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beefboyandbabygirl · 10 months

Text

Titty-Shirt! (18+)

pairing: pervert!rollercoaster operator!jeonghan x bigtiddie!fem!reader

genre: theme park au??? lmao, coworkers to lovers, kinda enemies to lovers, smut, fluff, lil crack, lil angst

description: you start your new job and your mentor, jeonghan, is the biggest piece of shit you've ever met. you swear you hate him. you swear. he's just also the most gorgeous man you've ever seen.

warnings: whew this requires a lot of warning, first of all a lot of DUBCON BEHAVIOR FROM JEONGHAN INITIALLY (we know she enjoys it to some extent, but he doesnt know), hes a sleazy perverted fuck, tiddie playing, tiddie sucking, tiddie fucking, fingering (f. receiving), dry humping, mirror sex, praise (f. receiving), dirty talk, FINGER SUCKING HNG, a lil degradation (f. receiving), meanie condescending jeonghan turning all soft for ur tiddies :(, V TIDDIE-CENTRIC IF U COULDNT TELL, belinda loves jeonghan, WEED LOTTA WEED, explicit depictions of smoking weed, high sex, this fic sounds rough but it actually has some really soft cute moments, im pretty sure thats it lmk if i forgot smth

quotes from babygirl (@joshibambi): "shove ur cock down my throat treat me like the whore i am", "FUCKING STEP ON ME", "omg hes so disgusting..... im so attracted to him"

wordcount: 13.2k

a/n: the way i raced 2 finish this before im actually moving out... ALSO thinking ab making this a series? like one for each member, the theme being "unusual jobs". like not stuff youd immediately think of like coffee shop or lawyer or ceo or whatever. like. strange jobs. would u guys b on board?

“We’re so excited to have you working with us.”

She had a mole on her nose that was hard to ignore. It was big and exceptionally round - your thoughts flitted back to your dearest Discovery Channel, and how amazing it was that nature could create such perfect spheres. The thought of your couch and your blanket and your most cherished nature docs brought upon a wave of uncertainty. You could just be lying at home, you thought.

“Happy to be here,” you smiled tightly. She was your new manager and she was short and stout and had gray hair and a lovely smile and a round mole on her nose. You tried not to make it obvious you were staring at it.

You were standing in your city’s local theme park under a long path with flower archways. People, kids and parents and ninth graders, swarmed around like bees, standing at booths and in lines to old, janky, rusted roller coasters. It was summer and you were wearing the branded shirt they’d given you, slightly too small, and the matching cap. Insects buzzed past your stray hairs and you looked up at the bright blue sky.

You needed a job, you had known, and your mom had certainly known it too, so you could only lounge around after graduating for a short while, before you opted to apply. This had been your last choice. You’d tried to become some sort of lobby-worker, tried makeup stores and even regular stores. You used to make fun of the people who worked here. But now that person was you, and standing under the archways in the summer sun slathered in sunscreen, you figured you would make the best of it until the busy season was over.

“So,” your manager, Belinda, began after a brief pause of polite nods, “new employees such as yourself are required to be trained and surveyed by an existing worker for a two-week period, but after that you get to run the rides all by yourself.”

She said it like it was something to look forward to. You tried to believe that it was.

“Of course,” you said, and once again the space between you was filled with polite and exaggerated nodding. “Need to learn first before you get to be the master.”

“Exactly!” she said. Her lipstick was barbie-pink and a little overlined on the right side. She smelled faintly of gasoline. “So we’re handing you off to one of our star-employees!”

You hummed and noticed her taking a step backwards, indicating you to follow. She began walking, trudging over the cobbled paths and shuffling awkwardly in between walls of people. You followed behind. “He’s been working here for the past two years, so he knows the place in and out.”

As you walked, passing twisting, gnarly tracks with screams emanating from them and stands with oversized, China-made plushies hanging from them, you tried to imagine what a star-employee at Caratland Theme Park looked like.

It was probably someone that loved roller coasters, maybe someone like yourself, who strived for approval and perfection, maybe someone that found a certain joy in being a good service experience for guests. Someone who was good with kids?

“So you’ll be training with him for a bit before we leave you alone with the coasters, of course, but it should be no trouble, he’s a fun guy!”

You passed by a haunted house, where a group of kids psyched each other up in the queue. Dodging a tree, you finally came up on a certain blue ride where Belinda stopped and put her hands on her hips, power posing in front of the creaky, old machinery.

The Pirate Swing. That’s what it was called, and it was a big ship attached to a huge, metal pole on each side, and it was currently swooshing up and down with a large, grating sound. You cringed at it. Belinda noticed and frowned, fingers fiddling with the edge of her shirt. “Maybe we should oil that one.”

Kids and parents were lined up at the stairway leading up to it in a parade of artificial polyester colors, and on the edge of the platform where the ship was shoveling through the air, a little booth was sat. Peeking through the frankly grimy windows, you could see him. He was slumped back in a wooden chair, wearing the same shirt as you and Belinda, and wearing big, blocky, black sunglasses.

“Jeonghan!” she called, and you saw the figure jolt. He looked briefly dazed, before he snapped his head up to peer through the glass, smiling and waving. The kids in line turned to glare at you. He scrambled up from his seat clumsily and with sporadic movement, and you both watched how he hunched over the door, shaking it in its frame before it finally let open. He took one long step out the door and was finally outside, looking down at you from the platform and leaning on the railing.

“Belinda! Nice to see you,” he breathed, smiling in a way that seemed to indicate he did not find the prior sequence of events embarrassing. In fact, he seemed to think he had the upper hand - the confidence rolled off of him in waves. You grimaced.

You could see him much better now that he was outside, not broken up by the greasy glass, and whatever you had envisioned the star-employee to look like, this was not it. He was young, maybe just a little older than you, and he was thin, with long black hair that just kissed his shoulders. About half of his face was hidden away behind the frankly humongous sunglasses on his face, but he had pale pink lips and a pronounced cupid's bow, and even though you were a little skeptical of him, the cockiness in his smile was well-received.

“This is Y/n!” Belinda said (yelling to overpower the severely loud child glee), gesturing to you, and you almost felt self-conscious when he looked over at you and smiled. “She’s a new employee and you’ll be her mentor during her training period.”

“Sure thing!” he said simply. Again with the polite nods, you thought, before you felt Belinda’s hand on your shoulder. You glanced over and she squeezed.

“Good luck, Y/n! You’re in great hands!” Now that you weren’t so sure about. Had the two of you not seen the same thing?

You mumbled a thanks and she padded away, once more dodging and weaving through huge chains of people, and you squinted after her, before you turned back to Jeonghan. He was already looking at you, a lazy smile on his lips.

“Welcome to The Pirate Swing, matey! Get up here and let me show you the ropes,” he padded back to the booth, now visibly more relaxed, as his back returned in a hunch. “I should probably stop the ride,” he mumbled to himself, pressing a button on a long controlpanel with a grid of eight buttons.

You climbed up the stairs unsurely, hand smoothing over the railing as you went. At the top you squeezed in beside Jeonghan. It was a fairly small space, just big enough for the two of you to stand next to each other. Jeonghan smiled a straight smile at you, before brushing past you to let out the dizzy guests.

“Was it a good ride?!” You heard him ask distantly, while you studied the interior of the booth.

It was reeking with a sweet herbal stench, and for a moment you might’ve chalked it up to sweat and cologne, but when your gaze danced over the grid, you became aware of a small, open ziploc of weed on the countertop, crumbs of it dotted by the opening. An energy drink, most certainly warm from the sun flowing in, was perched next to it, and you saw more cans by the foot of the wooden chair (it seemed like a chair that had been dragged in from somewhere else - it was almost reminiscent of the one from your grandma’s house).

You grimaced, looking over to where Jeonghan was waving kids off and shuffling over to let in people from the queue, a big sign for checking heights in his hand. The sunglasses, of course, you thought and frowned at the room. Luckily it seemed pretty straight forward, so maybe you could escape this Jeonghan character earlier than two weeks.

“Right,” Jeonghan clapped his hands together, pushing past you again. “This is how you turn it on,” he said and pressed one long, skinny finger to a black button that read ‘dispatch’.

Sure enough, the huge metal set to work again, screeching as it lifted a boat-full of nuclear families through the air.

“You turn it off with this other one. Usually rides just stop by themselves when they reach the end, but since we got a little shitty one today it’s manual.”

“Okay,” you said, nodding along and watching when his hand danced and pointed to the set of buttons.

“That’s pretty much it!” he said, collapsing in his chair again, sunglasses sliding halfway down his nose and revealing his bloodshot eyes.

“What about the other buttons?” you ask pointedly, arms crossed.

“Don’t worry about them, sweet cheeks,” he waved you off. “They don’t do much.”

The empty cans by his chair clattered when he reached down a hand for one, toppling over and hitting the metal flooring. You scrunched your nose in disgust.

“I like your shirt,” he mumbled, nimble fingers picking up a particular empty can. It was bent on one side, little holes pricked in it - it was a makeshift bong. You scoffed at him. This was the star-employee?

“We have the same shirt,” you deadpanned.

“Yeah, but I like yours better,” he grinned lazily, can now in hand, when he leaned forward to fetch the ziploc of weed. “Nice and tight.”

“You’re gross,” you spat, brows furrowed. “This is a kid’s establishment, you know that, right?”

“Ninth graders fuck here all the time,” he shrugged. You gasped, not only because it was an extremely gross fact, but also because that was not what you were suggesting. “I’m referring to the fucking weed in your hand, jackass!”

“Woah, calm down!” He shushed you, and you might’ve genuinely scared him, because he looked around each window of the booth, light cascading down his tan skin. He was wearing a pair of shorts, and you saw his knee bounce. When he’d secured the area, he turned to you with a hiss: “That’s a secret, woman! You can’t just throw words like that around.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t smoke here!” You snapped, but Jeonghan was doing exactly the opposite. Ducking down so it wasn’t totally visible from the windows, he’d placed a little nugget of weed on the grate, and was now setting it alight with Transformers-print lighter.

“This is your first day, right? Trust, you’re gonna end up being high on the job too,” he ended his sentence by placing his lips around the mouth of the can, sucking in smoke.

“That’s such a safety hazard,” you murmured, looking down at him from where you stood. He pulled away, smoke still in his mouth and you saw a twinkle in his eyes from above his falling sunglasses. Then he lunged forward and blew it into your face, a concentrated stream of weed smoke bouncing off your shiny cheeks. “Hey!”

You sputtered and spat, shoulders tense and straining against the fabric of your shirt. Jeonghan settled back down in his chair, legs spread.

“The kids love me! With or without weed!” he said, voice a little groggy from the smoke. You coughed, discontent.

“Maybe they love you because you get them contact-high,” you mumbled under your breath. Jeonghan grinned at that.

Suddenly he leaned back in his chair to study you, one hand on the can, the other taking off his sunglasses. He stared up at you with fire-red eyes and soft, long hair and a bemused grin on his lips. Seeing his full face, you gulped under his intense gaze. He was really pretty. Annoying. More annoying than pretty. But still.

Distantly, kids screamed and a constant buzz of countless conversations overlapped in each inch of the park. Jeonghan reached out a finger and poked your jean-clad hip once.

“You’re funny,” was all he said, something resembling curiosity in his eyes. “Yeah. Funny girl with the tight shirt.”

You were going to retaliate (they truly had run out of your size and had opted for this as a temporary option, it wasn’t your fault!), but Jeonghan coughed suddenly, eyebrows furrowing as he sat back up in his seat.

“Oh shit, should probably stop the ride now.” _____________________________

You thought about quitting.

You could honestly say that Jeonghan made you think about quitting, and maybe you would even have brought the plan into action, had it not been for the fact that you had been rejected from just about every other job that you’d applied to. It seemed you were stuck.

You showed up the next day in your shirt and it felt even tighter than the day prior, and the cap tightened around your scalp like you were a toy in a claw machine.

Fortunately for you, the park seemed much less crowded today. It was a Wednesday, parents were still working and apparently no one sought out the thrill of scary, old, decaying rides on such afternoons. You admired how much lovelier it was when it was still, as you walked up to The Pirate Swing.

“Hey, titty-shirt!”

The loveliness was ruined.

Jeongan was standing on the railing with someone else you didn’t recognize, long, black hair swaying out from the rim of his cap. He waved enthusiastically, watching your form slump at his words.

“Hey, Jeonghan,” you muttered, approaching the steps. The boy beside him looked mildly uncomfortable at the interaction.

“It’s a good thing you’re here, N/n - can I call you N/n?” he didn’t let you answer, simply continued talking like a telemarketer. “Well, it’s a good thing you’re here. Me and my buddy, Junhui, from the Beetle Bug ride were just discussing something that I think is extremely valuable to learn about this place!”

“Are you gonna teach me about the rest of the buttons?” you drawled, eyes half closed in feigned boredom (as much as you disliked him, it certainly wasn’t boring).

“No!” Jeonghan snapped his fingers at you. You noticed he had this way of smiling, that irked you. It was void of sincerity and was instead wolfish and teasing, something genuinely animalistic and mean-spirited. It was distasteful.

“On days like these-” he hovers and outstretched hand to gesture to the mostly bare land of the theme park, “- you can steal food from the restaurants.”

After just one eight hour shift with Jeonghan, you find yourself not even remotely surprised at this. You cross your arms over your chest (Jeonghan’s eyes briefly flick down to them, and you think you might actually hate him): “I have a packed lunch.”

“Packed lunches are for geeks and nerds,” he said, unbothered. “You can come along if you want to get some delicious, warm pizza, or you can stay here like a loser and explain to every kid that comes by, that you’re not allowed to give them a ride on the coaster and watch them cry until you get fired. Your choice, babe.”

“Don’t call me that,” you snarled. Jeonghan shrugged with puckered lips and the Beatle Bug guy - Junhui - scrunched his face in disgust at the two of you.

“Not gonna lie, I’m gonna go find Seungkwan,” he said, not even attempting to hide his dismay for your dynamic. He brushed past you on the stairs, hands buried in his pockets. “If you guys fuck, do it in the bathroom Chan uses!” he yelled, trudging past the pillars that held up the haunted house.

“Sure thing, Jun!” Jeonghan smiled, and you could punch him. Again that animalistic, joyful, laughing-at-you-not-laughing-with-you smile.

“What if I snitch on you?” you asked, hoping it would knock some sort of sense into him, but he only shrugged.

“Belinda loves me. Whenever she works on Valentine’s day, she cries in her office and I let her rant about her shitty boyfriends,” the visual was somehow not hard to imagine. Belinda in her office chair (you’d seen it once, and all you could say was the interior looked like something from a log cabin) and Jeonghan, 19, feeding into everything she said. “You can say what you want, but she’ll just fire you for making up rumors.”

Your brows furrowed. “That’s so concerning.”

“Nothing about this place works right,” he admitted and it was maybe the only time you’d sensed an ounce of truth in his words. “So, are you coming?”

You hesitated. You really were working up a real distaste for Jeonghan, but talking to spoiled, crying kids seemed worse than anything else at the moment. You decided you could live through Jeonghan’s lewd comments and maybe make friends with some other park workers.

“Okay.”

“I knew you loved me,” he teased, and then grabbed your wrist from the top of the steps, bouncing down and pulling you along with him. “Hey!” you yelped, but Jeonghan was, as always, unbothered.

He pulled you by a narrow walkway into the toilets, passing by a single, confused family, as you stumbled behind him. There was a fountain with a hen figurine on top, which he steered around, your arm jerking limply, as he went down a flower-walkway.

“You do this often?” you remarked, out of breath from jogging to match his strides.

“Oh yeah. Mingyu works there and he’s like 16, he lets me do anything,” Jeonghan giggled evilly, glancing over his shoulder once, and you gulped, and hated the way his eyes were so big and pretty, and the way his hair blowed softly along carvings of his cheeks.

“It’s great that you have so many people here to enable your bad habits,” you said. Whatever sarcasm you portrayed in your tone, Jeonghan ignored it, still smiling when he said: “Right?”

When you stopped you were standing on the backside of a blocky building - one of the many offers of food you provided, prices marked up to drain the suburbs of their cash. You felt something underfoot, and looked down on the gravelly, rustic pavement, only to see circa 20 cigarettes jammed in between the rocks. You scrunched your nose.

“What? You don’t like cigs?” you looked up at Jeonghan’s voice, to see him grinning cheekily at you. His eyes sparkled and for maybe just a second it was kind of attractive.

“I don’t..” you broke off eye contact. “I don’t mind, it’s just.. Is everyone here like you?”

“Sweetheart,” he tutted, and you nearly flinched at the feeling of his long fingers tapping your cheek, cool on the warming skin. You looked back up at him and he had tilted his head to the side. Why was he being attractive? Why were you finding him attractive? “There’s no one like me.”

Before you could respond, Jeonghan pushed open the backdoor, the heat of the kitchen simmering out in one brief wind, before it slammed shut behind him, and you were left, alone and dumbfounded on the stones in a mountain of cigs.

Then you scoffed.

You stood for a moment, letting the fresh air cool the inevitable warmth on your cheeks, huffing (because you were annoyed, you told yourself, not because he had just done something terribly, horribly attractive!) and puffing with your arms crossed over your too-tight-shirt.

Then you pushed open the door and stepped inside the tiled kitchen.

The room was filled with steam and it smelled like canned marinara sauce and fake cheese and most of all it was unbearably hot - so hot and humid, you felt the particles of water sitting on the fabric of your shirt. There was a decidedly oversize pot simmering with sauce on a stovetop, and on a hotplate three untouched pizzas sat; one with potato-topping, one pepperoni and one margarita.

A very tall boy was running frantically around the kitchen, three different kitchen utensils in his clenched fist like claws. Sweat was dripping down the side of his frowning face and red speckled his shiny cheeks. Jeonghan draped himself against the counter lazily.

“It’s just me today,” the boy, Mingyu, cried, “Thomas sent home the other two because there’s no one in the park, but I can’t do this alone!”

“Seems real stressful, Gyu,” Jeonghan mumbled, leaning on his hand.

“Yeah, so if you aren’t too busy, maybe you could stir the marinar-”

“That’s really great, man. You’re doing God’s work. But hey, we’re just gonna-” While Mingyu’s back was turned, the tall boy hunched over the sauce, Jeonghan limply pushed the pepperoni pizza to the edge of the hotplate with a pair of tongs. He winked at you, scooping the pizza into his open palm. “We’re just gonna head out now.”

“Jeonghan, please help me out and don’t-”

Mingyu turned around and his tortured expression dropped into one of shock, his tense limbs falling limp at his sides. Jeonghan stood, hand in the cookie jar and pizza in his palm, frozen in front of him with a sort of cartoonish ‘oopsie’-face. Steam clouded the room while you watched from the doorway.

Mingyu’s eyes narrowed and when he spoke again, his voice was lowered in warning: “Jeonghan. We’ve talked about this. Put. The pizza. Down.”

There was a moment of indifferent silence. Jeonghan contemplated.

Then he nodded, lips pursed and eyes cast down to the pizza.

“You know… I would.. But. Y/N, OPEN THE DOOR OR KNOCK HIM OUT!”

“WHAT?”

“OPEN THE DOOR.”

You did. Apparently Mingyu hadn’t seen you, because he jumped at your voice behind him, body twisting to see you just in time for you to open the door and Jeonghan came scrambling out of it like a rat. You cannot believe you just aided this man’s crimes, you think, Mingyu’s expression of horror forever imprinted in your retina, before you followed suit.

However bad Mingyu’s puppy expression made you feel, the rush of adrenaline as you bolted down the pavement under row after row of flowers and sunbeams brought forth something sinister and mean that had you giggling at your evil-doing. Jeonghan was laughing as well, and his genuine laugh was bright and bubbly and very unlike him.

Mingyu sprung open the door behind you, yelling over your shoulders: “HOODLUMS! THIEVES! YOU’RE LUCKY I CAN’T LEAVE THIS SAUCE.”

This made the both of you laugh even harder, disappearing behind another building, leading up to the chicken-fountain. You caught up to him, still holding the pizza in his open palms, now sweating and panting in between bright, heart-thrumming giggles.

“I thought-” you panted, bending at your knees and warding away the image of the betrayed Mingyu. “I thought you said he let you do whatever he wanted.”

“Yeah,” Jeonghan heaved, cheeks rosy and shiny, as he gently padded over to a bench with the pizza out like the plate in the hand of Oliver Twist. “That’s my bad. I forget he was 16 two years ago and has since then lost all respect for me.”

This made you laugh. This had your eyes squinting closed and a deep, ringing laugh bouncing up your ribcage and your throat and exploding into the summertime. Eyes closed, you missed the way Jeonghan’s face lit up at that.

“That made you laugh? Self-deprecation?” he asked incredulously, but somehow amazed.

“Oh,” you cried, opening your eyes and willing your laughter to calm. “I think it’s just the first time you haven’t been baselessly confident and cocky.”

“Baseless?” Jeonghan echoed, face screwed in poorly-concealed glee.

“Yeah,” you nodded, face also screwed in poorly-concealed glee.

“What? Am I supposed to collect, like, fuckin’ data?”

“Yeah, evidence.”

“EVIDENCE?”

You and Jeonghan went back to The Pirate Swing, splitting the pizza in the booth and every 45 minutes or so, letting guests on when they came by. He was still annoying and in all fairness he’d dragged you into his crimes against humanity. But. He was also a little funny and sweet.

And the pizza did taste better than your packed lunch. _____________________________

Two days of normal work followed.

There were too many people to really fuck around, so you and Jeonghan stayed in the booth, and you even managed to pressure him into telling you about the rest of the buttons, as well as the mechanics of the bigger machines.

Everytime Jeonghan saw you he greeted you with “Hey titty-shirt!”, equally enthusiastic each time. Everytime the clock hands read 8 PM he pulled out his weed and began smoking. Everytime he began smoking he snaked a hand on the back of your leg where you stood (still no chair!) beside him, rubbing the flesh under his palm. You shooed him away half-heartedly, then felt guilty for not meaning it. Jeonghan was a sleazy piece of shit, but his hand was warm and felt nice on your thigh. You liked to tell yourself you were just lonely or something.

“TITTY-SHIRT!”

That Saturday you came walking into work, still wearing your shirt and your cap, and was immediately alerted to the fact that something was off; Jeonghan was ecstatic.

He always had this front of joy and constant bemusement, but you’d learned to read how he yearned for his shift to end - you saw it sometimes when he gazed out of the windows of the booth, thinking you were surveying the kids. That day, he was happy. Genuinely.

“TITTY-SHIRT!” he called again, causing a family of blonde children to turn their heads in dismay. He paid them no mind, rushing down the stairs with loud, trampling steps, to meet you at the foot of the platform, before you could even settle down in the booth. He grabbed your forearms in his hands and grinned at you childishly. You couldn’t help the small, bemused smile that parted your lips.

“Great fuckin’ news,” he said, “Belinda is fucking gone. M.I.A.”

“Okay?” you grimaced, unsure of what he was getting at.

“Okay?! Do you know what this means?”

“No, not particularly,” you mumbled.

“This whole fuckin’ area,” he let go of your arms to motion vigorously to your part of the park. "Unsupervised. Unaccounted for.”

“Okay?”

“Okay?! This means we’re gonna go shoot the shit at the arcade, come on!” He threw a hand over his shoulder to gesture to the arcade area. You frowned and crossed your arms challengingly.

“Shouldn’t we go take care of our coaster?”

“Are you kidding me? If no one is working it, people just assume it’s shut down for maintenance. Come on, this only happens, like, twice a year!” He whined, stomping his worn-down Nike sneakers into the pavement and pouting at you. You hated to admit it made your facade melt like an overpriced ice-cream in the hand of a child.

“Alright, but-”

“Yes!”

Without further nonsense, Jeonghan grabbed your hand in his, and began to once more drag you through the park. As you ran behind him, you looked at your interlocked hands and thought, briefly, that it wasn’t too bad to look at. And it felt kind of good.

“What happened to Belinda?”

“God knows, I think it was something with her kids.”

“She has kids?!”

You and Jeonghan messed around at the arcade - Jeonghan miraculously had been granted the keys to the arcade by Belinda (something about her trusting him?), and unlocked the machines and you played games with already-used coins.

First was Whack-A-Mole, then the boxing game, then those motorcycle races, and then you played the basketball game.

“I’m gonna beat you!” you squealed, throwing a miniature basketball through the hoop with a small jump. You grinned in triumph when it landed right, punching the air like a dork and turning to him with victoriously glean.

Jeonghan wasn’t even played, you realized. You’d been so caught up in actually landing the ball in the hoop that you’d managed to forgo the way Jeonghan leaned against his lane, eyes half lidded and shadowed under his cap. You turned to him, now much more aware that you’d been acting like a dork.

“Uh, aren’t you gonna play?” you asked sheepishly, blushing. You wished you’d missed how Jeonghan’s lips quirked upwards at the sight.

“No,” he sang, “I think I’m just gonna stay here and watch you play.”

You narrowed your eyes, suspiciously, and that was all Jeonghan needed before he sighed and shrugged in defeat, like a criminal caught for his crimes.

“Sorry, I just like watching your tits bounce when you get all excited,” he deadpanned. Your mouth gaped open and crossed your arm over your chest.

“You’re so gross, Jeonghan!” you said, now thoroughly uninterested in playing anymore. Jeonghan only scoffed though, to which you snapped your head back to him with an outraged expression. He smiled at you in that cheeky son-of-a-bitch way.

“Oh, don’t act like that,” he said cockily.

“Like what?”

He laughed, rolling his eyes, letting a small pause linger in the space between you. You hoped he couldn’t see the way your eyes twinkled with excitement every time he said something like this. As hot as he was, Jeonghan was a cocky, sleazy piece of shit and you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“Like you’re scandalized,” he said simply. You wanted to respond, wanted to defend your honor, but Jeonghan saw right through you, and he took one step forward to speak again: “Like you hate the way I talk to you. You act all innocent and nice and so uptight, but you know what?”

He took daring steps forward, one after another, until you were half-sat on the basketball machine and he stood, looming over you, surprisingly menacing despite the get-up. The air seemed to suddenly thicken and warm, tasting foul in your mouth. Then he leaned in, eyes glimmering brilliantly with amusement and that evil smile on his lips, breath hitting yours.

“I think you love being treated like a slut.”

Fuck.

He was so close to you, body heat rolling into you. You knew he saw the mechanisms of your brain turning behind your eyes, saw the fear when you realized he had seen right through you, and he smiled, and he might as well have had fucking horns.

He tilted his head, and, fuck, if every angle of his face wasn’t perfect. It was unfair. It was so unfair.

“I-I don’t-” your voice was a meek, half-hearted protest, cut off before you could even begin.

“Yeah,” he laughed. “I think you do. You don’t just let any man massage your thigh, hm?”

At those words, his hand dropped onto your thigh, finger digging into soft flesh. You mewled at the feeling, causing his grin to spread wider.

“Oh, poor baby,” he pouted in fake-sympathy. “Am I making you wet?”

“JEONGHAN!”

Thank God for Kwon Soonyoung with the impeccable timing.

Soonyoung was “the pool boy” - he did not work at the pools, but he was the victim of a dunking-machine that was set up in the summertime. Kids and adults alike paid to throw balls at a big, red button that would lower a trapdoor and dunk Soonyoung in ice-cold water. You’d seen it in action and it was pretty hilarious.

At his voice, you and Jeonghan scrambled apart, his hand flying off your thigh and body twisting to back away from you, and you dropping off the machine and landing flat on your feet, blushing wildly and somewhat out of breath.

Soonyoung, the poor boy, was sprinting through the park, stopping awkwardly where you and Jeonghan had been standing. He was out of breath and had a wild look in his eyes, like he was being chased by some supernatural monster.

“Belinda is back! Get back to your coasters!” If he’d noticed your philandering he certainly didn’t mention it, breaking into a sprint again the second the words had left his lips.

“Shit, thank you, Soonyoung!” Jeonghan yelled, receiving only a limp thumbs-up from the trackstar in response. Jeonghan grabbed your hand and the two of you ran back to The Pirate Swing as fast as your legs could take you.

Your heart fluttered at your interlocked hands again, and you stared at them, focused on them, as the world became a blurred mess around you. His warmth streamed into you.

You couldn’t even look at him the rest of the shift. Something about his confrontation stirred a mimicking phenomenon in you. Did you want to fuck Jeonghan? You did, you realized, and thus you were unable to raise your gaze from the floor, pressing yourself against the wall to be far enough away from him, that he couldn’t touch your thigh again. He didn’t. He just let your cheeks blaze and pressed buttons and talked to kids, and he even waved at Belinda when she walked by, and she smiled wide and waved back.

You went home at 9 PM, shirt too tight around your chest, and chest too tight around your heart. You simply couldn’t believe it, because not only did you want to fuck Jeonghan;

You had a fucking crush on him. _____________________________

Having a crush on Yoon Jeonghan was maybe the worst revelation you’d had in your life.

You’d kept all the things you admired about him hidden under the veil of your shirt; he was sleazy and gross and he smoked weed at work and had a certain disregard for child safety. But, and there was always a but, you realized, he was also witty and easy to talk to, and it was cute when he was happy or he got excited about something, and he was so damn charismatic, and you realized you would do anything to see him with that childlike joy again.

The worst part was that Jeonghan did not like you back. In fact, you couldn’t even imagine him liking anyone. He thought you were hot and wanted to fuck and that was the end of it. All the ways you cared about him were unreciprocated. He did not care to see you happy. He did not care for the twinkle in your eyes when you were excited. He liked your tits in your shirt and was working his fingers up, day by day, to touch you. Yoon Jeonghan did not like you back.

Three days of work passed, three days of being muted and awkward around him. Jeonghan’s shine was not dulled by your lack though. The kids loved him, Belinda loved him, and he didn’t love anyone back - just let himself be showered in admiration. He was greedy like that. He took all the love and gave none out.

On this particular day, all you did was lay in your bed before work, willing time to stop so you wouldn’t have to go. Legs flopped on top of your bedsheets, work shirt on and cap on your bedside. You waited.

You waited with a metal ball in your stomach, rolling around and causing a ruckus. It rested heavy there, rolling to and fro and grazing your heart from time to time, and it hurt.

Maybe the reason it felt this bad was because you did it to yourself. Of course, Jeonghan wouldn’t like you back. He was Jeonghan. And yet, you’d had your guard down and his effortless charms had worked their way into your brain. You wondered how many girls had been in the same exact position as you; being graced with Jeonghan’s presence, being smitten by it, and now lying in bed, realizing the admiration would never be bounced back to them.

You went to work.

In the damn shirt, you walked in through the staff-door and journeyed towards The Pirate Swing.

There were so many people that day, you could hardly believe your eyes. The queues were mile-long stretches, and every pathway was spotted with body after body, walls of families, crowds swarming like insects. It was enough to induce a slight panic.

“It’s good that you’re here, Titty-shirt,” Jeonghan said, when you walked into the booth beside him. He had a bit of a wild look in his eye and he was chewing on a banana. You stood by the door of the booth, looking out at the queue - a genuine queue? To The Pirate Swing? - as the boat swung catastrophically behind you. “We’re fucking busy.”

You hummed, then turned your head to him. He had sat down, seemingly exhausted and pouting a little.

“You brought a packed lunch?” you asked, nodding towards the banana in his hand and he looked up at you. His cheeky smile made you want to die.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I stole this from Seungkwan,” he said and you laughed, and you hated that he made you laugh. The walls of the booth muffled the loud, indistinct buzz and shielded you from the chaos. The flimsy, windowed walls had never felt as intimate.

“It’s gonna be a shitty day,” you declared ceremoniously. He grunted something in agreement, voice strangled by the now finished banana. Forever himself, he discarded the peel on the corner of the control panel, among his ziploc of weed and empty cans.

It was a shitty day.

The constant swarming of people, crying children, the non-stop screech of rusted roller coaster tracks; everything brewed together into a pounding headache, as you and Jeonghan hunched together in the booth. Beads of sweat collected on your skin, where the unforgiving sun streamed through the windows.

Around 8 PM you’d had just about enough. Your head was pounding, you were hungry, and most terribly you were sad. You were sad, sitting next to Jeonghan on the dirty, hard floor of the booth, and you could cry every time he said something snarky and lewd to you. He would never like you and you were a fool for ever letting yourself get attached.

The day was constant work, constant talking to kids and putting on an energetic front. Finally the crowd seemed to thin out. Slowly but surely, the suburban families returned home and only a few people remained, and the night time glowed soft and warm.

“Dude,” Jeonghan said, neck craned to look at his phone. With most of the guests gone, he’d finally gotten a chance to waste away on his phone, putting his mouth to his makeshift bong and smoking pot. You kept the booth-door open to let the smoke out. “Wanna go see a crowd of teenagers dunk Soonyoung? Junhui just texted me.”

You were so tired. Every inch of your body yearned to relax where you sat, cross legged on the metal floor. With dark, sunken eyes and no courtesy left, you simply shook your head.

“You sure?” he asked, eyebrows raised. You were just tired enough to miss the small frown on his lips.

“I’m tired, you just go.”

Jeonghan shrugged then and stood up. He left the bong on the floor and stepped over you to exit.

“I’ll be back ASAP!” he yelled out, and you didn’t even try to look at him, to call something witty back. You just sat.

And as if it weren’t the last thing you needed today, just thirty minutes before closing, a woman and her son strolled up The Pirate Swing. You saw them, eyes glazing with worry as you flickered your head to Jeonghan’s empty chair.

“We want a ride!” cawed the woman, holding her son by the hand. You scrambled to your feet, stuttering as you dusted off your pants.

“Uh, I-” hopeful, you looked around, hoping to see Jeonghan and his long, poodle-y hair somewhere near. The pathways were deserted. “I-I actually can’t-”

Not waiting for an explanation, the woman clucked once more: “You’re still open, aren’t ya?”

You nodded, tiredness painted thick and greasy on your face. “Yes, we are, um, open, but I-”

“Well, then give us a ride?!”

This woman was going to be the death of you. Why were they even here now right before closing? You closed your eyes, collecting yourself and mustering each ounce of patience you had left.

“I’m not allowed to because I’m new-”

“Well, where is the operator? Why are you here if you don’t know how it works!”

“He’s, uh,” your face fell, “He’s using the bathroom right no-”

You’re not even sure why you lied.

“Alright,” she huffed, strained and impatient. “Well, you just ruined me and my son’s night!”

She tugged her blonde kid by the hand and began to turn around, grumbling with a red face.

“I’m so sorry, but- it’s a matter of safety-”

“Next time just say you don’t know how to do your job!” she yelled over her shoulder, mean glare coming out over her shapely glasses. Then she was jiggling away with a pouting child.

Your mouth fell open in shock. A part of you wanted to be angry - a part of you was angry - but you found yourself weighed down and sliding down the wall of the booth with a much heavier feeling; you were exhausted.

This was the last straw for tonight, you decided, resolve melting like a dropped ice cream. Booth door half-creaked open and weed vapor in the air, you buried your head in your hands and began to cry. It was small. It was not loud and sorrowful, it was small and petty. Nothing grand about crying on the dirty floor at your workplace. Sniffles and single, wet tears and a quivering lip, all dying out in the soft glow of the fairy light decorating the park.

“Y/n?”

“Shit,” you lifted your head from your hands, wiping hard on your reddened cheeks. Jeonghan was standing in the open door, looking down at you on the floor.

“Sorry, uh-”

“Why are you crying?”

You paused, hands fiddling with the collar of your shirt and effectively covering your breasts. Your breath was shaky and snotty, eyelashes coated in tears. Red patches your skin around your puffy eyes, and your lips pressed into a thin line.

Jeonghan did not look like himself when you looked up at him. It must have been a completely different person, you decided, because his features had tightened and screwed into an expression you had never even seen a hint of before: concern.

It looked so utterly foreign on his face - there was always a lightness to his expression, a joking, teasing look, but now he was frowning and his brows were furrowed and his eyes were big and red and round. It made you feel small and frail. You didn’t like seeing him like that; unwell. But it seemed that feeling was mutual.

“Um,” you began, voice hoarse and shuddering like a frail old fence-gate, that’s been slammed shut. “I’ve just had a shitty fucking day and- this woman came and wanted to ride and she was just so fucking mean when I told her I couldn’t..”

Telling it all again made you feel so pathetic, it wracked another sob from you, hurdling past your lips. You caught it in your hand, pressing it to your mouth and squeezing your eyes shut up.

God, you were pathetic.

But your heavy, heavy eyelashes blinked open and you looked up to see Jeonghan’s expression softened into something else entirely;

Guilt.

“I’m sorry,” he said immediately.

“No, it’s fine-”

He dropped to his knees in front of you, now at your level and up close, so you could see every tensed muscle and every strain on his beautiful face.

“I’m sorry I left you alone,” he said solemnly and for the first time since you’d met him, Jeonghan was merely expressing his regret, not bartering for some sort of gain. His words were dripping with sincerity and it was so strange, you had to laugh.

“What?” he asked, a small grin growing on his face. That was more familiar.

“I just- I’ve never seen you so serious, it’s okay, Jeonghan, I forgive you-”

He broke into a laugh as well, rhythmic clucks dancing through the air from the booth, and it immediately cheered you up: he was beautiful and practically glowing, a small rim of light encapsulating him.

“I’m very serious, I think,” he said. You rolled your puffy, old eyes.

There was a significant pause.

Your head lolled over and your gaze landed once more on the makeshift bong by the chair, now abandoned. It reminded you of how different you were. You tried too hard because you liked when people liked you, you were a hard worker, your shirt was too tight. Your shirt was too tight and that’s what had landed you in this situation.

“Can I…” you trailed off, daring to look at him again. “Can I smoke some of your weed?”

Jeonghan’s face was practically split in half the way he was smiling. There was something akin to triumph in his eyes, but it was almost fatally overpowered by sheer, bubbling, striking adoration. It made you blush.

“Of course, babe, I thought you’d never ask,” he breathed, still smiling when he scrambled forward for the bong and stretched out his arm to finger at the control panel, finally feeling the soft plastic and snatching it down to the floor with you.

“Just put your mouth to the can, baby, I’ll light it for you,” he giggled giddily, scrambling for the lighter in his pocket.

“I know how it works,” you tried to sound stern, but you were smiling and your eyes were twinkling.

Jeonghan messily pinched off a nugget of weed and placed it on the gridded holes in the can (which he had pricked with his work badge; “Hi, my name is Jeonghan!”), and you placed it to your mouth, while he held the lighter to it.

“You’re so hardcore,” he said sarcastically, face close to yours as he flicked the lighter, sending a warm flame onto the can, so the nugget lit ablaze.

“Shut up,” you said, and then you inhaled and the flame went out and turned into a glow, and warm, crisp smoke traveled down your throat, leaving it sore and burned. It felt great.

You held it in for a moment, then exhaled, and Jeonghan watched eagerly as your chest rose and fell under the restricting fabric of your shirt.

You and Jeonghan sat side by side for the last half hour, smoking together, eyes turning red and breaths turning sour and casting laughs into the night air. There was a warm buzz in your chest, a low drum, and you basked in the proximity to him, in how the heat of his body met yours in a fierce battle, at how he caught your eye when he joked, and how he smiled when you laughed. Your responsibilities melted away; your shirt felt looser.

“We’re closing now,” you hummed after a while, somehow lighter and heavier at the same time. Your eyelids felt heavy and your cheeks were warm from giggling. Jeonghan placed his hand on your wrist, squeezing and tearing your eyes to his.

“I have such a good idea right now,” he grinned lazily and you couldn't help but echo it. His eyes were red and half-lidded, and his voice was groggy from the smoke. He had run his hand through his hair one too many times and now it was puffier, poodlier than normal. He looked so handsome, you thought, studying the tan from many days in the sun. You figured he didn’t use sunscreen.

“What is it?” you breathed.

“Come on, come with me!”

Then the two of you were sneaking from building to building and giggling indiscreetly, two hunched silhouettes becoming one with the backs of buildings. Jeonghan insisted the two of you go to the toddler playground (Sunshine Dance Club, as it were called), because, in his words: “those dumb prick security guards never bother to actually check it”. He pulled you into the pastel green, red, blue, and yellow dreamscape, pulling you up a wooden tower, where you would be shielded by the railing.

The two of you sat against the railing and waited while a security guard checked the place before closing.

The mischief had made the two of you even more giggly, scratchy throats producing choppy snickering, as you leaned into each other on the wood, breathing in each other’s air. You liked being so close to him, you thought, and you were almost high enough to just spit it out. The distant stream of light overhead revealed his pores, but you liked those too.

“Shut up, shut up,” Jeonghan whispered at one point. “I think he might be coming!”

“You’ve said that three times-”

His hand clasped over your mouth and he fought not to laugh at the surprise in your eyes. Sure enough, this time he was right, as you heard booted footsteps in the distance, and the beam of a flashlight danced across the sloping and bouncing playground.

You held your breath, not only because you feared, for the first time that night, getting caught, but also because Jeonghan had leaned so close to you, that you could see every stirred acrylic in his eye, every color of brown, swirly sundae.

Both of you stopped laughing and stared at each other.

His hand dropped from your lips.

“I have cotton mouth,” he whispered, footsteps fading away. You couldn’t tell if it was the weed or what, but the air seemed thicker and you felt heavier, like imaginary hands were tugging you down. Jeonghan was no better - you couldn’t quite place the emotion on his glowing face. He almost seemed vulnerable.

“Me too,” you whispered, breathless.

A pause.

His eyes flickered down to your lips, pink and plush.

“Can I kiss you?”

You were almost bristling for a moment in pure surprise, before you recollected yourself and nodded eagerly.

“Yeah.”

You thought his lips would smash into yours; you thought he would conquer you, because that would simply be the most Jeonghan-thing he could, to take what was his, to be cheeky and horny and sleazy.

To your utmost surprise, his hand was shaking when he lifted it, brushing so softly, so gently across the skin of your neck, resting on the back of it, cold from the icy, night breeze. His hand kissed the tips of your hair, and he gently slid it up, breath shaking, as he stared at your lips. Then he leaned in.

His lips were soft like the bouncy castle on the edge of the playground, so impossibly gentle and flowing and warm. He breathed out shakily against your skin, eyes squeezed shut. Had you seen it, you would’ve almost believed that the kiss pained him, with the furrowed brows, but you didn’t, and it wasn’t painful at all, it was just that his heart was exploding and so was yours. Tender and slow, that was what it was, and you had never thought you’d use words like that to describe him.

A moment of entangled lips, slow making out and warm air covering your skin, his hand in your hair. The Sunshine Dance Club was filled with the sound of spit.

Then he pulled away, breath still shaking, but now, less vulnerable. His lips curled into a smile, spreading that childlike joy on his face. It made you smile as well.

“That was-” he shook his head at himself, cringing. Then he restarted: “Can I show you something?”

You chuckled, cheeks heavily flushed and eyes twinkling. “What is it?”

The cheekiness returned to his eyes, as he scrambled to his feet: “A surprise.”

And once again the two of you were giggling through the park, this time hand in hand, looking over your shoulders for the security guard that by this time had definitely gone home. The halted steps over the cobbled paths echoed in the dead, empty park.

It would’ve been a strange feeling - seeing everything closed and dark and empty, every inch usually crammed with people strangely void - had you not been entirely consumed by Jeonghan’s presence. His hand in yours, his laugh, his starry eyes, his face softening when he looked at you.

Jeonghan led you into Belinda’s office (he had a key because he was her favorite, he said), allowing you to sit on the edge of her desk, while he sauntered off into an attached room. You sat there, overhead light dull and buzzing, and basked in the log cabin aesthetics. Your chest was warm.

Then, from beyond the other room, sounding much further away and thereby being much bigger than you had initially imagined the attached room to be, you heard the mechanical sound of several switches. They sounded heavy and important, having a sort of resonance that continued into your room, where Belinda’s desk chair was spun halfway.

“Jeonghan?” you called, a twinge of worry in your voice. “What did you do?”

He came jogging back into the office, all wide grinned and puffy-eyed.

“You’ll see.”

Once again he grabbed onto your hand, pulling you off the desk and barging out of the doorway.

The night air enveloped you completely, stealing you away from the warmth of the office, kissing your warm skin, as you stood on the cobble. The feeling was so great, you almost missed what Jeonghan had done.

It was beautiful.

The switches had turned on the lights everywhere. In every color imaginable, illuminating dramatically sloping tracks in the distance, fairy lights on the pathways, signs re-lit, and the whole park before your eyes seemed to have become a disco-ball, sending faint streaks into the star-spotted sky like aurora borealis.

You, now red and green and yellow and blue, let out a disbelieving laugh, smiling wide. You squeezed his hand, unable to communicate further. There was something about it that left you entirely speechless. It was an inability to overcome and conquer the lights before you - your eyes feasted on them much too eagerly.

“What do you think?”

Jeonghan was looking at you.

“It’s-” you sucked in a breath, trying to compose a sudden sincerity you felt. You looked over at him. “It’s so pretty, Jeonghan. It’s really beautiful.”

“I knew you would like it,” he murmured happily, body turned to yours. You turned to him as well.

There was a moment of silence. The two of you basked in the light and in the gentle glow and the cool night, and in each other.

“Thank you for cheering me up,” you said and pursed your lips. He smiled in a gentle way. It looked nice on him.

“It’s nothing,” he said, “we were having fun.”

The conversation lulled again, and while you turned your head back to the light show, the flickering lights and the ombre, Jeonghan continued looking at you.

You felt his eyes on you, and you turned to him, shyly: “You should look at the beautiful lights.”

He shook his head, lips twisting upwards: “No.. Not right now…” And that was all he said.

The words left a bit of a void in you, like a black hole sunk in your stomach and you turned to him curiously. Jeonghan sensed your confusion, because he licked his lips and gave you a knowing smile, and then explained.

“I wanna kiss you again, love.”

And his voice was so angelic, such a grave contrast to the boy you’d come to know, but he’d been so strange tonight. Your first kiss had been so tender, now he was looking at you and his pupils were dilated and a smirk spread across his face, and you needed to know something; just one thing, before you threw yourself at him, and gave to him, something you would not be able to take back.

“Do you just wanna fuck me?” your voice echoed off the walls of the empty park, resounding accusingly. He laughed.

“Of course, I wanna fuck you, baby,” he laughed a little, shaking his head in disbelief. You stayed staring at him, bristling. “You’re hot as shit.”

“No, I mean,” you paused, because suddenly your heart was climbing into your throat and it seemed like everything you’d worried about was true, that you were just another girl that was hexed by his charms. “Do you just wanna fuck me?”

His smirk dropped. There was a moment where all you could hear was wind and the electrical whirring of the many, many lights, draining energy from the earth by the second.

“Do you honestly think I’d do this for just any girl I wanted to fuck?”

“I-”

“I thought you were smarter than that, N/n,” his lips spread once more in a smile, but this one seemed more fitting on his face - condescending and confident. Whatever vulnerability had hung in the air was replaced by warmer, thicker danger. Was it the weed making you feel this way? On edge or excited?

“I just-” you stammered, feeling bashful suddenly. Did that mean he liked you? Yes, that meant he liked you. You had truly not even considered the possibility, not really thought it through the way you had the negative outcome, so now you were standing and you didn’t know how to respond. A stuttering, blubbering mess of red cheeks and avoidant eyes. “I just- I thought you just- because you talk so much about my boobs-”

“Shhhh,” he shushed you. The cocky motherfucker actually shushed you, staring you down in a way that made you feel like prey and taking two steps forward, and closing the gap between you. He was so, so close to you, chest inches away from yours and leaning his face down to tilt his head at you.

“You’re so cute, baby,” he cooed, eyes dancing around your face.

You and him watched it, as one lean hand lifted itself to your chest, tightly wrapped in polyester-fabric. You sucked in a breath. His fingers lightly grazed it, trailing over the soft plushness of it. Then he cupped it, experimentally, like feeling the weight of it in his hand. You whimpered pathetically.

“Hm,” he hummed, ripping his gaze from your tits very briefly at the noise, “you sound so pretty.”

In an effort to steal more noises from your pretty lips, his delicate thumb rubbed over your nipple, watching it harden under the fabric with a bemused smirk. Your breathing became heavy and shaky.

“Can we– please?” you whined, but he only tutted, watching the fat crook under his finger.

“Hang on, sweetheart, I’m having my fun,” he said, nonchalantly, another hand snaking up to your other tit. “Been waiting for this since the first time I saw you.”

You couldn’t help but whimper quietly, his caresses and his intense gaze sending electricity straight to your core. You fingers wrapped around his forearms where they flexed, as he kneaded your chest eagerly.

“That’s right,” he whispered and leaned into you, eyes half lidded and lips wet from spit. “Be a good girl and let me play with your pretty titties.”

Then he kissed you again, groaning into your mouth at the weight of your tits in his hands. His groping became more rough and hurried, as he bit your lip and slipped his tongue in your mouth.

“Fuck, baby, need to get your shirt off, it’s so tight,” he groaned, licking into your mouth. You whined, back arching into his hand. “Poor baby, shirt so tight it’s strangling your pretty tits.”

“Jeonghan, please!” You cried, putting one hand on his chest to push him away from you. He pulled away, lips red and swollen and cheeks delightfully flushed.

“Okay, baby,” he whispered, comfortingly. “Okay, okay, I’ll take care of you, sweetheart.”

You could cry. The way he was touching you so intimately, but refusing to snake his hand down to your burning core, where you could feel yourself fucking dripping. Your body was on fire and your voice was hoarse from the weed that still coursed through your body.

“Please, please,” you mumbled, and it was desperate enough that Jeonghan pulled his hands from your chest (which took more willpower than he was willing to admit), sliding them over your back and pulling you into him. You nosed into the crook of his neck, sighing happily.

“Alright, baby,” He breathed, hand in your hair. You felt his neck crane, looking around.

“Come with me, baby, I know just where to go.”

You didn’t even have time to whine that you didn’t want to go anywhere, you wanted him to touch you. Jeonghan grabbed your hand and crossed the pathway, and you saw the yellow, lit-up sign for the funhouse before you disappeared into the entrance.

The first room had a large circular hallway, and when you stepped onto the red plastic, it rolled a little. You and Jeonghan both stumbled rockily, and you nosedived into his chest. He laughed, steadying you with warm fingers on your waist. “Silly girl,” his voice cooed in your ear.

“Jeonghan, please touch me-”

“We’re almost there, baby,” he said, and he was being a little annoying, because he’d just played with your boobs and made you so fucking wet that your panties were sticking to your folds, and now he was trudging you through the hallways of a funhouse. You both skiddered out of the circular hallway with much trouble.

The next room was slanted, and in your intoxicated mind, this was more than a challenge. The whole room was blue and your knuckles became celeste, as you gripped the slanted railing.

“Jeonghan, I can’t-”

Not another word out of your lips, before Jeonghan was scooping you up in his arms, walking with seemingly no problem through the room. “Shit!” you yelped when he did so, but he only smiled at you, a mixture of adoration and teasing. He ran with you, his bride, through a black and white doorway.

The next room was the mirror maze, and Jeonghan’s face lit up at the sight of it.

“We’re here!” he panted giddily, gently lowering you. You found your footing and looked around, a little speechless at how quickly he’d constructed this plan. There were at least 20 different angles of you, and you cringed at your own disheveled appearance and how your tiny shirt dug into your skin. A hall of reflection, the roof and flooring was pitch black and only you and him existed in the void, copycats at every corner.

You saw Jeonghan in the mirror, walking up behind you. He was smirking, planting his head on your shoulder and peering up at you, as his hands caressed your waist, riding up your shirt and exposing your stomach 20 times over. You hated to say it, but seeing his veiny, big hands on you made your breath hitch.

“Was it not worth it, hmm?” he sang innocently, blinking at you with a bunched up cheek on your shoulder. His sleazy hands worked the fabric upwards, just under the impressive bump of your chest.

His eyes flicked over to the most nearby mirror. Breath becoming shaky, his hands lifted the shirt, finally, over your chest, exposing your simple, black bra and the soft skin of your tits. You could breathe easier, without the fabric digging into your chest.

“Fuck,” he hissed, soft hands immediately dipping inwards to touch over the skin. “Shit, you’re so perfect,” his voice was strangled, all composure gone as he looked at your chest with something akin to wonder.

You moaned, feeling his dick, fully fucking hard from just playing with your soft mounds, grinding into your ass. Like a horny teenage boy, he moaned shakily, big hands covering your boobs and squeezing, and rutting into you from behind. As much as you wanted him to touch you, you couldn’t help but enjoy the sight of Jeonghan so utterly fucked out, using your body to pleasure himself. It was so erotic, the way his pretty face twisted in place and his fingers dug into the fat of your chest, panting into your neck. Then the sight untangled itself from your body.

“Sorry, sorry,” he was out of breath, removing his hips from your ass. “I got too caught up.”

“It’s okay-”

He spun you around, pushing your body against the mirror. You stood back to back with your reflection.

“No, it’s not,” he breathed, working your shirt the rest of the way off hastily. You lifted your arms to help the fabric off.

You very barely registered Jeonghan snaking your pants off, and then his own clothes. You leaned your head on the mirror and you could finally breathe without the tight shirt, and you somehow felt stronger, not vulnerable like you would have expected. And when your eyes flicked to another mirror and you saw Jeonghan shirtless too, you realized the two of you were much more similar now.

Jeonghan was standing in his boxers now, and you in your panties.

“You know, I always thought you’d be more composed during sex,” you mused, returning your focus to him and smiling teasingly, because even now he was transfixed on your bare chest, heaving for air. Jeonghan scoffed, seemingly genuinely offended by this.

“It’s not my fault your fat fucking rack has been staring at me through that tiny fucking shirt every day,” he spat, and in a sort of retaliation he cupped your pussy through your panties.

Finally, he touched your cunt, and God, was it worth the wait, because it shot straight through your stomach, even the slightest touch on the cold, wet fabric. Jeonghan grinned cockily at the state of your underwear.

“You’re one to talk,” he teased. “Your pussy is fucking weeping for me.”

You moaned and your back twisted against the cold surface of the mirror, as Jeonghan slipped his finger upwards to circle your clit slowly.

“N-ngh, fuck..”

“There you go,” he said in fake sympathy, pouting, and even with his hand on your clit, you could almost believe it, because he just looked that angelic and pure. “Finally your greedy cunt has my hand, hm? Bet you’ve been thinking about this since we met.”

He couldn’t help himself. He trailed his free up to your chest again. It just looked so delectable, unblemished skin, jiggling at every twitch and shake from you, and nipples hardened to pebbles. “I’ve been thinking about you since we met,” he sighed happily, pinching the nipples between his fingers and relishing in your strangled whine.

Jeonghan slipped his hand in your panties, scoffing to himself at just how fucking wet you were, leaking from your hole like a slut, when his finger prodded at it.

“P-Please, Jeonghan, please, fuck-”

Your plea was cut off by Jeonghan’s hand gripping your throat. He smirked at your tortured expression, one hand circling your hole and the other wrapped around your neck, thumb climbing up your chin to rest on your lip.

“What do you want?” he tilted his head challengingly. You gulped, face flushed and baby hairs sticking to your sweat-gleamy face.

“I-I want you to finger me,” you mustered, building up all the courage you could to hold eye contact with him and his lopsided grin. He raised his eyebrows, feigning surprise.

“Really?” he sang, “you want gross, sleazy, perverted Jeonghan’s fingers up your tight, pink pussy?”

You squeezed your eyes shut. Of course, all those moments of shaming him for thirsting over you. Now you were basically fucking naked, tits perked up from your arched back and writhing under him for just a single finger in your glistening hole.

“Jeonghan, I’m sorry-”

His thumb on your lip tugged downwards, effectively muffling your words and shushing you. He watched your pretty lip bend to the will of his thumb, humming.

“Then say it,” he shrugged.

“Wha?” your speech was slurred by his heavy thumb.

“Say you want gross, sleazy, perverted Jeonghan’s fingers up your tight, pink pussy,” he repeated, acting exasperated, like it was your fault for not being able to keep up. Legs spread and utterly naked, you flushed and felt dumb, and you felt even dumber when you began to speak, and his thumb stayed where it was, weighing down your lip.

“I-I wan’ gross, sleazy, perverted Jeonghan’s fingers up my tight, pink pussy,” you slurred. Somehow the embarrassment translated into a wave of slick exciting your hole and landing on Jeonghan’s hand. He grinned at your obedience, hand pushing up so his thumb entered your mouth, pressing down on your tongue and the rest of his hand cradled your face.

“Good girl,” he purred, head craned down to look at you, suckling his thumb with wide eyes. He finally heeded your request, two fingers pushing into your sopping heat. “Now suck on my thumb like the good, big-titted girl you fucking are while I make you cum.”

He was immediately bullying his fingers in and out of you, curling them. Drool escaped where your lips wrapped around his thumb, as you moaned on it, feeling him poke and prod at your tongue with an evil smirk on his pretty face. You saw his dick print straining against his boxers in the corner of your vision.

“Been waiting for this pussy to be mine,” hummed Jeonghan, long eyelashes coming over his eyes when he looked down at you. “You know, if you’d been a little more cooperative I could’ve had my cock in you everyday for the past week.”

You sobbed around his thumb, panting for air through your nose. His fingers felt so good, pistoning into you and so thin you could feel the bulge of each crooking knuckle churning in and out. His thumb sneaked back up to rub your clit again, and you clawed at his shoulders, trying to stabilize your suddenly shaking legs.

Jeonghan let out the most erotic, guttural moan you’d ever heard, when he watched drool slip from your swollen, red lips and languidly ooze on your trembling chest. His face twisted in pleasure at the sight of them, becoming all shiny and slicked up from your own spit.

“Fuck, you’re so pathetic. Can’t believe you’re fucking drooling all over your tits,” he spat, cheeks flushed as he leaned back to look at them, all pretty and slick and glowing under the maze’s fluorescent tubes. He slipped his thumb from your mouth to begin smearing the spit all over your skin.

Your cunt pulsed around his fingers, clenching and unclenching as something in your belly tightened. You heaved for air, moaning loudly into the maze and practically crying.

“F-Fuck, Hannie, f-feels s’ good!” you whined, chest thrashing under his needy hands. He lifted his gaze to smile at you, where he was crooked over to look closely at your spit-slick boobs.

“I know, baby, I know. Cum on my fingers, now, m’kay?” He smiled cheekily, pressing especially hard on your clit. You saw white, orgasm so potent, you almost didn’t even register how Jeonghan dived into your chest, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples

The wet, smacking of his lips and his pleased humming into the soft skin only spurred on your orgasm, as your cum coated Jeonghan’s fingers. His nose, buried in the flesh of your tit, breathed out a dam of warm air into it.

His fingers stilled within you, slowly pulling out, while he continued to lap at your chest, warm tongue on your areola. You tried to catch your breath, but it was hard with how he moaned around your fucking tit, sucking and smacking his lips, while holding you to him. You cried out softly when he nibbled at it, to which he finally pulled away, smiling teasingly.

There was something about the way he was so shameless about it, that almost made you feel even more ashamed, especially when you saw your form in the mirror, and how wet and red your boob was from his insistent sucking. You blushed deeply.

“You gettin’ shy on me now?” he tapped your cheek, eyes twinkling.

“Not used to seeing myself,” you mumbled sheepishly. Jeonghan’s ever lust-filled gaze was overtaken with a very deep, fundamental adoration. His smile became genuine - not teasing nor in feigned sympathy. Despite being the sexiest person he’d ever met, Jeonghan found you so severely cute in that moment, all heaved breaths and glossy lips and rosy cheeks.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, tapping your nose. The action would’ve been annoying were not entirely too fond of him at this moment. His eyes wandered, trailing down your collarbones and back to your cleavage. Then returned the lust: “Beautiful, pretty, gorgeous girl with big, bouncing fuckin’ tits.”

His fascination with them was genuinely insane, but you thought he was pretty and sweet, so you let him marvel.

As if he could never get enough, he reached out one hand and cupped your tit again.

“Are you gonna be a good girl and let me fuck your pretty tits?” Jeonghan asked, experimentally pressing the mounds together and licking his lips at the sight. He had to swallow (and he would never admit this) because the idea actually had him salivating.

“Yes, Hannie,” you said sweetly, because although you really wanted his dick inside you, he had that twinkle in his eye that made your heart burst, and, indeed, you would do anything to keep the starlight blazing in his pupils. Jeonghan looked up with raised brows - this time, the surprise was not feigned. Swiftly, he grabbed your head and kissed you, deeply and appreciatively licking into your mouth.

“Good girl,” he murmured, rowing the two of you away from the mirror-wall with his tongue down your throat. “Good fucking girl.”

He pulled away from you, frantically looking around, and you simply waited for his command. He began to crawl onto the floor, lying down on the hard, sleek black flooring, resting on his elbows.

“C’mere,” was all he said, and you sat down on top of him, confused. He wantonly pushed you by your shoulder so you rested further down, while he lifted his hip to free his cock.

It was long and right by your fucking face.

Impossibly pretty and pink near the tip, it oozed sticky, white liquid, dripping down the veiny side, and now you were salivating, because you almost wanted to take it in your mouth and suck his soul out.

“Shit,” he groaned, studying your face next to his hard, heavy dick with a tortured expression on his face. It seemed his thoughts had traveled the same road as yours, because when he spoke, he said: “There’s so much I wanna do to you, doll. Give me another couple shifts, I’ll have your cum all over the fucking park.”

Without another word, he leaned forward and grabbed each of your tits, hovering just below where his dick extended out, proud and tall like a gothic church. You helped by crawling further over his tan body, lying down on your stomach with your chest raised up.

Jeonghan enclosed your tits around his dick, breath shaking and eyes blinking shut. The sounds he released were angelic, wetting and rewetting his fiery lips, and he struggled to keep his eyes open from the pleasure. He didn’t want to close them though, because the sight of you was insane.

You were so pretty, smiling in adoration where you laid between his legs. Prettiest girl in the world, he thought, just letting him bounce your fat tits up and down his shaft like a good, obedient girl. Your rack was like a fucking cloud around him, jerking him off and spurting pre-cum on the already slick skin.

“S-Shit, you’re so fucking- pretty-” he stuttered, breath trembling and face flushed. From every angle he saw you, perfect, pretty, cute and sweet you. Every version of you in the mirror was perfect, he realized, every copycat a perfect picture.

“You’re pretty,” you mused, wrapping your hand around the lower part of his shaft where your tits didn’t quite reach and squeezing it. Jeonghan moaned, stammering the breathy noise. He gulped then.

“I-I’m gonna cum, shit-” he sucked in a harsh breath. He could not believe how lovely you were, how witty and funny and sweet and how big your fucking tits were bouncing up and down around his cock. “C-Can I cum on them, baby?”

“Of course, Hannie,” you obeyed sweetly, watching how he desperately bucked his hips upwards. Squeezing your hand around the base of his cock, you let out a final admission to help him cum: “Want you to cum on my tits, Hannie, want it so bad.”

Sure enough, it was that easy, because without warning long ropes of thick, white cum spurted into the valley of your breasts and climbed up to your collarbones and neck. Jeonghan cried out when he came, eyes finally squeezing totally shut and hips stuttering into your chest. He sounded angelic, even with his voice hoarse from the weed and grunting.

You let him calm down, waited until his pants turned into soft, regular breaths, and released his now flaccid cock from your cleavage.

“Oh shit, baby,” he sighed happily. “Come up here.”

You crawled up to his chest, curling into his open arms and feeling him under your cheek. Your legs entangled on the funhouse floor, mirrors a little foggy from the sweat and the sex. It was perfect, lying in his chest, having him, knowing he wanted you and liked you. Perfectly timeless, you draped over each other limply.

Or almost perfect.

You wiggled your hips away from his body, hoping then he wouldn’t notice how you were still leaking from your poor, puffy hole. Jeonghan frowned when you did so, though, both hands grabbing your waist and tilting his head down to look at you.

“What is it, baby?” he asked.

You looked away bashfully, shaking your head, but Jeonghan gripped your face in one hand, just as condescending as his thumb had been earlier: “You’re covered in my cum, baby. You’re not getting shy on me now. Tell Hannie what’s troubling you.”

His voice was stern. You tightened your lips the best you could with his hand squeezing your cheeks together.

“I just..” you were embarrassed again, with how your words became muffled and slurred by his flexed hand. He paid it no mind though, looking at you intently to continue.

“YouweresoprettyearlierIgotwetagain.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. From beyond the dark void, you heard Jeonghan laughing. You opened your eyes and he removed his hand from your face, instead brushing it through your hair lovingly.

You were gonna get whiplash with how lovingly he looked at you, how sweetly and with so much wonder and adoration; and how it stood in such a stark contrast to the words that left his mouth:

“Baby, you just get up and bounce your fat tiddies around a little bit, I promise you, I’ll get hard in the next five fucking minutes. Then you can get my cock in your cute, greedy pussy. How’s that sound?”

Really fucking good.

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gxbbyhoneybadger · 1 year

Note

Can you please do a part two of mission .???!!!

Oh my! Well, of course anonymous user. Never though there'd be a sequel but oh well! Part 2 is right here now!

Mission XXXIV-XXXV

Part 2

Pairing: !Yautja!Scar x !F!Shy!Reader

Summary: Y/n wakes up in a different place, her home no longer anywhere and instead placed within a strange cell with different Warriors watching her. Soon she's delivered to kneel in front of an Elder—next thing she knew, she was mated with Scar. Becoming first Yautja mated couple ever in their history, but for Y/n to permanently be respected as one of them, she must first become a Warrior.

Warnings: Adult language, threats, assault, scarification, death, arguments, anxiety, fluff, teasing, sexual tension, eventual smut, gentle to rough smut, clawing, biting, comfort.

A/n: The Roman numerals in the title translate to 34-35. So it means Mission 34-35 . . . Or Mission-69 heheh. I also did some studying on their language, (keyword: some.)

Fun Fact (Maybe): I saw a comic page and read that the Yautja can "speak" through their own sign language: Hand-signal of the Hunt. Or Silent Hand.

Part 1

Minors DNI 🔞 18 below the cut.

~Y/n pov~

Was my bed always this cold? I fell asleep in his arms, and I finally woke up alone in a dark place. I gasped as I backed up and hit my head on the cold wall, I shivered as I tried to figure out my surroundings. I was naked, the only thing I had was my old blanket, I hugged it as I stood up on my feet.

My thighs ached from—I shuddered remembering that I lost my virginity to whatever creature he was. I walked to the cell bars and tried to see if there was anyone here, "H-Hello?" I said, "Hello! I-Is anyone there! Can you please tell me where I am!?"

I could hear muffled beeping noises from down the halls, everything was unusual and unfamiliar for me. "Please! Anyone-! Gah!" I yelped—two large beasts walked in front of me. I stepped back and watched them, they wore similar masks with different designs. Around seven feet tall, both musclar beasts.

". . . W-Where am I?" I whispered, they clicked and growled lowly to each other. I could hear some soft of soft engine humming around us, where was I? "Please! Tell me where I am!" I begged.

They both looked to the left as another creature like them clicked out and order or some sort of command, one of them unlocked the cell before the second walked in towards me. "W-Who are you-? Hey! Let me go!" I yelped—he pulled me out by my arm and pushed me to walk forwards. I'd instantly get killed if I tried to fight any of them, I just obeyed and went along with their orders.

~3rd pov~

The Yautjas led Y/n deeper into their ship when it just landed on their planet, Yautja Prime, she was given a collar and had her wrists chained before she was brought out. She was so lost in the new world, being pulled along like a dog and shown off as an accessory to the other fellow Yautjas who lived there. Each one stared at her with confusion and judgement, thinking of her as a weak opponent to kill.

The two dragged her to a large empire, the large stairs led into a hall which opened up into a room where a Clan Leader sat. He had multiple spikes and grown dreadlocks that almost touched his thighs, his claws tapping on his throne chair as Y/n was forced to her knees in front of him.

She was terrified and lost, she held onto her blanket as she watched Scar, wearing his silver mask, approach the Elder. She couldn't understand what they were saying, but it sounded close to a argument, or Scar trying to convince the Elder to allow something. Y/n glanced behind her and saw the other Yautjas, all glancing at the Elder and Scar before down at her.

She was shaking like a leaf while she knelt there defenseless, Scar stepped aside as the Elder snarled while standing up. He raised his left hand and signaled one of the Yautjas to bring him an item; she jumped when she heard the familiar screeching of a Xenomorph before one of them killed it. The seven foot creature handed the Elder a severed finger of the Xenomorph and approached Y/n—he removed her chains as his eyes examined her frail form.

She gasped when his rough hand held her shoulder, her eyes found Scar's as the Elder clenched her shoulder for her attention. "W-What are you doing?" She asked him. "You are Blooded." The Elder said to her, his tone deeper than Scar's was. She let her eyes close when he brought the acidic finger to her cheek, scarring her skin permanently with a symbol of her Xenomorph kill.

Scar was informing the Elder of her kill, and how she managed to use one of their weapons against their enemy species, how she proved to be an ally and a warrior. She clenched her jaw in pain from the burning feeling, he then stepped back and looked at the Warriors. Y/n gulped as she reached up to feel the permanent mark on her cheek before everyone roared in unison—she covered her ears again. After they were done the Elder Yautja approached Scar and held his shoulder, clicking and snarling as they communicated in their language.

Scar growled but the Elder snarled back, before looking at her. "W-Why am I here? What's going to happen to me!" She whimpered out with fear rattling her nerves. A Yautja approached the Elder, his dreadlocks were short and he looked slightly smaller than Scar did—in his hands he carried some sort of pelt from one of the creatures that probably lived on this planet with them, something was packaged within it.

The Elder Yautja pointed at her and the Yautja walked to her before dropping it at her knees, "W-What is this?" She asked, she heard the muffled snarling and clicks coming from the other Yautjas behind her. Her hands trembled as she reached for the package, untying the skin like thread and unfolding it.

Seeing a few pieces of rather revealing clothing, if you can even call it clothing. "I-I don't think this is appropriate-?", "Dress yourself." The Elder growled out to her. She lifted the strange light green colored top that would just barely even cover her breasts. Her sides would be bare and the bottom would reveal her legs, she sighed from the outfit choice but stood up with the pieces before glancing at Scar. "Do I. . . dress up here?"

The Elder looked away and communicated with Scar instead, Y/n with no other choice, started to slip on and try the outfit, of course still having the blanket over herself. The bottom was similar to a thong beneath the hanging pieces of cloth attached to it, she pulled it up and let the cloth hang—covering just her front and rear, reaching to her knees while her thighs and waist were exposed. She grabbed the top next, seeing that it'll only cover her breasts and nothing else, she'll be showing sideboob, but hopefully the front will be hidden.

She tied a knot with the strings behind her neck and let it remain covering her chest just barely. She rechecked to see if she was fully covered before looking at Scar and the Elder who were now looking at her—she sighed and dropped the blanket. Showing her new two-piece outfit that she'll most likely have to keep on for however long she's kept here. She hugged her arms when the Elder signaled for them to leave, Scar walked to her and escorted her out of the temple.

"Why am I here? What is this place?" She questioned Scar, now covering her stomach as she passed dozens of more Yautjas. Everyone of them were males, adults or in their teen years. Some wore armor, while some didn't. The weather was warm and sunny, it didn't feel cold at all. "Where are you taking me?"

Scar led her to a further place away from the others, approaching a medium sized hut. Skulls and bones remained hanging around it, his trophies of past hunts. He led her inside left her there. "Well, this is great. I get fucked by some sort of alien, fall asleep and wake up to a knockoff Pandora planet like I'm in some sort of Avatar movie, and now I'm wearing this slutty outfit like I'm a stripper or something! I don't even know your name, that big one in that temple was looking at me like I was his next meal, I don't know what's going on and you still aren't saying anything to me-!"

"Scar." He growled as he approached her, easily overshadowing her as he watched her. "S-Scar?. . . That's your name?" She whispered as she slightly stepped back. "Top-Knot ha-as agreed to ma-ake you Blooded ally. He accepts yo-ou, but for yo-ou to keep your non-co. You mus-st become a kv'var-de." Y/n could piece his words together, but she didn't understand that word.

"A-A what? A kavalar?" Scar shook his head and knelt on one knee to be close to her height. "Kv'var-de. . . Hunter." He said. Y/n looked at her clothing then at him, "What if I don't want to become a hunter?" She whispered, "I'm weak. I'm not like you or the others out there. . . I'm just. . . Human."

He snarled, tilting his head but remained watching her, "M-di ooman can kill kiande amedha." He growled out. ". . . Huh?" His mandibles clicked as he stood again. "We te-each each othe-er." He said before walking out of the area and into another small room in the hut. She was left confused and lost in their language, how long is this going to last?

~Y/n pov~

Scar was true to his word about teaching each other something. He showed me how to sign, speak, and understand their language, after he tested my learning by signing a sentence out for me. Which I barely understood, so he flicked my head for messing up—it shouldn't have hurt as much as it did, but I forgot how much bigger and stronger he was compared to me. I'd teach him how to pronounce and understand English words and sentences, and in return, I'd be able to smack his chest—which I doubt even hurt this S'yuit-de.

He'd throw tiny insults here and there at me, call me a Hulij-bpe jehdin, which I finally found that it meant Crazy One, or Crazy Individual. So in return for learning his language, I called him S'yuit-de kv'var-de, which meant Pathetic Hunter, or Idiot Hunter. And I knew it offended him when he'd just quietly glare down at me, but I enjoyed it. At least four or three days have passed already and I've been dragged out into the unfamiliar world, I'd watch how he'd hunt and kill our next meal. It was upsetting but oddly satisfying to see. I saw the trees and strange like flying creatures that they had, but nothing prepared me to see the females who passed through.

I could feel their judgemental eyes lingering on me when I wasn't looking, they were taller than the males. Around eight feet tall at most, broader and rather aggressive. "Why are they staring at me?" I whispered to Scar. "They do not approve of ooman-dei."

They don't approve of human women. . . That explains it. They'd snap and flare their mandibles when I looked at them, I kept my eyes and head low out of submission, to not pose as a threat. I felt like I was at a new school and the mean girls were already scheming against me. Scar pulled my arm and held me against his body when a Yautja approached us, it was a female and of course she started to communicate to him.

My broken understanding of the Yautja language could only pick up so much. They rarely talk, but they used sounds to communicate to one another. The female arched her back and flared her mandibles at Scar, he roared at her before she shoved my shoulder back. Almost shoving me to the ground if it weren't for Scar's hand.

He told me about this. When a Yautja pushes your shoulder with their hand: they're challenging you for a fight.

I started to panic, my strength was nothing compared to Scar's, or even a female! I didn't know what they were clearly arguing about but it made her pissed off to the point where she wanted to fight me. And most likely kill me during that fight. "What's happening?!" I asked. She roared at me and Scar finally shoved her backwards out of defense when she tried to grab me.

He picked me up and his lower mandibles were flaring, before he carried me away from the female who was staring me down.

~~~

He didn't bring it up once, but it was on replay in my head, I'm pretty sure he sensed my confusion since he decided to lay beside me on the large furry cot. It was soft and comfortable to lay on, something I didn't expect. ". . . Scar, how long am I going to stay here." I asked him.

He raised his hand and tested me, he signed out what I could possibly read out as: Until you become Hunter. I held my head before asking, "How much time do I have until the Elders test me?"

He signed again: Two Weeks.

I groaned and laid on my back as I looked at the ceiling, I still wore the same revealing outfit before looking at him. "Why was that female mad? Did I do something wrong?" I whispered to him. "M-di. . . She wanted me to breed her." He answered.

"Why did she challenge me?" I questioned, slowly scooting closer to his larger frame and resting my head on his bicep. "I said m-di to her. I told her that you were my mate." I looked at him and felt my heart jump out of my chest. His mate. His mate!

"I-I—You told me that Yautja don't mate for life, you just. . . Reproduce?" Scar lowly purred before his sharp eyes looked in mine. "No-t you and me." He replied. I rested my face on his large pec and bit my lip, feeling that flutter of butterflies swirl in my gut when I thought of being his. His alone. He's not going to mate with anyone else except me. It then led me to getting an idea that would probably scare the crap out of any other chick, but not me, clearly I'm the crazy one for wanting to fuck this Yautja.

I sat up and sighed as I let my head hang back, "Do you still think about it? That night we spent together?" I asked him, he let out a deep growl before I turned and straddle his large hips. His eyes opened and found mine, "I still think about it." I added—letting my hips slowly grind against his loincloth, which I felt growing stiffer every passing second.

"Prove that you are not just kv'var-de, but a good Pauk-de as well." I smirked. Kv'var-de meant Hunter, but Pauk-de meant Fucker. His growl reverberated through me before he shoved me onto my back, pinning my arms above my head as he growled at me. "Do no-t temp me, Hulij-bpe jehdin." He warned, his dreadlocks brushed against my shoulders and arms. I let my right leg graze his waist as I arched my back on purpose—letting my top press perfectly against my breasts to show them off to him.

"What if I want you tempted?" I giggled, his mandibles clicked and snapped, he growled before placing his jaws on my shoulder and biting down on me. I gasped and let out a choked groan when he released my skin, licking up the blood that formed from the small puncture wounds.

"You need me to ell-osde' puak." He snarled out, I understood those words clearly: You need me to fuck you. "Sei-i." I mewled, yes, yes, I did want him to fuck me. I don't know what's been up with me, but I've been craving more of Scar ever since I got here. I've been pissing him off to make him snap, but clearly he has restraint. Maybe all I needed to do was make it obvious.

I lifted my hips into his and bit my lip when I felt his erection, "Come on, puak me, Scar." I purred. His jaws snapped in front of my face, I only responded by lifting my head and licking his mandibles. He held my wrists down with one hand, and let his other reach down to move my cloth to the side. A soft sigh left me when I felt his large length rub against my folds, "Kwei ooman-dei. . ." He snarled. Sly human woman.

I wanted to try something I've never done, but I wasn't sure. "Scar, please." I begged. His repetitive clicking was a sign of him chuckling at me, I whimpered when he notched the tip of his unnatural cock inside of me. Slowly pushing each inch into me, I could feel my cunt being stretched and accepting his invading length.

His hands clenched my wrists while he continued to sheath himself inside of me—finally gasping when his full cock was buried inside of my velvet canal. My legs hugged his sides as I arched my back, "Scar!" I moaned out; his scale covered body was emitting heat onto mine, his hand undid my top before he cupped my breasts. Squeezing and kneading them—exploring my body with his hand.

Slowly, he started to roll his hips into me. He earned multiple mewls, grunts, and moans from me; hisses and growls came from him, his tongue trailed up from between the valleys of my breasts, up my throat and into my mouth. I whined as I pressed my tongue against his forked one, he pulled out and heavily thrusted himself into me.

"Eek!" I yelped, I felt his claws tickle my side as it brushed down the side of my ribs and my waist to hold my thigh open. He watched as he slowly pulled out to the tip—then sinking back into me. Purring as he enjoyed the sensation of his cock being squeezed by my tight cunt, "More, more, Scar!" I pleaded as I clenched my knuckles.

Scar enjoyed being in control, taking his time and relaxing in the experience. He told me that the females were aggressive during their mating, and from what happened this morning, I believed him. Scar's pumps into me was satisfying to hear, it felt so amatory. He finally released my wrists and gripped my hips—he stood on his knees and lifted my lower body off the bed. I cried out when he continued to fuck me in such a lewd position.

It was so hot to see this Predator take what he wanted from me, such a sweet way but with harsh strength. "Ngh! Yes! Yes! Scar! Ah, keep going!" I exhorted out. Scar's snarls turn into a growling purr as he dug his nails into my flesh—I felt his thrusts get a bit harder. My mouth was agape as he started to get quicker with his grinding. He stilled inside of me fully for a moment and lifted my back towards his face—dragging his tongue over my breasts and tasting me.

I hummed with satisfaction as I let my body melt in his hands, he was so strong, it didn't bother him to hold me and fuck me at the same time. I touched his dreadlocks and licked one of them, he roared before he started to piston his cock up into my stretched cunt. "Oh fuck!" I screamed out with agonizing pleasure. The room was already hot and so was the weather, my body was shedding sweat as he grinded his musclar self onto me.

I dug my nails into his shoulders as he kept going, moaning at each heavy pump he made—my nails dragged down his skin but he didn't care. I doubted he even felt it. His skin texture was so different compared to mine, his strength, his eyes, his demeanor and culture. Everything was unique about him.

My end was nearing, I was going to cum, I was so close to cumming. I let my hand started teasing my clit as he kept fucking me, his large paw cupped my head while he wrapped the other around my waist—still keeping me midair. Weak and broken gasps croaked from my soaked lips as he kept getting rougher.

That tight band—tighter and coiling up in a tight ball, about to blow. The light from the stick of dynamite about to denote within my nerves—my hands instinctively grabbed his dreadlocks and held on. He roared again and hugged my torso tightly. Thrusting faster than before, my tongue was hanging out like a bitch in heat, my heart racing faster than a race horse as I finally squealed—feeling my juices coat our lower areas.

The spark ignited and finally blew. The shocks burned through my limbs and my sight went white as I shut my eyes, my breath lost from my lungs as I climaxed on his thick cock still ramming into me. My sensitive squeaks and cries were ignored by Scar—he was lost in the wave of his own pleasure.

I knew we'd be here all night, I'm tired out, but he won't be anytime soon. He told me he finished quickly last time because I was exhausted, but now, I'm sure he'll stop. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and rested my head on him, he still didn't slow down. My body was beginning to feel like lead as I tried to speak. But I couldn't.

I was too exhausted by this. So exhausted, I wanted to sleep. . . Which I did eventually.

~3rd pov~

The sun had risen, and so did Y/n. She woke up to a messy cot, her top on the floor as she remained wearing the bottom piece. She woke up to an empty bed, Scar was gone and she didn't know where he went. She got up and tied on her top once again before heading walking out of the room to find him.

"Scar?" Y/n muttered, crossing her arms as she slowly walked around the hut, checking the meat room, the main area and even outside next. No sign of Scar. She was worried until she remembered that he was probably out on a hunt. Sighing, she walked to the room again and sat on the bed. Relaxing into the pelt as she thought about him.

She just woke up, fully clean and even tucked into the pelt, he cleaned her and fixed her up in bed. She lightly traced her lips with her fingers as she smiled at the thought of a extraterrestrial being treating her like a lover. Some time passed and he returned to the hut, she looked and saw him drop a strange creature on the ground before entering the room. Carrying a box with him.

She crawled on her hands and knees on the bed and sat as she looked at him, "I missed you." She said. Scar let out a deep hum as he approached her, she reached up and planted a kiss on his shoulder. A growl escaped him as he handed her the box. She took it and started to open it up, her brow arching when she saw the odd outfit.

"What is this-?. . . Wait a minute." She mumbled, pulling out a fishnet outfit with solid pieces of armor on important places such as the breasts, and the nether regions. Reminding her of Scar's own armor, she lifted the fishnet outfit and saw a silver mask that looked similar to Scar's just without the blooded mark. It wasn't big, but it was her size. Arm cuffs and a small weapon within it. She looked at him with a confused look.

"Today. . . yo-ou Kv'var." He said to her. She gulped as she looked down at the custom made armor.

Today, she hunts.

_______________________________________________

I hope you enjoyed the sequel!

#fanfic #smutwarning #slow burn #yautja smut #yautja x you #yautja x human #yautja x reader #yautja #predator x human #predator x you #predator x reader #alien vs predator #predator smut #predator

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onyxoverride · 3 years

Text

Camellias at Sundown

Miche Zacharius x Reader

◙warnings: forbbiden love, mutual pining, happy ending, some angst (familial death + longing,) soft smut minors dni (18+), cunnilingus + stockings, fingering + mirror, then finally sensual sex, Erwin x Levi mentioned.

◙word count: 8k

◙summary: Miche Zacharius has a duty as the only son to the rich Zacharius family to play out his role as the future lord of the estate. But he’s been in love with the you, the gardener of the estate ever since he was young and with inhibitions lessened, he pursues you.

◙note: thank you so much @lady-lunaaa for beta-ing this I appreciate you endlessly to the moon and back. This is for Rias 3k Richboy Collab!! @bakugohoex thank you for letting me participate! I am also doing Yuji which is here: Sweet Secrets. Please support everybody else's fic as well thank you for reading I hope you enjoy!!! I think this may be my favorite thing I've written so far :0

Miche Zacharius has seen the inner workings of his own gilded cage since he was young. Each bar engraved with different obligations — to his family, to his standing in society, to everyone around him except the person he wants most.

When he saw you, it was when you were not old enough to work properly. Playing with the trimming of hedges your mother snipped while he was studying Latin and Italian with a ruler smacked against his wrists every time you caught his eye. To say the least, he had a lot of bruises.

When he and his friends, that he had to make through his position as a rich man’s son, sat outside his eyes would always go to you. Snipping away at the extensions of blushing flowers, some crimson, others an innocent white but all smelling just as sweet. A mixture of jasmine and citrus, subtle but still sweet. This is when his friend Hanji would nudge him, push him towards you in a childlike fashion. The only time where they could truly represent their age. Erwin would chuckle behind a teacup while throwing a glance at his young raven-haired butler, sharing an amused subdued smile. And while his mentors and his nanny weren’t looking he would sneak to you, as quiet as he could almost as if he’d scare you but he is simply too large, even as a child. Making sure his eyebrows aren’t drawn because apparently he looks intimidating like that before getting your attention with a cough (he can hear Hanji laughing behind him at his behavior.)

“Uhm…” his foot is tapping the grass behind his heel while he rubs the back of his neck. Too focused on how he presented himself to you to think of what he should say until he catches the sight of the flowers in your hands, calloused and overworked from the daily work.

“The flowers- uh- what are they?” grimacing at his own words, scolding himself because seriously? They’re obviously fucking flowers you just said it Miche-

Your laugh cuts his thoughts off. Gentle and subdued after years of learning how to be quiet around the people you serve, “they’re camellia’s,” you grasp the blossom of one of the pink flowers and offer it to him.

“Oh,” flower set into the plain of his hand makes it seem smaller than it truly is, blushing against his hand and his face just as pink, “well, they’re very pretty…”

“I’m glad you think so, young lord,” and it all comes reeling back, tethering him to reality once again as you try to continue your duty. You spare one last glance, hoping your mother doesn’t see how wanting it looks.

His tailored suit feeling all too tight as he walks back to his friends, they’re teasing him. Tugging at his shirt while he gives a faux laugh to appease them. He keeps watching, attention torn between the small flower he delicately holds, sweet smell seeping into the lines of his hands, and you. You, who keeps working as quietly as you can, trimming out the weaker flowers so the strong will shine through.

That night he presses a flower into his favorite book and hopes the smell never fades, nor this memory.

■

Instead of asking Nanny for stories or a snack before bed, he’d ask about you. Words travel as quick as fire amongst gossips and as good-natured as the woman who raised him is, she still finds entertainment in running her mouth and knowing too much. So, she’d tell him everything, and often. About how your father passed when you were young like his mother did, how your mother raised you in the small gardener’s house with a small bedroom shared between the two of you. About how your father and mother were the best gardeners they’ve ever had and you were developing your skills even quicker than them, like all of you had a sixth sense for nature. About how you don’t even know how to make or pour proper tea like most of the servants but survive through your skill, hands tracing vines, and keeping track of the tastiest fruit to share with the estate when the grapefruit and lemons bloom and ripen. About how on your eighteenth summer, only a few years ago, your mother passed and you now live alone in the gardener’s house. Even if he has heard it over and over again, he’d tug Nanny’s dress and wait for her to tell her more. Including the mundane about how you trip over yourself too often to count when you enter the house. As quick as fire — you’d hear about it from some other servant that joined you for dinner. Trying to hide heated cheeks and covering your face with the bread you eat. You’d say nothing for the time being, not wanting to drag him further down into a possible affair that would ruin you and him if he continued to pursue this childish crush. But each and every servant, especially the older ones, found it so endearing and just a bit as worrying. They still orchestrated to have you around even just a bit more so he would have more stories to listen to, and you’d slip out little facts about yourself knowing Miche would in the end hear those words. If not from your mouth, at least from someones.

■

Often Miche wonders why he was born at his stature. Not height, though it does become worrying when everybody shies away from him because of how tall he looms. His class stature. Money rolling off of everything he owns simply because of his blood and how he comes from a line of skilled detectives with a superior sense of smell that makes their job seem like child play. It’s not like he wants to spend his life sending you longing looks. The few times you’ve interacted carved into his mind, waiting for the time he doesn’t need to engrave and savor. They are few and far between with barely anything shared besides conversation and gentle innocent touches, loving looks with no words to address them.

Even when his father became ill, he sought you out before anybody else. You know how he longs for you, pulling at your heartstrings every time you catch his gaze. The first time he’s become vulnerable for anybody is when he caught your arm, late at night in the kitchens after arranging some citrus arrangements for his sick father. He’s silent at first, only a small huff through his nose while his hair covers his eyes. He doesn’t like his father, they never cared for each other particularly. It’s as if he barely knows the man, which may be the part that hurts his heart the most.

“Young lord-”

“No-” he sighs, fingers trailing around your wrists, “just Miche. For you, please, just Miche.”

Not once has he ever broken his tough demeanor, carefully crafted from a young age due to his upbringing, but now it’s crumbling even just a bit.

“M-Miche,” it feels unfamiliar but not unwelcome on your tongue, you can see how his muscles unravel at the sound of your voice. You have craved his touch and attention and now that it is night, inhibitions are lessened and comforted by the blanket of stars and quiet household, maybe accepting it isn’t too bad now. Hands gentle around his, realizing just how big they are in comparison to yours makes him huff in amusement. You can tell he doesn’t wish to talk about what plagues his mind, it’s not quite your business to ask either but you bring his hand up to your lips. Not kissing, just grazing over the writing callouses he’s developed and over the flushed joints. He leans forward, pressing you gently against the counter as he pulls his hand away from you. For a moment you’re worried you have overstepped your boundaries, misinterpreted something, but he presses your hands into his face. He looks so much more mature now than from when he stuttered to talk to you as a child. Eyebrows finally relaxed even just a bit from the forever intimidating scowl he wears, eyes closed and savoring your eternally calloused and injured hands running over his scruff. The sweetness from the flowers permeates your skin and the citrus you handled earlier slightly sours the scent. Nonetheless, it comforts him. Your warmth, your scent, and your gaze settled on him. He won’t lie and say he doesn’t like being the only one you’re looking at even if just for a moment. The curse of selfishness love brings upon an individual is unusual to him, you would think by now he would have gotten used to the sting that courses through his gut whenever he realizes over and over again that you are not his, and he is not yours.

Silence extending to the two of you before he presses a kiss into your knuckles, “you should come into the estate more often.”

“Inside would be strange for someone who takes care of plants,” you say, amused with how childlike he sounds despite his deep voice.

“There are plants inside.”

“The maids take care of them,” you caress a thumb over his lips as he sighs, “but I suppose arranging more vases wouldn’t be so bad.”

You cave all too easily for his puppy-dog eyes and the adoration hidden behind his words. But this is all you two can afford. Stolen touches and soft beginnings, hand pressed into his chest with a small kiss into his knuckles and both of you are ripped away from each other once again.

His gilded cage feels too tight.

■

At first, Erwin thought it was just a young man’s infatuation with another person his age. A young and childish crush on a pretty girl that smelled like flowers but gradually as they got older, the others of his social group realized it was much more.

Miche contemplates the scenes outside too sorrowfully for a man who is not mourning. It’s easy to see he’s trying to look for something or perhaps someone. Erwin caught on early why he gazes so strangely outside the window and how Miche twirls flowers between his fingers whenever there’s a vase of them around, fingers trailing along petals and putting them back trying to make the arrangement look undefiled.

For a skilled consultant detective, he leaves a horribly obvious trail.

“From what I know, you’re not supposed to be pursuing a servant,” a chess table sits between them, untouched for a moment for the sake of tea.

“You have no room to talk, Erwin,” he cuts a glance to Levi standing quietly until he scoffs at the insinuation. The red that invades his cheeks cannot be tsked away. They have all been together since they were children — there is no way Erwin and Levi’s secrecy could slip past him, Hanji, and Nile. Miche’s superior senses and being groomed into a detective, he was the first to figure it out. Nile did take much longer to catch on. Too busy chasing after his now soon-to-be wife.

“I’m aware,” he pauses to take a sip of his tea, “I simply said you’re not supposed to. I never said not to.”

Miche hides his face behind the teacup, cursing Erwin for saying anything because now he is putting agency behind his pining. But he is not like Erwin, someone who can be satisfied with secrecy, and he is not like Hanji, someone with a harem under the spell of their charms. He wants you to be his, shamelessly his, loudly and proudly his, and he wants to be shamelessly yours, to tell everybody that his love resides in a beautiful woman with calloused hands and a sweet voice.

He was never strong in the first place when it came to you but now it seems his strength is withering away completely.

■

Ever since Miche mentioned wanting you in the estate more, you have been learning some new skills. Who knew making potpourris could be so useful? The maids inside the estate seem to love them, making the closets smell sweet instead of stale, they even requested some for the bathrooms. You agreed as long as they could spare some cinnamon for you to use in it.

Late in the evening with a sheer bag of your homemade potpourri, you sneak into the household. Catching a glimpse of Miche is not exactly rare but definitely not as common as you both hope. Better than before but still not enough for either of you. There’s a place in your heart that craves to be completed and you know only Miche can satiate it.

What’s frustrating is that the dress code inside the estate is different, so you had to trade some fresh lavender for a pair of white stockings instead of your usual gardening attire. Your clumsiness rears its head once more, tripping on your way to the bathroom on the second story not even realizing Miche is there before he’s holding your arm so you don’t fall flat onto the floor.

It’s highly embarrassing. Tripping so messily in front of him. There’s an art in the way the rich ladies swoon and faint prettily so the one they want to court can catch them but that was nothing of the sort. You see this as an inconvenience not an art form, completely frazzled and stuttering but Miche sees a chance. Erwin’s innuendo bounces around in his head and before he even thinks, he’s pulling you into the bathroom with him, looking into the hallway before closing the door.

He finally takes a moment to process the situation. You and him are alone, in a secluded bathroom away from anybody at the moment. This may be the only chance he has at the moment to pursue you. But instead of being the suave bachelor he should be, he catches a whiff of the strong potpourri and stutters out, “what’s-what’s this?”

Watching a dignified man fall over himself is endearing, seeing his cheeks glow like when he was a kid and his green eyes look more lively when they catch yours, “Oh! I made it. To make places smell good...”

He nods, barely listening as he leans closer into you, pressing you against the sink counter. You are sure you sound foolish but neither of you are really paying attention to that, “you know we shouldn’t be alone together. If anybody sees us-”

“No one will, I promise.”

There’s a firm confidence in his voice you cannot deny, letting his hand trail up your arm and to your jaw.

“Can I?”

The possible consequences of your actions melt into puddles at his desperate look, begging and pleading even just for a kiss. You give in, nodding into his hand.

He’s unexpectedly... soft. Holding you like fine china with barely brave kisses, finally indulging in an almost life-long craving is euphoric. There is a small moan pressed into your connected lips and as soft as this moment is, knowing you make the only son of the renowned family of the Zacharius’ sound so pitiful is revitalizing, filling you with confidence that you never had the courage to grasp onto.

Grasping onto the lapels of his coat, you pull away just for a moment, feeling his hand trail down to the peaks of your ass. Just being touched by him sends heat coursing through your veins and puddling into your nethers. The tops of his cheeks to the tips of his ears are red as roses as he pushes out another request, “can I... touch you more, please?”

His age deceives him, now he looks so young and bashful that you cannot help but laugh, “have you never...?”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just-” he curls down into your neck, “you’re different.” You’re special, is what he truly wants to say.

It is risky. Both of you in a stray bathroom in the estate, both of you of completely different class standings, both of you completely head over heels in love with each other. The warmth of his hands linger on every part of you they have touched, your jaw, your hips, your ass. Maybe the risk is worth it.

“Then touch me all you wish, I have no objections.”

Immediately his hands descend to your thighs, pushing up the uniform dress until he is able to feel your skin under a thin layer of stocking. Trailing his fingers to the warmest part between your legs and it isn’t until you are keening and gasping that he finally pulls you to sit in the chair present in the bathroom for visiting ladies purses. Miche is quick to be on his knees between your legs, working off your shoes to set a stocking-covered foot on the juncture of his thigh as he flips the skirt over his head. Now you cannot see him but you can feel him. Hot breath huffed against your thighs sending a shiver through you.

“You’ve served my family so well,” large hands around your ankle and thigh to keep you in place for him while he is kissing at your cunt through your stockings and panties, “let me serve you now.”

The kiss is a muted feeling because of the fabric but nonetheless, it makes you suck in a breath, watching his head move underneath the dress.

Part of him does not wish to cause you inconvenience but the impatience moves his hands before his mind catches up, blunt nails pinching at the fabric covering the place he can smell that is so purely you. Pinching until a little hole is created so he can wiggle a finger in and tear the fabric a big enough hole to reach your cunt. The rip startles you but the fact that he is desperate enough to act so beastly sends a shiver down your spine. God, this is the scent he could only catch a few rare times, the scent he fucks his fist to at night wishing it was you. But now is not the time to dream. His fantasy is brought to life before him, finally able to push your panties aside and stare at your cunt despite the darkness of your skirt covering him. He lets his hand ghost over your clit, savoring how your hips jump a bit, gathering your slick on his fingers and watching how it pulls thin only to finally put his mouth upon your mound. Not minding the curls accenting it or the lingering smell of soil permanently stuck to your skin. In fact, he prefers it because all of these traits are so distinctly you and he cannot get enough of the fact that he is between your legs and under your skirt.

A hot tongue presses firmly against your lower lips, licking in between until he is pushing his face nose deep into your cunt, nose knocking against your clit as his tongue works around your hole. Your head falls slack against the wall, you fold the leg he is not holding against the chair next to his head as your other foot knocks against his growing bulge. Even just feeling his member beneath your covered foot makes your eyes widen because of the size and how desperately his hips chase the pressure. He’s fumbling to hold your leg firmly against his tightened pants, pushing your ankle against his cock as he devours your cunt with dedication. You wish you could at least see him in his full glory but for now, you are satisfied with this.

If anything, you would compare him to a desperate dog humping your leg and lapping at your nethers like it is his last meal on this earthly plane. You find your hands wanting to dig into his hair but the best they can do is clench the fabric over his head. Your hips are following the flow of his tongue, his other hand placed on them to guide your juicy cunt into his mouth while he moans into it. You can just barely feel the edges of his scruff scratch at the sensitive skin around your inner thighs and cunt. The depth of his voice reverberates through your clit and you can feel an orgasm march steadily along your belly while Miche continuously rolls his hips into your ankle. He could cum just from the smell of your cunt sticking to his lips and nose, just imagine how he feels right now.

But he keeps his pace steady despite some of your squirming, licking until he feels his scruff is soaked by your cum and immediately sets to work on cleaning up your juices with his tongue. You keep a hand over your mouth to muffle your sounds. One last thrust into your leg and he is falling apart quickly, cum sticking to his underwear as his hand roughly grips your thigh so he does not moan loud enough to attract any unwanted onlookers. If only you could see how his eyes roll back and his jaw clench.

Again, you feel a hot breath against your thighs as he shifts your panties over your soaked cunt. He pulls back as you gather your skirt to your hips so you can see him and what a sight it is. Heady green eyes and breathless pants paired with disheveled hair and a wet face and beard, licking his lips and huffing through his nose until most of your juices are gone with his tongue and fingers assistance.

Your hand is still present over your mouth, almost frozen in shock about how both you and Miche crossed a line that cannot be uncrossed. Not that you exactly care anymore, your hands pull his face to yours and into another long-winded kiss where you can taste your own juices and his soft tongue once more.

Reluctantly, he pulls back, adjusting your shoes back onto your feet and leaving a wet kiss to your inner thigh before helping you up.

“I should... wash up. You leave before me,” he presses soft kisses onto your scarred knuckles, turning you toward the door with a tap on your ass that leaves you giggling out a farewell.

Next time he wants to see your face when you cum. He would forfeit heaven and earth just experience you once again.

■

The local police came to him with a theft case not long after you two’s... endeavor. Since he has been busy with that, he has not been able to see you besides the occasional glances into the garden. The case was relatively easy too, despite having to pick up for his father’s lack of presence due to his illness that is slowly chipping away at his life. The theft is either the victim’s brother or his brother’s wife and now it is up to the cops to figure it out and knowing them, it will be a slow process with too much paperwork. Miche can already feel the forming headache swelling on his temporal lobe and has already asked one of the maids present to whip up some soothing tea. Chamomile cannot fix his problems but it can make the stress knot in his shoulders untangle just a bit.

What you did not expect is the said maid shoving the tray of tea into your hands, trading them for the rose potpourri you were delivering to Nanny and pushing you in the directions of Miche’s office. Obviously, she took the chance for you and Miche to interact some more, spurring on the continuation of forbidden love even if it was partially for their entertainment. First of all, you do not even know how to pour tea. You are not a maid, you were never trained in that area but put some garden shears in your hands and you could make the garden look pretty as a painting. It shouldn’t be too hard, right?

Wrong. Your hands are already shaking when you meet Miche’s eyes, his eyebrows shooting to his eyebrows and cheeks flushing, memories rushing back into your minds. The heat of his eyes travels up your neck as you silently set the teacup down beside him. For a second, he observes quietly, letting his eyes venture over you and huffing in amusement with how untrained you seem in pouring tea but enjoying it nonetheless.

But he wants his hands to adventure you, letting his fingers rest on the back of your knee that just barely peeks out of the skirt while you pour as if asking for permission. You throw a glance at him and a nod, setting the teapot onto the desk, bracing yourself on the wood as his hand quickly travels to your inner thighs. Pulling you closer to him with a firm grip on your thigh only for him to pause when he feels the torn edges of the previous wound he inflicted upon the stockings you are currently wearing.

“You’re wearing the same stockings?” he whispers fervently, dropping the paperwork in his other hand in shock.

“Well-” you wish you could explain that these are the only stockings you have and how a hole in the crotch does not necessarily make them unwearable and you do not feel like trading more things for a pair of tights you never wear except inside the estate. If only you knew what that does to him, cock already hardening in his pants at the memories and feeling of your soft skin underneath his fingers. Instead, he pulls his chair back, pulling you to sit in his lap as you catch a glance of someone from across the room. Your heart almost bursts out of your chest before you realize that someone is just you, a reflection in a mirror set against a display case. He adjusts to let your legs be opened wide by his. It does not matter if you crush him or not. You could crush his lungs, and he would still try to let his last breaths be of you.

He can see how the overfilled cup of tea sloshes over the rim but more importantly, he can see your embarrassed face in the reflection of the mirror. A mirror he has been meaning to move somewhere else but is glad he has let it stay at least this long in his office. Fingers trail over your exposed panties, pushing into your clit. The way you moan his name sounds like melted honey over his heart but your expressions are more sinful than anything he has ever seen. Contorting with a bitten lip while his fingers soak themselves with your juices. The only thing of his that has been inside you is his tongue but now he feels the plush hotness wrap around his digits, crooking up into the softest parts you are unable to reach yourself.

Both of you know someone could come in or be listening so you try to keep yourself quiet but with how he is pulling the most unholy sounds out of your body. Letting his fingers dip deep inside you to curl and watching with a chin on your shoulder how your mouth opens in a panting moan. You can feel his cock sitting heavy against your ass, rocking back to please him even if a fraction of the pleasure he is giving you. He takes a firm hand to your breasts to make you lean back into him, holding you firm almost wishing you two could melt into each other as your cunt swallows at least three of his twisting fingers. He wishes he could see how your wet pussy takes his fingers in the mirror but his desk cuts off the image. Your face is plenty enough for him to enjoy, as well as the smell of your cunt permeating the air around him, causing his hips to rock into your ass steadily. He watches you intently until your eyes meet his in the mirror, feeling your insides clench sporadically and having to bring his thumb into your mouth to muffle your loudness.

Maybe one day your voice can be set fully free for him to enjoy. But for now, he savors how your cunt soaks his fingers and how your tongue wraps readily around his finger. Panting in his lap, you grind backward, meeting his desperate grinds until he is finishing in his underwear once again.

Miche holds no shame in finishing in his pants as long as you are pleased before it. Though the temptation to feel your cunt wrapped around his cock instead of his fingers settles in quickly. You catch your breath while leaning back onto him, letting him press kisses into your neck and up behind your ear, letting your hand comb through his hair. There are wishes floating between the both of you of how you wish you two could stay in each other's arms a little longer. But before duty can call both of you away, there is a hesitant knock upon the door causing both of you to fly away from each other, his hands coming to flip your skirt down over your ass and you giving him a handkerchief to clean his fingers off on before the maid that attends to his father peaks in.

“Young lord, your father...”

And with a sorrowful squeeze on your hips, he leaves to follow her, unable to meet your eyes.

■

If Miche could see the inner workings of his gilded cage, he can also see the lock that keeps him in it — His father, currently teetering on the edges of consciousness and the call of death. A sickness that struck him in his old age and kept him bedridden for at least two years.

It is not that he wants his father to die. He would not wish death upon anybody, he just wishes his father was able to understand his passions or him at all before he leaves this world. But instead, he keeps his infatuations secret otherwise running the risk of being disowned despite being the only son. He wishes he could show his father how beautiful the garden you tend is, how beautiful you are. How he would risk everything to be with you, how if you could just hold your hand in front of his father even he’d be able to see...

How if his father could just wake up. But instead, he sleeps. Peacefully, almost suspiciously so. The maid was right to get him. The doctors say his time is approaching and Miche has to make the decision to keep him alive but unconscious or pass away peacefully.

It takes five days for Miche to decide.

It takes five days to plan the funeral as well.

This is one request you wish you never had to fulfill. Preparing arrangements of lilies for the funeral of the father of the man you love. It is not strange to not speak to each other for days but this is different. This time sorrow pulls him away from the one thing that could ease this pain. But for a moment as you prepare the flowers in the church for the service, he is able to be alone with you once more.

You wish you could see him wearing a black tux in a different context. Instead, his eyes are darkened, looking as if he hasn’t slept in days. Cautiously, you let your eyes wander around the church making sure no one besides you and him are present before running into his arms. Leaning into his warmth as he takes a deep breath, curling into you.

The church is completely silent before you speak, “I’m sorry-”

“Don’t.”

How many times has he heard “I’m sorry for your loss” in the past few days? He is tired of it. Tired of being reminded how he probably is not as sad as he should be for his father’s death. The only person that did not say the usual line was Erwin, who clapped his back and said “some doors close for others to open.”

“I wish I could help,” you let your hands rub across his back as he rocks the both of you.

“You are.”

“The flowers don’t count-”

“Not with the flowers.”

You go silent once again, letting him hold you just to find some respite before pulling away. He needs to be the official lord of the estate now, composed and elegant to greet people and thank them for coming. Calloused thumbs smelling of lilies brush over his cheeks before he is pulled back with the sounds of expensive shoes hitting the wooden floor of the church.

Miche hates the smell of lilies.

■

Five more days until Miche is able to reach out again. A note with fancy script you can barely read delivered to you by a giggling maid saying, “Bring camellia’s to my chambers tonight.”

Camellias are still in season luckily. Heart beating fast as you cut some flora at his request, finally you get to see him once more.

The blanch whites and biting red of the camellias do not exactly make the most beautiful arrangement, but they look sweet, almost childish with each other. As you work on different parts of the garden your foot taps the grass flat out of nervousness and you keep glancing towards the sun as if the evening could come any sooner.

Miche himself is pacing back and forth in his room, glancing at a dusty book that has not been touched in years before adjusting a blanket over a chair.

Just as the sun sets your impatience gets the best of you, gathering your bundle of flowers before trying to sneak into the estate without anybody seeing you on your way to Miche. It would just be more of a hassle to be interrogated by other maids or worse, Nanny. But before you manage to knock on his door it is swung open and you are pulled into a kiss that steals your breath. You are trying to mumble against his lips that someone will see the two of you but he only pulls back for a moment.

“And? I am the lord of the house now. It doesn’t matter.” You suppose it doesn’t.

“I could take you against every wall of this house, they can’t do anything.”

You smack his chest with the flowers as he gives you a playful smile, kissing you loudly in the hallway before pulling you into his room. He sits you on the edge of his bed as he walks to his bookshelf, leaving your eyes to wander. Old fencing swords on display, his family crest messily embroidered into a piece of fabric, some stray chess pieces scattering the countless amount of bookshelves present. There is even a vase filled with a variety of dried flowers that you recognize from the garden you have tended since you were young.

There is a quiver in his step as he retrieves a dusty book from the shelf, nerves making his leg shake as he sits next to you. He’s acting too formal, it makes you stiffen and shift your full attention as he clears his throat.

“Do you remember when we were young, in the garden?” Tilting your head you almost say there were plenty of times when you two were young and in the garden, but the most memorable one was when he was staggering and lanky, walking up to you red as a sunburn and leaving with a flower pressed into his palm.

“That time you asked me what flowers were?”

Miche’s face turns just as red as when he walked up to you as a young boy, still the memory haunts him but more than anything he remembers how hopeless he felt after he held a small flower in his hands, knowing he could never truly pursue you. Until now.

There is a flattened pink disc that still lingers with the sweet scent of camellia. Something close to jasmine that has long seeped into the pages of the book. It contrasts the fresh red and white flowers in your hands so readily, freshly bloomed in the spring sun and picked just for him.

“Yes,” he clears his throat once more, hoping his nerves will clear with it, and sets the dried flower into the palm of yours. Of course, you remember this. A bloom you snipped too short that your mother would have scolded you for if she saw. A bloom you gave to him hoping it would satisfy the want in his eyes.

It was when he realized his gilded cage was too tight. A gilded cage that now has no lock, door swinging open for Miche to finally stretch his wings.

“I am the lord of the house now,” you nod, wondering at what he is getting at, “and I am the last Zacharius,” uhhuh, “and the police won’t stop working with me even if I run the chance of losing my social status...”

The blood in your body rushes to your face so quickly it almost makes you dizzy. He holds your hands, thumbing over the fresh flower petals before kissing your knuckles of the hand that holds the dried flower.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“Unless you don’t want me to say it.”

Tears are gathering in your eyes and you can’t help but smack his broad chest with flowers over and over until he is giggling and fallen flat into the bed beside you. Letting the petals fly across the sheets until you are fully satisfied with the hits you have served. The singular dried pink flower is amongst the carnage of petals, discarded and forgotten in the sheets.

“Can I take that as a yes?”

You swing a leg over his hips, “yes. Always yes.”

He gives you a boyish smile of true excitement before he leans up to trap you in his arms, pulling you into a kiss filled with smiles and giggles.

“Since you are on top of me...” he sets your hips closer to his, letting his slowly growing bulge be known.

“You’ve become less gentlemanly with me, it seems.”

“I will always be a gentleman to you, my love, let’s say I am now more honest, shall we?”

You hum into his lips, letting his hands venture underneath your more casual dress to feel bare skin, ghosting over your ass only to feel no presence of panties.

“If innuendos make me ungentlemanly, what does no panties make you?” he breathes against your lips.

A whisper of “who knows” is the response he receives before you are rolling your hips into him, capturing him in another messy kiss as his hands meld into the fat of your behind, guiding you in your grinds. Intoxicating, every kiss you allow him only pulls him further into the mix of you and flower petals.

It only takes a moment to flip the two of you, letting him push your dress up until you are pulling it off yourself. Miche sits back to watch for a moment, letting his eyes adventure across the body he has never fully seen but craves more than anything before he unbuttons his own shirt. Slowly, almost temptingly so until he reveals himself fully to you. The hunger to see him in his full glory finally satisfied and glory is the most accurate word to describe him. Strength set in his broad shoulders and chest with a bit of pudge settling on his belly decorated with a brunette happy trail leading to the biggest cock you have ever had the pleasure of seeing. Intimidatingly big, accented by heavy balls with cute curls. He lets you stare as he does the same, the last of the setting sun shining through the window to shine on your skin along with some of the petal carnage sticking to your body. It is only when you close your legs after shifting your gaze that he settles on the bed once more, kissing the tops of your knees

“Must you really hide from me?” He has been knuckle and tongue deep inside you, it is long past the time for such shy, albeit adorable, actions.

You bloom into his embrace, letting your legs fall open to frame his own and his eyes settle straight onto your cunt. He gives a sly boyish smile, licks his lips, and before you can close your legs with a squeal of “don’t stare!” he dives down. Once again letting you feel the softness of his tongue on your lower lips and clit, gathering spit onto your clit to let slide between your folds to your hole to help with the next step.

It is a quick kiss to your cunt before he pulls himself up and over your body, rubbing his scruff along your neck before letting the tip of his cock tease your clit. A soft exhale of his name breathed against his hair, and he kisses your jaw, mumbling into your ear, “can I?”

Your nails make residence on his back as you echo your previous words, “always yes.”

Once more he captures your lips, swallowing your gasps as his tip stretches you out slowly. Part of him wishes to see how your pussy blossoms open at the coaxing of his cock but he would much rather experience your first official time together up close. Hearing every moan and hiss he pulls from you and feeling your nails scratch against his back. Resisting the temptation to cum immediately when he feels the softness of your cunt wrapping around him.

But he pauses when you whisper a small ow, not pushing any further until you say and peppering kisses onto your eyelids as you sigh in pleasure. Now you know for sure he is definitely big enough to hurt, “damnit.”

“Sorry love, almost halfway I promise.”

Half? Halfway? “Almost halfway?”

His chuckle reverberates through you, embarrassed with how you are implying how even half of his cock is hard to take. He pushes another kiss onto your lips, rolling his hips in and outwards only a tad to soak more of your juices on his cock. Inch by inch he sinks into you, pulling back whenever he feels your face grimace to coat his cock with more of your self-produced lube, thankful you are aroused enough to even produce any. Until he is fully seated within you, even him not moving makes you breathless.

Hands press into your cheeks making your eyes open to look into his. A beautiful green no plant could ever wish to achieve. He whispers against your lips once more, asking for a sign to make sure you are ready and quickly you answer back yes. Locking your legs behind his thighs to roll back into his, the stretch is stinging at first but the more thrusts he sends into you the less of a problem it becomes. Eyes rolling back into your head and mouth open to let moans fly free, the pleasure is nothing compared to his fingers or his tongue. His member hits the softest parts inside of your walls, pulling an orgasm out of you before you even realize it. He holds you as you spasm around him, letting your nails dig into his back and resisting the urge to cum with you.

Patiently, he waits until you are trying to catch your breath to pull out, tugging his cock covered in your juices to spill his cum onto your belly. Later, he will think about the possibility of having children. For now, he wants to enjoy every moment with you, just you.

More kisses are pressed into your face that you gladly return, letting him rest above you in a comfortable cage. However, the night is just beginning — why waste the dark embrace of the stars with sleep?

■

Late in the morning, there is a knock on Miche’s door which tears his warmth away from you. Throwing a robe on before peeking the door open to see Nanny standing there with a smile on her age-worn face. His heart drops to his toes, knowing that your endeavors will now be shared with every single servant in the house if they did not happen to hear them last night.

“Should we bring you two breakfast — no, lunch — in bed?”

There is a blush settled in his cheeks because essentially he is being teased by the woman who raised him but he only mutters out a yes please, before making his way back to the bed to curl around you once more. A warm hand placed over your puffy and abused mound to ease at least some of the sourness settling in. But at least finally you two get to bask in the heat of each other in the comfort of his own bed, even if there are still flower petals sticking to both of your bodies.

■

“You didn’t have to do this.”

“But I did,” Erwin adjusts his tie in the mirror, one set against a display case in Miches office. As much as Miche objected at first, it was easy for Erwin to become an Officiant and Miche will forever be grateful for why.

A pretty silver band set with precious stones is twisted around between Miches fingers. Erwin speaks up once again, “Nervous?”

“No,” he huffs out of his nose, “excited.”

■

Never once in your life have you imagined maids fretting over you like a highborn lady. Adjusting your dress and hair until you have to shoo them away otherwise you would go mad. You aren’t exactly sure how fancy ladies stand so many hands on them. It is not a huge voluptuous dress either, you did not want one. The maid dresses were even too fancy for your taste, becoming all too accustomed to overalls caked with soil or casual dresses with branch-tugged tears. It hurts knowing nobody but his friends will be here, neither of your parents being alive to see how happy the two of you are but you know your mother would scold you with tears in her eyes and kiss your forehead to know how proud she is of you. You are not sure what your father would have done but if he loved you as much as your mother claimed, you hope he loves the happiness you are experiencing as well.

Levi is waiting at the door for your arm. After becoming close to him throughout a year of officially being Miche’s partner, you two have grown close, bonding over being born in lower status’ than your lovers and teasing the both of them when they show particularly pompous attitudes. And whenever Hanji would flirt, instead of being met with heat down your neck like it was at first, you throw playful quips back until they are keeling over, laughing their heart out.

Levi is silent, but he tucks a red camellia behind your ear with a hand lingering on your cheek. You are lucky he even decided to show affection but you know everything he does comes from a pure place in his heart.

The ceremony is informal, only you and his friends beside another maid and Nanny that has been keen on getting you and Miche together present. Erwin is there to officiate and Levi steps on his foot to cut a soon-to-be long speech short so you two can shut up and kiss already, in Levi’s words.

If only Erwin, Levi, Hanji, Nile and his wife knew what that garden has seen in the early hours of the morning when both you and Miche were struck with the idea of fulfilling a fantasy. Then surely they would not be stepping around the base of the grapefruit tree so casually. The maids already know — quick as fire, remember?

Miche Zacharius has seen the inner workings of his own gilded cage since he was young. But now, finally after all these years, he can experience the life he has always wished for, filled with freedom and passion blowing under his stretched wings.

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𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔨 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤, 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔤, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔯𝔢𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔤𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔤 !! ʕ◔ᴥ◔ʔっ♥

Did you enjoy? remember any and all feedback and thoughts are appreciated and enjoyed. I’m sending you love and well wishes.

//: 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

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iwaslut · 3 years

Text

— 𝖌𝖑𝖚𝖙𝖙𝖔𝖓𝖔𝖚𝖘

this is my piece for @karasunosimp’s “it’s raining milk” collab!! this is my first time ever participating in a collab, so thank you for letting me join <3

milf!sasha braus

fem!reader, nsfw content, large age gap, wlw, oral sex.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ♡ 18+ CONTENT

Your job as a babysitter had quite a few perks.

One: The pay is good. You were rather reluctant to resort to babysitting as a part-time job but, desperate times call for desperate measures, especially when you’re trying to earn some form of income while putting yourself through your last year of University. So you were pleasantly surprised when you had been offered more than you normally would be compensated when babysitting.

Two: The kid you babysit, Kaya, is an absolute angel. Due to her rather withdrawn nature, Kaya typically keeps herself busy by quietly reading in her room or watching the television in the living room. As time has passed and Kaya’s slowly become accustomed to your presence, she no longer seems as apprehensive to interact with you as she once was. It’s obvious to you that she’s a good kid. Although she’d rather keep to herself, she’s always polite when you converse and sometimes she’ll even ask if you want to join her and watch a show together. She has pretty good taste in shows, you think as you watch “The Winx Club” together.

Three: Miss Braus is one of the hottest fucking women you’ve seen in your life. She looks fucking incredible for a woman her age and you were honestly shocked to learn that she’s as old as she is. Whenever you interact with the woman, you have to physically restrain yourself from allowing your eyes to lower; her shirts are always exceptionally tight, clinging like a second-skin to her tits. It’s only when she turns around to leave through the front door that you let yourself check out the older woman. She has a damn nice ass.

“Hello, Miss Braus.” With your tote bag resting on your shoulder, you step inside of the home as the brunette warmly ushers you in.

“Miss Braus makes me feel old. How many times do I have to tell you that Sasha will do just fine, sweetheart?” She complains, playfully scolding you as you slip off your sneakers by the entrance of the door. Her hands are firmly placed on the curve of her hips when you lift your head to offer her a sheepish grin.

“Sorry, Mi—Sorry, Sasha. Force of habit, I guess.” You bring up one hand to rub at the back of your neck, brows lightly pinching together when you survey the space to see Kaya nowhere in sight. “Eh, pardon me, Sasha, but where’s Kaya at?”

Although you’re well aware of how reserved her daughter is, you’ve come to expect Kaya to be curled up on the couch reading a novel whenever you come over to babysit her. You guys have fallen into the habit where you’ll cook her lunch as soon as you arrive while she reads nearby so it’s rather unusual that the blonde girl is nowhere to be seen.

“She’s at her father’s house for the day.” For a brief moment, the brunette’s expression pinches up: distaste for the blond man made evident on her face. You don’t know too much about Sasha’s ex-husband, just that he’s some renowned chef that frequently travels a lot. Niccolo is his name if you recall correctly. It’s not your place to pry so you choose to not ask any questions regarding the matter and listen when Sasha slips little tidbits of information regarding her ex-husband.

Wait. What?

“Kaya’s not here?” If Kaya’s not here then why were you still scheduled to babysit today?

You’re drawn out of your train of thought when Sasha places a gentle hand on your shoulder. You startle at the little amount of space in between the two of you.

“Nope!” She cheerfully exclaims as she slips your bag off of your shoulders. You’re left in a stupor, wondering what the fuck is going on, but you shake it off and follow Sasha, who has turned around and is now making her way in the direction of the kitchen.

“I thought we could chat today!” Her back is turned towards you as you take a seat at one of the bar stools at the kitchen counter. She floats around the kitchen, grabbing items from the fridge and cabinets. Your eyes glue themselves to the thin sliver of skin that appears when Sasha’s shirt rides up as she reaches for something in one of the upper cabinets.

“O-oh, okay.” This turn of events is rather strange, but you’re not complaining. Sasha’s a really wonderful conversationalist: the conversation flows naturally between you two and you’re always left in stitches at the jokes she cracks. Also, you get the opportunity to openly ogle her with her back facing you as she cooks something on the stove. You’re not going to pass up on an opportunity like this.

“I’m making us some lunch, but it’s going to take some time to cook.” You’re knocked out of your reverie once again and quickly avert your gaze from Sasha’s ass to meet her eyes. You desperately hope you were fast enough that she didn’t catch you. Her expression doesn’t give anything away so you think you’re good.

“Sounds good to me! Thank you so much for making lunch.” Your mouth waters at the thought of eating Sasha’s cooking. Although you’ve never tried it, Kaya’s always boasted about how her parents are both great cooks. You’re looking forward to trying her food since Kaya speaks so highly of it.

“Of course, honey! It’s no issue especially for such a sweet girl.” Your thighs automatically squeeze together. You mentally thank a higher being that the counter hides your lower half because that would be painfully embarrassing for you if your employer saw how turned on they made you by uttering only two words.

You watch as Sasha floats around the kitchen, grabbing some more ingredients from the fridge and different cabinets before tossing them all together on the stove to simmer. You fidget in your seat, never one who was good at sitting still with nothing to occupy your attention. You feel that it would be rude for you to pull out your phone and scroll through social media in Sasha’s presence.

“There we go! Now we just have to let this simmer for a while,” she exclaims, turning around to face you and clapping her hands together. A pretty smile graces her face and her features light up when you return it with a grin of your own.

“Since it's going to take some time, how about we get comfy?”

Sasha pats the seat next to her on the couch, prompting you to slip out of the stool you’re sitting on to join her. You make sure to maintain a respectable distance that Sasha effectively destroys when she scoots closer to you until your knees are brushing against one another’s. The lack of space between you two makes you more nervous than you’d like to admit, but you don’t move from your spot.

The air is stolen straight out of your lungs when Sasha places a delicate hand on your knee.

“You know, you’re not really discreet when you’re checking me out, honey,” Sasha notes.

“Huh—what?” It takes your brain a moment to process what Sasha’s said, especially as her hand steadily inches up your thigh. Once you realize what she’s said, embarrassment crashes over you in a cold wave.

“Oh my god, I am so so so sorry Miss Braus. Please forgive—.”

Your words die out when Sasha places the hand that’s not on your thigh on your cheek, forcing you to look her way.

“You talk too much, sweetheart,” Sasha affectionately chides before she presses her lips to yours, effectively shutting you up in the process. You’re frozen still for a moment. Is this actually fucking happening? When you feel Sasha move her lips against yours, you realize that yes, this is, in fact, fucking happening.

Any of your prior hesitations is thrown out the window when you feel Sasha’s hands slip underneath the hem of your t-shirt. Your tongue traces the seam of her lips before Sasha parts them, letting you in. Your hands rest on her hips, urging and guiding her to seat herself on top of your lap.

You smile against her lips as a startled gasp leaves them when you firmly squeeze her ass.

“Too much clothing,” she rasps out while pulling her shirt over her head. You’re quick to follow suit and tug your own t-shirt off just in time to watch Sasha unclasp her bra. Her breasts spill out from underneath the constraining fabric and jiggle before settling against her chest.

As much as you want to lean forward and lather her tits in attention, you’re eager to switch the position you’re currently in. Sasha’s back hits the couch’s cushions with a quiet thump as your frame leers above her.

Her eyes widen in brief surprise at the action, but Sasha’s not granted much time to think when you swoop down to kiss her again. It’s sloppier this time around. You have no clue when, or if, you’ll ever get this chance again and you’re determined to make the most of it. You want to ingrain the taste of Sasha into your brain.

Her hands tangle together behind your neck when you begin your descent down her body. You lick the bead of sweat trailing down the column of her neck and gently nip at the skin there. Not hard enough to make any marks, but just hard enough to elicit a gasp from Sasha.

“Fuck. Just like that.”

She throws her head back when you swirl your tongue around the hardened bud of her nipple while your fingers roll her other one. You lavish her tits in attention, sucking and nipping at them until blood rushes to the surface of her skin. When you lean back, you mentally pat yourself on the back. Her tits are a mess, covered in hickies of varying sizes.

You pepper kisses to her stomach, relishing in how soft and plush her skin is, before tossing her legs over your shoulders.

“You look so good like this, Sasha. So pretty and desperate for me to eat you out,” you coo. You hook your arms underneath her thighs, grabbing fistfuls of the fat of her ass until she’s positioned in a way you like.

“Hurry up and put your mouth on me already.” She tightens her thighs around your head and digs her heels into your back, urging you to get on with it already. If this was any other situation, you’d draw it out a little longer until Sasha was on the verge of tears and begging you to eat her out, but you’re feeling impatient. You can’t lie and say you’re not eager to have a taste of her.

Before Sasha can complain at how long you’re taking, you dive in. A startled moan tears its way out of her throat when you lick a long, deep stripe along her dripping slit. You lap at her cunt like a woman starved, devouring her whole. You circle her clit with your tongue before latching onto it.

“Shit. I’m so close. You’re doing s’good.”

Her back arches off of the sofa as her hands bury themselves into your hair. She digs the blunt edges of her nails into your scalp and the slight splintering pain has you moaning into her cunt.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum. Shit! I’m cumming.”

She sharply digs her heels into the muscle of your upper back and she cums with a loud cry. You hold her in place as she convulses, bucking her hips wildly as she rides out her orgasm. You gently suckle on her clit and run your tongue through her folds until she’s whimpering.

The incessant beeping of the timer that Sasha had previously set startles the two of you. From in between her thighs, you stare up at her with a crooked grin. A mixture of her juices and cum coats your lips and chin. Her eyes dart to the pink of your tongue when you lick your lips clean. You use the back of your hand to wipe your chin, which only serves to smear the liquid more.

“Thanks for the dessert, Sasha. I’m looking forward to tasting your cooking now.”

#attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #attack on titan smut #aot smut #sasha braus x reader #sasha blouse x reader #sasha braus smut #sasha blouse smut #celeste.scribs #drip #tw fem reader #tw age gap #tw milfs #tw wlw #drip.aot

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physicalturian · 3 years

Text

[18+] Words of pleasure - Law x F!Reader - Part 1

Summary : Being overwhelmed with work is exhausting. To release some of that stress, you make your way on a website to talk to strangers. One of them strike your interest and while the conversation flows you find yourself being dommed online. An unusual occurrence you might get a liking to. The thrill of letting someone take the control when too much weight is on your shoulders, no strings attached. Unless...

[No spoilers] [Modern AU - College AU] [She/her pronouns used for the reader, no physical description; Everyone +18] Words : 5034 Archive of our own

Warning : Consensual BDSM / Masturbation / Power play / Dom/sub Dynamics / Cybersex / Stranger / Vaginal fingering... If you feel like I should add more warnings, send me a dm or and ask

. . . . .

Boredom makes you do crazy things. Lack of free time too, mix them together and you end up stumbling on a website, talking to strangers from all across the world.

With my work done, it was already pretty late, but I deserved some distraction for working so hard. I did not really care how late it was, I wanted to relax and have some fun, no matter the kind of fun.

Arriving on the home page, I stared at it “Clean chat or NSFW chat? Well…” I mumbled to myself, clicking on the NSFW tab, I had to find a name now. It had to be explicit enough so that the person would know what I want right? Yeah, but what do I want? Huffing, I typed down “Entertain me” Before entering and getting matched with a random person.

They did not stay long, and their names were surprising to say the least. It took me a lot of time to match with someone that did not have a weird name, and did not leave the minute they got matched with me. I almost gave up too. Now, I was not one to kink shame, but neither was I into anthro dogs and role playing as people’s daughter.

But funny enough, when they had a slightly normal name. They’d be the most boring person ever, I had to laugh every time people who had “dom” in their name, were the least charismatic people I’d ever met. I had to give it a thought and wonder, were they dom or did they just top their whole life?

Huffing, I pressed the escape key on my keyboard once more to refresh the conversation and leaned back on my pillows. “At this point, I should just go to sleep.” I pondered out loud, my eyes riveted on the loading screen. I had probably skipped everybody on this website, and now they couldn’t give me anything. When I was about to leave, I was matched with someone named “A real doctor”.

I couldn’t help the chuckled that escaped my lips as I leaned forward and wrote down.

Entertain me: Now, are you really a doctor? Or do you want to get people to be horny over you?

Entertain me: ah, wait, also, how old are you? I’m 23, she/her.

A real doctor: There is no reason for me to lie, I don’t even need to tell them I’m a doctor to have them horny. People are always horny on this website.

A real doctor: 29, he/him. How long have you been looking to be entertained?

Laughing I shook my head, I was surprised to meet someone who was 29 when most people I’d met until now were 18 or 19. I skipped them too. But I was definitely relieved, and it showed in my reply.

Entertain me: thank god you’re 29, I was afraid I was going to catch a case! So many young people here, it’s frightening.

A real doctor: Are you telling me I’m old?

Entertain me: no no no, definitely not, no you’re the perfect age don’t worry. But since you’re asking so kindly, I’ve been here for about two hours and I have not had a single one good conversation.

A real doctor: Good, then I’m here to change that. What kind of entertainment are you looking for?

I stared at my screen for a second, for some reason I was starting to feel excited. His question was a good one, and valid one too, and now I had to give him an adequate answer. Running my hands over my face, I was going to type back when he sent something.

A real doctor: I guess, since we’re both on the NSFW chat the question is: what are your kinks? Your limits, perhaps?

I don’t know why I answered so quickly, but my fingers did the talking.

Entertain me: Hey maybe I should ask you that, maybe I want to dom you. How about that? You’d be surprised with how versatile I am.

A real doctor: You’re cute, but I don’t recall mentioning domming. Quite the lapsus you did there, I want to play a game with you but to do so you’ll have to tell me your kinks and your limits, dear.

Why did I blush? A stranger called me dear, and I was feeling funny inside. For the first time tonight, someone was taking the reins and I kind of enjoyed it a lot. With my hands shaking slightly in excitment, I typed,

Entertain me: I suppose you make a fair point…

A real doctor: Of course, I do, now do tell me.

Entertain me: right away, sir.

I said half-jokingly, but that did not go through with the text. If anything, it fueled a certain fire, and perhaps I’ll admit I was testing the waters.

A real doctor: Already catching on I see, good girl.

Why was that so hot? My breath hitched and I simply looked at those words a few seconds, taking them in. Sighing, I leaned towards the left and open the drawer of my bed table, grabbing my toy. What am I doing… I thought. Putting the vibrator next to me, I took my time to reply.

Entertain me: first of all, that’s kind of hot and you are definitely entertaining me.

A real doctor: I barely started, good to know you’re already hooked.

Entertain me: oh fuck off, it’s just the charisma. You got the pzazz, that’s all.

A real doctor: Check the attitude, and give me an answer.

Gulping, I typed back, weighing my words this time.

Entertain me: Well, avoid degradation because that’s not my cup of tea but… I suppose, while some of those might be hard through a screen… Body worship is cool, very cool… The entire idea of BDSM is lovely, I like praising, spanking, public stuff has some appeal and…

I didn’t write the last one, feeling like it was too much. Should I say that? It sounds to fucking submissive. Which is my role right now, clearly, so I should just go for it. Sighing, I read his message and groaned, writing back.

A real doctor: Go ahead. And? I want clear answers and you’re not done yet.

Entertain me: I like to please my partner, is that a kink?

A real doctor: A service sub? How cute. I’ll definitely make good use of that. Any limits?

Entertain me: I’m never showing my face, but pics are okay. I mean, if you’d like some of course. Consent and all that. I’m willing to try other stuff if we take things slow, too!

Oh god, that sounded desperate. I don’t even know what he looks like and I’m telling him all of my deepest tastes. “Well, that’s the idea, right? I’ll never meet him, but I can have some fun, right? It’s all about having some fun, both of us. We both get off, and then never talk again.” I whispered to myself, looking up at the time. Noticing it was already 2 am, I was going to leave but I couldn’t find the strength to do so and waited for the man’s reply.

A real doctor: Very well, I love the eagerness. I’ll be taking notes of those, now you’re curious about the game, aren’t you?

Entertain me: Don’t flatter yourself, if it’s some weird shit I’ll just leave. It really all depends on what’s your game. And please, don’t tell me it’s truth or dare.

A real doctor: Give me some credits, I’m not a teenage boy.

A real doctor: You’ll like it.

A real doctor: The game is this, I tell you what to do, and you do it.

Entertain me: okay…

A real doctor: Interested?

Entertain me: I’ll need more details, but I haven’t left, have I?

A real doctor: You haven’t indeed. Good girl, see you want to be ordered around. It’ll be my pleasure.

A real doctor: Your hands off your keyboard, I’ll be guiding you. All you’ll have to do, is read me. Is that alright?

I took in his words for a moment. Was I really going to let him tell me what to do? My own voice resonated in my head, telling him that was the fun of it, it was hot. It was exciting, and different, nothing bad could happen.

Entertain me: Would it be interesting to tell you I have a vibrator next to me right now, sir?

I facepalmed behind my screen, maybe that wasn’t his shit. Maybe he just wanted me to finger myself or something, maybe I fucked it all up and now I was going to go to bed horny and sad. My self-depreciation dissipated when I saw his reply.

A real doctor: It’s interesting, speeds?

Entertain me: Five, sir.

A real doctor: Hands off the keyboard, lay on your back, let’s start.

And I did. With the laptop right next to me, I laid on back and waited for his words, following each of his instruction. Each in a separate message, fired like bullets.

If you’re dressed, I want you to get completely naked. Undress slowly. Feel yourself. Your hands caressing each of your curves. Brushing over your breasts. Stop there. Pinch your nipples, hard and tug. Feel the sting. The warmth that follows. Spread your legs wide. Let one hand travel between them. Slowly start playing with yourself. Your fingers slowly spreading your folds. Rubbing yourself for me. You’re enjoying this, you like being ordered around. You want to be played with, you’re doing exactly as I’m telling you, like a good girl.

I arched my back, a hand still on my breast while brushing my finger against my clit. I was burning up, my head digging inside the pillow, it felt strange. He was not wrong, and I could feel my arousing growing and growing.

A real doctor: Want to continue? Are we still good, dear?

Groaning I turned on the side and wrote with one hand.

Entertain me: yes, sir.

A real doctor: Good. Back on your back, take your toy.

Grabbing it, I waited for the next instruction, my hand having left my clit. It was pulsing, I never thought this would have so much effect but I was starting to get angsty.

Brush it between your folds. Slowly. Get it wet for me. Good, like that. Keep at it a while. Your free hand, I want it caressing your body. Feel every sensation. Feel every touch, every brush.

I let out a huff and wrote him, while still brushing the tip of my toy between my folds. I was starting to breathe heavily, feeling needy.

Entertain me: it’s cold here, goosebumps.

A real doctor: Imagine my warm hands traveling your body.

Entertain me: fuck, can I fuck myself? Please sir

A real doctor: Already? No, no. Not just yet, let’s take our time.

Groaning, I let my head hit the pillow and considered turning on the vibrator but thought against it. He had not told me to yet, I should wait, make it more fun. But fuck, I needed it.

Let’s start slowly. You asked nicely, like a good girl. And since you’ve been listening until now… Put it in, speed one. But don’t fuck yourself. Leave it there. Legs spread wide. Now that your hands are free, bring them back to your chest. Give yourself firm, hard, gropes. Feel the vibrations inside you. Slide your hands down your torso, to your belly and gently brush your hands on your inner thighs. Feel the texture, your cold fingers on your burning skin. I want you to rub your clit, take a deep breath and start playing with it. Feel the electricity coursing.

See yourself, enjoying the idea of being commanded. Look at yourself, look down at your hands. See yourself masturbating for me. Feel your toy stretching you, filling you up. Now start pumping in and out. But not too hard. That’s it, good girl. Slowly, very slowly. It’s painfully slow, isn’t it? Keep doing good, and we’ll speed things up.

I whined and brought a hand to my mouth, muffling the noises escaping it. My roommates were probably sleeping, I had to keep it quiet. I hate how slow paced it was, but I loved how thrilling it was to do this. I bucked my hips to try to meet the toy as I pulled it out to pull it back in, slowly.

Look at you. Shoving a dildo inside you. Just because I told you so. I blushed and let out a whimper. You’re actually enjoying yourself. You are being entertained, just as you asked. I can almost see the smile on your face. Tell me, is my good girl desperate yet?

Bringing my hands to my hair, I got the wild strands of hair out of my face and wrote back. My face was on fire, but no one would know. What happened here was between this stranger and I, no one would know how I was being guided to fuck myself by a total stranger.

Entertain me: sir… can I up the speed?

A real doctor: Very cute, you haven’t answered, dear.

Entertain me: please…

Entertain me: sir.

A real doctor: Alright, dear. You can put it at 2.

A real doctor: But you stop the thrusting, I want you to keep it deep inside you. Close your legs and feel the vibrations, when you think you’re close, you stop. Understood?

Entertain me: yes sir!!

A real doctor: How eager, lovely. Hands off now.

Huffing, I did as he asked and upped the speed. A giggle escaped my lips before my breath caught in my throat and I could feel everything strongly, with how deep it was. I closed my eyes for a moment, missing some of the messages but opened them again, and read everything while feeling the sensations inside me.

Angle it right. That’s right. Turn the speed one notch now. It should be at three, if you’ve been following right. See your face, you’re enjoying this. How cute, I can only imagine the sinful sounds leaving that pretty mouth of yours. It can probably do a lot more than moan. It can whimper. As it’s being fucked. As you’re being fucked. Bring your fingers inside your mouth and suck on it. That’s it, suck it. Push the toy deeper inside you. You can speed up the pace. Not too wild.

“Fuck” I breathed out, my fingers hooked in my mouth as I met each of thrusts. I wanted to go faster, I wanted to do as I pleased and find a quick relief. I knew myself; I knew what to do but there was this thrill in giving the control to this stranger. My walls were clenched around the toy, I could feel it against my walls even more at each thrust. I desperately grabbed my blanket, almost making my laptop tumble off my bed and muffled my voice while biting down the fabric.

I was surprised when a whine came out of my mouth, I put my hand over my muffled mouth to, hopefully, muffle it better.

A real doctor: You’ve been good. Such a good girl, haven’t you?

I sighed and leaned on my side, typing very slowly. My thrusts, slowing down as my focus was on the conversation.

Entertain me: Yes sir, I’m so good

A real doctor: Good. Then I want you to grab the base of your toy and…

A real doctor: Fuck your brains out, go wild. While you’re at it, speed at 4.

My arms were screaming for me to stop, it had been so long. But I felt the knot in my stomach grow in excitement and did exactly as he had asked. The pleasure was so good, it was so good. I had been waiting for this since we had started. One hand was gripping the base of the vibrator tight, while the other was rubbing my clit. My eyes rolled back a few times when it touched the right spot, but then I had to thrust more and lost it. I hated it but at the same time, I loved the mix of pain and pleasure of the fast and deep thrusts.

Here we go. Hard, and fast. I want you to go wild. Let yourself go. Fuck your hole good. Groan, squirm, moan, plead for more. I’m sure you’re sore, but you’re doing so great. Such a good girl, doing exactly as you’re told. Keep going, don’t stop. Feel your toy stretching you out. You’re so wet, you can probably hear it, right? God, such a good girl. Spread your legs wide and keep going, good. Good. Now, read well, dear.

I want you to go to the last speed, and keep your toy deep like last time. Don’t move it. Cross your legs and keep it there. I’ll count to 20, you’ll keep it there until I’m done. Are we good? Don’t answer, just follow my instruction. Come on, last speed. And here we go. That’s it dear. Good. Let’s start.

Then he started sending a message for each number starting from 1. I watched the screen with half-lidded eyes, feeling the toy vibrating inside me, my hand starting to go numb from the said vibrations. My thighs were a bit sore, but I ignored it and moved the toy slightly to angle it only to find the right spot, I closed my eyes and focused on the sensation, only peeking to see the count was at 13. Fuck, fuck, fuck. My thighs were closed around my hand so hard, it hurt a bit but I was getting close.

That’s it, what a view. Fucked out, exhausted. But you’re not done yet. Pick up the pace now, thrust and shove, hold it there. And again. And again. Hit that sweet spot. That’s it. Good girl, so obedient. Feel the soreness between your legs. Feel your clit throbbing. Feel yourself getting closer. Just from being told what to do? Pay attention to the throbbing. Fuck yourself hard a minute again. Then keep it there. That’s it, yes. I’m sure you must be quite the sight. I want you to be noisy. To be loud. Get wild. Buck your hips against the toy. That’s it. So obedient.

My legs tensed the moment the knot inside my stomach reached its peak. I let out a high-pitched breath inside the blanket and let my head fall back on the pillow. I hadn’t realized I had contracted my whole body, and let out a chuckle at the realization. Slowly, I turned back to the screen, moving my tired arms to type back.

Entertain me: I am good, exhausted, and I came, sir.

I laid back on the pillow with another sigh. What time is it? How long did this take? I should probably get up and get cleaned but I’m too lazy right now.

A real doctor: Good.

I saw him type but typed my question faster.

Entertain me: But it’s weird, you didn’t get to get off. Do you need anything? I could send you pictures if you want, I feel kind of bad that you just… helped me out and I did not do anything.

A real doctor: Oh, you did plenty. I get off on knowing you did as I instructed. And you did, didn’t you?

Entertain me: Yes, of course. Yeah, it was hot… And I enjoyed it, yes.

A real doctor: Is that so? Anything else you’d like to share? I’ve never had such obedient girl. You are very interesting.

Entertain me: Come on, it’s just in this setting that I’m like that. I’m very feisty in real life, I was just wondering what it’d feel like to let go of the control for once, I guess.

Entertain me: But if you need more feedbacks… I hated/loved how long you took to up the speed, and I am genuinely physically drained haha. But in a good way! A very good way.

A real doctor: Let’s talk more once you’ve hydrated. Get some water, and if you can, get cleaned up. I’ll be right here, alright?

Entertain me: right, right. Brb.

Moving the laptop on my pillow while I sat up, I wrapped my toy with the towel that I had set under myself. When my feet met the ground and I balanced myself, I felt my legs wobbling a bit then made my way to the bathroom silently. I turned on the sink and let the water flow until it was warm and cleaned my toy before cleaning myself and getting changed.

I made a detour by the kitchen to grab a bottle of water and a sandwich before going back to my bed and sitting down, tailor-style, with my laptop in front of me. There were a few new messages from the doctor, so I put down my food and was ready to reply.

A real doctor: If you’re willing, I would like to see a picture of your body to check if you’re good.

A real doctor: Now this website does not allow it, but if you have any media in mind, I’m all ears.

Entertain me: Yeah, sure, yep. I don’t have any bruises or anything, but if you’re that worried yeah! Maybe Discord? You’re a doctor, I feel like you don’t have discord.

A real doctor: I don’t know if you’re bratty, or if you are being an idiot on purpose.

Entertain me: omg none? I was voicing my train of thought!

A real doctor: Right. HandSurgeon#4766

Entertain me: Funny name, don’t judge mine. It’s my personal discord, so no sexy pic just, well you’ll see.

Going to the friend list, I pasted the username in the search bar and added him. I was added back very fast and bided him good night on the website once I was sure it was him on discord. I made sure to save the conversation, just in case… Maybe for later use, if I felt bored.

HandSurgeon: I don’t even know what’s your profile picture, but I’m not going to mention it again.

Edelweiss: It’s a tardigrade, come on. It’s fun, a bit, right?

Edelweiss: Anyway, let me take that nude for you sir 😉

HandSurgeon: Don’t call it that, it’s to check if you didn’t go too crazy.

Edelweiss: That’s what they say, then they ask for more

I had to strip down naked once more to take the picture before getting dressed back up, it was getting late but I was still buzzing with energy. I probably won’t talk about this with my roommates, but if they asked why I was up so late I’d have to find an excuse. Telling them I was working would probably work, but then I’d get yelled at for not taking care of myself and having the worse sleep schedule.

Edelweiss: [sent an attachment]

Edelweiss: Here we go. Sorry if I’m not your type, maybe we should have talked about that first. Now I’m self-conscious, but it’s too late haha…

HandSurgeon: You look gorgeous, don’t go thinking you’re not my type. You are very, very hot. I can see you have food next to you, that’s good. You are taking care, good girl.

HandSurgeon: I can also see from your clock that we’re on the same time zone.

HandSurgeon: Which is good and bad, it’s already 3 am and you are not asleep. Why is that?

Edelweiss: living the student life, only the best life. I was working on some project for my master degree, and I thought: hey I’m horny, let’s go on that funny website.

Edelweiss: And here we are.

Edelweiss: Why are you awake? Shouldn’t you be… getting some sleep to be saving lives in the morning or something?

HandSurgeon: I had just finished a 10 hours surgery, I needed something to distract my mind while working on some paperwork. You did very well in being distracting.

It felt a lot more real when I read his message. It was now sinking in that he was really a doctor, not any kind, a surgeon. I was not going to ask more details, the less I knew the better. But it was slightly intimidating and at the same time interesting to know he was the real deal. My pride was swelling when I read I was able to distract him from his work, he had done his fair share of helping me out too.

Edelweiss: I am sorry? Is it… important paperwork? I could let you be, if you want. We could talk another time, when you’re free? My sleeping schedule is fucked up, I don’t know about yours but I am going to be online many late nights haha.

Edelweiss: if you want to, of course. Maybe you don’t want to hear from me again. Actually, I thought I’d be the one to leave the website and not come back, but I kind of enjoyed our session… I wouldn’t mind doing this a bit more if we’re both in the mood of course.

HandSurgeon: You’re so nervous. Don’t be, I’m not going to let you go. What kind of dom would I be if I let such an obedient girl go? Go to sleep, we’ll talk later Edelweiss. Any reason for that name?

Edelweiss: god I didn’t want you to ask, it’s just. It’s a cool flower, it means strength and toughness you know? I’m a tough woman, I deal with shit. I can handle shit, you know?

I read my message many times, thinking maybe I should have found something funny but thought not. It was just bonding, we were discussing, getting to know one another. It wasn’t half bad. I turned off my computer, and moved to Discord on my phone, to keep talking. When I looked at his picture, it was just a white bear, it looked cute. Funny how he had such a cute picture and he was domming someone on the side, two sides of the same coin I suppose. Come to think of it, maybe he could be an old man, maybe he wasn’t who he said he was…

HandSurgeon: Interesting, I like it. It’s better than calling you ‘Entertain me’. Not very creative, if you ask me.

Edelweiss: Oh right, because ‘A real doctor’ is better? Maybe you’re not even a doctor. Maybe you’re catfishing me. And I sent you a nude. Oh my god…

HandSurgeon: I am not catfishing you, I can send you a picture. What do you need on it?

Edelweiss: Uh, I don’t know? Write down my name on a paper, and hold it against your chest, then take the picture? With the date! Yeah.

There wasn’t any reply for a moment, I was starting to panic. Then I received the picture and gasped loudly. Surrounded by the darkness of the room, it was all that could drown my shock. I had to take a double take as I wrote back.

HandSurgeon: [sent an attachment]

Edelweiss: I mean, … Thank you for... it’s uh. Very. You’re not catfishing me. Nope. I understand why HandSurgeon now, you uh. Yep. Nice gloved hands, very slender. Most people would have held a huge piece of paper between their index finger and their thumb.

Edelweiss: but you opted for middle finger and index. And a smaller paper. Almost as if you were posing really. I do not mind. It’s uh. Enjoyable. Not an old man, no. And the scrubs and all, love it.

HandSurgeon: The scrubs, yes. You believe me, good. You can rest easy now, go to sleep Edelweiss. You probably have work to do tomorrow, and so do I.

HandSurgeon: Sleep well.

Edelweiss: Sweet dreams doc!

I stared at the screen a bit longer before leaving the app and turning my phone face down on my night stand. What a night. I was so tired, and yet buzzing with excitement. It was strange, it was a strange dynamic but I wanted to discover more. I wanted to know more about this world. What else could this man offer me?

Closing my eyes, I thought, maybe I could buy a connected sex toy? Sure, they were for couples, but they could definitely be used for other people. It could be fitting if I wanted to give him the control…

My hands met my face full force and I groaned, I had met this man at best 4 hours ago and I was already desperate to have another session. I was already desperate to let him have the control.

But it felt nice, so nice to not be in control for once. Yes, I had to hold the toy and read, but he was the one guiding me, it was elating! God, what am I doing? No, it’s alright. I’m an adult, he’s an adult. We’re both consenting adults, having fun. Nothing bad there.

I’m a sore adult though. Maybe I’d need a few days before letting him have his fun. My eyes closed; I was thinking back on how his undershirt was hugging his form. Was it legal to look like that? I mean, I did not know what he looked like, but the little I saw was enough to make someone dream. His long-sleeved grey shirt was showing off his muscles and it definitely made me weak.

I scoffed into my pillow, a surgeon. I wonder what else his hands could do. Fortunately, I’ll never meet him in real life, if I met the man I did not know if I’d want to jump him or run away from how intimidating his entire being was.

It only took me a lot of stupid questions and day dreaming, for my brain to finally shut down and let me sleep. I went to sleep a lot easier than I usually did, perhaps it was because of the nice fucking I gave myself. Or perhaps it was thanks to the energy I spent overthinking the situation. Whichever it was, I was passed out in no time.

Tomorrow I’ll talk more to the hot doctor and have a bit more fun with him.

[Part 2]

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cognitivefunk · 3 years

Text

So I wanted to try my hand at writing something a little darker than usual, exploring some more themes since I’m a fan of yandere and guro. PLEASE pay close attention to the warnings. I probably kept things relatively tame all things considered, but it is not a soft fluffy fic. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Title: Eyes in the Dark

Rating: Explicit, R18+, 18+ not safe for kids

POV: second person AMAB reader, yandere refers to reader as ‘boy’ several times but it’s more of a demeaning thing as reader is 18+

Pairing: Reader/OC Yandere named Adrian

Warnings: NONCON, needles, drugs, kidnapping, torture, stitches, description of wounds, pins and trauma, ball gag, abusive, BL, mild choking, yandere, obsessiveness, unhealthy dynamic, smut, anal penetration, blood, crying, sense of helplessness

Word Count: 9,210

Living in a small village near the forest, you lived a quiet life living off the land. You had your garden, a well for water, and you trapped animals for both fur and sustenance. You could have lived in the city, but in all honesty, it felt right to be so close to nature. After all, you were a solitary creature, preferring the sound of nature over the bustling chaos of city life.

You were quick on your feet, used to running the floor of the forest, collecting wood and food on your excursions. Some of the beasts of the land were violent predators, but you had managed to evade any real harm to date. That is, until tonight.

You had left a little earlier in the morning than your usual schedule. It was a little before 3 a.m. but you wanted to travel down to the ravine later in the day to go fishing and you needed to divide your time carefully if you wanted to get everything done. You slung your knapsack over your shoulder and set out to the forest, yawning to yourself.

Unbeknownst to you, a strange man had been watching you. You sometimes felt eyes on you, but over time you learned to brush off the feeling. As long as it didn’t approach you, you couldn’t be bothered to investigate further. There were a lot of creatures that lived in this forest so you figured it was just another one of the beasts of the land.

Setting your bag down on a tree stump, you walk forward to check on one of your traps, only to step on a piece of rope. Your reaction time was off as the rope tightened around you ankle, hoisting you up in the air. You felt the blood rush to your head, and you flailed your arms around, trying to grab onto a nearby branch. If you could get the dagger out of your waistband, you would be able to cut yourself loose.

As you reached for your tool, you didn’t hear the man approach you. He moved with unnerving silence. You felt a sudden throbbing in your head and shouted out in pain, the world swirling around in your vision before going dark. The last thing you remember seeing was the smile of an unknown man, teeth unusually sharp.

"Ah, good morning my little flower, it's about time you got up," said the man. He knelt down in front of you, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze by lifting your face with his fingers on your chin. "We're going to have a lot of fun together~"

He had a wild look in his eyes; you couldn’t see his pupils, masked by the darkness of his eyes. It was as though his entire iris was a dark hole, pulling you in. Your eyes dart around the room, trying to get a bearing of where you were. Your arms were tied behind you, holding you firmly to a metal support beam. You assumed you were in a basement of some sort. The concrete floor felt damp and cold.

You open your mouth to speak, but the sadist cuts you off. "Stop it! Stop it please!" he cries out again, gripping your cheeks in his hands as he laughs. The sound was chilling, filled with a type of excitement you couldn’t quite place, but you knew it wasn’t good news for your situation.

You shudder, your entire body shaking. There was a tension in the air that made you feel uneasy. "Who are you? Where am I?" you ask, shaking your head from side to side, the man’s hand falling away from your chin.

“Where am I? What do you want from me!?” he mocked you, using a falsetto voice, pretending to cry. It was a twisted display and you found yourself frowning at him. A dark chuckle filled the room as the man shakes his head again, rearing his arm back. You felt his palm make contact with your cheek with a great force, pulling you instantly into reality. You jerk away from the slap, your face radiating with pain as warmth spreads across your cheek.

You tremble, wringing your wrists back and forth, the rope tying them together chaffing the skin. You wonder how long you had been out for. Judging by the soreness of your shoulders, it was at least an hour.

The man brought his face closer to yours, and you could feel your noses brush against one another. His gaze was intense, searching for something in your eyes. He paused, grinning once again. You felt unnerved by his erratic behavior.

"What do you want from me? Money? I'm not much of a ransom," you quip, your voice taking on a defensive edge as the man eyes you. You examined your captor's face. He was undoubtedly handsome, but with an edge of madness to him. He had brown slicked back hair, messy but kept. His eyes held a cruelty to them, and you sank back against the metal pole behind you.

You furrowed your brows in confusion at his confession; the hair on the back of your neck was standing on end. Suddenly, you felt very foolish for ignoring all those times out in the forest you didn’t listen to your gut.

Adrian snarled, slamming his fist into your chest hard. You gasp, wheezing as the breath is knocked out of you. You wheeze, the air pushed from your lungs, replaced by a bruising sting that blossomed across your chest. Your head hung forward as he pulled his fist back, averting your eyes to the ground as you struggled to regain your breath.

He seemed to be thinking, and you felt his nose brush up against yours again. “Money? Oh no my little flower, I don’t want your things. I want you.” He let out a shuddering breath; reaching the hand he was going to hit you with to stroke the side of your face gently. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this…”

The man pulled back just enough to poke his finger against your chest, as if to mock the fact that you were able to defend yourself. You squirmed against his touch, but you had nowhere to retreat to. You pushed your legs against the floor, arching as far back into the metal post as you could. “Who are you!? What do you want?” you pried, trying to get a grasp of your current situation. You felt like a record on repeat, but honestly the panic setting into your mind was scrambling your thoughts.

"I want you to scream," he says simply, as if this was all there was to life.

"What?" you ask. Your heart was racing and you felt another tremor work its way through you.

Adrian pauses, "I want you to scream for me... like a little bitch." He paused, taking the time to pet the hair on the side of your head soothingly. “I want to hear all the sounds you can make. All the pretty little expressions you can give me…”

The words you were thinking of saying next died in your throat before they could even be uttered. This man was crazy. He was going to hurt you, and you had no escape. You shivered, nervously chewing on your lower lip.

"After all this time…now that you’re finally here in my grasp, I want to hurt you, and humiliate you.” He continued petting your hair, tucking a lock of it behind your ear, revealing more of your face to him. “And you’ll be so good for me, won’t you? If not... well, I won't mince words. I will kill you."

You swallow thickly at his threat, taking him at his word. He went through all the trouble to capture you and tie you up in his basement, you were sure he would kill you without a second thought if you did something he didn't like. You would just have to get through this, you told yourself, trying to mentally prepare yourself for what happened next.

He nestled his nose into your hair, breathing deeply and letting out a low groan. “Aaah, my little flower, I want to bury myself in you so bad. Do you think you can take it?” Your mouth felt dry and you tried to swallow again, shakily replying, “I don’t….”

“Shh,” he placed a finger over your lips, stroking his finger along your mouth and tracing the line of your upper lip, smiling as you halted your protest. “That’s a good boy…”

A high pitched whimper emitted in the back of your throat as his threat became...sexual. You were scared; your heart was racing like it was going to jump out of your chest. He couldn’t be serious. Your eyes flickered back to his, and you could see desire pooling in his dark gaze. He was serious.

“Surely you want it too? You’re not a virgin are you?” he spoke low, clearly hoping for the latter to be true. You looked down at the ground, not wanting to meet his eye as you spoke. "No, I’m not," you admitted. Time had passed since then, but you had lain with a man before in your life. You weren't sure you liked the idea of it being with a complete stranger, however, let alone one who was holding you captive in his basement.

He clicked his tongue against his teeth, displeased at this revelation but he seemed to accept the fact. “No matter, once I take you for myself you won’t be able to think about anyone else,” as he spoke, a grin split open on his face and he leaned back in to nuzzle against your soft hair. “That’s right…I’ll take you over, and over again. You’ll be begging me before long…”

He seemed to be talking more to himself than to you. You could feel your face turn red at his sickly perverted ramble, "I don't want this…” you managed to murmur out. You could feel the blush blooming across your face and down your neck as he said those filthy words. It felt wrong. This was wrong. But your body betrayed the rational side of you, and you knew that it was only a matter of time before you would be fully erect.

A bemused chuckle reached your ears as the man pulled away from your hair, towering over you. "You don't have a choice," he spoke low, his voice husky with lust. “I’ve waited too long.”

This was it. He was going to hurt you. Or you were going to be fucked against your will. You screeched internally, realizing it was probably going to be a mixture of the two and you desperately wished you could wring your wrists out of the ropes.

As he stroked the side of your cheek, his hand felt colder than before. You shivered, your mind screaming at you to pull away from his touch, but if you played along he might not hurt you as bad. He could feel you trembling beneath his touch.

“Shhh, it’s ok, don’t be scared. I promise, you’ll enjoy this too. I’ll make sure of that,” he croons gently at you. It was a cruel mockery of kindness. His voice was rehearsed, but the gentleness didn’t reach his eyes.

"I don't...know you," you say quietly, tears starting to prick at the corners of your eyes as you look anywhere but his eyes. You couldn’t trust his saccharine voice, sweet as poison, and just as deadly. His eyes narrowed dangerously at your objection. He flicked his wrist, snapping your head back as his grip on your face tightened.

Your head was still sore from where he knocked you out earlier and you cried as your head smacked against the post. His lips twisted into a smirk and he let out a short bark of laughter, “Well then, how about we get to know each other a little.”

Your breath catches in your throat at the tone in his voice. You needed to soothe over the situation, quickly. "No! Ah, wait. That's not what I mean!" you smile nervously at the man, hoping to appease him. You flounder for your words and you swear you could see enjoyment in that infuriating smirk of his.

You try to scream but all that comes out is a pathetic snivel as your voice cracks under the emotion coursing through you. You were fighting against yourself not to cry. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. The feeling of fear crawled across your body, wrapping you in its embrace.

“Please…I want to go home,” your voice sounds defeated as it leaves you.

He stares at you coldly before speaking once more, “Don’t you want to please me?”

“Tell me then, what do you mean, my flower…” his pet name for you left you uncomfortable, but you weren’t exactly in a place where you could tell him off about it.

"I'll...play along...with you," you say, choosing your words carefully. You searched his face, watching for any change in his reaction. There was definitely enjoyment on his face as he heard you give into the situation.

What you were about to do was not going to be easy on you. It was paramount that you played into his little game. He seemed the type to peel off your skin slowly with his bare hands, and it made your stomach churn. You would need to give a good performance.

"So…what do you want me to do?" you ask, trying to sound coy. You were shifting your shoulders, the ropes around your wrists was cutting in, but you continued slowly twisting your hands back and forth, hoping to loosen the binds.

Adrian smiles, amusement clear in his eyes. "Oh? What’s this now, finally admitting your attraction to me? I’ll admit, I was anticipating it would take you longer to realize your feelings," he rambles on, a laugh escaping his lips.

"What do you mean?" you ask, your heart rate picking up pace again. You shifted awkwardly against the metal post, still unable to move from your spot. He stood up, walking over to the counter on the back wall of the basement to pick something up. You strained to see what he was holding, only to shrink back against the post as you noticed he was walking back toward you with a knife.

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath.

You were terrified of this man.

“Hmmm, I’ll tell you what,” he says, trailing off as his foot touches yours, nudging it a little with the tip of his shoe.

"You’ll be a good little pet for me, hm? I'll make sure you feel nice and special," as he speaks, his voice takes on a darker edge. He kicks your foot to the side, opening your legs as he kneels between your knees. He grins as he takes the knife and cuts away at your pants, leaving your bottom half bare to the cold air of the basement. You were frozen in place, just trying to focus on your breathing as he continued to rip your clothing away from you.

You keep telling yourself to stay calm. He'll realize he's gone too far, stop everything. But he just keeps going, grinning as he rips your underwear away from you as well.

You try to hide yourself from him by pulling your knees closer together, but he grabbed at your legs, pushing them apart. You were completely at his mercy, half aroused from the fear of the situation. "Well, well, well. What do we have here?" he says, voice filled with glee as he licks his lips. “See? I knew you were special…”

You see red. You want nothing more than to reach up, grab that disgusting man by the throat and squeeze until his eyes bulge from his head. You feel pathetic in how utterly helpless you were. If he hadn’t gotten the upper hand on you out in the woods, you would have had a chance to fight back. You wanted more than anything to be able to fight back.

You didn't dare do anything reckless when he had the knife so close to your most sensitive area. He trailed the cold tip of the knife up your thigh, pressing in just enough to leave a light trail of blood. It didn't hurt at first, as the knife kissed your skin, but as the blood came bubbling slowly to the surface you felt the sting of the cut.

He took his time working his way up your legs, taking his time with each cut. By the time he reached your groin, you held your breath in your throat, nervously flicking your eyes back and forth from the knife to his face and back again.

As he pressed the knife shallowly above your groin you moan out involuntarily, catching his attention. His eyes lock onto yours and a flush seems to creep over his cheeks, and he licks his lips slowly, clearly pleased.

“My my, so sensitive,” he breathed, fanning his face dramatically. He seemed to be a rather theatrical man. His voice dipped low again, taking on a sultry tone. “Look at you, getting hard from me cutting you. Tell me, were you always such a filthy pervert or are you just like this for me?”

Changing pace, he pulls back to hit you across the face with the flat of the knife, relishing your delicious reaction.

You cry out pitifully as the knife grazes your cheek from the impact of the blow. A fine line of blood drips down your chin, pooling along your jawline. You frown, your lower lip quivering as curse out, “Fuck…”

His eyes light up, “Aah, you’re so dirty. I knew you’d be perfect~” He was overcome with a giddy, twisted glee as he stood up, excitedly shuffling off to the other side of the basement.

You relax against the post, slumping your head against it to rest as you watched him retreat. You groaned quietly, still working at the ropes around your wrists, trying to get them to loosen. The rope was burning against your skin, and you knew without needing to see them that they were raw and red.

He turned around, pausing his ministrations for a while, just staring at you. He quietly turned away, shuffling bottles and a large toolbox around. The silence was all the encouragement you needed, and you started working feverishly at the knots, exhaustion taking over as your fingers finally work through the knots.

He seemed to be in thought; he paced around the basement, and you were worried he could see what you were up to. You take your chances regardless, freeing your hands from the rope and finally bringing them to your chest, your arms stiff from being held in the same position for hours.

You risk another glance at your captor, who is still pacing. You notice he has something in his hands that you hadn’t seen a moment ago. He was holding a long metal baton with spikes adorning the sides all the way to its pointed tip. You barely had time to register it before you were suddenly greeted with a sharp pain in both of your feet.

He had swung it against the bottom of your bare feet, making you cry out in agony, toes curling inward which only served to aggravate your weeping injury further. "Oh, I'm so sorry. Did that hurt?" he cooed, his voice mockingly sweet as he reeled back, slamming the baton against the heels of your feet this time. You saw white flashes in your vision as the pain exploded in your feet, leaving you incapable of running.

You screamed out, reaching instinctively to hold your legs, choking on a sob as the pain seared up your calves. "Did you really think I wouldn't notice you untying your ropes?" he breathed, dropping the bloodied weapon on the floor behind him with a metallic clink. He knelt between your knees once again, cupping your face in his hands. "You better not be trying to escape, my little flower,” he breathed against your cheek.

“What a naughty little thing, you just can’t help it can you?” he nods to himself, talking more at you than to you. "It’s alright, shh, it’s ok. It’s my fault, I haven’t broken you in yet, it’s ok…" He slipped his arms under yours and laid your arms around his shoulders, holding you tightly against his chest as he rocked you back and forth.

Tears welled in your eyes, and you were unable to stop them from streaming down your cheeks as he rocked you back and forth as though consoling a small child. He continued shushing you, petting your hair soothingly. "Naughty pets get punishment, but that's ok. You're learning...you're still learning," he mused, his voice taking on a sinister tone as he pulled back to wipe at your tears with his thumbs.

"I'll make sure you have so much fun here, you'll forget all your...trivial thoughts of wanting to run away,” he wiped away your tears, smearing some of the blood that was left behind from the earlier cut on your face.

‘Stop touching me with those horrible hands,' you thought to yourself, clenching your teeth together and breathing shakily. You could feel the blood tickling the bottoms of your soles, but the skin and muscle felt so raw you didn't find enjoyment in the sensation. You didn't have time to dwell on it long before he was pulling you to your feet, forcing you to stand.

You cried out loudly, desperately trying to shift the weight off of your feet as he led you over to a cart filled with instruments of torture. He half drug your body to a table, and when you weren’t able to take a further step forward, he fastened his hands under your arms to lift you onto the table. It made you feel like you weighed nothing to him.

You were forced into an awkward sitting position, your arms stretched out in front of you as he chained them to the metal handles at the end.

"Now, you won't be getting out of these as easily," he said cheerfully, patting the metal rings he fastened around your wrists, admiring his handiwork. The clasps were fastened to the ceiling, held together with long chains. You could swing your arms a little, but the range of motion was restricted. Your wrists were still raw with the rope burn from before, the cool metal biting against your flesh.

While you were adjusting to your new position, he turned around to grab a few more of his toys. In one hand was a shorter chain, and in the other was a ball gag. He gave you another cheery smile, holding them up proudly.

Your eyes widen as you notice the ball gag in his hands and he gives you a friendly smile, "Shhh, don’t be scared." He pressed the gag against your lips, holding the back of your head, the chain still wrapped in his other hand. "Open up for me, hm?" He tugged on a fistful of your hair, causing you to gasp. He used the opportunity to press the gag into your mouth, carefully fastening it around your head. "That's better," he mused, wrapping the shorter chain around your throat like a makeshift collar and leash.

You could barely move as he wrapped the chain around your neck, his hand on the other side of your head holding the chain tight against his body. He smiled fondly at you, giving it an experimental tug just to listen to your panicked whine. “Aah, beautiful…” he murmured.

You choked on a sob, blinking away several tears that had begun to form again. You didn't want to be congested with your mouth in such an awkward position, forced open to accommodate the ball. You were thankful for the holes in the sides, likely to assist in breathing, but you knew that before long you would end up drooling and it was demeaning.

He let the chain go for now, letting it dangle around your chest. You had been completely stripped by the blade of his knife earlier, and you felt extremely vulnerable in your current position. You could only watch as he mulled over which of his 'toys' to use first.

Adrian rubbed your shoulder, "Good, very good. You’re doing so well," he turned to pick up two needles, one long and one much shorter. “I know you’re scared little one.” You couldn’t help but whine in the back of your throat again. What was he going to inject you with?

"But that's ok~ I'll make sure you feel really good," he chuckled to himself approaching the table once again. He set the shorter needle down momentarily, inspecting the red tinted liquid in the longer syringe, giving the tip of the needle a little flick as he pushed some of the liquid through, checking for air. "Perfect," he pulls out a small alcohol wipe, ripping the package open with his teeth and running the cool pad over your shoulder. "Take a deep breath for me, ok?" he coos, pressing the needle into your arm, slowly injecting the foreign liquid into you.

You slowly nod, taking in a shaky breath. Once finished, he dabs the little puncture would left behind again with the wipe, moving to the other side of the table with the smaller needle in hand. He repeats the process of wiping down a small patch on your neck before pressing carefully into the crook of your neck. It pinched going in but soon your head felt muddy as the pain in your feet and limbs subsided.

You let out a soft moan, somewhat out of surprise, as the pain was wicked away. He had injected you with a pain reliever, which you were immediately grateful for. But the other injection was also starting to take effect… You felt your skin felt flushed from head to toe. Your breath was increasing in frequency and it felt like the medicine was seeping into every pore.

"Isn’t that better?" he spoke, smiling at you. That damned, incessant smile. He began slowly kissing his way up your stomach, pausing at your chest to swirl his tongue around your now aching nipples.

A lascivious moan escapes your throat, muffled by the gag in your mouth. It startles you, and you feel a pool of heat gathering in your lower half. Your vision is hazy, and your thoughts are jumbled. It feels like your head is underwater. Another moan bubbles in your throat as Adrian bites harshly on a pert nipple, causing you to arch into him.

"Does that feel good?" he asks sweetly, twisting the sensitive nub.

You shiver, nodding your head weakly, earning another chuckle from the man. He plays with the chain dangling from your neck, giving it a little tug just to jolt you.

"Isn't it better when you just play along?" He smiles, giving another gentle tug on the chain. You can’t seem to answer him, your body was aching sweetly, and you swayed a little on the table, the chains rattling at your movement.

He shifts his weight off the table momentarily to put the emptied syringes back into his toolbox. He would worry about cleaning them later. For now, he was going to have fun with his new pet.

"Tell me, have you ever tasted your own blood?"

Your eyes widen in terror as your mind scrambles to come up with an answer. You go to respond, momentarily forgetting the gag in your mouth. You make a muffled sound before shaking your from side to side, eyeing him suspiciously. He hums to himself, picking a small, decorative knife from the toolbox, inspecting it for sharpness before turning to face you completely. "Oh that's a shame," his voice has a mocking sense of pity in it as he approaches you with a glint in his eye. "Let's change that shall we?"

A distressed whimper hangs in the back of your throat and you tug at the chains around your wrist. You still your movements when you notice the frown curving on his lips. His eyes were narrow as he pressed the knife up against your collarbone, letting the blade kiss your skin lightly, a thin trail of blood dripping down in a single line down your chest. He admired it for a moment before flipping it in his hand and driving the blade down into your thigh.

A startled yelp escapes your lips as you tears rapidly fall down your cheeks. You press your tongue hard against the gag to prevent yourself from screaming, trying to bite against the slippery surface. The pain was dulled from the earlier injection, but you were still able to feel the subdued ache that it left behind. He twisted the knife harshly to the side, opening a gash in your soft thigh and you wince, crying out as you avert your eyes away from the damage.

Unfortunately for you, the aphrodisiac in your system was tricking your mind into reacting to the pain by sending jolts of pleasure through your system. It made you want to feel sick, sending a violent shudder up your spine.

He begins to trace a finger along your oozing wound, painting his finger a deep shade of crimson. He hums to himself again, grin widening as a ghastly idea inspires him into action. He grabs a straight pin from the table, leaning in to press it into your throbbing flesh.

He stood back for a moment, eyes trailing over the pin in your wound and he smiled thoughtfully, standing back to grab several more pins, effectively adorning them across your wound to hold it open. "Beautiful," he breathed, admiring the weeping, mutilated flesh. You breathed harshly, the sensations nearly overwhelming your senses. You didn't want to look at it; it made your stomach drop.

He leans over the table in front of you, lifting your chin up with a rough hand.

Adrian then presses his index finger directly into the gaping wound, coating his finger in your warm, sticky blood. Your face twists in agony as he penetrates your thigh. You could see him shiver, and a twisted smile graced his handsome features. You wished the circumstances were different, then you might truly be able to appreciate the man's face. But right now your emotions felt mixed, and your pulse pounded in your temples. You just wanted him to stop.

He twirls his finger in the air, drawing out the moment before he brings it down to one of the holes in the ball gag, letting it drip inside. You were frozen, fixated on his hand as your own blood dripped down, onto your tongue. You had no choice but to taste the metallic, copper tang that coated your tongue. It made you dizzy, but you moaned out reflexively.

"Savor," he whispers quietly, watching your reaction carefully. You can tell he's enjoying this.

You let your eyes flutter shut, focusing on the strange taste in your mouth. There was a vague sweetness to it that you assumed was the result of whatever he injected you with. You swayed a little, your body feeling slow as another wave of warmth spread across you.

You were about to lose consciousness. He knew it.

"Aah, I can hardly take it. You’re so beautiful,” he gushed, admiring your body as you struggled against your consciousness. “I'm going to enjoy this."

He traced a hand under your chin almost lovingly, reaching back to his toolbox. "As much as I love seeing you so...helpless...I can't have you falling asleep before the main event."

You kept your eyes closed, embracing the warmth of his hand as he caressed you. You leaned into him, and made a small noise of disappointment when he withdrew his touch. It wasn't until you felt another needle injecting into your skin that you blearily opened your eyes. A jolt of electricity coursed through your body, rousing your senses and you were suddenly wracked with shivers.

Your veins felt cold, but your skin burned hotter. He stood over you, studying you, watching as your body started to react to the pain that was surely throbbing from your torn up thigh. He took in a sharp breath, palming himself through his pants at the sight of you. A disheveled mess.

“Aaahn, I made a miscalculation in the sedative but I made it all better,” he shuddered, working himself up. You could see his impressive erection straining against his pants as he palmed himself.

"Let's start again," he finally said. You heard the buckle of his pants come undone, and for the life of you, you wished the sound of it hadn't turned you on. You felt disgusting. You whined, twisting your hips as you continued to arch and writhe in place.

You cried out, arching with nowhere to go. Your arms pulled against the chains that held you in place and you writhed in your seat on the table. The pain started to mix into a complicated sensation, causing you to pant out harshly, the ball gag impeding your ability to really do much else.

He stood over you, watching.

"Do you have any idea how arousing it is to watch you fight against it?" his voice was thick with desire, and it made your stomach clench. You locked eyes with his, unable to stop your body from trembling at the sight of him. You could only watch as he disrobed, exposing his muscular body to you.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment,” he exhaled slowly, swooning. You shook your head, unable to speak through the gag. He crawled forward, hands running along the top of your thighs.

"Give in," he spoke low, his left hand ghosting over the trauma he inflicted on your thigh. You couldn’t help but react to his touch. He let his hands trail higher, touching everywhere but your now fully erect cock. A bead of precum dripped from the tip of your penis, which strained against your abdomen painfully.

He leaned forward and lapped it up with his tongue, his eye contact intense as he pressed his tongue flat against the tip, and you saw stars. You moaned loudly, every fiber of your being lighting up. He didn't give you much relief, however, moving instead to lick across your stomach, all the way up to your chest where he teased your nipples. A sharp pain shot through you, and you whined into your gag, moving your hips in tiny little circles.

You shook, rutting your hips frantically as he bit into your nipple once again, causing your hips to jerk forward. You desperately wanted more, the danger of the situation currently being outweighed by your near violent arousal.

He traced his fingers along your thigh once more, but stopped. You whined into the gag, desperate for him to continue.

"You poor thing, do you want to touch yourself?" he asked, his eyes flickering over you.

Your eyes trailed to the chains that held your wrists in place and you looked back to him cautiously at first but soon you found yourself nodding enthusiastically, offering eager, yet muffled begs behind your ball gag for him to release your arms.

He didn't move to release you, instead moving one of his hands to your chest, pushing on your shoulders as he moved you up the table, angling your body to an almost perfect position.

"Mmph!" you cried out.

Your arms were placed in a rather precarious position, straining against your shoulders as the binds forced your hands forward. He had pulled your lower half down so you were no longer sitting upright, but rather, leaned against the top half of the table. Your legs were pushed to the sides, causing your mangled feet to dangle off either edge of the table.

“Perhaps another time… I’d love to watch you pleasure yourself to the thought of me,” he chuckled, positioning your body to suit his needs. You were stretched out, open, ready for him to do whatever he wanted with you.

He trailed his hand up your chest to press into your neck, holding down for a few pauses before letting go, watching you struggle for breath. Laughing quietly to himself, he yanked the chain around your neck, tightening the hold he had on you.

Groaning, you gasp for breath as he releases his hold on your neck only to let out a startled, yet muffled shout when he yanked the chain, pulling you off the table by roughly an inch before dropping you back onto it. Due to your constant attempts at communication, you can feel the saliva collecting in your mouth, noticing it had already started to drool down your chin.

Adrian released the chain and you coughed and sputtered, trying to catch your breath.

"Mphmm," you try to reason with him, steadying your quickened breaths. The man reaches over to the cart next to his toolbox, and picks up a bottle off the cart. You watch as he squirts the thick, gooey substance out onto his fingers. "I like it to feel good for me too," he states matter-of-factly. "Blood doesn't make the best lubricant." His words were cryptic, as though he had a lot of experience in that field.

Pulling your legs away, he nestles in front of you, spreading them slightly as he kneels down. You keen loudly, rutting your hips against the air, digging your back against the table. He pressed a hand against your hip, pressing you back down. "Don’t worry; I'm going to give you something that's going to make you feel really good."

And with that, he presses the first lubed finger against your puckered hole. The lubricant is cold, but it feels nice against your feverish skin. You moan out, long and drawn out as he dips the finger in to the knuckle, slowly fingering it inside of you.

He's stretching you, and in this moment you had never felt anything so intense. The aphrodisiac and adrenaline coursing through your body left you a whimpering jittery mess.

He adds a second finger, scissoring them to allow for easier access as he stretches you open.

You can't help but rut against his fingers, and it seems to please him greatly. "You're being such a good little pet right now, that's right. Fuck yourself on my fingers," he encourages you, watching as you hopelessly try to get off on his fingers, twisting and stretching inside you. He lifted his hand off of your hip, allowing you to have more movement.

You raise your hips as he continues to scissor his fingers, having just added a third to the mix, trying to get as much pleasure out of the feeling as you can.

You mewl a high pitched whine as he curves his fingers, striking that spot inside of you that makes you see stars. You practically thrash against his hand, trying to replicate the sensation erratically.

"Yes, that's it," he whispers, "I'm going to make you feel so good. You want that don't you? You want me to make you come hard and fast, don't you?" his words picked up with excitement, and he laughed manically, watching you chase your pleasure on his fingers.

"MMPH!" you cry out with fervor, rocking back and forth against his digits, your legs still dangling over the edge of the table. Your arms strained aggressively against the chains but you didn't care. You couldn't care. You couldn't think about anything else other than the pleasure that was building in your core. That is, until he withdrew his hand.

The sudden absence of it makes you moan in opposition, broken into sudden sobs at the sudden feeling of abrupt emptiness.

"Shh, shh, it's ok. I'll fill you up, don't you worry," he consoles you with his deep, low voice. You lull your head to the side, another shiver trailing its way to the base of your spine as he licks his lips slowly, lining himself up against your opening.

He pushes himself forward, sliding into you in one hard thrust. He's so... big. So much bigger than any other person you've fit inside yourself.

The loudest moan yet erupted from your throat, and you drooled down the sides and holes of your gag. You were thankful he took the time to stretch you out, knowing that he would have split you open if he tried to thrust in like that unprepared. You found yourself weeping, overwhelmed with emotion as he pulled back and began thrusting in earnest.

"Ah... fuck, yes..." he pants, and with one hand he roughly grabs your hair, holding you in place as he thrusts into you.

The dull pain from the rough grip he had on your hair only fueled the fire in your gut. The pain medicine had dissipated almost entirely, but you were in such a high state of arousal that you didn't mind. The only thing you cared about was chasing your release, your body felt like you were treading through fire and water at the same time. Your cock ached against your belly; pushed up against you at the angle Adrian was fucking you into the table.

His thrusts became faster. More erratic. You could make out the grunts of effort as he needed to put all his strength into each thrust. He growls, long and low.

Your eyes crossed at the sound of his growl. It was so primal, and awakened a very submissive urge in you. You mewled and arched your back, slightly, still being held in place by the hand on your hair. You just wanted to increase the friction on your weeping, neglected cock.

You made a pitiful noise in the back of your throat as you breathed heavily. He growled again, “Come for me, you can do it. Come on nothing but my cock, I can see it written all over your face.” He picked up his pace, ramming into you with ruthless abandon.

“You’re my filthy little cumslut aren’t you? Aah, that’s right, come on my cock for me,” he continued to encourage you with dirty talk. You arched off the table, straining firmly against the chains around your wrists. He gripped at your hips, digging his nails firmly into your skin as he angled his thrusts against your prostate, earning a loud howl from you. With each thrust he hit that sweet spot and you felt the build of your orgasm pool deep within you. It wasn't long before you were sobbing again, your orgasm sweeping over you with white hot emotion.

Your body shook as he continued to grip you tightly. You felt the warm splash of your cum hit your stomach, painting you in your own seed. He growled, his eyes completely clouding over at the sight, and with one last, powerful thrust he came into you.

Tears stained your face, your hair was tousled from his rough grip, you were an absolute trainwreck but you were beyond feeling self-conscious about it. You felt his seed empty inside of you, filling you with a warm sensation. You moaned quietly, rolling your hips against his cock as he held the base of his shaft, milking every last drop of his cum inside your hole.

The pair of you panted, both of you staring at each other as you came down from your high.

You had nearly lost your voice; it came out as a hoarse, broken sound as you tried to say something against the ball gag in your mouth. You were covered in your own saliva, cum, tears, and blood. Adrian looked at you reverently, clearly admiring the state he had put you in.

He slowly pulled out of you, a soft groan escaping your lips. You panted, feeling a sense of exhilaration as his cum gushed out. It was still warm as it tickled down your skin, an altogether pleasant sensation.

"You like that? Hm?”

You shivered weakly, slumping against the table the best you could with the binds still holding your arms forward. It had taken a lot out of you.

"You’re so perfect…" he whispered quietly to himself, reaching toward you to release the ball gag, and a flood of air rushed into your mouth. You coughed, hacking up a wad of saliva and blood, but felt so much better for it.

You flushed, embarrassed that you had made a mess. Worried it might set him off again. You watched for any sign of contempt but didn't notice any outright.

He wiped his hand down your face and neck, gently cleaning you off, before releasing you from the chains holding you in place. You fell to the ground with a thud, a weak cry murmuring in your throat as your face pressed against the cool concrete.

You groan on the floor, attempting to use your raspy voice, "Please..help..." you manage to whisper out, reaching for the man.

He smiles, a bright, toothy grin that makes you shiver, "I'm sorry about that. Wasn't watching where I was pulling, won't you forgive me?" he asks in an almost playful tone, leaning down to pick you up. He glanced at the mess on the table and seemed to mull something over, but he decided to set you back down on the dirtied table at least temporarily.

You struggle to stay upright, your body suddenly very exhausted, either from the intensity of your previous session or from the adrenaline that had been injected into your body previously. Your limbs felt like lead and your body was crying out in pain. The pins in your thigh had pressed in further when you fell and your leg was oozing blood.

He stepped back, a cruel grin spreading across his face, "Please forgive me," he said again.

You give him a pathetic look, all the fight having been sapped out of your maimed body. "Ok..." you say quietly, rubbing at your thigh to try to ease some of the pain.

You chew on your lower lip, an anxious habit, as you worked up the courage to ask him to do something for you. "Could...could you please take out these pins, sir?" your voice was raw, but audible.

He tilted his head, "The ones in your leg?" he asked in mock surprise.

"Yes...my leg...I..."

He grasped your thigh in his hand, tightening his grip as he played with one of the pins, wiggling it back and forth with his eyes fixated on your reaction. You let out a small moan, your body still sending mixed signals from your previous arousal. His eyes flicked up to meet with yours and he raised an eyebrow, "This one?" he asked, feigning ignorance.

"Please..." you whimpered.

"Well, I suppose I could get that closed up for you. Wouldn't want you to bleed out on me now would I?" he flashed another grin, and walked over to the counter, fetching what appeared to be a first aid kit before returning to his previous position.

He opened it and bent down to you, "We're going to have to do this the old fashioned way then. Hold still."

You opened your mouth to question him but were immediately cut off with a yelp as he began to pry the needles out of your leg. He counted them, and then counted them again just to be sure before taking out a small bottle of antiseptic and pouring it directly onto the wound. You let out a piercing scream, nearly losing the rest of your voice in the process.

His hands were warm as they pressed on your leg, trying to clean the wound as effectively as he could. "It'll be fine, I promise," he whispered in your ear as he cleaned the wounds, "Just relax."

He hummed to himself as he pulled out a suture kit. Pouring some of the antiseptic out onto his hands, he rubs them together before gathering his tools. He threaded the hook carefully, pulling an edge of the wound and angling the hooked needle at a 90 degree angle before piercing the skin deeply, careful not to pull up as he threaded it through to the other side, tying the edges together to hold the middle of your wound closed. You whimpered quietly as he worked, not able to look down as the needle and medical thread were threaded through your flesh.

There was a slight pain as the stitches were tied off, and you snuck a quick peak, only to look down to see blood dripping down your shin, staining your knee down to your ankle red. Another whimper escaped your lips and you buried your face in your hands, rubbing your face gently as you tried to distract yourself from the stitches the man was giving you.

"Thank you," you said quietly, not moving the hands from in front of your eyes. You could not watch it any longer.

"You're most welcome," though you couldn't see it, his smile deepened into a something more genuine as he continued his work.

When it seemed he was finished with the sutures on your leg, you cracked a finger open to look down, amazed that the stitches looked so...professional.

You looked up at him again, and found him staring intently down at his work. He looked back up at you, a little surprise on his face as he saw your hands had finally moved from covering up your pretty face.

He trailed his hands down your calves, lifting your legs up to examine the trauma he had inflicted to the bottoms of your feet earlier. "Hmmm, looks like you won't be running off any time soon. How about I run us a nice hot bath and we can wrap these up, hm?" He released your leg, letting it dangle back off the side of the table before standing up. You nodded nervously, watching him as he moved through the dimly lit room to the corner of the room.

You could hear clanking noises as he seemed to be putting things into a sink. Your suspicions were confirmed when you heard the tap water running, the sound was almost soothing in how normal it was. Once satisfied, he returned to scoop you up in his arms, leading you toward the stairs that led to the main part of his house. You held on tightly, afraid he might drop you at any minute.

He sat you on a metal rack in the bathroom, as hot water trickled down from a faucet into a bathtub.

You watched intently as he added soap and some sort of scented pebbles into the water, intrigued when they dissolved into the hot water. While the water ran, he made sure to get some towels and gauze ready, laying out a fresh bathmat next to the tub before finally shutting the water back off.

"Let's get you into that bath now, my little flower," he crooned.

He eased you into the bathwater, climbing in right behind you, letting you lay against his chest as he bathed every inch of you. He tickled the backs of your ears, relishing when you tried to move away from his touch.

He obviously wasn't annoyed at you for this outburst though, and instead decided to startle you by biting your shoulder.

"OW!" you yelled, jumping in the water.

It sloshed around you, the water having turned a light pink shade from the blood. You heard a chuckle behind you before you felt his flattened tongue pressed against his little bite, soothing over the wound. You found yourself leaning into him once again.

"Do you like being scared? That's how you get my attention, little one. You need to work harder next time." His words held a cryptic tone once again. You couldn’t figure him out. His personality seemed all over the place and it left you on edge.

"Why me?" you ask, shifting a little as he reaches down, 'cleaning' you out by pressing his fingers back into your hole to coax out the rest of his cum. You let out a sling of delightful noises as he wriggled his finger in and out of your sensitive entrance.

He bit your shoulder once again, harder this time, and you yelped. He slowed his ministrations down to little nibbles, and by the time he was finished you had calmed down again.

"Mmm, as much as I would love to go a second round, I think we need to get you cleaned up," he sighed, opening the drain to the tub, startling you with the loud noise as the water flowed down the drain, he stood up, turning the water to the shower head on, detaching it so that he could finish washing the two of you.

Once you were both clean, he dried you off first, rubbing baby oil into your skin and scalp until your hair was slicked back.

It was strange, that he was almost...pampering you after what he did to you down in his basement. It made your stomach do a little flip as he treated you so gently. He took the time to wrap your feet in gauze, only occasionally squeezing a little too tight just to see your face twist in pain.

Once your preparations were done, he picked you up from the table and set you on your feet again.

You winced, immediately leaning forward to fall into his arms. You couldn't bear the weight on your feet, even with them wrapped in bandages. The pain was simply too intense. There was no way you were going to able to run like this. He smirked, leaving you to flounder for a few more moments before scooping you up into his arms.

You settled into his rhythm, as he walked from the kitchen and down the stairs, holding you tightly as you buried your head into his shoulder.

You were led to a bedroom, where he laid you out onto a lavish bed, all the while never averting his gaze from you. He watched as your eyes fluttered, feeling the comfortable bed behind you as you sank against the cushion. "Comfortable?" he asked.

"Mm," you answered, the exhaustion weighing down on you. He leans forward, placing a kiss against your temple, playing with your slicked back hair.

"Get some rest. I have a few...tasks for you in the morning, once you've had time to rest. But right now, it's time to sleep."

You would worry about what the future held in the morning, for now, sleep was encompassing you in a welcoming darkness. You could hardly hear the next few sentences out of his mouth, his voice fading in and out, "...and if you try to crawl away I'll just break your kneecaps." He stroked the side of your face tenderly, watching as you finally fell asleep. "Sweet dreams."

#usagiwrites #reader x yandere #torture fic #male reader #smut

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xjoonchildx · 4 years

Text

airplane, pt. 2 | jjk x reader chapter three: koreatown

pairing: jungkook/reader

word count: 3.4K rating: 18+

genre: smut | silly smut | nonsensical smut

warnings: criminal!jungkook, koreanamerican!jungkook, reality has left the chat, plausibility has left the chat

A/N: so...as i’m turning this PWP into a P “with” P i actually had to add some plot lol. i really hope you guys like the direction this story is taking and i’m starting to feel a bit more confident about how it’s going to end. but please let me know what you think, hearing from you guys makes my day. i’d love to know if you think the plot is making any sense. i mean, as much sense as a story about jungkook as a super hot criminal robber on the run with a federal agent lover could possibly make, ya know?

xoxo

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06

artwork by the shmexy @ppersonna who’s smut is even better than her art

***********************

A postcard comes in the mail seven weeks after San Juan.

Colorful block letters urge you to VISIT BELIZE over decorative shots of the country’s beautiful beaches and most visited spots.

The only thing that appears to be written on the card is your address. You examine it dozens of times, looking from front to back for any other marking. You come up empty.

There is one unusual thing you notice, though.

The postmark.

Clearly written at the top: Los Angeles 90005.

There’s no way this card was mailed out of Belize and there’s very little chance Jungkook managed to get back inside the country without setting off a thousand alerts on your phone.

You assume he must have routed it through his parents.

You’ve tried so damned hard these past few weeks not to think about what happened in Puerto Rico. You’ve tried to forget the full-body shock you experienced when he asked you to play along with his absurd fantasy. You tell yourself there’s no way he could possibly believe that you would go on the run with him.

But then you remember the look on his face.

Seeing this postcard -- holding it in your hands -- makes San Juan real again. It’s not some bizarre fever dream you had or some figment of your imagination. The emotions it dredges up are uncomfortable to confront.

Is he in trouble? Is he asking for help? What are you supposed to do with this?

Logically, you know there’s nothing you can do.

So you slip the card into your bedside drawer and file the information away in that part of your brain that seems to now be dedicated to thinking about Jungkook Jeon full-time.

************************

Over the next few weeks, two more cards arrive.

Guatemala.

Honduras.

That fake passport Jungkook apparently managed to get his hands on seems to be getting a workout.

Each time a new card comes in the mail -- always postmarked out of LA, the knot in your stomach seems to loosen. He’s still going. He’s not locked away somewhere.

Not yet, anyway.

You try to remind yourself that he’s smart -- really, really smart. He has a knack for staying under the radar. His Spanish is probably pretty decent at this point. He’s making or finding enough money to stay on the move.

Maybe he’s got a plan. Maybe he’s figured something out.

But it’s hard to keep the anxiety at bay. You watch your phone like a hawk, waiting to see an email or text saying he’s been caught. You spend every day waiting for the other shoe to drop.

So the cards go into your drawer -- and you get up and get dressed and go into the office every day like you’re not secretly rooting for the criminal so many of your colleagues are looking for.

*************************

The other shoe finally drops when you bump into Agent Novak in the cafeteria one afternoon.

Novak is one of those guys who looks like he’s straight out of central casting on a crime show. He has the appearance of a boxy, overgrown boy. Always dressed in a muted grey suit, always sporting a military-grade short haircut. The only thing that stands out on his completely non-descript face is his big mouth.

And right now you should be very glad for his big, fat mouth.

“You hear about your boy Jeon?” he asks, while piling his plate high with mac and cheese. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end for a moment at the mere mention of Jungkook’s name.

You move down the buffet line next to Novak slowly, the sudden adrenaline rush making your limbs feel weak and loose.

“Jeon?” you ask with feigned nonchalance. “Courthouse Houdini?”

“That’s the one,” Novak says, dropping two huge pieces of fried chicken onto his plate. “My buddy in the Marshals says they’re pretty close to bringing that asshole in,” he continues, adding some crinkle fries into the mix for good measure.

God, you hope he doesn’t have a heart attack before you get all the information you need.

He needs a trough, not a plate.

“Well, it’s about time,” you reply carefully and you hope it sounds convincing. “Where?”

“Central America,” he says, reaching down to his plate to start picking off the crinkle fries one-by-one. “Guatemala or some shit.”

A chill runs up your spine when you think about those postcards in your drawer.

They’re close.

They could be there right now.

He could be in handcuffs again right now.

“Hope they have better luck than I did keeping him nailed down,” you say, willing your voice and face to stay even.

“Oh trust me,” he says, talking around a mouthful of crinkle fry. “They’re going to teach that motherfucker a lesson when they get their hands on him. He won’t be able to walk, much less run.”

You swallow against the bile rising in your throat.

“That’s what he gets, right?”

Novak nods, grabbing for a chicken finger. You cringe when he shoves it into his mouth. Tiny pieces of the breading stick to his lips and you fight the urge to gag.

God, has he always been such a pig?

“Damn straight.”

****************************

You circle the block three times before you feel comfortable enough to park.

The neighborhood is quiet and clean and solidly middle-class. The house you are looking for is neat and well-kept, lawn trimmed and flower beds nicely maintained. It looks like a nice place to live.

You cut the ignition and take a deep breath.

You have to remind yourself that Jungkook is not Al fucking Capone and there’s no reason for the government to have around-the-clock surveillance on his family home. You have to maintain a level head even under this insane set of circumstances.

You try not to think about how furious he would probably be if he knew you were here right now.

Maybe someday he’ll understand why you’re doing this.

Maybe someday you’ll understand why you’re doing this.

You’d worked late at the office, preferring to make this move when the sun went down. You’re glad for the cover of darkness when you step out of your car and knock on the front door at the Jeon family home.

“Can I help you?”

You take a deep breath when Mr. Jeon opens the front door. He has the same kind, handsome face as Jungkook, only his is weathered with age and worry.

“Mr. Jeon, I need to speak with you about your son.”

His eyes widen for a moment. He seems to pull back and assess the way you’re dressed, figures out you’re one of those government-types.

“I’ve already said everything I have to say on the matter,” he says shortly, moving to shut the door.

“Wait, please,” you say urgently. “I’m trying to help him, I swear. I can explain if you let me in.”

He stops for a moment, levels you with a critical look.

“I think he’s in trouble,” you say quietly.

Mr. Jeon sighs heavily before opening the door wide and letting you in.

“I’m sorry to turn up at your home like this,” you say, moving immediately across the living room to close the blinds on all the street-facing windows. “But I’m not sure how much time I have.”

He watches in total silence but you can see he’s unnerved.

“I’m just...being cautious,” you explain, and he nods.

Once you’re satisfied no one can see inside, you start to calm down a bit. Mr. Jeon offers you a seat on the living room couch.

“This is a very strange situation, I know,” you admit.

He remains mute and still, waiting for you to cough up some kind of explanation.

“Do you know who I am?” you ask.

“No.”

His response is clipped and severe and you really can’t blame him.

“Okay,” you say, blowing out a breath. “Yes, I am with the FBI. But I --” you pause for a moment, grasping for a way to explain this bizarre situation. “ -- I know Jungkook. Personally.”

Intimately. Biblically, as they say.

“Okay,” he says cautiously.

“I need you to get in touch with him because I think he’s going to be arrested. Soon.”

Mr. Jeon rubs a hand across the back of his neck.

“I don’t know where he is. And I can’t get in touch with him,” he admits. “He doesn’t want us to know where he is because then you people will have something to hold over us.”

You wince at the venom in that statement.

A faint voice from another room calls out.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Mr. Jeon says.

He leaves you alone on the couch in the family room.

You wipe your sweaty palms on your dress pants as you take a look around. The decor is soft and welcoming, with a few nods to Korea in the artwork on the walls. It looks like a nice place to grow up, you think. The thought helps calm you.

He reappears after a minute.

“I’m sorry about that,” he says apologetically. “I would really prefer my wife not know about this. This situation has already caused her a lot of pain.”

“Of course -- I understand,” you say quietly. “So you have no way to contact him?”

“No. Not directly.”

“Then I need to know how you contact him indirectly. He’s been sending me postcards somehow. Do you know who could be sending me postcards from him?”

His face falls a bit.

“I shouldn’t say. I’m not trying to get anyone else in trouble.”

You lean forward a bit, fix him with a look that you hope conveys just how sincere you are about trying to help.

“I don’t want anyone else to get in trouble, either. But if you don’t give me that name, I promise you Jungkook will be. Please.”

Mr. Jeon sighs.

*****************************

You pull the brim of your baseball cap low over your eyes and adjust your sunglasses before walking into Min’s Market.

The small, family-owned store is in one of Koreatown’s most populated neighborhoods. You keep your head low as you dodge people on the sidewalk to make your way inside. An electronic chime sounds when you walk in.

The only thing you see in your quick glance around the store is a young man behind the register. He stands when you make eye contact and you take that as the go-ahead to approach.

He’s not a large guy by any means, but he definitely gives off a do not fuck with me vibe. You straighten your spine and get right to the point.

“Are you Yoongi?”

“Nope.”

He’s lying, of course. His eyes are narrowed at you beneath long black fringe bangs and you can’t blame his skepticism given the giant sunglasses and the hat and the workout clothes you’re hiding under. You look like you’re trying way too hard not to be noticed.

“I need to talk to you about Jungkook,” you say anyway.

“Never heard of him.”

Okay, not entirely unexpected. You’d come prepared for the possibility that he wouldn’t want to play ball.

You reach into your bag and pull out the postcards, drop them on the counter in front of him.

“You’ve been sending me these,” you say firmly. “And we need to talk.”

******************************

Yoongi takes you to the tiny office tucked into the back of Min’s Market. The space is cluttered with invoices and notes written in Hangul. There’s a monitor display where he can watch the surveillance cameras at the front of the store.

He motions for you to take a seat on the one small chair he has and opts to lean against the office desk, arms crossed.

“So you’re Carver Street, huh?”

You take your sunglasses off so you can look him in the eye.

“Yeah.”

“And you’re… a Fed.”

He delivers that line with a cynical twist to his mouth that makes you feel self-conscious.

“Yeah.”

“Shit’s wild,” he says, more to himself than to you.

“Yeah, wild,” you exhale nervously. “Look, I’m sure you don’t want to be involved here any more than you already are, so I’ll just come out with it,” you say. “I need to get in touch with Jungkook.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes.

“Look, I don’t know you, okay? Maybe he does, but I don’t. And I’m not trying to be an asshole here, but I’m not going to give you that information.”

You rub at the corners of your temples with your fingers.

“You know he’s been reaching out to me. You know he trusts me.”

Yoongi snickers.

“We haven’t exactly had the chance to catch up over beers since this whole mess started. The only thing I know for sure is that he wants you to get those postcards,” he says.

“Okay, okay, you’re right,” you concede. “I’m pretty sure he’s in Honduras right now. And I need you to reach him as fast as you can. Because they are closing in on him and I don’t know how long he’s got.”

Yoongi shoves a hand through his hair.

“Okay. I’ll tell him.”

“How fast can you reach him?”

“Look, I said I’ll tell him, okay?”

You tell yourself to relax before you scare Yoongi off entirely. It looks like his patience with you is already worn thin.

“Okay. Please tell him to try to get to Nicaragua,” you say, careful to keep the agitation from creeping back into your voice. “They have a history of denying extradition requests to the U.S. It could buy us some time to figure out what to do.”

“Us?”

Yoongi quirks an eyebrow at you, the corners of his mouth lifting in a barely-concealed look of astonishment. You feel the blush that spreads across your face all the way to the tips of your ears.

“Him,” you correct yourself awkwardly, “it could buy him some time to figure out what to do.”

He grabs a pen and scribbles on a sheet of paper on the desk.

“Nicaragua, okay. Got it.”

“And please -- if you can -- get him this,” you say, handing Yoongi your own slip of paper with a number written on it. “It’s a burner. In case he needs to get in touch.”

Yoongi takes the number from you and nods.

“Alright.”

You stand to leave, knowing you’ve taken as much of his time as you’re allowed.

“One more thing and I promise you’ll never hear from me again,” you say, pointing to the monitor inside the office.

“Delete that,” you say. “Please.”

*************************************

You dig around in your cabinet until you find the wine glass you’re looking for -- the huge one -- and then you reach into the fridge for what’s left of your Sauvignon Blanc and dump it into that glass.

Nothing to do now but hope he gets the message in time.

Nothing to do now but watch your work phone and see if he’s been arrested.

Nothing to do now but watch your burner phone to see if he’s contacted you.

It’s time to admit your nerves are shot. Weeks of heightened anxiety are taking its toll and the past two days have felt like a marathon.

You run a bath -- make sure the water is close to painfully hot before you sink into the tub. Your body feels exhausted but your mind is still racing like you’ve shotgunned a cup of coffee.

You lean your head back against the ledge of the bath and take a long drink of the wine.

What if he makes it to Nicaragua? What does that even mean? You buy a few more weeks of the same on-the-run bullshit and for what?

What is the end game here? And for that matter why on earth are you doing any of this?

You barely know this man. And now it’s starting to feel like you barely know yourself.

Your fingers and toes are pruny and the water is lukewarm at best when you finally crawl out of the tub. You down the rest of your wine, throw a soft t-shirt on and fall into the bed.

All night you toss and turn and when you finally wake it’s like you never slept at all.

****************************

It’s a few days before you see Novak again.

You happen to overhear his obnoxiously loud laugh just outside your office and your entire body jolts to attention.

You jump up from your desk and peer outside.

Novak is busy chatting up a woman who works a few spaces down, no doubt boring her with unwanted banter about his weekend. He happens to look up and you motion for him to come over.

“Hey, yeah, I’ll be right there,” he says, and you head back to your desk on leaden legs.

Maybe he knows something, maybe he doesn’t.

You’ve got to figure out how to walk the line between interested in the search for Jungkook but not too interested. Thankfully, Novak doesn’t strike you as the type to pick up on the subtleties of most interactions. If he was, he’d stop bugging that woman right away.

He knocks loudly on your open door when he finally makes his way over.

“Hey,” he grins widely. “What’s up?”

“Hey,” you smile back, feeling a cold panic spread across your chest. Maybe you’re not ready to hear what he has to say.

“I was wondering if your buddies ever caught up to Jeon.”

“Man listen,” Novak says, helping himself to a chair. “You are not going to believe this shit.”

Your fingernails grip your legs underneath the desk, dig painfully into the skin just above your knees through the thin fabric of your pants.

“Did he...get away, again?” you ask, desperate to keep a note of hope out of your voice.

“Yup,” Novak confirms. “Piece of shit cleared out by the time the Marshals they sent down there managed to get to where he was. Some place in Honduras or something.”

Novak shakes his head.

“My buddies are sick of looking for his ass at this point. At some point they’ve got to call it off, right?”

You can barely register a thing he’s saying because oh my god he made it out.

“Wow,” you manage, trying to appear appropriately sympathetic and outraged. “That’s unbelievable.”

“Yeah so,” Novak says, “back to the drawing board on that one, I guess.”

You’re forced to sit through a few more minutes of his blabber and small talk but all you can think about is Jungkook making it out in time. All you can think about is getting back to your house and to that burner phone.

When Novak finally stands to leave, you nearly sigh out loud with relief.

“Hey, good luck to your buddies, yeah? That’s got to be pretty frustrating,” you say, walking him out the door.

“Yeah, I’ll pass the message along,” he says. “I’m sure you’re just as ready as they are to see this guy get what he deserves.”

You smile weakly.

“Oh, definitely.”

***************************

You make a beeline for the ladies room and walk right into a stall.

Once inside, you drop the seat lid and sit on top, desperate for just one moment to be alone with your thoughts.

He made it out. He’s not in custody. Maybe there’s a way to fix this entire mess.

Then you fall apart.

You’ve reached the limit of what you can handle without some kind of emotional release. The panic and the anxiety and the relief and the hope come together and boil over inside you.

The tears start coming and they don’t stop.

You have to flush the toilet three times to cover the sound of your sobs.

***************************

You race home from the office and practically dive for the burner phone in your nightstand. The entire drive back, you’ve told yourself not to expect a message.

It’s entirely possible he doesn’t want to contact you.

It’s entirely possible that he doesn’t have anything to say to you after the way you left things in San Juan. You tell yourself to be ready to see absolutely nothing when you check the burner.

But when you do unlock the phone, you find a waiting text. You steel yourself for what he has to say.

nicaragua is boring [ 3:15 PM ]

send nudes [ 3:15 PM ]

You laugh.

You laugh for so hard and so long your tears gather in the corner of your eyes. You laugh until your sides start to hurt from the absolute absurdity.

It’s so him that you have to laugh.

That night, when you fall into bed you sleep an inky black sleep, without dreams or interruptions.

It’s the best rest you’ve gotten in weeks.

************************

#jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #bangtanarmynet #bts fanfic #btssmut #bts fic

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hobeemin · 3 years

Text

Eros et Psyche - Part 2: Eros

💘 Genre: Romance, Fantasy, Adventure, Drama, s2l, Greek God myth AU

💘 Pairing: Im Jaebeom x (f) OC

💘 Rating: 18+

💘 Warning(s): swearing, alcohol consumption, doubt, feelings of uncertainty, oral (f. receiving), consensual sex, unprotected sex, breast and nipple play, multiple orgasms, jealousy

💘 Word Count: 9.5k

💘 Credits: Beta read by the marvelous @yoongsgguktae 💜 ily sis thank you

💘 Summary: A modern take on the Greek myth of Eros and Psyche.

💘 A/N: Part of The Intimacy Anthology Project hosted by @peonybane found here

< 💘 >

He did take it seriously.

Psyche sat motionless in the back of the town car as it drove her up the hill overlooking their town. After the tears, screams, and threats over the past few weeks, she finally agreed to this absurd agreement. The hill the matchmaker instructed her to be at was near one of the larger forests outside of town. Her father informed her she’d be making the journey alone. Again another round of arguments erupted, but he was stubborn. She would have to go by herself and that was the final decision.

Psyche felt highly emotional while saying her goodbyes to her father and sisters. Not knowing what the future held was frightening. From a person so used to order and schedules, this was a foreign idea. Still, she put on a neutral look and bid them all farewell with hugs and well wishes.

The car began to slow down as it approached the area. Psyche’s heartbeat hammered loud in her chest. She chewed on her bottom lip as the driver parked and opened her door for her. With a quiet thank you, she stepped out and walked over to the edge of the road. The most unusual thing about this was that she was told not to bring anything with her, no clothes, toiletries, anything.

“Everything will be provided for you.”

That didn’t settle her mind. She clutched the coat around her arms as the temperature dropped slightly. Luckily, she opted for a longer dress rather than the short Michael Kors number Jessica kept pushing her to wear.

“This isn’t a celebration. I’m grieving,” she had said.

Psyche looked around as she heard the engine die off as it turned the corner and went back down the winding path. Now she was alone. Glancing up at the sky, the clouds had blocked the view of the moon. Supposedly tonight was to be the “Rose” moon. She scoffed looking around for a place to sit. If she was being pranked, it was better for her to sit down.

A small rock big enough for her to use as a seat caught her eye. She plopped down and waited, not even a phone to use to pass the boredom. It was part of another strange request. No electronics. So she was officially alone. Then again it might have been a good thing. The young model usually avoided all social media about her, and rarely saw pictures of herself. Besides the few covers her father would save, Psyche never liked to see herself in pictures.

She hummed to herself, kicking at the pebbles by her feet. Her breath came out in cold wisps as she sighed out loud.

“This seriously has to be a joke,” she muttered to no one. “All this mystery. I bet no one will show. I’ll look silly and someone gets a free laugh. I think–”

She looked up in surprise as the moon peeked behind the clouds, a halo of pink adored its rim. She stared in wonder as the sounds of clomping came off in the distance. Her eyes widened as a team of horses pulling a pure white carriage rounded the bend towards her. The ebony sheen of their coats contrasted with the white. Her jaw dropped as it came more into view. The horses kicked at the dirt whipping their manes around. She stood up from the rock and stepped forward in shock. No one was pulling the carriage. She bent down to look under to see if it was motorized.

Nothing.

She straightened back up and gave the horse a stare.

“Am I supposed to drive you or–”

The door to the carriage swung open slowly as steps folded down. She raised her brow at the steps then back at the horses.

“You don’t expect me to get in, do you?”

The horses snorted, bobbing their heads up and down. Psyche mumbled as she stepped toward the open door of the carriage. “You’re not much help,” she taunted. The horse reared its legs grunting. “Alright, alright, I’ll get in. No need to get nasty,” she sighed climbing in.

The steps retracted and the door closed once she settled in. The carriage lurched forward as the horses began a steady trot down a path leading into the forest. The shades were drawn and even when she pulled them back, the windows were blackened with tint making it difficult for her to see outside of where she was going. By the way the carriage jerked, she could tell the path had changed drastically. She bounced in her seat as she continued the journey.

After what seemed like hours, the carriage halted making her fall forward. Psyche squeaked as she was shaken in the carriage. The door swung open once more as the steps unfolded. She peeked outside the carriage curiously.

If she had been surprised before, her expression was even more in awe. The large architectural home was a blend of rustic and modern. Large glass windows set in dark mahogany wood. A lake painted the background making the home look almost ethereal as the fog from the lake swirled around. The moonlight added to the view taking her breath away almost.

Who could live here?

She stepped out tentatively glancing around the entrance. Suddenly a group of people exited from the home and walked towards her. She stepped back near the carriage. Once they'd gotten closer, she noticed the group consisted of two women and one man. Each wore a mask that covered their face except their mouths. They bowed as soon as they reached her. The man stepped forward, dark hair upon his crown.

“Welcome Madam to Locus Manor. We are the loyal staff to your new husband. I am Anteros,” he explained, stepping back.

The closest woman to her curtsied low, strawberry blonde hair shimmering past her shoulders. “I am Harmonia, Madam, our Master gave strict instructions for us to take care of you,” she brought out a note wrapped in ribbon and held it out for her, “Please read.”

Psyche, still bewildered, took the note in her trembling hands and untied the ribbon. She glanced over the handwriting.

“To my dear Psyche, unfortunately, I cannot be here to greet you on the day of your arrival. The staff has explicit instructions to make sure your time here is comfortable. Clothes have been laid out and a meal prepared. Enjoy my love.

Always and forever,

J”

She looked up at them with a frown. “So he’s even not here to see me. What do you expect me to do?”

Another woman stepped forward with another curtsy, dark hair styled in a short bob. “Pleased to meet you, Madam. I am Adrestia, we shall get you cleaned up and ready for dinner.” She gestured towards the front doors. “If you’ll follow me.”

She felt frustrated that no one was listening to her. It was all so confusing. This mystery man “j” wasn't even there and she was to trust these people. What did he do? Why all the mystery and smoke and mirrors? For now, she’d play by their rules until she knew what was in store for her.

If the exterior surprised her, then the interior was beyond anything she’d ever imagined. They gave her a tour of the place pointing out the details. The color scheme was white with bursts of red and silver. The fronts doors led into a large open space that was considered the living room. Plush couches encircled a large fireplace. Off to the side behind double doors was the dining room. A large rectangular table sat in the middle surrounded by plush chairs. On the opposite side, a winding staircase led up to the higher floor. A concealed door opened to reveal the large kitchen decked with the latest appliances surrounding a marble island.

Harmonica took her upstairs to the master bedroom. The large king-size bed took up much of the room, it had a canopy overhead draped with silk. The maid gestured to the sliding glass doors.

“That leads to the balcony. In the morning it gives the perfect view of the lake.”

Psyche nodded seeing something catch her eye. A dress was laid out on the bed. She ran her fingers over the material gently. It was certainly more expensive than she was used to wearing.

“Ah,” Harmonica said, beginning to walk over to a large door. “This is your walk-in closet. It has everything you need.”

Psyche’s jaw dropped as she entered the closet. Racks of dresses, shirts, pants, shoes, and accessories covered the walls. “How did he know my size?”

The maid chuckled. “Master has his ways of knowing.” She stepped out of the closet beckoning Psyche to follow her. “Let's get you freshened up for dinner.”

After soaking in the large clawfoot tub, Psyche made her way down to the dining as they set the table for her. They bowed as one pulled a chair out for her to sit. They poured her wine, serving her the salad first. The two maids stood off to the side.

Psyche took small bites, chewing slowly. “Um, during the tour, I noticed a room upstairs we didn’t go into,” she wiped her mouth with a napkin staring at them. “What’s in there?”

The air suddenly grew tense as the maids gave each other a look. “Madam, we aren’t allowed in that room. It belongs to the Master.”

“Even you are forbidden from there. Please stay away,” Adrestia warned.

Psyche gave a small nod and continued her meal in silence. Everything was so strange. From the clothes fitting perfectly to her favorite dish being served. This so-called “j” was an enigma. How did he know so much about her in such a short period of time?

The dishes were cleared as Psyche let out a yawn. Anteros chuckled as he extinguished the candles around the room. “Time for bed Madam. You need your rest.”

Psyche smiled sleepily as she bid him goodnight and trudged up the stairs to her...well their bedroom. That was a silly thought. There was no more “her” only “them”, if she ever were to see him. She settled on a silk blush nightgown that tied in the back. She gave a small twirl in the mirror over her vanity.

“Not too bad.”

It was an upgrade from all the oversized shirts and shorts she wore normally. Pulling back the satin sheets, she propped the pillows up and took one from the other side of the bed to hold. With the fragrance of lavender lingering in the air, it didn’t take long for Psyche to drift off to sleep.

“Psyche. Psyche? Darling, wake up.”

Her eyes fluttered open as she looked around. She was in her bed still, the moonlight filtering in through the windows. It gave a hazy look as fog off the lake rolled in. She sat up with a start seeing a man standing at the foot of the bed. There seemed to be a glow surrounding him, making him look ethereal. Being in his presence seemed to calm her nerves as he stared at her. Dark hair framing his face, pulled back so she could see his features, sharp jawline, full lips, dark eyes that always seemed to be smiling.

She pulled her hair back off her face suddenly feeling shyness take over. “Who...who are you?”

“Anyone. It’s your dream love,” Jaebeom said with a grin. Decked in only a pair of white linen pants, low enough to bare his Adonis belt, Psyche felt lightheaded all of a sudden.

She licked her lips nervously averting her gaze. “I’m dreaming, huh.”

He chuckled with a nod. “Yes. Yes, you are.” He moved closer, sitting on the edge making sure to keep his distance. “No one can hurt you here. Least of all me.” Jaebeom’s eyes softened momentarily at the thought. “I could never wrong you, Psyche. Trust is all I ask.”

She gave a small nod as she mulled over the thought. She couldn’t feel any unusual vibes from him and something about him seemed so familiar, she just couldn’t place it.

What the heck was she thinking about so hard in a dream?

Psyche froze as she felt his fingers on her chin, tilting her face towards him.

He studied her face with a smirk. “What’s on your mind? You looked so serious all of a sudden.”

“I…” she began, meeting his eyes, entranced for a second before chuckling softly. “It’s silly and not very important,” she answered.

Jaebeom shook his head running his thumb against her cheek. “Don’t sell yourself short. You’re more important than you’ll ever know.”

Psyche leaned into his touch, the warmth from his hand radiating on her skin. It soothed her. She felt his breath against her lips as she instinctively leaned forward.

“Psyche–”

“Kiss me,” she whispered. Opening her eyes to look at him, she purred softly. “Please. There’s nothing else I want more.”

He gulped, feeling his heart hammer in his chest. Exhaling the breath he held, Jaebeom cupped her face moving closer. His nose nuzzling against her cheek as he trembled. “You never have to ask my love.”

Jaebeom began placing light butterfly kisses along her neck, shoulders, and collar. Psyche closed her eyes letting out a breathy moan. There was almost a calculation in his movements but still passionate. Jaebeom wanted to make her feel good and needed this for himself. It seemed like an eternity had gone by since he last saw her. He craved to be close. Moving his lips to her throat, his teeth grazed her pulse points causing her to gasp out. Psyche didn’t know what to do with her hands, eventually resting them on his shoulders. Nails digging into his flesh as he worshipped her body.

He was teasing her, never actually meeting her lips. Jaebeom took his time, relishing in the moment of just being with her. Her moans only heightened his desire for her. The growing warmth that surrounded him couldn't be sated. He opened his eyes meeting her gaze. A dull moan passed his lips before his tongue dragged against her bottom lip. The motion made Psyche jump, warming her core.

So erotic in nature, his eyes were full of lust. She pressed her body against his needing to be close. He gladly obliged, finally placing a kiss on her lips. So light it almost didn’t feel like it was there. But he was testing the waters, making sure each move was approved by her. Seeing that she was okay, Jaebeom pressed his lips firmly on hers. Psyche melted into the kiss as it grew heavy. His lips danced with her, one hand venturing to wrap around her waist touching the small on her back and the other cupping her cheek.

His tongue grew impatient pushing against her mouth wanting a taste. With the slightest hesitation, she opened her mouth partially as he delved in, devouring her. Psyche let out the lowest of whimpers, her body weight shifting, needing something to anchor her in place, wanting to release.

Jaebeom reluctantly pulled away as both their bodies demanded oxygen. Chest heaving, he leaned against her, chin propped on her head. He bent down leaving the gentlest of kisses on her forehead as he wrapped both his arms around her frame. Psyche took this time to consider the possibilities of this dream. It felt so real. His lips, his hands, every touch on her body felt like fire.

Jaebeom noticed how quiet she was and moved to pull her chin to stare at him. He checked her eyes carefully. “Still with me?”

Psyche’s lips spread into a smile as she nodded. “Yes.”

He smiled back giving her a quick peck on the lips. “Good.” Once said, the desire in his eyes returned as he raked over her body. The nightgown did little to cover her modesty. Her nipples strained against the fabric, stiff. His Adam’s apple jumped at the sight. His fingers traveled up her arm caressing her skin as he went until he reached her shoulder. Maintaining eye contact, his fingers slid under the straps of her nightgown and tugged. Psyche let out a soft gasp as the air made contact with her nipples. Already erect, it became almost painful. She whimpered looking at him with pleading eyes.

Jaebeom reached out as his hand and cupped her breast, running his thumb across the peak. Psyche hissed as she tilted her head back exposing her neck. He wet his lips as he watched her movements, switching from the light to firm touches, pinching her nipples, tugging and rolling them between her fingers. Psyche gripped his bicep so she wouldn’t fall backward. He took his time, torturing her with the pleasure and pain alternating. He bent down placing light kisses on her neck to calm her.

“Lie down,” he instructed in between kisses. Psyche obeyed as she fell back against the pillows. He tugged at the hem of her nightgown pulling it down her body. She lifted her hips up helping him to remove it easily. Once off, he threw it aside leaving her only in what looked like lace panties. Jaebeom stirred gazing at her longingly.

“You’re beautiful,” he said in a hushed tone.

Psyche closed her eyes as her cheeks tinted with pink. Embarrassed by his words, she couldn't look at him. He bent forward caging her between his arms hovering over her breasts, quite enamored by the shape and dips. His breath warm on her skin caused goosebumps to form. Lips parted, his tongue dragged across one of the stiff peaks before suckling on it gently. His tongue swirled around, a hum on his lips making the vibration wrack her body.

Psyche let out a needy moan, squirming underneath him, her nails massaged his scalp, afraid he’d disappear if she couldn’t maintain body contact. Clenching her thighs together, she felt the throb, a sensation she hadn’t felt in so long. He barely touched her and by now she knew her arousal had soaked through her panties. Jaebeom switched between her breasts, groping the other as he gave equal attention, darting his tongue up to lap at it.

His eyes scanned her reactions, quite pleased with it. The sounds she made only made him want her more. All he could think about was pleasing her, worshipping the woman before him. Plucking his lips from her breasts with a soft pop, his eyes now blown out with lust, he glanced downward at her womanhood. Psyche’s legs parted instinctively as he stared. A guttural moan passed his lips as he noticed the damp spot on her panties.

“May I–” his voice now rasped, “have a taste?”

She shivered all over giving him an incline of her head. Jaebeom let out a hitched breath as he jerked her lingerie off carelessly tossing them across the bed. The fragrant smell of her cunt sent him into a stupor. He grabbed a stray pillow, positioning it in under her head to support her neck.

“Comfortable?” he asked once she was settled.

“Very, but–” Psyche bit down on her lip. “You never told me what your name was.”

Jaebeom winked, tracing his fingers on her thighs. “Psyche, I’m whatever you want me to be,” he crooned, crawling down to the end of the bed until he was eye level with her mound. “Right now, I am a man in desperate need to show you what it feels like to be worshipped.” He passed a chaste kiss on her thigh as a helpless whimper passed her lips. “Can I do that for you, Psyche?”

The back of her fingers brushed his cheek. The look in her eyes was enough to get the message across. Jaebeom hooked his arms underneath her thighs trailing kisses towards the treasure that awaited him. He pressed his hand against her mound gently pulling her pussy lips apart. The strings of arousal dripped down coating her thighs. Psyche wiggled in his grasp, anxious as he stared at her cunt. His tongue found her clit easily as he finally tasted her.

And what a feast it was. Head buried between her thighs he devoured her with no hesitation, tongue lapping at her relentlessly. Psyche’s fingers gripped at his dark hair, anchoring him in place. Jaebeom wouldn’t have moved even if he tried. His only focus was her. A finger joined his tongue, coaxing out more of her melodious sounds that rang out in the bedroom. Sweat rolled down her body as her hips bucked forward chasing the high. Her core gripped his fingers as her body readied for an orgasm. Her pants and moans grew louder as she raised up her hips, teeth-gritting as a sudden wave crashed over her. She sought his free hand, gripping it tightly.

“M-My Eros,” she shrieked, eyes shut as she rutted her hips against his face. The orgasm rocked through her body making her convulse.

Jaebeom stopped dead as he drew away from her pussy, lips coated and glazed with the traces of her desire. “What did you say?”

Psyche’s lids flickered open as their eyes connected. Flushed, she looked away. Still shivering from the sheer force of her climax. Her chest heaved as she tried to keep her movements still from oversensitivity.

“It was the first thing that came to my mind,” she whispered out between catching her breath.

Jaebeom groaned, staring at her with eyes full of devotion. “Call me that.” He detached himself unwillingly from her thighs and sat up. Psyche was already in a haze from the pleasure, she could barely move an inch. He laid next to her, brushing the hair off her face. Soft words of praise lingered on his lips as he held her. Psyche rested her head against his chest letting his heartbeat soothe her.

Once she was able to regain some strength, Psyche moved her fingers to interlock with his. Jaebeom pressed his lips to her hands with a soft smile. “Tired yet?”

Psyche shivered against him with a nod. “I-I need you E-Eros. More than anything right now.” Her body began reacting to being so close to his. Jaebeom grunted low, eyes cast down at her nude form. He kissed her again before getting off the bed. Psyche noticed the strain of his erection against his pants. A clear patch already forming from the precum that leaked.

Jaebeom untied the strings from his pants plucking the waistband from around his hips. His cock springing from its confines as he let out a low hiss, relieved from the pressure. Psyche gulped at his size. He was lengthy, the shaft wide but not extremely girthy, veins punctuating down his length, the head swollen with tinges of red–the precum glossing the slit.

He fisted his shaft, pumping his erection without much effort as he watched her lay outstretched across the mattress. He grabbed her legs and swung them over the edge of the bed, parting them as he stood between them. He caressed her cheek bending forward and lined himself against her entrance. While he wanted to take things slow, Jaebeom fought the urge to plunge deep inside her. Breathing hard through his nose, he met her gaze.

“Psyche,” he moaned faintly. “Are you ready?”

She writhed against him entangling her legs around his waist from her position. “just do it Eros, please...no more teasing,” she begged.

Jaebeom closed his eyes momentarily before glancing at her. One hand on her hip and the other guiding himself in. She tensed at the pressure and Jaebeom began messaging her sides.

“It’s okay. Relax. I won’t do more until you're ready love.”

“N-No,” she breathed, giving him a purr. “K-Keep going. I’m alright.”

He smiled, kissing her once more as he pushed inch by inch of his length past her folds, surging from the sensation of how her walls clung to his shaft. He took his time, whispering words of care as she grew accustomed to him until he bottomed out. Jaebeom stilled as he leaned forward nuzzling against her cheek.

She wrapped her arms around him whimpering at his size. Psyche was grateful he remained still as she relaxed against him. She let out an airy plea as he planted kisses on her neck. Her nails dug into his back, squirming under him.

“E-Eros, do it,” she cried. “Move, now.”

Jaebeom suckled a spot on her neck groaning with each squirm. He raised his hips as he pulled out until only the tip remained and plunged in deep.

It knocked the wind from her chest. She felt so full. Shuddering as her eyes rolled back. He thrust deep but slow, rotating his hips as they connected. Psyche locked her ankles, gripping him tighter against her body. He was deep and she could feel him brush her cervix. He kissed the tears away off her cheeks as they pooled down.

Raking his hand through her hair his eyes softened. “I love you,” he croaked out, focusing on his pace.

Through teary eyes, she sobbed, “I love you too.”

She grabbed the back of his head crashing her lips against him. “Ravish me.”

Jaebeom didn’t need any convincing. His tongue wrapped around hers tasting the caverns of her mouth as he picked up speed. Bracing himself against the mattress he delved deeper, snapping his hips against hers. Grunts spewing forth as he gripped her hips anchoring himself in place. Psyche grabbed the duvet, holding on as she cried out, his balls slapping hard against her ass.

Only the sounds of their lovemaking ringing out in the quiet of the room.

“I-I’m close love,” he stammered, slowing down until he just grinded his hips. Psyche dragged her nails down his back making him wince. He suddenly rolled over until he was on his back with Psyche straddling him. She paused adjusting to the new position on top of him. He cupped her breast squeezing around the glob of flesh.

“I want to watch you climax,” he groaned.

Psyche could feel her body aching to release. She placed her hands palms down on his chest as she started to bounce on top of his dick. She hissed each time she came down on him, moaning out, frustrated with the need to cum. Jaebeom wrapped his arms around her waist helping her move, wanting to feel her, be joined with her. The knot in her abdomen loosened as she quivered above him. Through gritted teeth, Jaebeom knew he wouldn’t last long.

“F-Fuck Psyche. Cum for me, love.”

He teased her clit, flicking against it for added sensation. That was the last straw. Psyche threw her head back as her mouth opened but no sound came out. The silent shriek racked her body as she convulsed on him. Her cunt gripped him like a vice. Jaebeom sat up holding on to her so she wouldn’t fall over. He switched their positions once more as he chased his own orgasm through hers, not too far along as he thrust. She held onto him, her teeth biting his shoulder as another orgasm shook through her body once he came. Jaebeom hissed out her name as he painted her walls, freezing over her until his thrusts came to a stop.

With care, he shifted until he was on his side holding her close. Both breathing hard, not wanting to make any sudden moves. He gazed down at her, kissing her temple as he brushed the damp hair from her face.

“You look even more beautiful.”

Psyche blushed looking away and she swatted his hand away playfully. “Beautiful? More like sweaty and disheveled.”

He clasped her chin, lifting it up, pecking her lips. “Yes, the most gorgeous creature I've ever laid eyes on. And all mine.” He reached under the pillow and brought out a small box. With some effort, he opened it to reveal two rings. One fashioned in diamonds and garnet stones and the other wrapped in silver with diamonds and garnets in the middle. He beamed sliding the jewelry onto her left ring finger.

“Forever mine,” he purred. He placed the matching ring in her hand as she slipped it onto him. “Forever yours,” she echoed staring at him.

Her cheeks flushed and her stomach fluttered as he kissed her once more. All his. She couldn't help but wonder about the mystery j. This wasn’t really cheating. It was only a dream after all.

Nuzzling against him, she interlocked her fingers with his as she drifted off to sleep content by the gentle strokes of his fingers on her back.

^^^

The sounds of the birds chirping stirred Psyche from her sleep. She murmured as her body became alert as she began to wake. Covering her eyes from the sunshine washing over the room, she could make out to see Harmonica opening the doors to the balcony.

She turned giving a curtsy. “Good morning Madam. How did you sleep?”

Psyche wiggled under the comforter with a sleepy smile. “I slept...well better than I have in ages,” she answered sitting up.

The maid turned away with a giggle. “Oh, Madam, there’s a robe by your bed for you to use.”

Psyche chuckled. “Nonsense, I–” she looked down to see that she was nude. With a squeal, she covered herself up blushing profusely. “Oh! I–”

How did her clothes get removed? Harmonia rushed to put out her outfit and ran to the door. “Breakfast will be ready by the time you freshen up. just call me if you need anything!”

Psyche watched as she practically ran off. Shaking her head in disbelief, she wiggled into the silk robe and went into the bathroom. Further inspection showed she had hickeys littered over her skin. She froze bringing her hand up to her face. The ring.

She jumped back as she removed it and placed it on the sink.

What had happened that night before? She combed her mind for any details, only concluding that it must have been one hell of a dream.

But it felt so real. His hands, lips, everything about it. She mumbled to herself turning the showerhead on. Dreams weren’t real. It was silly to think otherwise. Yet, as she stepped out of the robe and into the shower letting the water cascade down her frame, nothing about this place seemed ‘normal’.

Psyche washed quickly and put on the outfit laid out for her: dark denim jeans and a white tank with a loose black duster. She walked down the stairs just as they finished setting the table for her. The staff greeted her as she took a seat, being served from the numerous dishes on the tables.

All for her. It was quite a change of scenery having been used to seeing her family surrounding the table. She smiled to herself thinking of all the breakfasts her father would cook for them. Her sisters bickering over the fruit. She missed the chaos, regardless if it drove her crazy. They were still her family. A twinge in her heart made her tear up.

Clearing her throat, Psyche settled on a bowl of fruit and toast with a glass of orange juice. Nibbling on a corner of the toast—slathered in butter and strawberry jam—she looked around the place now that it was light out. Still as beautiful as ever. The sunlight seemed to make the place glow. The metal finishing almost looked like molten gold.

Anteros came in with a package, bringing her from her thoughts. "For you Madam, from the Master,” he explained holding a note for her to take.

Psyche thanked him for opening the note to read over the writing.

“Good morning my dear wife. Again, I regret not being able to be in your presence. Here is a gift for you, something for you to capture the beauty of what life has to offer.”

Psyche unwrapped the gift to reveal one of the latest digital camera models. She smiled to herself holding it with care. She glanced at the butler in surprise. “How did he know I liked to photograph?”

“Master has his ways,” he said airily. “Enjoy your day.” Psyche ran her fingers over the camera looking out at the lake.

After breakfast, she walked outside, camera in one hand as she explored the property. They were right, the lake looked absolutely stunning in the early morning fog. She was thankful for the duster as it kept off the chill.

The only sounds were the wildlife flitting about. With amusement she watched a family of rabbits hop around the meadow nibbling at clover. She snapped a quick picture as they paused, noses wiggling under the grass.

Psyche ventured towards a gazebo near the lake. She plopped down on one of the benches sniffing the flowers that decorated the rails. Bursts of reds, yellows, oranges, and purples of the daylilies came alive on her camera screen. Just as she clicked the button, a hummingbird appeared in the viewfinder searching for nectar. It was truly a sight to see.

Everything seemed so calm by the lake. Content by the buzz in the air, her eyelids grew heavy as she fell asleep drooping against the rail.

^^^

Who knew how much time passed as one of the maids came upon her sleeping and roused her awake gently.

“Madam?”

Psyche yawned as she stretched her limbs. With blurry vision, she squinted at Adrestia rubbing her eyes. “W-What time is it?”

“Half-past noon,” she answered, helping her up.

Psyche stood more a moment getting her bearings. “That long?”

“Yes, it's time for lunch. Let’s get you some tea. It’s chilly out here by the water. You’ll catch a cold.” Adrestia fussed at Psyche leading her back inside. She sat back down at the dining room table as they made her some herbal tea to sip on while lunch was being fixed.

The chamomile tea warmed her to the bones as she rested against the arm of the chair. Psyche shivered in her seat. Maybe being out there that long wasn’t the smartest idea. Anteros served a bowl of vegetable soup, placing it in front of her.

“Enjoy Madam.”

Psyche gave him a smile of reassurance as she sipped the broth. She sniffed between swallows as fatigue set in. With a groan, she pushed the soup aside, too exhausted to eat. Harmonia entered to check on her, tsking as she felt Psyche’s forehead.

“You’re running warm Madam. Let’s get you upstairs to rest.”

Anteros assisted with helping her up the stairs and getting her into bed. Psyched sighed into the mattress as it enveloped her. She cuddled further under the blankets as they made sure she was comfortable. “We’ll come check on you later Madam to see if you are better.”

Psyche nodded off to sleep just as the lights dimmed.

The afternoon slowly changed to dusk and her temperature only worsened. Psyche's body shivered all over as she was drenched in sweat. Muttering in a fitful sleep, she whimpered. Nothing seemed to break her fever and the staff worried about what their Master would do if they knew she was like this.

Jaebeom appeared as the sun set, worried about her state. His staff had sent word to him about Psyche and he rushed home to help care for her. He placed a cold compress on her forehead as he held her hand, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on her skin. Fear crossed his face. She looked troubled in her sleep. What could he do? Hopefully, Jackson received his correspondence. Only he would know what to do.

Psyche whimpered in her sleep, “Papi, come back, please...sisters…I...I miss you.”

Jaebeom frowned as the realization sunk in. She missed her family. He felt selfish keeping her away from them, but they’d never be able to come here. For their safety and hers. It would be dangerous. He shuddered to think what his mother would do if she found this is where he hid her away. He noticed the absence of her ring and scowled. Adrestia entered with more cold water in a basin and Jaebeom turned to glare at her.

“Where’s her ring?”

She pulled it from her pocket and tossed it to him with a look of annoyance. “She left it by the sink in the bathroom.”

He mumbled, ignoring her, and slipped it back on Psyche’s finger. “Why’d she take it off?” he asked rhetorically.

“Don’t be daft brother. You know the answer,” she huffed, setting the basin down on the dresser. “Jackson just arrived. Shall I bring him up?”

“Uh-huh,” he said, more to himself.

Adrestia sighed, exiting the bedroom. Moments later Jackson glanced over at Jaebeom. He shook his head stepping closer. “I got your note,” he began. “What’s wrong? I was in the middle of something.”

Jaebeom turned, looking stricken with grief. “She’s ill and her fever won’t break.”

Jackson frowned stepping closer. “Get up,” he ordered as Jaebeom stood but kept a hold of her hand. Jackson closed his eyes and swept his hand across her body. Furrowing his brow he looked over at Jaebeom with a crooked grin. “She’ll be fine. It's just a rough bout of the flu.” He flicked his hand as a pouch appeared. “Place the powder in a drink. She’ll sweat it out over the next few days.”

Jaebeom sighed deeply, taking the pouch. “Thanks, Jackson.”

The God of the Sun smiled, clapping a hand on his shoulder. Giving him a once over, the frown settled back on his face. “What else is troubling you?”

Jaebeom nibbled his bottom lip detaching his hand from her as he began to pace. “She’s lonely. She calls for her family in her sleep. But I can’t have them here. Too much exposure would bring attention to my mother.” He stopped combing through his hair. “What should I do?”

Jackson exhaled heavily. “I think you should consider what will make her happy the most. I don’t think one visit would cause harm. just set precautions to be sure.” He smirked with a shrug. “It will put her at ease.”

Jaebeom nodded as he watched Psyche sleep. His fingers lingered on her cheek with a sigh, resolution crossed his as he settled into the decision. After a moment he gave a hum. “Alright, thanks I appreciate the medicine and advice.”

“Sure thing. Good luck,” Jackson waved as he shimmered away.

Adrestia peeked her head in once Jaebeom was alone once more. “Everything alright?”

Jaebeom held up the pouch. “Mix this with some tea,” he ordered, eyes back on Psyche.

She took the pouch, walking out the door once more. “Be back soon.”

It didn’t take long for her to return with a steaming cup of tea. Propping her up, Jaebeom held Psyche, tilting the cup towards her lips. “Psyche, drink.”

Through her deliria, Psyche’s lips parted as the warm liquid slid down, coating her throat. Her body tingled as the medicine worked its way through her system. She coughed suddenly, groaning in her semi-conscious state. It didn’t take long for her to fall back to sleep. As Jaebeom combed his fingers through her hair, she let out a content sigh snuggling against his hand.

He stayed like that with her the remainder of the night and into the coming days. After a few days, her fever broke and he knew he wouldn't be able to be near her once she woke. As dawn approached on the third day, Jaebeom sat up begrudgingly leaving her side. He could make out the early morning ray’s peak from behind the trees. The sunlight filtering into the room made almost a halo glow around her. He couldn’t believe how breathtaking she looked. Knowing time grew short, he kissed the back of her hand just as he disappeared from the room.

Psyche rolled onto her side frowning as the space beside her was now empty. She grew more alert moving her hand to the spot noting the warmth still there. Her eyes finally opened as she realized she was alone once again. Sadness crossed her face recalling the sweet dreams of her Eros.

Harmonica entered after a soft knock and smiled warmly at her. “It’s lovely to see you up, Madam. How do you feel?”

Psyche sighed, rubbing her eyes of sleep, and propped herself against the pillows. “Better than I did a few days ago.”

Harmonia walked over to pull the curtains aside. “Would you like to take your breakfast in bed or downstairs?”

“Up here is fine,” Psyche answered, still occupied in her thoughts.

It wasn't until the three staff members served her breakfast that she decided to go with her plan. They must have known who slept beside her the past few nights. Seen him even. This J still hadn’t made an appearance and she was getting restless in the house being alone.

As Anteros poured her tea, she met his gaze. “Where is my ‘husband’? Have you seen him around? Surely he doesn’t think I should be alone here.

They gave each other knowing looks. “The Master has–”

“Yes! You’ve said it before. He has his reasons,” she snapped back. Taking a few breaths, Psyche gave them an apologetic look. “I-I’m sorry. I just miss my family.” She pushed away the tray getting out of bed and went out to the balcony closing the door behind her.

Adrestia scowled removing the tray as she cut her eyes to her siblings. They left Psyche upstairs as they went back into the kitchen. “He needs to figure something out. It’s getting exhausting lying to her every single day.”

Harmonia shook her head as she cleaned the dishes. “She’s not going to stop asking questions. We have to figure something out.”

Anteros slammed the cabinet close as he rounded on his sisters. “We don’t have to figure anything out. That’s his shit to sort. We’ll only add to the problem.” His shoulder slumped as he leaned against the counter. “Besides, if he loves her so much, he’ll find a way.”

“Excuse me,” Psyche said, entering the kitchen. They all jumped, faces paled at her arrival. Once she’d been able to calm, she thought of a way to contact J. Maybe this would help her get to understand him.

She gripped the paper in her hand and set it on the counter. “I-I wrote him a letter. Maybe he’ll understand how I’m feeling after reading it.”

Psyche bit her lip shuffling her feet on the floor. “Can you please give it to him?” She fiddled with the ring on her hand as she looked down.

Anteros let a grin spread across his face as he bowed. “Yes, Madam. We’ll be sure the Master gets it.”

“Thank you,” she replied, giving them each a nod and left to go back upstairs.

Harmonia sighed in relief looking at them. “You think she heard any of it?”

Adrestia shrugged. “If she did, she’s got a good poker face.”

^^^

Another day passing into night. Psyche spent the day walking the trail around the lake. The fresh air was a godsend after being inside the house the last few days. Hopefully, he received her message. Once dinner finished–solo as usual–she readied for bed soaking in the bathtub and changed into another set of pajamas, a pair of silk shorts, and a tank top.

She would have been lying if she wasn’t looking forward to seeing him in her dreams again. He’d become something of a confidante, a lover even. She felt a pang in her chest as she closed her eyes. Only her dreams weren’t real life.

But he returned whispering promises of love and devotion.

She felt his hands wrap around her middle, pulling her close, her back pressed against his chest. His lips easily finding her shoulder trailing butterfly kisses. Psyche sighed into touch, eyes still shut.

“Another round? I don’t think I have the strength,” she giggled.

Jaebeom smirked against her skin, tickling her stomach gently. “I’m insatiable,” he teased, cuddling closer. “I’ll let you rest for now.”

Psyche opened her eyes as she felt his breathing slow. She shifted causing Jaebeom to rouse from his nap. Frowning, he sat up leaning over to see her expression. “Love, what’s wrong?”

Psyche exhaled avoiding his gaze but he wouldn’t let up until she stared back. “I-I just feel so lonely here.”

Jaebeom’s heart sank. He pulled away to run a hand through his hair. He had gotten her note earlier in the day, Anteros made sure of that. Psyche poured her heart into the note, expressing her unhappiness about being by herself. How she truly missed being around her family. Though he couldn’t tell her he knew about her letter.

“Why do you feel lonely, Psyche?”

She rotated to look at him fully. “I-I cherish our time together, but it's only confined to this–my mind. I sit around wishing for someone, who still hasn’t appeared before me.” Tears welled in her eyes as they trickled down. Jaebeom used his thumb to wipe them away.

“What do you want? Truly?”

Psyche sniffed as she leaned into his touch. “I want to see my family again,” she let out a teary laugh shaking her head, “They drive me absolutely mad, but I still love them despite what they do.”

He kissed her lips and sighed pulling her into his lap. Psyche rested her head on his shoulder as he rocked her to sleep. Her eyes dropped snuggled close to him. When her breathing deepened and Jaebeom was sure she wouldn’t wake, he placed her under the covers. As the sun began to rise, he gave a reluctant nod.

“Very well. If this is what will bring a smile to your face, I’ll grant your wish Psyche.”

He placed the note on her vanity before taking his leave. Something unsettled him. As if this was something he would regret. A darkness loomed over his face, but he only wanted Psyche to be happy. This would make things better.

How wrong he was.

^^^

Psyche busied herself straightening the living room, making sure fresh flowers replaced the older ones in the vases around the room. She felt a weight lifted from her chest. The previous morning she received a letter from J. In it, he granted her request for her to see her family. His stipulation:

“They can only visit for one day.”

One day seemed so short, but at least she would get to see them. She sent word out to her family inviting them out to the lake house. They were coming today, and if she was being honest, Psyche was nervous. She thought about what they would think of this arrangement. She pushed her concerns to the back of her mind as she checked on the lunch Harmonia was preparing all morning.

“Is everything almost ready?”

“Yes, Madam. The meat just needs to be grilled, but everything is ready,” she answered.

Psyche gave a reassuring smile as she willed herself not to pace across the floor. Her ears strained as the door opened.

Anteros entered giving a short bow. “They’ve arrived, Madam.”

Her heart thumped in anticipation just as Victoria and Jessica entered. The sisters shrieked running over to squeeze Psyche into a large group hug. Psyche stumbled back holding them gingerly. As they pulled away to give her air, her brows knotted in confusion. “Where’s father?”

Jessica scoffed, putting her hands on her hips. “That’s all you can say? It’s been almost a month and you only worry about father.”

Victoria patted Psyche’s hand warmly. “He wanted to be here, but he’s away on business overseas.”

“Oh,” Psyche hid her disappointment. As much as she cared for her sisters, she wanted to see her father. Call her a daddy’s girl, but she needed him here as well.

Jessica circled the room with genuine interest. “So this is where you've been. We didn’t know what to expect. After dad came home, we for sure thought you got kidnapped or sold.”

Victoria chuckled nervously. “How about a tour Psyche? I’m dying to see the lake.”

Psyche pressed her lips together as she glared at Jessica. Same old attitude. Bitter. She took Victoria’s hand tugging it to the patio deck. “Sure. Let me show you everything,” she looked over her shoulder at Jessica with a hum. “C’mon, I think you’ll like it too.”

And they did.

Envy swept across her sisters' faces as Psyche led them around the manor, pointing out all j had–from the latest appliances and equipment to the sheer vastness of the estate. Psyche finished the tour by the lake as they would be having lunch near the gazebo. Anteros manned the grill as Adrestia and Harmonia finished setting the table for them. Jessica sat as she held a wine glass up to be filled. Harmonia filled their glasses as the food was served. The staff disappeared giving the sisters alone time.

Victoria chatted happily, still impressed by the place Psyche now lived in. “Psyche, your home is beautiful,” she gushed.

Jessica huffed as she sipped her wine eyeing Psyche from the rim of her glass. “I’m curious though. When do we get to meet this mystery man?” She looked around with a frown. “How does he afford all this?”

Psyche choked on her wine giving them a nonchalant shrug. “I-I’m not too sure. We–” she mumbled while taking another sip.

Jessica leaned forward glaring. “What was that?”

Pink tinged Psyche’s cheek as she stared at the salad on her plate. “I haven’t met him yet.”

The oldest sister crossed her arms. “What do you mean you haven’t met him?” She gave her a stare, her voice dangerously low. “Psyche–”

Psyche glanced away biting her lip. “Er...not met per se, but I get notes from him every morning–”

Jessica hissed slamming her glass down as wine spilled on the table soaking the tablecloth. “How daft can you be Psyche? I was sure you were the most intelligent of us three, but you’re just as dumb as Victoria.”

“Hey!” Victoria shot Jessica a look and went over to comfort Psyche. She knelt down in front of her holding her hands. “Honey, do you know anything about him? It seems unusual you’ve yet to see him.”

Psyche felt her lip tremble as her throat tightened. “He’s been nothing but cordial and welcoming to me. Yes, I know it's a little odd we haven’t, but I don’t think he would do me any harm.”

Jessica fumed, still gesturing wildly to the home. “Don’t tell me you've been this disillusioned by the splendor. For all, you know he could be a killer, a psycho, old and creepy, or some sick joke!” Chest heaving, Jessica calmed as she gave Psyche a sticky sweet smile reaching across to hold her hand. Victoria sat up on the bench to hold their younger sister.

“We’re not doing this to be cruel, we only want what's best for you,” Jessica cooed.

Victoria pressed a kiss to the top of Psyche’s head, squeezing her gently. “We’re worried about you Psyche. just be careful, love.”

“What should I do?” she whispered trembling as Victoria smoothed her hair down.

Jessica sighed and got up to join her on the bench. She pulled something from her purse. Psyche looked taken aback as the silver gleamed in the sunlight. The knife had a beautiful ornate handle as small gems decorated the helm. The blade, while small, still looked deadly.

“Find out what he is hiding from you. Take this to protect yourself,” she instructed.

Psyche felt numb. Was she being naïve? Were they right about everything? How was she supposed to be married to someone she never laid eyes on. Without a sound, she took the blade, concealing it in her back pocket.

They finished lunch with Psyche remaining silent throughout. The sisters chatted adamantly to each other about the food and the skills of the staff, but it went on deaf ears. As they left, she hugged them each, wishing them a safe journey home as they loaded into their car. She waved them off as the car disappeared around the bend.

Psyche felt more lonely now than ever, a heavyweight on her chest and dark clouds looming over her head. The knife still in her back pocket, she couldn’t help but feel saddened. She rested against the front door till in her thoughts.

Harmonia poked her head out of the kitchen, giving her a smile. “Enjoy your sisters' visit?”

Psyche bobbed her head practically running for the stairs. “Yes. Thank you for cooking an amazing lunch!”

Harmonia gave her a curious glance before going back into the kitchen.

She remained in her room pacing about, letting the staff know she didn’t want to be disturbed. Psyche ran the plan through her mind for the hundredth time. It seemed fairly simple: she’d sneak into the room in the east wing and look around. He had to be hiding something. She stared at the knife on her bed. It would only be for protection. Psyche had also snatched a candle from one of the drawers downstairs just in case.

She grabbed the knife and the candle, slipping them in her back pocket, and walked out into the hallway. Her ears strained for sounds. All she could hear was Harmonia and Adrestia chattering in the kitchen. Anteros offered to drive her sisters home, so he would be gone for some time. This gave her maybe a half hour before they would try to get her to have dinner.

Psyche walked slowly towards the east wing. Though it matched the interior design, she felt something strange in the air. She couldn’t place her finger on it but only her curiosity made her venture on. The door at the end of the hallway loomed closer. With bated breath, she gripped the knob and turned. Much to her surprise, the door was unlocked.

Her eyebrow raised. For a room she was forbidden to enter, it seemed strange that the door would be open. Shoving her anxiety aside, Psyche pushed the door as it creaked slowly on the hinges. With enough room to squeeze in, she closed the door behind her as the room filled with shadows. Psyche exhaled softly in the darkness. Fumbling with a match, she struck it against the door and lit the candle. The small flame embraced her with warmth and a glow. Not giving off much light, she held it out in front to lead her around. Every few steps she stumbled having no luck finding a switch. So far from what she could see, nothing stood out. She made out a dresser and mirror in the corner.

How curious. Did someone live here?

just then a snore cut into the darkness, almost making her scream. Psyche clutched her chest before grabbing the knife from her pocket.

Who’s in here?!

She stepped with caution towards the sound and saw a couch. Not noticing much around her, she tripped against a small table. With a muffled cry, she dropped the knife trying to catch the case that fell. Psyche winced as something poked her hand as she grabbed the objects placing them back on the table. Her body tingled with warmth. Crouched down, she grabbed the candle, noticing she was close to the source of the sound.

With her face covered in a sheen of sweat, trembling hands held out the candle. What she saw made her almost cry out.

He laid there asleep, curled against a pillow. Dressed only in pajama pants, she could see the definition on his muscles. Dark hair fanned around him. That chin, those lips...wait were those wings?! It was him! The man from her dreams. Eros!

Psyche jerked back as she tripped forward, the candle sliding from her hand as it dropped on his arm.

Jaebeom opened his eyes with a painful shout, his wings spreading out as he jumped back holding his injured arm. Meeting her gaze, gloom washed over his face.

“You–” he said, voice hoarse with sleep.

Psyche, still shaken up, didn't realize she had pricked herself on his darts. The tingling she felt earlier increased.

“Y-You’re him,” she whispered.

Jaebeom held back a wince as the burn grew worse. “That’s beside the point. You broke my trust, Psyche.”

“B-But I-I–”

Her heart sank as he turned away from her, his wings concealing him. “I only asked one thing of you. You were to not enter the east wing under any circumstance.” He choked back a sob. “Now we can’t be together.”

“Wait, please Eros–” She reached to hold his hand.

He jerked away, swatting her hand from him. “Don’t touch me. You lost those privileges to call me that name.”

She stepped back hurt, clutching her hand as her eyes welled with tears. “Please, I’m sorry.”

“It’s too late,” he stepped away. “I loved you, Psyche, but you betrayed me.”

She sank to the floor as a light cast in the room surrounding him. And then he was gone.

19 notes · View notes

guccybangtan · 4 years

Text

keep going - jung hoseok x reader x park jimin

pairing; hoseok x reader x jimin

genre; smut, college au, frat au;

rating; 18+

disclaimers; threesome (hickies/neck kissing, palming, mxm kissing, penetrative sex, blow job/dick sucking, face fucking (its pretty mild), nipple play, hoseok gives off dom vibes but its subtle, hoseok fucks y/n and she's dating jimin (totally consensual Jimin’s there its a vibe) Let me know if somethings missing;

word count; 2.6k

a/n; this was commissioned by an anonymous donor through ChangesWithLuv in support of the Black Lives Matter movement

listen to: whatever sexy song you want, I listened to daddy issues (slowed w reverb) on repeat solely bc I liked the vibes;

“Just come with me to the party this one time! Please, baby girl,” Jimin begged you. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

His words were punctuated by a wiggle of his eyebrows, signature toothy smirk on full display as his eyes formed mini crescents.

You had been in a relationship with Jimin for the better part of two years, having originally met during Intro to Chemistry. It had been the first day of the semester and you, regretfully, were placed in the 8 am class.

You were taken aback when Jimin and all his energy plopped into the seat next to you, slamming his books and coffee onto the table, effectively deeming himself your lab partner for the entirety of the first semester.

While you dreaded attending Intro to Chem in the beginning, you found yourself looking more and more forward to it as time went by, beginning to enjoy the time spent with your new friend.

Jimin may have been a bit strange, but he was actually quite endearing.

He started bringing you coffee from the campus cafe when he stopped for his own, swearing you looked like the walking dead every time he saw you. He also looked at you like you held the stars in your eyes when you explained molar calculations to him, claiming ‘’no matter how hard I try Professor Robertson just doesn’t make any sense!’’

You knew something was up when Jimin walked into class empty-handed one morning, but all of the pieces clicked into place when he held you back after class was dismissed.

“I know things were a little weird in the beginning, but I really enjoy your company,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Would you maybe, I dunno, wanna come grab a coffee with me? Get to know each other outside of chemistry?”

Of course you’d agreed, and the two of you walked hand in hand down to the cafe, giggling like teenagers as you stared at each other over the lips of your cups.

That one date turned into two, which turned into four, which turned into Jimin asking you to be his girlfriend a few weeks later.

Even though you said yes, you’d had your reservations. Early on in your courtship, you’d learned Jimin was a part of Bangtan, the fraternity known to throw the most crazy rager parties. How this fact had escaped you the first 8 weeks of you knowing him, you weren’t sure why, but now that you did know it made you nervous.

“Why does me being in Bangtan make you nervous?” Jimin asked you over coffee one morning after class.

“It’s just- the reputation your frat holds.” You shrugged like that explained everything.

“Care to enlighten me?” Jimin was perched on the edge of his seat, acting as if you were about to tell him the juiciest bit of drama all year.

“That you all fuck anything with legs just to get your dick wet.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Is that why you think I’m after you?” Tongue in cheek, Jimin cocked his eyebrow, looking almost bored as you threw these accusations at him.

“Well... No. Not you.” You shivered under his intense gaze. You’d never brought this up in conversation before, afraid of the possible repercussions.

“What makes me different, then?” Your only response was to stare at him.

What did make him different? You didn’t really have an answer, but you trusted Jimin.

He hadn’t attended any of the parties since the two of you got together, totally understanding of your apprehension.

This party was a special occasion, though, which is why he wanted you to attend so badly.

Hoseok was one of the members of Bangtan, and the party was for his birthday.

The fraternity was notorious for going all out in regards to their members, so this was expected to be one of the best parties of the year, considering how popular Hoseok was.

This party would be no different. You’d seen the info floating around on Snapchat, meaning anyone and everyone was invited, something unusual for Bangtan, because usually you had to know someone to get in the door.

“You know how I feel about parties, Jimin,” you replied from your seated position on the couch.

Jimin had been persistent on your attendance since he’d heard about the party, but he’d been especially antsy since he returned home from his last class.

“I know, Y/N, but think about it! It’s Hoseok’s birthday!” Jimin made his way around the couch and sat on the coffee table in front of you.

He took the book you were reading out of your hands and set it on the table next to him.

“He’s your friend, Min, not mine.’’ You shook your head, reaching back out for your book.

Jimin was quick to grab your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm as he gave you the best puppy dog eyes he could muster.

“Pleaasseee!’’ he whined.

“Only for like, two hours,’’ you rolled your eyes.

“It’s a deal!” Jimin exclaimed, jumping to his feet.

He quickly scurried off to your shared bedroom, muttering about how he was going to let the others know you would, in fact, be in attendance.

The day of the party arrived sooner than you would have liked. Considering the rest of your week following the conversation with Jimin had been filled with tests and essay revisions, it was really no surprise that it was Saturday already.

The weather was warm enough that you opted for a spaghetti-strapped dress with delicate flowers scattered across the white fabric.

It was sheer and silken, like something you’d see in the middle of summer. It rested against the middle of your thighs, providing enough coverage to be modest, but not so much you felt swamped in fabric. It seemed perfect for the occasion (even though it appeared you’d have to prevent Jimin from ripping it from your body).

Even though you and Jimin arrived fairly early, it seemed as if the party was already in full swing.

You made it inside, albeit difficultly, and began the hunt for the birthday boy to offer him your congratulations.

Somewhere along the way you had been handed a solo cup filled with a mysterious liquid that smelled an awful lot like fireball and coke. If you were anywhere else you would have questioned the drink, but considering the fact that Seokjin had been the one to hand it to you, you weren’t too worried.

After searching for Hoseok and not finding him, you and Jimin settled onto the couch with Jimin’s best friends, Jungkook and Taehyung, who were also a part of the frat.

Conversation flowed easily between the four of you, and time was passing by quickly. You found yourself enjoying the party more than you originally thought you would.

“You still wanting to leave?” Jimin’s words were whispered directly into your ear, plush lips gently brushing against the outer shell.

“I don’t mind staying,’’ you shrugged.

“Well, uh- I don’t mind either but, there’s a bit of a problem.’’ He glanced down to his lap where a bulge was beginning to form.

Without even having to look, you rolled your eyes. “What!” Jimin exclaimed, glancing at his friends to make sure they were still oblivious to your conversation, “You look so hot in that dress, baby girl.’’

“So? You can’t wait until we get home?” “Please, Y/N,’’ Jimin purred, “humor me.’’

Sighing again, you stood up, bidding farewell to the others and tugging Jimin down the hall.

“Where to, loverboy?” You asked.

Jimin swung the first door open and pulled you inside, slamming it shut and flicking the lock.

“Where were we?” Jimin turned to you with a smirk.

“My bedroom,’’ another voice rang out.

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sudden sound.

Hoseok was lounging on the bed shirtless, his feet kicked up.

“To what do I owe your lovely presence?”

“We were just-’’

“Gonna fuck in my bed?” Hoseok cocked his eyebrow.

“Well-’’

“I could’ve at least gotten an invite,’’ Hoseok tsked, “it is my birthday, after all.’’

“Invitation sent.’’ you said.

“Bring it on.’’ Jimin smirked.

“Remember you asked for this.’’ Hoseok snickered as he stood up, looking amused at your lover's words.

“Kneel. There,’’ he barked at Jimin, pointing to the patch of carpet near the foot of the bed.

The blond was quick to follow orders without hesitation. Who knew your lovely boyfriend would submit so easily?

“Not so mouthy now, are we?” Jimin rolled his eyes, causing Hoseok to scoff.

“Pretty dress,’’ Hoseok cooed as he sauntered over to you, lips brushing the edge of your jaw, “It’d look better off, though.’’

He wasted no time and ripped the garment from your body, exposing your soft skin to the chill air of his bedroom.

Hoseok smashed his lips to yours, mouths sliding fervently against each other.

He feathered kisses across your jaw, working his way down the column of your neck and down your chest, finally reaching your breasts.

‘’Hoseok,’’ you gasped as his mouth latched onto one of your hardening nipples, fingers winding their way into his soft red locks.

He laved his tongue over the rosy bud, while he massaged the other with his deft fingers.

After a moment he switched, offering equal attention to both mounds.

“Hobi… mm- want more. Please. Touch me,’’ you whined as he sat up.

He stared at you as you squirmed on the bed, lips parted as pants fell from his mouth.

“I won't touch you unless you beg.”

You spared a glance at Jimin.

Seeing him on his knees next to the bed, pupils blown wide as he palmed himself through his jeans was enough to send another gush of wetness into your panties. It was obvious he was just as into this as you were.

“Please, Hoseok!’’ You mewled, ”I’ve been good,’’

“Hm,’’ Hoseok hummed as he caught you staring at Jimin, “not good enough.’’

Your eyes widened, ready to plead more when any words you had died in your throat.

Hoseok had turned his back to you, moving all of his attention towards Jimin.

“Baby boy’s been a bit neglected, hasn’t he?”

You watched on with labored breaths, enthralled by the scene unfolding in front of you.

You couldn’t hear what Hoseok muttered to Jimin over your own breathing, but Hoseok pulled Jimin to his feet and immediately locked his lips with the blond, tongue swiping gently over his lips.

Jimin’s hands gripped the loops on Hoseok’s pants, pulling the older male flush against his body while he began to mouth at his neck, letting his hands move to caress Hoseok’s hardening dick through his shorts.

You were sure your panties were saturated with your arousal by this point, feeling the fabric stick uncomfortably to your dripping cunt.

“Not fair,’’ you whined, sitting up, ”you’re hogging.’’

You nudged Jimin, attaching your lips to the side of Hoseok’s neck, painting blossoms of red and purple across his supple skin, while Jimin made similar moves on the other side.

As you moved more toward the center of his throat, you found yourself knocking heads with Jimin.

“Now who’s hogging?” Jimin mocked you as he nuzzled his nose against your own.

You momentarily turned your attention from Hoseok to Jimin, letting your lips meet. No matter how many times you had kissed Jimin, his hot lips always made you weak in the knees.

You moaned as he pulled away, wanting nothing more than to ravish him right then.

Hoseok’s hand on your waist brought you back to reality, turning your attention back to him.

“It won’t be long before someone comes looking. If we really wanna have fun we should hurry a bit.

You and Jimin both nodded dumbly, entranced by Hoseok.

“How do we wanna do this?” Hoseok asked as he pulled off Jimin’s shirt, nipping at his jaw.

“You can fuck her if you want, long as you’ve got a condom.’’

Hoseok quickly rummaged through his nightstand, proudly whipping out the foiled package.

“You okay with that?” Jimin turned to you, taking his time to run his hands over your curves, fingers sliding against your soaked panties.

“Please. Hurry.’’ You nodded, grinding onto Jimin’s palm.

“Eager, aren’t we?” Hoseok laughed as he stepped out of his shorts, tearing the wrapper open and rolling it down his thick length.

Jimin made his way around the bed, kneeling next to your head.

You reached up and wrapped your hand around his cock, giving him a few strokes while you waited for Hoseok to line up with your entrance.

“We’ll have to do this again sometime,’’ Hoseok breathed as he began to push into you. “Wanna taste you next time.’’

“Oh, god.’’ You cried as he bottomed out.

He stilled inside of you, giving you a few moments to adjust to his size before he was pulling out and rocking back into you again.

Hoseok was longer than Jimin, but not as girthy. Still, he managed to reach places inside of you that had your toes curling as you felt the familiar knot already tightening in your stomach.

You felt the tip of Jimin’s cock nudge your lips and without hesitation you opened for him.

Jimin began thrusting into your mouth in tandem with Hoseok.

“Hng- Fuck, Y/N.’’ Jimin moaned, “ 'm close. God, your mouth.’’

You relaxed your throat, allowing Jimin deeper access to fuck into you.

It wasn’t long before you felt his warm cum coating the inside of your throat.

He pulled out gently, and you turned your attention back to Hoseok who had begun working your clit as he continued to thrust into you at a steady pace.

“ 'm not gonna last long,” Hoseok grunted, “wanna feel you milk my cock.’’

Hoseok's words were enough to throw you over the edge into ecstasy, walls clenching around his cock as he stilled inside of you, spilling his seed into the condom.

The two of you laid there, catching your breaths before Hoseok pulled out, discarding the used condom in the wastebin.

“Thank you for that,’’ Hoseok smiled as he pulled his shirt back over his head.

“Not a problem,’’ Jimin said, helping you redress.

“It was fun,’’ you added.

Reaching out, you pulled Hoseok into your arms, trapping him in a hug.

He tensed, but returned the gesture nevertheless.

“You just had your dick in me, a hug won’t kill you.’’ You giggled, releasing the man whose face was now as red as his hair.

He shook his head at you, giving Jimin a bro hug before following you to the door.

“Talk soon?” Jimin said to his frat-mate.

“For sure, let me know when you get home. I’ve got more party things to attend to.’’ He rolled his eyes.

You and Jimin left soon after, beginning the short journey home.

“Is it bad I want to do that again?” Jimin broke the silence.

“No, I want to too.’’

“I never took Hobi as a Dom,’’ Jimin pondered out loud.

“Have you seen the man? He screams dom,’’ you disagreed.

“Maybe we can call him for your birthday.’’

“I’m down.’’ You reached out to Jimin for the door key.

Wordlessly, he handed it over.

The silence remained until the two of you were settled into bed.

“Y/N?” Jimin asked.

“Hm?”

“Do you like Hoseok?”

You looked at Jimin with uncertainty.

“Of course I do, he’s your friend.’’

“Yeah but… nevermind.’’ He shook his head.

“O-okay?” You responded.

“We’ll talk in the morning, baby. Get some rest.’’

Rest didn’t come easy, and when it did, you dreamt of all the possibilities the morning held.

#changeswithluv #ficswithluv #bangtanarmynet #bangtanfairygarden #kwritersworldnet #thekpopnetwork #jung hoseok imagine #jung Hoseok smut #bts smut #bts imagine #park jimin imagine #park jimin smut #park jimin x reader #jung Hoseok x reader #commissions

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needtherapy · 3 years

Text

soaring, carried aloft on the wind...continued 21

An arranged-marriage story for Xichen and Mingjue, in another time and another place.

The Beifeng, the mighty empire of the north, invaded more than a year ago, moving inexorably south and east.

In order to buy peace, the chief of the Lan clan has given the Beifeng warlord a gift, his second oldest son in marriage. However, when Xichen finds out he makes a plan.

He, too, can give a gift to the Beifeng warlord, and he will not regret it.

Part 1: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 Part 2: 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 / 18 / 19 / 20 / 21 … HOME

It’s complete on AO3 here.

Notes: Check the tags if you’re concerned about the pairings ;) This chapter is rated E for Explicit

For translations of the entirely fictitious Beifeng language, you’ll have to scroll to notes. I’m only going to translate something that’s not clear in the text. Sadly, there’s just not any other good way to do it on Tumblr!

Chapter 21 Earlier

It didn’t take long for Xichen to find Huaisang leaning on a hitching post, watching a herd of horses gallop through the valley on the north side of the encampment. If Xichen hadn’t fully appreciated it when he had first arrived, by now, he understood how seriously the Ikarahu took their horses.

There were four herds, divided for safety and for grazing, and during this winter armistice, the hostlers moved them in a circle between the camp and across the plains to find new pastures in the mornings and afternoons. Between the fields, they ran the horses to preserve their strength, to discourage infighting, and, Xichen heartily believed, because it was so spectacularly beautiful to watch.

He stood silently with Huaisang for a while, the horses a patchwork of color in the distance.

“I never really wanted to come on this campaign,” Huaisang said as the herd thundered in a circle toward them.

If Xichen had not seen them do this before, he would have been terrified to be standing in their path. As they always did, though, the riders driving this river of horseflesh turned the group with shouts and flashing whips. The horses banked, slowing as they swept past Huaisang and Xichen so closely, Xichen could almost have reached out and grazed his hand along their silky flanks. It was only the appearance of danger, and the riders were always in control, guiding the horses whether they realized it or not. The herd slowed as they approached the corrals on the western edge of the camp. Xichen knew they would be walked now, and each would be groomed and brushed and cared for as diligently as though they were people.

“Why did you?” Xichen asked, pressing Huaisang about his mood more than he usually would.

Huaisang sidestepped, dodging what Xichen was truly asking. “I couldn’t say no. I will finish what we started but...I’m ready for something else.”

He sounded unusually discouraged, and Xichen patted his hand. He couldn’t think of calming words for Huaisang when his own thoughts were filled with clanging anxiety, spinning eddies of ice and snow. He was afraid he didn’t have the option of something else, or, if there was something else, Xichen was afraid he wouldn’t like it. Two months ago, he had thought he knew where his life was headed, but now...now he wasn’t entirely sure what Mingjue’s plan was for him. And after seeing such clear evidence that Guangyao’s interests were not merely political, Xichen was worried that some other arrangement might be determined for him. He wished he had someone to talk to. He wished he could talk to Wangji.

“If I wrote to my brother, would you find someone to deliver the letters?” he asked, swallowing the shame of asking a question he should have voiced months ago.

Huaisang tipped his head like his hawk, eyebrows snapping together. “Of course, Xichen. You...we would never keep you from your family.”

Xichen nodded, already planning the words to write. He had taken too long, and he couldn’t even remember what he was waiting for. No, he did know. He hadn’t wanted to face the consequences of leaving and then, later, the difficulty of explaining why he didn’t want to return. He would send letters tomorrow. He didn’t know if his brother would forgive him for leaving or forgive him for his silence, but it was time to find out. He couldn’t spend his life running only in a circle.

A smile flitted across Huaisang’s face, but it couldn’t quite disguise the sadness in his voice. “I miss my family too, Xichen. I miss my home. I know you lived on a mountain, but you have not seen datik like ours. They will take your breath away. Do you know what the sunrise looks like from the top of a mountain?”

For once, Xichen didn’t allow the change of subject to distract him. He pushed back, one act of bravery spurring another. “Why did you leave the tent?”

This time Huaisang’s quirked smile seemed authentic. “I could ask you the same.” He shrugged. “I thought Guangyao would be an opportunity, but I might have been wrong. He is unpredictable and chaotic.”

Unpredictable and chaotic were not words Xichen would have used. He had always thought of Guangyao as cautious and purposeful, if not always fully honest, and he wondered what Huaisang had seen that he hadn’t.

“Qingyang says he has reasons of his own for being here,” Xichen offered, and Huaisang snorted.

“Of course he does. But his actions don’t make any sense.” Huaisang paused and chewed thoughtfully on his lip. “Not as far as I can tell. If he is a spy…well, if I was a spy, I would do things differently. And if I was a prisoner, I would also do things differently.”

“Was your mission with the bridge a success?” Xichen asked, wondering if that was what Huaisang was referring to. He also found it strange that Guangyao would help the Ikarahu.

“Yes, it was,” Huaisang answered with a frown. “I am certain it was.”

He pulled his kitingi fan from his belt and snapped it open, spinning it in circles, flipping it between his hands, obviously pondering something. Xichen watched and waited, but with a sigh and a frown, Huaisang eventually put the fan away. His most glib smile settled on his lips, a smile meant to hide his true thoughts, and Xichen knew the conversation was over.

“Shall we make anakau suffer a little longer? We don’t get many sunny days, and I feel like a ride.”

Xichen’s lips twitched. He would not have worded it quite that way, and yet...

“What a remarkable idea, anati. I haven’t ridden in days,” he agreed and together, they trailed along behind the horses all the way back to camp. Xichen audaciously borrowed Mingjue’s black mare and followed Huaisang in a pounding gallop across the hard-packed plains.

By now, he was a skilled rider; not as confident as any of the Ikarahu, but enough that he could let muscle memory keep him on the horse’s back while the pace and the cold cleared his mind and settled his doubts. He thought about his future. He thought about what he needed and what he was willing to give up. And he thought about whether he was a coward who would walk away or a man who would fight for what he wanted.

By the time Xichen returned to his tent, he was tired and sated in a way he had not felt in some time, and he was able to shove aside the flood of anxiety that tried to whirl back when he saw Mingjue waiting for him. He was barefoot, braids loose around his shoulders, wearing only pants. Xichen was absolutely certain he intended to look as irresistible as possible. He did not miscalculate. Xichen wanted him immediately, wanted to claim every part of him.

Well, why should he not?

Throwing his belt and coat on the floor, he reached Mingjue in three long strides and pushed him back onto the bed, straddling his hips and kissing him with teeth and fangs. He gripped the flesh of Mingjue’s shoulder with one hand, fingers agile from playing the guqin. The other hand, strong from wielding a sword, wrapped around Mingjue’s thigh and Xichen ground down on him, hard enough that Mingjue hissed, cupping his hands around Xichen’s buttocks and arching under him.

Xichen’s heart sang as Mingjue matched his force and ardor without question. He only tried to roll Xichen over once, his voice already halfway to pleading, but Xichen didn’t relent. If he belonged to Mingjue, then Mingjue would also belong to him.

When Mingjue was desperate, bucking wildly underneath him, Xichen kicked off his pants without bothering to fully undress and crawled forward.

“Open your mouth, ahoraho,” he said, relishing how eagerly Mingjue obeyed.

Xichen caressed his face, the straight slope of his nose, the lines around his eyes, the creases in his cheeks that hid the dimples he loved so much as he fucked Mingjue’s willing mouth. Mingjue’s hands on Xichen’s hips urged Xichen to thrust harder, and Xichen did, wanting to mark every piece of Mingjue as his, his, his.

Before the gnawing ache of climax could overtake him, Xichen grabbed a handful of Mingjue’s braids and yanked, angling his head back and wresting a moan from Mingjue that vibrated around his cock and through his gut. Mingjue’s fingers dug into Xichen’s back as he sucked him further into his mouth, forcing his cock against the back of his throat, sending sparks shooting through Xichen’s entire body. With a satisfied groan, Mingjue swallowed, once, twice, the tension nearly keeling Xichen over. The third time Mingjue swallowed, the tightly bruising band around his heart released its grip, and Xichen saw stars dancing in his eyes as the world dissolved in white cloud of pleasure.

He was dimly aware of falling to the side, closing his eyes to bathe in the fading warmth that still pulsed through him. Mingjue curled tightly around Xichen whispering endearments, stroking his hair, nuzzling his neck. He used the other hand to unfasten Xichen’s robes and rubbed his stomach when he finally got them undone. Xichen almost laughed at how much of him Mingjue was trying to touch at once.

“Ah, Xichen, I am sorry. I know I should not tease,” Mingjue murmured, soft breath tickling Xichen’s ear. “But I love when you are fierce.”

“You meant for me to be jealous so I would…ravish you?” Xichen asked. He couldn’t decide if he was annoyed or not. Maybe a little annoyed.

Mingjue snuggled closer to Xichen, and despite his pique, Xichen turned toward the scent of earth and cedar.

“I did not mean it, but I did not dislike it. You shine like the sun when you are defending what is yours, my bright heart.” Mingjue’s hand reached the arch of Xichen’s hip bone and traced the line lower.

“Do you want him as a lover?” Xichen asked, trying to sound as though it didn’t matter, but it did matter. In that moment, it was the only thing that mattered.

Mingjue leaned up on one elbow to regard him, his perceptive expression reminding Xichen that for all his gentle ways, he was not a fool.

“No. If he had come to me before you, I might have...considered it,” he answered cautiously. “But he did not, and so it is no matter. There is only you now.”

Mingjue’s expression shifted, as if he wanted to say more. Xichen wondered if he would ask the same question.

“If you wish him, or wish us both, I will not argue, aitapaho,” he said finally, his fingers skimming circles on Xichen’s chest.

Xichen intended to deny it immediately, but something about Mingjue’s expression gave him pause. It was unusually guarded and neutral, and Xichen felt he owed him honest consideration.

It was true that Guangyao was attractive, intelligent, cultured—all the things Xichen would have looked for in a partner or second spouse when he was heir to the Cloud Recesses, difficulties with inheritance and politics aside. Perhaps if he was a better man, Xichen thought, he would be generous enough to share Mingjue with someone he liked well enough. But he was certain he didn’t have that kind of unselfishness in him.

Xichen knew the unpredictability of war, even if he preferred not to think of it. He knew the Ikarahu would return to the mountains someday. He knew eventually, things would change between him and Mingjue. Whatever time they had together, Xichen wanted to keep it for himself.

And then, of course, there was Huaisang. Xichen still wasn’t certain what the extent or truth of Huaisang’s interest was, but he did not wish to cause any impediment if it was real.

“I do not. He is not you, ahoraho,” Xichen said, taking Mingjue’s hand and kissing the knuckles, touching the tiny nicks and scars from years of carrying a sword and pulling a bow. “No one is you.”

Mingjue threw his leg over Xichen and rubbed against him, hard still or hard again, his fingers trembling in Xichen’s hair. “I want to see you ride me tonight, Huan. Every night. You, and no one else.” He should be past blushing at Mingjue’s shameless words, but Xichen knew his cheeks had reddened, and he was chagrined to realize that he was as insatiable as Mingjue. He retrieved the bottle of oil and climbed on top of Mingjue’s solid form, to let him be a bulwark against all of Xichen’s uncertainty. He wanted to trust this love, at least.

Leisurely, meticulously, he pulled his robes off, basking in the light of Mingjue’s heated gaze. With a slow smile of his own, he poured oil onto his hand, slicking his fingers.

“I will,” he agreed. “But first, I want to taste you, ahoraho.” He kissed Mingjue’s throat, raking teeth across his collarbone, licking the salt from his skin and trailing his lips in a path down his broad chest.

“And touch you.” Xichen slid back to straddle the hard muscle of Mingjue’s thighs, rubbing his thumb across Mingjue’s lips, pushing between them when they parted. Mingjue closed his eyes with a muted whimper, biting down, the hard tip of his tongue asking Xichen for more.

“And hear you,” Xichen said, before he agreed to more, closing his hand around the hot velvet of Mingjue’s cock with a rough, decisive stroke. He did, indeed, love the sounds Mingjue made, the faltering exhale of Xichen’s name, a rumbling moan, the quickening of his breath.

This is what I never knew I always wanted, Xichen thought, lips and hands stoking the smoldering fire in Mingjue’s eyes. To be yours and no one else’s, he thought, settling back and joining their bodies slowly, agonizingly, sublimely slowly. As you are mine, and no one else’s, he thought, smiling with love, exulting in the satisfaction of their union.

#soaring au #the untamed #cql #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #nie mingjue #lan xichen #nielan #nie huaisang #jin guangyao #sangyao #mdzs au #cql au #Kristina writes tiny stories #complete on ao3

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no-whump-on-main · 3 years

Text

Apartment 307-5

TWs: Parental grief, implied death of a child, mention/recount of torture

Sunday night was cold and dark; large, gray clouds hung in the near-black sky, joined by the splatter of shining stars. It was going to rain soon. Even if it did, Jodie Larkin didn’t care. She was busy desperately trying to get a hold of Demetrios. The end of November was in sight, the air far too frigid for one to be outside without a coat, but Jodie was out on her porch in a dress and sandals anyways, too frantic to bother changing out of her Sunday best. She paced back and forward as she held her phone up to her ear, praying the man on the other end of the line would pick up. He didn’t the first time she called, nor the second, nor the third, but she was too worried to give up and leave him alone for the night.

Finally, on the last ring of the fourth call, just when she had begun to lose hope, a familiar, deep voice spoke through the phone’s speakers.

“Hello? Is everything alright, Jodie?” Demetrios asked, his tone softening with worry. It was unusual for her to call several times in a row, especially so late in the evening on a Sunday. It was nearly ten o’clock.

From her porch, Jodie sighed heavily with relief, gently rubbing her temples.

“Hi! Hi, thank god. I’m so sorry to be bothering you. I was just-Oh, god, I think something is wrong. I-when was the last time you saw Elora? She was meant to be here for dinner four hours ago. I tried calling her, but her phone went straight to voicemail, and my texts won’t go through, either. I know it’s only been a couple hours, but it’s weird, you know? I’m worried. I thought it was strange when she didn’t text me about her day or anything yesterday, either. She usually does when she goes out and does fun things. So there’s that, and now she just didn’t show up, and it’s worrying me. God, I’m rambling, I-” she paused, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry. It’s a parental thing, you get it. I just wanted to know the last time you heard from her.”

In his home, Demetrios sat in a leather recliner, his expression slowly becoming troubled as he listened to Jodie’s frantic rambling. His wife, Lucia, sat a few feet away from him on the couch, a blanket tossed over her legs and a book nestled in her lap. She could faintly hear the conversation through Demetrios’ phone, though, and closed her book upon hearing that something was wrong with Elora, setting it to the side as she stood and walked towards him. He motioned for her to hold on, clearing his throat.

“I saw her leaving the bakery Friday night,” he explained calmly. “I offered to drive her home, and she refused, like always. You’ve raised a headstrong girl, Jodie. Look, I’m sure everything is alright. She probably got caught up with friends or nature or a sewing project. I’ll let you know if she doesn’t come into work tomorrow, alright? I’m sure she’s fine. She’s more than likely just making the most out of her last couple months as a teenager and being a delinquent.”

He chuckled, the familiar sound calming Jodie’s nerves. She sighed deeply, nodding to herself. She knew he couldn’t see her; the action was to reassure herself, more than anything.

“You know, you’re probably right. I just...worry about her. She’s my whole family, you know? Just call me as soon as you can in the morning, alright?”

Demetrios sounded sympathetic. He knew, better than anyone, what it was like to lose a child. Only, he knew the pain of losing one forever, not just for a few worrisome hours.

“Of course.”

“Thank you again. I don’t know what we’d do without you. Sorry for being so frazzled. You know how I am.” Jodie chuckled awkwardly.

“It’s normal to worry, Jodie. She’s still your baby even though she’s growing up. You have a good night, okay? Get some sleep. I’ll call you in the morning.”

She nodded, again, for her own reassurance. “Right. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Jodie hung up the phone and headed inside, sighing deeply. She kicked her shoes off and headed into her bedroom, deciding to take Demetrios’ advice and relax. Get some sleep.

This would all just be a funny story in the morning. Elora would come home and she’d scold her and then everything would be okay. She plugged in her phone and rolled over, facing away from it. The house felt scarily empty, the same way it had for months since Elora had moved out. Only tonight, it felt even emptier than normal.

Five text messages were left sent, but not delivered, on her phone.

11/29/18 6:15 PM: You’re late! Hurry up, kiddo, lasagna’s getting cold.

11/29/18 6:42 PM: You okay? Call me.

11/29/18 7:27 PM: Please call me.

11/29/18 8:59 PM: What’s up? Where are you?

11/29/18 9:36 PM: I love you, E. Please call me as soon as you see this. Love you.

“What was that all about?” Lucia asked, her hands on her hips and her brow furrowed with worry. Whatever it was, it didn’t sound good.

“It was Jodie,” Demetrios explained. “Elora didn’t show up to dinner and her phone’s going to voicemail. She’s worried, but I think she’d probably just sidetracked with something. Or partying. I don’t know. She’s still practically a kid and I gave her a free weekend. She could be getting into all sorts of things.”

Lucia nodded, considering for a moment. “I’m sure she’s fine. I wouldn’t worry until tomorrow. But it’s natural for Jodie to worry, she’s her only baby and she just moved out. We’re both working the morning shift tomorrow. I’ll try to reassure her.”

“You’re an angel, you know what?” Demetrios smiled.

Lucia leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, smiling back. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight, I love you.”

Demetrios nodded. “I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

With that, Lucia nodded and walked off.

Eventually, Demetrios joined her in bed, and the pair slept peacefully, curled up with each other in a messy tangle of limbs. Together, just the way they liked it.

Somewhere far away, Elora was sleeping, too. Or at least trying to. She couldn’t get comfortable, surrounded by walls of hard ceramic and chains and blood. So much blood. She assumed that today, Sunday, had been the man’s day off, because he’d spent what felt like the whole day with her, only giving her a reprieve after hours of what she could only describe as torture. Her head was still pounding from the night before, but he didn’t seem to care, as he shouted at her again and again about that stupid little aloe plant. He still wanted her to grow it, but she wouldn’t give in. Couldn’t. She needed to be strong. At first, he’d just slap her, then ask again, but after a bright red handprint from repeated impact was clear across her cheek, he moved on, bringing back the pocket knife. He cut her across her arm, again and again, then went back and dug his fingernails into the gashes. She thrashed and cried, but still didn’t give in, for the whole day. Now, though, she almost wished she had. The dull sting in her arm was a constant, bitter reminder of her defiance, and one of the only sensations she had in the dark room. She couldn’t see an inch in front of her face in the darkness, but she could feel the sting. And the throb from her thigh. Constantly.

She stared up at the ceiling, trying to stop the tears from welling up. She didn’t know why she kept trying to hold them back; they always came and slid down her face, anyways, no matter how hard she tried. Maybe it was just the shred of dignity she had left, begging to be held on to.

It was cold in the bathroom. There were no windows for heat from the sun to seep through, and she wasn’t sure if the apartment even had a formal heating system. If it did, the man wasn’t turning it on. It was cold enough to amplify her misery, but not actually harm her. Probably intentional.

She didn’t actually fall asleep for a long time. She rotated around near-constantly, trying to get somewhat comfortable to absolutely no avail. There was no way to position herself without agitating something. Her aching head, her stinging arm, her sore thigh-one always screamed out in complaint from the way she laid.

When her eyes finally did shut and her breathing became even, it was more of passing out from exhaustion than true sleep.

Still, that night, she dreamed of her mother. Her mind painted a vivid picture of the two of them picking apples at an orchard together, the rows and rows of trees bringing about the most poignant feeling of peace. The breeze was soft, the fall weather still just warm enough to wear her favorite shorts. In the morning, she would wake up with a sad sense of longing, wishing it had been real, but for the moment, she was happy.

Demetrios got ready for work just like normal the next morning. He hardly even remembered the conversation he had with Jodie the past night, paying it little mind. He was certain that Elora would come into work like normal, perhaps a little hungover, and he’d be able call her mother and assure her of her safety.

And so he kissed Lucia on the forehead and drove to the bakery, dressed in his usual uniform of khakis, a t-shirt, and an apron that had seen many years of stains. He pulled into the parking lot in his spot, unlocked the front door, and began opening like he always did. He cleaned, prepared ingredients for the day, filled the cases-everything like normal. They didn’t open until 8, and it was still only 7:30 by the time he finished preparing everything for the day. He didn’t worry.

He started watching the window around 7:40. He was sitting behind the register, with a clear view of the parking lot. He was sure he’d see Elora walk through the doors.

Three of his other employees came through the front door between 7:40 and 8:00, smiling and waving obliviously.

But Elora never came. She usually came in right around 7:50, but there was still no sign of her by 8:00 when they opened.

Maybe she was just late. He tried to convince himself of that, but when 9:00 came and he’d been acting so nervously that even the regulars noticed it, he knew he had to call Jodie.

He ducked outside quickly before any employees could question for him, anxiously tapping his foot against the deck. Pulling out his cell phone, he dialed Jodie, breathing deeply. It was going to hurt to tell her this.

Jodie answered on the second ring, clearly having been waiting for him to call. She stepped out into the hallway, away from all the rooms, praying that Demetrios was calling because Elora just got in a little late and a little disheveled.

She spoke first, hope potent in her voice. “Hello? Is she there?”

Demetrios sucked in a breath. “No. I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened, but I’ll help you figure it out, alright? Lucia and I will. We care about her, too. You’re family and we’re gonna figure this out, okay?”

It felt like a few years of her life force was sucked out of her when she heard the answer. No. Your daughter isn’t here, Jodie, she could be somewhere, anywhere, hurt or dead or worse.

She wanted to break down, she really did, But she had patients to tend to. And so she shoved down the pain, compartmentalized it into a little box and set it to the side to be dealt with later. All she could offer was a tiny squeak of acknowledgment, not wanting to speak too much for fear of bursting into tears right then and there.

She hung up the phone before Demetrios could say anything else. When she turned around, prepared to head back into the ward and continue her rounds, she found that Lucia had followed her out.

Lucia didn’t even have to ask her. Jodie just shook her head. Lucia frowned, then stepped forward, putting a gentle, reassuring hand on her back.

Jodie rested her head on Lucia’s shoulder and sobbed.

“What if no one finds her?” she asked between cries, shaking her head. “It’s not like her. It’s not-no one has seen her since Friday.”

Lucia rubbed her back lightly, shushing her gently. “After our shift, we can go down to the police station and file a report together, okay? It’s gonna be okay, Jodie, I promise.”

The other woman sniffled and held back another sob. Your job, Jodie.

She nodded, her chest heaving with a heavy breath as she leaned into Lucia. Their shift was another nine hours, they were losing time, she was losing time, she was losing her daughter-

She swallowed and nodded.

“Okay.”

Tags: @exploringspaceinpyjamas

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ejzah · 4 years

Text

A/N: And we’re back once again with another chapter, based off of Deliverance. The drama continues.

***

The Agent and the Lawyer, Part 18

“Hey Deeks, this is Kensi,” Kensi said, pausing to rub her lower lip. No one was in the bullpen, but she lowered her voice all the same. “Um, if you get this message, give me a call back.”

She’d never had to ask him to call her back before, but she wasn’t sure after last night. Despite claiming that he was fine, Deeks had remained quiet for the rest of the night.

Kensi knew she’d hurt him with her rebuff. She knew that she probably could have handled it better, but she hadn’t expected him to take it so hard. A little part of her was angry that he was. From the beginning, Kensi made it clear that she wanted their relationship to be out of the office and he’d agreed.

Mostly though, she was worried. They’d parted ways in the parking lot, even though it was still fairly early and they usually spent most evenings together. It felt strange to go home without him, especially without resolving their differences.

“I totally won,” Callen said, interrupting her contemplation as they came back from the gym. She grabbed a random stack of files and opened her laptop. Fortunately, they were to focused on their debate to notice her preoccupation.

“It wasn’t a fair throw. Eric distracted me,” Sam disagreed.

“You just don’t want to admit that I’m Champion of the World.”

“Damn right. I want a rematch.”

Deeks walked in then, his thumbs tucked in the pockets of his jeans. Kensi straightened, her attention laser focused on his every move. She saw his eyes flick her way before he looked away, and made a beeline for his desk.

Sam and Callen were still bickering and didn’t noticed the unusual tension between them. Or that Deeks was being uncharacteristically quiet.

Kensi tried to catch his eye again, but he purposely busied himself with logging into his laptop and fiddling with pens and paper until Callen turned to him, pulling him into his and Sam’s conversation.

“Deeks, you’re a lawyer,” he said unexpectedly. Deeks raised a wary eyebrow.

“Yes...”

“When playing for Champion of the World, would you say that a distraction is grounds for a free throw?” Deeks pursed his lips at Callen’s questions, his eyes narrowing consideringly.

“Is there anything in the rulebook?” he asked.

“We don’t have a rulebook,” Sam said, sounding annoyed.

“And therein lies your problem.” Deeks grinned. “Always have a rulebook.”

“The rules are verbal,” Callen explained, nodding in Sam’s directions. “Which you agreed upon.”

“Then that settles it,” Deeks decided. “Callen is officially the Champion of the World. Between the two of you.”

“Wait, you’re not implying that you could beat us, are you?” Sam asked incredulously.

“I played in high school and I was pretty good.”

“Oh, you’re on. I definitely am looking forward to whooping your ass.”

“I’m afraid any ass whooping will have to wait,” Eric interrupted, his expression grim. “Hetty just called. Branston Cole and his nurse were murdered.”

As they rushed upstairs, it didn’t escape Kensi’s notice that Deeks had successfully avoided speaking to her completely.

***

“You didn’t text me this morning,” Kensi said quietly as they drove to Cole’s nursing home.

“Yeah, I uh, I got busy,” he said, shaking his hair into his eyes. “Sorry.” He had been busy, but he’d let it consume him more than usual. He’d wanted and needed the distraction of work.

“I know you’re annoyed with me-“

“I’m not annoyed.”

“Ok, then hurt,” Kensi amended. He couldn’t deny than and chose to look out the window instead. Usually he preferred to approach issues head on rather than letting them fester, but this time he didn’t know if talking would help.

“I know we agreed to keep our relationship quiet, but it feels like we’re doing something wrong. And I hate that. I want to be able to go places without worrying that the wrong people will see us,” he explained. “I don’t like hiding.”

“You knew this wouldn’t be easy.”

“I did. But I didn’t realize it would be this hard.” He saw Kensi’s eyes flick his way before she focused on the road, her mouth set. “I didn’t think I’d care about you this much so quickly.”

Kensi made a noise at his quiet admission. It should have be a joyful moment, but all he felt was dread.

“So what are you saying?” Kensi asked in a small, tight voice that sounded nothing like her. He hesitated, unsure if he should keep his thoughts to himself. But he’d stayed up to the wee hours contemplating what he should do.

“I think I, we, should take some time to re-evaluate what we really want,” he said, glancing over at Kensi. She was looking forward, her jaw set.

“Fine,” she said tightly.

“Kens-“

“I think we should focus on the case now.” He sighed again, wondering how he had screwed everything up so completely in just a few hours.

***

“Go! Go!” Kensi shouted as she ran to the SUV and climbed in. He had no idea where he was supposed to go exactly, but Callen’s instructions had been to escape and evade.

He floored the gas pedal as one of the vehicles made a hasty turn and sped after them.

“You ok?” he asked Kensi, glancing at her briefly while he made a rushed and poorly executed turn from the wrong lane, nearly missing a taxi.

“I’m fine.” He made another hairpin turn and Kensi hastily put on her seatbelt. “Just don’t get us killed.”

“You’re lack of faith in me hurts,” he joked, smirking. For the first time that day, the tension between them was noticeably absent. It was just too bad that it took a car chase and possible death to do it.

The car chasing them swerved around, trying to cut him off, but Deeks managed force them into a parked garbage truck.

“Oh! That looked painful!” he said as Kensi stared at him in shock.

“Deeks! Look out!” she shouted as a second vehicle appeared in front of them out of nowhere. He just barely stopped in time to avoid crashing. Kensi yanked the glove compartment open and tossed her spare gun at him, climbing out of the SUV. Deeks got out on the other side, the gun weighing heavily in his hand. They used the doors as cover as three armed Russian men exited the other vehicle.

“Give us the book,” one of the men said unceremoniously. Deeks glanced at Kensi over the top of the SUV, wondering what her plan was. If it came down to a shoot-out, he wouldn’t be able to hold his own. And they both knew it.

“We don't have it.” Kensi told him.

“Purse.” She threw it across to the blonde Russian and he quickly dumped it out.

“Told you,” she said when only her personal items fell out.

“Then get in the car,” the first man said.

“Uh-uh,” Deeks said without even thinking. He saw Kensi’s head turn his way out of the corner of his eye before she caught herself. “She's not going anywhere.”

“Deeks.” Her voice was quiet enough that he didn’t think they could hear her, but Deeks definitely caught the note of warning.

He didn’t really care. He wasn’t about to let her go off with some guys who would kill her in the blink of an eye. Especially once they found out there wasn’t a stupid black book.

“Then four of us die, and one of us lives,” the first man said, not sounding overly concerned. That probably had something to do with them being outnumbered.

“He's got a point. All right. Take me.” Kensi did turn to him then, apparently astonished by his suggestion.

“Deeks.” There was a wealth of meaning in her voice and Deeks noticed the first gunman follow the exchange eagerly.

“She's just a cop. You know? She's not even an agent,” he said flippantly. “Tell you the truth, no one really even likes her that much. You know, too pretty for her own good. Kind of a snob.”

“Get in the car.” His heart hammered in his chest at the Russian’s instructions, his fingers sweaty as they clamped uselessly around Kensi’s gun.

“Kensi, don't move,” he ordered her, knowing deep down that she wouldn’t listen to him.

“Nice try, Deeks.” She lowered her weapon, disarmed, and tossed it in the passenger seat of the car.

“Kensi.” He was pleading with her not to go, even though he knew there was little choice. If she didn’t, they’d both be shot. He glanced at her and she managed a tiny smile.

“It's okay. You'll get me back,” she said, locking eyes with him. It was just for a moment, but the faith he saw there nearly made him gasp. What if he couldn’t?

She didn’t give him time to protest anymore, joining the Russians.

“Tell your superior, her life for the book,” the Russian said.

“I’ll figure out a way to get you back, Kensi,” he promised as they roughly shoved her into the vehicle. “Kensi!” One of the Russians shout out the tires in the SUV and he swore as they took off.

He felt nauseous and had to swallow harshly to stop himself from throwing up. Leaning against the now useless vehicle, he pulled out his phone with shaky fingers and dialed Eric’s direct line.

He didn’t even let Eric finished his greeting before he started speaking.

“Eric, I got a license plate for you. It's Nine-Queen-John-Item, Nine-Zero-Five.” His voice shook at the end and his knees felt ready to collapse. “They got her. I let them take Kensi.”

***

A/N: I think this is part 18, but I might be wrong.

#ncis la fanfiction #the agent and the lawyer #marty deeks #kensi blye #densi #au #part 18 #ejzah fanfiction

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misterewrites · 4 years

Text

Annabeth and the First Date

Hello everyone! E here hoping you are all staying safe and sound among these trying times. Remember to take care of yourself and others.

I’m back with a collab! WOO! My good friend @hains-mae and I have teamed up to bring you some good times and what better way to celebrate the very conflicted feelings I have about Percy Jackson being made by Disney (Looks at the Artemis Fowl Trash fire) then by writing about it!

So we kinda just threw whatever at the AU wall to see what we wanted to do and we both settled on this college style au. It’s not completely fleshed out but the idea I have is everyone are still demigods and they still get trained but they don’t really go on quests or fight monsters until they’re 18 years old because the monsters get more of a challenge and street cred than just killing children. Yeah we just wanted to do a college style au.

So this story is Annabeth’s first date. She’s 17, in college and doesn’t know Percy but they both know Grover. I like to think that Camp Halfblood is still a thing and she’s been training since she was a child like canon but in that one year in between coming of age and not being a target, a lot of demigods go to school as a last taste of normalcy and maybe to get motivation not to die.

Yeah we just went for it.

So Percy and Annabeth of 17 and they don’t know each other. They haven’t done their first quest.

so enjoy! stay safe, social distance, masks! not optional and I’ll see you soon with the next one. Have a great week everyone!

17 year old Annabeth Chase was not happy with her most recent life choice.

She would’ve scolded herself for using less than stellar vocabulary but between being seated alone amid a sea of smiling, joyful couples and her date now officially 30 minutes late with no word of his arrival, she was not in a great mood.

“Go on a date they said” She mockingly murmured under her breath “It’ll be fun they said. You need to get your head out of a book, it’s not healthy.”

Annabeth scoffed: How was reading a book not fun? Her mother, Athena, prided herself on knowledge. Knowledge was the single most important foundation in life and with knowledge all things were possible.

She grimaced as she blew a strand of her curly blonde hair out of her face, disliking the increasing embarrassment she felt about being stood up.

Her mistake was putting too much faith in the Aphrodite dorm rooms. The self proclaimed matchmakers had been hounding her relentlessly since the first week of college and while she had done a fantastic job avoiding their interest (if she says so herself), eventually they set their efforts upon her single life.

“Shouldn’t have caved” Annabeth frowned as she rubbed her arm awkwardly.

She could’ve outlasted them. The librarian already banned the lot of them from the library and Annabeth knew plenty of secluded spots where no one could find her for hours. Admittedly, though, it was getting more difficult when they began ambushing her in pairs: Outside her dorm, outside her classes, in the cafe where she loved to study. For people who never once did their homework or cared about things outside love, they were surprisingly vicious.

One date. That’s the agreement she negotiated with them though she could tell behind their wide smiles they were planning on multiple suitors in case this one did not work out.

“I didn’t even want to go on this stupid date.”

Annabeth sighed, unable to hide the disappointment.

Despite her better judgment, she actually was looking forward to this date. Maybe it was the idea of finding someone to talk physics or classic Greek to. To have intellectual debates and spend time with.

To not be lonely anymore.

She placed her head glumly in her hand.

She even dressed up for the occasion.

Annabeth was the definition of practical. Her usual attire consisted of shirt, shorts, jacket if it was cold and hair tied up in a messy ponytail tucked under her Yankee’s hat (go Yanks!). She wasn’t at school to impress anyone. She was there to learn and fight off the occasional monster.

She knew that was the real reason she felt foolish: She bought into this. Like everything she had ever done in her life, Annabeth threw herself completely and utterly into the challenge of a first date.

Her normally messy, unkempt blonde hair was tastefully curled and pulled back into an elegant (But still practical) ponytail. She wore a long black dress that shimmered every time she moved with a matching shawl and black simple flats. She had even swallowed her pride and asked Silena (the only Aphrodite child she ever trusted) to help her with her make up.

“I should just go….”

“Annabeth?”

Annabeth blinked, completely caught off guard and mortified someone recognized her in this fancy restaurant until she noticed the familiar brown curls under a tacky beanie.

“Grover!” Annabeth beamed happily, giving her satyr friend a quick side hug “It’s good to see you!”

Grover Underwood was an old friend of Annabeth. They had met when he was sent to bring her to Camp Halfblood safely and they had been close friends ever since. Though between Grover’s job of disguising himself as a human and bringing demigods back safely and Annabeth starting college, the two hadn’t seen each other in a while.

“What are you doing here?”

Grover scratched his goatee nervously “Working, you know.”

Annabeth gave knowing nod and raised eyebrow as she scanned the room.

“The cook” Grover’s voice dropped to a whisper as he hunched closer “I’m certain he’s a demigod. I’m here to keep an eye on him.”

Grover stood to full height once again and smiled “So what are you doing here?”

Annabeth fidgeted under his gaze “I...well...I decided to take a break from my studies.”

Grover looked unconvinced “In a fancy restaurant in an equally fancy dress?”

Her cheeks burned brightly “Grover, don’t you have work to do?”

Grover’s nearly popped out of his head, his legs thrashing so wildly about Annabeth was scared he was about to take off in a scamper “OH YOU’RE RIGHT! Umm, can I take your order miss?”

Annabeth finally noticed his well dressed attire: A nice collared shirt (With the collar anxiously chewed upon) black slacks and loafers with a little notepad and pencil at the ready.

“Oh.” she muttered as it clicked into place “OH! Y-yes. I would like to order the burger and some water please.”

Grover scrawled his friend’s order and bolted for the kitchen, moving with an unusual but panicked grace.

Annabeth chuckled to herself before the loneliness fell upon her once more.

“I might as well enjoy myself so this night isn’t a complete failure.”

20 minutes later

“Umm, excuse me? Is this seat taken?”

Annabeth scrawled furiously upon her napkin, mumbling under her breath about the possibilities of X.

“….Hello?”

“If I carry over 47 and I...”

“Look, I’m not going to stand all night and talk to air.”

The table shook unexpectedly and knocked the studious girl out of her brainstorm.

Annabeth blinked “Wait, are you talking to….me?”

Annabeth could feel her cheeks turn a bright pink as she caught sight of the person in front of her.

He was roughly her age with long dishevel jet black hair swept to one side as if he just gotten back from a walk on the beach. His eyes were shimmering green, the kind of green only the ocean could muster. His smile was mischievous yet playful, one you would often find on a troublemaker. He wore a dark blue collared shirt that was freshly pressed and a rather cute tie with seashells. His hands were stuffed anxiously into his black dress pants as he waited for an invitation to sit.

“I...” Annabeth began.

“Are you Annabeth?” The stranger asked quietly, glancing to one side uncomfortably.

“Yes” she answered slowly “Yes! Did...”

“Grover” The strange answered simply “he called me over. Said he you might want some company.”

“Grover?” Annabeth tilted her quizzically before realization hit her “Grover!”

She whirled around to find her furry friend spying through the kitchen porthole.

Grover let out a frighten bleat before ducking out of sight.

Percy. That’s who was in front of her. Grover had called Percy.

Annabeth knew about Percy for a few years now though she never met him officially. He was another demigod Grover brought to Camp Halfblood and one the young satyr was determined to have her meet.

Annabeth managed to dodge meeting the mysterious Percy Jackson through her busy schedule but it seems Grover had finally gotten his way.

“Percy, right? Grover’s talked about you alot”

But never mentioned how cute he is.

Percy scratched the back of his neck “Yeah that’s me. I live close by and Grover said you were feeling down so...”

Annabeth rolled her eyes “He figured he send you to cheer me up?”

Percy shrugged “I’m pretty sure he just wanted us on a date. I can try to cheer you up. No promises though”

Despite herself, Annabeth giggled “At least you’ll try right?”

Percy gave a goofy grin “For pretty girl like you, why not?”

Annabeth’s blush worsened “Well take a seat and let’s see I can bore you away. I tend to have that effect on people.”

“Nice try Wisegirl but I’ll have you know nothing is more boring than sitting in a class for an hour with no idea what’s going on and no escape.”

“I’ve never had that problem” Annabeth beamed proudly.

Percy playfully waved her off “Yeah yeah, you’re super smart. So you’re gonna be my tutor?”

“Whoa whoa whoa” Annabeth grinned impishly “I never agreed to that.”

“You said you never had a problem in class, I have the attention of goldfish. Sounds like you need to tutor me.”

“So you have seaweed for brains?”

Percy grimaced “It’s the tie, huh?”

Annabeth nodded, trying to stifle a laugh “Really gives it away Seaweed brain.”

“It’s my mom! Thought it be cute or something” Percy groaned unhappily.

“I like it. It is cute in a geeky sort of way. Marine biologist?”

Percy gave her a confused stare.

“Your major.” Annabeth clarified.

“Oh” Percy grinned sheepishly “Nah, way too easy.”

“Too easy because you’re smart or….?”

“I am not smart.”

“I dunno. Obtuse maybe.”

Percy shook his head “No idea what that means.”

Annabeth snorted cutely,covering her face in embarrassment before staring daggers at Percy. Percy put up his hands innocently.

“Everything going well?”

Grover appeared, a well cooked and delicious burger in one hand and a fresh out of the oven blue pizza in the other.

Annabeth opened her mouth but Grover cut her off “Customer’s choice.”

Annabeth just nodded as Grover set down their plates.

“So” Grover began nervously “Not going to kill me?”

Percy gave a noncommittal shrug while Annabeth answered “Jury’s still out.”

“Oh, I hear someone calling me. Coming!” And as quickly as he came, Grover vanished.

Annabeth eyed the strangely bluish hue of the pizza Percy was digging into, unsure what to make of the odd choice.

“I like blue” Percy answered bluntly “Sue me.”

“I guess I’ve seen stranger.”

“Ha ha wisegirl. Just for that, we’re getting ice cream after.”

Annabeth smiled softly at the idea.

“That would be the worst seaweed brain. The absolute worst.”

#Percy Jackson #Annabeth Chase #PJO #PJO au #drabble

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 4 years

Text

A Family of Five- Part 2: Like Sugar, With Salt

Calum and Harlowe’s marriage hasn’t always been easy, but it has always been filled with love. This is a collaborative experience with In Sorrow and In Joy. Dad!Calum. Black OC.

CW: Over the course of this series, there are mentions of pregnancy, therapy, and postpartum depression. There is also 18+ Content (Smut)

Enjoy my masterlist | Series Masterlist

Support me on kofi

No one has my permission to repost my work of fiction. This includes translations as well.

__________________________

Harlowe is still laying in bed. The alarm went off hours ago. She managed to get up, change her clothes. Calum made her eat with him and the kids. But the second she could escape, shower, and change again, she crawled right back into bed. The TV plays. Normally she would be watching it, but it’s more like the TV is watching her. The afternoon has settled in nicely, a bright clear day. She knows she ought to get up. There’s laundry to do. There’s lunch to fix. The very least is laundry. The absolute minimum. Calum can’t do it all himself. Laundry, she can do laundry. Throwing her feet to the floor, she pushes up. Just do laundry. Just do laundry.

She walks into Te Koha’s room first. His toy trains lining the molding of his floor. He likes to think this is cleaning, since it’s not in the middle of the floor. He’s stubborn that way. Her and Calum have both collectively just let this happen. It doesn’t interfere too much and she’s glad at the very least that it’s not cluttered in the middle. There’s a path--and it works. Pulling his tiny hamper, she drags it behind her in, leaving it near the door before checking Esha’s room. Even though she’s still barely a toddler, she has her own hamper. Harlowe thought it would be frivolous but Esha wants everything Te Koha has, his tiny shadow.

Grasping both hampers, she carries them down stairs. There’s no one inside. There’s not a giggle or chuckle or the twinkle of Pepper’s tag. It’s unusual for sure. But it’s not crazy. Just noteworthy, the silence settles thickly. Just the barely audible hum of fridge. She walks over to the kitchen window and sees Calum bouncing Esha as Te Koha runs around with his airplanes, Pepper runs behind him. Koha spies her from the window and smiles. His chubby cheeks lift as he waves. “Momma!” he shouts.

She leans over the counter, pushing open the open the window. “Hi baby!”

“Will you come outside today?”

The question hurts. Things have gotten so bad again. Harlowe knows that. She just never thought her children would notice. Just go out for him. Go out for him, Harlowe chants to herself. She nods.. “I gotta put some clothes in the washer, but yeah, I’ll come out.”

The smile on his face radiates. He cheers. “Need help? I can help?”

“No, baby. Mommy’s got it. Keep an eye on Papa Bear for me. Make sure he doesn’t step on my rose bushes,” she adds.

“I can hear you, you know,” Calum gripes. Koha laughs, but resumes his running with the toy plane. Calum steps closer to the open window. “If you don’t feel like coming out, don’t push yourself. Take it one step at a time.”

She exhales. It’s good for her. Just for a little bit. “I should go out.”

Esha whines in Calum’s arm, reaching for something below. He sets her down. “Okay, baby girl, I know. Down, I know.” She trots toward Koha. Calum turns back to Harlowe. “Let me know if you need anything, okay? Please?”

“I will.” He eyes her, head tilting forward. “I promise.” He knows she’ll suffer in silence. They both will. To a fault. Even if it’s bad, but that’s just who they are. A cry starts up; Esha. Doesn’t sound particularly bad, it’s more like a startled cry.

Calum jogs over. “What happened, baby girl? You’re okay.”

“She just tripped,” Koha says.

She leaves the window open. The small chirps and sounds of life help, make her feel less isolated. She sorts their clothes by colors and tosses them into the machine. The kids have a special detergent and she grabs it, always a little shocked by how heavy it is. The washing machine begins to rumble. She rests her hands onto it, feeling the vibrations shake up her hands and arms. She is still alive. Right?

The back door is unlocked from when Calum took the kids and dogs out. She wonders if Calum knew that she needed a moment’s silence. Or maybe he was worried. If the kids watched her fall apart for too long, would they become hyper concerned? Would they want to do nothing because she was doing nothing? What was she teaching her kids? Her forehead falls into the glass of the door. She can’t teach them that. She can just water the flowers, right?

There’s still lunch to fix. The kids will be getting hungry soon. She can get to that right? Calum’s here. They’ll get that that. She twists the doorknob, stepping onto the warm wood of the deck. Koha rushes up the porch steps, wrapping his arms around her legs. Brushing her palm over his back, she sucks back tears. Koha’s only ever wanted good for her. He deserves his old mother back. Not her now, covered under a thick blanket of tired, of doubt, of shame. “We didn’t water the flowers yet, Momma. Do you want to do that? Can I help?”

He starts to pull back from her. Harlowe’s quick to wipe her tears from her face. “Yeah, let’s go water the flowers.” The walk to the garage door. It cranks after she types in the code before they walk inside, Te Koha takes hold of her hand. Harlowe gives it a squeeze, smiling, however briefly down at her son. A spitting image of her. With Calum’s soul.

Things were better when he was first born. Harlowe had gotten pregnant with Te Koha well before she and Calum had ever considered getting married. But it didn’t matter. Besides, Harlowe will never forget the day Calum did propose, down on one knee in the middle of her empty apartment. He was sweaty for sure, having helped move her out so she could stay with him. She was swollen, stomach, ankles, feet. Everyone that looked at her was afraid she’d pop at any second. But it was Calum who popped instead, on his knee, to take her hand.

He was going to do right by her. After nearly fucking things up. He couldn’t loose Harlowe a second time. Her pregnancy with Te Koha was fine. There were aches and pain for sure. But she felt fine. She was fine. Te Koha was a fairly easy baby. And now there is just a fog. Esha wasn’t a worrisome baby. She was stubborn and a opinonated, even at two. But she wasn’t difficult. It was just Harlowe’s brain. Her brain was making things hard.

“Momma?” Te Koha asks, taking his water can from her hands. He can see the frown pulling down his mother’s face.

“Yes, baby?”

“I’m sorry you’re sad,” he whispers. “I promise to be good.”

She gasps, a short explosion of air before her chest squeezes. She kneels in front of her little boy. His brown eyes are teary up like mine. Cupping his face between her palm, she brings his attention to her. “What’s happening to me is not your fault. It’s not Papa Bear’s fault; it’s not even Esha’s fault.”

“Then what happened?” He sniffs, wiping underneath his nose. “You were so different before.”

“Momma’s had some serious health issues. It’s…. been hard on me. But it’s not your fault. Please, please, please don’t think it. I wish I wasn’t like this. Mommy wishes she could be her old self. I am so sorry.”

“Is there is anything I can do to help?”

“Just keep being you baby boy. Just keep being you.” She wipes the tears that have fallen from his skin. “Do you still want to help me water the flowers?”

He nods. “Yes. I always do.”

“Okay,” she whispers. “Let me grab my can.” They walk to the hose, Harlowe filling Koha’s up first. Then filling hers. He trails behind, waiting for the every other plant that Harlowl leaves to him. He sticks his tongue out a little, watching as the water slips over and splashes onto the ground. Harlowe pauses occasionally to pluck the dead leaves and weeds around certain plants. Te Koha follows suit, under the careful eye of his mother. This is the mom he remembers. A soft smile on her lips when he pulls hard at a weed and successfully uproots it. A small cheer of pride echoes from his chest.

“Need any help?” a voice says behind me.

Harlowe looks over her shoulder. Koha shoots up from his seated position. “Uncle Mikey!”

Michael laughs, collecting Koha into his arms before picking him up. “Oh, you’re getting big. No wonder Cal’s got arms like fu--freaking Superman. Lifting kids all day is a great work out.”

“Michael, what are you doing here?” Harlowe’s not sure of her own voice. It’s strange for sure. But there’s a glimmer of something light, something like happiness. It is happiness. He’s still the same. With the basketball hat, the fringed hair, the leather bracelets, and the rings.

He opens his free side to her and Harlowe folds into his embrace. “Cal called me over. Said you were having a decent day. Wanted to check in.”

Harlowe and Michael have, over the years, gotten close. They bonded originally over video games. Harlowe has her degree in psychology and through her willingness to always listen to him they grew closer. Michael isn’t necessarily reserved but he’s not always forthcoming about things. He’s vocal when it’s necessary. Harlowe never judged--she pushed occasionally for him to open up. But she never sneered at him, never berated him over his feelings. She just listened.

Michael returned the favor. He’s always become a great pillar of support since this funk after Esha’s birth. She had shockingly cried to Michael a couple times about her inability to conceive a third child. She wanted to give Calum that picture perfect family. Her body and mind weren’t ready for that--they were telling her to slow down. She always had trouble listening.

“It’s been okay,” she says softly, pulling back from his hug.

“Okay is good. Okay is great.”

“Are you going to help us?” Koha asks.

Michael laughs. “Sure, why the--why not?” Michael’s still working at censoring him around the kids. Almost five years should’ve been enough practiced but Michael was only the uncle currently with no kids. He didn’t have the filter on all the time.

The three of them settle back down in the front garden. Harlowe pulls out the gardening seat for Michael to sit. He complained about potentially ruining his jeans. “Look!” Koha puts out a bug, nestled into the mulch. Harlowe pulls back his hands a little. Even though he’s wearing gloves, she fears that it could be a snake or spider. It’s not though upon closer inspection.

By the time they move to the side of the house where the kitchen window is, Calum gazing out of it. “Lunch’s up soon, bud. Come inside and wash your hands,” he says softly to Koha.

Koha and Harlowe look up at each other. The window is opened just enough. “Can I Momma?”

She grins and looks over to Calum. Hhe sighs, hopping onto the counter and holding out his hands. “Fine, you two are definitely fucking Aries.”

“Swear jar, Papa Bear,” she laughs, sliding off the gloves and hoisting Koha up. He grabs Calum’s forearms and he slides in through the window. Calum sets him down. “Wash your hands now. I don’t want to find actual ants on your ants on a log.”

She just barely catches Koha’s laugh as he walks away from the window. “He loves going in through the window. Why not let him live a little?”

“Because then he’ll think it’s normal to climb in through the windows,” Calum laughs.

“You saying it’s not?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying, missy.” They share a laugh. Including Michael. He’s used to their shenanigans. “You coming in for lunch?” Cal asks.

“Once I finish up out here. Shit, the laundry.”

Calum shakes his head. “One load is already done. Second load is in the dryer.”

“I’m so sorry I forgot.”

“Baby, it’s okay.”

She sighs. “I’m just so off. I hate this.”

“Just consider the meds, think about it, okay? I’m not asking you to makeup your minds just yet. But don’t count it out.”

Michael rests a hand on her back, not quite on her shoulder but not quite off it either. “They honestly could help, Harlowe. Don’t eliminate the possibility. I know you don’t want to take meds. I know you can do this without. But you don’t have to.”

“The ACT is helping, I think. I just don’t want to add more to our medical expenses. I’m already running it up as it,” Harlowe counters.

Calum wishes he could shake his wife sometimes. Snap her out of whatever haze she was in. Or just get her to see that he cares not what dime amount it costs. “You know money is not a problem here.” Harlowe opens her mouth. Calum continues before she can interject it. “Finish up in your beds and then come in and eat. Relax the rest of the day. Think you can finish the beds?”

She nods. It’s been weeks since she’s been out here. Calum tries to do it for her. Harlowe’s picky, picking it up from her mother and her grandmother the particular meticulousness when it comes to her yard. He does what he knows she likes and knows how to keep the basics up but doesn’t push it too much further.

He slides off the counter. “Ready to eat little man?” Koha nods.

Harlowe goes back to her yard. Michael calls into the window for something before handing a bottle of water to Harlowe. “Maybe you should get out of LA,” he says holding the bag for weeds open.

“You sound like Calum now. You guys have been working here for years now.”

“It doesn’t mean that we can’t move, you know? We’ve been discussing going back to Sydney, anyway. Going back to our roots, settling down. Cal and Luke already have kids. LA’s no place to raise kids.”

She rips the weed from the dirty. Some mulch flies up through the hair. It lands and Harlowe stares down at it. “ I don’t want to be lectured at about moving.Then I have to look for a new university to work out. I’ve got three years where I’m at.”

“You’re not tenured. You said they’re already discussing making changes to the Creative Writing department.”

“I love the kids I work with. They’re brilliant. I have great reviews from them. They’d be crazy to get rid of me.” She yanks at out another weed.

Michael sighs. “They’ve done crazier things before, you know that better than anyone.”

“Even if the band moves back, it will still take me awhile to find work. I can’t force Calum to take care of the bills alone.”

“Harlowe, you’re making fucking bank. Calum’s smart and has been for years now. He could handle everything and more by his income alone.”

He’s right. Calum’s invested some money. Most of those profits go towards savings for the kids future education plans. Advancements from albums and merch sales have also been sitting in savings for them. Her income is chump change comparatively. Calum’s always treated it equally. The sales from her books helps too for kids savings. Her salary covers half the bills. My income is chump change compared to him.

She could move. Maybe she should. Calum’s been dropping the possibility more and more since everything went downhill. “My family,’” she says softly.

“They’re going to cause you to go gray.”

A sob chokes her. Her chest squeezes. When did she start crying? When did the tears burn her eyes? I’m so used to being able to handle things. I don’t know what to do.”

Michael rubs at her back, shushing her softly. “You’re allowed to be weak. Being strong doesn’t mean being able to handle everything. It’s about knowing your limits, knowing when you need help.”

It takes a few minutes before the tears subside. The water soothes the ache in her throat. The passing moments are filled with silence. Michael points to some small green leaves, making sure it’s okay to pull before he gets a grip on it. He can’t tell if it’s a new plant or not and would rather not cause her another crying fit. Harlowe nods before clipping off some browning leaves.

“You are not alone in this, okay? Remember that.”

“Thanks, Michael.”

She watches, to make sure he gets safely to his car. It’s all the years of drinking as a young woman and knowing that any moment could be someone’s last. It’s the years of being a mother and freaking out whenever Te Koha decides to hide behind a rack or mannequin. She has to see with her own eyes to everyone’s safely.

When she gets inside, after double checking the lock on the door, she notices Esha’s standing with her little horse. Her smile is bright. Harlowe does her best to return it as she goes to wash her hands. Esha clambers right behind her, the clacking of the plastic striking the floors. Harlowe steps to get a paper towel. More clacks are heard.

Harlowe runs in a circle, the clicking following her ‘round and ‘round. She scopes up her little girl, lifting Esha above her head. “You’re getting so big, girlie. I love you.”

She giggles at Harlowe. “You’re not tired?” Harlowe asks. “You should be tired by now. You ran behind Koha today. He’s a fast one. My little zoomer.”

When she looks over to him, sitting at the table, tracing over the alphabet with Calum, he grins. “Nyoom,” he laughs.

“Down,” Esha pleads. It’s softly at first. Then she repeats herself, more firmly, when the request is not immediately fulfilled. “Down.”

“So demanding, you’re my child. Lord help you.” Harlowe sets her down and she runs back to her horse.

Calum chuckles. “Alright, c’mon, Koha. You’re half way done.”

“I’m being Momma’s little zoomer,” he huffs but goes back to tracing.

Calum turns his attention back to Harlowe. “Make sure to eat.”

She nods. She’s not very hungry though. She knows she should be. But she’s just not. Her appetite goes most days. “Want to shower first.”

He points to the fridge. He means right now. “Please, baby. Just something. A turkey sandwich and apple. It doesn’t have to be a lot. I even bought pink ladies, your favorite.”

“I smell.”

“Harlowe.”

She knows that tone. She marches to the fridge to find the plate all ready for her. She knows, during the first couple of bites that she won’t get it all down. Something is better than nothing under Calum’s watchful stare. She pretends not to notice his constant glances and gazes out of the same window that Te Koha was lifted through. They both know the other is watching.

More than half the sandwich is gone and the whole apple is finished. Harlowe tips the plate in Calum’s direction before dumping the core and sandwich remnants. He gives a slight nod. His acknowledgement of what she’s eaten. He worries. Maybe more so than he should. But who can fault the concern? Who can find any issue in the pure love that he carries for her? He wants her to be okay.

Harlowe walks over to the penmanship study and tugs at Calum’s elbows. “You stink, you know?” he teases.

She lifts an arm, turning the armpit to his face. “Wanna try something else smart to say?”

Calum rears back. “God, I can’t breathe. Te Koha, help me. I’m going to suffocate from the stink.”

Koha laughs in his seat. “Sorry Daddy, I have to finish tracing.”

“My own son betrays me,” he gasps, pretending to pass out. No one reacts. “So you all were just going to let me die? Even you Esha,” Calum sits up, pulling her into his chest. He smiles over Harlowe’s shoulder to her. She coos, smacking her toys together in excitement. “Yeah, even you were just going to leave your old man high and dry. No love.”

She stands and walks over. Harlowe end down to pick her up. She reaches for Calum though. “She’s such a daddy’s girl,” Harlowe laughs.

“I love you,” he breathes into her skin, lips brushing over from the forehead kiss.. “I love you so much. Mommy loves you too. You too, Koha,” he says turning his attention to his son, brushing his fingers through the tight coils. “We love you too.”

“I know,” he says softly. A grin taking over his face. “I know.”

Harlowe decides on a soak. But after her shower. The shower will let her cry if she needs too. Though, after her tears in the garden, she thinks today will be decent. The rose scent of the bubbles starts to invade her nostrils. Her eyes close and Koha’s face fills her dark vision. His tears. His plea for her to get better. Her own children take the blame for her brain’s reaction.

The sting starts up behind her closed lids. God, she’s so unfit. With lips pressed together, Harlowe tries to quiet the sobs. It’s just about nap time; she doesn’t want to wake them. But God, how unfit. Unable to remember the laundry she had started. Hardly able to keep the yard together and in good shape. Can’t even a fucking sandwich.

Every second she can sit in bed, she does. Calum must think she’s disgusted with him. Harlowe hasn’t touched him sexually in months. She wants too, just lacks the motivation to go through with it. All her energy is spent before her feet ever hit the floor. Covering her mouth, she lets one nasty sob rip through her. The floor thuds with footsteps; Calum’s heard. Fuck. She sniffles. Pull it together. He can’t see her crying again. He doesn’t even bother knocking, not that he needed to anyway. If he heard the wail, she knows he would’ve broken down the door if necessary.

“Babe,” he rushes out, settling onto the edge of the tub. “Talk to me, please.”

Her hands tremble; her throat hurts. The words are stuck in the dryness that coats her mouth. Grabbing her towel from the counter, he sets it on his lap before pulling her out of the water. Calum wraps the extra fabric, then holds her to his chest. The rocking motion helps. All she has to do is focus on the back and forth motion. She doesn’t have to think about anything else.

“Te Koha thought it was his fault,” she breathes. The words are sour. She feels like there is bile on them as she speaks. “He thought he had done something wrong. I forgot about the laundry. I’m barely eating. I’m falling apart. I don’t want to fall apart. I’m not taking the fertility meds like I should. I want to give up; I don’t want to keep doing this.”

Calum finally speaks, voice thick. “Do you want to get better?”

“Sometimes I do; sometimes I don’t.”

“Right now, do you want to get better?”

“I’m just tired, Calum. I’m so fucking tired.”

“You know I’m here for you. You know I care, right?” She nods against his chest. “Do you trust me?” She nods again, clutching onto the cotton t-shirt. He releases a breathe. “Then we can’t stay here. You can’t keep dodging therapy appointments. You can’t skip your meds.”

“I know; I’m sorry.”

Calum kisses the top of her head, or what he can reach of it behind the pineappled afro. “I need some extra hands. We need some extra hands; I know a nanny scares you. But we’re getting out of LA, as quick as possible. I’m calling your parents, see if they can help for a little bit. But we’ve gotta get out of here. I know you’re worried about insurance costs and such. But maybe it’s time to leave the States. My parents could help us; I’m sure they’d be happy to.”

She is small, in that moment she is that eleven year old girl that cried in a bathroom because she heard her parents arguing. She is that eleven year old girl that needed her father’s comforting touch. She is small again, in Calum’s lap, still damp from the shower and bath. She needs someone to help her. Maybe she can stop torturing herself, her husband, and her kids.

“Okay,” she whispers. “I need the help.” A tiny drop of relief hits her stomach. She needs help. She needs help. She just needs the help. There’s no shame in that, right? There’s nothing wrong in admitting that sometimes the burden is just too heavy to carry all by herself.

#calum hood #calum hood fanfic #calum hood fic #calum hood imagine #calum hood x black oc #calum 5sos #dad!cal #dad!cal series #dad!calum #5sos #5sos fanfic #5sos fic #5sos imagine #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer fanfic #5 seconds of summer fic #5 seconds of summer imagine #h writes

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introvertllux · 4 years

Text

Peace in Normalcy: Chapter Seven

(The chapter is told from Prue’s point of view. Anytime, that you see italicized words, that means Prue is speaking via her internal monologue).

Genre: Romance, Drama, Comedy, Comedy-Drama

Warnings: 18+, depictions of mental health, mental disorders, depression, suicide, and sexual abuse. (Please do not read, if you may be triggered).

*Any depictions of mental health are based on MY PERSONAL EXPERIENCES. Please do not think I’m making fun or mocking anyone, again these experiences are based on what I have seen and or been through myself. Also, I am not intending to romanticize mental health or disorders in anyway. Lastly, If you do decided to read this story I am very thankful and I hope you enjoy it. : )

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Prue’s P.O.V

Monday, October 28, 2019

“Hello, Prue. How are you doing today?” Dr. Salomon asked. “I’m okay, I guess,” I responded back.

“You, guess?” He questions as he raised his right eyebrow.

“I mean… yes and no?” I said sounding unsure.

“Well, why don’t you start sharing with me how things have been going since we’ve last met.” He said.

“Okay, well I went to my sister and brother-in-law’s annual Halloween party. I had so much anxiety going to it in the first place. I really didn’t want to, but I figured this would be a way to push myself out of my comfort zone and start to rekindle my relationship with my sister.” I said.

“What made you uncomfortable about going?” He asked me.

“I hate crowds of people. I’m introverted… I rather read a book, work on some art, or watch a movie or even binge watch a tv series than to be surrounded by a mass number of drunk strangers and loud music. I get anxious being around strangers, not knowing them or their intentions I guess…” I responded.

“Hmm… which is expected when you experience a lot of trauma in your past. You begin to question people’s intentions especially when they are strangers but that becomes a problem when you try to form a relationship with someone and they show you their intentions and if they’re positive and you still don’t trust them that will be detrimental to the relationship.” He said.

“That’s absolutely true. And- you know after going to the hospital and coming out I just realized that I’m questioning everyone. I feel almost paranoid. I have to question if my family is treating me nicely because they think I will explode at any moment, harm myself, or even run away. I-I feel as though my mind is starting to blur the lines between what’s real and what’s in my head.” I said feeling upset with myself.

“From what you’ve shared these past couples of sessions I don’t think you’re paranoid at all. I believe you are finding a way to express how you feel. You have a lot of pent up emotions that you’ve been holding on for many, many, years. You have a right to feel this way. You are entitled to feel how you want to feel, Prue.” Dr. Salomon.

“I-I just don’t want to seem as though I’m blaming everyone around me for my issues. Maybe I can’t move forward because, in reality, I don’t want too. Maybe I’m just the problem.” I said, now feeling ashamed of myself.

“I don’t think you are blaming anyone but yourself. Don’t you think it’s about time that you hold the people around you accountable for the mistake that they’ve made that has resulted in how your childhood came to be? I’m not saying they take all of the blame. But for years you have carried all this weight of guilt, shame, trauma, all alone when you weren’t in this on your own.” He stated.

I stared at him as I realized the truth in what he had said.

“Prue… you are not a problem. You are just a person with them. Just like you, I have problems of my own, your parents do, your sister does too. Everyone does. Nothing in this life comes without problems. But it’s how you choose to deal with those problems it what really matters.” He said.

I looked at him with a small smile, “You’re right. I have to change my perception of things. I have to put into the world what I want out of it.” I said.

Dr. Salomon nodded him as he sat up his respective love seat and asked, “Not to change the subject, but I would like to focus more on your interactions with others. Did you have any interactions with anyone at the Halloween party.”

“Um, not a first no. I almost had a panic attack for sure… When I looked around the room and saw everyone I started to feel overwhelmed and scared. As I stated before I don’t like crowds and I’m very skeptical of strangers and aside from my sister and my brother-in-law I didn’t know anyone there.”

“But I would have to say the beginning of my panic attack started when I was looking around and I saw someone that looked like Jaxson to me. I- I didn’t want to believe it was him. I didn’t think Mallory or Jahmal knew him. But then again, we live in a small town. I blinked so many times trying to snap myself out of it. B-but I just kept seeing him standing there, drink in his hand, just staring at me with the smug and dangerous look in his eyes and that smirk.” I said as I began to recall the memory. I took a deep breath, trying my best not to panic once again.

“So, you felt like you saw Jaxson there, which made you panic. But you did not have a panic attack?” He clarified. I nodded my head yes.

“Okay, so what stopped you from having a panic attack?” He asked.

“I-I was snapped out of it by Frank. It was strange. I wasn’t scared or alarmed by him or the fact that he was a male that I barely knew. I just was- in a weird way comforted by him. He didn’t traditionally approach me, but the fact that he saw that something was wrong with me out of all people there is…what had comforted me. If that makes sense.” I said trying to be as clear as possible.

“Ah, I see. It seems that despite having traumatic experience in the past with males, it seems that you’ve taken a liking to him. Is it too early to say that you may even trust him?” Dr. Salomon questioned.

“I-I mean so far with him I’ve done things and have acted so unlike me? I don’t know. We spent the whole rest of the night joking and talking. He even pranked my mom’s rival, for disliking me. I- I don’t know that’s a lest how I took it. If it was any other guy I wouldn’t have gone. But he makes me feel normal? Again, I don’t know if it’s because he’s gone to the hospital and so have I and maybe he gets it. But I just feel like I’m not being judged or treated a certain way because of my mental health. Maybe he’s pitying me because I’m a female and I’m younger than him?” I said I continued to ramble.

“Have you considered the possibility that maybe it’s okay for you to like someone. Romantically or not. Have you considered that it’s okay for you to have “normal” things like a crush?” He asked.

“I did, once. I thought I was going to have that with Jaxson. I thought he would be the best thing that’s ever happened to me but he- “I said before Dr. Salomon interrupted me.

“Stole from you.” Dr. Salomon, he said completing my sentence.

“Yeah. He took what I thought could be something I’ve thought about, dreamt about, and he twisted it into something evil and wicked. That experience made me not trust men. Every so often I think of my parents, my sister, or even couples I’ve seen around, and I think about how that could be me but then… I just get these flashbacks of Jaxson and what he did to me. I think about another guy doing that to me. I don’t want to think about Frank in that way. But I don’t know him so what if he starts off nice like Jaxson and does the same things as him? I mean when I was hanging out with Frank I didn’t think about Jaxson or the things he did. I didn’t even have any thoughts about Frank hurting me. But… it’s still possible.” I said.

“Prue, I’ll tell you this. No matter what you have gone through or what you will face in the future, you never, ever let someone still your joy. He may have taken what you wanted at that time but what about now. You have the opportunity to change all of that. A second chance. You cannot waste it on what-ifs and comparisons to people who have hurt you. You have to grab the bull by its horns and ride the wave of life. You have to start living the life you want to live.” He said.

I looked at him again as I listened intently.

“When are you going to decide to live?” He said lastly.

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I stood outside of the library as I pulled out my cell phone and looked at the time. It was 10:45 AM. I let both Dr. Salomon and my parents know that I had to leave my appointment early (of course for different reasons). It was harder to explain to my parents why they needed to pick me up 15 minutes early and drop me off at the library.

To be completely honest, I wasn’t ready to let anyone besides Dr. Salomon know that I have a job. I knew my family would freak out. They would say things along the lines of I wasn’t ready or how much of a terrible idea it was. Ultimately, we would all end up auguring and creating more tension between us. No, I’m not a fan of keeping secrets but if I don’t start making decisions based on what I want and what I think is going to benefit in the long run them what’s the point. It’s time that I stop living life for everyone else and I start living for me.

As I entered the library, I noticed how unusually quiet it was. I was a little surprised considering it was around lunchtime for the staff and faculty at the school and most of the workers from the local shops around town and they would usually be the library for their breaks. Though I was a little surprised, I was mostly relieved. I’m really worried about how my first day will go. Will I see someone I know? Will something happen to trigger me? Or will I just do such a terrible job today and end up losing it? All these thoughts and more spiraled around in my head as I made my way to Mrs. Whitaker’s office.

I knocked twice on her door before I heard a soft, “Come in.” I opened the door and allowed myself in.

“Good Morning, Dear. Early, as usual, I see.” Mrs. Whitaker said with a sweet smile as she glanced at the antique clock that was placed right above her office door.

“Good Morning. How are you.” I responded back.

“I’m alive, aren’t I?” She responded back with a hint of sass.

I giggle slightly at her. Ah, she’s still the same old Mrs. Whitaker.

“Prue. Since it is a pretty slow day and it is your first day the task that I will assign you to will be pretty simple. I want you to go around the different sections and make sure that books are placed alphabetically where they belong. Then, I want you to go to the “Returned Books” bin and place them where they belong. Then I want you to place this art show flayers around the library. Lastly, I want you to hand up the Halloween decorations around the library and of course be ready and willing to help anyone who needs help finding something.” She ended her instructions with a smile.

I stood still and I listened to her speak about the assignments she wanted me to complete today. In reality, what she wanted me to do wasn’t challenging or demanding at all. However, I started to overthink about what she wanted me to do. What if I direct someone to the wrong place? What if I misplace a book or hang up signs in the wrong area?

“Prue.”

“Prue!”

“Uh. I got it.” I said as I was startled out of my jumbled thoughts.

Mrs. Whitaker then grabbed both of my hands in hers and spoke, “Prue. You are going to do great. You can do this. I hired because I know you have all the skills and capabilities to excel at this job and more. So, go out there and do what we both know you are more than capable.” She said encouragingly.”

Could I do this? I haven’t worked in months.

Before my thought began to spiral again, I felt a stack of papers being placed in my hands.

“These are the flyers. You can find some tape to hang them on the cart outside of my office along with the Halloween decorations. I’ll be in my office if you need me.” She said as I made my way outside of the office.

When I came to just about everything in my life I loved to be organized. So, of course, that includes my job. I planned out in my head where I wanted to start first. I figured that making sure that the shelved books were in order goes hand in hand with placing the returned books in their proper place. Which leaves hanging up the flyers and decorating which both require the use of tape so I will group those tasks together.

I then made my way over to the return bin in the front of the library. I then begin to place the books on the cart. Afterward, I took them and arranged them alphabetically by author and then neatly stacked in piles in the order by the aisle/genres they belong in. Next, I rolled the cart to the first aisle, then middle aisles, and finally the last one.

I glanced at the huge grandfather clock that was placed in the back of the library. It was only 12:15 PM. I still had roughly six hours until my shift was over and only two more tasks left to do. I couldn’t be so quick to hang up the flyers or decorations or I will be left with nothing to do for hours.

I decided that I would roll the cart around the library and perhaps someone would need my help. I walked up and down the library for about an hour before I felt a hand grip my shoulder. I jumped as I felt the hand tighten around my shoulder.

I let out a noise that was similar to a whimper as I began to shake slightly. A few seconds later, I felt the hand quickly detach itself from my shoulder. I turned around and faced the person that had touched me seconds ago. My eyes roamed his face as he spoke.

“I-I’m sorry. I- you work, here don’t you. I just wanted to know where I can find this book. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He said.

My eyes narrowed as I began to step back until my back came against the cart I had been pushing around. I grabbed my shoulder as I closed my eyes and exhaled.

“It-it’s fine. I’m happy to help. Just please don’t touch me again.” I said sternly.

He nodded his head and kept his distance. Which I was relieved about.

He then proceeds to tell me the name and the author of the book. I immediately directed him to the section it would be located at. I didn’t even wait for his response before I quickly grabbed the cart and zoomed out of the aisle. I went to the back of the library and pulled the cart over to the side as I took a sip of water from the fountain.

I then racked my hands through my hair. Trying to erase what just happened to me.

It’s okay. He’s not Jaxson. That wasn’t him. He’s not here. I kept saying over and over in my head to try and soothe myself. I took a deep breath in and let it out quietly.

Get it together Prue. You’re at work. You-you got this.

I smoothed down my hair strands and brushed off my top and proceeded to get back to work. I decided that since it’s almost 1:30 PM I should get a start on placing the flyers around the library. I took small pieces of tape and began to place them on the cart (so that I didn’t have to hold the flyer and then try to rip off a piece of tape). I began with the back of the library. I placed each flyer about 7 ft apart so that they weren’t too close together but there were still enough of them being showcased.

Before I started the middle section of the library. I took one of the flyers and analyzed it. I would love to enter this contest. It would be a dream come true. But it’s been so long. Right now, I’ve just gotten back into art. I don’t think I have a chance of even getting past round one and to top it all of the themes is, “Self-Discovery” how ironic. Maybe this is a sign?

I continue to contemplate whether or not I wanted to enter the contest as I rolled the cart to the middle section of the library and began to hang the flyers. From this section on, I wanted to take my time placing the flyers up. Before I knew it an hour and forty-five minutes had past and it was 2:45 PM had past and I was in the front section of the library handing my last few flyers.

This is when Mrs. Whitaker approached me saying that I could take my lunch break. I didn’t bring any lunch with me. I wasn’t hungry anyway, but my feet did hurt a little. I decided to tape the last two flyers on the outside of the library doors and then go take a seat in my nook area.

I signed as I got comfortable in my nook area with my headphones in and as the playlist of my favorite music.

After a while, I looked down at my phone and saw that I only had five minutes left of my break. Boy, I couldn’t be gladder that my break was an hour-long. It helped to shorten the day and allowed me a moment to recharge. I got up and pushed the cart around this time placing the Halloween themed decals, lights, and posters around this section of the library.

I continued doing this until every part of the library was festively decorated. I looked around at the clock in the front section of the library and saw that it was 5:45. It took a while to hang up all of these decorations but I was proud of myself for doing so and I was glad it took so long because I wanted to go home. I thought I’d never say that.

“Prue!” I heard my name being yelled slightly. I turned my head in the direction I was being called and saw Mrs. Whitaker walk up to me.

“Before you get ready to go. I wanted to give this to you.” She said as she handed the art contest flyer to me.

“I-“I started to speak before she interrupted me. “Stop. Before you say anything. We both know how talented you are when it comes to art. Talent isn’t even the right word. It’s your gift. And you ought to be ashamed of yourself if you let an opportunity as big as this one pass and you don’t share it to the world.” She said with a stern tone as she stood with her hands on her hips.

“I gave her an unsure look, but I still took the flyer in my hands. “Oh, before I forget, that you come in at 8:00 AM and leave at 4:00 PM every day except Mondays from now on, this includes Halloween as well. And have a good night, get home safely.” She said as she turned to leave.

“Thank you. Goodnight, I hope you get home safe.” I said back and went to quickly put the cart back outside of her office.

As I exited out of the library, I had completely forgotten that I never told my parents I was going to be late for dinner. Fuck.

I quickly grabbed my phone. I didn’t see any messages from them which could only mean I’m screwed. I quickly texted them, that I was at the library still and was on my way home. I could only hope that they aren’t too angry at me. I really don’t want to fight or argue with them. Not now, not ever.

I sprinted home as quickly as I could. I arrived home in half the time that I usually would. I took deep breaths as soon as I reached the front lawn of my house.

I may be slim but I’m far from in shape that’s for sure.

I grabbed my keys and unlocked the front door. I entered the door and took off my sneakers. I listen out for any noise on the main floor of the house. I heard the sounds of small laughter. I quietly walked past the kitchen.

“Prue!” I heard my dad yell. I immediately stood up straight and hid the flyer behind my back.

“Hi, Dad,” I said trying not to sound suspicious.

“Why don’t you join your mother and me for dinner. We’ve just started.” He said with a smile on his face.

I looked between his face and my mother’s. They both seemed to be in a good mood. Which I don’t trust at all. I folded the flyer behind my back and placed it in my jean pocket.

“Okay, sure,” I said as I sat in my usual seat. I plated myself and began to eat the spaghetti and meatballs that sat before me.

“I’m sorry that I was late,” I said.

“That’s okay. Your mother and I get how important it is to you.” My dad said with a smile.

I didn’t really put too much thought into what he was saying. Like I said before dad was always the person that covered up everything. You would think that with him pretending all these years he would get rid of the signs that gave him away. For example, his posture is a little tense, he is smiling way too much, and he’s conducting small talking to try and maintain some peace.

My main focus was on my mother. She’s silent. Which is deadly in this household.

I wish we could have a normal dinner at this house. But I guess this is our normal.

“So… how was the library.” He asked. Here we go.

“It was fine. The same as it always is.” I responded back as I twirled some spaghetti around my fork.

“Come on, Pru-Pru there must be something you do at the library.” He said trying to get to further elaborate.

This is exactly what I’m talking about. My parents love to play games. Since I’ve come home they’ve said time and time again that they would do better. That they would try to understand and then they do this. This is their tag team game. Dad starts with his innocent nice guy act to try d lure you into admitting something. Then my mother will come in for the kill and start yelling, lecturing you, and accusing of things you didn’t do. But not this time. I refuse to let them continue to treat me like a child. As much as I despise it, I will play their game.

“Yeah dad, I read. You know at the library.” I said sarcastically.

“I’ve never heard of reading taking six hours Prue.” My mother chimed in coldly.

“Well, just because you never heard of it doesn’t mean it hasn’t happened. Some people can finish a book in a day or even a short few hours. Why is that a problem?” I continue to say as I ate my food.

“Because it isn’t normal. No one spends days on end in the library and just reads only. There’s something else. Something else is going on.” She accused.

I remained silent as I continued to eat my food determined not to break my composure.

“Is there someone? A guy you like?” She pried.

My eyes widened as I stopped eating.

“What?” I said quietly.

“A man, Prue. Are you seeing some- “She said before I interrupted her. “No! Mom I’m not!” I yelled angrily.

“Prue, if you are, we need to talk about it. We- we know dating hasn’t been the same with you since Ja-.” She starts to say.

“No!” I said as I slam my hands on the dining room table. I push my seat out and stood up. “Don’t! Don’t you dare say that name! I-I’m not doing this shit right now.” I said enraged.

I walked away and ran upstairs to my bedroom. I quickly grabbed my medication and walked to my bathroom. I turned on the faucet and took the pill. I then walked over to my bed and laid down, trying not to think about my parents or Jaxson.

Thursday, October 31, 2019

I arrived at the library early as usual. So far this week, I have been doing pretty much the same things I have been doing since Monday, which was organizing books and helping out people who need it. I haven’t done much.

Today was Halloween and typically, the library would have some small events that catered to children such as read-aloud and giving out candy. I used to love being here and volunteering to do the read-aloud and give out candy but ever since my breakdown I’ve been afraid of interacting with anyone especially children. I scarred a child for life by blacking out on them. Right now, I can’t promise that won’t happen again.

I oftentimes wonder what happened to the child that I blacked out on. I hope he’s okay. I hope he’s doing well in school. I hope he’s happy. But… I guess I’ll never because I can’t go anywhere near him or the school.

Thinking about what transpired at work makes me feel as though I shouldn’t have children of my own. If I can’t get myself together why should I risk ruining another human’s life? Sometimes… at night when I can get some sleep, I dream about what life would be like when I’m healed when I finally take full control of my life when I’m finally happy. In those dreams, I have a huge family. I four kids. Two of each gender. They’re wonderful and they love me just as much as I do them and my husband is just as wonderful and amazing as they are. And he loves me for me.

If only my dreams could come true.

I continued to work up until my lunch break. Where again, I didn’t pack a lunch. I still have yet to get readjusted to eating lunch at a job. I spent my lunch break the same way I had been spending it these last couple of days, listening to music.

After my break ended Mrs. Whitaker asked me to place the candy in bowls and put them around the library and set up the read-aloud for later tonight. By the time I finished this, it was around 3:45 and I was about to go. I made sure to clean up after myself and put anything I used throughout the day back in the areas they belonged to. I then dropped by Mrs. Whitaker and wished her a happy Halloween and good night.

As I walked down the library steps, I began to walk my normal path. I walked for a few minutes until I heard “Yo! Detective!”

My eyebrows raised and my lips pursed out as I turned around to see Frank running my way. I stop in my tracks and looked at him. What’s he doing around here?

“Hi,” I said quietly still eyeing him slightly.

“What are you doing around here?” He asked. I should be asking you the same.

“Um, I live around here,” I said. I looked at him trying to see what smart thing he has to say about that. I may know little to nothing about him but I confident to say he knows where I live, especially if he lives with Mallory and Jahmal. But today was a good day, so I’ll play along.

“Really? I walk these parts all the time you know. I’ve never seen you around.” He said.

“Oh really? I was just about to say the same thing.” I said in the same tone as him. “So, were you just running or walking around, and then you coincidentally bumped into me?” I said playfully.

“Great minds think alike. And yes, I happen to be exercising out here. I was doing a mix of running, jogging, and walking. As you can see, I’m in excellent shape but you know I exercise to keep healthy.” He said.

My eyes roamed his body. “Hey, my eyes are up here.” He said jokingly. I looked away quickly, embarrassed that I was caught staring at his body.

“Anyways, I thought I’d keep you company. Especially on a night as spooky as this one.” He said.

I snorted at his joking manner and continued to walk. We walked for a few more minutes as we talked about random things that ended with him making jokes and puns that I enjoyed.

“What do you think of dinner food?” He asked as he stopped in his tracks and stared down at me.

“Um… I love diners. They’re my favorite.” I said shyly.

“Well, let’s go then.” He says as he begins to cross the street. “Wait, wait!” I yell as I catch up to him. He turns slightly and arches his right eyebrows and looks at me.

“You mean like right now, right now?” I asked starting to panic.

I wasn’t ready to be surrounded by people I know yet. What if I bump into someone I know? What if I breakdown. Oh God. Wait, the wait is this a date? What If it isn’t and it’s just some pity tactic. But what if it is? Regardless, I’m not ready!

“Yeah. I’m starving.” He said casually. I looked at him again with a more worried expression. His eyes roamed my face and then back up to my eyes.

“Look… if you’re worried about how you look. Then don’t, you look great.” He said making me feel flustered.

“And if you’re worried that anyone will bother you or we will see someone you used to know don’t worry about it. I’ll handle it.” He smiled at me with his charming smile as he tried to reassure me.

I gave him a small smile as I walked closer to him. I let him lead the way. I was curious to see how well he knew the neighborhood. After walking for several more minutes we arrived at Royals Diner. It looked the same as I remember as a kid. I remember dad would always take us here after the football games and Mallory was done cheering. Mom never came with us to the diner she said, “diner food is low-class”.

Frank held the door open for me. I thanked him as I walked through the door. He followed behind me. As I walked in, I wasn’t surprised to see the diner was packed and flooded with people of all ages dressed up in different Halloween costumes. Frank to a seat at a booth that was open. I sat across from him.

He grabbed his menu and so did I. I hadn’t had food here in such a long time. I looked over the menu and tried to see if they had my old favorite. I looked for a few more seconds before I found it. A Buffalo Chicken wrap with French Fries.

“Happy Halloween. What can I get you two?” The waitress asked. “Ladies first,” Frank responded. “Um, hi. I’ll take the Buffalo Chicken Wrap with French Fries and a glass of water.” I said.

“I’ll take Today’s special, the Cheesy Jalapeno PB & J Sandwich and a glass of milk to drown it down.” He said a little too casually for me.

The waitress scribbled our orders down as she walked away. My nose scrunched up slightly at what he ordered.

“I only ordered this sandwich because it sounded disgusting.” He said in response.

“So, I never got to get to know you that well the first time we meet or even last weekend.” He said.

I looked at skeptically. I was never one to open up. I’m a reserved person and I like it that way. But at the same time, Frank is different to me. I feel like he’s someone I can trust.

“So, I know at dinner we mentioned you got fired. Which seems strange. You seem like a smart and capable young woman. I’m just trying to logically piece together how that happened.” He said eyeing me.

I sit up in the booth and lean forward and say, “You want to know the truth?” I said. He leaned forward closer to me.

“Because I’m crazy. Crazy people don’t have jobs or friends. I got fired for having a mental breakdown. I got fired because I’m no good. I’m that one crazy bitch everyone keeps their distance from.” I said being as brutally honest as possible.

Before he could respond, I heard a loud crash followed by a voice yell, “You stupid bitch! I said Pepsi, not Coke and I ordered dark meat not white. How fucking hard is it to get the stupid order right!” The voice yelled.

I was immediately enraged by the scene I had just witnessed. Never, in my life, I have been the one to tolerate disgusting behavior like that.

I quickly turned around and placed my knees in both and yelled, “Just because you are not a service worker doesn’t mean you should make life harder for people in the industry!” I yelled at the top of my lungs.

I then turned around and faced Frank again, “I’m usually a nice girl. That doesn’t mean I don’t have my temper.” I said laughing

“I see that.” He said as he laughed with me.

Before we could continue speaking, I heard large and rapid footsteps approach us. “Look, I don’t know who the fuck you think you are but what happened back there was none of your business. I suggest you mind your business.” He said. I looked at him up and down in disgust. I hate bullies.

He looked at me back and moved closer. “Wait, wait!” He yelled as he began to laugh maniacally. “This is just too good. Prue Walker?” He stated as he leaned in closer. “Yeah, yeah that you. I’d recognized the psycho bitch that scared my kid brother for life anywhere.” He said as venom laced his words.

I sunk further in the booth as I started to feel ashamed of myself. Guilty. I felt like the worse person on earth. Here I was in a diner being publicly called out for something I did in the past. Something I can never change something that I tried to fix over and over again. But was never given the chance. I was never able to make it better.

“You have some balls to show your face in public again. I can’t- “He said before he was interrupted.

“Believe that you would dress like that. For God's sake, it’s Halloween you’re supposed to be scary, not regrettable. What are you like 16? 18? Dressing like Fred Durst. Someone tell this kid what year it is! You have the balls to say she should be ashamed. But have you looked in the mirror? You’re throwing tantrums about food like a two-year-old and parading around with this misogynistic attitude.” He said with confidence.

The young man looked stunned but continued to speak, “You don’t understand how I feel-“He said before being interrupted again by Frank.

“I don’t care how you FEEL about it… word of advice kid if you constantly go around blaming others for your problems you won’t get anywhere in life. You’ll be the same jerk that you are now. You’ll look back on life and you’ll be my age contemplating what went wrong and why was I stupid enough to fuck my own life up. It will be nobody’s fault but your own, oh… and by the way- life is not fair, just get used to it!!!” He said.

The young man narrowed his eyes and walked away. I continued to look down still feeling very ashamed of myself. I had lost my appetite and I just wanted to be anywhere but here.

“Let’s go,” Frank said and he got up from the booth. I followed closely behind him.

We walked out of the diner. I wasn’t sure where we were going but that wasn’t my main concern.

“Look. Cheer up. The things he was saying were some of the most idiotic things I've ever heard.” He said.

I looked up at him and said, “Stupid to you maybe… but nothing stops it from being true. What he said… I did all those things.” I said trying not to get emotional.

“Okay, so what if you did. What now?” Frank said. What now?

“For everyone asshole that there’s a hundred more. And for every mistake we make there’s a thousand more. So, you’ve made a mistake. I would be the biggest hypocrite if I judged you. Don’t be fooled by my irresistible charm, good looks, and brilliance… I’m no saint.” He said in a serious tone.

“But to be fair, you are crazy...but I like it.” He said as he laughed. I scrunched my face up at him as I rolled his eyes.

I guess I’ll have to get used to his type of humor.

“Now that you’re free from the bondage of the education system. What do you do now? It’s hard to come by jobs that pay that well.” He asked.

“Money is not that important to me. I think that with success, happiness and satisfaction comes the money. Money is not the goal but the means or a sidekick.” I said.

“Ah, you’re a firm believer of passion over practical. Then how did you end of here?” He asked.

“Doing what others wanted me to do. You know, just because I love science, psychology, philosophy, medicine, etc. and just because I am both good at numerical subjects and social subjects doesn’t mean that I have to be a doctor, nurse, engineer, or psychologist.” I said.

“What is your passion then.” Frank inquired.

“Well, I love art and I love helping those in need. If I could have my art studio and hold art classes or be an art therapist and work out of my studio that would be a dream come true.

“What about you? You work with Jahmal don’t you? I can never imagine. you’re a brave man, Charlie Brown.” I said as I referenced the Peanuts comics.

“And don’t forget smart, innovated, and sexy.” He said as he laughed.

I chuckled, “So what does my brother-in-law have you doing all day?” I asked.

“I think you mean to say what doesn’t he have me do.” He said as he rolled his eyes.

“I do everything yet, I’m just his assistant. He needs my reassurance on every business move he makes in addition to that he takes all my business ideas and markets them as his own. In reality, he’s just the face. Honestly, at this point, I’m there for the check and the once in a while free sports tickets I get.” He said almost nonchalantly.

The more he spoke about working for Jahmal the more I got curious as to what he was doing before he moved in with them. How did he end up there? What was his life before he moved back here? And why have I never known of his existence till now? I wanted to know the answers to these questions and more, but I didn’t want to be invasive or too blunt with him. We continued to walk and talk about our interest and sharing random facts we knew about things until he paused and stopped walking. “Um, I just wanted to thank you for…standing up for me,” I said shyly.

“It was nothing. I told you I was going to handle it. And I always honor my commitments and promises.” Frank said.

I smiled at him.

“Have a goodnight detective.” He said as he walked off. I looked around and realized that we were outside of my house.

“Um, good-goodnight!” I yelled as I stuttered. Ugh, I’m such a loser. I said as I unlocked the front door of my house.

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Links to:

Chapter 6

Masterpost

I wanted to thank everyone who has liked or reblogged anything that has to do with this story. I want to give a HUGE SHOUTOUT to the following people for showing me some support (I apologize if i’m missing any names)!!

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