#but i just have so much dread and anxiety w it too during the lead up to shot time

[switchytransboy]

the people who think being trans is a choice make me so ANGRYYYY

bc i get so much shot anxiety every week having to inject T into myself, like i hate doing that as much as i want and need to be on T for my life, happiness and identity etc

i just hate giving myself these shots and miss being on gel :(

#the T gel made my levels all fucked up so i had to go back to shots almost a year ago now #and it’s not that bad #like i get through it #but i just have so much dread and anxiety w it too during the lead up to shot time #ughhhhhh #random vent

[beansmack2021]

Marauders Era w/ Prompt 19

Disclaimer: This is gonna be Sirius x Reader angst, so I'm sorry to all of the Wolfstar fans (Follows the events of the prank)

Reader is close to the Marauders, essentially a Marauder herself. She knows about Remus's lycanthropy and about the others being Animagus. She knows that the others are all good people. Or at least she thought she did.

"Don't touch me!"

Y/N L/N was on high alert. Every one of the Marauders was. Remus had been experiencing extreme discomfort for at least the past two days, and it was the time of month that the five of them had always dreaded. She knew that Sirius, James and Peter could transform into a dog, deer, and rat respectively, and that they were safe as animals, but that didn't do much to ease her anxiety.

Remus would come back from the Shrieking Shack, which was desolate and abandoned, with new cuts and scratches that'd surely scar later. The shack was the perfect place for a werewolf to hunker down in to avoid causing harm to the general public while still keeping his secret. There wasn't much else the others could do besides lead him there, keep him company (and try to keep him from digging at himself with his claws, which is what typically caused the eventual scars), and carry him back to Hogwarts for a bit of healing and rest when he finally returns to his human form.

It pained Y/N to see him so uncomfortable, but she knew there was no cure for lycanthropy and that the others did their best to help him during the time surrounding the full moon.

She kept a close eye on her friend throughout the school day and tried to get him to eat something during dinner, but he was more focused on doing the homework he'd surely miss while he's transformed. James didn't really care about getting his done and Peter did his right after classes were finished for the day. Usually, Sirius doesn't care either, so Y/N was surprised when he came into the common room a little while after dinner and asked if they could work on the written assignment for Potions together.

Of course, by working, Sirius had meant doing a few questions and then goofing around, but he seemed to be enjoying himself. Truth be told Y/N was, too. Eventually, he'd started asking random questions to try to confuse her or make her laugh. The assingment was tossed away entirely.

"If you were a type of flower, what would you be?"

"I guess I'd be a daisy. They're my favorites." Y/N yawned and stretched a bit. They'd been talking for almost an hour. She knew he'd have to leave with the others soon, so she'd have time after to work on the Potions paper and wouldn't have to worry about not finishing it. She just wasn't sure she'd be able to focus after spending so much of her time just talking with Sirius. She felt so at ease with him, and sure she always had with her boys, but this was different. This was something more.

Remus, James, and Peter came down from their dorm an hour or so before the sun was going to set, trying to make it to the Shrieking Shack before Remus's transformation to avoid taking any risks.

Y/N stood to give each of the boys a hug, squeezing Remus the tightest and for the longest and backed away to get a good look at the four of them. "Be safe." She felt like a mother telling her boys to stay out of trouble. While she wasn't their mother, they were definitely her boys, and she didn't want anything happening to any of them.

"We will, Mum." James always seemed to read her mind. She tousled his hair a bit, and he kissed her cheek before they threw James's cloak over themselves. Y/N could no longer see the four of them, but she could hear their feet shuffling and Peter's quiet "Ow!" when one of the others stepped on his foot. The portrait doorway opened and closed after a few moments, and Y/N sat down on the sofa once more, picking up her quill and trying to think about her Potions assingment and not a certain dark-haired boy.

Y/N was furious, for lack of a better word. She was furious and she was hurt. So very hurt. Of course, it had to be her best friend. Her very best friend in the entire world, other than possibly James, who she'd spent hours talking to just the night before, turned out to be a monster.

She knew that he'd had been through a lot as a child, and she thought that he was better than the rest of his family, but he'd unfortunately proven her wrong. Angry tears, hot and thick, rolled down her face. She wiped at them furiously, holding her books tightly to her chest and nearly running through the corridor.

She doubted that Sirius knew that she knew what he'd done. He'd find out very quickly, though, reaching out to tap her shoulder and being met with firey rage. "Don't touch me!"

"Y/N?" He suddenly seemed less thrilled to see her, his smile slowly tilting downward in confusion and concern.

"I thought you were different, Sirius. I thought you were better than them. But you're just as bad as the rest of your family. Maybe worse."

Sirius was hurt and still very confused, and then something seemed to click and he tried to explain himself. "Wait, Y/N, this is about last night, right? It was just supposed to be a joke, a prank!"

"A prank? You think sending Severus to the shack was just some harmless practical joke? He could've died! You could've killed him! What the hell is wrong with you?" Y/N was starting to feel less like a hole in her side was leaking air and more like she'd be sent to Professor Dumbledore's office in the next few moments if someone didn't intervene.

"I didn't think he'd be stupid enough to actually go!" Sirius was getting frustrated, deflecting. He was trying to make it seem as though he wasn't completely at fault, that Severus had to take some blame for his near-death experience.

"I didn't think you were so horrible as to betray your best friend." Y/N suddenly felt very cold. It was a dreadful feeling. "I didn't think you would ever hurt someone the way you've always worried that you would."

"Y/N, please, can't we just talk about this?" Sirius was desperate. Remus, James and Peter already hated him, he couldn't lose her, too.

"You and I have talked enough. Tell me, did you try to send Snape to his death before or after asking me about flowers?"

Sirius's mouth was slightly agape, and he blinked for a moment before closing it.

"Daisies, Sirius. My favorite flowers are daisies. Yours are bleeding hearts."

Sirius swallowed and nodded. He'd had hope that maybe she was trying to show him that she still cared enough about him to forgive him.

"I think I loved you, Sirius. God, I loved you."

Sirius was taken aback, but still had hope. "I love you, too. I love you so much, Y/N."

"Loved, Sirius. Loved." There it was. There was the hope that he had for them, crushed before him like a flower under a heavy boot. A tear rolled down her cheek, and he wanted nothing more than to reach out to her, to wipe it away and pull her into his arms and tell her over and over again that he loved her and wanted to be with her. He knew that she couldn't stand the sight of him at the moment, but maybe she could learn to forgive him. She turned her back to him and walked away. Sirius knew, in that exact moment, that there would be no 'maybes'. She left. She loved him...

Loved.

#marauders #marauders era #sirius x you #sirius black #x reader #remus lupin #james potter #peter pettigrew #harry potter #the prank

[branw3lls]

cp2 thoughts!

-i’m stressed!!!!! theres no chain of gold audiobook available at any of the 3 libraries i’m a member of and it’s gonna take me too long to read during the week. i want to read CoT when it comes out, i am so bad about staying offline when i know there are spoilers but i want to give myself time to process my re-read. tlh books are so fucking long! thankful but i’m stressed!

- again listened to the audiobook and forgot it’s daniel sharman of teen wolf fame lol but he’s very good! was he another will fancast of the time? does not sing the irish ballads but he has a very nice voice and does all the accents well. does will with a welsh accent, you gotta love it

-this book this book this book. it’s gut punch after gut punch

“though i am the consul and lead the clave, it seems very much to me that this will go down as the time as charlotte branwell, and my legacy will be lost.” WELL! 

-consul wayland’s turn is still very abrupt to me, at least how it escalates from clockwork prince. he really turns to comically evil and i feel like we’re getting that with bridgestock. bridgestock has been much more straightforwardly a dick and but still. god will she ever catch a break 

-curse-less will is so heartbreaking and wonderful to see. makes me love dad!will even more. he’s just a goofy guy 

-‘that is what it means to be consul, charlotte’ i really think chain of thorns is going to put charlotte into more duty over family/loved ones whether that’s lucie being charged w something for necromancy or the inquisitor learning about matthew’s secret and forcing her hand in front of everyone to have him punished and to hurt her. i don’t think she’d punish either of them but i do think it’s going to be put in front of her. she will always bend the law for the ones she loves but how long/to what degree is she able to do that and still be consul. i’m scared!!!!!!!

-‘even his tufts of ginger hair radiating anxiety and love’ charlotte and henry showing small little affection towards each other makes any onlooker have to look away from them almost every time. their power

-can’t believe cecily is only in one book and is still such a big presence. gabrily forever! they fucking rock. charlotte gave gabriel one comforting hug and he said ok actually, i would die for you queen 

-i love these siblings and i love that tlh is even more about siblings and families

-charlotte interrupting literally every couple’s tender moments by abruptly swinging the library door open. i can’t imagine the institute after clockwork princess, too many couples, everyone had to be secretly making out in corridors constantly

-gewgaws!! gideon writing these letters to the consul about charlottes fake spending habits is soooo funny. lucie needs to ask her uncle gideon to be her editor

-mortmain is a fun villain. it’s almost scarier that he’s just a mortal human man who has twisted technology and dark magic and created something more sinister than a supernatural villain would and his motivations are all very tragic. i like exploring more of the downworlder tension/ shadowhunter relations and how that’s always an undercurrent of all these series

-bridget daly what the hell are you, sister

-the cadair idris battle scene kills me every time every time! “i am not mad! he is alive! he is alive and i will not leave him!” henry and charles both have been brought back from the brink of death by warlock magic and if charlotte has to also hold matthew while he’s injured and dying, i’ll lose it. no more gravely injured fairchilds! 

-it does feel like this book has about 6 different endings but i kind of always love that about tsc books. the big climax/battle is almost in the middle of the book and there’s plenty of fallout. like as much as there will always be angst and people we love dying, cc will always give us so many small sweet scenes as a balm. not that CoT will end happy per say but that’s a long fucking book. christmas at the institute is so so beautiful and i am dreading this christmas party at the institute where ‘terrible things happens”

-do you think callida fairchild died at the clockwork attack at the council meeting

-the god damn epilogue....nothing has messed me up quite the same way since. traumatizing truly. herongreystairs really is something else.  tessa leaving really makes me cry cry cry.  i know will’s death scene is not to be referenced for any tlh outcome anymore but “fairchild sons and daughters with curling red hair like henry’s had once been” i choose to believe this not referencing henry being dead but actually henry’s hair is just grey at that point

#what a series!!!!!! #having an entirely new series with their children really is an insane gift huh #ok gonna go start chain of gold now wish me luck bye bye #i want to post my chain of thorns theories before the book comes out #i have thoughts i have feelings #gewgaws #meg re-reads #thoughts etc

[ac3id]

Plaything | 18+ | part i

plaything 1/ ?? | part 0

pairings: yandere! bully bakugou katsuki x fem! reader

warnings: [series] blackmail, bullying, dubcon/ noncon, filming w/o consent, yandere themes, no quirks au. ALL CHARACTERS ARE ABOVE 18 YEARS OF AGE.

↪ for chapter 1: dubcon, blackmail, humiliation, masturbation, filming w/o consent, boot grinding, a little bit of bakusquad + reader....this is filthy :D 

summary: by luck you get enrolled into u.a high the best school in your town. the only catch is that the school is filled with rich, spoilt and powerful brats who just seem to hate you and among them, a certain red eyed blonde dreads you the most

↪ for chapter 1: you bump into bakugou by accident, dropping your vanilla ice cream all over him, you try to apologize and run away but wants more...oh wait why are his friends standing there recording everything too? 

wordcount. 4k+

a/n: sooooo, it’s finally out! huge thanks to @sawamooora for proof reading this! helped me out a lot <3 sorry for making u sit through that mess x[

 this scene was inspired by that one episode of boys over flowers where the mc’s best friend drops ice cream on the main guy’s shoe and he asks the mc to lick it off...obviously that didn’t happen in the show but it really got me thinking...... 

alsO the netflix show elite,,, i just saw it and knew,,,,

taglist: @mocha-focha​, @erenyeagersbasement​ , @haribo-pop, @sunshine-fangs​, @kuremis​, @amazing-fandoms​,

dm/ inbox/ comment to be added/ removed. 

—navigation

It was a great opportunity. Never in your life would you have thought you’d manage to land a scholarship at the prestigious U.A Private Academy. 

The school was a dream, the best in your city, and only affordable for the rich. Graduating from such a school could have helped you with life in so many different ways. Not only would it open doors you could never touch before, but it would help you to form connections which would make your life undoubtedly easier.

Graduating from U.A. was a blessing, but obviously, it did not come easy. It was rather unfortunate. After your previous school building had collapsed, due to some accident, the board announced its year-long closure.

At the time, you were beyond lost and understandably frustrated - it was your last year before college and you simply couldn't risk waiting the year out. The whole situation was nerve-wracking, looking for decent schools which would allow you in. 

Honestly, you had no idea what you would’ve done if U.A. hadn’t called you that night. 

It was the last day of the summer holidays, a week after your school building had collapsed. Luckily, no one was hurt - but the damage on the campus was severe. 

You had been talking to your friends when your mother rushed into your room with exciting news. Apparently, the chairman of U.A was feeling generous. He had decided to offer four excellent students from your school a scholarship to U.A. 

You were overjoyed being one of the students along with your two other friends; Shinso Hitoshi and Izuku Midoriya. 

At first, the thought was a little scary - going into a completely different world than you were accustomed to. The kids there would be much different than you, you didn't want to be the   laughing stock, you didn’t want to be their silly little entertainment... The thought made you nervous, but when your best friend, Izuku, called you the next night explaining how he also won the scholarship; followed by Shinso, you were relieved. 

Yes, you were stepping into a whole different world but you at least had your two friends with you. 

And that brought you to the first day of school. 

You stood outside the huge gates of the even enormous academy all alone shaking in your little, expensive skirt they forced you to wear as the uniform waiting for your friends. You promised the two boys you’d wait for them, and besides, you weren’t planning on entering the building all alone. 

Your friends, Shinso and Midoriya, lived close to each other. They were supposed to meet you at the gates of the school that morning, but they were running late. Your anxiety grew the longer you stayed there, with students filling the place- arriving in their fancy cars with their expensive bags and accessories. It easily made you feel out of place.

“Hey,” you heard someone before someone tapped on your shoulder. You quickly turned around to greet the voice. Staring back at you was Uraraka Ochaco.

You remembered she was in your school too, Midoriya has a huge crush on her. 

“Yes, Uraraka? Right?” You weren’t close to her, nothing but mere acquaintances. But seeing her face - right here, right now - it made your day. 

Uraraka was dressed in the same uniform as you, there was no doubt that she was one of the four kids who won the scholarship. Both of you talked while you implored her to wait for Midoriya and Shinso. You didn’t fail to notice the way her cheeks turned pink when you mentioned Midoriya. The two of them were so obvious. 

Your friends arrived, they were late, but they came. 

Apparently, there was an accident that forced them to stay back a little longer, but they managed to make it before the first bell. 

“I actually have an old friend who goes there now,” Midoriya confesses out of the blue as the four of you enter the gates. You look at him in awe. 

During the three years in high school that both of you had spent together, he had never mentioned any friend of his going to the U.A. academy ever. 

“Why did you never tell us?” Uraraka asks. 

“well, we’re not on good terms. He used to live in the same neighborhood before his parent’s business took off. He left after middle school.” Midoriya says, a slight frown forming on his face.

“Who is he?” Shinso asks. 

Midoriya pauses briefly before explaining his entire history with a temperamental and rude blonde. Bakugou Katsuki, he calls him. His childhood friend. But from what you managed to gather, Bakugou was anything but a friend to Midoriya. 

Bakugo was once just a simple boy, living a simple life, destined to do great things - but once his parent’s clothing line ‘Dynamite’ blew up and became mainstream, he started drowning in wealth. Bakugo moved out of his old neighborhood at the starting of high school before enrolling in U.A., just like all his rich friends.

“Maybe you should say hi,” Uraraka suggests. Midoriya’s expressions turned sheepish.

“About that…” he started. “I called him yesterday, got his number from mom, and-” he stopped. 

“What did he say?” Shinso asked.

“He told me to get lost and die,” Midoriya said with a slight frown on his face, looking down. 

That was your first impression of Katsuki Bakugou. For a man you had not even met, you sure loathed him. 

School went smoothly for a week, everything was going great. The four of you kept your profile low, didn’t talk until spoken to, kept your distance, and everything was okay. 

People often starred and whispered amongst each other when they saw you in the hallways, but that was about it. Everyone seemed to be decent but… there’s always a but. 

Everything took a turn for the worse when you managed to piss off the wrong person, Bakugo Katsuki himself. 

It was an honest mistake, not even that big of a deal - especially for his standards Yet, for some reason, Bakugo wanted to get under your skin. 

It happened after your lunch break, you were on your way back to your classroom with an ice-cream cone fasted tightly in your hands. You mindlessly dashed through the hallways, trying your best to get back to class as fast as possible - you don’t want to be late. It’d earn you a bad reputation. You don’t need that- you don't want anything which could jeopardize your scholarship. 

You walked straight and took a turn. Just by fate, you bumped into a stiff, hard chest making you wobble on your feet and sending your ice cream from your hand flying straight to the ground.

“Shit,” you cursed, looking down seeing what you had to work with. 

The ice-cream cone splattered on the floor, the white creamy liquid flushed all over the floor along with staining an expensive-looking, black leather boot. A snarl comes from above you along with a group of chuckles. More expensive shoes come into your line of view as you realize you’re not alone. 

You slowly bring your gaze up, ogling at who you just pissed off. 

Staring back at you is a furious blonde, glaring at you with such intensity that it makes your stomach drop. It’s the infamous Bakugou Katsuki, you don’t want to deal with him. 

-

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going,” you don’t give him a chance to complain as you take your flight. Quickly, you try running away but a large hand grabs your forearm, stopping you dead in your tracks. 

You look to the side, deep red eyes stare right back at you. 

“Where are you running off to? Don’t you think you owe my friend here a proper apology?” Kirishima says, his grip on your arm growing tighter. He towers over you, his huge body trapping you with intimidation.

Going to U.A for over a week there’s a thing or two that you’ve learned about the rich, snobby brats who own the school. Not everyone is bad, a few of them are actually but the rest are just bad. 

Bakugou was the worst. From how Midoriya described him, you knew for a fact he’d be a horrible person. But hell, he managed to prove himself even worse. 

He was crude, mean, downright arrogant, and ignorant. Always screaming unasked opinions on top of his lungs, and gets mad whenever someone disagrees. He acts like the world revolves around him.

 Bakugo had a bunch of friends who he called his “followers” and they weren’t any better.

They just watched while Bakugou ruined everything, they were there to support him. 

Kirishima Eijirou the redhead, he was captain of the football team. He was a jock, brawns over brains kind of person. Girls cooed over him and his overly attractive, hot body. It looked as if he was sculpted by God himself. 

Next was Kaminari Denki. He was in the school band, dating the lead singer. And yet, he managed to find time to flirt with other girls. He was the goofball of the group, dumb and stupid But he always knew what he was doing. Even though it was barely noticeable, you could always see a devious glint in those amber eyes of his. 

Sero Hanta was famous for a lot of reasons. Most notably for having brought illegal drugs on the campus and skipping classes to go down to his junkie hangout spot to smoke weed. The man had no shame. Sometimes, he’d walk into the classrooms high as fuck. The teachers couldn’t do anything even if they tried, his parents practically owned the school; he owned the school. There was no going against the tall, lanky man who looked like he couldn’t even smash a bug. He held the most power and his friends sure knew how to abuse it. 

Last but not least was Mina Ashido. The one and only girl member of the self-proclaimed ‘bakusquad’. Sometimes, Jirou Kyouka, the lead singer of the school, would hang out with the boys and her boyfriend, but she wasn’t a permanent member. Mina was. 

In your opinion, Mina was a nightmare dressed like a daydream. With her short, pink hair and bright smile, she seemed like an angel. But she was the devil. Worse than even Bakugou, perhaps. 

She knew everything about everyone, she had leverage galore: screenshots ready to leak, videos ready to ruin lives. She had them all, and frankly- she scared you the most. 

Kirishima pushed you back, and Bakugo caught you by your shoulders. 

“That was fucking rude,” he growled, biting his fingers into your shoulder blades tight and hard making you squeal. “Are you fucking blind or something? Fucking extra.” 

“I said I’m sorry, let me go will you?” Even in such a terrifying situation, you try to remain calm.

“What do you think, Sero?” Kaminari began. Your heart sank, including Sero into anything was never a good sign. 

“She ruined Bakugou’s new shoes,” he continued. Bakugou’s hold on you tightened and you winced, turning back to him and returning his glare. 

“Okay, what do you want?” you give in, finally. A mischievous spark lights up in his crimson eyes as flashes a cocky smirk to his friends before turning back to you with a frown. He pushes you towards Mina and she catches you with an arm around your shoulder. 

“Those were expensive, right?” she looks at you and then back at Bakugou. He grunts, nodding. 

“Fuck yes, I’m pissed as hell. Some fucking extra managed to ruin it.” 

You look back down to steal a glance at his heavy, leather boot. The small, white stain melted away. 

“What will you do to make up for it?” Mina whispers your name and you cringe. They were teasing you. For their fun, they were making fun of you. 

“What can I do?” you say, sarcastically. Prying yourself away from her hold. The crowd goes dead silent before speaking. Sero is the first one to talk. 

“Lick it off.”

There’s a pause, no one speaks. Your stomach drops and your face pales at the look the five of them are giving you- it’s serious. Dead serious. 

Kaminari bursts out laughing followed by Sero and the others. The four of them get a great laugh but Bakugou stares at you head-on with his grave expressions burning through your soul. 

“Whatcha looking at? Do it,” he commands. 

The laughing dies down and Kaminari speaks, “are you serious? You want her to lick your shoe,” he can’t control his laughter, a chuckle breaks with every word. 

“Yes, I’m fucking serious. Besides, Sero recommended it,” he smirks. “Do you really want to say no to him? I don’t know so much about this but-“ he leans down close to your face, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear, “it might complicate your scholarship.” 

There’s a twisted rhythm in his voice. He’s enjoying tormenting you. You still want to believe that they’re just messing around. That they’ll have their laughs and let you go, but the way Sero stares at you says otherwise. 

“You don’t wanna do it?” Bakugou asks. 

“Of course she doesn’t! That’s gross, oh my god.” Mina exclaims, earning a chuckle from the rest of the boys. 

“Hey, let’s hear it from Sero himself.” Kirishima pats Sero’s back, pushing him forward. The five of them have circled around you, coiling you inside their venomous nest with you in the center. You turn to Sero with pleading eyes, looking up at his huge form, begging. 

He smirks looking down at you, you look so tiny beneath bim. He wants to mess with you, even more, you look like a nice toy to him. He wants to play with it until he can’t. 

“I guess, I did say that-” your blood runs cold, heartbeat picking up in nervousness. “-but you don’t need to do it.” He finishes. Your face lights up while the others groan in disappointment. Bakugou looks livid. 

“Just know that, you’re the one who dropped the ice cream on Bakugou’s shoe and now you’re not even helping him out. That’s not very noble, is it? I don’t know if I even by mistake slipped that info back home- my parents might reconsider whether you truly deserve to be here or not. They don’t really like disrespectful kids who comprise the school’s name.” 

Sero ends his speech with a wide, ear-to-ear grin, followed by a pat to your head. 

“The choice is yours.”  

You pause for a moment and think. Where they were really going to make you do it, where they were really going to humiliate you like this. They were. But were you willing to do it? 

From Sero’s threat, you could tell he was serious, this was legit. 

It wouldn’t have been the first time the school expelled someone who had beef with Sero, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. They don’t care about anyone but their loving son. They wouldn’t even think once before expelling you.

“What’s your answer, princess?” Kirishima teases.

 Mina and Kaminari once again break into fits of laughter.

“What do you mean? She doesn’t have a choice here, kneel you extra.” Your heart hammers in your chest as Bakugou gestures you to kneel. You stop for a second, breathing unevenly- thinking. After a long, thoughtful sigh, you answer. 

“No, I am not going to do it.” Your voice is meek yet clear. Even though you’re trembling under the heavy gazes of five snakes, you choose to stand your ground. 

Bakugou glaring at you while the others boo. 

“Aw, c’mon you don’t mean that.” 

“Don’t be a little brat.” 

Bakugou stays silent while the others continue to throw insults at you -  calling you names and trying to make you regret your decision. You look straight forward into Bakugou’s cold, red eyes, searching for his next move. Your heart beats even harder in your chest with increased anxiety. After watching your torment for more than a few minutes, Bakugo decides he’s had enough of this game.

“Hey, shitty hair,” Bakugo starts. “Punch me.” 

“What?” Kirishima asks, vividly shaken. “Why do you want me to hit you, Bakubro?” 

“Punch me real hard, give me a black eye.” The confusion grows greater on everyone’s faces. You stare at him in awe, wondering what angle was trying to play. 

Kirishima raises his hands in defense. “Woah, dude slow down there. I’m not just going to punch you.” 

Bakugou clicks the roof of his tongue, letting out a sound of irritation. “You all are just dumb,” he starts.

“Imagine if this punny, little,” he leans down closer to you till his lips touch your ears and whispers your name with a crude chuckle. “Were to drop all her food over me, not apologize, punch and me then run away, that’d bring her into a whole world of trouble. Wouldn’t it?” 

Bakugo’s words are calculated and sly, he knows exactly what he’s getting at when he starts. His voice fills you up with dread as he makes his accusations public.

“She would be expelled on spot and Kacchan could also raise charges,” Kaminari adds. 

Your eyes widen in fear. 

“Yeah, I’ll fucking do that.” Mina giggles. “That would succck,” she cheers. Your lower lip quivers as you stare at them in disbelief, your eyes open wide only to be covered with fear. 

“Hey, c’mon, why are you doing this to me?” You feel them inch closer to you, their warmth leeching onto you the longer you stay surrounded by them. 

“Because you have no fucking manners.” Bakugou snarls. 

“Kiri, punch him. What are you waiting for? If you don’t wanna do it I will!” Kaminari cries, growing impatient. 

Kirishima laughs before he charges Bakugou. Your heart hammers in your chest. 

You think about your family, your future, and how disappointed everyone would be with you. Your dreams and aspirations, all were rooted in this school. 

It was honestly sad, pathetic even. Your entire future was just a joke to these spoiled kids. These kids who could control you, and everyone else,  with just a flick of their fingers. It’s unfortunate, but that’s the price to pay for a piece of the beautiful cake known as U.A... You resign yourself to your fate.

A piece of your mind. 

“N-no, don’t do that. I-I’ll do it,” you murmured, your voice timid and weak. The five paused looking at each other with an ominous glint in their eyes. Bakugou was the first to speak. 

“Well, then fucking get on with it. On your knees.” Obediently like a trained puppy, you got down onto your knees, not letting your eyes fall from Bakugou’s face. His red, fierce eyes barked at you with an unknown look, keeping you lost. 

“Holy shit, she’s actually doing this,” Mina squealed watching you lean forward, bringing your face next to Bakugou’s expensive boots.

“Kaminari, record this.” Sero taps at the energetic blonde, forcing him to take his phone out and hit ‘record’. As you lean further to the ground, your short skirt rides up behind you, giving the audience a clear view of your round ass and pastel panties. The sight brings a smile to Bakugou’s face as he scoffs. 

“Cute panties,” he remarks. 

You jerk, trying desperately to sit back, but Bakugo stops you. Smashing his other foot on top of your shoulder, he holds you there facing the ground.

“Don’t. You. Dare.” he growls.

You squirm, almost falling under his weight and as much you hate to admit it, a tingle of excitement runs down your spine. This was turning you on.

 A row of whistles flood in, the boys start teasing you and praising Bakugou. 

“Lick it off,”  he commands. 

You look down at his leather boot, the ice cream almost melted. There’s still a bright white spot of the sweet now liquid splayed out. Even though it’s not a lot, it still makes you cringe. You peek your shy, little tongue out timidly, forcing yourself to do the heinous deed. 

Bakugou watches you hesitate and pushes on your shoulder harder making you reach towards him. 

You give in after a final attempt, diving into his wishes. Your wet tongue touches the rough, cold leather. You cringe after a single touch, closing your eyes and scrunching your nose at the salty taste. “Clean it all off,” he commands.

You dive back in, this time letting your tongue glide across a larger portion. The humiliation burns through your body. It makes you uncomfortably hot, mostly from anger and but a little bit of arousal.

“Nice ass.” 

There it is. The excitement comes back the moment they start making suggestive comments, the attention riles you up and it’s horrible. 

“Kaminari are you even supposed to be here? Don’t you have a girlfriend?” Mina asks at the blonde pervert who was currently zooming on your ass. 

“Oh? We’re cool as long as I don’t stick my dick her,” he points to you. “That’s hella fucking tempting but I’m in love, dude.” He chuckles to himself, thinking about his girlfriend. 

They treat you like an object, talking about you like you were some sort of a toy. 

“Bet her pussy is tight,” Sero says. 

Kirishima turns to Bakugou, looking at him with pleading eyes. “Yo, Bakubro, can we touch her?” 

Bakugou looks on from watching you lick his boot and turns to Kirishima. A dark, unsettling gaze falls across his eyes as he speaks, “No. This one is mine.” he stares down at you. 

You stop lapping on his shoe and stand back on your knees, buckling your knees you try to get up but Bakugou harshly kicks your shoulder, throwing you back and making you cry. 

“Why did you do that?” you squeal, holding onto your bruised shoulder, glaring at him intently. 

The rest of the group goes quiet at the display of Bakugou’s sudden violence. 

He stands between your thighs, lazily resting his foot atop of your soft thighs. 

“You’re fucking pathetic, you know that?” the angle you were spread out in had your skirt flipped over hips, displaying your pretty, pastel panties to everyone in the room. 

Even though it’s subtle, masked by everyone’s fear of what Bakugou was planning, you still feel everyone’s gaze focused right on you and more specifically at your clothed cunt. Bakugou presses hard on your thigh making you cry. 

“Useless Deku’s friends are just like him. The fucking second you walked in here, I knew you were just another useless insect for me to stomp on.” He pauses, smirking, pressing his foot onto you even harder, twisting his ankle to increase the burning sting surging across your right thigh. “And I’m doing just that.” 

He steps off you for a moment, letting you catch your breath and recover from the burn. His eyesight travels lower down to your panties. He admires the cute pair you had on. Normally when he’d see girls naked, they’d dress themselves up the most luxurious to match his standards. But that’s not you, that could never be you. 

He rejoices at the thought of seeing your flushed, tear-stained face breaking down under him. You’ll never be like those girls, always a step behind. He can build you up and break you however he likes, you’d have no say in it. 

The power trip drives him crazy. 

He presses the tip of his boot over your clothed clothed cunt, pushing the hard material right over your sensitive clit. 

You gasp at the feeling, looking up at him with terrified eyes. He smirks down at you, moving his foot in a steady rhythm, rubbing the fabric of your cotton panties against your little pearl. 

“This turning you on? What a freak.” The rest of his group basks in shock. They watch intently as the scene spiraled out for them, too captivated to make any comments. They just keep quiet and stare. 

The way you squirm under Bakugou as he plays with your cute clit so unforgivingly makes them hot with excitement. Kaminari feels a little guilty but he blames it on his nature as a man.

Sero feels a little bad for you, they all do. But then again they wouldn’t waste the opportunity to be in Bakugou’s footsteps- literally. 

“You’re a little slut, you know that?” Bakugou sneers. 

Your gasps turn into whimpers as his simulation becomes harder. You clench your fists, desperately wishing it to be over. Tears brim in your eyes at the sheer humiliation of your corrupted form. This was just too much, too much for you to handle. 

“Please, stop,” you beg, knowing he wouldn't listen. “I’ll report you,” you cry.  A roar of laughter starts, shutting you up. 

“Go for it, you do that.” Mina comments. Kaminari walks closer to you, bringing the camera down to your face recording your horrified expressions. 

“We’ll just go ahead and post this online.” he threatens. 

A drop of tear falls down your waterline following a waterfall. You cry, leave all of your dignity behind and cry. You beg them to stop but as your pleas mix with your moans, it’s hard for anyone to understand what you’re saying. It’s not like they don’t know what you’re asking them for, they just turn deaf, simply because they can. 

Bakugou stops, he takes a step back, leaving you alone. You let out the tiniest cry when he leaves, ditching you just when you need his touch the most. 

“Feels like I’m doing too much of the work, if you want it so bad, do this yourself.” He says. Your body still burns with desire, your clit still hard and cunt salivating, you are nowhere close to being done... 

It’s as if something takes over and you are possessed by the dire need to cum, you do exactly as he says. 

You snake your fingers down your panties, deliberately rubbing on your swollen little clit before pushing your finger into your drenched cunt. You cry out as you clench around your finger, the pleasure becoming unbearable. Your legs shake and you close your eyes shut. 

You stay there on the floor, fingering yourself in the corridor, without any shame, while Kaminari records all of it. 

“She’s gonna give me a hard-on,” Kirishima says and you moan.

“She really is a slut, huh?” Sero comments. 

“She’s cute,” Mina adds with a smile. 

Bakugou scoffs, “does Deku know how much of a whore you are?” He asks. 

You don’t pay any attention to what he says, too busy bringing yourself to your climax.

“You’re getting all this right?” Mina looks over Kaminari’s shoulder and onto the phone screen which captures you beautifully losing yourself for everyone to see. 

“You close?” Bakugou asks as you feel yourself clench around fingers tightly, he bends down on his and pulls your panties down your hips, admiring your precious cunt. 

“Cute pussy,” he remarks before flicking your sensitive, hardened clit.

A rush of pleasure washes down your body as you cry while cumming. Bakugou pushes you right over the edge, a nasty grin screaming atop his face as he watches you. You curse at yourself for letting him see you like this, but there’s not much you can do but cry while you feel your juices gush around you before sliding down your thighs and onto the dirty floor. 

It takes a second for you to calm down and when you do come to your senses, dread fills you up. Tears shamelessly fall down your face as you realize what you just did. The others laugh at you, without feeling any remorse. 

Bakugou continues to stare at you with an unsettling look, while the others discuss the heinous crime you’ve just committed. 

Sero looks down at you and you catch his dark eyes staring at you. A toothy grin scavenges his face as he speaks. 

“Awesome,” he says as if he just finished some mediocre movie. 

Finally, you find the courage to get up and run. 

This was totally not awesome. 

#tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #tw: blackmail #tw: filming w/o consent #bakugou.🧡 #plaything #bakugou x reader #yandere bakugou #yandere!bakugou #yandere bakugou smut #bakugou x reader smut #bakugou x you #bakugou x fem!reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou katsuki #bakugou smut #bakugou headcanons #bakugou #bnha bakugou #kirishima x reader #sero x reader #kaminari x reader #mina x reader #bnha #bnha fanfiction #bnha smut #bnha x reader #bnha yandere #fanfiction #my hero academia

[five-rivers]

Danger First

Chapter 5

@pocketramblr :3

The day started off well. Really, it did. Izuku got up on time, still filled with warm fuzziness from the time he spent with his friends (friends!) the afternoon before, had a good breakfast, left early enough to catch an earlier train, saw an interesting hero fight, and then...

He was hit with a wave of nausea as he caught sight of the crowd outside UA's gates. Was it a mob? An attack? Terrorists?

... Reporters?

Yeah, those were cameras and microphones. But why was a crowd of reporters making him feel this way?

Maybe they were terrorists disguised as reporters. Or, maybe Izuku had picked up some paranoia to go with his anxiety. How fun.

If they were real reporters, they were probably here about All Might. Him cutting back on active hero work to teach had been big news.

Ughhhh. What should he do? Whoever they were, they weren't likely to leave. He didn't want to walk through them, though. What if they were dangerous? (And even if they weren't, he didn't want reporters looking at him, asking him questions. What would he say to them?)

He bit his lip and watched the crowd from around his chosen corner. Why did he have to be so wimpy and timid? He was a hero student, now. He should be better. Braver.

Oh! There was Iida!

He scuttled over to his friend.

"Ah! Midoriya! You're early today! Few people arrive at school at the same time I do!"

"Y-yeah! I managed to catch the earlier train today, so..." He looked back at the crowd of reporters. Maybe reporters. Maybe terrorists. "I think, maybe we should wait to go in as a group, though. I mean, it'll be more efficient than trying to fight through those reporters one at a time, right?"

"An excellent idea, Midoriya!" exclaimed Iida, waving his hands enthusiastically. "It's very admirable of you, to always be thinking about how to help others."

"W-well," said Izuku, blushing. It wasn't untrue, but it also wasn't the whole story. "I mean, I don't... It's more that they kind of freak me out a bit? The reporters..."

Iida nodded sagely. "There are heroes like that, too. Are you planning on going underground, then?"

There was a certain amount of appeal to underground heroics, but he was supposed to be All Might's successor. Then again, if One for All never worked properly for him and Mr. Yagi asked for it back... Quirk or not, Izuku was here, now, in UA, in the hero course, and Mr. Yagi had said he could be a hero without a quirk.

"I haven't really decided yet. But UA teaches all hero course students the three main branches of heroics, so we don't really have to choose a specialty until later, and even then there are heroes like Sir Nighteye who blur the lines, right?"

"Yes, it's one of the things that make UA such a superior institution!" chortled Monoma.

"Ah, Monoma! I agree! It is important for all heroes to be aware of the work their colleagues do, and to be well-rounded individuals!"

Monoma!?

"Um," said Izuku. "When did you get here?"

"Just a minute ago," said Monoma. "I was looking for a way around these savages when I overheard your conversation. Really, it's a shame that UA allows such rabble to prevent students from entering. If only there was something they could do..."

"I'm afraid I must disagree," said Iida. "Freedom of the press is exceedingly important for the function of society!"

Monoma looked slightly alarmed. "I don't mean to say it isn't, it's just-" he gestured at the gates, "-we can't get in. The other entrances are like this, too. It's aggravating."

"There... might be another way in," said Iida, after a moment.

"Oh?"

"Yes, my brother told me about a hidden entrance that was here when he attended UA. I suppose... I suppose these would be the right circumstances to use it."

"Lead the way, then, Iida," said Monoma.

Iida nodded stiffly. "We should wait and see if any of our classmates would like to come with us."

Several of their classmates did want to come with them, including Uraraka, Asui (who was still a little under the weather), Tokoyami (Dark Shadow was not a fan of flashing lights), and Hagakure. They were also joined by a couple of 1-B students, a cadre of business course kids, and a pink haired support course girl who seemed very interested in Iida's legs, much to his flustered confusion.

Kacchan did not join them, much to Izuku's dismay, instead choosing to bulldoze his way through the ranks of reporters, nearly giving Izuku a heart attack when he body-checked a man with blue-white hair.

At this point, their group was becoming rather large and noticeable, and Iida was getting antsy about the time, so off they went.

Iida led them to what appeared to be an entirely unnoteworthy piece of wall and knocked. There was a pause just long enough to make Iida start to sweat, and then the wall opened, revealing Midnight- Ms. Kayama!

"Oh?" she said, clearly delighted. "Chibiida using the top secret teacher's entrance? Has high school done what we couldn't? Are you finally loosening up?"

Chibiida.

Chibiida.

CHIBIIDA.

First: how? Why? Iida was over ten centimeters taller than Izuku! Secondly: Iida was never going to recover from this.

"That- that's not it! At all! I am simply attempting to help my fellow students enter the school without being harassed by reporters, Ms. Kayama!"

"You can still call me big sis Nemuri, you know."

"I refuse! It would be inappropriate of me as a student!"

Ms. Kayama sighed. "Well, you aren't wrong about those reporters. They can be a pain. So, just this once, let me welcome you kids to the forbidden environs of the staff area!" She made a grandiose gesture with her arm. "And it's all thanks to Chibiida here."

Iida started muttering about propriety and rules.

Izuku had the feeling it would be a long day.

.

"All right, Hikage, in your professional opinion-"

"What does building inspecting have to do with anything?"

"What?" said Nana. "I didn't say anything about building inspecting."

"You asked for my professional opinion."

"Yes?" said Nana, already dreading where this would go.

"I was a vigilante. For the purposes of money, I was a professional, licensed building inspector."

"I thought you were a professional hermit," said En.

"I was an amateur hermit. You don't get paid for that."

En blinked. "I can't believe people let you into their buildings."

"There were a few times-"

Nana decided to table the question of how neither she nor En had known Hikage was a building inspector. "Okay, fine. Forget the professional part. In your opinion, what was going on with that one reporter guy?"

"Oh," said Hikage. "He's definitely planning a murder."

"A murder!" exclaimed Yoichi.

"Yes, and probably of someone close to Ninth."

"Why didn't you say something?" demanded Yoichi, attempting to lift the taller man up by the front of his shirt and failing.

"Because there's not much we can do about it?"

"Just because you're right doesn't mean I have to like it!" He spun on his heel and stalked up to the silent and incomplete ghost of Toshinori. "It had better not be you, do you hear me? Don't you dare pull an Obi-Wan on poor, sweet Izuku!"

"Does anyone know what he's talking about?" asked Nana.

"Not really," admitted Banjo.

.

"Today," said Mr. Aizawa, after he finished passing out feedback from the battle trial, "you'll pick a class president."

All around Izuku, his classmates threw their hands into the air, eager for the chance to show off their leadership skills.

Izuku kept his hand down. It wasn't that he didn't want to stand out or do the work! It was just... between training after school with Mr. Yagi and Aizawa and trying to get his anxiety under control, he didn't think he'd do a very good job.

.

Yoichi started disappearing his "Izuku for President" banners.

.

Iida, though... Iida would do well, Izuku thought. Look at him, organizing everyone into a vote.

"You're not running, Midori?" asked Hagakure.

"N-no, haha, I have too many other commitments to do a good job, I think."

"That's too bad! I would have voted for you."

There was a smattering of agreement, mostly from Iida and Uraraka. Izuku started blushing.

"R-really? Why?"

("Strawberry," someone whispered.)

"Well, you helped me out during the entrance exam, and you were pretty cool during training yesterday." More agreement. "But if you're not running, I guess I'll pick Monoma. He did get rid of the purple creep."

"Ahahaha, yes, I am clearly the superior candidate!" crowed Monoma, standing up and putting his foot on his chair to pose.

"But his personality's really weird, which is why you would have been my first choice, Midoriya."

"I think Iida would be a good choice!" said Uraraka, raising her hand. "He's super organized and he helped a bunch of us get past the reporters this morning."

More general agreement. Then Todoroki cleared his throat. Everyone looked at him.

"Yaoyorozu," he said.

That was it.

"Good point," agreed Jirou.

.

"A TIE?!"

.

As the only one who hadn't voted for one of the three in the tie, Aoyama was forced to be the tiebreaker. This was done as dramatically as humanly possible.

Yaoyorozu was now president of class 1-A.

This led to a ferocious battle between Monoma and Iida that Iida won by a single vote. Monoma was promptly chosen as class treasurer. Just in time for their other classes.

.

"Those who possess forbidden knowledge should stay together," said Tokoyami gravely as he sat down with Uraraka, Iida, and Izuku.

"Are you talking about the staff area?" asked Asui, who slid in after him.

"Indeed," intoned Tokoyami gravely. "The dark path we have all walked-"

"Fumi is just bad at asking people to be his friends!"

"Dark Shadow!"

Izuku almost started crying into his rice. Having friends was so great.

"I'll be your friend!" said Izuku.

"Me, too!" said Uraraka, pumping a fist.

"Ah," said Tokoyami, coughing into a fist. "I am sure we will be great companions in the darkness of the coming days."

Speaking of darkness... Izuku couldn't help but feel uneasy about... something. He had been ever since seeing those reporters.

"So, Midori, is your hair full of secrets?"

"Wh-what?"

"Don't listen to her! She's just being silly! Like a little sister."

"It's what you always say about that actor you like! His hair is fluffy because it's full of secrets!"

"So, you and Dark Shadow are like brother and sister?" asked Midoriya, changing the subject.

The conversation segued into discussion of their families, and just when Iida was extolling the virtues of his older brother, Izuku's unease spiked. He dropped his chopsticks.

"Is something wrong?" asked Uraraka.

"I... don't know? It just feels like something bad is going to-"

The school alarm promptly went off.

.

"Wow!" said Kirishima. "Iida can do entrances and exits! Manly!"

.

"Wow," said Banjo, "I guess they picked the right guy for the job, after all. He can find entrances and exits! More than my class vice president ever did..."

"Are you copying the small red child?" asked Hikage.

"What?"

"Never mind."

.

"Today's heroics class will be focused on how to fall safely and other basic combat techniques. Before we begin, although you may practice these techniques on your own, outside of class, if you want to spar with others, you need adult supervision until you reach a level where I'm satisfied you won't seriously injure yourself or others by mistake. Now, firstly..."

.

"Mr. Aizawa? Is- um. Was it really just the press breaking in earlier?"

It was time for his first special quirk training with Aizawa, and he should be asking what they were doing today (especially since Aizawa had him change out of his gym uniform and back to his regular uniform), but he couldn't stop thinking about the break-in.

"What makes you think otherwise?"

"I'm, well, I'm not sure? I just, this morning, when I saw them, I got a really bad feeling? Like something bad was going to happen. And it doesn't seem, um, logical, that normal reporters would be able to do that to UA's gate. I mean, anyone can have any quirk- no such thing as a villainous quirk. But someone with a quirk like that, they'd put a lot of effort into controlling it and stuff so stuff like this wouldn't happen by mistake. I guess a reporter could have done it on purpose, though, but then it'd be really easy for UA to find out it was them, wouldn't it? Or the police. Since heroes and police have access to the national quirk registry, so you just have to cross-reference reporters with the registry to find quirks that could fit. But would they know that? Anyway, it seems more logical for a third party to have used the press as cover to infiltrate the school. But why? If nothing is missing and no one is hurt, which would be grounds for school being canceled, the next conclusion would be information gathering. But that still leaves the question of the ultimate ends- Mr. Aizawa? Are you okay?"

His teacher had been glaring at a camera mounted in the corner of the classroom and mouthing things at it.

"I'm fine," said Aizawa. He sighed. "You are right that we haven't located the person who destroyed the gates, but please be assured that we are investigating the incident throughly. Especially Principal Nezu." He shot another glare at the camera, as if to say he'd better be.

"Regardless, it isn't something you need to worry about as a student. We're adding more safety protocols to make sure it doesn't happen again."

"Oh, okay. S-so, what are we doing today? Sensory deprivation? Electric shocks? Stress positions? Bean bag barrage for dodging? High stakes hell exam?" He was ready for anything and very excited.

Aizawa stared at him flatly. "We're... doing quirk counseling."

"Yes?"

"Kid... except for maybe the last one... what exactly gave you the idea that any of those things had anything to do with quirk counseling?"

Izuku started to get the feeling he'd seriously messed up. Except he didn't feel particularly anxious about it.

"Oh, uh, Mom used to get brochures like that in the mail, after I was diagnosed? She didn't ever answer any, but... Apparently, some people originally thought to be quirkless got quirks after being in a high stress situation."

"But no one actually did any of those things to you."

"Not really?"

"Midoriya..."

Izuku looked away. He shouldn't have said anything. He didn't like the quirk counselor at Eisley Elementary, but he didn't want to get her in trouble, either. After all, he was the only one she had to do that stuff with, since his quirk hadn't shown up...

Aizawa sighed with the air of someone exercising a lot of self-control. "Except for that last one," said Aizawa, "and that's debatable, all of those are torture techniques."

Ah. Well. That maybe explained a few things.

"They are not a normal part of quirk counseling. At some point, we may incorporate some combat into this, but that will be to help you become more familiar with your quirk. Not just for the sake of making you stressed."

"But if we aren't doing combat, what are we doing?"

"Well, first we're going to try to figure out what your quirk is. Why don't you sit down." He took out some papers as Izuku made his way to his desk. "Alright. I'm going to go through these questions and write down your answers... then we're going to go through them again while I'm canceling your quirk." He paused. "Actually, first. What did you mean when you said you had a bad feeling about the reporters?"

.

"If I were alive," said Yoichi, "I would be committing so much murder right now."

"I thought we left this behind when Ninth graduated," said Nana. "I thought you said you were going to forgive them because they were stupid kids and Ninth forgave them."

"Well, first off, I lied. Secondly, teachers aren't kids. If we ever get hit by a quirk that brings us back to life, the quirk counselor at his old school will be my first victim."

Nana sighed. "That isn't going to happen."

"Who's going to stop me?"

"Less a who, and more the fact that there has never been a quirk that could revive the dead."

"Meaningless!" exclaimed Yoichi. "Death cannot stop me!"

"Think he's finally lost it after all this time?" asked En, leaning towards Nana.

"No, I think he's just messing with us," hoped Nana.

.

"Alright, kid," said Aizawa exhaustion evident in his tone. "Between your answers, your exam results, the battle trial results, how you react when I use my quirk on you, and Monoma's assessment... Your quirk is at least partially sensory.",

Izuku tried not to feel disappointed, but that seemed rather incomplete as a conclusion. Even though he knew about Danger Sense and this probably was Danger Sense.

"Yeah, I know, it's underwhelming, but remember this is the first session. Whatever your quirk actually does, though, you seem to be using it to detect threats."

Okay, that was more in line with expectations.

"I mean... maybe? I think so. That feels right."

"We also need to figure out what it's stockpiling. Have you ever felt any particular draw to certain situations? More than your peers?"

"Um. I watch a lot of hero fights?"

"You're a fight chaser?"

"A little bit?" admitted Izuku, squirming a little.

Aizawa sighed heavily. "I seriously hope your quirk doesn't stockpile danger- don't test that."

He wasn't going to!

Probably.

Speaking of, though, what did One for All actually stockpile? Power was a very vague description... He'd just went along with it because a) quirk and b) All Might, but it would probably be good to know.

"Next time we meet, I'll be running you through the basic quirk assessment battery- that's a series of tests usually given to five-year-olds to help their pediatric quirk doctors and quirk counselors identify difficult or stubborn quirks. You should have gone through it when you were younger."

Izuku shook his head. "All I remember is the x-ray."

"Why would you get an x-ray?"

"For the toe joint? To tell whether or not I was quirkless?" Why was he saying this? He was going to blow his cover and his secret out of the water! This was so dumb.

But he did say it. Maybe it was his guilty conscience from lying to and misleading Mr. Aizawa so much.

"That's a myth," said Aizawa.

"What?"

"It isn't true." Aizawa began to slump down in his seat. "It's an old wives' tale. Everyone quirkless has the double joint, but not everyone with the double joint is quirkless. I have the double joint, as do about twenty-five percent of people with meta quirks." By the time he finished, only the top half of his face was visible.

"Oh," said Izuku. He wasn't sure what else to say. At least the secret of One for All was completely intact.

"I hate to say this, kid, but it sounds like everyone involved in your early quirk education was incredibly incompetent. You shouldn't have had to deal with that, even if you were truly quirkless. It takes just as much counseling to deal with that in today's day and age as something like, say, Ashido's quirk."

Izuku had never heard it put like that before. "Okay."

"Now, before I send you off for today, do you have any questions about anything we'll be doing? Any of the tests we'll be running, normal quirk counseling procedures, anything. It's important for you to feel comfortable about this."

Izuku's eyes teared up. This had already been a very emotional day, and he wasn't sure a teacher had ever asked him that and meant it. "Mr. Aizawa," he said, earnestly, "you're the best teacher I've ever had."

"Is that a joke?" asked Aizawa, flatly.

Izuku shook his head, centrifugal force flinging his teardrops away.

"That's messed up, kid. I'm terrible."

"You're the best," protested Izuku.

"I just need you to know how incredibly low that bar is. Your other teachers must have gotten shovels to dig tunnels under it. They must be dancing limbo in hell."

Izuku blinked. He had no idea what that meant. "I think they're all still alive..."

"Not for long," muttered Aizawa.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #danger first #danger first au #fic #fanfic

[mismess]

Jeremy went to pick up coffee.

Now Jeremy didn’t always drink coffee in the morning but this day he was asked to get some, so while he’s there he might as well indulge. He could use a boost of energy anyway.

So on his usual drive to work he took a small detour to a local coffee shop, he got two coffees, one medium roast with extra milk and sugar, one dark roast with milk and one sugar. He didn’t think to get more, he wasn’t told to get more so why would he?

This dark roast with milk and one sugar had to do with a call, a call he got early in the morning, around 6:30 am, which is too early and it probably woke up half the house, it was Scotty calling from work, Jeremy didn’t think Scott really registered what time it was, he sounded out of it, but still profusely apologized about his request for him to pick up coffee.

This leads back to a scene from earlier in the week, the coffee pot in the break room had been broken leaving the Fazbear employee’s caffeineless, which isn’t a problem for him but Scott seemed rather upset about it, he did recall him often having a cup in hand, might explain some of his jumpiness, perhaps Scott should cut back on the caffeine actually.

Just another unhealthy habit Jeremy thought to himself

But the thing is Scott almost NEVER asks anything of anyone, even if he probably should, so of course Jeremy agreed. He can’t turn down the one time he’s asked for something, even if it fueled that habit, it was the least problematic of them anyway.

So Jeremy picked up the coffee.

As he arrived at the pizzeria and walked inside, the main entrance opened up to a large open room, to the left were tables that costumers sat to eat pizza and watch the animatronic band perform, the flooring was black and white tile while the walls had star patterned wallpaper with colorful images of the band along on some of the walls, other walls had a few drawings from past costumers put up on display. To the right of the entrance he saw Fritz in their usual spot, in the prize corner near the games, while all their jobs were rather loose in nature and you simply go where you’re needed, that was their ‘main’ job, they take tickets and exchange them for prizes, Fritz was often leaving that post however to help a kid cheat at ski ball or something.

The place had been open for just around an hour, there was a couple of older kids lingering around on the arcade games but it was far from busy. Fritz didn’t take notice that Jeremy had arrived as they were messing with the little prizes behind the counter, such as the finger traps and those rubber poppers. He liked those poppers if he was being honest, and sometimes took one for his own enjoyment.

Jeremy walked past the prize corner and towards the break room, it always felt rude to talk to someone unless they were close enough to him, -what that distance was exactly he didn’t really know himself, depended on the mood and person-, or if said person directly talked to him first, and it felt silly to walk all the way up to someone just to say hello and turn away. So he stayed quiet. This sometimes labeled him as rude either way if someone expected a greeting and he didn’t supply.

He opened the break room door to find Scotty sitting at a table, slumped forward propping his head up with his hands while rubbing his temples with his thumbs, but when he heard the door he looked up, almost in a startled fashion, but that friendly crooked smile he always has on quickly replaced his nervous face.

Jeremy liked that crooked smile, it always leaned towards the right of his face, showing off his dimple on that side.

Underneath his smile however he looked tired, and it seemed like he just got more worn down with every day that went by. Scotty’s always been an overachiever when it came to work, he took long hours and probably did the equivalent of three people's jobs at the same time, but lately it seemed like it’s taken a toll on him. Jeremy’s tried to discourage this behavior in the past but that would usually just end with Scott finding a way to weasel his way out of those conversations.

There wasn’t much to the break room, it had a couple of plain tables strewn about with mismatched chairs surrounding them, a counter against the wall to the left of the entrance with a microwave sitting on it, the coffee pot formerly sat next to it as well, with a couple of cupboards above it that didn’t house much of anything besides a few cups, and at the end of the counter a fridge.

“I’m here.” Jeremy announced, giving him a quick smile

“Oh thank God! I have such a headache-” Scotty said as he shot out of his chair and walked over to Jeremy

Jeremy held out the dark roast with milk and one sugar to Scott

Scott took it and realized he wasn’t being very polite, “OH- Sorry, uh- Hello! How ya doing?” he asked, but quickly followed it up with another question “ Oh, how much was it?”

“Um. I’m fine. And you don’t have to worry about payment.” Jeremy reassured him

“Nonsense!” Scott said, reaching into his pocket “You are NOT paying for my addictions... Ah-!”

“- That’ll do!” Scott said while handing him a crumpled-up wad of spare change, just looking at it Jeremy could tell it was way too much for one dark roast with milk and one sugar.

Before Jeremy could say anything the break room door swung open again as Fritz walked in

“Ooooh, coffee!” Fritz said as they walked by Jeremy “Didn’t get me one~?” Fritz said in a tone that seemed playful, but Jeremy couldn’t quite tell if it was. He’s never been good at picking up tones very well.

“I didn’t know you wanted one, I’m sorry.” Jeremy said. He should have got more coffee, for everyone.

“Nah it’s ok, Jere, I’m joking, I’m sure Scotty called before I was even here.” Fritz said leaning on Scott’s shoulder while he sipped on his dark roast with milk and one sugar

“Wait a minute-” Jeremy started as he realized what time Scott really did call at “You did call from here right? Just how early did you get here?”

But before Scott was able to answer Fritz piped in instead "Dude, he’s BEEN here since 12 last night!” they gave Scott a friendly nudge, but as Scott pulled the coffee away from his mouth he gave out this nervous chuckle

“Wait- wait- Scott, you’re working the night shift?” Jeremy asked, he suddenly felt a sense of dread at the mention of it

“Um. Uh- Yeah, heh...” Scott said awkwardly

Jeremy hadn’t realized Scott had taken over the night shift, no wonder this man seemed more exhausted than usual.

“But you’re here during the day all the time!” Jeremy stated “Ok- Just how many double shifts do you take?”

“Uh- W-Whatever I’m a- asked..?” Scott said with a nervous grin, his shoulders raised up as if to brace himself, he put his coffee down on the table

“Scott-- God the night shift-- Do you LEAVE?”

“O- Of course! I can’t live here!”

“You say that like you would if you could!” Jeremy was obviously showing frustration in his voice, he didn’t mean to but the amount of work this man did stressed Jeremy out, and the night shift stressed him out even more

“Well- I mean- I’m not doing anything else anyway-” Scott started

“Well you should! Scotty you’re already working so many hours, do you sleep?! You have to realize this isn’t healthy-!” Jeremy was cut off by the break room door opening again

William stood in the doorway, his usual calm demeanor did not seem to be about him today, his brow furrowed and shoulders hunched in a manner unlike him “... What is going on in here?” he asked

“- Brought up Scott’s poor work-life balance, now the boys are fighting.” Fritz told him

William pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed “... Ok. I don’t care- There’s currently no employees out on the floor and a birthday party in an hour, can we stop the chit-chat and get things moving.” he snapped

“Yes, you’re right, William!” Scott quickly moved past William out the door on to the floor, obviously glad to find a reason to stop the conversation. William followed.

Jeremy took a deep breath as he watched him walk away “... You think Scotty works too much too, right?” he turned to Fritz, hoping he had an ally, fearing he might be coming off a little too overprotective.

“Oh definitely,” Fritz replied “He’s stubborn when it comes to work tho, you can’t get that guy to sit down. Seeing as you didn’t know he’s on the night shift I guess you haven’t seen his schedule, you should take a look, that thing is a MESS.”

Fritz walked out the door as well, leaving Jeremy alone with his medium roast with extra milk and extra sugar. He didn’t like the mood that was left hanging in this room, he felt bad for getting upset with Scotty, his problems wouldn’t improve just cause Jeremy got fussy with him. But Scotty always pushed these things aside, insisting they could “bring it up later” or “it’s not that bad” or simply just changing the subject, he didn’t know how to talk about it with him without getting fussy at this point.

It seemed like most of their recent conversations ended in frustration. Scotty grew a lot more distant after The Bite, and didn’t tell him about anything anymore, and if asked he would brush him off, he stopped having lunch with him or Fritz and usually spent most his time working or talking with William so any time for socializing was spent elsewhere. He missed his friend.

He didn’t want to just drop it but he didn’t know what more he could do, if Scotty didn’t want his help he can’t force him to talk to him or make him take less hours.

... The night shift...

Jeremy had sworn off the night shift after his first and only week on it, he didn’t like thinking about it, but the reason it was so bad was the animatronics weren’t right, they had something wrong with them, which is why they were scrapped. Those animatronics that seemed out for his blood weren’t in use anymore, and with them the problems of the night shift were gone. At least that’s what William said, Jeremy had no intentions of seeing that for himself, just the thought gave him anxieties.

But that means at least Scott would have the 6 hours to just sit down and relax, right?

He still didn’t think it was good, and Scott definitely should be taking more time off, but maybe Jeremy’s reaction was a bit unwarranted. He would apologize for his harsh tone when he got the chance.

Jeremy took both his medium roast with extra milk and sugar and the half-drunken dark roast with milk and one sugar and put them in the break room’s fridge, maybe they could drink them at lunch together later he thought.

and he got to work.

#What prompted this? idk. just wanted to write SOMETHING suddenly #jeremy fitzgerald #phone guy #fritz smith #fnaf #writing #can't even tell if i like this but I've put hours in it now so lmao HEEERRE <3 #scotty guy

[yandere-wishes]

A Rose By Any Other Name Would Still Be As Sweet //Twisted Wonderland Malleus Draconia//

Since the vote ended up differing by one, with at least four people voting for both I have no choice but to write both stories. But for today, it's Malleus' turn

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No matter how long you stayed in the Ramshackle dorm, there was always an aline feeling that bubbled in your gut. There was just something about your new home that made you feel out of place and very, very alone. Even with the understanding that Grim sleeping at the foot of your bed and Ace or Deuce being just a quick phone call away, you couldn't shake how foreign you felt. 

It seemed like every moment you laid in your bed listing to Grim's soft murmurs about the new Unidragon he had fallen for, made the feeling grow stronger. It's cold long limbs descended from your brain, wrapping around your throat and prohibiting air to pass through. You laid there for a moment longer begging the feeling to depart. In the end, you gave up, gradually pushing over the covers and making your way outside. Maybe some fresh air was all you really needed to make the tendrils of isolation and dread leave you alone for the remainder of the night. 

The inside of the "abandoned" dormitory was always a mess, no matter how much you cleaned or how much the ghost (and occasionally) Grim tried to keep things in order, the dorm just tended to fall apart again. This being said the outside was no better. The garden's where empty, the poltergeist insisted they remain that way so they would have enough room to play magical shift. The front yard was nothing more than a graveyard with a stone pathway leading off towards the school. It didn't help put your mind at ease, instead, the whole morbid scene of the tombstones simply made you cry. Tear flew like a stream from your glossy eyes. Quiet sobs pushing past your lips no matter how much you tried to remain silent.  

"Are you the child of man?" 

The sudden voice made you jump setting your nerves on high alert. Your wet eyes traveled upwards being met with a shadow figure looming around by the tombstones. "W-What..?" you choked, your gorge was still hoarse from the crying and mini breakdown. Your heart had sped up, something was very wrong here. For a moment you debated running back into the house but your feet just wouldn't move. 

The figure stalked closer, dead leaves screaming under his heavy step. As he approached, little (y/n) took note of two large curved horns sprouting from atop his mess of raven lock. The darlings orbs locked on the odd features. They weren't mortifying or bizarre, lord knew she'd seen much worst during her stay. If anything they piked her curiosity. The tall man came to a stop in front of her, his blazing eyes seem to be the made up entirely of glowing poisons you'd seen in your potion classes. In the moonlight, you could tell that his skin was as white as the freshly fallen snow. He was mesmerizing, exquisite and...he was smiling at you?

 His lips were pulled back into a glowing grin. You seemed to have piked his curiosity too. "Are you the new inhabitant of the dorm?" his voice was breathy and seemed to float on the air around you. "I um y-yeah" you'd forgotten just how broken your voice was, unlike his elegant tone yours was brittle and crumbling. You took a deep breath, welcoming the much-needed air your lips slowly parted tongue peaking out and licking along with them. You tried again hoping your voice actually worked this time, "W-who are you?"

The stranger lifted an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly to the side. "You don't know who I am?" confusion evident on his tone. "Should I?" you asked, he could be some sort of celebrity or another school perfect, either way, you were too new and inexperienced to truly know who anyone in this world was. "I guess not, no, I'm just a third at the school. Pray, tell what year are you? Can you even do magic?"

He sure was inquisitive, you give him that. From the little, you did know, third-year seniors in Night Raven were usually more comprised, collected and mature than the two younger years. Surely it would bring you no harm to entertain him with a few simple answers about yourself.

"I'm a first-year class 1-A." The horned man scrunched his brows a slight wrinkle forming on the bridge of his nose. "Isn't that the class of troublemakers?" it was like he was recalling something distant as if he was looking through you into a past life he had left behind some time ago. 

"I-I wouldn't know" your graze fell to the broken asphalt. Did the headmaster really consider you a troublemaker? Even, after all, you'd done for him from the dammed moment you'd fallen through that godforsaken mirror. He just shrugged seeming to have returned from his little stroll down memory lane. "It may have changed, it been quite some time since I was a freshman" His voice was fading again eyes losing their shine once more. You figure it best to continue talking before he's too far gone "no I-I um can't perform magic".

"Then why even bother staying in school and going to classes?"

You sign and began to recount how you fell through a magic mirror and the misadventures that followed. At the end of your tale, the shine seemed to have been reignited in his eyes if anything it was brighter then before. "You from another world?!" He asks kneeling down to look at you face to face. "My that's all so fascinating! Lilia use to tell me old tales about foreign universes I never thought they were actually real! Yet here you are!" It was the first time you'd heard him raise his voice. Did your story really entertain him so much? The stranger may have been tall and talked as though he was born centuries ago but there loomed a childish nature around him. "Hey, who's Lilia?" it was your turn to ask the questions. 

"Oh, he's my...father...no...nanny? I'm not...sure? His voice kept diving into uncertainty and resurfacing only to down once more. "You don't know the difference between a nanny and your own father?" not only was he childish he downright didn't seem to comprehend what a family even was. "Difficult childhood" he brushed it off as if it were merely a pesky fly bussing by his head "now miss...I apologies where are my manners I never asked for your name?" Oh right! It just dawned on you that you had nither given your own name nor asked for his, the lack of sleep and constant looming anxiety plus the constant run-ins with delinquent students who much prefer to fight than to exchange compellations, had left you forgetting your own manners. 

"(y/n)...(y/n) (l/n) so-called dorm leader of the Ramshackle dorm" 

He let out out a chortling laugh before turning on his heels and stalking back into the shadows "Well (y/n) of Ramshackle it was a pleasure meeting you I do hope we meet again" No sooner had the words departed from his lips that the darkness seemed to gobble him up. "Wait!" you leaped to your feet and ran over to where the man had just disappeared. "I-I didn't get your name!" you called into the nothingness that surrounded you. Your shoulder slumped as you let out a defeated breath, it was no use the moonlit stranger was no more. For a second you debated if he'd even been real or if your fatigued mind had started to play tricks on you. Regardless it was no use waiting out here, you had classes tomorrow and from what you could tell you'd only be getting a few short hours of rest. Overactive mind permitting that is. 

Little did you know that the man had in fact been real. That like clockwork every night since the encounter you dreamed of the stranger again. His lips where always on your a burst of sour blackberries invading your mouth, overrunning your senses. 

one night the dream seemed more lucid than ever before, the night where he was on top of you, your bodies entwined on the cold ground of the cemetery front yard. As time progressed the dreams got more vivid more detailed, the tastes and touches and bruises seemed to follow you into the land of the awoken. 

You were slowly spiraling down a maniacal hole. The line between reality and dreams was so blurred it was practically invisible. You waited impatiently each morning to drift back into sleep and meet your lover once more. To feel his smooth fingers run up and down your spin. To feel his sharp teeth graze your delicate flesh. 

you knew him, you walked with upon your dreams

Oh but darling, he is more than a dream, Malleus Draconia is indeed real. And he is in love, in love with you. He's visited you every single night since your first meeting all so many nights ago. He's well aware that you aren't quite aware that he exists and that he is more than a figment of your imagination. It's a benefit of having someone's name when under the control of the fae they can't quite tell what is real and what isn't. For now, this is alright, for now, he's content with your nightly rendezvous. 

But one day he shall awaken you from your honey-sweet dreams and steal you into a blurry reality where the border of dream and reality has been obliterated. It may seem like a curse but it's merely a gesture of love. 

In the end, it's your fault, you sealed your fate the day you gave the dark Fae your name. 

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Now I'm seriously considering writing a story based on this quote from Sleeping Beauty.

"from this slumber, you shall wake when true love kisses, the spell shall break"

#twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland malleus draconia #twisted wonderland malleus draconia x reader #twisted wonderland malleus draconia x you #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #malleus draconia x you #yandere malleus draconia #yandere malleus draconia x you #yandere malleus draconia x reader #disney #malificent #yandere #yancore #yandere x reader #yandere x you

[stones-x-bones]

Mind Over Matter || Dani and Bex

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @surmamort and @inbextween SUMMARY: Dani is worried for Bex when she realizes they haven’t talked in a while. They decide to go to Al’s to catch up, but someone else has other plans. CONTENT: Domestic abuse, medical blood 

Dani felt as though she had the right to be worried about Bex. She had seen people disappear. Some came back, some didn’t. She didn’t know if they shared any mutual friends, so it wasn’t like she could ask them if they’d heard from her. Dani had only become worried after three days of silence. It wasn’t like her, Dani thought. Bex loved to talk. Had Dani fucked up during their last meeting? Had Bex had a little more time to think about it and decide that she didn’t need, or want somebody like Dani in her life? Dani thought about what Morgan had said that day in the thrift store, and after that, the way she-- No. She couldn’t think about that. She refused. What she had to do was find Bex. Hadn’t she mentioned being in pre-law? That was a good start. 

Due to her patrol, Dani felt as though she knew the campus like the back of her hand. Though, her memorization skills were unneeded once she spotted her friend. “Bex!” Dani didn’t feel anything different from her. She hadn’t been turned, or bitten, or-- Dani swallowed her anxiety. “Hey,” She said as she walked over, dreading the idea that Bex might get up and leave without so much as a hello. “I’ve been texting you, you didn’t…” She didn’t know what to do with her hands. What was she supposed to do with her hands? She didn’t want to look threatening. Dani forced as natural of a smile as her muscles would allow. “I was worried--” No, that wasn’t it. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” Human? Alive? Not mad at me? She carded her fingers through her hair. “But you look fine-- Great, even. Do you feel great? Sorry.” She forced out a laugh.

The agreement Bex had made with her parents had been a simple one-- drop all of the people in her life who she’d let drag her into the supernatural world, and they’d let her keep studying history instead of law. She would still take over the family business one day, but she’d probably have to marry into another family of lawyers. Her parents were figuring that part out, though. It wasn’t a fair trade, but at least Bex had one thing in her life to look forward to. Most of the people she’d already told she couldn’t talk to them anymore had respected that wish, despite the pained glances and the horrible, horrible feeling in her stomach as she’d watched the realization dawn on Mina’s face. It still made her entire body feel like lead. 

The only person she hadn’t told was Dani. Dani was on the fringes. Her parents didn’t know about Dani. Dani was just a school acquaintance. And if she kept it that way, maybe she could keep her, too. Maybe she could have something good, too. She’d ignored the texts, she hadn’t meant to, but she didn’t know what to say. And when Dani called her name and trotted towards her, she still didn’t know what to say. “I’m, um-- yep!” she squeaked, swallowing hard. “I’m totally fine! Sorry, I haven’t texted, I’ve just been-- so busy. End of the term and all and the whole uh, major shifting thing. So much work! But I’m fine, really. I’m--” her voice cracked and wavered and she had to stop and clear her throat. “Sorry. I’m okay. See?” she held her arms out as if to put herself on display. “I’m alive.”

It was reassuring to see that Bex was alive. But Dani knew that in a town like White Crest, being alive could mean that you were barely living. When Bex showed her arms, Dani couldn't help but laugh. “Stop that,” she reached out to tap her friend’s arm, but her arm fell instead. She dropped her hand into her lap again and looked down at her shoes. “I guess I get the whole studying thing. You know, for somebody who… actually studies.” She worried her lower lip with her teeth before she looked down at her phone as it lit up with a text from Lauren. Deep breaths, she reminded herself. She didn’t feel like sticking around campus. Not that she ever did, but still. She quickly shot a text back to Lauren explaining she’d be home a little later than expected. 

“How’s studying?” Dani asked. She didn’t care, not really. But she wanted to make sure that Bex was okay, and she felt as though only a few seconds would not clear that up for her. “I haven’t started. Honestly, I’m thinking of just taking the failing grade and getting that job as a janitor you recommended.” It was a joke. She actually had been doing some studying. She had already received a C+ on a paper she did entirely on her own. It was about the fall of the Trojan Empire instead of the Byzantine, but it had counted for something. “It’s good to see you haven’t fallen entirely off the face of the planet though,” She commented, looking Bex over for any bruises, any cuts. So she was… living a perfectly normal existence. Or Dani had hoped. Nobody else needed to be sucked into the bullshit that crept through this godforsaken town. 

Bex was glad she was sitting for the moment, shuffling to move her broken, casted foot away from a quick view. If she could help it, she wouldn’t have to show Dani. She still didn’t know what to tell people except that she “fell down the stairs”, but then people would look at her more worried and ask if she needed help and really, she just needed it all to stop. She swallowed and looked back over at Dani, lowering her arms. “I would rather not have the W or the F on my transcripts, yeah,” she agreed, nodding, “if I wanna get into a good master’s program, I have to study.” And she did want to. And maybe she’d go somewhere far, far away from White Crest, away from Mina, so she could clear her head and just be normal and forget about the pain that was stuffing itself into her heart. “Sometimes you do just have to take the L, though, huh? I-If you need help studying, though, I’ve um-- heard that I’m pretty good at that.”

She shuffled the papers around on the table. “Nope, though I might’ve considered jumping into our abyss a few times,” she teased back, but, really, sometimes, it didn’t sound like such a bad option. At least if she was falling forever, she wouldn’t have to go home every night and wonder what the next day would look like. “How um-- how are you? I see you haven’t bit the dust pulling some heroic maneuver.” She motioned to the spot next to her. “You can sit, if you want. I’m almost done.”

It was obvious that the two of them were on entirely different paths. Dani had been certain that their talk at the falls had cemented that fact. Bex was smart, well established, and seemed as though she had a lot going for her. Dani, on the other hand… She was strong and capable, but all in opposite ways. Even though she had lied about not studying, she still felt a pang of guilt for not trying harder in school. Though, what was the point? Dani hadn’t ever dreamt of a master’s program. Not like Bex was. “Yeah, it’s probably important you do decent in class, then.” She knew that for many, escaping White Crest was the end goal. For Dani, the thought had never occurred. Even with everything that had happened, it still wasn’t something she could ever seriously consider. The town needed her. The people in it needed her, whether she was close to them or not. She wasn’t sure what she could do for them, though, when she had already failed so many. Dani forcibly cleared her throat, pulling herself from her own thoughts. “Oh, no. Don’t worry about me. Wouldn’t want to waste your time.” It would be pointless, Dani thought. 

Bex’s words caused a crease in Dani’s brow to form. She refrained from telling Bex that it wasn’t funny. She instead wrung her hands together and took a seat at Bex’s guidance. “I’m fine,” Dani smiled. She wasn’t dead. She was still doing her job, even if it felt heavier since her run-in with the portal that had opened and swallowed her whole. But still, she was there. Living, breathing. It was all she could ask for until she wasn’t. “It hasn’t taken me yet, so…” She shrugged. “Looks like I’ll be around for a bit longer.” Maybe, she didn’t add. She looked down at her feet, and then towards Bex’s feet. The boot was hard to miss. “Yo, what the fuck happened to your foot?” She asked, eyebrows raised. “You held out your arms and everything, I thought you were good.” Dani scooted close, but not too close, remembering the way that Bex had recoiled from her the night that she had been saved from the vampire in the parking lot. Still a decent amount of space between them, she pointed at the boot with an outstretched finger. “You’re gonna have to let me sign the cast.” She froze for a moment, Milo’s face flickering before her. She shook it off easily and crossed her fingers. “Swear I won’t write anything weird.” 

“Probably,” Bex agreed quietly, but the future was something she hadn’t considered anymore. Not since it was taken from her. Not since the one thing she did want had been taken from her. No, not taken. Abandoned. Bex had been the one to leave, not Mina. She folded up her papers and crossed her arms in front of her, leaning against the table. “It wouldn’t be a waste,” she said, looking sideways at Dani as she stretched her legs out. “I like helping others, so even if you ended up failing, it wouldn’t be a waste.” It was one of the few things left in life that brought her joy. She wished she’d never left, but there was no going back. Wishes were for fools.

“Well, good,” she said, glancing sideways at her. Maybe this could be okay. Maybe she could keep Dani. Maybe Dani could be her one connection to the world she longed to be a part of. Aside from Eddie, she was all she had. She could barely even bring herself to talk to Kyle, and he had nothing to do with all that. Well, except the werewolf thing, but they didn’t really talk about that. Not when it was still...raw. Bex glanced around and found the study hall getting emptier, and her heart began to squeeze. She liked being in full rooms now, where it wasn’t just her and one other person. No one could take her if she was in a crowded room. Her gaze dropped to her feet. Shit. “I--” was kidnapped and chased barefoot through the forest while my ex hunted me down and tried to take me away, “I’m pretty clumsy, remember? I just tripped on a tree branch and twisted it real bad. Stupid me…” She tucked her legs back in and fiddled with her papers. “Hey, you um-- wanna get outta here? Maybe go grab a milkshake or something?” Not that she could drink a milkshake, but she really didn’t want to be here anymore, and maybe she just wanted something good. Just one thing, please.

“Well, if I fail, I’ll make sure not to blame you.” Dani knew it was pointless. Truthfully, even if Bex didn’t find it as a waste of time, she knew that she would. She’d rather Bex focus on more important things, like whether or not her dress matched her shoes, or if she had enough time to grab a coffee before her next study session. Dani didn’t need to be involved in that, she didn’t need to take up somebody’s time, not when Dani knew her truth of where she’d end up. 

Dani barely looked up at the sound of shuffling footsteps. She could see everything. At least, for the most part. She could hear it, too. She might not have supersonic hearing, but she had learned from an early age how to listen for things, for disturbances. For now, there was nothing. She didn’t anticipate there to be, even with the depleted crowd. Dani could tell that Bex was trying to figure out how to explain her foot and she felt a pang of frustration. Had something happened to her to make her this way? She forced herself to wait for the explanation, rather than jumping to conclusions. If she did that, who would it help? “A tree branch…?” Dani stared at Bex a beat of a second too long, eyebrows still furrowed. “Okay…” If that was the story Bex wanted to go with, then Dani would go with it. Hell, maybe it was true. Maybe Bex was the one person to trip over a tree branch instead of having some terrifying and traumatic experience that bent and broke her bones. Just maybe Dani could have one person that avoided all that shit. Save for the vampire attack, but Dani had taken care of that. Bex’s pause made Dani’s expression soften. Her offer stuck out like a sore thumb, like a cry for help from the amount of studying she’d been doing. Dani smiled. “Switch that to smoothie and you’ve got a deal.” Fuck lactose intolerance. She got to her feet and tugged at her own bag as she waited for Bex to gather her things. Did she offer to hold her bag? Probably not. Bex would probably hate that. “Where were you thinking? Al’s?” Dani asked, looking down at her fingers. Black nailpolish immaculately laid out in a matte fashion against them. 

“How sweet of you,” Bex replied, rolling her eyes a bit. A feeling crept up her spine, like she was being watched, and she glanced around the room once before focusing back on Dani. “Yeah, yep, a tree branch. I went for a--” desperate bid for my life-- “hike through the woods and just wasn’t paying enough attention and caught my foot right on a root sticking out of the ground. Clumsy me,” she grinned, trying to hide the pain in her voice. “Luckily someone was with me--” my ex who was trying to kidnap me-- “so it all turned out fine.” Fine was the exact wrong word about how it had all turned out. Frank taking her had ruined everything. It had ruined her relationship with Mina, and it had ruined her home with Morgan and Deirdre, and it had ruined any chance she’d had at being happy. He hadn’t succeeded in taking her, but he’d done what his parents had wanted him to-- he’d taken everything else and left her with no choice but to leave. She swallowed again, feeling her heart beginning to seize up again. “Smoothie’s work better for me, too,” she agreed, smiling, “Al’s sounds perfect.” She stood up and grabbed her bag, stuffing her papers in, eager to get out of here and away from the feeling of being watched. “You’re driving,” she said as she brushed past Dani and hurried towards the door. This place was getting suffocating-- everywhere was just so suffocating.

Dani decided to take Bex’s explanation as the truth. She didn’t have a reason not to. She did however notice the way that her friend glanced around the study hall. Dani mirrored Bex and cast a few quick glances, but didn’t see anyone, or anything out of place. For the most part, everyone had their nose in whatever the hell it was they were studying. “Maybe you should stay out of the woods,” Dani offered her a lighthearted laugh and stretched her arms above her head. “But it’s good you didn’t get too wrecked.” The woods were dangerous, but something told Dani that she didn’t need to remind Bex of that. Once Bex got to her feet, Dani followed after her, not expecting the brunette to rush out the door. Something was off, but she couldn’t place it. Dani left the study hall with one last look over her shoulder. Nothing. She gave a concerned look to the back of Bex’s head as they walked out into the sunlight. “Truck is this way,” She pointed towards the opposite parking lot, not too far from where the study hall was. Dani made sure to stay a few inches or so behind Bex. Her movements were abrupt, careful, anxious. It was so different from the girl that had hung her legs into the abyss. Dani took a deep breath and shoved her own anxieties as far down as they would go. Once they got to her truck, Dani rounded the side to the passenger door and unlocked the vehicle from there. “The driver’s side is busted.” A lie, but Dani couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. She waited on the other side for Bex to slide over and unlock the door for her, making a show of how the keys wouldn’t go into the keyhole. 

Bex didn’t remember that from last time, but she didn’t really stop to question Dani. She didn’t mind having her close until she crawled into the truck-- with a little trouble thanks to her boot-- and sidled over, unlocking the driver’s side. She’d closed her own door, first, glancing out the window as she scooted back. Nell hadn’t just taught her how to feel magic, but after everything that happened with Frank, she taught her how to understand her instincts. And they were screaming at her to get out of this place. She looked back over as Dani crawled in. “No new stains, I see,” she said in as much of a light-hearted tone as she could. She grinned. “Is the radio working yet?” she fiddled with the dials as the truck sputtered to life, only giving a sigh of relief when they’d pulled from the parking lot and were on the road. No one could hurt them out here. She leaned back in her seat and let her head rest against the back, closing her eyes a moment. She was going to be fine. This was all fine. She pulled out her phone and fiddled with it, wondering if she should text Eddie. She looked over at Dani. “Thanks for uh...hanging out with me.”

Dani hopped into the cab. “Nah, it’s been awhile.” She had plenty of run-ins with different things, but none that had her creating new works of art with her wounds on the upholstery. It took her no time to pull out of the parking lot. She checked the rearview, as well as sideview mirrors. “It is, but we have to hit a certain part of town for it to actually be clear.” She glanced over at Bex, immediately noticing the way her features started to soften. Yeah, something was definitely not right. She held her tongue despite the questions she wanted to ask. It wasn’t a far drive to Al’s, at least. Soon they’d be tucked away in a booth, and then maybe she’d ask. Would Bex instead feel cornered? Would she feel cornered now? Dani was pulled out of her thoughts once Bex spoke up. “Oh, yeah. No problem.” The hunter didn’t correct Bex about how she had practically seeked her out. Instead, she reached over to the dial on the radio and began to fiddle with it. A staticy pop song filtered through the speakers and she looked over with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, this might be the best you’re going to get.” She continued to drive until she hit the turn that’d take her down the main street to Al’s. While they drove, she continued to look at all of her mirrors. Nobody seemed to be following them, but Dani still couldn’t shake Bex’s appearance from before they left the school.

The song jumped to life on the radio and Bex tried to let the sound of it relax her. She didn’t actually like the song, but it was better than the silence that let her remember how the forest had sounded, how the leaves sounded, crunching under her feet as she ran. Her body shivered in the seat and she shook it off, looking back over at Dani. “It’s fine,” she said, smiling, even as the hairs on her arms stood on end. No, it would be fine. It would be. There wasn’t anyone following her, it was just her own paranoid mind. She’d been thinking about it too much lately, she needed to just relax. Besides, Dani was capable. She could let herself relax here. They pulled up to Al’s and Bex turned to look back at Dani. “I am sorry,” she said suddenly, “for-- for not texting you back. Things have been...complicated, lately. But I swear it was nothing about you! Or on you. It’s uh-- more a me thing.” She figured Dani deserved the truth about at least one thing in her life. Her throat felt tight, but she felt an almost obligation to tell her. She hoped she understood. “But I’m working on it! And I...really appreciate you not, um, being mad or anything.” She felt the inside of the car growing smaller, suffocating her, just like the study hall had, and she reached for the door handle. “Shall we uh-- milksh-- smoothies! Head inside?”

Finally, Dani pulled into the parking lot. She glanced around before, checking her mirrors once more. When Bex apologized, she held a hand up and shook her head. “Don’t apologize. You obviously had your reason or whatever.” Dani didn’t go into how she thought Bex had gotten hurt, or how maybe she’d gotten sick of her. What would it matter if it were the latter? One less person to worry about outside the context of her job. Still, ever since having seen Milo’s end, the fear that everyone close to her would suddenly up and die was eating at the back of her brain. “But I appreciate it.” Dani smiled at Bex. She meant to reach out, to give her friend a reassuring pat on the shoulder, but the passenger side door was being ripped open by somebody she didn’t recognize. “What the-- Who the fuck!” Dani yelled, trying desperately to grab onto Bex’s arm as the man pulled her out of the cab. 

“Yeah, but I just want you to know I appre--” Bex had started, but in the next moment, her door was being thrown open and someone was ranking her out of the car. She’d been facing Dani, she had no idea who it was. A dread had filled her up and she let out a scream and whoever had been holding her was thrown backwards into the car a few spots behind them. They hit it with a crunch as Bex’s magic exploded from her and the windows of all the cars around cracked-- some shattered. She fell to the ground, palms scraping against asphalt as she scrambled to push herself back to her feet, into the car, towards Dani-- anywhere. Her mind was dragging her back into the forest with Frank and she couldn’t breath, and her hands grasped at leather of the seats and she tried to hold herself together so she didn’t explode even more. But then hands were on her again, and she had enough time to turn her head to see who it was and-- “Frank!” she screamed, kicking out at him, “Let GO! LET GO! FRANK!” she screamed and kicked and she saw his missing hand and felt his arms wrapping around her again and she screamed. “DANI!” And she didn’t even feel metal slipping between her ribs, as her body fought against the shock of what was happening. What was happening again.

Dani acted quickly. She didn’t care that it was bright out, or that they were in a parking lot, and that anybody could see them. What she cared about was Bex being dragged away. She slid through the cab out of the passenger side door. Using her own would be too risky, it’d take too much time. The windows of the car next to her truck exploded and Dani barely flinched. Any action to save herself was inaction for Bex. “Bex!” Dani yelled. She didn’t know who this man was, or what he wanted from Bex. What she did know was that he was not undead, which meant that she couldn’t be certain if he was human, or some other god awful creature. What mattered most was that he was hurting her friend. She could see the fear on Bex’s face and it fueled her fire. Bex seemed to recognize him. Frank. Who the fuck was Frank and why did he think he was allowed to touch Bex like this? Dani threw herself forward as soon as she saw the knife, but she was a second too late. She saw it plunge deep into Bex’s side. Dani let out an animalistic cry and reached for the hand that was around the knife and snapped it backwards. He only had one good one. From this angle and with everything happening, Dani was unsure where the knife had gone through. Pulling out could risk bleeding out quickly. If it stayed inside, then she had a fighting chance. One arm supporting Bex from falling too far to the ground, the other still on the man’s broken hand, Dani craned her head back and slammed her forehead into the man’s nose. Pain exploded in her own face, but hopefully it’d be enough to distract the man with the now broken hand. 

The commotion was already drawing the attention of those just trying to enjoy their day in the restaurant. Bex didn’t notice any of them, because her mind was focusing on staying here, in this moment. She stumbled back and the ground turned to leaves as she blinked. Leaves and mud and twigs and she should run. She needed to run. Except she couldn’t run. Someone was holding onto her. She cried out again, trying to shove them away. It was Frank, he was back for her, he had found her, she hadn’t gotten away in time. WIthout any control of her mind, her magic reached out and it wormed its way into Dani, and all the fear and the all anger and all the pain Bex had felt from that day rushed through it. She yanked her arm away, reeling backwards, falling to the ground again. She backed herself up until she hit the car. The pain in her side began to spread, but the only thing she saw was a forest and trees and Frank.

And something-- something wasn’t right. He was already missing a hand. He looked so angry. He hadn’t been this angry before. Bex’s gaze stuck on him. Something was wrong with him. She heard his bones snapping but he just kept going. He barreled into Dani and brought them both to the ground and started hitting her. “S-stop it,” Bex stuttered, “Stop it!” Louder, ears ringing. “STOP IT!” Windows blew out, car alarms went off. The pavement beneath Dani and Frank caved in and tossed them apart. She should’ve let Nell kill him. She should’ve let her kill him. Kill him. 

Dani’s heart was loud in her ears. This wasn’t Milo’s situation, but she saw Milo’s face. But Bex was awake, she was alive. For the most part. From what she could tell. Dani grunted as the man shifted his focus from Bex onto her. She used the skills she’d learned from her mother, from the Quinn’s, from watching Adam, from just about anyone who had a hand in training her. She shifted her feet slightly, avoiding the first knock from Frank, but then something happened. Something changed. She felt anger seep into her bones, cracking and reverberating around inside of her chest. She could feel it in her throat. Deep, terrible, hungry. She barely noticed Bex falling to the ground. All she saw was Frank, and how she wanted to wrap her hands around his throat until there was no life left. Before she could, however, she was being thrown to the ground. The man was on top of her, his only, slightly broken hand coming into contact with her already broken nose. Dani reached up with her own hands, thumbs coming to the base of his throat, starting to squeeze. He choked and spluttered, but he didn’t stop hitting. 

Dani could feel the blood running back past her ears, from her mouth and her nose. Blood dripped from his face, too. Carnage pooled around them and individuals stared on. She kept her hands tightly around his throat, envisioning the way that he might succumb to her grip. It was the only way she could make Bex safe. Before she could dig her fingers into his skin even deeper, he was being pulled off of her from the force of something beneath them. Dani continued to see red, it twisted her insides. She felt everything. Dani wanted to continue, she wanted to squeeze until the light left this man, the man who dared to hurt her friend. Somehow, she managed and turned to look at Bex. There was blood blooming at her wound and she looked dangerously pale. Fuck. Dani pushed past the anger, it felt like drinking poison. She hurried over to her friend and checked over the wound. From the angle, it didn’t seem to hit a major organ, but Bex was still losing a lot of blood. “We need to go,” She said coldly. 

Bex blinked and she was in the parking lot and the trees were gone and she wasn’t barefoot in the forest. She was in the parking lot. And Dani was on the ground and she was bleeding and Frank was on the ground near her and he was also bleeding. Her body felt cold, hot at the same time. She was trembling. Her side hurt. She pulled her hands away and found them stained red. It was draining down her side and onto the pavement and felt nauseous. There was something sticking out of her. She wrapped her hands around the handle and pulled it out and she screamed as a ragged edge tore through her skin. Oh no. Oh no. She shouldn’t have done that. She shouldn’t have done that. Mina had taught her about knives. She should’ve known. Of course his knife had been serrated, it made for better tearing, it made it harder for a wound to heal, to close. “D-Dani…” Bex stuttered, looking around bewildered. The girl was coming towards her now but something was different. She looked so angry. She looked ready to kill. Maybe Bex should just let her do it. Her eyes fell to Frank. He was unmoving on the ground. People were rushing towards them. A siren sounded in the distance. Bex squeezed the knife in her hand. It would be so easy. She could walk over there and finish what Nell started. No, she couldn’t. She couldn’t do that. She couldn’t do that.

Dani’s voice was chilling and Bex shivered again. She looked up at Dani with unseeing eyes as the world began to blot away. There was so much blood on her hands. She barely registered being lifted back into the truck. Her head lolled to the side. Wasn’t this all supposed to stop? This was supposed to stop. That’s why she’d gone home. If it didn’t stop, then what was the point? What was the point? Why had she suffered, why was she suffering? The engine roared to life and Bex sagged against the window. She was so tired. She wanted to sleep. She remembered how it felt after Kyle had mauled her. Knife in her side, just like claws on her chest. She scrambled to find some sense of preservation, like she had in the alley. She’d fought against the ebbing tide of blackness for Kyle. For Mina. For Morgan and Nell. She’d had something to fight for, then. Now, she had nothing. Even here in Dani’s car and with Kyle’s promise and Eddie’s hand, she had nothing. She closed her eyes.

Dani watched as Bex removed the knife and a silent scream bubbled in her throat. The anger she felt, it bloomed and bit at her, little pin pricks of what if’s scattered in her head. What if I killed him for doing this, what if I used the same knife he’d used on Bex, what if I-- She could see the blood more clearly now. Bex’s entire shirt was covered in it, so were her hands. Everything was red. An angry, sickly red. She felt her heart in her throat as she moved. The pain that blossomed in her nose, in her head-- all of it was forgotten. With Bex there, bleeding out on the ground, Dani knew she needed to work quickly. If she didn’t, her friend would die. The anger she felt still splintered and crackled across her skin. It took everything in Dani’s power not to turn around and stab Frank with the knife he’d used on Bex. She couldn’t do that. He was human. She’d have to let the authorities-- the human authorities deal with him. Walking away was painful, she soon realized. 

But still, Dani managed to get Bex into the truck. Robotic in her movements, she ran to the driver’s side door and threw herself in. The engine roared to life and Dani peeled out of the parking lot. Dani looked through her side view mirror to see Frank trying to get to his feet, but the onlookers pushed him down as the police swarmed in. It took everything in her power to not reverse the truck, to-- Dani noticed the silence and immediately looked over to Bex. Eyes closed, her chest barely rising and falling. The blood continued to blot her shirt and Dani’s seats. One hand on the steering wheel, the other pressing into Bex’s wound, Dani drove, ignoring all stop signs and lights. The roar of the engine was the only noise to her ears. “Bex!” Dani yelled. She looked between the road and her friend. “Bex, you have to wake up! Wake the fuck up.” Her hand was covered in Bex’s blood now. It was hard to tell what was her own, Bex’s, or Frank’s. It seemed like a lifetime ago that she’d been wheeled out of the hospital by Nell. Now, she was back, and with an injured friend in tow. It was something she never wanted to have happen, but now it was-- was it her fault? She hadn’t acted quick enough. She had let Bex get stabbed, and now… Dani fought the urge to scream as she threw open her door with one hand. She awkwardly maneuvered around the cab, her hand still against Bex’s wound to try and quell some of the blood loss. She wasn’t sure how well she was doing. Bex looked lifeless. “Come on,” She breathed, pulling her friend out of the cab. Bex sagged in her arms, but Dani used all of her strength to carry her friend inside, having to release the pressure she held on her side to do so. “Somebody help!” Dani screamed as she ran through the doors. Immediately, Bex was removed from her hold and placed on a gurney. Dani tried to follow, but was being pulled back by a nurse who insisted she needed to be checked for injuries too. “Don’t let her die!” Dani screamed after them. 

Someone was calling her name. Was it Mina? She hoped it was MIna. Bex didn’t move as someone pulled her from the car and cradled her in their arms and rushed into the building and Bex watched the world passing by above her. Clouds and sun turned into burning white light. Tiles. Her head lolled over and she was set on a bed. Faces appeared and Bex realized it wasn’t Mina. They started rolling her away and she turned to look back at who had carried her in. It wasn’t Mina. Dani. She looked so upset. She was yelling at the doctors, even as they struggled to pull her away, to look at her face. Her face was bleeding. Frank had done that. Anger roiled through her body again and she couldn’t stop it. She should’ve let Nell kill him. She should’ve let Nell kill him. She might bleed out now because she hadn’t let Nell kill him. 

Why was this all still happening? Wasn’t she supposed to be safe at home? Why had Frank come after her again? What was wrong with him? Her mother had said she was safe from him. She had lied. She had lied. Her mother was always so full of lies. The doctor’s pulled her onto another bed and looked down at her and said something to her. She didn’t hear them. All she could think about was Frank. What was wrong with him? Why was he doing this? What if he hurt someone else? He’d already hurt Dani. WHat if he hurt Mina? Or Nell? She tried to reach up to them, to tell them she needed to go, she needed to find them and warn them-- but her arms wouldn’t move. Someone was hushing her, telling her not to move. She groaned, she needed to move. “Mina…” she managed to squeak out, “I need to--” There was something cold in her arm. She looked down to try and see but it was too late. In the next moments, sleep overtook her and she fell back to the bed.

Bex woke up to the calming sound of a beeping meter next to her. There was someone in the room with her, a blurry figure hunched in a chair. “Mina?” Bex called, but she blinked, and the world came back into view and her side was bursting with pain despite the I.V. in her arm and-- it wasn’t Mina. It was Dani. Bex tried to hide her look of disappointment and looked back up at the ceiling. “Sorry…” she muttered. She should probably text Eddie, he’d want to know about something like this. She was trying to figure out how she’d get out of here before her parents were called. She didn’t want her mom to show up. No one else needed to see that.

The moment that Bex was rolled out of sight, Dani fell to the floor. Every bone in her body hurt. She could taste the blood in her mouth, and every time she tried to speak, she could feel her skin pulling and stretching against the dried iron. The nurses in the emergency room fussed over her, leading her to an examination room. It felt like hours. Cotton swabs, tweezers, butterfly bandages, and stitches. All to put her back together. All to make her presentable for the outside world. With every few minutes, Dani had asked for updates on Bex. Was she alive? Was she awake? How much blood had she lost? She had offered her own, but found out they were opposite blood types. Then again, she wasn’t too sure how that worked with things the way they were. The anger she felt in the parking lot floated like an ember in the center of her chest. She wanted to find out where Frank was, she wanted to drive the knife through his chest. In the back of her head, she knew that was wrong. He was human. Even the undead did not deserve harsh, demented deaths. They deserved to be relieved from their suffering. But Frank? He deserved to suffer. She wanted to watch the light leave his eyes. For some strange reason, the thought did not scare Dani. Instead, it simmered. 

Eventually, she was led back to Bex’s room after constant insistence. Who’d be able to prove they weren’t sisters? She’d been asked multiple questions about what happened and she had told them honestly. Somebody named Frank had decided to stab Bex. That was all she knew. She hated the idea of them asking Bex more questions, especially when she’d already been through so much, but Dani knew that it’d happen regardless of the details she’d be able to give. She waited in the chair for some time, every beep of the machine beside Bex’s bed loud and jarring, as if taunting Dani. You were too late. She’s gone. It’s your fault. Except, Bex woke up. She looked disappointed, but Dani pushed past the hurt that bubbled in her chest. Bex was alive. Dani didn’t give a fuck if she wasn’t the one who was supposed to be there as she woke. Dani rose from her seat, catching her reflection in an adjacent mirror. Bruises had already begun to form under her eyes and she had butterfly bandages peppered like freckles across the bridge of her nose. “Hey,” Dani said quietly, holding onto the side of Bex’s bed to keep steady. “Are you…” She looked at her friend. She was alive. Dani could cry! She wanted to reach out, to touch Bex’s hand, to hold it. She withheld. Her own bandaged hands, rough and wreaking of death didn’t deserve to ghost against somebody like hers. Bex was good. Innocent. Damaged, but who wasn’t in this fucked up town? Dani thought about how she had let this happen. How Bex had nearly died because of her. “I’m sorry.” She said, and it was quiet, barely above a whisper. She looked into her friend’s eyes. The anger burned hot, the tendrils of its flame licking at every muscle, every blood vessel. Just seeing Bex in the hospital bed made Dani want to leave, to find Frank. She steeled herself against the thought. “Is there… Is there anything I can do?” She asked. Fuck, she wanted to reach out, to show herself that Bex was okay, that she was real. That this wasn’t some new fucked up portal she’d fallen through. But that’d be selfish. Her own comfort was not what was important here. The fact that Bex was alive was what was.

Dani’s face was littered with bandages and butterfly tape and Bex was suddenly angry that she’d just gotten away with one little stab wound. Well, one big one, she supposed. And scraped palms, but that was about it. She held up her other hand to look at it, picking at the bandage with the other. Dani was apologizing and Bex didn’t know what to say. “Don’t apologize,” she mumbled. She was trying to remember what had happened, wondering if the bruises under Dani’s eyes were her fault, too. She could remember Al’s, and being in a car, and then being yanked out and dragged to the ground and-- “Frank,” she said, and her voice felt urgent, raw in her throat. She swallowed. “Where-- where is he? Did he get away?” Had the police shown up? She didn’t remember. All she could see was grass and mud and leaves and trees, curling over above her, blocking the sun, casting shadows of hands reaching to grab her, take her, steal her away. They’d won, hadn’t they? The trees. Bex pressed her palms to her eyes and tried to let the gauze on her wrists soak up the tears before they fell. “I’m sorry, you shouldn’t have been caught up in that, I--” she shook her head. “I’m sorry.” 

She didn’t know how to explain it. Not in way that didn’t make everything sound stupid and horrible. She wondered if Dani would ask. She didn’t want her to ask. She looked back over at the other girl and saw the bruises and cuts and bandages again and reached out as if to touch her face, letting her hand hover just inches from it. “I’m sorry you got hurt.” 

Dani could hear the ticking of the clock that was centered above the door. That, in combination with the steady beep of Bex’s monitors began to sound like a lullaby. She blinked past the exhaustion that had settled and reached up to tenderly wipe a blood clotted strand of hair away from her own face. They’d done a shoddy job of cleaning her up. Then again, she hadn’t really let them do more than bandage her up. She’d broken her nose enough times to set it herself, and the look on the doctor’s face had shown visible pain at the very act, but she didn’t care. She was fine. She wasn’t the one who’d been stabbed, she wasn’t the one who had lost all that blood. When Bex asked about Frank, she felt a pang of guilt. Dani had bargained with the idea of having stayed, of having watched life leave him for what he’d done, and though that anger grew hot in her stomach and felt like iron on her tongue, she knew that she shouldn’t feel that way. He was human. Or appeared human. The idea of pretending he wasn’t had also flitted across her mind, but Bex’s blood loss had been too hard to ignore. If Dani hadn’t gotten her out when she did, her friend would be dead. “I think they stopped him. I can’t be sure.” Her voice was low, barely audible over the steady rhythm of the hospital lullaby. 

Bex was crying and Dani wanted to reach out, to comfort, but she didn’t know how. The rouge on her bandages from her split knuckles had already begun to peek out. It’d only be a matter of time before her cuts were worn over from her self-healing. She looked down at the way her injuries bloomed beneath the ace bandages and shook her head. “I’m okay, I’m not that hurt.” She smiled and looked up at Bex’s outstretched hand. She should take it. She knew she should. Instead, she reached forward and settled it down from where it’d come. She patted it twice, and though her fingers itched to linger, to feel the way Bex’s pulse vibrated beneath her fingertips, she pulled her hand away. This was a weakness. Caring the way she did for Bex like a sister. The question at hand being Frank, and if he’d gotten away, if he’d find Bex again-- it was too much for Dani to push away. “Do you need anything? Do you want me to call someone for you?” She straightened up and looked back behind her by the door. If Lauren knew that she was here, there’d be hell to pay and she knew it. “I told them we were sisters. I gave them a fake name.” It’d been quick thinking, and really, she wasn’t sure why she’d done it. “Mostly so they’d let me in to see you.” She took a deep breath and it felt like her chest was going to cave in. She needed to find Frank, to make him pay for what he’d done. But with Bex laying there, her deep brown eyes wet with tears, Dani wasn’t sure if she could make herself leave. 

Dani only thought they’d stopped him. She couldn’t be sure. Bex closed her eyes and tried not to let the thought send her into another spiral. She was safe here. She remembered how angry she’d been .She remembered watching Dani pummel Frank. Bex ran her hands through her hair, wincing as a pain in her arm reminded her of the IV in it. She looked back at Dani and she couldn’t explain what she was feeling. She had no idea. She was feeling everything and nothing. She wanted to scream again, she felt like she was going to explode. Dani didn’t take her hand, because Dani wasn’t Mina and Dani wasn’t Morgan and Dani wasn’t Nell. She curled her hands into fists and tried not to protest against the drowsiness too much. “No, no, I’m fine,” she muttered, laying her head back on the pillow and staring up at the ceiling. But when Dani mentioned calling someone, Bex’s blood turned to ice. They would have called her, wouldn’t they? It was on her emergency forms. Bex sat up straight and started pulling at the cords on her. “I need to go,” she said hurriedly. The soft beeping turned to a loud drone as she ripped off the electric patches on her chest. If her mother got here before she left, if her mother knew, if her mother saw, it would all be so much worse.

A nurse came bursting in only to see the scene, rushing to the bedside, pushing Bex back down. Bex winced and cried out, the pain in her side blossoming all over her body. “Relax! I need you to calm down!” the nurse turned to look at Dani sharply. “What happened? What’s going on?” Her voice hushed slightly as she returned her attention to Bex, struggling against her uselessly. “It’s okay, your mother is on her way, she’s almost here.” Bex froze, dread drawing on her face. “No, no, no. No, she can’t see-- no. I have to go, I have to--” But it was too late. It was always too late. Her mother always got there first. Her mother always found her first.

The pain and fear was recognizable on Bex’s face. Dani hated that it was there. She wanted to ease it, but she wasn’t sure how. She flexed her fingers. The air felt heavy, it felt like she was drowning in it. Her chest felt heavy. There had been fear, but then there was panic. Bex was suddenly thrashing in her bed, pulling at the IVs in her hands. It was the only time that Dani reached forward, trying to still her hands. “Bex--” Dani said, her voice coming out softer than intended. But it wasn’t any use. Bex was lost to the panic and she was spiraling. Dani didn’t know what to do. What had she done? Had she said something wrong? 

Before she could reason with Bex, a nurse was coming through the doors. Dani was pushed to the side as the woman began to smooth her hands over the cords and IV that were attached to Bex. The woman snarled at her and Dani steeled herself. So she had done something wrong. Anger boiled inside of her, it coated her throat. She wanted to yell back at the nurse, to tell her that she’d only been trying to help. Bex was still panicking and she was trying her best to get out of the bed. Dani watched with a pained expression on her features as Bex begged to leave. Something about not being able to be seen? By her mother? Dani’s eyes widened slightly, and just as Dani was about to explain that she could take care of Bex, she was being ushered out of the room, the feeling of the nurse’s fingers digging into her bruised arms and back. “Hey--” Dani protested, trying to grab the door, “Bex-- BEX!” Dani felt another hand on her wrist as she was being pulled away from the room. “Bex-- Hey! Fuck off, stop it!” She cried out at the feeling of the man’s pressure on her wrist. He wore a hospital uniform, something about security. She was being escorted out. Why? Why? Dani could easily break this man’s hand, she could give him the same broken nose, it’d match her own, but he was human, she couldn’t do that. He was just doing his job. “Bex!” Dani yelled again as she lost view of her friend’s room. Something was wrong-- far more fucked up than she had originally thought. 

#chatzy #wickedswriting #chatzy: dani #domestic abuse tw #medical blood tw #dani #frank

[kimburgess-ruzek]

You Have No Idea.

chapter one.

summary: Something Kim does changes her future in Intelligence forever. In ways no one can imagine. But when she is caught on the wrong side of crime, will her previous reputation and relationship with the police help her? Or are her actions so damaging that nothing or no one can save her?

t/w: mentions of sexual assault

read on ao3.

one.

*months before the prologue.*

“What do we got?”

Adam lifted the yellow tape to allow Voight to the scene. It was super early. 5:29 am. And the constant flashing lights and sirens made Adam too tired to joke around. He had to get up early to meet Rojas on the scene and take statements. He was wearing sunglasses and his hair wasn’t even done.

“Group of witnesses claim to have seen a woman kidnapped. They were outside of the bar and saw the woman and a man arguing in the alley, they thought it was nothing since it just verbal. Then a van drives by and the man pulls the girl inside and they take off.” Adam caught Voight up while they walked to where the rest of the team was.

“Did they catch a look at the plate?” Voight asked.

“No. The car was unmarked.” Kevin answered.

“The group wasn’t able to identify much of either the woman or the man. It was too dark. But they did say they were dressed for the club. The woman had on a dress. So my guess is camera footage of the club might have their faces. Jay is securing security footage from both inside and outside.” Rojas explained.

“Okay. Get back to the district and watch every second of the footage. I want to see if they were inside that club and if we can get facial rec.”

“We’re taking this Sarge? The witnesses were drunk themselves. They might not be credible. How do you know we’re just wasting time?” Hailey asked. There didn’t seem to be anything worth dragging Intelligence into. They probably could’ve handed this off to some other unit.

“We’re taking this case because I said so. This club has been on the radar for PD a while now. So go watch that footage. While you’re at it, grab the manager. Maybe he has some talking to do.”

“Copy, Sarge.” Adam walked back to his truck and sat inside there, trying to keep his eyes open. They had nonstop cases, and he hadn’t gotten much sleep in the last few weeks. The whole team hasn’t. With one member down, they had to do overtime most nights in order to be one step ahead of the bad guys.

Before he could drive off the scene, his passenger side door opened and Kevin sat down and buckled himself in without permission.

“Hey man, mind giving me a ride to the office? I rode with Jay and he’s still getting footage.”

“Nah, you got it.” Adam took off, heading back to the district. He didn’t talk much on the ride there. He just focused on not letting his eyelids close.

Kevin tried to ease the silence, “So, have you heard from her?”

Adam sighed and rubbed his forehead. “No, I haven’t. I’ve called her everyday. I’ve even dropped by her place a couple of times. She doesn’t want to be heard. Or seen.”

Kevin looked at Adam with sympathy. “Give it time. She took it hard.”

Adam answered as they pulled up to the parking lot.

“Yeah, I just don’t feel okay with it. Something doesn’t seem right.”

...

buzz, buzz. buzz, buzz.

It took everything in Kim to open her eyes. She rarely gets any sleep anymore; she is either pulling all-nighters or she is waking up sporadically at odd hours of the night. Her new lifestyle, as she would call it, isn’t the most healthy. She doesn’t have a sleep schedule, doesn’t have anything but beer in her fridge, and always wakes up hungover. But she doesn’t really care. She’ll do anything to keep going through life at this point. She takes every opportunity to rest her eyes, and she waits until the last seconds to rise out of her slumber. The light was already shining through her half closed curtains, and it took a few seconds for eyes to adjust. She yawned and stretched her arms before reaching for phone, reading the new message that she just got. However, before she could read it, she had a missed call notification. Kim sighed, she could probably guess who it was from. Nevertheless, she opened her phone and played the missed message.

*one voicemail from Adam Ruzek*

“Hey Kim. Just checking up on you. I haven’t heard from you in a while and I know you’re probably upset over everything that happened. I know I am. I miss being able to see my friend everyday at the office. Um, anyways, I just want to make sure you’re doing well. The whole team wants to make sure. Kevin won’t stop bothering me about making sure you’re doing good. I’ve tried visiting, but you must not have been home. Maybe we can meet for coffee or something. I have to go, but please. Just call me. Reach out. And know that I’m already here for you.”

Adam has called Kim everyday for two months now, ever since Kim left intelligence. And everyday, Kim would either sleep through it or she would ignore it. And everyday, Adam would leave a voicemail. Sometimes short, sometimes long. Always asking if she is okay and if she can call him back. Kim couldn’t help but laugh at how persistent Adam is. He will probably never stop calling he’s so stubborn. He’s probably just doing it out of spite now. Part of Kim wanted to pick up the phone one day and tell him to leave her alone and stop calling. To forget about her because she is not coming back. Part of her wanted to answer the call and just tell him the truth. But she knew that she couldn’t do either, because it would distract her from her new life.

...

Kim remembered the day like it was yesterday. The day that changed her life forever.

Two months ago.

The bastards that raped her sister, Nicole, were fully released. Kim dreaded that day, because she knew that she had to inform Nicole of the news. Nicole was healing to the best of her abilities. She felt okay living on her own, but every once in a while she would call Kim, scared and crying. When she heard of the news, Nicole was shocked and felt uneasy. She said that she felt unsafe and asked if Kim could stay the night with her. Kim obviously said yes, but she feared that Nicole would start to retreat to her previous ways.

Within a week of the release of the two men, two women were found in the basement of the train station with obvious signs of rape and signs of drugs in their system similar to what Nicole experienced. After hearing the news of the two women, Kim’s fear turned out to be a reality. Nicole would not leave her house, and she begged Kim to stay at her apartment during the night. Kim often times had to stay late to work on the case, so she would leave Nicole on speaker phone, being there for support and calming her down when her anxiety picked up.

A week later, two more women were found in the train station. It was enough for Intelligence to be looped in. All of the women were drugged with ketamine and raped. They couldn’t remember anything, other than they were invited to an after party after being out at bars.

Kim immediately saw similarities in this case with Nicole’s. She wanted to go a storm the two men’s apartment, but the team shot her down.

“We have no other leads,” Jay tried to reason. “There’s no evidence that it’s the two men, and there’s not enough probably cause for a warrant.”

“Are you kidding me? Of course there’s enough evidence. This is the same exact scenario we saw four years ago. The exact same. You can’t tell me this isn’t enough probably cause.” Kim replied.

“Kim, I get it, okay. I do. But we have no dna evidence, nothing useful from the women. A judge won’t sign off on a warrant. And who’s to say these aren’t just other men?” Hailey jumped in. Even though she wasn’t there when the first case went down, Hailey had heard about it when she arrived. She heard Kim’s concern about the release of the two men about a year ago. She felt for Kim, she really did; but she also understood Jay and knew it wouldn’t be enough for a warrant.

Kim let out a sigh, shaking her head. She was about to respond when Adam jumped in, trying to diffuse the situation.

“Let’s just try to find some evidence. Let’s pull pod footage and see who dropped off those two women.”

It was obvious Kim herself wasn’t handling the news well, either, and the team could tell. She couldn’t shake the feeling of Nicole missing. She couldn’t shake the image of Nicole helpless on a bench at the station. So helpless, no one even looking her way. And she can’t can’t shake the fact that Nicole was doing so good, actually taking a step forward before those two bastards were released. Now, all Kim could do was watch Nicole retreat to her previous ways. She tried being there for Nicole, but Nicole was shutting her out again.

If Kim couldn’t be there for Nicole physically, she was going to do everything in her power to make Nicole feel safe again. She was the first one at work and the last to leave. She just threw herself on the case, which meant getting little sleep or lunch breaks. Even without knowing for sure it was the same two men, Kim had a gut feeling that it was, and it made her sick to her stomach that they got off so easily. Kim asked to run point on the field, but because this case was so close to her, Voight said no without hesitation.

“Kim, I get it. You’re close to this. But I can’t have you going off the books like you did last time.”

“Sarge, please. I won’t. I—“ Kim tried but was shot down by Voight again, this time more assertive.

“No. I’ve made my decision. No further questions. Kim you will run the calls in the office and you are not to go on the field. Got it? Cause if not you can just go home.” Voight stared down Kim. He wanted to make a point to not only her but also the whole team that he is in charge.

The bullpen was silent, and there was so much tension in the room no one dared to even breathe. Kim could feel all eyes on her, waiting for her to make a move.

“Yes sir,” was all Kim could get out before clearing her throat and shifting her eyes to her desk, almost in embarrassment. Adam swallowed hard, he felt so bad for Kim.

“Good. So what do we got?” Voight slid his hands in his pockets and shrugged his shoulders, getting back to business.

“We tried searching for pod footage of the train station, but couldn’t find anyone dropping the women off. Instead, we pulled video footage from the club.” Rojas began typing in her computer while the other gathered around her. Kim still sat at her desk. She felt like she couldn’t move. She was still stunned at what Voight did. And right in front of everyone too. Adam went to see the footage but kept a close eye on Kim.

“Here, you see the two victims, getting into a car. But you only see a portion of the faces of the two men.” Kevin explained.

“So not enough for facial rec.” Jay stated.

“No, but if you pause the video right here.” Kevin stopped the clip and zoomed in on one of the men’s arm, “You can see a scar on the shoulder. I ran all credit card transactions and the same two men that got Kim’s sister were there that night.”

“How does the scar link the same two men to both crimes?” Hailey asked out loud.

“Kim stabbed one of the guys in the shoulder as self defense.” Adam answered quickly, being sure not to share too much information in case Kim was sensitive to it. Everyone looked to Kim, seeing if she had a reaction. She instead was still staring at her desk. Jay began to put the pieces together.

“Do you think that’s enough probable evidence?”

“It can be.” Voight answered, starting to walk away from the desk. “Hailey, Jay, get together a paper lineup. Go see if the women can point out the suspects. Good job Rojas and Atwater. Write up a warrant for the judge.”

“Thank you sir.”

“Got it.”

Everyone stirred to action. Hailey printed out a sheet of random men, with the two suspects on there to see if the women can identify them. Jay put on his jacket and they headed downstairs to the hospital. The sudden noise and movement stirred Kim from her thoughts. She quietly rose from her desk and went to the locker room to splash water in her face. To her dismay, Adam saw Kim her up and he followed her. He wanted to make sure she was okay.

“Hey, Kim. You doing alright? Voight went down on you pretty hard.” Adam followed her into the locker room and closed the door, for privacy. She was drying off her face with a towel, and she turned to walk back out, not meeting his gaze.

“I’m good, Adam. I just want to catch these bastards.” Kim tried to move past him but he stepped in front of her, not letting her out the door.

“No, really. How are you doing? With everything?”

Kim sighed. She didn’t want to express what she was truly feeling, and she especially didn’t want to in front of Adam. Even though they had been through a lot together, this felt different. This not only affected her, but it also affected her sister and her niece. Her family. However, she knew that he wasn’t going to let her leave without doing so, so she opened up a little.

“I feel like I’m helpless. I can’t do anything up here sitting at a desk, that won’t help Nicole. That won’t help those two women. God, I just need to be out there. I need to close this case.” Kim ran her hands through her hair and then put her head in her hands, almost in self defeat.

adam places his hands on her arms, rubbing them up and down to try to sooth her. He gently consoled her, “Hey. Hey. It’s okay. You are helping by being up here. A lot. You have to be strong. For Nicole. And when we get these perps, when we do, you’ll be able to tell her you helped put those men away. We will get these perps. I will make sure of it. For you. I’m always here for you, Kim.”

Kim calmed down a little. She started to give in to her tiredness and fell into a hug when her mind ran back to the case, and she remembered that she had work to do.

“Yeah, thanks.” She pulled away and slid past him to head back to her desk to bury herself with paperwork.

Unfortunately, the two women weren’t able to identify the two men. They were too drugged to remember much of anything. However, the judge did sign off on a house warrant, saying there’s enough probably cause without the women identifying the suspects. The suspects being the same two men that assaulted Nicole and attempted rape on Kim and Erin. This information made Kim sick to her stomach. She knew that they should have been charged with more and sentenced to more time behind bars. Her gut feeling was proving to be true. She knew it had to be the guys. Fortunately, because of this, and with the previous evidence, Intelligence didn’t have to do any undercover operation. Kim was at least pleased with this, because she certainly couldn’t have gone under again, and she didn’t want anyone else going through what she and Erin did years past.

“We’re fifteen minutes out.”

“Copy. No one moves in until I say.”

“Copy that, Sarge.”

It was just past 11:00 pm, so the team was going to the nightclub that their phone pinged to about 15 minutes ago.

“Just rolled in. Both of their cars are here.”

“Twelve minutes out.”

Suddenly, a notification popped up on Kim’s computer screen. This changed everything. Kim clenched a fist, tensing up at the thought of the two men taking advantage of another pair of women. In the very same room that they tried to take advantage of her. In the very same room where Nicole was raped. She made a split second decision, and before she could talk herself out of it, she grabbed her jacket and her car keys. She headed for the back exit in order to avoid running past Trudy.

She didn’t know what she was doing. She didn’t know what she was going to do. She just knew that she had to see this case through.

...

Kim sighed. Adam. Never fails. She rubbed her eyes to try to get herself to forget about him, and she looked at her other missed massages.

*one text message from Ryan*

Babe. The cave. One hour. And don’t forget the beer.

Kim quickly look at the time.

11:43 am. Shit.

She only had twenty minutes until she would be late. And she could never be too late. Not with Ryan. She sprang out of bed and ran to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

#chicago pd #chicago p.d. #chicago pd fanfiction #chicago pd fanfic #chicago pd fic #cpd fic #burzek fic #kim burgess fic #burgess fic #kim burgess #adam ruzek #kevin atwater #hank voight #jay halstead #hailey upton #you have no idea fic

[interstellix]

full hearts ↳ lee minho (lee know)

genre: angst, fluff

summary: no matter how it’s played, it’s always the same ending - unless a new one is unlocked

word count: 2235

requested: “i would like to request an au with minho please and ummmm well :O IT’S CUTE”

warnings: mentions of blood

a/n: LMFAOO ALLY LOML I’M SO SORRY IDK WHAT THE HELL WENT WRONG HERE I- listen consider this a free coupon for a free request with no expiration date bc this shit went straight to hell LOL but ye ily mwah @walkingonwave​ also why tf did it get so long fjdfdhjdk

you hate it when someone plays your video game. not one that you own, but one that you’re in.

you hate it because, no matter how often it's played and how often you have to experience the same story over and over again, you never get used to the terror and pain lacing it.

there’s more to it than the eye meets, what the screen shows and what the player is served; to you, it’s simply too much.

“I swear, this game ruined my life,” minho sighs before showing you a smug smirk, “good thing I have one more.”

you shoot him a glare but still glance at the digital wristband he wears which, much to your relief, shows a glowing red heart next to two black ones. indeed, one more life.

“how can you even be joking in this kind of situation?” you ask between heavy breaths and look him up and down. “you’re bleeding from your arm, you just got shot in your leg and there are probably two, three broken ribs as well.”

minho snorts, “can you blame me? the player sucks.”

you can’t argue against that. the player does suck for sure, constantly getting you and the rest of your team in trouble, making you die left and right, using potions and other items like they’re lollipops handed out to children; honestly, you’re surprised they have even made it this far into the game - the final stage and battle. that said,

“yeah but you can still control what’s going on behind the scenes. maybe, maybe you wouldn’t be in the miserable state y-”

you’re cut short by the high-pitched, piping noise you’ve by now come to dread, not fancying the explosion it’s shortly after to be accompanied by; just as it comes, minho wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you up from the shattered pavement you had fallen limp on.

“as if you’re in place to call me miserable,” he sighs and runs away from the spot all while still carrying both his equipment and you. “look at yourself, I’m impressed you even have enough energy to complain so much.”

you remain silent, aware that you can’t deny it. the adrenaline rushing through your body is really the only thing keeping you awake despite you being in a fairly worse state than you had claimed minho to be in.

said one doesn’t slow down but occasionally steals glances at you and upon noting the exhaust slowly but surely taking over your features, he calls out, worry clear in his voice, “god damn it, y/n! keep your eyes open, you still have a full life left, right?”

though not all too pleased by it, minho takes the low hum escaping you as a valid answer and keeps running to the first possible shelter found. you eventually find yourself in a two story building, not in a particularly perfect state with the catastrophe of a final battle going on in the city but enough for shelter.

“minho?” hearing the energy gradually leaving your voice, minho bites his lip to stay relaxed and instead hums, waiting for you to go on. “how can you stay so calm?”

as he enters a bedroom and carefully places you down in the rightful bed inside, he answers simply, “if I show you I’m scared, you’ll start panicking even more, right?” slowly, he removes the heavy equipment from your body, showing you a small smile while wiping a wound on your cheekbone clean from blood. “I don’t really fancy that idea.”

the playful look in his face loosens into a soft one, lips curled up in a small smile and eyes warm, “make sure you get some rest, yeah?”

as soon as you hear this, your eyes widen and fear quickly fills you. tightly grabbing onto the hand now cupping your cheek, you question in a shake breath, “where are you going?”

“I have to find the rest of the team, it’s been a while since we were separated and I still can’t get in touch with them-”

a sharp pain settles itself in your abdomen when you hastily sit up in the bed but at that moment, you can’t seem to care any less about it and hold onto his shoulder instead. “w-wait, you’re just gonna leave me here?!”

minho lightly pushes your hand away and answers with clear confusion, “no, but we can’t just ditch the re-”

the conversation is cut short when the nth explosion erupts in the outside world, followed by a whole chain of more and you look out through the window, the city might as well be considered the hell on earth by now; the sight of dark smoke, fire and more and more buildings getting destroyed only adds to the lump of fear and anxiety in you. you look back at minho and with pleading, glossy eyes, you just barely manage say through your irregular breathing increasing at a ridiculously high pace,

“min, p-please, don’t leave me alone.”

he furrows his eyebrows, not understanding just how desperate you are for him to not find the rest of your friends, to the point where it almost sounds selfish. “what’s wrong with you? we have to find the guys to finish the ga-”

right then, just as he catches a sole tear escaping your eye, realization seems to sink down on him, features once again softening. it’s nothing about selfishness at all, nothing about wanting to ‘ditch’ the rest of your friends. it’s simply the fear and pain of losing the person most dear to you - him.

“y/n...” minho’s hand returns to your cheek, this time to tenderly wipe the corner of your eye dry and as he speaks, his voice is almost comforting even during the definition of war currently going on, “we’ve played this game so, so many times, baby. you already know I’m always right with you.”

eyes shutting close, you lean into the touch of his hand and whisper, “you know that’s a lie, minho; I hate this game so much, we play everything together with the other guys, beat the final stage every, damn, time but we never get a happy ending. that shit just doesn’t exist in this game and I can’t handle it anymore.”

just as your vent of panic comes to an end, your wristband suddenly starts beeping, two quick, disturbing tunes. even more confused, minho looks down at its screen only for his jaw to drop; out of your three hearts, only a half of the last one is still shining and instead of the bright red, it’s a purple.

with a mix of anger and his own panic, minho groans while scanning your body for any possible causes of it, “when the fuck did you get poisoned?!” before going on, he finally finds a dark patch on your upper arm, staining it with the same shade of purple as shown on the screen. “why did you never tell me?”

despite the sobbing you’ve broken out in in the middle of the chaos, you choke out, “wouldn’t matter, player drained it all.”

minho’s jaw clenches and while he himself stays quiet, his mind is screaming, trying to figure out how to solve the situation. reaching out to the sheets under you, he pulls off a strip and hurries to wrap it around your arm in hopes of the poison to not spread as fast anymore. “listen well, alright?” he begins as he ties a tight knot. “don’t move or you’ll only lose even more health points; I don’t care if there’s never a happy ending, I won’t have you dying on me before we’re even done here.”

“but-”

“I can’t have you getting scared either. I won’t be able to focus on the game if I know you’re scared,” minho interrupts. he cups your face, solid eyes locking with your own, words gentle as they’re uttered,

“look at me, y/n. don’t think of anything else, just look at me.”

though staying quiet, you do as told. you do as told, relishing in the warmth radiating from his hands, letting yourself relax at the sight of your boyfriend so close up even though he looks like mess on two legs. you do as told, only for one tear after another to build up in your eyes.

minho leans his forehead against yours. when he whispers, you notice that you’re not the only scared one here, the shakiness in it revealing more than enough. all that said, he still manages to say every word you both need to hear and trust.

“just a little more... I don’t care about a happy story, if the game’s going to end, I want it to end with you next to me so hang on just a little more.”

whether it’s the pain, exhaust from the poison or you simply finding a sense of calm for the first time in a good while, you don’t know but it nevertheless leads you to slowly give into unconsciousness.

the last thing you just barely manage catching is a feather-light kiss to your forehead and a tenderly spoken assurance,

“I’ll be back before you know it. I promise.”

who knows how long it’s been? probably no one, but long enough for the screen of your wristband to meet you with three now full, red hearts as soon as you wake up.

you stare at your hands curled up right in front of your face and even though your vision isn’t clear enough after sleeping, you can still make out how they’re free from bruises, wounds and dusts. furthermore, it’s quiet. uncomfortably quiet, purely because you’re not used to a sound clean from explosions and other rumbling noises. it confuses you for a second and you start wondering if there’s been a restart. however, realizing that you’re still in the same, unknown bedroom as before and remembering that you have yet to go through the ending of the game, you know it’s still not over.

barely daring to look away from your hands even the slightest bit, you think for yourself, “if it’s not over, what’s going o-”

“finally up, sleeping beauty?”

a sharp gasp emits from you as you hear this and within moments, you’re sitting back up in the bed. by the edge of it, he sits; the window invites the morning sun you haven’t seen in what feels like a lifetime, its light illuminating his face in gentle shade of orange; a smile graces his lips and even under strands of hair, the gleam in his eyes is clear, bright upon finally seeing your own open.

four seconds. that’s what it takes for you to process that, as unfamiliar as this scene is after playing the game so many times, it actually is minho sitting right next to you, in person, pure flesh and blood. four seconds is what it takes until you launch yourself at him, arms tightly wrapping around his neck, face digging into the crook of it.

you take a deep breath, inhaling the scent you’ve grown fond of after spending so much time with minho. when you don’t say anything, he asks, “don’t wanna know what happened?”

you shake your head. “I don’t care.”

an airy chuckle escapes minho. his arms wrap around your waist and hold you closer to him and while starting to explain anyway, he unconsciously starts swinging your bodies from side to side. “believe it or not, that stupid player unlocked the secret ending.”

though confused, you don’t bother moving the slightest bit while humming in confusion. he doesn’t either and instead continues, “turns out if you beat the game in critical mode and gather all trophies, you unlock the secret ending.”

“and... what exactly happens in the secret ending?”

“in the secret ending...” minho murmurs, “the whole team survives.” as if on cue, loud yelling and laughters can suddenly be heard outside the bedroom. you’re barely aware of it though as he pulls away, just enough to get a look of your face. “the city can rebuild again...” he momentarily glances to the side where the window shows an unusually peaceful view. you follow his gaze, though only until his index finger and thumb takes a hold of your chin, turning you back to face him. “and you and me...”

with the current being through and through unknown to you, you find yourself growing more nervous than ever. when his thumb just barely grazes your bottom lip, your breath hitches and hands drop down to his shoulders, tightly grabbing onto them.

the time minho spends on leaning closer feels painfully long and yet, you’re barely aware of exactly when the barely existent gap eventually is shut. his lips are soft against your own, slowly moving against them. the feeling of it alters between the one of featherlight, pure pecks and long, passionate kisses and you can swear it’ll drive you insane right there and then.

you don’t though. instead, you can only melt under the touch, the loving hold around you leaving you in a serenity in the finest sense of the word.

when you eventually part, minho’s hand travels upwards to tuck stray hair behind your ear as he looks at you with a smile bigger than you’ve ever seen on him,

“stay together.”

maybe, just maybe, this game isn’t so bad after all.

#stray kids #stray kids imagine #stray kids imagines #lee know #lee minho #bang chan #seo changbin #hwang hyunjin #han #han jisung #lee felix #kim seungmin #i.n #yang jeongin #angst #fluff

[winetae]

⇾ what you did last summer (m).

⇁ female reader x yoongi

⇁ smut, trophy wife!au

⇁ slowburn, dom!yoongi, age difference, consensual non-monogamy, power imbalance, semi-public sex, objectification, face-fucking, derogatory language and possessive behavior during sex, creampie, cum marking, unsafe sex, everyone is kind of slutty, not as wildt as warnings may imply 

⇁ unnecessarily long for a pwp. 33.8k. phew.

. . .

Yoongi was fine with a lot of things—you maxing out his credit cards to buy ridiculously expensive items of clothing that you never wore more than once, you taking out his newest ride for a spin without permission, you spending an extra thirty minutes on your hair and makeup when he was running late for a dinner function. 

What he was not okay with, however, was you sharing your pussy with barely-out-of-college boys who were incapable of going five seconds without creaming their pants.

No, that was where he drew the line.

↳ alternatively titled; How to Get Dick - an autobiography written by (you) 

author’s note | while this fic does contain a semblance of plot, the focus is more on characterization which i understand can make for a boring read. also note that i have done (0) research and despite having owned a pool, still to this day do not know how to clean one. 

written for 1 of my closest friends @tayegi as the most belated bday gift to have ever been gifted. ily :( ty for having passionate naruto-related discussions w/ me at 6am. u r the real deal ! 

(!) pls read the warnings. uncomfortable subject matter if delved in too deeply. tbh i didn’t know how to tag. also yoongi is older in this fic - an age gap is there and implied although none of the characters’ ages are specified. 

song inspo: needy - ariana grande. that’s all! enjoy! hopefully! /cries

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{THURSDAY. 10:23 am.}

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“Hi, um, I’m Jungkook.”

The man shifted his weight from foot to foot, feeling all sorts of self-conscious.

In stark contrast to his casual appearance, you looked neatly put together, not a strand of hair out of place. His well worn jeans and simple white tee looked terribly shabby in comparison to the tailored cream colored dress that hugged your figure. Jungkook didn’t need to check the original price tag or the label stitched onto the fabric to know that your outfit was Expensive (with a capital E for emphasis).

Doubt made his stomach turn. Had there been a dress code stated somewhere in the job description? Given Jungkook’s disposition, it didn’t seem very likely that he had overlooked such a crucial detail. He was the type to obsess over the smallest details, always double-checking everything before giving the go ahead.

Yet despite all of the precautions he was certain he had taken, Jungkook was unable to shake off the feeling of being disgustingly underdressed.

Worry bubbled in the pit of his stomach. His palms began to sweat as his gaze flitted back and forth between the pale pink freshwater pearls hanging off your neck and the clothes he had haphazardly thrown on this morning.

Well at least they were ironed, he mused. It was but a small consolation—the denim was faded from one wash too many and the frayed holes near his kneecaps made his jeans look tattered. Had he known the neighborhood would be this posh, he would have chosen his outfit with greater care. Right now he regretted not putting in more effort, if only to blend in with his surroundings. As he was now, he looked distinctly out of place. Almost as ridiculous as Samsung’s CEO taking a leisurely stroll through the downtown dollar store.

Jungkook half-expected you to take one glance at him, upturn your nose and slam the polished oak door in his face. In his panicked state, a number of embarrassing scenarios reeled through his mind, each one filling him with nauseating dread.

It was your expectant expression that snapped him out of his daze. He slowly blinked back into focus, realizing he had paused for a few seconds too long, and he cleared his throat.

A smile stretched across his face, not quite of the genuine kind. He squared his shoulders for good measure, doing his best to conceal the stress shaking up his insides.

“My name is Jeon Jungkook. I spoke to Mr. Min on the phone yesterday. I was expected to arrive at ten thirty?” His voice rose a little at the end, uncertain. It hadn’t been meant to be phrased as a question but his nerves made his voice quiver.

“Ah, yes, of course. And right on time, too.” Jungkook had made sure of it; he despised running late. “Nice to meet you, I’m ______,” you greeted, voice as smooth as velvet.

He tried not to openly stare because wow. Your blinding smile looked straight out of a Colgate advertisement, a tad too white to be completely natural.

Once again, you had him feeling self-conscious and all too aware of his own, less than perfect appearance. Whether it was the anxiety or the scorching heat beating down his back—or an unpleasant mix of both—a film of perspiration formed over his skin, leaving him sticky and uncomfortable.

Jungkook discreetly wiped off his palms against his denim clad thighs before taking your outstretched hand in his.

Despite your small size, your grip was surprisingly firm. If you noticed how abnormally clammy his hand was, you refrained from commentary. Instead, you held the door open a bit wider and ushered him inside the imposing abode.

“You can follow me. I’ll show you around to the back.”

He gave a little jerky nod and let you take the lead. For a moment, all he could hear was the nervous beat of his heart and the steady click-clack of your heels against the immaculate white floor tiles.

Jungkook blushed, quickly turning his head the moment he caught himself staring at your swaying hips. He wet his lips, his eyes darting around for any kind of distraction.

Inwardly, he scolded himself as he pinched the bit of flesh between his thumb and index finger.

Workplace crushes were never a good idea. Wasn’t it, like, written down in the code of conduct or something? It didn’t even have to be a rule. It was just common sense.

And Jungkook had no plans to fuck this job up. Summer jobs that paid this kind of money were scarce and hard to find. For someone like him who needed the money desperately, this job was a godsend, one that he would never dare pass up.

From the moment he had set foot onto Mr. Min’s property, Jungkook had realized that this wouldn’t be anything like his other part-time jobs that had consisted of repainting his neighbor’s fence and watering Mrs. Anderson’s flowers whenever she left town to visit her son. But this? This wouldn’t be just another pool cleaning job, that was for sure.

For one, the mansion, like every house in the vicinity, reeked of money. In his eyes, they all seemed to be competing against each other, with ridiculous, Disneyland-esque shaped hedges and wide, winding driveways capable of fitting several imported cars at a time. On the drive over, Jungkook had even spotted a marble fountain planted in the middle of someone’s front yard, clear water spouting out of a cupid’s arrow. He half expected peacocks and other exotic animals to parade across their lawns like some kind of zoo.

He could only assume that most of these ostentatious properties were owned by business tycoons or AAA-list celebrities. He cast a glance around as he tried to guess which of the two categories his employer belonged to.

To his dismay, there was nothing that particularly stood out to him. In all honesty it was…a little underwhelming. Jungkook had been expecting something jaw dropping in its obnoxiousness but he could spot no cupid fountains or gigantic aquariums built in the wall or pet tigers in gilded cages.

Mr. Min, whoever he was, seemed to favor subtlety. There were no life-sized cutouts of his person, no trophy collection showing off his achievements. The walls were painted an off-white, only decorated by the occasional painting. There were no family portraits, no personal belongings indicating that a person actually lived and breathed in this house. If he hadn’t known beforehand, Jungkook would have believed himself to be in some fancy hotel, not a home.

But the lack of personal ornaments did nothing to quell Jungkook’s growing curiosity. Questions whizzed through his brain. Was his employer a successful plastic surgeon? The living space somewhat reminded him of his dentist’s waiting room. Very clinical and clean. Then again, there was really no telling who he was working for. Maybe they were one of those Wolf of Wall Street stock brokers that owned dozens of unused vacation homes. Or, perhaps, Mr. Min happened to be one of those top-of-the-food-chain entertainment producers… His name did sound awfully familiar for some reason he couldn’t—

Jungkook hadn’t even realized his footsteps had slowed down, too caught up in his thoughts.

“You enjoy art?” The sound of your voice roused him from his ruminations. He jumped, head snapping in your direction so fast his neck throbbed.

Your head was tilted in what seemed to be—interest? The angle drew attention to the slope of your neck and for a few short seconds, Jungkook freaked out, wondering if it was normal to find the delicate curve of someone’s neck attractive. Was that too weird? Luckily he hadn’t been outright staring but he could still feel the tips of his ears heat up in embarrassment.

A beat passed as he finally registered your question. Did he like—? Oh. Somewhat belatedly, he realized that you had been talking about the work of art hung up on the far right wall. He must have been staring at it earlier without noticing. Was it a painting? A sculpture? He scratched his neck, not really knowing how to identify it. He couldn’t tell what it was supposed to represent, either, no matter how long he examined it.

“Not particularly... I mean,” he quickly backtracked, suddenly worried this was some kind of test. “I like it, I just don’t know much about it.”

It was easier to settle for honesty. Lying had never been his strongest suit. Besides, as much as he’d like to impress you, he had no actual knowledge to show off. And he’d rather be ignorant than a liar. Knowledge—well, he could always catch up on and learn what he didn’t know. Trust, however, was hard to earn back when lost.

“I find certain pieces nice to look at but my appreciation for art is rather superficial.”

Although you covered it well, he could tell you were slightly put off by his answer, almost as if you had been expecting something else. Jungkook worried his bottom lip, nervous he had said the wrong thing.

“I see...” Your eyes slid over to the artwork. “Beauty is subjective, isn’t it? Art is supposed to adhere to those rules, too. Some people will find this pretty, some won’t. And yet... It’s not that simple, either. Who assigns value to a piece? The artist or the consumer? I wonder about that sometimes.”

Jungkook nodded, unsure what else to say. You didn’t seem to mind the lack of commentary, continuing on, “I think about it a lot, actually. How do you define someone’s worth?”

Your expression shifted into something indecipherable, gaze slightly glassy, mind elsewhere. Remembering yourself, you covered it up with a polite smile.

“That there is a Rudolf Stingel piece, worth just a little over 5 million. It’s one of my favorites.”

He covered his shock with a loud cough that sounded more like a choke.

“Five million?” Disbelief colored his tone. Five million. Holy shit. “I-Is Mr. Min an art collector?”

Bitterly, Jungkook thought about how he could spend the rest of his life cleaning pools and never make enough to buy a scrap of metal signed Stingel. Not that he wanted to own one. It was just... The idea of being rich enough to spend millions on junk was—

He swallowed, forcing the feeling down. He tried very hard not to think about how one piece of metal could pay for the entirety of his tuition and then some. If he did, he’d likely spiral into depression. Being a broke college student sucked.

“You could say that...”

You shrugged, half smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. It wasn’t like the blinding, 100-watt beam you had flashed his way the moment the front door had swung open. This version was less overwhelming, but certainly no less potent. The slow curl of your lips made it easier to admire the defined features of your face. Jungkook swallowed.

Beauty was subjective? Maybe so. Jungkook had no taste for the two-dimensional. He wouldn’t be able to discern a Monet from a Picasso if asked. But something about you had him inclined to change his mind. 

Jungkook had seen beautiful women parade before him—but none like you. Your beauty was eerie—pretty in an almost unnatural way. You looked like a painting brought to life. There was something soft and sharp about your traits, like the definition of a marble statue and the roundness of a paintbrush stroking a canvas all in one. 

“—He does buy a lot of it.”

“I see...” If Mr. Min had objects worth 5 million casually displayed in plain sight, he had to be the type of individual Jungkook would never cross paths with in his everyday life. They belonged to two different worlds, their orbits never meant to cross paths.

“Come on.” You smiled kindly, yanking him out of his stupor. “I still have to show you the pool.”

Dutifully, he followed after you, his steps measured and careful. Now was not the time to go breaking million dollar vases from the Qing dynasty or whatever other valuable pieces Mr. Min had acquired over the years. He sure as hell didn’t have five million in his bank account around to spend on damages. The mere possibility of getting fired on the first day, 5 million in debt, made his skin crawl unpleasantly. He shuddered.

“It’s a bit cold in here,” you apologized once you noticed him rubbing his arms. Goosebumps had raised on his skin. “Should I turn the AC off?”

“I’m fine! Really. Please don’t worry. I’ll be working outside, anyway. Unless… Is it, uh, an indoor pool?” He hadn’t considered that a possibility until now. Maybe there were even multiple pools to clean.

“No, no, the pool’s outside.” You continued your explanation as you led him through the conservatory. The glass ceiling allowed for natural sunlight to filter through, enhancing the aesthetic appeal of the room. Out of all the rooms he had walked through so far, this one seemed like the most inviting.  “You can see it from here. See? Just through here. There’s no justifiable need for an indoor pool since the one we have is heated.”

Jungkook picked up on the strange use of pronoun—we—but didn’t question it. His thoughts were all jumbled up, anxiety making him unable to focus on one topic for too long. “Although, I suppose you could say there isn’t much need for this one, either. It rarely gets used… Honestly, I can’t remember the last time Yoongi went for a swim. It’s almost a waste.”

It took him several seconds for him to realize you were referring to Mr. Min. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered how long you had worked under Mr. Min to be able to address him by his first name. Or maybe his boss was lax about these kind of things? Jungkook somehow doubted it. The man he had on the phone last night hadn’t given off that impression at all.

“Is Mr. Min not home often?” he asked tentatively, hoping his interest wasn’t blatant. Jungkook wasn’t sure if his questions were appropriate or not but thankfully you didn’t seem to mind his curiosity. “Will I meet him today?”

“He should be stopping by later for lunch...” Your voice trailed off before you remembered his first question. “But, no. He spends most of his time locked up in his office, so I doubt you’ll see him very often.”

You said this as you turned your face away. Eyes downcast, you failed to notice when Jungkook caught your grimace from the glass door’s reflection. Jungkook diverted his gaze, somehow feeling like he had seen something he shouldn’t have.

“Ah, here we are.” You slid the glass door open and a gust of warm air blew in his face.

Jungkook stepped out onto the deck, one of his hands raised to block his view from the sun. The garden was in full bloom, a colorful arrangement of hydrangeas, astilbe and daylilies lining the stone pathway that wound down to the gazebo and the pool. A thick, sweet scent hung heavy in the air, so strong it made his nose twitch.

He followed you down the patio, watching in fascination as you walked atop of uneven stone steps with expertise despite the thinness and tallness of your heels.

“I’ll have to get another key double made for the shed, I forgot to get another one done. We keep all the cleaning equipment in here. Next time you come, you can come straight back here after someone’s buzzed you in.”

Jungkook nodded as you showed him where to check the water circulation.

“Do you have any questions? Hm, I think I covered everything. Although I’m sure there’ll be things I’ll need to tell you along the way because I tend to be forgetful.”

It occurred to him that he didn’t know what kind of job you occupied. The question balanced on the tip of his tongue. Would it be considered rude to ask? He swallowed it back down after failing to muster the courage to ask.

“Hm?” You made an inquisitive sound, head tilting slightly. “What is it? You can ask me anything.”

“So, uh, have you worked here long? Do you like it here?”

“Worked here…? Oh. Oh!” Your look of surprise morphed into one of amusement. The corners of your mouth pressed down together in an effort to hold back a laugh.

Jungkook grew uneasy. Somehow, without needing an explanation, he knew he had said the wrong thing.

“I don’t work here. Well. I suppose being a housewife is an occupation in itself, so I guess… Almost a year?” You fiddled with the ring on your index finger, the encrusted diamonds sparkling as the facets reflected the sunlight. “It’s our anniversary on the twentieth. So, yeah, almost a year.”

Jungkook stared at it without comprehending. It was like every cog in his brain had screeched to an abrupt halt.

“Housewife…?” Jungkook’s mouth fell open as he put two and two together. His brain had begun to catch up but it was still buffering like some early 2000 computer that was unable to process large amounts of information without crashing. “You’re—but you’re so young—? Not that that’s a reason for—I thought, I mean, I shouldn’t have—”

Stop talking. Stop. Talking.

“Sorry. For, you know. Assuming. It was wrong of me. Um.” He knew he should stop talking. He knew it and yet— “H-happy anniversary?”

His ears burned with mortification. If the ground could split open and swallow him whole, now would be a fantastic time for it to do so. He had always had shit brain-to-mouth filter but this was… Fuck. He wanted to bang his head against a wall but refrained from doing so, not ready to risk losing more brain cells.

You burst out into laughter, your shoulders shaking from the force of it.

“The look on your face,” you snickered, finally pulling yourself together. “I don’t usually get that kind of reaction. People are usually a lot less... Well. It doesn’t really matter what they’re like. They don’t matter.”

Jungkook hastily apologized again, fearing he had vexed you.

God, you probably thought he was the world’s biggest dumbass. He sure felt like one.

In his defense, your marital status hadn’t been a painfully obvious fact. Jungkook hadn’t even considered the possibility that Mr. Min was a married man. The house he had walked through earlier had lacked convivial warmth, giving the impression of vacancy. There were no wedding pictures framed on the mantle or any other piece of evidence of a lover.

Perhaps it was the age that had further thrown him off—you couldn’t be that much older than him. Maybe two years older? Five, at the most? The deep voice he had heard over the phone last night had given off the impression that Mr. Min was eons older. In Jungkook’s mind, he pictured a man with a balding head, fine lines near his eyes. Maybe Jungkook had been completely off from the start. But then again, Mr. Min couldn’t possibly be that young, either.

He did some quick mental math, trying to calculate and estimate how young Mr. Min could be. Sure, he had seen movies depicting extremely young and successful CEO’s but the real world worked differently. Mr. Min had to be in his thirties…at the earliest.

“Don’t worry about it.” You waved his concerns away with a flick of your wrist. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it. Trust me…I’m really good at knowing when someone’s being intentionally insulting.”

The last part was said carelessly, like the words hadn’t actually meant to be voiced aloud. His brows scrunched up in confusion; try as he might, he didn’t understand what you meant.

“I’m really sorry,” he squeaked out, his ears still uncomfortably hot. He wiped his brow with the back of hand. 

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not something that bothers me.”

Jungkook only allowed himself to relax when he caught sight of the easygoing smile gracing your lips. “Well then, I think I covered about everything. If you don’t have anything else you need explained, I’ll let you at it. Why don’t I head on inside and get you some refreshments? It’s so hot out today—I wouldn’t want you to get a heatstroke.”

“That’ll be great.” Jungkook nodded in thanks. Now that you mentioned it, his mouth felt unbearably parched. He made a mental note to bring a water bottle for next time.

“Want anything in particular? I think we have just about everything stocked up in the fridge. Juice, sparkling water, cola...?”

“Water sounds perfect, thank you.”

Jungkook tried not to stare when you turned on your heels and walked away. He really did. Except it was hard not to notice how well the dress you wore flattered your figure, emphasizing the curves of your body in all the right places.

It was a futile battle; his eyes refused to cooperate with his internal demands. Honest to God, he tried really hard not to look but your legs looked fa—

He shook his head as if the action would somehow help him clear his thoughts. Get a fucking grip! his inner voice of reason yelled at him.

You were married.

To his boss.

He let that sink in. Or tried to. Jungkook didn’t need to have an IQ of 155 to know that having the hots for the woman married to his boss would ultimately result in disaster. Nothing good would ever come out of it. Why would you even consider looking at other men? Only a dumbass would think he stood a chance. Your husband probably provided everything you needed and more.

But what should have been sufficient incentive to put an end to his cru—whatever the hell it was—wasn’t doing jack shit. The only resounding thought in his mind right then was a constant loop of I’m so fuuucked. Because if there was one thing Jungkook was good at, it was spotting a losing battle when he saw one. But one thing he was bad at? Abandoning a sinking ship.

.

Back in the kitchen, you were feeling similarly distressed.

The corners of your mouth downturned into a frown as your eyes raked over the familiar penmanship.

Don’t wait up for me tonight.

You peeled the post-it note off the fridge, checking the back of the yellow paper to make sure you hadn’t overlooked any words he might have tacked on as an afterthought. Foolishly, your heart hoped to find any semblance of an apology—anything that would prove that somewhere behind his impassive mask he still loved you.

It was, unsurprisingly, blank.

Admittedly, your husband was a man of few words. He had never been known for flowery speeches, preferring to keep it curt and to the point. Efficiency, he called it.

Realistically, you should have known Yoongi wouldn’t have been able to spend the day with you. More often than not last minute work emergencies called him into office, interrupting whatever plans you had made for that day. This wasn’t outside the norm. Yoongi’s work came first and foremost. You had never deluded yourself into thinking otherwise and had never resented him for it, either.

Still...you remembered a time when he had put in more effort than a half-assed, scribbled note. Before he had tied the knot, Yoongi had been more attentive and thoughtful. There wasn’t a day that you didn’t wake up to the smell of fresh flowers, hand-picked and arranged in a crystal vase by your bedside. He never failed to call during the day between board meetings to check up on you and always made sure to make up for his absences one way or another.

Being with Yoongi came with its set of disclaimers and downsides, but like any worthwhile relationship, you had been willing to overlook these hardships. It wasn’t difficult to, not when Yoongi always showered you with prettily wrapped up gifts and hot mouthed kisses, erasing any doubts that sprouted within you. 

Gradually, all that had changed. There were no more flowers, no more impromptu calls, no more candlelit dinners.

Whatever love that had previously existed was nowhere to be found. The notes he left around the house had become sparse and dismissive. You looked back down at his message and held back a scoff. The paper creased between your fingers and you had half a mind to ball it up and throw it away, along with the frustration simmering under the surface of your skin.

It was impossible to pinpoint the exact moment change had happened but somewhere down the line, the affection that used to gleam in his eyes had melted away, leaving behind a stony face devoid of warmth. You could imagine his face as he had written the note, features smoothed over into the same inscrutable look he reserved for his business clients.

“Guess it’s just going to be me and Euna today.” You glanced at your watch, the steel heavy around your delicate wrist, and desperately attempted to refocus your attention.

Your stomach twisted unpleasantly but you forced the nauseating feeling down with a forced out sigh. 

Everything was fine. Besides, life went on and it wouldn’t wait for you to get your feelings under wraps.

You had been looking forward to having brunch with your sister and husband, but. Things happened. It was nothing to be upset about. You’d get over it after stuffing your face with a croissant or two.

When you came back with refreshments, Jungkook could tell something was wrong. He could see it by the hunch in your shoulders, the straight line of your mouth.

“Change of plans.” You set the sterling silver tray down with a thunk. The glass pitcher’s content sloshed around, threatening to spill over. He noticed there were bits of cut up—cucumbers?—floating around in the water. Weird. He wondered if it was considered rude to pick them out.

When he looked back at you, all of his inner ramblings ceased. Even though he didn’t know you well—or at all, really—worry still niggled at his heart. He wasn’t sure what exactly had happened in the last ten minutes, but the look on your face was cause for concern. He just...didn’t know if it was his place to ask.

You took a glance at your wristwatch unaware of his silent predicament.

“You’ll get to meet Yoongi some other time, hopefully. I thought I might get to introduce the two of you today when he stopped by for lunch, but it’s work related business and you know how that is.”

Jungkook nodded, knowing better than to speak. You smiled and shrugged, but he could detect an undercurrent of frustration. The smile looked different than the one you had on when you had doubled over in laughter—this one was a little strained at the corners, too wide to be completely genuine.

“Sorry to leave you here like this. I know it’s your first day.” You breathed out a sigh, shoulders drooping. “But I’m meeting my sister soon and I don’t want to get stuck in traffic.”

“’s cool. I’ve cleaned pools before, I should be able to handle myself fine.”

“Oh, and if you want a refill, just head on inside and ask June. She’ll get you whatever you like. She’s cleaning the upper floor right now, but she’ll be in the kitchen later. She’s a real gem, I bet you’ll like her.”

“Thanks—for this and everything else.” Jungkook’s eyes crinkled at the corners as he sent you a smile. “I’ll look forward to meeting your husband some other time.”

“It will be his pleasure,” you said, not realizing how spot on your statement would turn out to be.

.

.

In hindsight, maybe you should’ve cancelled your outing altogether and stayed home—if only to spare you from the embarrassment brought on by your sister’s sudden exclamation.

“What do you mean he doesn’t want to have sex?!” Euna’s voice rose in incredulity.

It was louder than what etiquette dictated as appropriate, and you had to hide your flinch behind a strained smile. You felt eyes bore into you from all sides as people swiveled around to stare in your direction.

An elderly lady dressed head to toe in Chanel tweed snickered into her napkin after giving you a once-over.

“Will you. Keep. It. Down.” You reclined back on your chair, your shoulders hunching in on themselves defensively. “We’re in public, Euna. So if you don’t mind, I’d prefer it if everyone here wasn’t up to date with my sad and pitiful sex life, because that’s really the last thing I need right now, thanks.”

“Oh no.” Euna dabbed the sides of her mouth with a napkin, deathly serious. “We’re talking about this now. I know you. You haven’t told anyone else about this. Not that I blame you, honestly. Your friends are all attention craving socialites. And it’s not like you’d ever go tell Mom about this. Not when she’s expecting you to pop a baby out soon. She’d probably find a way to lock you and Yoongi up in some room until you conceive her first grandkid.”

“Can we not talk about babies right now? Or Mom.” You repressed a shudder because fuck. That was another problem altogether—one that you were not equipped to handle at this very moment.

“Fine,” she agreed easily. “Talk to me about your dick problems instead, then.”

“What do you want me to say?”

Your attempt at nonchalance was weak at best. In front of you, the porcelain plate, stacked high with delicious French and Danish pastries, remained practically untouched. Usually by now half of them would have been devoured, down to the very last crumb. If that wasn’t an indicator that something was wrong then what was?

“There’s literally nothing to talk about. We haven’t had sex in weeks. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Weeks?!” Her glossy lips parted in shock. The emphasis on the plural form made you wince. As if you needed the reminder. “What the fuck.”

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” you said glumly, allowing a frown to draw on your features. As much as you liked to pretend you were fine with your husband’s increasingly distant behavior, it was impossible to keep up the pretense in front of your sister. She had a way of extracting the truth from you—even if it was a truth you were reluctant to face.

“Do you think... Um.” There was a slight pause as Euna gathered her thoughts, still trying to get over the shock of your confession. She lowered her voice to a whisper, perhaps finally realizing that the couple seated next to you were doing a piss poor job at eavesdropping. “D’you think he might be...cheating on you?”

Your rebuttal came out immediately, without a single trace of hesitation, “No way.”

“Are you sure?”

Your hardened expression did nothing to deter her from pressing the issue. “I mean, it’s not too far-fetched to imagine him having a sizzling office romance with a coworker. Or maybe there’s a rival executive he could be sticking his dick in to seal a—”

“No. Yoongi’s not. He’s not like that.” You shook your head, trying to clear your vision from the offensive images her words had conjured up. “He’s just been busy and stressed with work, that’s all. There’s a big merger happening soon and there are still a lot of things under negotiation right now so he has a lot going on.”

“Well what about a blowjob? No? Not even an under the desk handjob?”

Her Alexander Wang silk blouse wrinkled under her crossed her arms. The look of betrayal painted on her face made it seem like you had offended her on a personal level. Honestly you weren’t sure why she was getting so worked up over this. It wasn’t her dick getting neglected. “Look, I don’t know about you, but I’ve never had a guy refuse a good ol’ dick sucking.”

“Well good for you.” Your voice lacked sincerity, dry as the desert.

“And I’m 90% sure all the pent up cum that accumulated in his balls is the reason Yoongi’s acting like such a grade ass prick.”

“Read that in Science Weekly, did you?”

“As a matter of fact,” Euna narrowed her eyes at your tone. “Doctors say that blowing your load on the regular is the secret to a long and prosperous life.”

“The ‘expert’ opinion in Cosmo isn’t considered medical backup.”

“Well are they wrong? If you got dicked down more often I bet you wouldn’t be so fucking snappy all the time. Frowning like that is only going to give you premature wrinkles. And that’s a fact.”

“Why do you have to make it a matter of dick or death. Jesus, it’s not that dramatic. I bet all couples go through these dry spells every once in awhile. It can’t be that uncommon.”

“It is! Keeping your vagina happy, keeps you happy. As an extension of—”

“Would it kill you to be serious for a second?”

She huffed, feeling wrongfully rebuked. “It’s your sex life is on the line, not mine.”

That sobered you up a lot more quickly than you would ever like to admit. “I’m well aware...” You pursed your lips into a pout. “Look, it’s not that he doesn’t want sex with me. He just doesn’t have time for it. Because of work. I’m sure everything will go back to normal in a few weeks.”

“In a few weeks? Uh...” Euna trailed off. “Can you even hold off that long?”

“Ha, your faith in me is astounding. I’ll have you know that I’m perfectly capable of going without sex for a month. Or two. I’m sure it won’t kill me... It’s not, like, the end of the world or anything.”

Euna’s raised brows made it clear that she didn’t believe you for one second. “Wasn’t the last time you abstained from sex for more than a month in—” She stopped, deep in thought. “When was the last time you took a break from sex? You have the sex drive of a rabbit.”

“That’s not important,” you snapped, stabbing your fork into a cheese tart. The rich, creamy texture melted on your tongue as soon as you bit into it, but for some reason your favorite dessert tasted like ash in your mouth. “I know you’re trying to help, but sex isn’t the magical solution to everything. It won’t fix anything. Not that anything needs fixing, I’m just saying.”

Sensing that the conversation was drawing to a close, Euna scooted backwards in her chair and stretched her arms. “Mhm, okay, if you say so. Good luck with all that... I sure wouldn’t want to be in your place, that’s for sure.”

That made two of you. 

“Thanks,” you sighed. “Just. Whatever, it’s okay, I’m fine. It’s really not a big deal.”

“Uh-huh. Well if things ever start to become...not okay...you can always—”

“I said everything’s fine,” you cut off sharply, effectively putting the conversation to rest. Your appetite lost, you set your fork down.

Regrettably, Euna’s words rattled you more than you cared to admit. You couldn’t shake off her warnings and advice no matter how much you tried to. Throughout the day, you found your thoughts wandering back to the conversation with your sister. Could she be right? The longer you let yourself ponder the issue, the more your doubts grew.

Despite your best efforts, you had no way of stopping these poisonous thoughts from plaguing your mind. No one was around to help you get rid of them and without an outlet, they grew and grew, culminating into an unbearable ache. 

You hated the feeling of loneliness—of being alone and helpless, with nothing but your own thoughts to entertain you. You wished Yoongi would hurry up and come back home so that you could find refuge in his embrace. The bed was too big for just you alone and you hated seeing how empty it was without Yoongi snuggled up next to you. It was always during the time before sleep claimed you that his absence was the most painful to swallow. The overwhelming feeling of loneliness kept you awake for hours. Sometimes, no matter how exhausted you were, your body refused to cooperate unless it knew Yoongi was laying down at your side.

It was with no surprise that you found yourself all alone in the king sized bed that night, Yoongi’s side untouched and unoccupied. Your fingers reached out to where his sleeping figure should have been. Instead of a warm body, you grasped a handful of air. The only reminder that he slept next to you was the faint trace of his aftershave that clung stubbornly to the sheets. You tried not to sigh out in disappointment. You had been doing too much of that lately.

Turning over, you checked your phone for any message notifications despite already knowing that you wouldn’t find what you were waiting for. You curled up in a ball, feeling colder than you had been a few moments ago. Ordinarily, you’d try to stay up and wait for his return, but the day had been so emotionally draining that you slipped into a dreamless sleep the second your eyelids drooped to a close.

.

{SATURDAY. 11.18 am}

.

Despite the unlimited number of TV channels provided, none of the current programs had been interesting enough to capture your attention for longer than a few seconds. Your focus had drifted from the flat screen a long time ago. An infomercial on a 10 speed juice blender buzzed on in the background, but you paid it no heed.

Summer was supposed to be synonymous to leisure and fun. Yet here you were, splayed across the living room’s couch with no tangible vacation plans.

The worst part was that you were alone, with no one to distract you from how utterly and entirely boring your existence had become.

Not that you’d ever confide these innermost feelings to anyone in your entourage. You could already hear your mother’s condescending tone ring through your ears, chastising you for not living your life to the fullest (i.e. spending all of your husband’s hard earned money on luxurious vacation trips to St. Barts or wherever). And sure, trips to St. Barts and St. Tropez were fun—but they weren’t what you wanted. There was no point of going so far overseas when the person you wanted to spend time with was stuck back home. At least here you could see Yoongi from time to time, even if those times were becoming a rarity.

Your friends wouldn’t understand. They had no qualms jetting off every weekend to their private resorts and eating out of season, imported delicacies plated on shining, sterling silver dishes.

Speaking of friends, you flicked through their Instagram accounts, envy stirring in your lower belly as you swiped through their recent pictures, each snapshot showing off lavish hotel rooms equipped with balconies overlooking exotic landscapes and modern skylines. But the designer handbags dangling off their arms weren’t what made you froth at the mouth—you had enough of those lining up your walk-in closet.

No, what you envied the most was how fucking happy they seemed in every single shot. Pic after pic, their whitened smiles never waned.

You blew out a sigh, the heavy sound drowned out by television static.

God. What were you even doing with your life? Was this what you had to look forward to for the next twenty years? Would you and Yoongi even last until then?

This wasn’t how you had imagined your life would turn out when you accepted Min Yoongi’s proposal a year ago.

The honeymoon phase was long over. Even in your company, his attention never strayed too far from his work phone. And that was when he was home. Over the course of the past few months, he had reverted back to the workaholic man his friends and family had always known him to be, leaving behind no trace of the person you had become so taken with.

Working for his attention had always been a challenge. That was what had initially drawn you to him. Out of all the possible suitors lined up for a taste of you, only Min Yoongi’s detachment and feigned disinterest had stood out from the lot. There was something exciting about it, something that kept you on your toes, as opposed to the throng of other candidates that would easily bend to your will. His handsome looks had just been an added bonus.

But somewhere along the way, there had been a shift, too minute to notice on the spot. Now, when Yoongi brushed you off, there was no gleam twinkling in his eyes, no smirk on his lips. It didn’t matter if you wrapped your body up in lace and the finest satin, or stayed up until the early hours of the morning for him to return home—he always asked for a rain check, claiming fatigue.

Eventually, you had stopped trying so hard. There were only so many times you could handle being pushed away again and again before it started to hurt.

As much as you had enjoyed earning the praise and attention in the past, you didn’t like...whatever this had become. It wasn’t a game with rules and limits anymore. When Yoongi pushed you off of him, he meant it. So as much as you appreciated a man who was hardworking and dedicated to his job, you couldn’t help but crave the attention he had stopped giving you. 

The pressure weighing down on your chest increased, making it hard to breathe. Invisible hands had wrapped themselves around your lungs and squeezed hard, leaving no room for air. For an interminable moment, you felt like you were drowning, the sound of your heartbeat drumming in your ears.

When you blinked and swallowed, the feeling had disappeared, leaving you feeling hollow, like someone had dug out your heart with a chisel.

It took a while, but you pushed yourself up into a sitting position and finally made up your mind.

What you needed was a distraction, something to keep your hands and mind busy. You couldn’t stay put like this, trapped in your own thoughts and feelings. If you did, you’d surely go mad.

...The only problem was that there weren’t that many distractions available. You could go out on your own into the city to shop or eat but you dismissed the thought as soon as it had a chance to take form. Your closet was already full to the brim with clothes you hadn’t yet found the chance to wear.

As if she had somehow telepathically perceived your difficulties, June, your housekeeper, materialized into the living room, holding a laundry basket against her hip. Quickly, you gathered to your feet, excited by the prospect of finally finding something to do.

She jumped up in surprise, a high-pitched squeal leaving her throat, not expecting to see you appear in front of her with no prior warning. A strand of her curly hair escaped her wound-up bun but she deftly pinned it back in place after readjusting her hold on the laundry basket.

“Is there anything I can help with?” you asked eagerly.

“Sorry? I don’t quite understand...” 

“Like... I don’t know... Maybe some dishes to clean or socks to fold up...” 

“You want to clean dishes?” she echoed, looking at you as if you had suddenly sprouted a second pair of limbs. 

You tried not to take offense and pursed your lips.

“Yes,” you confirmed with a firm nod of your head. “Any tasks that you might need help with.”

“Are you feeling okay ma’am?” she queried instead, the lines on her forehead expressing genuine worry. “Do you need to lay down? Should I get water? The heat might be—”

“I’m fine! I just.” You wrung your hands in agitation. Why the hell was this so complicated? Since when did cleaning require justification? “I need something to do. I’m so bored I feel like I’m losing it.”

“Ah. I see...” She looked unconvinced by your words but knew better than to voice her concerns. “Alright. In that case you can do the—ah. Hmm. Why don’t you prepare some cold drinks for the pool boy? The weather must be giving him a hard time.”

“That’s it? You don’t need any help with the cleaning? You had the feeling that she didn’t entrust you with the more ‘serious’ household chores because she was worried you’d inadvertently blowup appliances or flood the laundry room again.

(It had happened once. Forever ago. Wasn’t it time to let it go? How were you supposed to know that you needed to measure the detergent before dumping it in?)

“... Maybe later. I’ll be sure to let you know if I need additional assistance, but thank you for offering.” She shot you a professional smile, putting an end to the discussion.

You trudged back to the kitchen, dragging your faux fur slippers across the floor in defeat.

It wasn’t what you had hoped for, but at least you had something to occupy the time with. Knowing that this was your only distraction, you planned on prolonging this task for as long as humanly possible.

What should have taken less than a minute to complete had turned into a tedious chore. You cleaned each strawberry by hand, cutting out the stems with unneeded precision, before slicing them into thin, even pieces. You did the same with the mint leaves and mixed it all into a glass pitcher.

Satisfied with the end result, you poured a generous amount of lemonade into the tall glass before storing the rest in the fridge for later. It was hard to keep the drink balanced on the tray as you slid open the glass door, but you somehow managed to not make a mess.

The heat hit you all at once and you frowned, feeling bad for whoever had been sent out today to clean the pool. It was laborious work and the weather did nothing to alleviate the situation. Nobody wanted to work outside in these less than pleasant conditions which was why it had been a pain the ass to find suitable candidates that were up for the job.

You had tried finding solutions around this problem—like raising the pay rate and alternating between different cleaners every couple of days so that the same one wouldn’t be subjected to the grueling heat all week long. You had been surprised to see how many people sent in applications—not that you were complaining. The only one who had something to say, was Mrs. Kim, the widow from across the street, who liked to grumble about how you were stealing all the good ones.

At the time, you hadn’t quite understood what she had been trying to insinuate. Weren’t all pool cleaners the same? But as you approached the pool, tray balanced dangerously on one hand, it all started to make sense.

Time slowed down like it did in those cheesy, over-the-top kdramas that were all the rage amongst housewives. How many times had you seen the same scenario play out whenever the male protagonist appeared on screen for the first time and met eyes with the heroine from across the room?

It was like you had suddenly been thrust into the drama lead’s shoes. Everything else seemed to fade away, your gaze drawn to man in front of you like a moth to a flame. It was impossible not to stare. Some invisible magnetic force kept your eyes fixated on him. The world could have been crumbling around you for all you knew.

His damp clothes clung to his body like a second skin, revealing sinewy muscles worthy of Calvin Klein billboards. Greedily, you drank in his figure, your gaze lingering on the attractive curve of his ass and the outline of his abs visible through the now see-through white shirt.

You gulped audibly, your mouth unpleasantly dry. It was distracting. He was distracting. Only a miracle had kept you from dropping the tray you were holding. 

Eyes closed, the man tipped his head back and brought his right hand up, carding his fingers through his wet locks. Like a magnet, your eyes were immediatley drawn to his bare neck.

You were transfixed. There was no other word or explanation for it. Even if you had been able to, the chance of you peeling your eyes away from the spectacle in front of you was slim to none.

It hadn’t even registered how ridiculous you probably looked, with your feet planted to the ground and your mouth parted in evident awe.

You took a much needed moment to appreciate his profile—your eyes running down the sharp line of his jaw and down the slope of his neck towards his exposed collarbones. Water droplets dripped down his handsome face and in that very moment you swore that he looked like he had stepped out of a high-end underwear advertisement.

He strung a spare towel around his neck before turning his full attention onto you. Instantly, you were struck by how alive his eyes appeared. They glinted with thinly-veiled mischief. That, the fullness of his lips, and the confident smirk he sported, gave him a youthful and playful mien that contrasted with his virile and attractive build.

“Er...” You coughed, politely averting your eyes from his body. “Do you— Do you need me to get you a spare pair of swim trunks? Yours look a little, um, small.”

You winced, knowing it had been the wrong thing to say.

“Oh?” There was a teasing lilt to his voice that had you looking up at him in alarm. His smile widened, the corners of his eyes creasing into crescents. “Please don’t bother. I work better in these.”

“Oh...well... If you’re sure.”

“Certain.”

He licked his lips. His eyes were hooded, heavy lids doing nothing to subdue the sultry look aimed your way.

“Alright.” You swallowed and paused, searching for the appropriate words. In the span of a few short seconds, your brain had short circuited. You got the next few words out, tongue heavy in your mouth. “If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Your name would be nice.” An easy smile sat on his lips.

“______.” You included your last name, hoping he’d get the hint. Briefly, you remembered your interaction with one of the other pool boys, Jungkook, and how flustered he had gotten over his mistake. The one standing in front of you couldn’t have been more different.

“Park Jimin. You can call me Jimin.” He glanced down at the platter you gripped onto with both hands. “This for me?”

Light reflected off the metallic surface of the tray and you were reminded of what you had stepped out the house for.

“Yes, please have something to drink. I made it earlier, I hope it’s to your taste.”

“Thanks for thinking of me.” He took the glass of freshly pressed lemonade off the tray, using the opportunity to step closer to you. The sharp scent of chlorine tickled your nose but to your surprise, it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. “It gets awfully hot out here and I get so thirsty. You know what I mean, right?”

His voice was as sweet as cotton candy. It took a moment for you to realize he had stopped talking and a few seconds more for you to remember how to form words of your own.

“I try to make refreshments available for all the staff. Everyone works really hard, even in this weather, so I’m thankful,” you said, trying to retain a certain air of professionalism. Hopefully it would be enough to stop him from seeing through the bullshit spouting from your mouth.

Jimin jutted out his bottom lip in a pout before raising his glass to his mouth. He took a big gulp, probably all too aware of the way you were tracking the movement with your eyes. In what was probably a calculated and premeditated move, the pink of his tongue darted out to lick the sweetness off his lips. Distantly, you noted how full and rosy his lips were.

“Aw. And here’s to thinking I was special.”

He let out an exaggerated sigh and shook his head. Water droplets fell from his wet fringe, the soaked strands sticking to his forehead. “So what’s a pretty thing like you doing shacked up, hm?”

“What?” The bluntness of his words caught you off guard. You were used to people being coy, hiding their pretenses behind smiles and well-versed pleasantries. Jimin’s forwardness left you momentarily dumbfounded and at a loss for words.

“Gotta admit, when I took up this job I was expecting to land the standard.” Jimin laughed, pleased. “Can’t deny this is a welcome surprise. Nothing wrong with the older crowd, but you’re definitely something else.”

“E-Excuse me?”

“So what’s your story?” His eyes raked over your form. Unabashed, he lingered on the swell of your breasts, the dip at your waist. You blinked, the apples of your cheeks warming as you remembered you hadn’t worn a bra. You hadn’t thought much about your choice of outfit before—it was thin and comfortable enough to wear around the house, the silky material soft against your skin. Jimin seemed to appreciate the selection, too, if the way his eyes darkened in approval was any indication.

He tapped a finger against the pout of his lips in mock contemplation. “Let me guess. Married a geezer who’s too busy banging his hot secretary to look after you. And when he does, you wish he didn’t because his stamina is shit. Can he even get it up? Heard old age does that to you, not that I would know...”

He shrugged, the smile on his lips sympathetic.

“Yoongi isn’t like that,” you denied right away, a frown ruining your expression. You knew that the conversation was most definitely crossing lines that shouldn’t be crossed. You kept telling yourself to put an end to it before it could get out of hand.

“No?” Jimin leaned in, close enough for you to feel his hot breath fan across your skin.

You didn’t dare move, let alone breathe. Any closer and your breasts would graze his chest. The shocking part was that you almost wanted it to happen. Not that—not that you wanted it to happen with Jimin, specifically. You just wanted. Your body had been suspended in a constant state of yearning for so long that it didn’t take much to stir its interest.

He stepped back to properly appraise you. A shudder ran down your back as you struggled not to let your emotions show. “You look awfully desperate for someone who should be getting dicked down on the regular.”

You opened your mouth to retort but no sound came out.

The heat in his gaze left you breathless. Yoongi used to look at you the same way, before. You remembered the hunger, the way your body used to warm up and ache and squirm under the power of his gaze. Whenever he looked at you with those eyes, your knees would buckle and you’d fall to your knees without question.

“Trust me,” Jimin continued on, oblivious to the perverse thoughts running through your mind. “If that was my ring on your finger, you’d never leave our bed because you’d be too fucked out to even get up. What’s that husband of yours thinking?”

He shook his head, not expecting a verbal answer from you. When he spoke up, his voice had a dangerous undertone.

“It’s because he’s not satisfying your needs,” he said matter of factly. “If he wasn’t as disappointing in bed as you claimed, there’s no way you’d be out here, panting for my dick down your throat instead of his. Isn’t that right, sweetheart? You need a nice, thick cock to fill you all the way up. And I can give you what you want, you just gotta say the word.”

Were you being that obvious?

You bit back the whimper threatening to claw its way out your throat. His words kindled a desire deep inside of you—a primal desire you had valiantly tried to suppress for the past month. Yet with only a few well chosen sentences, he had coaxed that need back to the surface, putting all your efforts to waste.

Different scenarios and possibilities flashed in front of your eyes like a fast-forwarded montage. You were so caught up in your thoughts, the infinite could if’s, that Jimin’s disappointed sigh had become background noise.

“Too much?”

You blinked up at him owlishly, not fully grasping the situation until he had taken a few steps back. Even as he backed off, the smirk never fully melted off his face which was a little disconcerting.

Thankfully, the newfound space separating both of you made it easier to breathe, to think straight.

With a surprisingly steady voice, you spoke out. “Jimin, I’m married—”

“I know.” Jimin shrugged as if what you had told him was an inconsequential detail.

Nonplussed by Jimin’s behavior, you bit the inside of your cheek.

Shouldn’t this guy have some morals? Usually men backed off at the mention of a husband but Jimin refused to conform to the norm. Based on what he had previously insinuated, he probably had fucked his fair share of married women. So was it all a game to him? A kink? An ego thing? Were you doomed to be just another notch on his belt? You furrowed your brow, trying to figure out the conundrum that was Park Jimin.

He misinterpreted your silence and sighed, an exaggerated pout on his pink lips.

“It was worth a try... The offer still stands, if you ever change your mind.”

“And what if I don’t?”

“I won’t do anything you don’t want me to. I’m not going to force myself onto you or anything.” He grimaced at the thought. “But you should know that the option’s there. I wasn’t lying about what I said earlier... You deserve to be with someone who knows what he’s doing... And by the looks of it... He’s not fucking you nearly or well enough to keep you satisfied. I’m more than willing to be of service in any way I can. I promise you won’t be disappointed, I’ve never gotten complaints before.”

He pushed his hair back as his eyes perused your form again, his gaze half-lidded. You swallowed the lump in your throat and looked away. You hated how correct most of his assumptions had been. And what you hated even more was how certain he seemed about it all, like his words were the absolute truth.

Something about that irked you. You hated being read so easily—by a stranger, no less. It was embarrassing, how easily he had assessed your situation and lumped you with the countless other bored housewives he had undoubtedly had his way with.  

“Well, thanks for the offer, but no thanks, I’m good. I’m perfectly fine. I appreciate your concern, but it’s not needed.” Even to your own ears, your speech failed to sound convincing. At this point, you weren’t sure who you were trying to persuade—Jimin or yourself. Either way, you weren’t proving to be very capable; your words rung out false and hollow.

“Enjoy the rest of your drink. I hope it quenches your thirst.”

And with that, you turned your head and scurried back into the sanctity of your house, far away from sin and temptation itself. Heart palpitating, you swore that you felt Jimin’s gaze follow you all the way to the door, clinging to you like a shadow. The look he had given you right before you scampered off was one that you’d spend the rest of the day trying to forget.

Unfortunately for you, time was not a sufficient balm to soothe over the heat Jimin’s words ignited. Long after the sun had set, the utter filth that had spilled from his lips kept running through your mind, keeping you up.

Sleep was impossible to find, not that you were surprised. It was becoming a regular occurrence and you figured that you should go seek a doctor’s help if your condition didn’t improve soon.

But you knew that what you needed were neither pills nor herbal concoctions—your body needed Yoongi. You missed his presence, the way he stroked your cheek after you pulled back from a kiss, the way he kept eye contact when he pushed his thick cock between your legs.

God, you fucking missed that asshole.

You hadn’t always hated how much you depended on your husband. You had wealth of your own—or rather your family had wealth of their own—but all your personal expenses and whims had been funded and provided by Yoongi. All of your possessions had been bought with his money—everything from the imported cars, the luxury bags, the designer goods, and the summer residence in The Hamptons you visited every now and then.

The dependence hadn’t bothered you before. And it still didn’t—not in the way that it might bother or embarrass others, anyway. You never felt like you were in his debt after spending hefty amounts of money; that was not how your relationship worked. 

What made you uneasy was how physically dependent on him you had become. It wasn’t until you had been repeatedly denied from his touch that you realized how much your body craved it, ran on it like how a car needed fuel.

Tonight was the night, you finally decided, determination set in your features.

Reaching into the closet, you pulled out your most recent purchase from La Perla and slipped it on, making sure it still looked as good as it had a week ago in the dressing room mirror. You hadn’t found the right moment to wear it and figured it wouldn’t hurt to put the expensive lingerie to good use.

A nervous energy tingled down your spine as you got ready. Anticipation was building inside your belly but you couldn’t tell if it was the good or bad kind. You were brought back to a time when it had been fun to surprise Yoongi. Those had been the best nights—even the mere memory of them had your thighs squeezing together. Back then, the possibility that he might shut you down hadn’t existed.

Maybe you already knew, deep down, that you were setting yourself up for failure.

It still didn’t stop your chest from constricting painfully around your ribs when Yoongi reacted exactly the way you had feared he might.

“What’s gotten into you?” His face conveyed confusion, his gaze flickering from the lit candles around the room to the way your body was splayed out indecently on the bed, body covered by the barest scraps of frill and lace.

On any other day, the sharpness in his tone would have been enough to cut through your confidence and back off. You would have dropped the subject and moved on. But this time the sting of rejection wasn’t easy to dismiss, repetition only making it worse.  

“What does it look like I’m doing?” you snapped, frustration getting the best of you. You sat up from your position on the bed, not missing the way his gaze dropped down to your exposed chest. To your great disappointment, you couldn’t spot any arousal in his expression. He might as well have been looking at a blank sheet of paper. What had changed? Was it him—or was it you?  

Your sister’s words from a few days ago were creeping back now, reinforcing all the doubts and dejection you had fought so hard to suppress. Why didn’t he want you? Were you not desirable anymore? Had he found someone else to fulfill his primal needs? And if he had, what did that mean for you?

What the hell were you supposed to do with a husband that refused to touch you, let alone talk to you?

A sickly feeling rose up your throat, the acidic taste of bile flooding your mouth.  

“Do you not love me anymore?”

The question was meant as an accusation, the words supposed to carry the weight of all your pent up fury and bitterness. Instead of the harshness you had intended, your voice came out feeble and wrung out. The truth was that you were afraid of his answer and what it would do to you. Yoongi’s words were the only ones capable of breaking through the armor you had built around yourself. You didn’t care for the gossiping housewives or the scummy tabloids. But Yoongi? He had always been different. Important. Yours.

“Don’t be ridiculous. It doesn’t suit you,” he chided none too gently.

“Can you stop that?” In the bedroom, the authority he wielded aroused you to no end. But sometimes, like now, Yoongi’s tone and wording rubbed you the wrong way. Did your feelings not matter anymore? When he spoke like that, it made you feel so small. And not in a good way, not the way you liked to feel like during good sex or when he hugged you, limbs wrapped around yours like your own personal fortress.

You pulled the strings of your robe together, your body turned to ice. The see-through material was lightweight and flimsy, doing nothing to obscure your body from view or keep you warm. 

Why had you tried in the first place? Like Yoongi said, you felt ridiculous.

Pride bruised and battered, you attempted to keep your wobbly voice steady.

“God, you can be so condescending when you want to be. I’m not a plaything you only listen to and take care of when it pleases you. I’m your wife, not some plant you need to water every two weeks, don’t you get that?” You weren’t even angry anymore. All you wanted was for this to be over and for your relationship to go back to the way it was before. You were tired of feeling insecure, tired of waiting and wanting. Just...tired.

Yoongi’s brows furrowed, his mouth opened as if to voice his immediate protest.

“I’m not—” He cut himself off, lips thinning into a frown. The deep line between his brows never smoothed over, as if permanently etched onto his features. He bit the inside of his mouth, taking a moment to choose his next words carefully.

Maybe it was a trick of the light, but he suddenly appeared older, closer to the age written down on his official documents. Genetics had given Yoongi smooth skin and good looks that made him look more youthful than his actual age. But as he stood there in front of you, you could tell that Yoongi’s beauty was marred by evident signs of fatigue and stress. 

“I... I didn’t know I made you feel that way,” he confessed sounding genuinely regretful. “I wasn’t—it wasn’t my intention to. I’m sorry it came off that way. I don’t think of you like that, just so you know.”

The silence that followed his words stretched on for several long seconds.

He didn’t look away from your probing gaze. Even without searching, you knew his words to ring true. He was a bad liar. Good at keeping his feelings locked under key, yes, but never one to outright deceive others. Yoongi had always been bad at expressing affection. He was also bad at reading feelings. He was probably so caught up with his workload that he hadn’t noticed at all.

In retrospect, your outburst had been somewhat unfair. Maybe you were being unreasonable, adding on to his extensive list of worries.

But, no. That didn’t sound quite right, either. Just because he hadn’t been aware that your feelings had been hurt, did not mean that what you felt wasn’t valid. You weren’t selfish for wanting to be happy. You shouldn’t have to feel guilty for wanting to be loved.

“I know,” you said, voice quiet enough to pass as a whisper. 

Yoongi’s sharp eyes softened. The hard lines around his mouth rounded into a small smile.

“Come here.” He walked over to the bed, his legs spreading as he sat down.

The open invitation was one you were powerless to resist. Although you knew the conversation was far from over, you had missed his warmth and his touch far too much to refuse him. Your entire body hummed, itching for the close physical contact that you had been denied for so long.

His thighs flexed as your fingers dug into his silk pajamas for leverage. From this distance, you could see how haggard he truly was. Purple lined the underside of his eyes, making them look swollen and bruised. His skin was pale, almost translucent, and his cheekbones more prominent than you remembered them to be. When had he last had a proper meal? You suspected that he hadn’t been taking care of himself, no matter what he tried to make you believe. Whenever he got into that serious headspace of his, nothing else mattered but his work—not food, not sleep, and certainly not you.

Cold hands inching up your back interrupted your train of thought. You had been so touch-deprived that any amount of attention directed your way made your body vibrate with ill-concealed excitement.

“I’m sorry if I’ve been neglecting you. Things right now are...” He exhaled sharply, his shoulders slouching under the weight of his worries. “Work has been keeping me busy, that’s for sure. I’m afraid I can’t do much about that. I promise I’ll make it up to you in a few days, once this blows over and we secure our terms.”

“You’ve been so stressed,” you remarked as your own hands wandered up his arms and shoulders. His lean muscles were unnaturally tense under your touch. It had been so long since you had touched him properly that the planes of his body felt like unfamiliar territory.

When he didn’t move away or show any signs of protest, you leaned in to press your lips against his. The kiss was slow, your mouth melting against his like snow falling on a furnace. 

The silky material of his clothes facilitated the glide of your hands down his chest. But before you could reach any lower, Yoongi grabbed you by the wrists, effectively halting your movements.

“Not tonight,” he whispered roughly against your lips, short of breath. 

“When?” You hated how whiny and petulant the question made you sound, but you couldn’t help it. 

“Shall I pencil in an appointment, then?” he humored. “Would you honestly be happier I gave you a time, place and date?” 

“Not really, but I’ll take it.”

“Is sex really the only thing that matters to you?” he asked, half fond, half exasperated. 

“It’s your fault for marrying a slut. You should’ve known what you were signing up for.”

You shared a smile. For once nothing felt awkward or strained. You tried to cherish the moment while it lasted.

Yoongi’s expression eventually morphed into the apologetic one you had grown accustomed to seeing recently. You tried not to let your stomach sink in disappointment, already anticipating his rejection before he could voice it.

“I’m sorry, I’m just not in the mood. You know I can’t focus when there’s so much going on at work.”

“You won’t even need to do anything!” you tried despite knowing that your chances of convincing him were slim. “I’ll top and do all the work.”

“If that’s the case, can’t you just use a sex toy?" Yoongi rolled his eyes. “What’s my use if I’m just going to lay there and take it like a starfish?”

“Did you think I wasn’t using a sex toy all this time? I have a high sex drive... I wasn’t going to just sit around and not take care of myself.”

“Then what’s the problem? It doesn’t matter how you get your pleasure. I’m not one of those men who get weird over their partners using toys. It won’t be a blow to my pride, or whatever.”

“It’s not enough, okay?! I need your cock filling me up, fucking me into the mattress. Every time I cum on my own, it’s not enough.”

“I said no.” He sighed. “Look, it doesn’t matter to me how you deal with it but I can’t take care of it.”

“Take care of it? Is having sex with me a chore or something? Jesus.” You pushed him away with an annoyed expression. Yoongi’s hands dropped from your waist, not putting up much of a fight when you left the seat of his lap.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” he said ever so patiently, almost like he was talking to a child.

You huffed, scooting further away from him. It didn’t escape your notice that he made no effort to close the physical distance separating the two of you, his hands laying limp at his side.

“So you’re saying you don’t care how I get myself off? You wouldn’t say anything? Not even if I went and got myself a real cock to fulfill my needs?”

Yoongi raised his brows, the insinuation taking him by surprise. Clearly he’d underestimated your level of desperation. You watched his face closely, hoping to decipher what was running through his mind. Unfortunately, you couldn’t tell if the tightness in his features hid displeasure or interest.

His lips were drawn into a thin line as he mulled the proposition over. After a moment of silence, he said in an even tone, “Go ahead, if that’s what you want.”

What.

You hadn’t actually expected him to agree. Turn you over and spank you for suggesting something so outrageous. Get angry for pushing an issue he wanted to drop. But not... You didn’t think that he’d actually be okay with it. Did that mean that he had stopped cari—?

Before you had the chance to finish that thought, he continued on, the dark of his pupils pulsing, “You know that I’ll never deny you. Everything you want is yours. That is my promise to you.”

You opened your mouth to contest but he beat you to it. 

“Whether it’s my cock you need, or another’s. So be it—if that’s all it takes for my needy wife to be satisfied.” A slow smirk pulled at the right side of his mouth. When he spoke, it was gruff and laced with arousal. “You can try to find all the substitutes in the world, but you know that the only one capable of giving you the pleasure you crave so deeply is me.”

Ribbons of heat immediately curled in the pit of your stomach. Dimly, you thought how unfair your dynamic with Yoongi was—all he needed to do was snap his fingers and you’d happily spread open your legs for him. You had always been eager to please him, but you had to admit that the time spent away from him hadn’t fixed such matters.

His hand reached out to trace the outline of your lips. You didn’t dare breathe as the touch of his fingertips lingered, the ghost of a promise making your heart jump in anticipation. Your lips parted in silent invitation, giving him permission to ruin you.

He leaned in so that his breath caressed your skin, the gentle whisper carrying a dark undertone.

“So be patient, darling—or I’ll give you nothing.”

Whether this was a promise or a threat, you were left unsure.

.

.

{MONDAY; 11:19 am}

.

This was a bad idea. A Very Bad Idea.

But bad ideas had never been enough to stop you from getting what you wanted in the past. You called it determination. Some people would disagree with the sentiment but when had their opinions mattered?

Two weeks ago, you wouldn’t have considered going through with this. But your last conversation with Yoongi had been the final push you needed.

Your face broke into a scowl as you remembered his parting words. The infuriating part was what had been written all over his face—the haughty certainty that you’d never rise to the challenge he had issued. That was what had ticked you off the most. You hated losing, but you hated being underestimated and easily dismissed as a non-threat even more. And Yoongi? He knew that about you—and had used it to his advantage.

The question was…could you go through with it? You had never dared to go this far in the past. 

In truth, you hadn’t even considered it. The only person you were interested in was Yoongi. It didn’t matter if other men were closer to your age, richer, brawnier, or more traditionally handsome. The only one you wanted was Yoongi. That would always be your constant variable.

So why were you out here in this gross heat, instead of inside the comfort of your house?

Beads of sweat accumulated near your hairline and dripped down your neck. You resisted the urge to grimace. There was nothing you hated more than sweating in a context that wasn’t good sex or a pilates class. 

Not that your sacrifices mattered anyway—you knew for a fact that Taehyung hadn’t spared you a second glance since he had gotten to work.

You risked a peep over the latest issue of Vogue you had been pretending to read, your sight zeroing on the person in charge of cleaning your pool for the day. He was ridiculously handsome, with strong, defined features and a lithe build, and had this habit of sticking out his tongue whenever he was particularly focused on a task.

Kim Taehyung was maybe a little too absorbed in his work. Was it normal to be this hardworking? Not that you would know what the norm was—you had never worked a day in your life whereas your husband took his job way too seriously. Judging by what you had witnessed in the last hour, you were inclined to believe that being unhealthily dedicated to your work was the norm. The poor kid had yet to take a water break.

You hid a sigh by sipping your fruit smoothie. 

In theory, porn made seducing the pool boy seem like an easy and achievable task—but the truth was that you had no idea how to go about it. It was a shame the clichéd porn scenarios hadn’t covered what to do in case the pool boy in question failed to acknowledge your presence altogether. 

He had worked nonstop since he had arrived, barely looking up from his crouched position near the edge of the pool, too busy fishing out floating leaves and dried flower petals with the help of a skimmer.

You looked down at your bathing suit just to check that your cleavage was still on obvious display.

It had been a long time since you had to work for someone’s attention that wasn’t Yoongi’s. Were you rusty? Or had you really become that undesirable? It didn’t seem to matter that you were wearing a risque bathing suit. You might as well have been a potted plant.

Taehyung had the defense of a wall of steel. It didn’t matter what tricks you resorted to catch his eye—he never budged an inch. Even when you stretched your limbs, nylon straining to keep your decency in tact, Taehyung didn’t bat an eye. 

Needless to say, it was a huge blow to your pride.

Glad that no one else was around to witness your embarrassing attempts, you nonetheless wished to erase your existence from this earth. You gripped the sides of the magazine tighter to cover the entirety of your face and prayed for his shift to end soon.

“I could have been naked and he wouldn’t have noticed,” you despaired the next day, pressing the phone closer to your ear. 

“Maybe he just prefers dicks?” Euna tried to comfort. “Or... You know... Maybe he values his job and doesn’t want to get fired for sexual harassment.”

“I wasn’t—” You spluttered. “I’m just saying he wasn’t looking. The plants were more interesting than me! He just... I can’t believe I got bested by fucking weeds.”

“Tough luck. You shouldn’t get sulky because someone would rather work than bone you.” She paused, perhaps realizing how deep rooted your insecurity was. “Relax. It’s not the end of the world! He’s just one guy, they’re not all like that! You’re not the problem here. Sometimes guys... They need you to be more direct. They don’t understand subtle. Like, you just have to go for it. Batting your eyelashes and showing some sideboob isn’t going to suffice.”

“What do you mean go for it?” Your nose wrinkled in disdain. Yes, you were dick deprived, but not to the point that you’d jump on the nearest available dick like some savage.

“Haven’t you ever watched porn?”

“I’d rather die than deepthroat a popsicle.”

“Oh please. Like you haven’t done worse than that. ” You could hear the eye roll that accompanied her comment. “I’m telling you that men are thick in the head and sometimes need you to spell it out for them, letter by letter, word by word. None of that coy shit. The only ones that fall for that are men like your husband.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” 

“Hmph. He has the emotional range of a pea—”

“You’ve only talked to him three times in your life?”

“—so it’s surprising how well the two of you get along, all things considered. Though I suppose if anyone’s gonna get an emotionally constipated person to confess their feelings, it’s you.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Did you think I was complimenting you? Oh - I gotta go now, Mom needs me in the kitchen. I’ll call you back tonight!”

“Can’t. I have T&S’s premiere launch event to attend.”

“Oh fine. Good luck, then. Get that dick! Wh— Yeah, it’s your other daughter. Oh fine. Yes, I’ll let her know.” Euna turned her attention back to you and let out a small noise of exasperation. “Mom says she’s happy to hear you and Yoongi are doing well. She’s wondering when you’ll share some, um, good news with her.”

Her words were laden with meaning. You didn’t need her to elaborate any further, having already been roped into the same conversation countless times before.

Somewhere in the background, you could hear your mother yell get that dick! with all the aggressiveness of a cheerleader during the last five minutes of a game.

Ignoring her was the wisest move. You hurriedly bid her goodbye, eager to end the call, knowing that if you didn’t you’d have to be subjected to another hour of your mother’s ceaseless nagging. And—ugh. You had other pressing matters on your hands.

Like, for one, getting that dick.

.

.

{WEDNESDAY. 11.45 am}

.

Getting dick was—surprisingly—not an easy feat. College!you would be crying if she saw how much you were currently struggling.

Your busy husband remained unswayed, no matter how often you tempted him to yield. 

That only left you with so many options, the next one being: OSTPB — Operation Seduce the Pool Boy. 

...Although that option wasn’t proving to be as fruitful as you had hoped.

Where had it all go wrong? You would have thought that your pride was enough to overwrite any subsequent embarrassment. Even if your self-esteem suffered as a consequence of your actions, you had been determined to see this through. 

Never in your wildest dreams had you imagined failing for a second time—but such had been your fate.

A glower broke out across your face, tiny creases forming between your groomed brows. Your most recent non-success had gone spectacularly awry and every time you thought back to what had happened, your stomach turned over in mortification.

Unlike Taehyung, Kim Namjoon had seen you coming from a mile away. His sharp stare had pierced straight through you, uncovering all of your secrets with the force of his gaze alone. It had taken one look at your scantily-clad body for him to correctly assess the situation and act accordingly.

Somehow that had made his disinterest all the more disheartening and humiliating. The experience forced you see your situation in a different light. You couldn’t help but pity yourself a little. A married woman throwing herself at any handsome man that came her way? That was pathetic, even by your standards.

Maybe you were better off calling the whole thing off. At least, that’s what you convinced yourself. You hadn’t counted on a third opportunity to present itself.

“Bad day?” 

“That obvious?”

Hoseok smiled. “I’d say so, yeah. You’re drinking before lunch. That’s never a good sign.”

He had a point.

Crinkling your nose, you explained, “I had to attend a baby shower this morning... It’s the third one this month! Honestly. What is it, mating season?” To you, it all served as one big reminder that everyone was getting it on except for you—which naturally put you in the brightest mood.

“Then why bother going? I’m sure you could find other activities to do instead.”

“Free Dom Perignon,” was your automatic answer, albeit not a truthful one. Hoseok cracked a smile.

“I wouldn’t have thought that to be a problem...” He eyed the flute of sparkling champagne you were currently nursing.

“It’s the principle. But... You’re right. They’re always such a chore. And I could definitely pass up on Sohee’s constant nagging. God, she never shuts up. Especially after starting on the champagne. Fucking lightweight,” you glowered, lipstick stained mouth thinning into a straight line. “All she ever does is gloat and provoke me. Whatever. She’s just mad the man she got married to is nearing 60 and balding. I’d be mad, too.” 

Hoseok laughed. It tumbled out of his parted mouth, loud, unrestrained, and so unlike the artificial pleasantries you had been subjected to all morning. The sound was clear and infectious, ringing through the summer air like wind chimes. 

You gulped down the remnants of champagne, the golden bubbles sliding down your throat smoothly. It wasn’t your first flute of the day. By now, the alcohol was flowing pleasantly through your bloodstream, warming your skin to a glow. The muscles on your face relaxed.

“But think of all the free fancy ass booze and food you’d be missing out on. If you hate the others so much, just go sit in a corner and eat your truffle hors d’oeuvres and caviar canapés in peace.” 

“If only I could,” you said, followed by a very dramatic eye roll. “I’ve got an image to keep up, you know. The gossiping crones already see me as some dumb bimbo who whored herself out to land a nice, rich, young husband.” You tried to keep your voice light and airy, but shades of bitterness could be heard despite your best efforts. 

Your marriage with Yoongi had caused quite the stir... Even now, a good year after the wedding, people still had your name on their lips, tainting it with disdain.

What bothered you was that they thought Yoongi was easy. Did they think all it took was a nice rack and a tight ass to win him over? Sometimes you wished your husband only thought with his dick—it would make things a lot easier for you, that was for sure—but that wasn’t the kind of man he was. And at the end of the day, that wasn’t the kind of man you wanted him to be, either.

“Ah, come on, it can’t be that bad.” Hoseok’s lazy smile drooped. You turned your face away, hating the sympathy you could see in his eyes. You didn’t need to be pitied. Annoyance made you take another sip.

The smart move would be to agree and end that particular discussion with a swift conversation change. It was what you were used to doing. 

But an invisible force stopped the words from shaping. Later on, you’d blame it on the liquor in your veins muddling your judgment and the sweltering summer heat making you dizzy. Instead of the prepared answers you were used to dishing out, your genuine emotions bubbled to the surface before you could filter them—and once you got started, it was impossible to stop. 

“It is. I’ve heard them. They’re not discreet, nor do they want to be.” You adjusted the sunglasses perched on your nose bridge, glad you had something to hinder Hoseok’s attentive gaze. He was too observant for his own good. “They’re always equally surprised and disappointed when they learn Yoongi hasn’t filed for divorce and put himself back on the market. Sohee’s only two years younger than me but she keeps asking me for tips.”

“Tips?”

“Yes...” To your chagrin, you found that the flute of champagne was empty so you set it down. “She always rubs her age in my face as if a two year age gap is that big of a deal. Hmph. According to her, the only reason Yoongi would stay with me for so long is because of my evil feminine wiles.”

“Didn’t you say she has a husband? Why does she care what you do with Mr. Min?”

“Yeah, well, joke’s on them because I don’t do anything.” Something sour ruined your expression. At least your Gucci shades gave you something to hide behind. “Not for lack of trying, anyway,” you added bitterly.

Hoseok tilted his head to the side, his expression one of polite confusion.

“...You don’t do anything?” he parroted, trying to make sense of the words. It was the first time hearing you profess yourself so frankly, without pretense or filter.  

“I don’t want to spell it out for you,” you grumbled, not daring to meet his eyes. You were pathetic as it was... No need to make yourself look even worse. As if you needed Hoseok pitying your nonexistent sex life on top of everything else.

There was a moment of silence, only broken by the sound of birds chirping and the distant sound of your neighbor’s dog barking. You let your eyelids flutter close, feeling a strange sensation of calm wash over your body.

Admittedly, getting your inner frustrations off your chest had been relieving, in a way. It had been nice to have someone listen to you rant, even for a moment. Talking with Hoseok was a nice change from the stilted and repetitive conversations you had during your obligatory social run-ins with other housewives. 

Speaking of Hoseok, you didn’t need to open your eyes to know that he had probably gone back to finish his job, not knowing what to say without making it awkward or crossing boundaries. You didn’t have the heart to open your eyes and check. As long as your eyes were closed, it was easier to maintain the illusion of peace you had found momentary refuge in. 

The sound of quiet rustling made you crack open an eye. Surprise had you opening both. While you had been stuck in your inner musings, Hoseok had gotten up from where he had been sitting to plop down next to you. 

You didn’t dare move. Not only because the abrupt move had caught you off guard, but you were worried that if you tried to squirm away to give him more room, you’d topple off and hit the ground. The chaise lounge was too narrow to comfortably accommodate two people but somehow it worked. When he adjusted his sitting position, the material of his swim trunks brush your outer thighs. Hoseok was so close that you felt the heat radiating off his body.

He reached over, grabbing a bottle of tanning lotion you had set down next to a pile of magazines. As he looked up, he saw your wide eyes and hastened to explain, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look really stressed.”

No shit, you wanted to snark but he cut you off before you had the chance.

“You should let me,” Hoseok suggested while shaking the bottle in his hand. “I’m pretty good at working out knots. I don’t have a certificate or anything, but—my body gets really tense after dance class, and sometimes I don’t have the time or money to go to a salon. I’ve read books and watched a lot of YouTube videos, which, I can understand may not sound very convincing but trust me, I know what I’m doing.  Of course, doing it to yourself is fine, too, but it’s a lot more effective when someone else takes care of it.”

All you could do was stare. The bout of silence was enough to make him lose a bit of confidence, and he sent you a sheepish smile. 

“I mean, it’s up to you. I’m definitely not as good as the pros but I’m not terrible, either. Some even say my massages are better than orgasms.” The sudden grin he sported was so wide that you couldn’t tell if he was exaggerating or not. “I just figured… I can’t guarantee a 100% success rate but I’ll do this free of charge, so that’s something to consider. This is a limited time offer.”

“You know I’m not one to turn down freebies,” you said through a smile, not taking as long as you should have to consider his proposition. Maybe you should have thought harder about the implications but right now his offer seemed too good to pass up. A massage that was better than nutting? Sold. “Should I…?”

“Yeah, why don’t you roll around onto your stomach for me? I can start on your back,” Hoseok said while he uncapped the bottle and squirted a dollop of tanning lotion onto his palm. He rubbed his hands together, warming up the liquid, before pressing the pads of his fingers into the meat of your shoulders. 

“This okay?” he asked as he hovered above you. “It’s better when I use scented oils like lavender but this will have to do. I didn’t bring any of my usual stuff with me.”

“Mhmm.” His voice sounded far away already. “It’s good.”

His hands covered every inch of your skin, slow in their study. Slender digits alternated between rubbing circles and squeezing flesh. From time to time, flashes of pain spread across your back as he worked on your muscles. The soreness melted away just as quickly; Hoseok seemed to know just how much pressure to exert for you to go boneless in his grip.

Slowly, you felt yourself relax under his ministrations, your head drooping further into the cushion as he worked his magic on you. You had to bite your lip to prevent any embarrassing sounds from filtering out whenever his strong hands kneaded a particularly sore spot. It felt so good that you were convinced Hoseok had been a professional masseur in his past life. Not even the ladies at the spa you regularly frequented could get you to unwind this efficiently. If you could stay in this blissed out state forever, you would. 

You heard him saying something about what pressure point he was massaging but his voice came out muffled, as if a thick stone wall was separating the two of you. His words had been tuned out the moment his hands had drifted lower to work on the bottom of your spine. Nothing else mattered but the firm press of his fingers against your heated skin made easy thanks to the slickness of the tanning lotion. 

Slightly dazed, it took a moment to register that Hoseok was repeating your name in an attempt to grab your attention.

“Is it alright with you if I untie this?” His voice was warm and syrupy like molasses. You had the strangest desire to bathe in it.

You nodded your assent, breath hitching as you felt his long digits work on the knot of your bathing suit. He seemed to hesitate for a moment before finally pulling the strings apart.

The tension in the air was palpable. All pretense of a simple and friendly massage having been thrown out the window the moment he had asked to remove your clothes. After all, there had been no sound and logical reason to—it wasn’t as if the thin piece of fabric tied at your back had hindered his movements in any way or obstructed his work. 

Hoseok had asked for your permission to go further and you had given it to him without a second thought.

“Is this okay? Do you want me to stop?” He waited for your verbal confirmation to continue. His fingers had stilled, no longer working your skin like dough. On one hand you were thankful for him giving you ample time to back out, but on the other hand...

Now that you had been given a preview of what he was capable of doing, how did he expect you to turn him down? Maybe that had been his plan from the start—wind you up to your breaking point until you had no choice but to beg and plead. 

The top of your bikini slid off your body as you propped yourself up on your elbows. You had to crane your neck to throw him a look over your shoulder, your hair cascading down the arch of your back as you did so, but the slight discomfort was well worth it. 

The rough pads of Hoseok’s fingertips dug into the divots of your waist. To keep you still, maybe. But you could tell by the clench of his jaw that he was holding himself back. 

A sudden surge of power coursed through you. Speeding, top down on the highway and riding twisting rollercoasters...none of these came close to giving you the same high that surged through you when you were wanted, coveted, and lusted after. There was nothing more empowering than knowing your presence made men weak in the knees.

“It’s okay if it’s you, Hoseok.” You batted your lashes and let a slow smile spread across your face. 

It was an enticing invitation, one that Hoseok had no heart to refuse. He raised a tentative hand towards the scruff of your neck, letting his weight rest there as if testing the waters. When he saw that you weren’t going to retract your words or shy away from his touch, he let his palm drag down your bare back. 

There was no way that he didn’t notice the way goosebumps littered the skin he touched, the way you trembled with want. 

There was no reason to be nervous, you thought as his fingers danced on your skin. The words spoken to yourself weren’t intended to reassure—you were stating facts. Hoseok was safe and secure. You knew that if you wanted to put an end to everything right now, he’d do so without complaint.

As if reading your mind, he smiled in promise, “I’ll take good care of you. Why don’t you turn around. Let me see all of you.” He nudged you, fingers stopping short of your pale blue bikini bottoms. 

Hoseok tensed when you twisted around to lay comfortably on your back. Although he had been the one to suggest it, the sight of you topless momentarily robbed him of speech.  

“You’re so goddamn beautiful.” Awe colored his tone. His eyes mirrored the sentiment, wide with wonder.

He squeezed more lotion into the palm of his hands and wasted no time reaching for the dip of your waist. Warm hands slid up your sides, tickling your ribcage as they reached higher and higher. 

A shaky breath left your lips when he finally enclosed his hands around the globes of your breasts and gently squeezed. 

Desire lit a fire in the pit of your belly.

There was something undeniably sexy about having to face him while his hands freely roamed your body. When your head had been nestled in the crook of your arms, it had been easy to let your mind drift away. But your current position now made that impossible.

Hoseok’s presence was overwhelming. All you saw was him—the fiery depths of his eyes, the pretty slope of his nose, his fucking arms, and the way his long fingers were currently cupping your breasts, his thumbs rubbing the peaks insistently until they ached. The upward tug of his lips told you that he was well aware of how well he was affecting you.

“Good?” It was a rhetorical question. You were putty in his hands, as pliant and malleable as a ball of clay.

He readjusted himself between your legs and used his knees to keep your thighs spread open for him. A whine worked its way up your throat. Much to your frustration, his new position prevented you from rubbing your legs together and getting the friction you so desperately needed.

Your lower lips felt uncomfortably wet, and by the way Hoseok ran his tongue over his lips like a famished wolf in front of a long-awaited meal, you knew your arousal to be evident. By now the expensive piece of swimwear was surely stained with your juices.

Hoseok’s hands had wandered back down your body, digits now tracing your hipbones, while his gaze resolutely fixed the spot between your legs. For a reason unknown to you, he didn’t dare go any further than slip his thumbs beneath the material of your swimming suit.

Exasperation built up inside of you the longer the teasing went on. You didn’t know what he was waiting for. It was clear that he wanted it as badly as you did—if the tent in his swim shorts was any indication—so what was holding him back? How long were you going to keep staring at each other before the weakest died of blue balls?

So you did what any woman of action would have done and pulled at the strings holding up your bikini bottoms. Two quick, efficient tugs later and you were stark naked, bare as the day you were born.

Hoseok’s eyes bugged out. 

To your dismay, your forwardness failed to have the desired effect. Instead of urging him into action, all he did was freeze up.  In fact you feared that you had broken him—his mouth opened and closed once, twice, three times, but no sound came out.

“Do you need a hand written invitation?” At this point, you were running out of options. God, what did it take to get fucked around here? Like. Bless thee who invented dildos because without them you would have lost your mind a long time ago.

Finally he shook his head, hands reaching down to grip your thighs. His tongue poked out to lick his lips. “You’re something else...” 

“In a good or bad way?” you asked, the hitch in your breath audible. His hands hands had inched dangerously close to where you wanted him to touch the most.

His lips quirked into a grin. “I’ve never seen someone get this soaked over a small massage. You’re literally perfect.”

Words that should have embarrassed you were balanced out with praise. The mix of the two made your insides tighten. 

“Eager, too.” His grin widened. “That’s how I like them.”

Before you could quip back, he swiped his pointer finger through your slippery folds. The initial touch made your entire body jolt. It had been so long since someone had given you attention that your body ate everything up like it was starved. You couldn’t remember the last time a man had touched you properly, especially one that wasn’t your husband.

The thought of Yoongi only made your heart thump harder against your ribcage. You had no time to dwell on your feelings, however, not when Hoseok added a second digit to the mix. 

His brow was furrowed in concentration. Guys your age had the tendency to rush through their motions, fueled by the need to get off. Sometimes they even skipped foreplay entirely. Hoseok was not like other guys your age. He took his time running his digits through your slick lips, not caring about his own erection straining his shorts.

It didn’t take long for you to get impatient again. You had always had a problem with waiting and being patient—and the last month had seriously tested the limits of your self-restraint. 

Just when you were about to voice your frustration, Hoseok gathered your arousal until his fingers were thoroughly coated with your juices. He honed in on your aching clit with expert precision. Your thighs tensed as you tried your best to keep your hips still and your legs open. 

It didn’t take long for it to feel really good. Better than the expensive bullet vibrator that you had been using religiously for the last few weeks. You were 100% certain that you would have hurled prematurely to your end if Hoseok hadn’t eased up on the pressure, his touch now feather-light and teasing. The abrupt change in pace had you reeling.

You slumped back into the chaise lounge, the back of your head hitting the twined material with a dull plonk. Fate apparently wanted to deprive you of a good orgasm until the very end. That petty bitch.

Hoseok chuckled and you tried not to take offense. You’d like to see him last as long as you had. 

“You’re not relaxed at all.”

“Gee, I wonder why,” you deadpanned.

It was hard to keep the pout on your face when his fingers resumed their ministrations. Your knee jerked when he brushed over a particularly sensitive spot and you had to bite your tongue to keep any moans at bay.

“Ever heard of the saying ‘good things come to those who wait’?”

“I’ve been waiting plenty long!” 

“Is that so?” His tone turned sickly sweet, almost mocking. “Guess I have to reward your good behavior.”

Before you had time to second that thought, he thrust a finger up to the knuckle, the sudden intrusion catching you by surprise. It was like someone had punched the air out of you. Your mouth parted in a silent cry as his finger soon turned to two.

He kept up an easy rhythm, his fingers curving every so often to drag along your inner walls. Every single one of your nerves were on fire. 

Bit by bit, the constant and steady pressure made you unravel. Any control you had over yourself and the situation was slowly slipping through your grasp—but the loss didn’t bother you as much as it normally would have. 

“How does that feel? Shit.” He stifled a groan when he felt you clench around his fingers, no doubt imagining that it was his cock buried inside your warm pussy instead. “Shit, you’re so fucking hot.”

“You’re doing so good,” you panted between two breaths. “I’m, ah, going to cum soon.”

“Already?” he asked, equally surprised and pleased at the admission.

Your words fueled his desire to see you fall apart. His pace picked up, the force of his thrusts making your back arch every time he buried his fingers into your heat. The brush of his fingers against your velvety walls felt so good that you could have cried fat tears of gratitude. Hoseok reached so much deeper than you ever could, stroking places inside of you that you had a hard time reaching on your own.  

Hoseok must have a PhD in fingering, you thought, half-delirious from the amount of pleasure he was giving you.  It had taken him an extraordinarily short amount of time to find and zero in on all your erogenous zones. Just like how he had known which spots to press during the massage, he seemed to be eerily attuned to your body and its needs. Not that you were complaining—far from it actually.

All of your inner ramblings ceased when he squeezed in a third finger, stretching your walls to accommodate the extra digit. You expected it to burn—three fingers was nothing to scoff at, especially ones as long as his. What should have been an uncomfortable experience wasn’t thanks to how fucking wet he had made you. 

He drove his fingers in and out of you, alternating between swift and slow, rough and sweet. The wet squelches were obscene, so loud that you were convinced your neighbors could probably hear you if they tried hard enough.

Distantly, you realized what a shocking pair the two of you made. If your housemaid bothered to look out the window, she’d see you naked and getting fingered by someone who was most definitely not your husband. Now wouldn’t that be scandalous?

The mere thought of Yoongi brought you closer to the edge. Your eyes fell shut of their own accord, images of your husband replacing the ones of Hoseok. Lost in your favorite fantasy, it didn’t take long for you to reach your end. It never did when you started imagining your husband pleasuring you. 

With the memory of Yoongi’s smirk painting the dark of your eyelids, you came, walls contracting around Hoseok’s hand like it was trying to milk cock. Your back arched off the chaise, your entire frame trembling from the force of your overdue orgasm. Spots of white dotted your vision and you had to forcibly blink them away. Only then did you realize that the yells puncturing the air had belonged to you.

“So fucking pretty. How are you so fucking soft? Shit, this is way better than what I imagined.” 

“Think about me a lot?” you asked once your heart had calmed down to an acceptable rate.

You expected him to deny it but to your surprise his concession came easily. “Can’t help it.” He deliberately looked away from your look of wide-eyed curiosity. “You’re… Seriously, you could have anyone.” 

“I’m not sure about that.” You reached for the hand settled on your thigh. It was only when you interlaced fingers that he looked up at you.

There had been a time when you had felt invincible, capable of bewitching any individual of your choosing, no matter the status or experience. It seemed like a lifetime ago. 

But Hoseok spoke with such sincerity that you couldn’t help but eat up his praise. The way he touched you—stroking your body like he was handling an expensive piece of artwork, like you were valuable and untouchable—made you believe him. You wanted to be convinced. 

“I’ll show you, if you’ll let me.” He kept his gaze steady and you found it hard to look away from the intensity burning behind his stare. “Want to make you come on my tongue. Let me take care of you.”

You felt your muscles pull as you spread your legs wider, putting your glistening folds on crude display. Hoseok swallowed thickly and wasted no time diving in, one of his hands maneuvering your lower body until one of your legs hooked over his shoulder, giving him better access to your dripping core.

He leaned in, close enough for you to feel his breath warm your skin. It was the only warning you got before he darted his tongue out, the flat drag of the muscle making your toes curl. 

It was slow, sweet torture. As much as you wanted more, wanted to grind yourself on his face, Hoseok kept a sturdy arm braced over your stomach while the other wrapped tightly around your thigh. You had no other choice but to just take it the way he wanted to give it, completely at his mercy. 

The steady, insistent flicks of his tongue over your clit had you gushing, your hole clenching sporadically in hopes of getting filled up again. You pulled the silky strands of Hoseok’s hair in an attempt to get him to satiate your need for more—but to no avail.

Hoseok refused to speed up, even as he felt your thighs tremble under his hold. If anything, your frustration seemed to amuse him. He chuckled against your clit, the vibrations setting each and every one of your nerve endings on fire.

“Hhn, puh-” you sucked in air. “Shit, I’m so, so close.”

He hummed in encouragement, smile hidden between your folds. 

You knew you were cumming before it actually happened. It started slowly, your toes curling and knee jerking, and then worked its way up your spine. Stars blotted your vision until all you saw was white.

If he hadn’t kept you firmly pinned in place, arm muscles flexing as you resisted, you were sure you would have crushed Hoseok’s head between your thighs. Or accidentally kicked him in the shins. The force of your orgasm was a tangible force, one that knocked the wind out of you like a punch to the gut.

“So good.” He sucked his slender fingers until they came off clean.  

Sitting there between your legs, he looked like the picture perfect definition of debauchery—red lips and chin glistening from your juices, face splotchy in the cheeks,hair mussed up and knotted by your hands.

His eyes didn’t leave yours for a second, even as he licked the last traces of you off his hand. Your core throbbed. There was something undeniably arousing about a man who genuinely enjoyed giving head, who did it because he wanted to and got off on it, not because he felt obligated to or because he wanted something else in exchange. 

“You’re so fucking sweet.” He glanced down and groaned. “I’m so hard, fuck.”

“Do you want me t—”

“No, no, just. Give me a moment.” He palmed himself through his swim trunks but kept his gaze fixed between your legs, his attention unwavering. “I’ve made such a mess of you... Look at your thighs, they’re soaked. And that stain’s going to be impossible to clean off. What are you going to do if someone asks you what happened? It’s way too big to miss.”  

You spread your thighs a bit more, intrigued by the way his hand seemed to press down harder at the visual provided. “What do you want me to tell them? I can’t possibly tell them the truth... If any of the housewives found out how good you are with your hands, they’ll end up stealing you from right under my nose.”

“I don’t care about them,” he dismissed seriously. “Why would I when the sweetest pussy is right here, all swollen and dripping for me.”

Your cum was still slowly trickling out of you. Upon hearing his words, your core clenched and the contraction made a fresh gush of opaque fluid drip down between the crevice of your ass. You resisted the urge to wipe yourself off, knew that the slight discomfort was well worth it if it meant witnessing Hoseok’s unraveling.    

Hoseok was so enraptured by the sight in front of him that he was probably unaware of how deathly attractive he looked at the moment. It wasn’t a trick of the light or an ephemeral thought. Hoseok had always been handsome in your eyes but there was a distinct difference between when he was working and when he was set on giving you the high of your life. You had never been subjected to the brunt of his charisma, but now that you had, you could tell how much control he had over himself. Even now, his sexual energy was focused and restrained. 

His eyesight had zeroed in on your pussy like a hawk sweeping in for its kill. His toned chest rose and fell, drawing attention to the sheen of perspiration lining his muscles. 

“Hoseok.” The neediness in your voice broke him out of his trance. 

When his eyes met yours, you felt your core clench up again. The sight of him shirtless, his lean muscles tensing every time his palm rubbed over the head of his erection through the material of his trunks, was enough to get you aroused all over again despite your recent orgasm. 

“Please cum on me,” you asked sweetly.

He groaned in response, the sound low and guttural in his throat. 

You hadn’t thought it possible, but his eyes darkened, black pupils swallowing up the brown of his irises until there was nothing left but raw arousal. 

“Yeah? You’d let me?” He shifted onto his haunches and hastily tugged down his shorts low enough to relieve his aching member from the confines of the fabric. His red cock stood stiff, the tip leaking pearly precum everywhere.  

A pleased smile stretched across your face. By the looks of it, he had been hard for a while.

The thought made something in your stomach curl pleasantly. You had done that, not anyone else. That alone was enough to spread heat throughout your body.

“I want you to cum all over me.”

“Fuck, when you talk like that I want to give you everything.” Hoseok held up a hand to your mouth and ordered in a gruff voice, “Spit.”

Doing as he commanded, you gathered as much saliva as you could and let it pool into his cupped palm. He muttered quick praise and wasted no time slicking up his length with your spit—not that it was needed.

It didn’t take long for him to cum.

“Where do you want it?” he asked between gritted teeth. Not once did his pace falter or slow down as he raced toward his end.

“Right here.” You didn’t need to think twice about it, your hand already reaching between your legs to open yourself up for him.

He growled as cum painted your inner thighs white. His hand stroked him through his orgasm, not stopping until he was certain he had nothing left to give you.  

When Hoseok hunched forward to slot his mouth over yours, lips tasting of you, there was no mistaking the victorious smile adorning your face.

 .

{FRIDAY. 10.21 am}

.

Something in the air had changed.

It felt like the world had tilted on its axis and the stars had realigned themselves in the sky. It was like getting your contact lens prescription strengthened—the world just looked different.

Your midday tryst with Hoseok had been the catalyst behind it all.

The reverence illuminating Hoseok’s eyes as he watched you come apart was still fresh on your mind. It filled you with bubbly giddiness. And that feeling—that swarming of butterflies in your stomach—was undoubtedly an improvement from the paralyzing numbness you had grown accustomed to over the last few months.

For the first time in a while, you had been able to sleep soundly. The results of a good night’s sleep were perceptible to the naked eye. Your skin was dewy and radiant, clear of the usual imperfections brought on by anxiety and exhaustion.

“You look well this morning,” had complimented June as she filled your empty glass with freshly pressed orange juice. You had hummed around a bite of gluten free toast, pleased with yourself.

Your good mood lasted all throughout the morning. It was Wednesday, you realized.

There was a bounce in your step when you realized what day it was and who you’d inevitably be seeing. Even though it hadn’t been that long, time tricked you into believing eons had passed since your last encounter. So much seemed to have changed since then.

You didn’t feel like the same person, for one. There was no more awkward fumbling or nervous lip biting, no sudden urge to cover your scantily exposed body with a bathing gown. 

The confident stride towards the pool’s edge felt less like an act. When you sat down at the ledge, dipping your ankles into the lukewarm water, you didn’t feel like some kind of fraud. You were no longer trying to emulate the person you had once been—you were that person. It had just taken a while to find her again.

Jimin rose to his feet. He had been changing the water filter before your arrival had made him halt mid-activity. 

For now you didn’t pay him any mind. You stretched your neck to the side, soaking up the summer sun. You were sure that you would have painted a much more seductive picture if your ass didn’t feel like it was on fire. Literally.

The stony edge of the pool was too hot, bordering on burning. You wriggled around, hoping you’d eventually adjust to the heat but in the end couldn’t handle it.

You slid in, water splashing around you as you submerged yourself. The water barely came up to your chest, which was probably for the best because your makeup wasn’t waterproof. And runny mascara? Not your best look.

When you looked up, Jimin’s unimpressed stare met you head on.

And, granted, choosing to go for a swim while he was cleaning the pool was not the smartest or most logical feat.

You weren’t here to swim, though. And Jimin knew it, too.

Jimin didn’t shy away from your gaze. On the contrary—he seemed to enjoy the scrutiny, preening. Your shameless admiration did nothing but stroke his already well inflated ego. 

He raised his brow in your direction, half-expecting you to run away again. It felt like a challenge—one you were more than happy to take on. 

In truth, you had been waiting for this opportunity. 

Jimin didn’t disappoint. With a splash, he dived in and swam to your section. He stopped just short of you, close enough to clearly see the water trickling down his body in rivulets. 

“Is this a hobby of yours?”

“Hm? What is?” He flicked his wet bangs to the side.

“Seducing married women.”

The smile he wore told you that he found your question amusing. “...Have I seduced you?”

His remark wasn’t enough to deter you. By now, you had gotten used to his teasing and it was getting easier to ignore his attempts at winding you up.

“Why do you do it? I’m sure you could have any young and pretty thing lining up to date you.” You genuinely wanted to know. Ever since you had met him and he had made his intentions clear as day, you had wondered why he’d ever bother chasing married women. What did he expect from it? Love? Money? Was this just something to pass the time? Or was this a way to prove his sexual prowess and attractiveness?

Life had taught you that nothing in the world came for free. There was always a price to be paid. Jimin seemed to have that lesson ingrained in him as well. It was in the way he carried himself with confidence, the way he knew exactly what he wanted and how to get it.

In many ways, Jimin reminded you of yourself—or the self that had existed before your insecurities had made your outer layer crumble.

“You’re right,” he agreed. “But I’m not interested in dating any pretty, young thing. To be frank… Dating holds no interest for me. I’m not that kind of guy.”

“You’re just looking to wet your dick,” you translated. 

“If I wanted to ‘wet my dick’,” he quoted with a roll of his eyes, “I could get that on campus. It’s not that hard to get laid when you look like I do.”

“Maybe you have a preference for cougars?”

“I’m serious. You of all people must know that relationships are about giving and taking. Compromise. I know what I can offer and what I’m willing to give up and none of those things people want.”    

The honesty in his voice made you pause. You couldn’t claim to understand what he meant—because you didn’t. If he didn’t want sex and if he didn’t want a relationship, what did that leave? If it hadn’t been for the truth coloring his tone, you would have called him out for his bullshit.

“Seduce… I guess you could call it that... But it’s not as bad as you probably think it is.” His plush lips pressed into a thin line. “There’s no trickery to it. Every single person I get involved with knows what they’re getting into. I tell them what I’m willing to offer and they name their price. It’s a fair exchange, don’t you think?”

It took a moment for his words to sink in. You blinked in realization. “You’re saying you’re in this for the money?”

Jimin was quick to correct you. “It’s not always money. Apparently they think it’s crass to give cold hard cash, they think it diminishes my worth or something along those lines.” He smiled and shrugged. Your eyes strayed to the curve of his collarbones. “Personally I don’t mind either way. Gifts are gifts.”

Looking at him now, you could picture it. He was young and attractive, willing to entertain bored and unsatisfied housewives while their negligent husbands failed to keep them happy. You could see why they’d be enthusiastic to take him up on the offer—Park Jimin was charming in a way that made you hang onto his every word. It was the way he carried himself, the way he talked, the way he looked at you. He was hard to resist and he knew it.

“Sometimes it’s not even sexual,” he went on to explain. “I think… Some of them… They just seemed... Not sad. But, like. Lonely, you know? And some of them… Sometimes I don’t really do anything, nothing that crosses lines, nothing that would get my dick chopped off if their husband watched the CCTV footage. Really, what I do is not as salacious as you’re imagining… Most of it is quite tame.”

“Tame?” Jimin didn’t fit the definition of tame by a long shot. Your eyebrows scrunched up together, skepticism etched deeply onto your expression.

“Well. I’m hot,” Jimin stated, serious. “So that already takes care of half of it.”

You laughed, silently wondering how it was possible for a person to be so shameless. Although you supposed you weren’t one to talk. You were as vain as they came. It was just shocking to see someone not even try to fake modesty. The near perpetual smirk on his face would be insufferable on anyone else, but Jimin made it work in his favor.

“I don’t do anything special. Well, okay. Maybe I make a show out of cleaning the pool, but that’s about it.” 

He glanced down at his choice of swimwear and you eventually caught on to what was insinuated. Much like the ones he had on during your last encounter, his swimwear seemed to be a size too small for him, hugging his thick thighs and putting his impressive muscles on display. Even the chastest person on the planet would have difficulty abstaining from ogling his build. Thirsty housewives wouldn’t stand a chance.

A half-naked, attractive man doing manual work? “I can see what you mean,” you agreed. “I don’t doubt your popularity among the married crowd.”

“Oh?” He tilted his chin so that he could stare at you through wet lashes. The water droplets gave the illusion that his eyes were framed by minuscule crystals. When he blinked, you couldn’t look away, spellbound. “Are you including yourself?”

Something in your expression made the shade of his irises burn to black, the heat in his eyes as smothering as burning hot coals. Your already unstable heart found it hard to function. It knocked loudly against your chest and you were afraid it would burst from the force of it.

As a last ditch effort to regain control of the situation, you hurriedly asked, “Do you have anything off limits? Or are you okay with doing anything?”

The string of questions broke the oppressing sexual tension that had threatened to consume you. His alluring expression shifted back to a neutral one.

“Depends on the person,” he answered after thinking it over, serious once again. “I can’t fake arousal. I’m either hard or I’m not, you know?” 

“You’ve had sex with some of them before though, have you?”

“Yeah.” It was an easy admission. Jimin wasn’t boasting but he wasn’t ashamed of his past deeds either. “Not often and never off the bat, but yes. Can’t say that I haven’t.”

“Inside or outside the house?”

“Once inside the gardening shed, against the door. Wouldn’t recommend unless you fancy a trip to the hospital to remove all the splinters on your back. I’ve also done it in the bed they shared with their husband. That was...something.” The way he said it made it sound like the understatement of the century. 

Before you could press, he continued, “Sex isn’t really something I’m up for all the time though. I’ve learned the hard way that it’s easy to let things get out of control...” A grimace, a pause, and then, “It’s easy for people to get confused. Feelings can develop and that’s... I’d rather avoid those complications if I can. There’s nothing fun about making women cry.”

It sounded like a warning.

You wondered how many times he had to reiterate his stance, how many times he had to draw lines and keep them clear to avoid breaking hearts. You wondered how much of his story was laced with truth and how much of it was twisted to deceive you.

How many before you had been presented with the same backstory? How many of them had let themselves be tempted by his proposition? It seemed like a good deal, after all. Who would be willing to refuse such a irresistible offer? You could only imagine how excited they had been at the prospect of having their appetite sated by such a young and handsome man.

You had never been under the illusion that your liaison would evolve into a whirlwind romance worthy of the greatest love songs. Unlike the countless others who had eagerly emptied out their purses just to get a taste of him, you had no plans on taming his wild heart. His love, his feelings—they weren’t what you were after. 

“What’s something you’ve never done before?” you dared to ask, angling your head to peer up at him through your lashes. It was a good angle, one you knew from experience that worked.

“Never done? Well, let’s see...” He scratched the back of his neck. “I’ve never kissed any of them. Properly, on the mouth.”

Your brow raised. You hadn’t expected that answer. Kissing did seem tame in comparison to the exploits he had previously listed. “How come?” 

“It gets too personal, I guess.” Jimin refrained from elaborating any further. Not that he needed to—you could tell from the way he skirted around the question that kissing meant more to him than he would rather let on.  

Immediately, you knew what you wanted. 

“You said that you’d give me anything I ask for.”

Jimin wasn’t dumb; he quickly caught on.

“You want me to kiss you.” He tilted his head, a strange glint in his eyes. They flickered down to your mouth for the briefest of moments.

Your heart raced. A wary expression had crossed his face. Like he was finally seeing you differently—not as another conquest who would eat out of his hand and bend over backwards just to spend some time by his side, but acknowledging you as an equal who set her own terms and played by her own rules. A player, not a pawn.

Soon, the cautious attitude was replaced with excitement. Like the idea of playing a new game excited him.

"And what do I get in return?"

You blinked. Of course. It had been silly of you to think he'd give it up for free.

"What do you want?" You hadn't thought very far and your mind raced as it tried to find a suitable method of compensation. Expensive wristwatches, art work...

"I don't want anything you'd be willing to give anyone else." Jimin cut in, interrupting your inner musings. "I want something you'd only be willing to give your husband."

How very specific.

"I don't..." you trailed off, lost in thought. There was no time to question the nature of his request, not when your mind was caught up trying to find something, anything, that fit his criteria.

"I'll blow you."

You wet your lips. It was meant to be seductive but you were too nervous to properly pull it off.

Jimin raised a brow in response. It was impossible to tell if the answer was favorable or not, so you rambled on. "I've never... Since we started dating, the only... I've only been intimate with my husband.”

Until recently, was left unsaid. You weren’t sure if Hoseok counted. Maybe you should rephrase to avoid misunderstandings.

“I’ve never had... I’ve never sucked anyone else off.” There. Now you weren’t lying. “Even before Yoongi and I dated, I never did it that much. Not because—not because I don't enjoy it, but. I've always been more on the receiving end."

"You're a selfish lover," concluded Jimin, nodding in understanding like he hadn’t expected anything less.

You frowned. "I get that it sounds that way, but it's not! Sex doesn’t boil down to oral."

"Oh, I know," he smirked, amusement dancing in his eyes. "I'm intrigued... But who’s to say your oral skills will live up to my standards?"

"As far as I know, no one's left you a 5 star rating for your kissing skills." Huffing, you crossed your arms. In the back of your mind, you knew Jimin was poking fun at you in order to elicit a reaction, but you were too offended to care about how you were playing into his games.

A kiss for a blowjob? If you hadn’t been desperate for the latter, you would have denounced the unfair exchange.

Jimin leaned in, his fingers tilting your chin in the angle he wanted, and studied your face like he was committing your features to memory. He drank in your appearance, down to the flutter of your lashes, the parting of your lips, and the hitch in your breath when he bent his neck to close the distance.

There was something careful about his touch. Unlike the searing intensity behind his gaze, the press of his fingertips against your skin was careful, almost like he was handling glassware. Time seemed to move extremely slowly. He took his time, seemingly content with just cupping your chin between his fingers and admiring you.

For a moment, you thought he'd back out on his offer, not willing to part with the one thing he'd denied the string of conquests who had previously been in your shoes.

When Jimin pressed his lips against yours, you had to fight back the urge to gasp. His earlier demeanor had lulled you into a false sense of security. You had expected him to take his time, kisses gentle and slow-paced. 

There was nothing of the sort—Jimin's kisses were hungry, insistent, and stole the breath out of your lungs with every press of his lips against your own. 

Whenever he let up, you took the opportunity to gasp in a mouthful of air. The lack of oxygen was making your head spin, you vision blurring at the edges. You were slipping down a very slippery slope. The longer his mouth moved against yours, the quicker you felt all reason and sanity abandon you.

Jimin’s control never wavered. There were times when you tried to dictate the pace but he'd pinch your chin to keep you still.

A moan worked its way up your throat when he gave a particular hard suck to your bottom lip. Not knowing what to do with yourself, body overheating with lust, your fingernails dug into his shoulders in a last-ditch bid to ground yourself back to reality. Jimin growled in response, one of his hands tangling itself in your hair to tug at the strands. You stilled immediately, the show of dominance enough to make your body go limp in his hold.

When his tongue finally met yours, licking into your open mouth with fervor, it  wiped your brain clean of all coherency, your mind now blissfully blank. There was only Jimin, only his heat melting against your own, only his scent enveloping you like a warm cocoon you never wanted to break out of. Eventually, though, he had to pull back for air and you almost whined in protest. 

After all, who needed air? What use was breathing when you could be spending that time kissing him instead?

It took a while for the heavy fog to lift. When it did you noted that you were still slightly out of breath, your heartbeat erratic and deafening. Under any normal circumstances, you'd be embarrassed by how effortlessly he had turned your insides to gush.

You struggled to keep your eyes open as you craned your neck to look at him properly. You had no time to feel self-conscious, however. Jimin's erotic appearance was much more interesting. 

His lips were swollen a dark pink hue that perfectly complimented the flush high on his cheeks. It was a pretty sight, but nothing comapred to the deep pools of lust that stared back at you. Jimin looked like he could swallow you whole with his stare alone.

Your entire body trembled at the prospect of him carrying out the silent promise. In fear or anticipation—you did not know yet. You had barely survived his kiss. What were you going to do if he had his way with you? Now you understood why Jimin kept himself at an arm's reach from all of his suitors. His touch was lethal, designed and weaponized to make his unsuspecting victims fall deep into trance. Once you got involved with him, there was no coming back out of it the same. He was like a ruthless drug. One hit and that was all it took for your body to become hooked to the feeling. If you had any more, you'd stay addicted for the rest of your life, whether you wanted to or not.

Jimin was dangerous. Even in your prime, you had never been this powerful. The worst part was that he knew it. He wielded his charm with expertise, knew exactly how much to give to make you weak at the knees. You had only had a taste of him and yet your body thrummed with a burning need for more.

Thankfully, his needs mirrored yours. You didn’t have to wait long for him to hoist himself onto the ledge of the pool, the lean muscles of his arms flexing as he dragged his body out of the water with the grace of a panther. In the blink of an eye he had shucked off his sodden swim trunks and placed the wet material under him as a cushion. 

You gulped, feeling almost bashful. It was...a lot to take in. It felt almost wrong to ogle at him now that he was stark naked.  

Unaware of your embarrassment, Jimin puffed out his chest, shameless as ever. With a smirk plastered on his face, he patted his thick thigh and nodded in your direction.

“C’mre.” He spread his knees, cock hanging heavy between his thighs. “Time to be a good host and return the favor.”

You waddled closer before your brain could talk you out of it, mesmerized by the sight in front of you.

Jimin’s dick was—for lack of better terms—pretty. He was thick, not too long or too veiny, and pink at the head. He kept his pubic hair neatly trimmed, the dark patch standing out against golden skin.   

Weeks ago you would have never thought twice about sucking off a man who wasn’t Yoongi. Yet here you were, mouth watering at the prospect of Jimin filling up your mouth. 

You had Yoongi to thank for that. 

For the briefest moment, you let yourself imagine the look on Yoongi’s face if he walked in on you right now. Even if you had an idea, it was hard to predict what his reaction would be...

Jimin’s croon yanked you back to reality. “Let me see what you can do. No hands, sweetheart. Show me what you got.”

The look aimed your way was full of expectation. 

Not one to disappoint, your lips automatically stretched around his girth. You suckled the tip and sighed in contentment as he slowly plumped up against the flat of your tongue

God, you had missed sucking dick. You hadn’t been lying earlier when you had confessed how much you enjoyed it. There was something exhilarating about making a man go putty in your hands—or mouth. No matter how much they thought they had control over the situation, the reality was that you had them by their cock. 

Drool pooled in your mouth, spilling at the corners, but Jimin didn’t seem to mind the mess. If anything, the visual made him impossibly harder. He hummed low in his throat as his heavy erection throbbed on your tongue, and ran a hand over your face to feel the sizable bulge poking your cheek.  

“You look so gorgeous like this, stuffed full from my cock.” He grinned down at you with all the self-satisfaction of someone getting his dick sucked. “Really fucking pretty.”

One of his thumbs traced patterns over your cheekbones and you felt your face warm. The action was almost...sweet. And it most definitely felt out of place in this context.

The tender moment was broken the instant his length hit the back of your throat. You gagged, the choked sound loud enough to drown out his deep groan of appreciation. 

It was with great reluctance that he let you pull back to catch your breath. You coughed, slightly embarrassed that you were so out of form.

He reached out to break the thin string of saliva connecting your swollen lips to his weeping cock. He smoothed his coated fingers over your lips, smearing the excess saliva and his precum all over your mouth and cheeks with the focus of a painter hard at work.

The sight made his lower belly sing with satisfaction. And still, he wanted more.

Jimin took a minute to appreciate your less than perfect appearance. He was so used to seeing you with perfectly applied lipstick and coiffed hair, that seeing you so disheveled made something in his stomach kick. His thoughts ran wild. He was hit with a primal desire to ruin you, mark you up and leave the imprint of his dick in your throat so you’d remember him long after this was over.

“Wanna see you choke yourself on my cock,” he grunted, his member twitching at the thought. “Think you can do that for me?” 

Instead of a verbal reply, you leaned it to plant a kiss on the flushed head of his erection, kissing down his hard length until your mouth reached the base of it. When you looked up, his gaze was darker than the night skies. 

A shudder ran through your body, from the crown of your head all the way down to the tips of your toes.  He never broke his gaze, the weight of it pressing down on you like a security blanket.

When you took one of his balls into your mouth, wet and messy just like you suspected he liked it, his hands shot up to rake through your hair. They pulled at the strands but not hard enough to stop you. Conflict warred on his face, unsure if he wanted you stop or not.

“You’re fucking nasty,” he rasped when you gave a particular hard suck, your cheeks hollowing around his sack. “I love it. Who would’ve fucking thought that I’d land such a good slut?”

Your moan was muffled, slightly distorted, but he heard it all the same. His eyes curved into crescents. “You like that, huh?”

He abandoned the grip he had on your hair in order to enclose his fingers around his length instead.

“Show me your tongue. Yeah, like that.” He bit down on his bottom lip when you flawlessly executed his command. Jimin kept you like that for a while, your tongue hanging out and waiting on him like an obedient dog. He seemed in no hurry to get the show on the road, content with observing while he fisted his cock in lazy strokes. It was humiliating but your core had never felt this on fire.

Saliva pooled in your mouth and threatened to overflow. Just when it started to trickle down the sides of your open mouth, Jimin fed you his meaty cock as a reward.

“Now show me what a good slut is capable of.”

It was all the motivation you needed to take him as deep as your throat allowed. Your throat, unaccustomed to the stretch and burn, had difficulty adjusting. Patiently, Jimin let you to take all the time you needed. Determined to perform well, you worked on his cock until he was all you could taste and smell. 

Jimin was a lot more vocal than what you had imagined. It was a pleasant surprise. Guys usually held back - refused to give up that semblance of control - but Jimin’s ego was far from fragile. Whenever you swallowed he sucked in a quick breath of air, and when the muscles in your throat clamped down around his length he hissed out deep groans, their low timbre sending shivers down your back.

You paid close attention to his reactions and cataloged them. And that feeling - of having to learn someone’s ticks - was one that you hadn’t felt in a long, long time. 

Maybe if the circumstances had permitted it, you would have explored that feeling, questioned what it meant and why you enjoyed it. As it was, you were valiantly trying not to make unattractive whale sounds every time Jimin’s fat cock jabbed the back of your throat.

It seemed like ages before your throat finally relaxed enough to take him all the way down to the hilt. Jimin kept a firm hand on top of your head, not exerting enough pressure to lock you in place, but the implication was there. 

“Fuck.” His balls ached, feeling like they were about to burst. The closer he approached climax, the more his tongue ran loose. “You take it so good, make me feel so fucking good. Choke on my fat cock—just like that. A little longer, c’mon, I know you can take it. Good girl. God, you’re so—oh fuck!”

The muscles in the back of your throat had closed up and you gagged from lack of air. Eyes glassy from unshed tears, you struggled to not clamp down your teeth on his dick as your body was pushed to its limits. Only Jimin’s moans of ecstasy kept you from pulling back too soon—that and the deathly tight grip in your hair.

“Your mouth should be illegal.” Mercifully he let you catch your breath. The respite was brief. Your lungs burned but you had no time to do anything about it before he used the grip in your hair to slam you back down his length. 

If you had been able to set the pace before, there was no possibility of that now. Jimin used your mouth like he was paying for it, his rhythm fast-paced and erratic. The rough treatment should have provoked objection and a litany of protests but to your shame and surprise, there was not a fiber in your body that wanted to stop.

You knew that Jimin was nearing his end long before he announced it. He tried to keep the shakiness out of his voice, but there was no hiding the signs of his impending orgasm.

Jimin hissed out a few last obscenities, his tongue stumbling to get out the words as his entire body tensed up like a volcano about to erupt. “Better swallow it all, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want to dirty the pool I worked so hard to clean, now would you? That wouldn’t be very nice…”

You sucked harder in reply, your tongue pressed up against a sensitive vein near the head of his dick. The hold on your hair tightened and he groaned in ecstasy, pleasure wracking his entire frame. “’Atta girl. You’re gonna take me right down your throat. Gonna show me how well you take it? Prove to me that you’re a good girl ‘til the end, hnn?”

Bitterness coated your tongue before he could finish formulating his question. It flooded your mouth in thick spurts.

Yoongi had always claimed that your greed was boundless when it came to cum. You were only proving his words to be true by swallowing everything down in large gulps. It was a bit on the depraved side—you knew some of your friends wouldn’t swallow semen even if they got paid millions for it—but you loved it. You sucked him down until you were certain that he had nothing left to give you.

“So fucking greedy.” Jimin huffed out a laugh and eased you off when the stimulation became too painful to bear. “Knew the moment I met you that you were just gagging for a taste. Look at you… Don’t even need to tell you to clean me off.”

Now that you were no longer caught up in the moment, it was easier to think straight. Arousal still pulsed between your legs but it had been dulled, no longer screaming for attention. 

“My husband taught me well.”

Jimin raised a brow, mouth splitting into a grin. “Maybe I should thank him.”

“That would be the polite thing to do.” Would it? What protocol should be followed after face-fucking your boss’s wife? “Though I think Yoongi should be the one thanking you.”

“Hmm.” Jimin chose not to question. Less questions, meant less involvement and he hadn’t been lying when he had said that he liked to keep his distance. Even without the questions, Jimin was perceptive enough to pick up on the unsaid. The look on your face told him everything he needed to know. “You like him a lot, that elusive husband of yours.”

“Would I be here if I didn’t?” you said, making him pause.

For once, Jimin found himself at a loss for words.

There was something disconcerting about your smirk that had his stomach twisting in knots. It was not the look he expected to see. Instead of the residual yearning and disappointment, there was nothing but satisfaction written on your face. It bothered him for a reason he could not quite grasp.

Without really knowing how or why, Jimin's instincts told him that he had been played at his own game.

.

.

{MONDAY. 10.32 am}

.

“It’s today, isn’t?” 

You kept the phone pressed close to your ear by raising your shoulder into an exaggerated shrug. Your hands were otherwise occupied, one of them taking out a hair roller, the other applying a deep red color onto the soft pillow of your lips.

It was hard work—one wrong move would stain the skin around your mouth. On any other day, you wouldn’t dare rush, but today there was no time to erase and reapply. You were on a tight schedule. Luckily for you, you had the art of multitasking down to a T.

On the other side of the line, Bogum replied to your inquiry. You hummed in a distracted manner, too busy observing your reflection for any imperfections.

Satisfied with your handwork, you smacked your lips together. Red was the perfect choice. Femme fatales like Marilyn and Brigitte would be proud.

“He left so early this morning I wasn’t even able to wish him luck. Do you happen to know when he’ll be done? He won’t be home before... Ah - I see. Okay, yes, of course I will. No, that’ll be all, thank you Mr. Park. I will, thank you. Have a nice day.” 

After casting one last pleased once-over at your reflection in the vanity mirror, you made your way to the conservatory with all the smugness of someone who knew that they were in for the fuck of their life.

And there was no better candidate for the job than Kim Seokjin. 

Equipped with model-like proportions and a face that belonged on the silver screen, he was the epitome of beauty. Renaissance artists would have begged on their knees to replicate his good looks on canvas. You knew, however, just by looking at his perfectly symmetrical features, that someone as physically perfect as Kim Seokjin was incapable of being duplicated. Renowned and prestigious painters would have struggled to capture the aura he radiated, their painted renditions crude imitations of the real thing.

His presence alone inspired adulation. With that kind of face, it was probably common occurrence that throngs of women - and men - threw themselves reverently at his feet like he was a god and the world was his temple.

In other words—Seokjin was unworldly beautiful. 

...And he also had the ego to match it. 

In that aspect, he reminded you of Jimin. They were both individuals who would never settle for sub-par fucks, even if their lives depended on it. 

Seokjin was well aware of his worth and he probably thought himself deserving of the best. Unlike Jimin, he had no interest in playing games. You knew that with him, there would be no give and take, no push and pull, no ploys of seduction. If he liked what he saw enough, he’d bite. If he didn’t, he’d turn up his nose and move on to the next best thing.

Maybe the past few days had gone to your head, filling you with undeserved confidence, but you were convinced that he wouldn’t turn you down. Not when you had on your fuck-me-heels and a dress you knew for a fact made your ass look fantastic.

You looked fucking good. In the past an outfit like this would have been sufficient incentive for Yoongi to bend you over the nearest piece of furniture and fuck you silly until your legs turned to jello and you forgot what day of the month it was.

If it had once worked on Yoongi – the toughest stone to crack – then Seokjin would most likely break as easily. As monumental as his ego was, Seokjin wasn’t an impenetrable fortress.

Still…you had expected a bit more resistance than the reality you were met with. When you had asked him whether he’d fancy taking a break, your tone unmistakably suggestive, Seokjin had proceeded to ditch the protective gloves and cleaning equipment, not needing to be asked twice, and had promptly followed you into the house with the enthusiasm of a puppy promised a treat.

As soon as you had crossed the threshold, he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off of you. Large hands groped whatever handfuls of flesh they were able to reach, zealous in their exploration. You giggled at his blatant impatience. All of your assumptions were proved right—Seokjin was undoubtedly accustomed to getting whatever he wanted, when he wanted. He took without hesitation, his movements bold and unabashed.

You had to physically pull him down the hallway in order to get him to move. If he had his way, he would have probably taken you right there against the wall, too impatient to bother with the removal of clothes.

“In here?” he gawked, his eyes darting around the room in alarm. “You want to fuck on your husband’s bed.”

You huffed out an amused breath. “It’s my bed, too. Where did you expect me to bring you, the rooftop?” 

Seokjin paused, considering. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed around an invisible knot of nerves.

In the background, only the quiet whir of a ceiling fan could be heard. If you listened hard enough, you’d probably be able to hear the conflicting thoughts warring through his mind.

Inwardly, you rolled your eyes. What kind of skewered sense of moral righteousness was this? He was fine fucking his boss’s wife but not in his bed?

Seokjin didn’t take too long to arrive at the same conclusion.

“Alright,” he said, mind made up. Any trace of hesitation had been erased from his eyes, replaced only by fiery resolve. “Let’s get it.”

“I—” you opened your mouth and then closed it. 

You had forgotten what it was like to fuck around with fratboys. It brought you back to a time when the only available guys around you were as vapid as they were handsome. It came without saying that hooking up with the star players on the football team had come with its perks—like their short refractory periods and unbeatable stamina. But all in all, the list of cons had outweighed the pros, and you had come to the conclusion that fifteen minutes of sex with a hot guy wasn’t worth the pain of being bored out of your mind.  

Meeting Yoongi had been a breath of much needed fresh air. You still recalled the elation and excitement of meeting someone so sophisticated and worldly. College kids couldn’t hold a candle to him.

Seokjin bent down and kissed you. 

You had been so engrossed in your thoughts that the feeling of his lips against your own did not register at first. But Seokjin was insistent and refused to be ignored. He worked his mouth against yours, tongue hot and probing the seam of your mouth.

Instinctively, you gave in to his advances, your body responding before your brain had the chance to catch up. His plush lips were soft and tasted slightly of coconut. Most importantly, they were experienced in the art of kissing. Seokjin kissed you fervently, tongue swiping against yours, determined to elicit as many moans as he could from you.

“That’s better,” he said between two pants. “I want you like this.”

You hummed, slightly dazed. “Like what?”

In lieu of an answer, Seokjin cupped your cheek and angled your head to the side so that he could kiss you deeper.

You had no opportunity to demand a verbal reply—not when his mouth kept you otherwise occupied. As the seconds stretched on, you felt yourself go weak in the knees. If it wasn’t for the firm hold he had around your waist, bracing you against his concrete-hard chest, you were certain you’d have already crumpled into an inelegant heap on the floor.

Hours or minutes could have elapsed—you had no clue. It was only when Seokjin pulled up for air that time seemed to regain its true course. You blinked away the spots dotting your vision, the world slowly coming back into focus.

“Yeah, like this,” Seokjin smiled down at you, pleased with what he saw. “I want you like this—thinking only of me, no one else. I’m the only one you’ll ever think of after this, won’t I?”

You cleared your throat, not trusting your voice. Seokjin raised an eyebrow like he expected an answer and you obliged, albeit a bit wobbly. “I’m not sure that’ll be enough to get me to remember you.”

Seokjin laughed. You could feel it rumble in his chest, so loud was his amusement. “You only say that because you haven’t been with a man like me. Once I give it to you, you’ll never think about another cock again.”

You tilted your head as if unconvinced. You had heard variants of the same promise over the years and had learned not to hold anyone to their word.

“What do you need?” Seokjin cajoled. “Tell me what you need from me and I’ll give it to you, babygirl.”

“I need a cock in me.” The ache between your legs was becoming unbearable.  

He exhaled sharply, not expecting you to be so blunt. “Fuck, okay.”

One of his hands reached down for the silver buckle of his belt but the nervous buzz thrumming through his body made him clumsy. After a few seconds of fumbling with the button of his jeans, you joined in to help. His impatience seemed to have rubbed off on you because you found that you had no use for unnecessary prolongations. As crude as the thought was, you needed to be fucked. Preferably sooner than later.

“Shit.” His jaw clenched just as your hand squeezed around his length. 

“You’re so big, what the fuck.” You palmed his girth once again, just to confirm your initial assessment. And—yep. He was fucking packing. 

So he really had hit the genetic jackpot. Huh, you intoned, not really surprised by the discovery. Some people really did have all the luck in the world.

You fell to your knees unceremoniously. The polished floorboards dug into your shins but you were quick to dismiss the discomfort, too taken by the sizable length in front of your face. It wasn’t impressively thick, but the length was just right. Your thighs tightened as you imagined how well it could fill you up.

Impatience got the best of you and you spit into your palm, too lazy to go grab the lube from the bedside table. You used both hands to work his member to stiffness, occasionally leaning forward to spit onto his growing erection, the excess saliva easing the glide of skin on skin.

“Fuck, keep going. Get me ready to fuck you.” The sound of his voice made you glance up for the first time.

From this angle, Seokjin positively towered above you.

God, you wanted to climb him like a fucking tree.

Lust pumped through your veins, warming you from the inside out. Seeing him so affected made you re-double your efforts. The only thought crossing your mind right then was how much you wanted to see him to fall apart.

You twisted your hand with every upstroke, paying extra attention to the sensitive underside near the head of his cock. Every time you let your thumb stroke that particular area, Seokjin’s hips thrust forward of their own accord, a muffled groan of satisfaction making its way past his lips before he could swallow them down.

As much as he tried to appear unaffected, you could tell that he was slowly but surely being worn down. His hands balled into fists at his sides, nails digging white crescents onto the surface of his skin in an attempt to reign in his raging desires.

When you reached down to play with his balls, Seokjin decided that he had had enough.

Yanking you up by the arm, he manhandled you onto the bed, lifting you around like you weighed next to nothing. The perfectly ironed Egyptian cotton sheets crinkled under your weight but you couldn’t care less. By the end of the night, those wrinkles would be the least of your concerns.

“You sure about this, right?” He asked while kicking his pants and briefs all the way off. The rest of his clothes followed suit, and you gulped audibly as he revealed his broad shoulders, chiseled chest and slim waist in all their glorious nakedness. “Once I start I won’t hold back… And I’m not sure you’re ready for the fuck of your life.”

“Yes! I need a cock so bad. Please.”

Ignoring your whiny pleas, he bent his torso over the edge of the bed, blindly searching through the discarded clothes piled up on the floor.

“Condom. Where the fuck did I—Aha!” He grinned triumphantly when he found the foil packet in the back pocket of his jeans.

“I don’t need it,” you cut in before he ripped it open. “I’m on birth control and I’m clean.”

“Wha— Are you serious?” Momentarily stunned, he gaped down at you, condom wrapper still clutched between his fingers. “You want me to raw you.”

His crude phrasing made you squirm. “I like the feeling of cum in my pussy…” You felt your cheeks flame at the confession. “If you’re clean then please don’t use it.”

Seokjin chewed his bottom lip, visibly lost in thought.

“Please? Want to feel you fill me to the brim.” His eyes flashed. You knew you had him, then. 

When he spoke next, it was more out courtesy than due to indecisiveness. “What about Mr. Min?”

“What about me?” a familiar voice cut through the air.

You both startled, heads whipping towards the doorway. Except, unlike you, Seokjin recoiled, stumbling back like he had been burnt by a hot iron, his hands seizing the nearest pillow to cover up his modesty. From an outside perspective it must have been quite the sight.

“Oh please don’t stop on my account. Keep going, we were just getting to the good part,” Yoongi said coolly as he crossed his arms over his chest. He was still in his work clothes but had lost his suit jacket somewhere along the way. His white dress shirt was rolled up at the sleeves and your eyes were instantly drawn to his arms. One of the corners of his mouth twitched when he took note of your interest but his face remained otherwise blank, giving nothing away.

“W-what?” Seokjin gulped, any of his earlier bravado gone.

"Did I stutter?" Yoongi’s tone was monotone, almost bored. But his eyes—they told a whole different story. They pierced right through you, pinning you in place. Not that there was anywhere else you'd rather be than here, right now, with him, in this bedroom. You had been waiting for this moment for so long that the anticipation was killing you.

His cold gaze slid back over to Seokjin as he silently seized him up. "Well? Didn't I hear you say you were going to give my wife 'the fuck of her life'?" Yoongi's words were twisted with sarcasm. It was evident that he was looking down on Seokjin, his tone nothing but straight up condescending.

The way they talked about you like you weren’t even in the room should have been off-putting but for now you preferred to watch the scene unfold without interfering. There would be plenty of time to play later.

"What? Can't put your money where your mouth is?" Yoongi scoffed and leaned back against the wooden doorframe, feigning disappointment.

Seokjin bristled, deeply offended.

Internally, it dawned on you that this might be the first time someone had so openly challenged Seokjin. You knew guys like him—they were used to getting their way, used to being showered in constant praise, used to people coming back and begging for seconds, so thirsty for more they’d settle for scraps. Yoongi contempt had probably knocked Seokjin out of his orbit, rattling the latter to the core.

"You think I can't pleasure her?" he dared ask, eyebrows inflexed. His attempt at intimidation would have been more efficient had he not been the only one naked, you observed from the sidelines.

"Go on." Yoongi waved his hand, looking like he couldn't care less. "I'd like to see you try."

The clear disregard made Seokjin's jaw tick. His heavy brow furrowed. For the first time since Yoongi's presence was made known, Seokjin rounded on you, his normally honey brown irises now a murky, indescribable color. 

You shuddered, high on the feeling of being the subject of both of their attention. 

The air crackled with electricity, the tension escalating by the second, and you realized that playtime had arrived faster than anticipated. 

Seokjin approached you, much like a lion stalking his prey. You couldn't help but notice the determined glint in his eye, the confidence he wore unfailingly till the end. In his mind, he was going to win. He had no doubt about it. You were going to bend to his will and cum hard on his tongue just like the countless others had before you.

You almost felt bad for him. 

Maybe... Maybe if you had met him years ago, things would have gone exactly like how Seokjin pictured it in his head. But what he failed to realize was that he was in Yoongi's den, playing by Yoongi's rules.

And your husband? He never started anything he knew he wouldn't be able to finish. That was the business man in him. He measured the risks and calculated the cost before any operation, thus ensuring that he would never be beaten.

It was easy to tell by his relaxed posture that he really did view Seokjin as a non-threat.

You had known, of course, that he had never considered losing as an option. Yoongi had been the one to propose this particular game in the first place, after all. Even if it was a first for the both of you, he must have known that the stakes would always remain in his favor.

“Ready?” The mattress dipped under his weight. Seokjin crawled over you, kneeling so that his legs bracketed yours. There was a fire in his eyes that hadn’t been there fifteen minutes ago. He looked like a man with something to prove.

Inadvertently, your gaze flitted back to the doorway, searching for Yoongi’s. You wanted to see his face, needed to see how he’d react to another man touching you. 

“Eyes up here.” Reluctantly, you followed Seokjin’s instructions. He noticed your pout right away. “When I’m through with you, you won’t even remember you’re married.”

Gutsy. Your head turned to catch Yoongi’s reaction but Seokjin stopped you by leaning down to kiss you full on the lips. 

It was a strange feeling. Usually, you shut out the rest of the world, attention solely focused on the pair of lips moving against your own, but instead you felt hyper-aware of every little thing going on around you, ears straining as you tried to figure out what Yoongi was up to. 

Seokjin nipped your swollen lip, unhappy with how your mind kept drifting. You tried to make a more conscious effort and show more interest, running your hands up and down his arms and letting out puffs of air whenever his hands ghosted over a ticklish area of your body.

Now that you had become a more active participant, you had finally begun to appreciate the slow pace Seokjin had built up. Contrary to your expectations, he hadn’t shoved his horse dick into you and hammered away. He took his time with you, making a show out of it. You couldn’t say you disliked it.

Okay, so, admittedly your expectations had been pretty low to begin with... But you were quickly seeing the errors of your ways. And, in your personal opinion, it was always better to be pleasantly surprised than the opposite. 

Yoongi did not share the sentiment.

It was the first time a stranger had been invited into your shared bedroom. Seeing another man settled against the pillows he slept on at night wasn’t a sight he had ever imagined he’d see—let alone enjoy. 

And for a while, he let himself watch without intruding in on the scene, a foreign and inexplicable feeling rooting him to the spot. Yoongi had no name for it but the longer he played spectator, the more intense the emotion became.

Beneath the alien feeling, he detected arousal and although he wasn’t sure what exactly he found exciting about the sight in front of him, a ball of desire coiled tightly at the base of his spine.

Objectively, both of you looked beautiful together. Your words had not done Seokjin’s beauty justice. When he looked at the pair of you intertwined, it was like watching a high quality Hollywood movie. But Yoongi knew that his arousal wasn’t just surface level. It ran deeper than that.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” he goaded, needing to confirm his suspicions. “You should get her ready to take cock. She hasn’t been fucked in a while, so she’ll be tight.”

He saw how his words made you squirm and smothered a smirk. He couldn’t wait to deal with you.

When Seokjin looked up to meet his gaze, Yoongi was surprised to see incredulity present in the brown of his eyes.

“Wait.” He swallowed, suddenly losing the confidence he had sported earlier. “Y-you’re actually serious about this?”

Ah. Yoongi suspected that the slow pace hadn’t been because Seokjin had wanted to enjoy his wife, but because he had been waiting for Yoongi to jump in and put a premature end to all of this.  

“Looks like you really were all talk. But what else should I have expected from some college grad student…”

Provoking him into action proved to be too easy. The line of Seokjin’s mouth hardened and he renewed his previous efforts. He grew bolder, hands deliberately reaching for your breasts to squeeze them through the expensive material of your dress.  The kiss became sloppier as well, losing all finesse. From what Yoongi could see, there was less technique, but more tongue and teeth.

Whatever fire Yoongi had lit inside him had made him careless.

Yoongi’s pointed stare never strayed. As if sensing the scrutiny directed his way, Seokjin fumbled with his movements, eager to prove but too frenzied to actually accomplish anything.  

By the looks of it, he wouldn’t be able to find your clitoris even it was drawn on a map with the step by step instructions attached. Yoongi would find the whole situation laughable if he wasn’t so affronted on your behalf.

“Do you know how to fuck a woman or not?” he spat out, exasperated.

“Just a minute, I’m—”

“Here’s what you’re going to do,” Yoongi interrupted, his curt tone leaving no room for argument. He loosened up his tie with one hand as he continued, voice sharp, “Go sit up by the headboard and don’t even think of moving. That means no touching your dick, either.”

There was a tense moment of silence as Seokjin gaped at him, his eyes wide as he tried to quickly process the rapid turn of events. 

"I won't force you to stay. It's your call. But if you choose to play with us, you're abiding by my rules." 

Seokjin looked like he wanted to argue and put up a fight and for half a second, you really thought that he would.  Yoongi took his silence as a favorable answer, certain that the younger man wouldn't leave.

“I’m feeling generous tonight so I’ll let you watch. You can think of it as a learning experience. I’ll even show you how to make my slut soak the sheets.” A smile curved his lips, taunting. “And maybe if you’re good, I’ll let you lick it up. How’s that sound?”

Yoongi raised his brow in challenge and that was all it took for Seokjin to slowly make his way to the edge of the bed, his back hitting the mahogany wood with a dull thud.

Yoongi liked to think he was a reasonable man. 

He was fine with a lot of things—you maxing out his credit cards on ridiculously expensive items of clothing that you never wore more than once, you taking out his newest car for a spin in the big city without permission, you spending an extra thirty minutes on your hair and makeup when he was running late for a dinner function.

What he was not okay with, however, was you sharing your pussy with barely-out-of-college boys who were incapable of going five seconds without creaming their pants.

No, that was where he drew the line.

You were a woman with standards. You had married him, not some pretty-faced fratboy, had you not? If that wasn’t sufficient proof, then what was?

As vain and prideful as it sounded, Yoongi refused to be put on the same level of the other men who chased after you. Unlike those men who salivated over you like a piece of quality meat, he knew exactly what you wanted and what you needed.

In the bedroom, a voice in the back of his mind corrected. You only know what she wants in the bedroom.

Yoongi swallowed, forcing the sudden feeling of inadequacy down his throat. He had failed you on that end. Old habits were hard to kill and he had learned of the consequences the hard way.

It had always been like that. Even as a kid, Yoongi liked rationality and reasoning, preferring numbers to the abstract. Equations had solutions, emotions did not. Before he had met you, every little thing he did had answered logic’s call. He woke up because he had to get to work. He ate because his body needed the energy to survive.

He was so used to fending for himself, of thinking of himself as a unit, that sometimes he forgot that his actions affected others as well. In retrospect, his lack of empathy had most likely been the root of the reason why all of his previous relationships had failed miserably.

People had never stayed long enough to work the issues out. Maybe they figured that he was too anchored in his habits to change or too emotionless to understand. There was also the financial imbalance that factored in and despite Yoongi’s verbal reassurances, none of it had helped. It was…uncomfortable, to say the least. His previous partners had never dared voice out their concerns and worries and Yoongi hated it, hated feeling like he was using his money to keep people in his life, no matter how miserable they clearly felt on the inside.

With you, it was different.

Yoongi reached the foot of the bed and met your honest gaze. Something squeezed his heart tightly and refused to let go. Despite all his flaws, you had stayed. Not out of obligation or monetary obsession—but out of love.

Love…was hard to define. Every time he thought he knew what it meant, it turned out he didn’t. But as he stood there with you finally at an arm’s reach, he thought he felt the emotion beating against his rib cage, making a home in his chest.

“Yoongi.” Your fingers twitched at your side, like they wanted to reach out for him but weren’t sure if they were allowed to.

When he draped himself over your body and interlaced his fingers with yours, it was as if something inside him finally locked into place.  

“My love.” Your pulse jumped at the term of endearment. He liked using it ever since you had let slip that none of your previous lovers had ever called you that way. Even if you had initially complained that it made him sound like a fifty year old man, he knew you enjoyed it by the way your body never failed to respond. “I’ve made you wait long enough.”

He meant it in more ways than one. Yoongi was ready to give you everything, body and soul. He belonged to you.

“Are you going to do something about it?” You held your breath and waited for his answer, anticipation turning you into a squirming mess against the sheets.

“This dress brings back many memories,” he said instead, pointer finger tracing down the line of your cleavage. From this distance, Yoongi could count every single beauty mark that speckled your skin. His memory supplied images of himself licking and connecting each dot, the hot drag of his tongue leaving behind a trail of goosebumps. His mouth hungered for a taste but Yoongi curbed the desire before it had the chance to cloud his judgment. “Although I thought I had ruined it beyond saving a long time ago.”

“Your black card bought me a new one.”

Yoongi snorted, the unrefined sound breaking his cool façade. “Let’s get it off you. As much as I adore it, it looks better on the ground.”

“Take what’s yours.”

Yoongi wasted not a second more, the hurried movements of his hands conveying his burning arousal. With deft fingers, he found the zipper of your dress and pulled, watching with satisfaction as inch after inch of naked skin was exposed.

“Naughty slut.” His eyes narrowed as he admired your exposed body. Yoongi forced himself to keep his hands still at his sides even though he was dying to relieve his painful erection from the tight confines of his briefs. “Are you always bare under your clothes?”

“The lines…” you mumbled and trailed off. “My dress is so tight that my bra and panties show if I wear any.”

Yoongi scoffed, forcing his eyebrows into an expression of disbelief. “So you’re not okay with strangers seeing the outline of your thong, but fine with them ogling your hard nipples? Why? That desperate for them to know what a horny wife I have?”

“I wouldn’t be this horny if you fucked me more often.” You glared.

A beat of silence passed before Yoongi unlocked his jaw. “We’ll have to do something about that mouth later. Seems like a lesson on manners is in order.”

“Counting on it, sir,” was your cheeky answer.

Yoongi’s hand came down with a crack. He watched as your whole body jolted from the impact. “Hands and knees. No, the other way. Face our guest. Since you like showing off your tits so much, here’s another perfect opportunity to do so.”

In your haste to follow his orders, you stumbled several times, knees knocking together as you readjusted yourself to his whims. Without needing to be told, you spread out your legs and arched your back, leaving the most intimate parts of you completely exposed for his viewing pleasure. If he wanted to take you right then, there was nothing stopping him from doing so.

Seokjin was all but forgotten at this point. He could have left the room and Yoongi wouldn’t have noticed—or cared. His vision had tunneled, his entire world narrowed down to the sight of you presenting yourself just like a good whore should. It seemed like you were equally affected, if not more. Yoongi spread your cheeks so that he could fully appreciate the view of your drenched pussy. If he had ever doubted your arousal, your slick thighs, shiny with your juices, and swollen lips were enough proof to dispel such uncertainties.

“You’re all mine to take,” he said in a soft growl.

He knelt behind you and ran his hands up the back of your sticky thighs. This position left him at the perfect height to eat you out. His mouth watered at the prospect of finally having his fill. Too long had he deprived himself of a delicious meal… It was time to fix that.

You moaned the instant his finger came into contact with your rapidly hardening clit. Your feeble attempts at shoving your hips back for more were thwarted by Yoongi's strong grip on your thigh, the rough pads of his fingertips bruising the soft skin in warning. It took a herculean effort to keep still but you somehow managed, knowing that your obedience would pay off.

Yoongi liked to enjoy his meals. He took his time with you, playing with the abundance of wetness that had collected between your thighs, dragging his digits across your velvety folds.

He loved taking you this way. With you offered up to him ass up and legs spread, he could really get into it, mouth and hands dictating the pace without your interference. There was nothing you could do save for holding open your cheeks and plead for more.

Sometimes—when he felt merciful—he indulged you. But he could not deny that there was something infinitely more satisfying when he drew out your pleasure until you shook and cried with need.

“Mhmm.” His groan echoed yours as he slid in his ring finger into your hot cunt. You were so aroused that the stretch could hardly be felt. “Snug and wet. S’gonna be a tight fit when I open you up with my cock later.”

The unspoken promise of cock made your walls squeeze around his finger and Yoongi groaned again  as he imagined how amazing you’d feel around his painful erection instead of his hand.

For now, he pushed the ache aside. The only one that mattered right now was you.

He flattened his tongue and let it drag across your folds, moaning as the taste of you flooded his mouth.  Fuck. It wasn’t enough, he thought frantically. As he continued to lick into you like a man starved, he wondered how he could ever possibly tire of your taste. How he had managed to stay away from it all this time was a mystery he had yet to solve.

Your cries of pleasure grew louder as his tongue fucked into you, sampling the snugness of your walls for what would come later. Wetness dripped down his chin but he could care less about the mess you made. He kept licking it up, not wanting to stop for a single second, only pulling off whenever his lungs burned from lack of air.

Attuned to your body and its needs, he felt every tremor and hitch of breath. Whenever he sensed your heart rate kick up, he slowed down and changed the tempo. He kept you on the edge like that for several long minutes, building you up only to bring you back to zero.  

Finally, he pulled back, ignoring the betrayed cry he ripped from your throat, and wiped the shine off his chin with the back of his hand. The taste of you was still heavy on his tongue and he couldn’t help but lick his lips clean in satisfaction. Nothing pleased him more than feasting between your legs and it would be a lie to say that he hadn’t missed it terribly. 

A creak of the mattress distracted him. Seokjin shifted uncomfortably, his erection prominent. By the looks of it, he had been hard for a rather long time. Yoongi was pleased to see that Seokjin had stayed true to his word—his hands were obediently shoved under the meat of his thighs to prevent himself from touching himself.

Yoongi had been so focused on the five-star meal nestled between your thighs that he had forgotten his manners. 

“Darling, it’s time to show our guest what a lovely host you are.” He punctured his command with a sharp swat to your ass.

You stumbled forward but looked back at him for guidance. “How—?”

“Don’t think I forgot how well you begged for cock earlier,” he reminded you. “You still desperate for it?”

“Want,” you shook your head, confused. “Want yours.”

The features of his face softened. “You’ll get mine soon enough. But you know only good sluts get my cock and I still need some convincing.”

“I’m good,” you insisted, your lips pursed into a pout.

He raised his brow and tilted his head.

Squinting your eyes defiantly, you crawled over to Seokjin and begged, shameless and past the point of caring about modesty. “Please fuck my face.”

“Is that—?” Seokjin gulped, looking down at you with worried eyes. “Will you be okay?”  

“Oh, you’d be surprised.” A wicked grin played at Yoongi’s lips. “I’ve cock trained her to take it like a good slut should.”

The unabashed moan his words provoked was all it took for Seokjin to know that you were fully on board with him fucking your face. His eyes widened imperceptibly at how shameless you looked, mouth open with your tongue out, panting for his hardened length down your throat like a bitch in heat. 

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, squeezing the base of his cock to keep himself together.

Your lewd display seemed to amuse Yoongi to no end. 

“Look, she’s hungry for it. Don’t keep her waiting, she’s been good.”

Seokjin gave in. No matter what others believed, he was only human. All men had their limits and Seokjin’s self-restraint had been tested too many times today to count. He fed you his cock, slipping inch after inch into your hot mouth.

His groan of appreciation vibrated deep in his chest and he tipped his head back as the feeling of your mouth momentarily overwhelmed him.

It didn’t take long for him to get lost in the feeling. Although he had had his reservations about the entire thing, Seokjin stopped holding back once he saw how enthusiastic you were. You sucked his cock, working him down even if it was obvious his sizeable length wasn’t making it easy.

“Force it down,” instructed Yoongi.

Seokjin jumped, his eyes flying open as he remembered the older man’s presence. Your mouth was so good he had erased everything else in the room.

“What?”

“She won’t be able to take it in her throat unless you help her.” Yoongi observed with almost clinical detachment. Seokjin took a moment to admire the man’s calm and collected attitude. The moment dissipated quickly, however. Your tongue had started doing things to the head of his cock that had him biting down whines of pleasure.

You laughed around his dick when he failed to suppress one of them. Seokjin’s erection twitched as the vibrations teased him further and he groaned out a few creative expletives that had you giggling harder.

His hips kicked up of their own accord, making you gag loudly as his length reached the back of your throat. Seokjin almost apologized but you dug your nails into the meat of his ass and signaled him to do it again.

He swore again and fucked into your mouth slowly at first but once he saw you could take it, started building a pace. “Holy s-shit. I’m going to blow my load soon, fucking fuck.”

That only seemed to strengthen your determination. You got even tighter around him, almost like you were trying to milk the cum out of his dick with your mouth.

Yoongi approached with the stealth of a cat, making sure not to startle you when you had a cock buried in your throat. Seokjin glanced up and was glad to see that the man wasn’t wholly unaffected. Compared to when he had first met him, Yoongi looked a lot less composed. His once perfectly ironed button-down was now wrinkled, his tie loosened and crooked. And then there was his cock—hard and leaking.

Seokjin’s balls tightened and he blinked through the haze, not knowing why he was so turned on by being watched. Yoongi kept the grip on his dick loose, his strokes lazy and unhurried. Next to him, Seokjin felt like he was about a minute or two away from nutting down your throat.

“Want to know why she’s so desperate for your cum?” The way he said it—like he was imparting a guarded secret—made Seokjin look up at him through heavy lids. Every so often his lids would droop close, attention wavering with every lick of your wicked tongue.

Yoongi leaned in so close that his breath tickled the side of his neck. “It’s because she knows that it’s the only way I’ll give her what she’s been so desperately craving all this time—my fat cock fucking her pussy.”

Seokjin was unsure who the words were truly aimed at. You reacted like they had been whispered for your benefit, moaning without reserve around his dick. 

"She's so cock hungry she was willing to seduce handsome pool boys if it meant that she'd get fucked by me. Reward the slut. Cum, now."

“Oh fuck!” Seokjin threw his head back as he felt his balls empty themselves. The muscles in his thighs quivered and his knees threatened to give out. “What the fuck. I haven’t cum this hard in months.”

His chest heaved as he got his heartbeat under control. When he was finally capable of breathing normally, he chanced a glace down at you and swore his heart stopped for a nanosecond.

Yoongi had pried your mouth open with his fingers, examining the insides of your mouth. The sight was…obscene. Straight out of a porno. Seokjin’s stomach tightened as he observed the scene in front of him, feeling his spent dick twitch in interest despite the recent mind-numbing orgasm.

“Good girl,” praised Yoongi and even to Seokjin’s ears, he sounded proud of his wife’s achievements. “Spit.”

He motioned at his raging boner. “Get me ready to fuck you. With how long it’s been, you’re going to need all the lube you can get.”

Visibly excited at the prospect of finally getting your husband’s cock, you obliged, gathering all the cum in your mouth and letting it drip down his erect length in globs of white. Seokjin had never experimented with cumplay and didn’t know if the sight aroused or disgusted him.

“Mhm,” Yoongi grunted as he slicked up his dick, coating the entirety of it in another man’s cum. The sound of each stroke rang out loudly in the otherwise quiet room, the sound lewd and wet.

“Please fuck me now,” you pleaded, hands clasped in your lap and knees still tucked under you from earlier. The position and sweet tone made you appear demure—but by now Seokjin knew better. “You promised.”

“I did, didn’t I?” He smiled wide enough for creases to appear near his eyes. “Time to give you what you worked so hard for.”

Yoongi didn’t wait for a reply—not that he had been expecting one in the first place. He pushed you back until your back hit the mattress and crawled over you, pinning you to the bed with his weight.

He kept his eyes level with yours as he pushed the head of his cock into you. The stretch was slow but he refused to go faster, ignoring your noises of encouragement. Despite his earlier rough treatment, he had no interest in inflicting this kind of pain. He kept his hips still, not giving in to his instincts, and waited until you had completely adjusted before finally moving again.  

Your moan sounded more genuine this time. It was enough to convince Yoongi that you were ready for more. “You always let out the prettiest sounds for me.”

He pulled out all the way only to slam back in, the intrusion earning him a throaty moan, louder than the last. Grinning, he kept up the slow yet deep thrusts, balls slapping against your ass with every rock of his hips into yours.

Yoongi felt the best kind of dizzy, like he had smoked a blunt right before sliding into your cunt. There were only two instances where he felt this invincible and on top of the world. One, whenever he fucked your sweet pussy as he pleased. Two, when he had secured a multi-million dollar deal. Luckily for him, he had checked both boxes today. The adrenaline high he had gotten this morning at the office still ran through his veins and only fueled his desire to fuck you harder and drive your body into the mattress.

Unfortunately, he had been pent up for so long that he wasn’t sure he’d be able to give it to you like you deserved. He had been hard for God knew how long… And hadn’t had sex in almost two whole months. No wonder he felt his control slipping much faster than usual.

“Missed your cock so much,” you sobbed, hiccuping as he drove into you harder. “Thought about it every night.

“I promise I’ll never keep it away from you this long ever again.”

“Good.” Your lashes fluttered as he ground his hips into yours, pelvis rubbing against your needy clit. “Ah!”

Yoongi’s rhythm stuttered as he adjusted your legs, throwing one over his shoulder in order to reach deeper. “Missed this tight cunt. Craved it so much, I dreamt of it. Imagined you bouncing on my lap during those board meetings, bending you over the conference table and taking you in front of all of my associates. I’d let them watch, let them watch you take my cock from behind like a filthy whore.”

He abandoned his deep thrusting for quicker, shallow strokes. “Fuck, I can feel you tighten. You going to cum all over my cock for me? Did you like the idea of me fucking you in a room full of people that much?”

Yoongi’s groan of pleasure was drowned out by your scream of ecstasy. The way you clenched down like a vice was almost enough to destroy the last of his control. He gritted his teeth, nostrils flaring as he drove into you even deeper, determined to see you fall apart one last time.

Knowing that it wouldn’t take many more thrusts before he’d be pushed over the edge, he reached down between your legs to rub at your clit. You thrashed under him, over stimulated but forced to take it. If it wasn’t for his firm grip on your legs, you would have tried to buck him off.

“Ah, Yoongi! Yoongi, I’m—” You sucked in a gulp of air as your eyes rolled back. “Oh God!”

“That’s right. Cream my cock, slut,” he hissed, his shirt sticking to him uncomfortably. His fringe was matted with sweat, but he couldn’t push it out of his face, not now, not when he was so fucking close.

His thumb flicked over your clit in rough circles, knowing exactly what you needed to be pushed over the edge.

It seemed to do the trick—seconds later and he felt you break into a violent climax, pussy gushing all over his cock and muscles clamping down on him with every contraction.

Yoongi could hold it back no longer. His last thrusts were quick and rough, cock throbbing painfully as he chased his end. Hips slamming into yours, he snarled between clenched teeth, “You better take it all.”

He thought he felt your pussy throb around him as he released himself inside you, cum spurting so deep he was sure he’d painted your cervix white.

For a while, only the whirring of the ceiling fan and the sound of rapid beating of hearts could be heard. Yoongi knew he should probably go clean up and throw his soiled clothes and sheets into the hamper, but his muscles had gone lax and refused to cooperate.

You rolled onto your stomach and propped yourself up on your elbows. He cracked open an eye when he heard you clear your throat.  

“So? Threesome? How did we feel about that?”

“Are you asking me?” Seokjin asked incredulously and Yoongi finally remembered there was an extra presence on their bed. When you shrugged then nodded, Seokjin snorted. “Do you always conduct polls after sex?”

Yoongi was similarly unimpressed. “No one else can make you cum as hard as I do. Remember that.”

.

 .

.

.

“So this is the young man you told me so much about,” drawled Yoongi.

Jungkook’s spine straightened, the man’s low timbre doing things to his insides.

When you had announced that he’d finally be able to meet your husband, Jungkook had readily agreed, looking forward to having his curiosity finally sated.

After one unsuccessful online search, Jungkook had given up on figuring out what kind of man you had married. His imagination had pictured a middle-aged man with a beer belly who occasionally liked to play polo.

Jungkook gulped audibly, realizing he couldn’t have been further from the truth.

Of fucking course his boss had to be ridiculously handsome. With his clear skin, delicately shaped nose and lips, and small, sharp eyes that had Jungkook averting his gaze, Mr. Min was so handsome that Jungkook was left bereft of speech.

Unaware of his inner crisis, Yoongi filled the awkward silence with ease. “I believe we’ve exchanged over the phone. You may address me as Yoongi, if you so wish. My wife tells me how hard you work. I wanted to personally thank you for all your efforts. I know it’s not an easy task to work in such weather conditions.”

Oh god. They talked about him. Together.

He cleared his throat. “I’m just doing my job, sir.”

Yoongi held out his hand for him to shake. His hands were so delicate looking that the force behind his grip took Jungkook by surprise. Yoongi’s gaze never strayed, trapping him in place. Jungkook felt like a prey with nowhere to hide.

“It was a pleasure working for the both of you.” He managed without stuttering like a fool. “If ever you need me for anything else, don’t hesitate. I’ve done some gardening before and I’m ok with the odd paint jobs.”

Jungkook bit his lip and ceased his rambling. Embarrassed, he scratched the back of his neck.

“I’ll be sure to remember that.”

Yoongi let the corners of his mouth curl into a smirk. He turned towards you as he watched Jungkook gather the rest of his belongings and take his leave. “You’re right. He is cute.”

“I’m always right,” you said in a distracted manner, mind elsewhere.

“You were awfully silent earlier. Hm? Not very polite.” One of his hands squeezed the dip at your waist.

You didn’t bother suppressing your glare. Yoongi merely chuckled, amused by your predicament. “I was otherwise busy.”

“Oh? But don’t you think Jungkookie would’ve enjoyed seeing my cum dripping out of your greedy pussy?” he asked, the lilt in his tone teasing. “He looked absolutely taken with you. Kept admiring your legs—not that I blame him.”

His hands played with the hem of your brazenly short dress, lifting the fabric up your thighs to uncover your naked mound.

“Would’ve been nice to treat him for all his hard work,” he commented as his fingers dipped into your hole to play with the cum he had fucked into you not even an hour ago. “And seeing cum paint your pretty thighs would have been quite the gift.”

“Yo-oongi,” you moaned his name, clenching your core as tightly as you could, not wanting to spill a single drop. “I think, ah, I think he wouldn’t have liked s-seeing your cum go to waste.”

“Is that so?”

“He looked more taken with you than with me,” you said between heavy pants. One of your hands had closed around Yoongi’s wrists in warning—you were still on the front porch for God’s sake there were kids in the neighborhood—but it hadn’t deterred him in the least. On the contrary, his fingers plundered your depths, determined to get you to drench his whole hand.

“Well…” Yoongi smiled, gums on display, as your body shuddered from head to toe. fin

“There’s only one way to test that theory out, isn’t there?”

.

.

#i gave up editing halfway bc no1 has time for that so apologies !! for any mistakes n typos !!! #ty to all my lovely friends who encouraged me to finish this fic on my own time ! #u are all angels n this fic would still be in draft format if not for u :'( #bts smut #yoongi smut #jimin smut #hoseok smut #seokjin smut #cries

[danganronpa-madness-imagines]

Shuichi couldn’t move, he couldn’t even breath. All he could do was stand and stare at the now closed piano. The brightly colored blood dripping out from between the piano keys and the large wooden cover looked as if it was almost mocking him. He closed his eyes tightly, wishing with all his might that it would somehow fix everything and that when he opened his eyes again, Kaede would be standing right infront of him. 

Just as she had been doing moments before, before he was forced to watch as she was slowly executed right in front of him and every other person that she had tried her best to inspire, before he had been forced to watch the panic on her face grow as she was slowly deprived of oxygen again and again while doing the very thing she used to love so much. He was shaken out of his shock by a hand on his shoulder. It was Maki, she nodded to him solemnly before helping clear everyone out along with Kaito who was trying not to be too loud as he told everyone to give Shuichi some space.

He heard them all pile into the elevator, he heard the elevator doors close, the sound of metal hitting metal echoing in his ears. He heard the elevator take his classmates back up to the courtyard, he listened until the steady dripping of the blood from the piano was the only noise left in the room. 

Only once he was sure that they had all left did he let himself fall to the ground, all of his emotions finally spilling out. A raw anguished noise akin to a sob erupted from his throat, it was full of emotion, sadness, regret, and anger. Anger towards the killing game, anger towards monokuma, and most of all, anger towards the mastermind for pushing kaede to the point she was willing to commit a murder. 

As he sat there, drowning in his emotions he didn’t even realize he was still screaming until his throat became sore from the strain. 

He rubbed his eyes in a futile effort to stop the tears that kept running down his face in a never-ending stream. His mouth stuttered open. 

“I’m sorry Kaede, I’m so sorry.” he said as he cried.  He had no idea how long he stayed there on the ground, sobbing and pouring his heart out with endless apologies and promises to end the killing game no matter what it took, to not let her death be in vain.

When he finally ran out of tears and composed himself enough that he no longer felt he was falling apart at the seams, he got up and slowly walked over to the elevator, almost breaking down again over the memory of kaede from only hours before. Once he was back to the courtyard he instantly made his way to his room, not even Kokichi daring to intercept the poor boy who looked dead on his feet. Once he got back to his room he decided to lay down on the bed and try to sleep, half hoping that when he woke up, all of this would turn out to simply be a nightmare. The haunting melody of Kaede’s execution serving as a soundtrack in his nightmares. 

The next morning when he woke up, all the memories of the day before came rushing back to him. Rantaro’s death, the murder trial, and Kaede’s exucution. No! He refused to cry over that again, he had his time to mourn, he made a promise to Kaede that he would end this killing game, no matter the cost! With this motivation he got up and began to get dressed. 

He put on his uniform as he normally would, but right before he could grab his hat he stopped. He promised Kaede he would help everyone escape, there’s no way he can help lead everyone if he’s too scared to even make eye contact with them. He decided to leave it, he would be better. For Kaede.

He made his way to the door, he took a deep breath to calm nerves. He opened it and began walking towards the cafeteria to meet with the others. As he walked down the hallways that were overgrown with weeds and vines, he ran the pads of his fingers over the peeling wallpaper, feeling the texture of it as his hand gilded over the wall.

 As he rounded the corner he was met with the one person he was dreading to see the most, Kokichi. While Shuichi himself didn’t know very much about the boy, he had been in his presence in the past long enough to know that no matter what Shuichi did to prevent it, he was sure to comment on the sudden subtraction from his normal wardrobe. 

“Hey Shuichi!” Kokichi said as soon as he saw him, he ran up to the detective waving excitedly like a child. “You finally got rid of that emo hat!” he said exaggeratedly excited, “is this ‘cause Kaede died or whatever?” he asked in an overly friendly tone. Shuichi froze, he had been expecting this of course but it didn’t mean he was ready for it. 

“W-, what’s your deal Ouma?” he asks, he asked quietly, the emotions from the day before rushing back. 

“Whatdya’ mean?” kokichi replied innocently. 

“I mean, what’s your deal.” he said more confidently. “You constantly choose to antagonize us about the smallest things just to get a reaction out of us” he said. 

“Well of course i do, its just so fun to see the looks on your stupid faces!” he exclaimed, not the least bit phased by Shuichi’s abnormal behavior. As Kokichi said that, an idea popped into Shuichi’s mind. Normally he would have dismissed it as soon as it came but not today, today he was far too tired to care about consequences or reactions and so he let go. 

“Are you really that desperate for attention?” he asked Kokichi, and the reaction was instant. The playfulness drained out of his face, and was soon replaced with anger. 

“I-” 

“You know what I think?” Shuichi cut him off before he could get any further. 

“I think that you’re so scared of getting close to anyone here knowing that they could die at any second, that you purposefully try and sabotage any chance you could possibly have to be our friend but at the same time you crave attention from others because you’re scared of being forgotten, and so you pull pranks and put up a front to convince everyone that you don’t need anyone and that you’re better off alone. 

Only, that’s not true is it? Or did you do such a good job of lying to everyone that you even convinced yourself?” Shuichi asked him, staring down at the liar. As much as Kokichi tried to hide his true reaction, Shuichi would see his little micro expressions that told him he was right. 

He could practically hear the wheels turning in kokichi’s brain trying to both hide his true reaction and to see how to best react to that in a way that didn’t destroy the image he had created for himself. After a short pause Kokichi finally replied.

“Wow Shuichi, you really dug deep there huh? Oh well, this game is getting pretty boring so you can just end your turn now” he says as he starts to walk away, obviously deflecting and trying to get out of the situation. 

“Ouma!” Shuichi called out before he left.

“What is it? I’m very busy you know, the work of a supreme leader is never done” Kokichi snaps as he turns around to look at the other boy 

“Don’t underestimate me, no matter what I do or how I act. I’m still the ultimate detective. And that in itself is worth something, ultimate titles aren’t given lightly,” he reminded him before he turned around and began walking once again towards the cafeteria leaving a reeling kokichi in his wake as he tried to process what had just happened.

Soon the detective reached the entrance doors of the cafeteria, he took a few deep breaths to calm his anxiety. 

He pushed open the doors and walked in. When he entered the room he could instantly feel all of the eyes of his peers collectively locked onto him. He paid them no mind and simply walked over to the table. He refused to feel embarrassed, he knew that if he acted like nothing was different than the others would also most likely leave him alone about it, and he didn’t really feel like giving them an explanation. 

Most of them soon went back to what they were doing whether that be chatting to one another or simply eating food. Kirumi soon approached him and asked him what he would like to eat from what she had prepared. 

“I- um, I’m not really hungry Kirumi, I just came to meet up with everyone. Thanks anyway though” Shuichi tells her, trying to mask his nerves. 

“Okay, that is fine” she replies in her professional tone she always seemed to have. “Oh, and Shuichi?” she says as she leaves.

“Yeah?” 

“I think you look better without the hat” she says kindly before walking away, most likely to reprimand Kokichi who had arrived some time during their conversation. As Shuichi began thinking of what he could do to help them get out of here his thoughts were interrupted by a loud voice calling out his name

“Hey, Shuichi!” kaito’s loud voice boomed as he sat across from the blue haired boy. 

“Oh, hey Kaito” Shuichi replied as he gave a small wave.

“You doing okay? I know you were pretty shaken up after yesterday.” he asked, a concerned look on his face. Shuichi knew it was supposed to be comforting and make him feel better but he couldn’t help but feel annoyed, he wasn’t a child who needed to be coddled and he really didn’t feel like reliving all the emotions from the day before.

“Im fine” he snapped “and even if I wasn’t I wouldn’t want to to talk about it so drop it.” he said, his brain to mouth filter failing him in the moment. Kaito looked at him surprised, and Shuichi immediately realized what exactly he had just said. 

“Right, sorry for bringing it up,” Kaito said as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

“Oh god, Kaito, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me, I didn’t mean that I’m sorry. I’m just really tired, and stressed” Shuichi began apologizing.

“Nah man, don’t worry about it. It’s not your fault, I can’t really blame you anyway I’m pretty stressed too, emotions are running high for all of us” Kaito told him understandingly. “But if you ever do want to talk, my door is always open for you” he says, giving Shuichi a comforting smile. 

“Thanks Kaito, I’m still really sorry but thanks,” Shuichi said, giving Kaito a small smile. 

“No worries! Anyway, we should probably talk to the others for a bit just to see how they’re doing. If you’re feeling up to that?” Kaito suggested. 

“Not really sorry, I sort of only came here so you guys wouldn’t worry about me. I’m just going to head back to my room for a bit. I’ve been trying to think of ways for us to get out of here so I’m going to keep doing that for a bit. Maybe later” Shuichi told him, his hands fidgeting nervously with the ends of his sleeves under the table.

“Okay well, just don’t stay in there for too long, remember you don’t have to do everything yourself. I believe in you Shuichi!” Kaito said, giving him a pat on the back before going off to talk to Maki despite her protests. 

Shuichi stayed in the cafeteria for a bit longer and ended up talking to a few of the others before he left to go back to his room. He opened the door and walked in, closing it behind him before sitting down on the bed. He decided to think back on everything that had happened yesterday now that there weren’t as many emotions clouding his mind. He knew logically that there was a large chance that another murder would occur before they found a way out so for now he needed to focus on how he could make sure that if there was another murder that he wouldn’t have to rely on contradictions in the statements as there was no guarantee that the killers would accidentally forget or leave evidence that would give then away enough to identify them. 

As he rode this train of thought, his mind wandered back to his conversation with Kokichi from earlier, he knew that he had surprised him. There was no way he didn’t. 

How was it possible that he, the same shuichi who could barely look people in the eye, could know so much about a skilled liar like Kokichi. It was simple really, what Shuichi had told him before he left was true, no matter how he acted he was still the ultimate detective and while he couldn’t lie to people very well, or even tell when or if people were lying to him, he knew enough about psychology that he could knew what certain behaviors meant in certain people.

 It was actually the persona Kokichi put up that ended up telling him the truth. Suddenly he was struck with an idea, he wasn’t sure how or if the person in question would even accept his idea but it was worth a shot. He quickly got up and left his room, his eyes scanning the plaques above to other rooms until his eyes landed on the one he wanted. He walked up to the door and knocked, hoping the person it belonged to was inside. He waited a bit before the door opened. 

“Oh, Saihara-chan? What are you doing here? Did you really miss me that much?” Kokichi asked, the door was only partially open, allowing Shuichi to see only part of Kokichi’s messy room.

“I need you to teach me how to lie,”

#thanks so much for submitting this #i loved this #mod maki talks #void-voyager #i might need more #submission

[lesbianstarlightglimmer]

so my valentines was spent...

at work in 4°F with basically a blizzard running out orders or handing them out of the window and constantly cleaning up slush bc the dumbasses who not only came to get some ~chicky strips and borgers~ in a blizzard BUT DECIDED TO SKIP THE QUICK DRIVE THRU AND WALK INSIDE TO GET FOOD AND HAVE TO CAREFULLY WALK BACK. and they couldnt even be bothered to TRY to stomp their shoes off on the welcome mat thing??? lmfao

but there really wasnt many customers which was especially weird for a sunday (yeah there was a blizzard but the people of my town are utter morons) so there was a lot of down time

that sounds nice but i then spent the rest of the time anxious af about not knowing what to do with all that down time bc ik the managers would start getting upset if things werent getting done like they do normally but like??? you can only clean so much and restock so much??? what do i do then??? fake clean or fake check stock????

anyways that lead up to me during my last hour suddenly realizing my anxiety at work is directly influenced by how my f*ther will get annoyed and snippy if he thinks everyone is sitting around or not doing the task HE thinks needs to be done (even if im working on homework he still acts annoyed that im not doing his thing) and is constantly wanting to know what we are doing/where we are going which leads to me constantly telling my managers “im getting the mop” so they know my whereabouts bc im just so used to being monitored ig

and also on days my moms at work i have to act as her stand in and constantly be at his side asking what he needs me to do to avoid getting passive aggressive remarks or his chihuahua growl or whatever (high pitched but still low and dangerous sounding) for not being his mom or whatever the fuck you wanna call the horrible relationship between him and my mother

and this is an old realization but the reason why im so good with customers is bc living w my f*ther for 23 years has made me exceptionally good at pampering and bending to every whim to pacify customers. im so used to hearing him pretend like hes the only one thats right and as soon as someone else has A Point he makes A Point of shutting us down and saying that hes right--end of story. or not reading the signs and acting like its our fault they (he) didnt understand

oh and he drove me to work today too so i had to spend an awkward 10 minutes w him and he was already in a foul mood bc he took my mom to work and ig when he got back he needed to let addie out to pee so she didnt make a mess of the garage floor and accidentally set off the alarm and was cussing at me to just close the door bc the dog was nosing her way there (never answering my question of whether he thought the roads were safe or not for him to take me) and then we kept having this back and forth argument on the way there (basically he wanted me to keep my phone on me at all times in case the weather got bad so he could call me lmao as if i could answer at work LMAO but i kept trying to explain my pockets were too small for my new phone and somehow he thought NOTHING fit in my pockets and THEREFORE i needed to give him everything except my license and credit card until i finally repeated it enough times ig he finally figured out my WALLET AND KEYS can fit in my pocket but my PHONE cannot but i can safely store it away in the break room.) that was making me nervous bc i could tell he was ready to snap and i was just trying my best to remain calm and explain. 

and i had my near-breakdown or panic/anxiety attack (whichever one involves shortness of breath/squeezing chest/feeling of dread/shaking) at the end of my shift and got scared shitless when i noticed his car in the parking lot about 15 min before i was scheduled to go and so i snuck back to the back to check my messages and make sure he wasnt needing me there asap so i didnt hafta hear him bitch about waiting on me. he said to take my time and “whenever” which is always a precarious place like “whenever you can” or “whenever so long as its like right now” and so once i left i was trying hard not to shake and keep anxiously dumping my day to him so there was no room for him to talk 

also the anxiety killed my stomach and so did the fact they put me on break early so only breakfast foods and the combo of early morning + eating = nausea and gagging through my food and then dinner was ribs which my f*ther took to DROWNING in bbq sauce for his own needs and the fact that those ribs make me sick bc of one time where i had a HORRIBLE headache and ate one bite before getting sick so now my brain associates the taste/smell w getting sick so theres that. oh and sauce in general makes me sick and like i said this shit was DROWNING in bbq sauce. oh and he made egg salad (which i dont eat) and when my mom got back from work he asked her if it tasted right and she said “more mayo and sugar” and he did and the mayo was SO DISGUSTINGLY STRONG SMELLING it nearly tipped my stomach over the edge.

 so all of that combined means i feel sick af...mentally AND physically...

#meows #emetophobia #ask to tag #sorry not to be negative on valentines day i just really need a hug rn :( #lets uh just pretend im a normal person and am upset on valentines bc i dont have a gf or something. ya know so i can be normal or #whatever lol #anyways forget about all that i love my friends happy valentines to you!

[skywillsometimeswrite]

No Gift Exchange Needed

Read it on AO3

The Reds and Blues have been invited to a holiday party on Chorus, and Simmons is nervous but for the conventional reasons.

The holidays never struck particularly good feelings into Richard Simmons. It usually meant hours of forced social interaction with family members he had done last minute research on the night before and constant pressuring from said relatives about parts of his life he hadn’t even thought about yet. (Needless to say, not much praise was met when he mentioned he was going to go into the military.  “If you’re serious about that, it probably wouldn’t hurt for you to eat an extra serving of turkey. You’ll need some meat on those bones.” ) He quickly realized the first Christmas after he joined the military that the holidays would probably never be the same. Just the idea that he may have had the last winter with his parents was enough to send a spike of anxiety through his brain and reaching for the nearest communication device to wish his mom happy holidays. Even though his fears had been confirmed many years later, by the time they were they were less fears and more small interesting observations he had come to realize and accept with very little sadness. He figured it had to do with the fact that his notion of family had drastically changed over time.

But now, of course, the familiar feeling of dread began to pile up in his stomach again as he stared out the window of the transport ship that was beginning its descent to one of the various airports made around Chorus. They were landing in the capital where a large holiday celebration was being held and all the reds and blues had been formally invited to. It had seemed like a good idea at first, a good chance to catch up with the residents of Chorus, maybe get some paperwork done for Kimball. A great vacation from retirement. Now, he was very much regretting the entire thing.

“Dude, chill out. You look like you’re having war flashbacks.”

“Returning to the scene of a gruesome battle will do that to poor youth. Hang in there, Simmons, it gets worse on the ground.”

“Sarge, you are not helping.”

Simmons regretted traveling with the entirety of red team even more. Even if the usual Grif-Sarge arguing was almost comforting. “I’m not having war flashbacks or anything. I’m perfectly fine.”

“Then do you mind not crushing my hand? I swear you’re cutting off the circulation or some shit. You’ve been doing this since we entered Chorus’ star system and I can not feel it anymore.” Grif lifted their interlocked hands into view of the cyborg, causing his non-artificial cheek to flush as he quickly let go of the other’s hand and letting him shake it as he tried to get blood flowing back normally through the limb. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Y-Yeah! Definitely. It just kind of feels like when I used to go to those big obligatory family gatherings, you know? Everyone gets kind of nervous right before those, right?”

“Aw! Well, we did get pretty intimate with the people of Chorus when we grouped up to firmly pound those space pirates’ behinds. It only makes sense you would consider them family. They hold us to a pretty high standard.”

Simmons let out the faintest of groans as he sunk in his seat, imploring to stare out the window again as they were cleared for landing and the ground seemed to get suffocatingly closer.

“Alrighty, Donut, Sarge, stay here because at this rate you will send him into a panic attack.”

“No sería la primera vez.  (Wouldn’t be the first time.) ”

“Can it, tin can.” Grif glared at the, for once, intact robot in the corner as he helped Simmons stand up and guided him outside of the room into the bathroom at the back of the ship where he shut and locked the door. He crossed his arms, standing firmly but his eyes betrayed any hint of anger or annoyance for concern. “You said you were going to be able to handle this.”

“I can! It’s just the initial panic setting in. Once we’re here for a few hours I’ll be calm again in no time.” He was pretty sure some alcohol would help, too. “It’s a good type of anxiety this time, I promise. Nothing like last year with my father.” He caught Grif’s glance drift towards the mirror hanging on the wall, noting how the heavier-set man shifted his weight to block any path to it from Simmons. A pang of guilt washed over Simmons as he wrung his wrists. “I promise.”

With a heavy sigh, Grif’s shoulders fell from their apparently tense position. “Alright. But at the first sign of panic I’ll have us on the first ship out of here.”

There was no use arguing with Grif on these types of matters. All of red team had figured that out pretty quickly when they had settled back on Earth for retirement. Now that we, in his words, could control our own lives for once, he was dead set on making sure we lived them safe and adventure-free. For the most part, anyway. There were no rules against midnight joy rides.

“Grif, I’m not a child. I don’t need you holding my hand through every social interaction.”

“Says the guy that was literally about to make my hand fall off. I expected this entire trip to be almost entirely touch-free considering the company but you completely threw that out the window within the first few hours.” Grif shrugged, watching with a knowing smile as his boyfriend’s face grew a bright red.

“W-Well, we have been dating for quite some time now. I don’t see why you think I would be so shy with affection anymore.” Grif seemed unconvinced by Simmons’ meek attempts at an argument but before he could continue a voice crackled on over the ship’s intercom.

“We have been cleared to deplane all passengers into the capital. Have a nice stay, sirs. Happy holidays.”

“Come on, we don’t want Donut to start any rumors about us being locked in a bathroom for the entirety of the trip.” Grif placed a small kiss on Simmons’ flesh cheek before unlocking the door and leading the other man out to where they weren’t paid much mind as they all focused on getting off the ship and entering the bustling city just waiting for them.

---

Simmons would admit that, unlike his family gatherings when he was younger, this holiday party was arguably the most fun he’s had while as stressed as he was. Although, he could feel the alcohol slowly tearing away that wall of stress as the night went on and his glass got refilled and replacing it with a relaxing calm. Even so, he did not plan on getting drunk tonight and even set Donut on the mission to make sure Grif didn’t either. He knew how much he could get carried away with alcohol when left unsupervised. Especially around Tucker. He had heard many stories of late drunk nights amidst the chaos of the Chorus Civil War when the two of them had been the closest they had probably ever gotten. And those stories explained quite a few grumpier-than-usual-Grif mornings he had experienced during those months.

Holding his first drink of water all night, Simmons stepped out onto one of the many balconies the capital building had, taking a deep breath as the overwhelming noise became muffled behind him when the door clicked shut. The crisp night air felt nice on his remaining skin, refreshing almost.

“I probably should have figured you would be ducking out on the festivities.”

The voice made him jump, water sloshing out of his cup and landing on the concrete below him as his head whipped over to look at the source. His panic subsided when he saw the red hair, practically glowing green eyes, and sparkling teal dress.

“Carolina! What are… What are you doing out here?”

She shrugged, walking over to him and leaning against the railing next to him. “Just had to step away for a bit. I thought I had gotten used to the Tucker and Caboose’s nonsense but I forgot it amplified by ten when you guys were in the picture.”

Simmons chuckled a bit, sinking into the collar of his shirt. One of the first things Sarge had done when he spotted the two blues was that they had arrived early only to plot against them. Tucker argued for a few minutes trying to explain to him that both of their shuttles arrived at the exact same time but we had just taken way too long while Sarge interrogated the pilot. He had a point, but it added more fuel to the fire. Kimball had offered to send a larger transport ship to pick them all up but Simmons was grateful they opted to go separately. Tucker would have undoubtedly teased Grif and him the entire way there.

While the two teams weren’t completely split up they lived in two separate towns a few miles apart in the broken states of what remained of America on Earth. While the blues shared a house, Grif and Simmons had moved in together in a small two bedroom house with Sarge, Donut, and Lopez as their surrounding neighbors. They still all got together on a biweekly basis to catch up and have their movie nights, but they had more or less moved on with their lives.

“Yeah, brings back memories though, doesn’t it?” He attempted to lean against the railing like she was, his composure far less cool than hers.

“Yeah,” she sighed, her face briefly betraying her more somber emotions before it settled back into its soft stoic state once again. “So, how have you been? Everything good on the dating front with Grif?”

He suddenly felt a lot less relaxed, his mind slamming him back into the present and he lost her gaze to stare into the remaining water in the cup. Leave it to Carolina to make him unintentionally nervous. “Uh, yeah. It’s been about two years now. I think it’s been going well?” He really fucking hoped it was.

Dexter Grif had changed a lot over the time that Simmons first met him in basics. He was a lot more compassionate and caring, although if he thought hard enough he could say he had always been like that. He was more active and less dismissing of issues, and he was more proactive than Simmons could ever remember him being. He even cleaned up around the house sometimes! Grif was an open book by now with his emotions and thoughts -- even if he didn’t mean to be half the time -- so Simmons shouldn’t really question how their relationship was going. But Simmons’ hadn’t changed as much as Grif had, it seemed. Sure he was a hell of a lot more confident than he used to be, but you couldn’t take his anxiety away and still call him Richard “Dick” Simmons.

“That’s good.” There was a lull before she spoke again, “Hey, are you okay? You seem… paler than usual.”

Whatever color his skin had been presenting was overwhelmed with a pink color at the comment. “Of course! I’m fine! Psh, why wouldn’t I be? I’m not nervous or anything.”

“So you’re nervous?”

“I just said I wasn’t nervous!” He looked at her unconvinced face and quickly sunk down into his shirt once again. “Maybe a little.”

“What could you possibly be nervous about? I don’t think there was any gift exchange planned.”

He managed a little chuckle from that. He had brought a gift. He just didn’t know how it was going to be received. A wire seemed to connect in his metal head and he stood up, gripping his cup tightly as he spoke. “Do you think you could help me with something?”

-----

Grif was not as drunk as he wanted to be right now.

Grif wanted to regret tomorrow morning and just snuggle with Simmons while he told him this would happen and read his books or did paperwork or whatever he did when Grif got massive hangovers.

Grif was very annoyed that he wasn’t as drunk as he should have been three hours into a party with free drinks at the bar for war heroes and Tucker edging him on.

He was even more annoyed with the reason why he wasn’t as drunk as he should’ve been.

Or  whom.

Donut was draped across Grif’s shoulders, absolutely wasted (as Grif should be), after his fifth fruity drink of the night. And every time Grif tried to order any sort of beverage -- alcoholic or not -- Donut told the bartender to forget it or he chugged the drink himself. Needless to say, he was absolutely parched right now. It didn’t help that both his sister and Tucker were groping each other, drunk off their asses right next to him. Where the hell was Simmons when he needed him?

“Dexter Grif!” 

The shout made everyone at the bar jump as they looked back to see a seemingly furious Carolina marching towards them.  This can’t be good.  Grif thought as Donut was shoved off his back into some poor stranger’s lap and the back of Grif’s suit jacket was tugged violently. He was dragged off the stool and sent backpedaling as he was pulled away.  At least it gets me away from Donut.

“Carolina, what the fuck are you doing?” He asked, mildly annoyed, as he struggled not to be choked by his own shirt. What could he have possibly done to render this kind of manhandling at a holiday party?

“Whoa, hey, I said to get him over here not kill him in the process!” Grif recognized Simmons’ voice as Carolina swung him to be face to face with his boyfriend. He looked back to see her smug face as she gave them a thumbs up and a wink.

“What the fuck is going on?” He asked as he turned back to face Simmons who went from concern to sheepish. “Simmons? What happened? Are you okay?” Suddenly his own plights were forgotten as a million different scenarios popped into his head, minuscule to earth-shattering, that might have happened in the hours he was away from his side.

“N-nothing's happened. Not yet at least.”

“Simmons-” As soon as Grif opened his mouth Simmons looked up, making eye contact for the first time and causing him to lose his words. The look on his face transported Grif to all those times years ago when there was no promise they would make it back, and they always did.

The look that inexplicably said:  You’re here with me.

“Grif, I-I wanted to ask you something. I know you aren’t one for tradition or sap or anything but-” He fumbled with something in his hands before he cracked the smallest of smiles. Grif felt he was watching in slow motion as his boyfriend knelt down in front of him.

“Simmons, what are you doing?” He whispered more to himself as he couldn’t help but glance around him, noticing the crowd that had formed.

“Dexter Grif, uh, I know this is sudden and I probably should have thought this through more but, uh,” he revealed what was in his hands, a maroon velvet box now perched in his palm as he opened it, revealing the ring pop inside. “Will you explore the greatest of life’s mysteries with me?”

Grif stood there for a long moment, his face unreadable, while the entire surrounding area was dead silent. Then his face cracked into a grin, a snort escaping that grew into full-on laughter. He bent down to take Simmons’ face in his hands, his own wearing a warm smile. “You are the cheesiest fucking dork.”

“So?”

“Of course I will, you nerd. But we both know that ring isn’t going to last very long.”

Cheering was met when they kissed, along with Sarge’s disapproving grumbles and Tucker’s distant “Get a room!”. Maybe it was good Grif wasn’t drunk, who knows what he would have said. Besides, who needs alcohol when love can do the same thing?

#sky writes #works: no gift exchange needed #red vs blue #grimmons #fluff #richard simmons #rvb #simmons #dexter grif #grif

[eagesoldartblog]

fantasy au w/ lewthur or lewvithur where one or more of them is royalty/a high ranking noble? no pressure but id love to see your take on it :0

I PUT IN SO MUCH TIME INTO THIS, BEcause this is an actual fic I want to write, so THANK YOU for this. B U T this actually has two parts, because,,, It became ten pages lONG. 

Claiming The Prince’s Heart

Sunlight beams through fleece clouds, filtering its rays through the thickets of yellowing canopy, and shining down on the blanket of red leaves coating the forest floor. A torrent of a river is not too far off, streaming water that was so clear and reflective that you could make the stars out in them. Accompanied by her own heavy steps, and the prince’s behind her. It’s been awhile since I’ve gotten to come out here, I’ll have to make sure to give him my thanks. Of course..

“Dame Vivi,” She turns, head bowed, smiling. Unable to help the pull of her lip, it wasn’t every day that she got to see her highness. Especially not like this. With his hands clasped tightly together and eyes darting around every which way, a hint of rosiness blossoming in his cheek- whether it was from the mild chill or his utter delight on being let outside for once- well, it wouldn’t have made a difference. “Thank you for accompanying me out here today. I promise that it has left me with nothing less than gratitude and ecstasy, I will make sure you are rewarded handsomely for your sacrifice-”

“Your highness, with all due respect,” 

“Yes?” He continues to smile, but now it is almost perfect, a replication of a doll. 

“You dont have to address my like other nobles, your highness.” 

Arthur noticably deflated. His prim and proper smile dropping with a sigh and he sags forward, “Thank the good heavens.. I was wondering when you’d give me the go ahead..” He mumbles, pressing his fingers into his cheeks and forcibly massaging them. The ache must have been unbearable! Vivi snorts into her palm- accidentally bumping her nose in too far.

“You know, you don’t have to wait for me,” she explains, and part of her wonders how many times he has, but with a flick of her wrist, and grabbing his attention, she adds, “you could just begin to address me casually as soon as we step out.”

“And let the other guards and ad-advisors think you’re a seduc-ductress in disguise?” Arthur crosses his arms, nodding his head back to the castle with a bitterness clouding his eyes, Vivi only laughed more, “Nah, I’ll pass.”

“Haha! How funny. To think!” Taking a step forward, Vivi takes his wrist and holds it up, pulling him into her, leading him into a twirl, “The one dame they have been sending you out with every season is the one slowly undoing all of their precious work!” His disdain melts away, and he falls with her elegantly- he must have learned the dance recently. Vivi lets go of Arthur and drapes herself dramatically against a nearby tree, feigning despair, “Oh, the tragedy!”

A hand flashes out before her, and despite the anxiety Vivi could feel from its slacked position a dazzling warmth dancing across his face instead, “The Greeks will have a thrill recounting our t-tales.”

“Our downfalls,” She takes his, pulling him into the clearing.

Bad idea, Arthur’s eyes dart in every which direction, “O-our triumphs,” before his expression shifts and- 

“Into the great fall of the Hidorian kingdom!” They sing in usion, before Arthur bursts into a fit of cackling giggles, muffled by his own hand slapping a hand over his mouth. Raising her eyebrow, Vivi couldn’t help but laugh as well. But what made him this hysterical..? Dread? Is a war on the way?

“Well, i’m glad to hear you’re still in good spirits, your highness..” Standing straight, she returns to his side and places a hand on his shoulder- ignoring how he stiffens, “But you don’t usually joke about .. that. Is something up? Everything going alright with your healer?”

A shallow breath, and he stands straight. Any amount of cheeriness they just had vanished in an instant. “… Ah, yeah, it’s fine..” Frowning, Vivi crosses her arms, able to tell by the shudder in Arthurs shoulders that there was bound to be more. Swinging around- far too exaggerated than one would ever assume of a prince, his voice spills out of his mouth faster than he thought, “Well! things are-! Uh They are k-kinda difficult! But-! But, it’ll be alright in the end. No- nothing.. Will fall or- be destroyed or- or .. anything!”

“Hm.” Arthur freezes in his place, eyes wide and lit like candle flames, tucking her hands behind her back, Vivi leans forward barely an inch, “I won’t push if you desire, but what do you mean? Surely something must be wrong for you to talk about the end of our name.” Slowly approaching him, Vivi watches his shoulders ride up into his ears and his eyes dart from the trees, the grass and finally back to her. As if worried that someone else will hear. 

Cringing, Arthur bites his lip, “Well… I- we… “ In the distance a twig snaps- most likely from a squirrel- but Arthur jolts hard and jumps into a ridiculously panicked pose, eyes wide and eyebrows furrowed together, breath rapid. 

“Your highness,” he flinches again, gaze shifting one last time before realization dawned on him… how ludicrous he was being. “This… you cannot speak a word of this to anyone. Understand?” 

With a nod, Vivi lets her arms cross and her eyes soften- hopefully lending an ounce of peace to Arthur. 

“We-we..  figured I am still a hopeless romantic,” A rush of blood filling his cheeks, averting his gaze, “The priestess worries I’ve been .. st-struck by cupid’s arrow, and considering the curse… I… “ Arms folding, he clutches the fabric tightly and gnaws on his lip- hard enough to be noticeable, and Vivi resists the urge to warn him against it.

But the fear that noticeably coursed through his body. Hard shadows reflecting that onto the otherwise vibrant scenery around them. A cold wind slamming into them at the same time. For good reason too.

That wouldn’t stop her. Moving closer, Vivi resists the urge to take him by the shoulders and hold him close in a hug, “Yes? Did someone catch your eye?” 

Arthur pauses, eyeing her carefully. His eyebrows furrowed together and for half a second his lip quivered. 

Before his smile- lacking anything real- returns and his shoulders sink, “You can say that, Dame Vivi. Hopefully in the coming years, it won’t be an issue anymore.”

“Why’s that?”

Arthur tilts his head, “You ask a lot, don’t you?”

“When I hear any news concerning my prince and my kingdom, I must know every detail. To quell my aching heart.” Her heart was racing, slamming against her chest. Whatever fear she felt wouldn’t find its way onto her face, however. Not when he was already under this stress. 

He didn’t relax. Instead the artificial structure of his posture and expression had become especially more fabricated. “A witch is on his way to the kingdom tonight. Do you by chance recall the name, Lewis Pepper?”

“Lewis Pepper of Paradiso. A promising Witch who stumbled upon the kingdom at the age of five. Possessing the great prowess of a Shaman- able to communicate and control the unknown realm with minor complication. A prodigy who had been taken in by the monks to properly train and learn.” Vivi recites, spouting off the information like it was her own name. Of course she would know his name. All Knights and Dames are required to learn the names and attributes of all known magic users- whether affiliated with religion or not. 

Magic never fails, and its power of the three realms is even more so. But harnessable by human beings? Humans who are driven to madness over a single thought and possessing ambitions beyond themselves? 

Leaving those of that nature unchecked is a death sentence. Everyone knew this.

Arthur tilts his head, “I’m pleased, then I won’t have to give another explanation. Tonight, he will be arriving here, and we will be performing a ritual. One that will hopefully cure me of this dreaded hex.”

“What-!” Vivi gasps. Mouth hanging open, several thoughts jumbling up and smacking together in a buzzing train of thought, “But-!…” Questions are about to fly, but Arthurs expression shifts from empty kindness and content to a look that a testy tyrant would wear. Daring her. Vivi grinds her teeth, takes a short breath, and straightens up, “Ahem, my dearest apologies your highness. That is excellent news, and I am delighted to hear it. However, I do have concerns.”

“And what would those concerns be?” 

Taking a deep breath, Vivi looks him in the eyes, and doesn’t flinch when she meets Arthur’s face again, “I mean no disrespect, but hasn’t previous attempts at this exact thing been a failure? Not only that, but you must be aware of his… condition.”

“Whatever do you mean?” 

“Reverend Pepper isn’t completely human.”

Arthur’s eyes widen for hardly a second, before he closes his eyes and nods, “We are well aware of his inhumane status. In fact, during the ritual, several more priests and witches- all under our own name- will be overlooking the rituals. As well as a charge of Dames and Knights.”

She hums, and her shoulders sag, nodding as her mind begins to drift, picturing the worst case scenarios, “Of course. I can only imagine that there would be ample security.”

“Dame Vivi.” 

She straightens up again.

“Would you like to join the onlookers tonight?” 

Heart stillen, Vivi gulps. 

“I would feel much safer with you present.” 

A carriage rolls across the dirt path - its wheels filled with creaking and its occupants spoke silent chatterings with hushed whispers - slowly approaches the secret entrance to the grand Hidorian palace. A sheltered and hidden part of the castle, where no civilian should be able to locate and travel inside without the consultant of the guards and council. 

Now, a great gathering of guards, priests and scribes were settled around its gate. The great councils and advisors of the king and the prince stood tall. Lacking care for how their fine robes draped against the ground and was stained by its dirt. Of course, none would dare mention it in the presence of the King and the Prince. 

Those two stood in the front and center of the gathering, watching the carriage roll through without a sound. 

Arthur shuffles in his spot, fists tightly pressed to his hips. Beads of sweat threaten to slide down his cheek as his anxiety grows with each creak of those wheels. Lip pulled in a nervous frown, Arthur spares the king a look, “Your majesty-”

“That isn’t my name, Arthur.” 

Uncle. Arthur spares his uncle a look, and he coughs back the urge to mention how that was inappropriate. But then again- who was going to tell them how to address one another? “Fine- Lance, uh-” As the words come out, it became abundantly clear that he didn’t have a single clue on what to ask the shorter man- who now peers over to him with an eyebrow raised, which was in itself very reminiscent of how he looked much earlier in life when his brother was king and he was a simple black smith who didn’t take anything from anyone and-

“Arthur.” 

He swallows back the urge to whine, forcing his gaze back to the carriage. He can almost see the outline of the Witch through the sun kissed tarps- and god did he look massive. Arthurs shoulders sank along with his heart and finally his brain spits out something, “Just- just nervous. I- ahem, I worry if this ritual will work, or if there will be any spies within their group or-” 

“There is no need to worry, your highness.” A priestess takes a step beside him, and her comforting presence does nothing to take away the unease on his shoulders. He meets her gaze, and it’s obvious she feels the same. It’s been this way ever since their last.. meeting. Blond hair in tight coils against her scalp, and her look of worry even more prominent, Madam Chloe continues, “According to the advisors, only Reverend Pepper will be present during the ritual.” 

“And his companions will not be coming forth into the castle.” An advisor- Duet- mentions from behind him. Arthur spares them a glance, and instead of the usual look of stoic content, there was twinges of worry lacing their features. Much like the rest of the Knights and Dames, as well as the priests and nuns and … everyone. 

It did nothing to ease the stress in his shoulders, but it wasn’t like it wasn’t expected. It was always this way. Arthur reminds himself, switching his attention back to the carriage, which finally stopped. Its Coach man lifting the door that held the key to his own salvation. 

Stepping out, was truly a monster of a man. Dressed in dark robes and wooly hair pulled back in a conservative manner, and glassy purple eyes shifting to meet his gaze. This time Arthur couldn’t even begin to process the sheer magnitude of him. Not only that but how… terrifying it was to be in his presence. He’s heard many times of what this man looks like, how tall he is, and how strong he is due to his inhuman nature. Except now it was real, and it was triple his expectation. 

But despite that, somehow, Reverend Pepper had… such a gentleness to his eye. A calm smile and his presence seemed to exude peace. All despite being a witch. Arthur gulps back his anxiety, straightening up, and looks him in the eye. 

“Welcome, Reverend Pepper. We are humbled to make your acquaintance. Was the trip smooth and stress free.” 

Pepper, chuckling the smallest bit, nods, “It was delightful to take in the scenery of your kingdom your majesty. It truly is the city of gold. However, if I may, you do not refer to me by that title. Lewis will do.” 

Arthur’s throat tightened, nodding a bit too quickly, “Lewis, of course. Please call me Arthur.” He takes a step forward and holds out his hand, suddenly overly aware of his actions when several eyes pin to his back, both from his side and Lewis’s. 

One must never knowingly take the hands of a caster, for they may be able to grab your soul through your hand and make you their servant. The lesson repeats in his head seven times before he noticed Lewis tilting his head, amused. 

“My, I didn’t take you for someone so trusting,” Lewis says, thoughtfully watching him and- to much of the horror of everyone else- takes Arthur’s hand firmly, “Thank you for allowing me the pleasure to help you, your highness. I will not fail you.”

As the King, Prince, and Witch spoke to one another, the tense and active air growing more screwed up and yet relaxed with the easy conversation. Neither the king nor Arthur paying the frightful bunches any mind. 

Madam Chloe feels a presence beside her, and eyes boring into her. Whether or not Duet wanted to speak to her, she didn’t turn her head to him. Keeping her hands clasped together and her eyes trained on every movement the prince made. 

Finally, a low whisper, “Do they seem untrustworthy to you, Madam Chloe?”

“No,” she admits, swallowing her tongue back, her fists tighten, “no, the chances of him doing anything is slim. I promise.” Nothing emitted from the man to show otherwise. No malice, no hatred, and all metallic clinks and trinkets within his robes weren’t the angry and swift voice of fallen victims, but instead a smooth, calming voice of a healer. And yet, her stomach twists and folds into knots, and Duet seemed to notice. If they were the only ones present, there’s a chance they would have placed a hand on her shoulder. Her mouth burned, but she kept her teeth ground shut. 

Duet must have heard it too, because they turn to her and watch her twitchy movements. They sigh, and turn to the King and Prince. “Your majesty, your highness.” The two turn back to him, King Lance’s expression unreadably gruff and Prince Arthur’s so obviously panicked. From behind them, Reverend Pepper leaned forward with interest- as well as everyone else. Duet continues on, “Madam Chloe and I need a moment to discuss some important matters. With your permission, may we take our leave?” 

King Lance stares at them fixedly, appearing uncaring for a single moment until it occurs to Madam Chloe just how much he seemed to debate that thought in his head. A glint being her only hint, and the rest being the grueling sensation of his aura. Tearing into her like paper. 

Do not lash out. She reminds herself, hiding her twisting fists out of sight. Only able to hope that he wouldn’t suspect anything from the two. 

“Granted,” The king says, snapping Chloe out of her spur and her eyes widen a fraction before she reminds herself to stay calm, unwavering. “Take one of the Dames or Knights with you.” 

Duet holds up a hand, “Your majesty, that wouldn’t be necessary-” 

“Take one with you. For security measures.” King Lance repeats, and this time they both knew that defying him further would end up with them in their deathbeds. Bowing their head, Duet nods.

“Of course, your Majesty. Please forgive my ignorance.” 

Chloe lifts her head more, tearing her gaze away from the king, and landing on the prince. Arthur. Who stared at her, with so much fear hidden in his eyes, fear and terror. 

I’m sorry, Arthur. 

A knight walks up to them, “Shall we be on our way?” he asks, and Chloe doesn’t respond, allowing her eyes to downcast, guilt welling up in her throat like glue. 

“Of course.” 

__

A woman was shackled to the wall. Her feet shackles as well. Her head hung low, and she didn’t move much besides for her gentle breathing- attempting to not breathe in too harshly and activate her sinuses. These dungeons were far too dirty to have breathable air. A harsh stench of a decaying body reached her nose, as well as the freely spoken words of the guards and knights of who to alert. 

”We failed to keep this one alive, what should we explain to the Captain?”

”Explain that it was the magician. It appears they casted a spell on themselves to ease them into Death’s embrace.”

The first knight scoffs, or laughs, she couldn’t tell. ”A coward’s way out, I tell you. Can’t even die with dignity.”

She cared to disagree, searching through the murky depths of her own vision to take in her own clothes. Stained with blood, powder, and losing the glow of protection she casted onto herself. Soon, she’s going to become hungry, and shrivel up in pain, wishing for anything to eat. If the Hidorian kingdom was like any other. They would leave her to starve. Or, perhaps keep her hanging onto life for as long as possible, to get answers, to show her origin, to- 

Heavy clicks fills her ears, and the knights who were posted fell silent. The scrap of metal gliding against metal alluding to the possibility that they were bowing in respect. ”Advisor Duet, It is a pleasure to see you here.”

”As well as to you. I have heard reports of a new magician dressed in green being locked away in here. May I see her?” Her blond hair falls in front of her eyes as she peers down to her stained clothes- meant to blend in with the nature around her. How could they possibly think it’s strictly green?

”Y-yes! Fo-forgive us for the conditions of her cellar, we-.. We didn’t have enough room to hold her in a prope-”

”There is no need to explain to me, I know that it isn’t customary to bring prisoners to proper rooms when one had just perished. Besides, she is in need of cleansing and washing, isn’t she?”

 The knights are silent for a second, ”Y-yes, she is still covered in… magic. D-Duet! Shall we accompany you? To ensure she doesn’t pull a nasty trick-”

A laugh, low and gentle, ”That will not be necessary. Her cellar is close, am I wrong? You do not need to follow after me then. At the very least, feel free to escort me to her. I do not want to keep her waiting.” The smug tone only brought a look of a shriveled man with a snarky grin across their face. She could spit. Spit in their face for all she cared.

”Of course, Duet. We will be you to her right now.” Her arms and muscles stiffen, clenching her eyes shut, she takes a deep breath- despite the rot filling her lungs- and holds it. Steeling herself for anything. 

”Glorious.”

Three sets of footsteps, one considerably softer than the others, traverse the dim and dirty halls to her cellar. Sure enough, three silhouettes appear in front of the bars. She didn’t lift her head. Able to feel their gaze on her, locking her in place. 

“You two may disperse now. I will handle all proceedings coming forth.” The smug voice, low and nasally, ripples through the cellar just in time for one of the grated doors to open. Much to the displeasure of the two knights, but she can imagine that Duet simply waved them off, because in the next few minutes, the two knights leave. All that was left was Duet, herself, and the dingy cellar. The chains holding her grind together awkwardly. 

For a second, there’s only silence. 

“Well, hello there, young lady. Or would you rather I refer to you differently?” 

Her jaw clenches and tightens, lungs feeling full, tight, ready to burst, and without her own input, she’s looking up at them. Cheeks full of air that squeezed past her lips. They quirk an eyebrow, twisting their head. 

Despite the darkness shrouding them both, it was clear they were smiling- but if it was for contentness or asserting, she couldn’t tell. “I wonder what you’re doing that for? Mind to release your breath and explain it to me. I’m eager to learn.” 

She doesn’t. Chest tight and instead sucking in more breath. 

“Ah, I see. You don’t want to speak to me, do you?”

Her wrists pull, blood pumping. 

Their smile drops, and they nod solemnly, “Understood. Well, I will make my case quickly for you then. If you wish to ask for clarification, I would advise you to open your mouth, or show the feistiness you possessed earlier during your capture.” 

Shit, that’s right, it dawns onto her again, and her eyebrows furrowing together from discomfort. She had been screaming earlier, as dames and guards overwhelm her, pin her to the ground in the library. Snatching her tools and forcing her into submission. All in front of the Prince she was trying so hard to take down. It wasn’t her fault-! Him becoming king would result in the end of the world-! No one would allow that- Duet takes a step forward, eyes training into hers, and in retaliation she squeezes them shut. 

“Rest assured, I have done everything in my power to find a way to ensure your safety, young lady. However, the king is far more stubborn than you are, and he doesn’t typically take much mercy to magicians and sorcerers such as yourself.” Duet hums a bit to themself, “As you can perhaps imagine why. The use of magic to manipulate the supernatural is a skill that is feared by many, especially since magic never fails. You understand why the use of magic is highly regulated and in some cases, entirely outlawed, correct?” 

They wait for a few seconds, their smiles returning, “It’s because a magician, such as yourself, assassinated the rulers of various empires and kingdoms around us. Including our previous ruler, who single handedly brought our kingdom to its golden age. Your presence, your assassination of our prince, is nothing but proof that those laws are neceassary.” 

She knew, she’s always known. FIguring out magic was hard enough as it is, but with the restrictions, its only more demanding of its user. Her lungs started to burn.

“You are to be executed by dawn, do you know that?” 

It slams into her, like a brick. Any remnant of calm shatters like glass and she gasps. Choking, sputtering, gasping for air as her head spins. Executed? Why- Duet takes a step back to dodge the spit flying from her mouth. 

“For attempted assassination of our next ruler. Surely, you would have understood that when you came into our kingdoms’ courts and violated our most sacred rules.” The smugness returned, she was in his court, and as far as she knew, there was little she could do. She peers up at him, desperation lacing her oxygen deprived brain, begging. She couldn’t tell if Duet was pitying her at that moment. “But, this isn’t the first time a magic user has entered our kingdom. And you will quickly learn that it is due to myself that they’re still here.”

What..? 

“We have a Dame who is quite famous for her work, and I know that she uses magic. It is in her blood, able to summon and borrow power from a god among animals that has sworn itself to her family. It took a long while to convince the King to allow her, but because of her good image, her new found status, it was easier to convince him to allow you a chance.”

She blinks up at him, confused, and mouth hanging agape with questions and worries she couldn’t begin to fathom. 

“The prince is quite nervous, and is in need of a priest to help him rest his worries, and figure out how to live his life with a hex plaguing him. I figured, who would be better to help him than a magician turned priestess.”

“A … a priestess..? Me…?”

“Of course. Living a life of celibacy, honor and honesty. All in exchange for not perishing tomorrow. How does that sound?” 

“F… fuck you!” She spits, grinding her teeth as rage fills her skin and boils out of her ears, surely her expression was akin to death itself, but Duet seemed entirely unphased. “I won’t do shit for you! I’d rather watch this kingdom burn to the ground with every monster in it-!” Her voice fell silent. She blinks, eyebrows furrowing as her mouth hangs open, starting to move but nothing coming out. A painful, stretched feeling overtaking her vocal chords and leaving her throat raw and strained. She tried to scream, but it only worsened the pain. 

“I wouldn’t recommend you continue, miss,” Duet says, his tone harsh and cold, uncaring, “regardless if you live for another century under the oaths of a god or die at a cross made of bones, the only tongue you will speak is truth.” Each word felt like a knife, slicing into her slowly, forcing her body to still and numb, “Only one secret will die with you, the secret of this spell, and your inability to resist the burn of hidden words on your tongue. It’ll feel much more like a hot coal in your teeth the longer you hold it back.” 

Her body shivers, crying out as her voice suddenly comes back, stinging tears falling from her eyes as her body sags and her mouth starts to burn. 

“Now,” Duet says silently, “why don’t you start with your name?”

Her stomach and arms lurch, heart pounding and nearly jumping out of her chest, up her throat and onto the floor. Before she trembles, and letters connect and fall out before she can stop them- try to.

“Ch-chloe..” 

“Madam Chloe,” Duet watches her knowingly, noticing how her arms shook and the way her jaw clenches and almost smiling. God she could rip that fucking face off of their skull if she could. Chloe’s mind screams, fists tighter than ever before. Her body has never contained so much anger, hatred, and regret than it has right now. Before being captured she could scream and fight her heart out, but priesthood was a very different ballgame. And it’s one that is filled with bitterness and fury beyond anyone’s comprehension. Even more so now that her lungs are filled with ash and the ember of a tongue has grown worse. 

But a secret isn’t a secret when it’s given to her. 

“Prince Arthur has fallen in love.” 

“Your highness,” Lewis’s voice finds him through the swarming ocean of madness and confusion, bringing his mind back to the candle lit room, and to the heavy chain around his neck. The weight of it pulling his neck down, and reminding him of how small he felt in the circle. Arthur opens his eyes to confirm if he was still there. Maybe to see if his daydream was real. 

Of course it wasn’t real. Arthurs brain reminds him, staring down at the chalk covering the floor around him, the blood red glow of the candles casting hard shadows everywhere, Lewis isn’t here to help you escape, Arthur. He’s here to cure you. Why would you even think that up in the first place? His shoulders tense up like his stomach- soured and sucked in so much it was painful, and he swallows back harshly, shooing away the wishes clouding his head more and more. 

Arthur clenches his eyes shut and allows the resulting thunder of his muscles attempt at clearing his thoughts. And when the lingering whispers of hope refused to stop, his logic bellowed. He wouldn’t ever ride away on a horse, clutching the hand of his dame and- and certainly not following the lead of this kind and gentle Witch. The grassy plains and the warm sky was nothing but a fantasy that he desperately wished to crawl away in. Maybe if he prayed hard enough, Lewis would hear and grant his worries and pull him out of that depraved room and from those begging eyes. He didn’t need to look to see those sharp gazes boring into him. Hell, Arthurs surprised he doesn’t have scars from the piercing stares- they nearly burned into his skin!

A throat clears, “Your highness,” and Arthur’s attention snaps up to Lewis, who somehow still looked peaceful even with the deranged lighting. He smiles warmly, taking Arthurs left hand- which was a trembling, shaking fist- and slowly painting on the symbols against the top. The coldness of the paint made him flinch. Lewis didn’t say anything, “You seem more nervous than before, is this bothering you?” 

“Y-you could say that.” Arthur mumbles, glaring at the hand in Lewis’s grasp and trying to will it to stop shaking as much as it did, but his words only seemed to worsen it. Much to his surprise, Lewis gently begins to massage his palm and wrist, and Arthur’s heart jumps into his throat. 

“It is understandable, Arthur.” Lewis murmurs, words already beginning to soothe him, “These types of procedures do bring out the worst of the imagination.” His eyes flicker up, a small grin dancing on his lips- or was it the light? Arthur blinks rapidly but before he could try and look and check, Lewis was done, and shuffling back to his original spot.

His heart raced, whatever it was. Arthur couldn’t even begin to wonder why the smallest look was sending his brain spiralling. Control yourself, Lewis is just- just trying to comfort you! Nothing more!

Yeah. Yeah, that’s it. Just-just keep reminding yourself of that, okay? Okay.

As soon as he was back in his proper place, Lewis sat up straight and nodded to his right. There was two persons there sat behind two large drums, and upon his signal, they slammed their mallets against it. It’s beat so loud, Arthur could feel it in every part of his body. His mind going numb, and Lewis began to explain,=.

“Tonight, I will draw this curse out from your body and into the amulet you bare now.” His voice was different, commanding, fierce, “Whatever demon is held in your soul, Arthur Kingsmen, it will be gone by dawn’s end.”

#mystery skulls animated #msa #mystery skulls fanfic #arthur kingsmen #vivi yukino #lewis pepper #fantasy au #royalty au #eage writing

[minidigidestined]

Fatal Mistake

CW: One shot sfw vore story with implied fatal and digestion. Sadistic pred and mostly unwilling prey, fearplay. Very whump-y. N/S/F/W blogs do not interact.

A quick little "AU" babble of two of my Digimon OCs from the POV of my digidestined OC featuring one of her friend digimon, Voltboutamon, as the pred. When the human servant to the illustrious digimon lord makes a messy mistake in front of her master's guests during a dinner party, he becomes enraged and has finally had enough of her ineptitude. Not so fun hijinks ensue.

I made sure to smooth out the creases in my apron and dress, my breath short and strained. I knew that for something like this, my lord needed me to look perfectly presentable--I was as much a part of the setting as the crystal wineglasses or gilded chairs, after all.

I adjusted the bloom of curls atop my head and steadied myself the best I could. I knew he could detect my fear and discomfort miles away and while it was usually a delight to him, tonight the smallest sign of irritation could be fatal.

I pushed open the heavy doors to the dining room, exhaling anxiety as another servant bustled past me with empty trays.

"Good luck," She mouthed as I emerged, the expensive scent of the guests' cuisine wreathing around me. I clutched the bottle of wine tightly in my hands, speedwalking out into the elegantly decorated chamber, the diamond chandelier casting ominous candlelight out over the decadent scene.

My lord sat at the head of the head of the table, perfectly poised in regal silence among the chatter. He cut an imposing figure, all sharp edges, straight lines and the finest silks. His red eyes burned like twin hot coals, his clawed fingers wrapped around the stem of his empty goblet. He impatiently tapped the stone floor with the toe of his boot, almost looking bored even though it was his affair.

His crimson eyes found me near instantly, locking onto my own earthy gaze and sending a chill up my spine. I bypassed his guests with shaky steps, robotically greeting and inquiring as to their pleasure. The stern line of his mouth relaxed into a self-satisfied smirk as I approached, his food still steaming and untouched.

I approached his side, his figure looming over me a good seven feet even while sitting. He leaned back luxuriously, his long legs crossed at the ankle.

"Human. You kept me waiting. I hope you brought the good wine." He said languorously.

"Yes, Lord Voltaboutamon. Only the best for you and your patrons." I heard the tremble in my voice and felt dread curl in my chest like a frightened child.

"Good." His tone was almost indulgent, his smirk all dark edges. "Get on with it then, woman."

I swallowed, my throat thick as he lowered his goblet, as royal as everything else in his gothic noir estate. I hastily uncorked the bottle, feeling more than one pair of eyes on me. With shaking hands, I lifted the wine to pour, praying to anyone willing to listen and--

My mind blanked into white hot panic when my wrist twitched, a product of anxiety and damaged motor skills. The wash of shame and fear froze me in place as the wine, dark as blood, spilled over me, my digimon lord and the floor.

I saw the moment rage blossomed in his breast, as dark as the splashed wine as his easy posture and icy smirk twisted into unadulterated anger. His eyes narrowed to thin slits--blazing hellfire--mouth curling into a snarl, his edges sharpening instantaneously.

"You stupid little brat," He hissed between his teeth, fangs gleaming dangerously. "Can you ever do a damn thing right?"

At his scathing tone I flashed back to his effortless grace in the art of killing. Back to blood and marrow and incomprehensible danger. Back to fear and insecurity and nightmares.

He's not like that...not with me, not anymore. He’s just playing it up in front of the guests. I repeat it to myself like a mantra, my entire sense of self on white-hot fire. No matter what I told myself, I knew the truth though. I knew how important tonight was and of course I fumbled it, like always. 

Stupid.

He rose to his full height, his second pair of arms unfolding behind him like a reaper's scythes, tail uncoiling from his waist and twisting about in a hypnotic dance, like a snake ready to strike.

Yes, my master is as beautiful and deadly as a serpent, quick as a whip and more clever than most...if not all. Despite his lanky build, he seemed to encompass the entire room with his presence alone, his brilliance demanding absolute attention. I saw a certain hunger twist his features, the lust for violence in that moment carving out a hole in his very heart.

I watched his face, unable to look away as that hole began to fill.

"I have had enough of your fumbling and bumbling, maid," He sneered, his voice righteous and cruel. "I've given you chance after chance, and still you remain a thorn in my side, a leftover piece of a puzzle with no place to go. Nowhere you fit in."

"Please sir," I begin to beg, black tinting the edges of my vision in sheer panic. I thought of his blades, of his guns, even of the strength in his spidery limbs and whip-like tail.

"I gave you a chance because I pitied you, but now you're out of chances and out of time." He gripped my chin, taloned fingers digging into my doughy face. I looked up at him with tear filled eyes and found not a single shred of mercy there.

"Please."

"No," He growled, and if looks could kill, I'd be in hell. "I'm going to make an example of you. I know you neglect your job to sit and eat and read, lazing about like a useless stain. Even knowing that I won't settle for less than perfection. Even knowing that I see everything. But you'll be perfect for one thing..."

I stared blankly, shaking and not daring to move. 

He smiled softly, his voice growing syrupy and taunting. He let one hand glide mockingly over his midriff, "I see how you stare at me and the annoying things you say to the other servants--I always thought your desires the most foolish thing I had ever heard. What better way to end you than by showing you how that particular brand of idiocy has made a bumbling fool of you and distracted you from your job? What its reality leads to?” 

I felt myself flush, immediately trying to twist out of his iron grip. "I'm sorry, Voltaboutamon, please no--"

"Too late " He crooned, a lullaby and a death sentence all in one. "And this way, your end won't lead to the other servants having to clean up after you. Again."

My head began to swim, my chest tightening as his hand encompassed my entire head. My vision completely blacked out, and the sensation of becoming less overtook me, my mind, and even the humiliation.

Before I knew it, I sat on Voltaboutamon's hand, dizzy and still burning with the echoing pain of shrinking. I gazed up at him, his massive visage a blood moon hanging over my earth. Despite myself I panicked with a

 eripping the wrinkled, wine-stained hem of my dress with utterly frayed nerves and tried to look anywhere else but the line of his rage-twisted lips.

It really was happening. Just not the way I'd dreamed. Not with the ending I hoped for. But still...his scowling mouth was mere inches away from me, to the point where I could hear the irritated breath flaring from his nostrils like wind.

Without anymore ceremony, he plucked me from his palm two claws pinching the back of my dress. I swung upwards--unable to even inhale one last breath before the finale--until I was impossibly high up, dangling up above the proud arch of his hat and the menacing sculpt of his mask.

I covered my face with my hands, a low moan of despair escaping me despite my near daily voracious daydreams. I felt as heavy as lead, as good as gone, as dead as--

He let go.

I dropped like a stone, his mouth snapping me up near instantaneously. I felt him struggle a bit to accommodate me in his narrow maw, the pinpricks of his teeth scraping against me and drawing blood. I cried out in fear, pummeling the muscle of his tongue with my slippered feet and desperately tried to scramble for an escape.

A low sound rumbled in his chest, whether it was one of pleasure or annoyance, I couldn't place--perhaps both. He seemed to enjoy the taste of the wine on my skin, but in a matter of seconds he was already bored and done, tilting his head back and gulping me back with a throaty swallow.

I whimpered when I felt his throat hitch, unaccustomed to such a sizable and girthy morsel of food, but he swallowed thickly once more and I was sent down without fuss.

Covered head to toe in his saliva, the muscles of his elegant throat crushed against me, sending me down toward the prison of his gut. I felt his slim fingers press inquisitively against the bulge I created during my descent, cursing my eternal foolishness as my cheeks set aflame.

As I was pulled downward, I heard the laughter and excitement of his guests--I'm sure they enjoyed both his melodramatics and his near playful display of cruelty. Classic Voltboutamon! Soon though, all I could hear was the rush of his breath and the steady tempo of his heart, my head popping into a slightly more open cavern and the rest of my body toppling down seconds later.

I struggled to right myself, slipping in chyme and stomach juices and struggling to breathe in my lord's unrelenting body heat. I pushed my hands against his stomach walls in desperation, trying to wipe the itchy fluids from my eyes.

I imagined the little bulge I'd make in his skinny midsection, considering the fact that I was locked in his belly for the rest of my short life and cringed when I felt my panicking heart betray itself even when there was no way out. It was as if flowers blossomed between my ribs, and even though I was nothing but a punished servant turned snack, I felt as though he had finally seen me.

He had noticed me and my lingering stares--and now I got to be part of him. Perhaps forever, if he truly was without mercy. That meant something, right?

I yelped, jerked out of my thoughts when something dropped onto my head. With a start I realized it was a bit of chewed up meat. So...he was still hungry. Delicately picking at his food while his stomach growled around me, the little human he hungrily gulped down mere moments away from digestion.

The feelings of insignificance and delight battled within me.

More and more food dropped over me, bits of the finest and most decadent the manor's kitchens had to offer, and soon the stomach began to churn away at its meal. The walls pulsed and pressed against me, flipping me all around and nearly drowning me in the stomach fluids and masticated food. I was tossed about like nothing, completely at the mercy of my vicious lord's equally vicious stomach.

I screamed, pressing harder against the stomach walls as my new home seemed to grow hotter and burn with the acrid stench of stomach acid. I struggled for air and tried to push back against the slick muscles, but found myself growing weaker and weaker... Wine soon flooded over me, making me sputter and flail even more, the smell of grapes sickly bitter in the pit of his gut.

I thought I felt his hand pressing against his middle, and found the thought of him stuffing himself into a bellyache to further punish and disgust me made me giddy--I wondered if I was making a bulge in his perfect diamond-cut figure and smiled. Oh, how the blush on my cheeks would spite and enrage him ever further, a fun little game between the two of us.

Unfortunately, whatever bit of heaven I managed to find in my demise still made me the loser of this game. After all, I was going to be nothing more than chyme and fuel for his graceful power soon enough... Truly this was the magnum opus of his callous sadism, the complete erasure of one's personhood. He and his ruthless nature would always win. It always did.

If only he heard my screams and cared. If only he'd set me free in a few more minutes... If only he coughed me up, revealed his heart, and we became true friends. Maybe more, if he confessed he loved me too. If only this really were a game, a playful cat and mouse, and not my execution. But I already knew there would be no salvation tonight. There would be no tenderness from the pitiless digimon, not after my constant failings.

My skin began to truly itch, burning from the thick juices pooling up around me, massaged deep into my flesh by the churning stomach walls. I slumped down in defeat, mind going blank--I was sure that Voltaboutamon and his extravagant guests had already forgotten about me beyond a silly and fanciful dinner story for future parties.

As much as I'd begged and screamed though, it wasn't so bad... Leaning back into it felt as if I became warmth itself, and despite the danger I was in, I almost felt cradled by my lord's body. I could pretend.

My head swam with the heat, my eyes fluttering shut as the stomach bubbled and churned around me, feeling as if the sensation in my skin was fading and my body was beginning to melt. Now, I was nothing but food, fallen prey to my decadent lord.

Nothing but food... Nothing but... Nothing...

***

"Why are you staring at me, Charissa?"

I started with a jolt at Voltaboutamon's grumble. He hovered at the edge of the small kitchen, disgruntled and dissecting a slice of pizza with a fork and knife.

"Ah! Sorry, I was zoning out..." I prayed he hadn't noticed my eyes on the bowed frown of his mouth, on the silky swallows he took of cranberry juice and steaming pizza. I returned my attention to my own slice, stuffing it into my mouth messily.

He looked down his nose at me and scowled even deeper with disapproval, huffing. "Well look somewhere else."

I rolled my eyes and gave a sarcastic salute, desperately hoping my blush wasn't enough to be noticed as I tried not to imagine disappearing down his long, elegant throat, slipping between his menacing teeth and into the cruel and unrelenting confines of his stomach...

I really needed to get a reign on this daydreaming habit. Especially before my reluctant new friend noticed.

Especially before my fixation on his guts and his heart ruined everything.

#soft vore #fatal #implied digestion #implied fatal #unwilling vore #unwilling #fearplay #whump #g/t #giant/tiny #my post #my writing