#tested it and the aquariums are still functional too

[episims]

Heh slowly sinking in that we can shift everything now

Thank you @lamare-sims!

#ts2 #ts2 gameplay #the sims 2 #the sims 2 gameplay #sims 2 #sims 2 gameplay #foxfire forest #building foxfire forest #tested it and the aquariums are still functional too

[chipped-chimera]

Today in fish nonsense! 🐟🐠- Tank is good to go! Cool wood piece is cleaned and time to spend way too long on a plan painting.

More below the cut.

Tank has been set up, leak tested so it's good to go (after I overhauled the layout of my office ... still dealing with the fallout of that though lol) and the piece of jarrah/mirra? wood that my Dad grabbed from the tree he cut down on a farm (noting this specifically because it's actually now illegal to commercially harvest Jarrah in my state - this was on private property so it's legal) has had the absolute crap scrubbed out of it - I mean literally, in the process I found yet another interesting hole in it so that's cool, then high-pressure blasted with water so I am finally ready to think about scaping.

Which apparently means spending longer than I should drawing a plan lol. This piece is super awkward to work with I think - while functionally interesting it has a silhouette that makes me oscillate between 'boring' and 'awkward'. After talking to some artist friends, generally it was agreed I'd need to put more stuff in there to actually make it look better, right now naked glass is super harsh. Problem is, rocks and wood? Well in the aquarium hobby that shit is expensive. We're talking 60 AUD+ for pieces of wood. I mean they are fully cleaned and treated (?) and selected for being interesting, but I have a budget and I'd like to save as much of it as I can for more than just harscape sooooo planning is just the right idea here.

Thinking seiryu stone because I looooove the white veining through it, and then for the branches to break up the shape it's probably going to be spiderwood or something (as much as I love mopani wood I don't think it usually sells branched like this - but I will watch out for it) but the good part is these pieces are all probably going to be on the smaller side since I have my huge hunk of feature wood for free.

I don't know how this piece of wood will interact with inhabitants, I've soaked it for probably a month at this point to get a large amount of the tannins out (and I know it waterlogs, which is great because I won't have to play 'how long will this take to sink') but also to help the looser material come off so all I'm left with now is the hard stuff. It's also now sitting in the sun (and I mean sun - it is going to be 40C today and the next few days so that shit is gonna bake 💀) but prior to that has been sitting in the sun either here or the farm for a total of about idk ... at least a month? Maybe more?

I've struggled to find information on whether Jarrah or Mirra wood is safe beyond one post on a forum where someone-who-knew-someone at a local fish shop had put a piece of this in his store tank and all the fish died. Beyond that? no more context. According to my freshwater ecologist friend I caught up with, she thinks it's probably going to be okay given the amount of time/work put in. I have not done a bleach soak and I don't think I really need to given the amount of time it's been soaking in regular tap water (so already contains chlorine) and sun exposure. There will still probably be tannin leakage into the water but I'm okay with having a mild blackwater tank after seeing one in my LFS, I actually like the slight tannin tint of water and how it makes everything a little 'softer'. But I do ACTUALLY want to be able to see though lmao. I've also seen Jarrah seed pods sold locally specifically for blackwater tank setups so it might be fine?

Either way the plan is going to be: Scape, plant, cycle and then introduction of some cheap shrimp as my poor guinea pigs to see if that wood actually is awful.

Right now I'll just have to painstakingly go through plant choices and placement and making sure it lines up with the planned parameters for the community. I absolutely will take suggestions btw.

More soon. Fish nonsense will contain fish ... at some point. I swear lmao.

#kerytalk #aquablr #fishblr #my art #I guess even though this is a grossly overconfident doodle #aquascaping #yes that is a sandpit for enrichment #though I'm debating corydoras #I worry tetras + corydoras might be too much schooling happening for the eventual last edition - Betta fish #if not then it'll be tetras + one pleco #... I swear I saw a video of a pleco thoroughly enjoying burrowing in sand - I'd love that #yes all of this is primarily because I want a betta #but if I only get one tank ... go hard or go home right? #ngl considering getting a small 5-10 gallon for my bedroom for shrimp breeding so that could be a feasible second plan #in case the betta is an asshole #do not tell my parents lmao #I'd love a male in the tank but know it's probably not going to work so female is more likely - or at least plakat type #it's got quite a bit of height to traverse so I don't think anything with super big fins would be great - especially with age #even if I basically have a stepped up network of holes in this wood right to where it nearly touches the surface

[shingekinomyfeelings]

Would You Still Love Me? Part 2

Reiner x fem reader; established relationship; college au; comedy-fluff

synopsis: Reiner's love for you is tested in a way neither of you saw coming... The next day, he discusses the issue with his friends. Think they'll be any help?

warnings: none

notes: Part 1 beta read by @reiner69er. Banner made by me. Dividers by @delishlydelightfuldividers. Comments help earthworms grow large and healthy!

taglist: @ariasfandom

“So...” Sasha blinks, peering into the jar that sits on the table in front of Reiner. “Y/n turned into a worm, and… you’re keeping her in a jar now?”

Reiner covers the container with a piece of paper again, stifling a yawn. He hadn’t slept much, and had to admit he had been a little gutted when he’d awoken that morning to see that you were still a worm. He’d hoped maybe you’d… sleep it off or something?

“The jar’s just temporary until the aquarium and things get here.”

“Aquarium? She’s not a fish, Reiner,” says Connie, who is busying trying to finish last week’s assignment before the professor collects them that day.

“The stuff I found online said she’ll do best in a habitat with alternating layers of sand and potting soil so there’s be enough nutrients and moisture. I was up late reading about it.” Reiner tiredly rubs his face as the others stare at him.

Bertholdt, who spent the night at Armin’s dorm, rolls his eyes but says nothing.

“And you brought her to class with you because…?” Ymir prompts, a smirk playing on her lips.

“I just want to keep an eye on her, in case she suddenly changes back or something. I’ve got her phone in my pocket, and if her family calls I wanna be able to tell them I know exactly where she is.”

There’s a deeply uncomfortable pause, and Ymir opens her mouth but is interrupted.

“Well, I think it’s sweet!” Historia declares, trying to avoid an escalation of whatever is going on with Reiner. “Reiner, how can you, uh, how can you tell the worm is a she?”

“Um...” Reiner shifts uncomfortably, a hint of a blush on his cheeks. “Well, Armin says earthworms are actually uhh...”

“They’re true simultaneous hermaphrodites.” Armin finishes the sentence for him. “They have both complete male and female reproductive organs. They can’t self fertilize, though, so in a way, they function as one sex as a time during mating.”

"Yeah," Reiner says gruffly. "But y/n is a she, because she's always been. That's how gender works, right?"

“Oh, that’s beautiful!” Ymir laughs. “You must be relieved, Reiner. You and your hermaphroditic girlfriend-worm make an adorable couple. I bet they’ll even make a Lifetime movie out of your story.”

“Haha, yeah!” Connie wheezes. “They can call it, ‘Worms of Endearment!’”

Reiner is too pissed off to admit that that’s actually pretty funny. You’d probably have laughed out loud, he thinks, if you weren’t currently a worm.

“I wanna see y/n up close and see if she remembers me!” Sasha says, grabbing the jar before the sleepy Reiner can stop her.

She removes the paper and reaches in and picks you up, but you’re wet and wiggly and almost immediately slip out of her fingers, falling several feet onto the filthy floor. Sasha freezes. The fear in the room is palpable as Reiner springs from his seat and dives across the table, falling gracelessly onto the floor and cupping his hands over you to shield you from the many pairs of surrounding feet. His gaze snaps to Sasha, and his golden eyes are icy enough to send the girl into a frantic apology.

“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to drop the girlfriend!! – I mean, your worm! – I, I mean, I –”

With a low growl worthy of a dog guarding a marrow bone, Reiner orders to Connie, “Give me your water bottle.”

Too afraid to question why, Connie hands him the bottle. Reiner pours a little water onto his hands, then gingerly picks you up off of the floor and uses the rest of the water to carefully rinse you clean of any debris, before setting you back down in the dirt in your container. He’s practically holding his breath, watching until you start to burrow back into the soil.

He sighs in relief and gets to his feet and grabs his bag and slings it over his shoulder, then gives Sasha another dirty look before leaving the classroom, holding your jar in both hands as if it might jump away. Everyone watches, wide-eyed.

Ymir scoffs, breaking the tense silence. “Tsh, what a man child. His girlfriend skips their afternoon make out session for a day and he’s already doting on a literal bug and pretending it’s her? Sheesh, no wonder y/n dipped. What a freak show.”

“Well… worms aren’t bugs. They’re annelids.”

“Great defense, Arlert. I take it all back. Makes what he’s doing seem perfectly normal.”

Bertholdt stares at the table. It really isn’t like you to go somewhere without telling Reiner, or to leave your phone behind. Could something have really happened to you? He makes up his mind that he’ll have to find you himself.

As class ends and the room empties, Bertholdt motions to his friends to wait. “Have any of you seen or heard from y/n since yesterday afternoon? That’s when Reiner says she, um, turned into a worm.”

Armin shakes his head. “I asked Mikasa. She said that y/n has an evening class on Tuesdays, so she and Reiner always meet around 4:30 to hang out behind the auditorium. I... don’t know why she knows that. Anyway, she saw y/n leave one of the lecture halls not long before that. She said y/n seemed tired, and Mina Carolina says y/n didn’t show up to the evening lecture. Maybe she felt sick and went home? It still doesn’t quite make sense, though.”

"Could this all be some elaborate prank they're both playing, and Reiner is just a way better actor than any of us ever thought he'd be?" Eren asks, joining them. Armin and Bertholdt filled him in on the details last night.

“His having her cell phone is pretty suspicious,” Armin points out.

Ymir shrugs. “Maybe he killed her. Maybe he just snapped, and then the guilt made him break from reality and convince himself she turned into a worm.”

“Ah, that’s stupid,” Connie waves it off. "Reiner's practically golden retriever in human form around y/n. He'd never hurt her."

“Maybe he’s got a dual personality,” Ymir counters.

“Ymir, please don’t let Reiner hear you making jokes like that,” Bertholdt says with a sigh. “Skipping classes for a weird prank like this is a little extreme, right? Look, my theory is that they had some kind of dispute--”

“And he killed her.”

Bertholdt ignores Ymir’s interjection and continues, “And she told him she wanted to take a break, or maybe even break up. She was probably so upset by that that she skipped her evening class and went home, and Reiner was so devastated that he...”

“...went totally insane?” Connie offers.

“I was going to say, ‘retreated into a comforting fantasy.’”

“Okay, but, he doesn’t exactly seem comforted, does he?”

“It’s a little over the top,” Bert admits. “But even though Reiner acts like a jock, he’s always been really sensitive deep down. When we were little, Porco told him the Rugrats all died in a plane crash and Reiner cried so hard he threw up a little.”

“So, if you’re right, how do we snap him out of it?” Eren wonders.

“What if we get rid of the worm? We could sneak in and take it and let it go somewhere. Maybe once the worm is really gone, he’ll have to face reality.”

“Wow, Armin, that’s cold!” says Connie. “And besides, Reiner might literally kill us. You saw how he looked at Sasha when she dropped y/n by accident.”

Bert thinks for a moment. “I... I don’t think I could do that to Reiner. I think the first step would be getting him to admit something went wrong between them. Then maybe the rest will fall into place. I’ll try to get him talking tonight. In the meantime, I think we should avoid mentioning the worm around him, even if he’s carrying it around. That’ll just encourage his fantasy, right?”

As they all file out into the hallway, the others seem to agree, and as they go their separate ways, Ymir can be heard whining to Historia, “If I disappeared, would you go insane and pretend I’d turned into a worm because you love me so much?”

Bertholdt, meanwhile, wonders where Reiner was headed with the worm...

Part 3 coming soon

#reiner #reiner braun #reiner x reader #armin arlert #bertholdt hoover #bertholt hoover #connie springer #eren jaegar #eren yeager #historia reiss #sasha braus #ymir #attack on titan #aot #fluff #comedy #simultaneous hermaphrodites??? #worms of endearment #I crack myself up #I laughed about the Rugrats line for way too long #would you still love me?

[staysaneathome]

Teach A Fish (Extremely Late Mermay 2022)

“And these are our prize specimens!”

Dr. Stoker is far too exuberant for Jon’s liking. In stark contrast to Director Bouchard and Jon himself, the man seems to embody what Hollywood likes to imagine marine biologists are like; too much energy, too many cheesy quips and one-liners, and far too good looks for the field.

Jon, with his greying hair, gaunt frame, and eyebags despite all his efforts to neaten up for his first day as a project head, feels he is a far better representation of the demographic, thank you very much.

Still, he can’t quite help the dawning sense of curiosity and wonder as the giant tanks come into view.

There are two; one slightly smaller than the other, with a more reasonable quantity of sand at the bottom compared to its neighbor.

This is the one Dr. Stoker leads him over to first. “This one in particular— came to us from one of our largest sponsors, and guy who found ‘em likes to pop by and see how his favorite catch is doing. Also I think he and Director Bouchard might have, like, a thing? So yeah, highest priority is keeping this one fed and well-cared for.”

It’s hard to see through the slightly cloudy water, but Jon adjusts his glasses and peers closer.

There, hovering towards the back of the tank, is a large figure, probably as tall as him on glance. It’s tail is dark blue, with pale silver speckles and translucent grey fins. Similar fins line the skin of it’s forearms and between the fingers, and the dorsal fin extends up to where he’d call it the mid-back on a human. Its hair is tightly coiled and floats in a cloud around its head.

“This mer is a variant of the gobiidae species, correct?” He asks Dr. Stoker. “Gobius niger, if I’m not mistaken.”

Dr. Stoker whistles. “You know your stuff! Yeah, this is FR3Y. There was some bickering between the Lukases over the designation before Director Bouchard declared that it was going to be that and shut them all up.”

Jon nods, making a mental note of how casually Dr. Stoker dropped the name of one of the largest contributors to marine life studies, and the fact that the head of the Magnus Institute for Marine Research apparently has the capacity to have the final say on disputes between them.

The mer’s head turns, as if it can hear them through the tank, before a flick of its tail sends it drifting disinterestedly off into the misty waters.

“The rest kept here are our ‘problem children’.” Dr. Stoker laughs as he guides Jon over to the largest tank in the room, which appears to be one third silt and sand. “That’s what me, Sasha and Gerry used to call them— all of them in here are adolescents. Too weird or unsociable to be sent off to nurseries or aquariums, too ‘special’ to leave to the interns or grad students to poke at.”

Jon’s about to ask what Dr. Stoker means by that, or whose bright idea it was to overfill the sediment, when sudden movement catches his eye.

A muscled hand, with dark brown webbing between its fingers, pulls a section of the silt near the bottom of the tank away, followed by another, gradually clawing away a small alcove before Jon’s eyes.

“Aaand there’s one of them now!” Dr. Stoker claps an unwanted hand on Jon’s shoulder. “P3TR4 here is functionally very similar to fish of the weever family! That means she likes to dig. And doesn’t like anything that isn’t digging. Which makes it very difficult when it comes time to do tests! Or introduce her to any new friends! This lot are about the only ones she’ll tolerate, and sometimes not even then.”

A pale face with dark eyes peers up at him, close enough to the glass that Jon’s almost certain it can make him out.

One side of its mouth curls up in what might be a half-hearted snarl or maybe a sneer, showing off rows of needle-sharp teeth. It turns and begins digging away.

“Yeah, she hates you, but try not to take it personally. She sort of hates everybody, and unless she gets a good grip on you, you’ll be fine.” Dr. Stoker begins climbing the stairway that’s been built around the tank. “You should’ve seen what she did to one of our old security guards! Come meet another member of the brat pack.”

Jon tentatively follows up the rickety metal scaffolding. “So… what did happen to one of the security guards…?”

“Oh, P3TR4 managed to pull her into the tank and down into her tunnels. Took us ages to ward her away enough that the guard could get out, and by then the poor thing’s nerves were shot to pieces. Could never work here again.” Dr. Stoker says, blithely. “Anyway, this is D3S, the cutest of the bunch.”

Jon has to tear his mind away from visions of a hapless victim getting dragged down to their watery doom to focus on what Dr. Stoker is pointing at.

This mer is much smaller than the other two, and much more lively as well. The proportions of its tail are similar to fish of the Chaetodon genus, while the more mammalian upper body resembles a small boy of…maybe five years?

Jon’s never had much interaction with children, so he’s only relatively confident in that assessment.

What’s odd is the fact that it is surrounded by what appears to be a particularly colorful swarm of sea lice, all fiery reds, oranges, and browns. Crawling through its short hair, over its gills, fins, and tail. The mer doesn’t seem bothered by them at all, chittering and chirping away with a wide grin as it carefully manipulates its passengers, cupping them in its palms close to its chest and dangling them from its fingers and tail to catch like it’s playing.

He turns to Dr. Stoker. “Aren’t those…?

“Hm? Oh, yeah, no, those things are parasites.” Dr. Stoker replies. “Nasty ones too. But D3S has somehow formed a symbiotic relationship with them—they get food and shelter from him and he somehow gets cleaning and vitamin supplements from them. Separating them turned out to be a bad time all round, he keeps them…docile, somehow. Plus D3S began getting sick without ‘em, so.”

Dr. Stoker shrugs, a what-can-you-do kind of gesture. “So long as you wear the proper protective gear, he’s a sweetheart. Sasha’s currently his favorite, but I’ve got a secret plan to make a comeback any day now. You’ll have stiff competition if you want to catch up!”

Jon can’t help the small scoff that escapes him at that. “It’s not a popularity contest. They’re research subjects in our care, not, not pets.”

The look Dr. Stoker gives him is indecipherable, before the lightbulb-bright beam is back and he’s leading Jon along the walkway again.

“Well now, where’s…a-ha!”

He comes to a stop after thundering down another staircase back to ground level, gesturing proudly to something at the base of the tall fronds of seaweed that block Jon’s view of D3S.

Jon obediently follows and looks where he’s being directed. He can’t help but do a double take at what he sees.

“This is R&D’s pride and joy. They designated it R0BB13.” Dr. Stoker’s voice washes over him as Jon takes in the newest mer. Overall, it wouldn’t be too impressive, a pale brown tail lighter than its skin, hands clutching a seaweed frond to anchor itself. There are small glows of green bioluminescence brightening and dimming along its tail and sides in rhythm with its sleep, the excess the only odd thing about what’s otherwise a standard mer of the Myctophidae family. Except.

Except it has clearly been fitted with a prothesis for the lower half of its face. One that appears to fit near seamlessly, advanced enough to have Jon torn between twin urges of getting closer to examine it or looking away out of ingrained politeness.

“Poor thing was half-dead when it was rescued and brought to Magnus. We think it ran afoul of Leitner and his poachers.” Dr. Stoker continues, grimacing with Jon at Leitner’s name. “Point is, R&D were hankering for a test subject to fit their newest gizmos to and nobody was going to let them lop anything off the mers already in custody. Then lo and behold, the perfect specimen dropped right into their laps. They were bringing in Prosecco for weeks after the initial success.”

“Initial?” Jon asks, his curiosity having won out over his manners. He is now mentally willing the mer’s loose curls to drift out of its face so he can have a better look. “But this is. It’s phenomenal. What this means for our understanding of medical treatment and rehabilitation of mers, particularly ones that would’ve been written off as lost causes, it just. It beggars belief.”

The mer lets out a stream of bubbles in sleep and turns its head into its far arm, much to his annoyance.

“Well, their attempts to restore R0BB13’s vocals weren’t as successful as other functions. Which on it’s own, y’know, wouldn’t be a problem, it’s amazing that this allows them to chew and swallow with no problems, even yawn and emote, as you said, revolutionary really, but. Even the most solitary mers rely heavily on vocal call-and-response to establish territory.”

Dr. Stoker’s hands are stuffed in his pockets, and when Jon glances back the other man’s staring at him, for some reason. “So here’s the rest of our problem children, getting along with mostly no issues, and then this weirdo is dumped into their neat little world. And no matter how many times they try to reach out, extend the olive branch, form a rapport, this stranger just won’t get it. Refuses to engage, no matter what they do. Even seems to be insulting them, in some cases, getting preferential treatment from their handlers. Is it any wonder there were some ruffled feathers in the beginning?”

Jon frowns, looking from Dr. Stoker to R0BB13. “Hardly. It wasn’t the mer’s fault it came in with this handicap. It didn’t ask to be put here, and it’s not at fault it can’t respond in the way the others are used to. It seems irresponsible to just—just dump it in the same tank as the others without some form of socialization beforehand. The Lukas family mer gets it’s own tank—surely providing one for this one isn’t out of the Institute’s budget?”

Dr. Stoker raises an eyebrow, but nods to him, turning his gaze back to the tank. “Yeah, me, Sasha and Gerry heavily advocated for that. Gerry especially, but Director Bouchard kept saying ‘oh but that will set back all the progress we’ve made on socialization so far’ as if that progress wasn’t D3S hiding in fear until he learned they just wanted to play too, or P3TR4 using R0BB13 as a nail file, and—”

Dr. Stoker cocks his head to the side, cutting himself off suddenly. A grin Jon is very sure he doesn’t like spreads over his face.

“And,” He continues, as though he hadn’t stopped, shifting so his stance is oddly set. “It’s long past time for them to be up and about. It’s important to maintain a regular schedule, you know. Not healthy to oversleep, right?”

“I-I’m sorry,” Jon starts, confused, watching as Dr. Stoker raises a hand, winding up like a pitcher. “But what on earth does that have to do with an—”

Before Jon’s befuddled and horrified gaze, Dr. Stoker throws his hand forward to slam on the glass of the tank, bellowing, “WAKEY-WAKEY!”

R0BB13 jolts as its eyes fly open at the BANG, bioluminescence bright with alarm. It releases both a copious amount of bubbles and its hold on the seaweed in shock, then panics as it begins to drift up and away on the current, grabbing futilely for its previous handhold like it’s forgotten it has a tail to swim with.

On the other side of the tank, there’s a flurry of activity as D3S presumably flees for cover. A little closer, Jon spots a plume of sand burst upwards as P3TR4 pokes her head out of the sediment, teeth bared in a irritable growl.

But all that’s soon forgotten when in a blur of bubbles and claws and teeth, something rockets out from the undergrowth and SLAMS right back into the glass.

It does so with such ferocity that Jon really can’t be held accountable for stumbling back, tripping, and landing quite painfully on his arse. “What, what the hell—?!”

Dr. Stoker is laughing uproariously, even as a mer seems to be trying its level best to peel away the glass between them to get at his face.

A door at the end of the room bangs open. “DAMN IT TIM, STOP!”

A tall woman in glasses, lab coat, and lanyard storms out.

“If my samples get contaminated because of you, Stoker, I swear—”

“Pay up Sash!” Dr. Stoker points one finger at who Jon can only assume is one of his new subordinates and another at the mer attempting to murder him. “That’s three times now! It’s a pattern, you can’t deny it!”

The woman referred to as “Sash” scoffs. “3M1L’s mad you’re tapping on his glass Tim, it’s a territorial response! Oldest trick in the book. You can’t possibly expect me to believe—”

“Then why doesn’t he go Kill Bill on me when R0BB13’s not near enough to get freaked out by it?” Dr. Stoker says, in the tone of someone who believes they’ve won an argument.

The woman begins spluttering. “Wh—I—this is why D3S loves me more than you! Because you keep bullying poor, innocent fish to further your, your shipping agenda!”

“It’s not an agenda if it’s happening, Sasha!” Dr. Stoker sing-songs. “Changing the subject is just admitting I’m right!”

“Could someone please tell me what on earth is going on?!” Jon bursts out, tired of the conversation going on literally and figuratively over his head.

The two freeze.

“Oh! Oh I’m sorry!” The woman reaches down and pulls him up, dusting him off with quick, efficient strokes, before pumping his hand up and down. “Jonathan Sims, right? Dr. Sasha James, at your service.”

“And that,” Dr. Stoker adds, directing Jon’s gaze towards the tank where the mer has tired of its attacks and settled for glaring daggers at the three of them, eyes dark blue and murderous. “Is 3M1L. He’s of the ghost knifefish genus, does his best to live up to that name, and loathes absolutely everything except R0BB13.”

“You.” Dr. James fires back. “He loathes you, you mean. Because you keep banging on the glass—”

“Irrelevant!” Dr. Stoker proclaims. “Thing is, if you want him to not try to have your guts for a necklace while doing tests on him, make sure R0BB13 is nearby. He’ll behave in front of them. Or he’ll act out for attention! Luck of the draw, really.”

“The latter more often than the former, recently.” Dr. James concedes with a grimace. “Still, just because you fancy yourself matchmaker—!”

“I am nothing so facile as a matchmaker, James.” Dr. Stoker sniffs, in a passable imitation of Jon’s accent. “I see true love, and I follow my sworn duty to—”

“You said they were adolescents.” Jon’s voice sounds accusing to his own ears. “So this is all, all academic. A waste of time and resources trying to theorize about!”

“I don’t know about that.” Jon feels his blood run cold at the sound of his new employer’s voice. He spins on his heel to see Director Elias Bouchard standing behind them, not a hair out of place. “Peter was sixteen when I met him for the first time, and that meeting eventually lead to a highly enjoyable first marriage. Maybe an equally enjoyable divorce.”

There’s a moment of profoundly uncomfortable silence.

“…and you were…?” Stoker finally ventures.

Director Bouchard shoots the man a sardonic look. “Fifteen, if you must know, Dr. Stoker.”

“Does that make it better or worse??” Dr. James whispers.

Jon…honestly doesn’t know.

“Still, I see you’ve met two of the researchers on your team, and the subjects who’ll be in your care.” Director Bouchard comes to stand besides Jon, briefly clasping a hand on his shoulder. “There are technically three, but the last is currently on the night monitoring shift, though I’m sure you’ll all be introduced soon enough.”

“Michael Shelley, right?” He hears Dr. James say, as he watches 3M1L give them all one last snarl, then turn tail to swim towards the top of the tank, where R0BB13 is still flailing in panic. “I met him a few times—he’s cool.”

He vaguely knows that Director Bouchard is shaking his head, saying something else, but Jon can’t help that his attention is caught by the farce going on in the tank. He watches as 3M1L bullies R0BB13 into remembering they have a tail to swim with, nudging and prodding them back down to sediment-level, snapping toothlessly when they threaten to drift off again, before abandoning his fellow mer at the base of the seaweed to vanish back into the large cluster of rocks from whence he came.

R0BB13 looks…oddly forlorn, left alone like that, before they too disappear into the vegetation in a flicker of pale brown scales.

Jon wonders if they’ve gone off to find 3M1L or D3S to play with, but then he notices that P3TR4’s tunneling has brought her close to the glass again, her face pressed against it and focusing intently on something. But her eyes aren’t watching any of the four humans who are moving and talking not two feet away from her head, so what…?

“…but yes, given Dr. Keay’s departure following this to help bring Jürgen Leitner to justice, we are tremendously grateful that you agreed to come head this program, Dr. Sims.” Director Bouchard pats him on the back again, forcing him to re-zone in on the conversation. “You came very highly recommended by Dr. Robinson, so we expect great things from you here.”

Yes, because that’s no pressure on him at all. Jon takes a moment to long for the days when his thesis supervisor brought him on as a research assistant, where he, Jack, and Emma only had to monitor the relatively sedate 4GN3S and 4NN4B3LL3. Back before Gertrude strode in one day and dropped the bombshell that maybe it was time for Jon to have a project and research assistants of his own.

But Director Bouchard is waiting for a reply, so Jon clears his throat and straightens his shoulders. “A-hem, y-yes, well, I’m. I look forward to working with you all, and with, ah. Such a unique group of mers.”

“That’s certainly a word to call them.” Dr. Stoker mutters, as Dr. James delivers a well-placed elbow to his side.

Weeks go by, and Jon almost feels like he might have some form of understanding about this new situation that’s been thrust upon him.

Still no idea what he’s actually meant to be doing, beyond making sure the mers in his care are relatively healthy and noting down anything they do that’s particularly odd, but some understanding nonetheless.

For instance, he understands now why the position of being D3S’ favorite is such a coveted one.

It means that D3S will actually behave while being examined and won’t, say, attempt to nervously shred the protective gear Jon’s wearing out of anxiety or boredom, exposing Jon to his “little friends” and the many, many unpleasant rashes they bring.

He also understands why Dr. James is and mostly likely always will be D3S’ favorite despite Dr. Stoker’s harebrained schemes to the contrary—she’s thoughtful and considerate enough to anticipate problems and provide the solutions with minimal judgement and much commiseration, such as an experimental cream she’s developed to counteract the rashes.

He understands that Dr. Stoker isn’t anyone’s favorite, except maybe FR3Y’s and that’s more down to the mer’s apparently endless well of patience for Dr. Stoker’s incessant chatter while he pokes and prods about than anything else.

Jon understands that Dr. Stoker and 3M1L should ideally be kept separate at all costs.

He also now thinks he understands what exactly P3TR4 is looking at when she’s staring out of the tank from her tunnels.

He’s conducted a few experiments, nothing major, and it turns out that her gaze is usually fixated on (and gets much moodier if it is in any way blocked from) FR3Y’s tank. And oddly enough, the occasions when Jon’s caught her staring usually line up with the occupant of said tank being close enough to the glass to be clearly visible.

There are still things Jon doesn’t understand, of course.

He doesn’t, for example, understand exactly why P3TR4 keeps staring at FR3Y’s tank. His hypotheses so far— that she’s either curious about a place that she doesn’t have access to or feels threatened by a potential intruder to her territory—don’t hold up when taking the sheer length of time she’s been doing it for into account. By all rights, she should’ve gotten bored or realized FR3Y is no threat to her territory by now.

He doesn’t understand why Dr. James and Dr. Stoker insist that he’s 3M1L’s favorite. The mer clearly dislikes him, and if he scratches less with Jon than with Dr. Stoker or Dr. James, it’s probably only because he’s realized that Jon just wants to get the examination over with as quickly as possible.

He also doesn’t understand why Michael Shelley’s handwriting has undergone such a drastic change when he flips through the entries in the Night Shift log, going from near-illegible curls that nonetheless includes all the pertinent information to neater, less flowing print that either fails to provide certain data or delves into subjects almost totally unrelated to the monitoring of the mers.

He suspects it may be a hazing thing, Shelley deliberately antagonizing him because he thinks that just because he doesn’t see his new boss thanks to their differing shifts, he can mess around however he likes.

He doesn’t understand where the tea comes from. It’s there at the start of every shift he’s had so far, three gently steaming cups at just the right temperature to drink. The tea’s flavor has also gradually been improved over the course of Jon’s employment, so now when he picks up the purple mug with white, grey and black kittens running across it, the drink inside is exactly to his tastes.

He’s tried asking where it comes from, but Dr. Stoker just keeps saying “maybe it’s the ghoooost~!” and that’s really not conducive to any information gathering.

And he doesn’t understand why, aside from instances when they are deliberately woken up, he’s never seen R0BB13 awake during the whole of the day shift. Occasionally they’ll wake up by the time Jon’s preparing to leave, but more often than not they’re asleep from early clock in to late clock out

“I just can’t understand it.” Dr. James sighs. “Their species is diurnal, and they never used to behave like this. But the weirdest thing is that we feed all the problem children during the day, right? And R0BB13 is missing all of these feedings, because they’re asleep, but they’ve not lost any weight. Even put some on if the last measurement was right.”

Dr. Stoker shrugs. “Maybe 3M1L hides food for them to find later? Or whatever is keeping them up at night is feeding them then.”

Dr. James shrugs and goes back to slurping her noodles, but Jon finds himself coming back to the conversation even as he munches on his prawn cocktail crisps.

He feels oddly disquieted by the idea of a—a stranger coming in and deliberately interfering with one of the mers under his care, intentions unknown and completely unnoticed by Shelley on the Night Shift, the useless ass.

The more he thinks about it, the more intensely he dislikes it. This is something Jon needs to get to the bottom of, pronto.

Jon watches the cameras, scrubs through hours upon hours upon hours of footage.

It’s as Dr. James said: R0BB13 used to be much more active during the day. But over the past few months, something appears to shift its sleep cycle later and later, until it’s almost completely nocturnal.

But in all this time, it doesn’t seem to be stressed by the change. On the contrary, the mer’s health has steadily improved over the course of this period, scales it has scratched off on rocks or the bottom of the tank or lost to 3M1L’s or P3TR4’s mood swings growing back strong. When it is awake, it’s animated and sociable, bioluminescence growing brighter with each passing week.

Bright enough that, on the most recent tapes the cameras have caught several strange objects and what looks like a distorted figure perched by the top of the tank.

“Got you.” Jon hisses at the interloper threatening the sanctity of his project.

Jon pretends to clock out a little early at the end of the next workday, and goes and hides in the mens’.

Aside from a hair-raising moment when a security guard strode up and down the room banging on all the toilet-stall doors, this somehow works like a charm.

Jon resolves to have a strong Word with Elias about increasing security measures when everything is sorted—what if this is how the intruder’s been getting in?

He stays curled up on top of the toilet seat for a while even as the hours tick on. He doesn’t want to run into Shelley by leaving too early and allow the intruder the chance to escape in all the confusion.

Eventually his alarm vibrates at 2:00 AM, startling him out of the half-doze he’d fallen into. Jon has to take a moment to stretch out his stiff limbs before entering the main observation area.

The large, blocky shapes of the tanks are profoundly eerie, but Jon can’t chance using his phone’s torch until he’s found and confronted the interloper.

He strains his ears and eyes, watching, listening for…

There.

At the top of the tank, there’s the green glow of R0BB13’s bioluminescence, oddly tinted by what appears to be a weak, orange light.

Under the rush of circulating water, there’s a low murmur, barely audible.

Jon toes off his hard-soled oxfords and creeps up the metal stairs of the walkway with socked feet.

As Jon sneaks closer, the murmur resolves itself into faintly recognizable sounds, then into legible words.

“‘It is the star nearest to ours.’” A soft, lilting male voice is saying, as though in recitation. “‘It is four light years away. If you were invited to tea on Alpha Centauri in four years’ time, you would have to set off now and travel at the speed of light if you wanted to get there before all the cake had been eaten. Fortunately, you are here today, and there is plenty of cake left.’ Abel Darkwater smiled. He was better at smiling than Mrs Rokabye, but Silver—”

“Ah-HA!”

“AAAAAAH!!” A large, soft-looking man screams, nearly losing his grip on a hardback book in his hands.

There’s a small splash as R0BB13 falls back under the water in a panic.

In the light of his phone torch, Jon can now make out that the man sitting cross-legged by a whole host of the Institute’s scientific equipment (does he need to add theft to the list of this man’s crimes?) has extremely curly hair, copious freckles dotting his face and neck, and large, liquid-looking eyes squinting against the bright light that’s being shone into his face.

“Who-wha-who are you?!” The large, soft-looking stranger has the audacity to demand from his cross-legged position next to the tank’s edge. “This, this is a, a private area, in, in fact the entire Institute is off-limits to the public at the moment, how—?!”

“I can go wherever I like within my own department.” Jon snaps, brandishing the lanyard with his company id like it’s a police badge in some fast-paced cop procedural.

“Oh.” The blood drains from the man’s face and then surges back into his cheeks as he glances between the unflattering photo and Jon himself. “Oh! Oh, you’re. You’re Dr. Jonathan. Sims. I. Nice to meet you?”

“What,” Jon seethes, incensed by this stranger’s apparent inanity. “Exactly are you doing?”

“Oh, it’s, uh.” The freckled man with large, liquid eyes closes the book so his fingers are trapped between the pages, holding up the cover for Jon’s perusal. “It’s called Tanglewreck? By, uh, by Jeanette Winterson. I’m reading it to them.”

“What?” Jon demands, “Why?”

“W-well, we got through Winnie the Pooh and, and Paddington pretty quickly, and they like learning BSL, but, it seemed like they were a bit disappointed when I stopped reading to them? And, and I wasn’t really sure if they’d enjoy Malorie Blackman or Neil Gaiman yet, and Jacqueline Wilson always seemed a bit heavy, to me, like great stuff but, but sad, and J.K. Rowling is just. No? But I know Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit was important to me when I was younger, really helped me figure some stuff out. But that’s still a bit old for them, so when I discovered Jeanette Winterson had done a children’s book, I thought why not, you know? And, and it’s pretty good so far! Very in-depth about some topics, like time and how it functions differently on different planets, and—”

“Why.” Jon grits out, determined to cut off this nonsensical jabbering. “Are you trying to read to them in the first place?!”

That appears to stymie the man for a moment. “I. Um?”

“Who are you?!” He barks.

“Mar-Martin! Martin, Martin Blackwood, sir, no, sorry, doctor, Dr. Sims!” The man, Martin Blackwood, stammers.

“And what, Mr. Blackwood, are you doing in this Institute after hours?”

Martin Blackwood actually has the audacity to blink quizzically at that. “Well, I, uh. I work here.”

There’s a moment of profound silence.

“No you don’t.” Jon says with unflinching confidence.

This, this charlatan actually has the audacity to look confused. “I, um? I, I do?”

“No you don’t.” Jon repeats, looming over him. “My department researchers include Dr. Timothy Stoker, Dr. Sasha James, and Dr. Michael Shelley. And you? Are not them.”

Jon settles back, proud of having won the argument. He tries to ignore the small splashes R0BB13 keeps making in the tank besides them.

For some reason, the man’s brow only creases further. “Wh-but-wh—what?! Dr. Shelley left the Institute months ago!”

There’s another, less profound moment of silence.

“…No he didn’t.”

“Yes he did.”

“No he didn’t.”

“Yes.” Martin Blackwood’s getting up now, something fierce and burning in his liquid eyes, and good lord but how tall is the man? “He did. He left about a month ago to help this, this poacher-hunting investigative legal thing, and Gerry left to join him not two months later! I was transferred from the Records department to be his replacement!”

He gives a little decisive nod at the last part which makes his curls bounce.

Jon’s opening his mouth to retort when a wave of something freezing and wet hits his lower legs.

He can’t help giving a wordless holler, stumbling backwards til he hits the railing in an attempt to escape the deluge.

R0BB13’s eyes slit like a cat’s when his torch swings around to find them, the metal wiring that prevents them from crawling out of the tank casting criss-cross shadows over their face. Their bioluminescence is so bright it’s practically neon.

Their fins are spread wide in an obvious threat display, that’s only made more unnerving because Jon’s never seen R0BB13 perform one before. Though no sound comes out when they bare their sharp little teeth, Jon’s fairly certain they would be growling at him if they could.

Jon makes a wordless splutter, but is cut off from truly saying anything by Martin Blackwood sternly going, “No. No, Robbie, that’s not a nice thing to do to people, we do not do that. You know it’s very cold in there for us, it isn’t nice to splash if we’re not playing. There are better ways to ask for us to look at you, okay?”

“Robbie?” Jon sputters. “Wh—that’s not their designation, you—!”

And then he stops.

R0BB13 is repeatedly making a circular motion over their chest with one hand curled into a fist with an expression that mingles both regret and mutiny.

Beside him, Martin Blackwood huffs out a breath and continues in a softer, fonder tone. “Alright, I know you’re sorry, just don’t do it again, you hear?”

R0BB13 gives a small wiggle in response, obviously reacting to the positive tone of voice, because that’s all mers are intelligent enough to recognize, certain signals and sounds, they can’t actually understand human language or words, like dogs or corvids—

R0BB13 is using their hands to form more signs. Slightly crudely, webbing between their fingers impeding it somewhat, but still legible. And not repeating any of the phrases Martin’s just said. Responding, with new ones.

Martin gives a nervous laugh in reply, eyes darting to Jon. “Not, not right now, Robbie, we’ll continue the chapter later—”

“How are they doing that.” Jon demands.

Martin Blackwood and the mer give him identical strange looks. “Doing what?”

“That!” Jon gestures wildly with his torch to R0BB13, who’s begun sinking back down under the water like they can escape this. “The, the signing! There’s, there’s been studies, and, and tests, mers are nowhere near intelligent enough to—! How do they know how to do that?!”

“Be-because I taught them?” Quavers a man who clearly has no idea how many academic studies he’s just overturned. “I, I mean, it was just, Gerry mentioned how much trouble they were having socializing since they, you know, so I thought, well, I had to learn BSL for a retail position at the London Aquarium, and they’re a kid so it’ll be easier for them to learn a new language than an adult, right? I mean, all of them spend all day surrounded by us talking in English, and Robbie seemed to understand a bit of what was happening in Winnie the Pooh when I was trying to make them feel better and get settled down for the night, so I thought…?”

Jon has to take a moment to sit down, heavily. His wet socks squelch as he does so. “That isn’t possible. It shouldn’t be possible. It’s like something that someone who’d only ever seen mers in, in Disney would think up. It can’t. All those studies, and not one of them using immature mers…?”

“Hey!” The man who has forced this total paradigm shift on Jon protests. “I, I do have a Masters!”

“Do you?!” Jon’s retort isn’t so much a retort as an anguished cry. “Do you really?!”

“Yes.” Martin Blackwood asserts, not quite meeting Jon’s eyes.

Jon sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Look. I came up here to find out what was interfering with R0BB1—ugh, with Robbie’s sleep schedule. They’ve obviously been up all night with you, so they’re sleeping during the day when they’re a diurnal species. Bad for them and their socialization in the long term.”

“Oh.” Martin Blackwood looks down, eyes shining and sad. “I didn’t…”

“But now.” Jon lets out a laugh that sounds only mildly hysterical. “Now I will need to go to Director Bouchard about this. This is… It’s...”

“Oh.”

Martin Blackwood fiddles with the book’s dustjacket, shifting it up and down the book proper.

“Am I going to get fired for this?”

Director Bouchard isn’t the only one waiting outside the tank room when Jon gets in the next morning, in thankfully dry socks.

Martin Blackwood isn’t a surprise, nervously fidgeting with the sleeves of his soft-looking jumper and desperately stifling yawns behind one hand. The way the light reflects off of his curls is much more distracting under the fluorescents than under Jon’s phone torch.

The bald gentlemen dressed like what a rich person must think a sea captain looks like is a surprise though.

“Jon, this is Captain Peter Lukas, FR3Y’s sponsor.” Director Bouchard oversees the introductions with a thin smile. “Peter, this is Dr. Jonathan Sims, head of the Rehabilitation department. He and Mr. Blackwood here apparently have something very interesting to share with us that could affect FR3Y’s development.”

“Nice to meet you.” Peter Lukas says airily, releasing the grip quickly. “Hopefully this isn’t a waste of our time!”

Martin gulps. Jon inclines his head but doesn’t answer, hoping his face doesn’t give away that he feels exactly how Martin sounds.

They enter the room to the sound of Tim shouting “All the animals have gone mad!” in the extremely poor Australian accent that means he’s quoting Finding Nemo again.

To be fair to him, it’s not a totally inaccurate assessment. All the mers in the main tank are clearly agitated to varying degrees, with 3M1L feint-charging at anything that comes close enough to the tank to be visible, D3S flitting from hiding place to hiding place in a swarm of sea lice, and P3TR4 digging deep into the sediment, with only flashes of tail and fins visible.

It’s even influenced FR3Y, who’s bobbing near the glass as if to see what’s going on.

And in the middle of it all, R0BB13, following Sasha and Tim around whenever they get close enough, floating aimlessly by the glass when they get too far away, expression exhausted and frantic, hands forming six letter signs over and over again.

M-A-R-T-I-N

To his credit, Martin Blackwood immediately goes up to the tank, gently tapping on the glass and cooing, “Hey, hey, easy there Robbie, easy duck, here I am, I’m here.”

R0BB13 darts down to press against the glass, hands splayed wide and relief evident in their body language. It’s enough to get 3M1L to swim over to investigate as Martin keeps soothing them, without any threatening overtures. Even D3S and P3TR4 venture slightly closer.

“My word.” Director Bouchard breathes behind him.

“…I’m sorry, what are we looking at?” Peter Lukas cuts in. “The fish makes a bunch of odd hand motions? Why do we care about this?”

Director Bouchard claps a hand over his eyes and releases a very tense breath. Jon would swear he hears his boss muttering, “…the wedding date wasn’t already arranged, I swear I’d divorce you again.”

“Jon!” Sasha practically collides with him on one side. “Did you know about this?? That, that R0BB13 can communicate using BSL? Do you understand what this means? All previous communicative studies originated back in the 50s and relied on adult mers brought in for temporary captivity or attempting to teach adolescents to pronounce human language words, but their vocal cords aren’t built for that, so people just assumed they were learning animals on par with corvids and no real steps were taken to test the results of those examinations, when actually they do have the capacity to understand, just not the means or inclination to communicate that to us!”

Tim leans against him from the other. “Do you think that means that every time we were talking about 3M1L’s crush on…you-know-who, he could understand us?”

“You.” Sasha quips. “He could understand you. Because you were the one blabbing about it all the time.”

“You helped.” Tim snarks back.

“I did not—!”

“At any rate.” Jon shrugs off two of his three research assistants and faces his boss. “I hope that this convinces you of the validity of my proposal?”

Director Bouchard visibly has to tear his gaze away from the mers and gives Jon what he thinks might actually be a more genuine smile. “Well, I’ll admit that I was…skeptical, at first. And it will be a bit awkward to find another night shift replacement on such short notice.”

Martin stiffens, turning back to them. “I-I’m sorry, but what, what are you talking about?”

Director Bouchard tilts his head to the side. “Your promotion to the day shift, of course. The work you’ve done so far is far too valuable not to be recognized, and Dr. Sims here was very insistent of the potential upsides of you help monitoring and potentially replicating its effects. I assure you the move will come with a pay raise, as Captain Lukas here has helpfully agreed to subsidize.”

Peter Lukas grumbles, “Oh, have I now.” under his breath, only to be met with what appears to be Director Bouchard’s elbow to his side.

Sasha is giggling to herself gleefully, muttering about the differences in sign language and whether what language the humans a mer first came into contact with spoke could in any way influence the ease of learning.

Tim is grinning easily, “It’ll be a shame to lose the tea, but how about it, Marto? Want to help out with the problem children during the day?”

The man still looks slightly lost, as if this is all some kind of practical joke he’s waiting for the punchline to.

Jon coughs, “I know we got off on the wrong foot, and I do apologize for my…behavior towards you, last night. But I do sincerely believe you would be an asset to the research we’re hoping to start with them here. If nothing else, your tastes in literature should be enriching enough to be its own reward.”

Martin Blackwood’s smile is even more distracting than any of his other features put together.

Jon feels an instant commiseration with 3M1L at the way Tim starts shooting him knowing glances and snickering.

#mermay #mermay 2022 #the magnus archives #tma #jon sims #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #tim stoker #sasha james #elias bouchard #peter lukas #lonelyeyes #timsasha #if you squint #could be platonic or romantic #fear avatar oc #des fuentes macías #robbie #emil walpole #petra ito #frey lukas #gerrymichael #only mentioned but it’s there #mild body horror #what if we made a scientific breakthrough about mermaids using kindness and literature #and we were both boys #literally the last possible day

[grizzlyofthesea]

First Day on the Job!

I just started a summer internship at my local science center, and I already know it's going to be a blast. Today was my "day of play," where I got to just go around and experience things like a guest would. I think I have one tomorrow, too, which I'm also hyped for! But anyway...

It was awesome.

First and foremost, I made sure to stop by all the permanent exhibits. The first floor is themed around water and our city's river ecology, so we have some freshwater animals in aquariums and terrariums. My favorite is this bullfrog. :)

The second floor is themed around Mars exploration and colonization. I thought I wouldn't be interested since the idea of colonizing Mars kind of rubs me the wrong way, but it's done in a very engaging and aesthetically pleasing manner. There are lots of plants on display throughout the exhibit, which I found to be a pleasant surprise! There's also this adorable miniature railroad/village next to the Mars display that shows off some landmarks from the city between the late 19th century and the 1940s. My favorite part was always this replica of Luna Park (guest starring Taylor Swift by the carousel since there's a Taylor Swift weekend coming up):

The third floor is dedicated to the human body and its inner workings. There's a lot to play with here, including a little game where you have to eat germs as a white blood cell. I played it a couple times, and I was pretty happy with my score the second time around. :)

They also have a little monitor where you can rotate and pull apart a model of a human skull, so I made this beautiful creature.

The fourth floor is the most kid-centric area in the building, but there's still plenty for older guests to do. It's mostly themed around construction and Lego, so if you like playing and building with Lego, this is the place for you. There's also a section off to the side centered around electricity and renewable energy, which is neat, and an earthquake simulator that's left over from when the floor was entirely weather-themed.

So that covers most of the main building. BUT WAIT! THERE'S MORE!

There's a sports science/fitness themed building adjacent to the main building. It's a fun way to present how exercise affects the body, and how the human body functions in general. There's a batting cage where you can test your prowess with a baseball bat, a rock climbing wall, a few basketball hoops, a giant Operation table, and a ton more. What caught my attention this time, though, was a CPR simulator. I thought it was a fun way to brush up on my skills as a lifeguard...and Dr. Mike was there, too.

Behind the main building is one of the center's oldest exhibits: the USS Requin, a Cold War era submarine. Walking through it was definitely nostalgic, though the doorways were tiny. I have no idea how people could actually live in there without going insane!

And I can't not talk about the giant movie theater inside the main building! I stopped by for a show this afternoon, and it truly is giant. The theater seats 250 people, and the screen is 38 feet by 70 feet (11.58 meters by 21.34 meters)! You have to see it to believe it. It didn't even fit in my phone camera when I took this picture from the middle of the room!

I had to stop by the gift shop, too. I got my brother a freeze-dried "astronaut" ice cream sandwich since he's been joking about wanting one, and for myself, I got these little dudes:

Clockwise from the upper right, they are: a red blood cell, plasma, a platelet, a white blood cell, and an antibody (with a little antigen attached to it). I think the company that sells them is called GIANTmicrobes. Aren't they cute?

Would you believe me if I said that I still have a bunch of stuff to check out tomorrow? Because I do. There are all sorts of shows and demonstrations in the various science stages and the planetarium. I want to see a few, especially one at the stage I'm interning with!

I have a busy day ahead of me, but it will be the absolute best kind of busy. I think the more serious internship duties will be fun, too. :)

#science #carnegie science center #day of play #fun #first day #giant microbes #frogs #luna park #rangos giant cinema #dr mike

[angelfoodcake222]

In honor of my newfound love for Mermay, have a silly little piece I whipped up for the TFA mermen/mermechs (???) & on oc of mine.

Details: Megaladon Megatron (Megalatron) [TFA], feeding time, fem!oc, 'do no harm, take no crap' type lady, prosthetic limb, depictions of gore/severed animal limbs & pieces, bodily harm to protagonist, mermech x human (sort of). Research done with Google.

The mighty Megalodon, whose name translates to "big tooth", was once thought to be an extinct species of mackerel shark that lived 23 to 3.6 million years ago, from the Early Miocene to the Pliocene epochs. It was formerly believed to be a member of the family Lamnidae & a close relative of the infamous great white shark. I am living proof that the whole extinction thing is a load of rotten chum with the missing left arm to prove it.

Oh, don't worry! I have a new one, it's multi-functional, waterproof, & ultra-durable; made out of reinforced, repurposed Galvanized Steel a generous Lab member in the construction field of this enormous enigma of a foundation we (the other thousands of workers & myself) were all brought to as a sort of league of expandable brought in from too many places to name. It's almost like having my old arm back.

Almost. I'm fairly sure I gave the clerk a fright when I said, not asked, said I'd be back to working with that Mackrel whether anyone or thing wanted me to or not. -

I hauled a large bovine leg from the bin & attached a titanium cable thicker than my wrist before lobbing it far into the considerably sized tank; manually reeling the still bleeding limb from where it landed to my perch that had been reinforced upon my little incident. Cute. I felt a soft tug on the other end, signaling that he had taken the bait, before yanking it out of the soft grip to speed back to me.

Daunting blobs of near featureless reds glared in vexation at first, quickly shifting to confusion, then to a sort of malicious smug shape as their owner crept up from his artificial tarn's depths with a low sound of amusement.

"Ah~, my snack has returned. What a surprise." Whetted tongue sliding over many honed fangs, his smug vocals didn't retreat or falter from bouncing off of the walls as I yoinked the B/W piece of beef from his stalking claws to untie it, taking a moment to speak smugly myself.

"Is it though? The surprise? I had to have been assigned to you for one reason or another & you know it. Just like every other worker down here & upstairs. Did you think they'd hire some little girl to look over your wellbeing, Mega Mackeral?" He hates that name; it mocks his species & his real name, Megatron. I know that. I didn't care about his feelings right now.

'Upstairs' is a public, civil aquarium where the far smaller, far safer merfolk are in view of visitors. This, like every other place in the town-sized compound, is also where those who are paired with the appropriate aquatic partner(s) via three tests; intelligence, endurance, & psychology. As you can guess, the score & answers determine who the person(s) would be paired with & who they'd be kept away from. Simply put, it's an Aquarium Staff Aptitude Test.

A lot of people were so sure they'd work with the stars of the show & not the darkness they gleam against. I was not one of them. I didn't hope to be above or below, just needed a job to keep myself busy & somehow ended up getting this guy. I guess my newfound persistence & patience drew a new line for him to cross.

"You are unlike any handler I've ever had in all my time within this wretched penitentiary, yet I've never learned your name." By now he was close enough to the catwalk for me to make out his many well-earned scars & the dots that are colored just a shade or two darker than his main shapes that made up his 'pupils'. That's right, I've never told him my name.

That explains the nicknames he's been calling me. 'Sardine', 'Fry', 'Guppie', 'Pup', 'Chum', all those & more that I can't remember the rest right now. Honestly, I thought he was flirting with me until he literally took a bite out of me.

The meat slips into the water & into his awaiting maw as I activate the claw clamp function to haul a thicker piece of cattle into my titanium clasp with a huffy chuckle. Imagine that; one of the biggest, badest predators currently known to the marine field flirting with his equivalent of an horderve on legs. Preposterous. I won't be so foolish this time, no matter how smooth his voice is on the surface; there are many undertows to be wary of.

"The names Aveta Ceres Eleftheria, but everyone calls me ACE." I toss the next piece in just as he caught it between his claws with an intrigued drone, examining it while speaking with an eloquence nobody I know of aside from myself or that Magnus guy upstairs.

"Goddess of fertility, freshwater, & childbirth. Goddess of the harvest & spring. Goddess of freedom & liberty. All very befitting, Miss Eleftheria." His words are decadent & alluring with the undertow's pulls worsening with each passing syllable. How many mates could he have reeled in before coming with only his voice as bait!? No matter.

"That means a lot coming from someone whose name translates to 'Great Machine'. Greek prefixes & suffixes must be a hobby of yours, huh?" His chuckle reverberates through the tank, the metal of the wrap-around catwalk, & my ribs, earning a suppressed sound of amusement from myself.

Time crept by as he munched on his assortment of meats & I filled out some paperwork regarding his meal, types of meat given & when they were given to him, his estimated weight, & so on. A questionnaire of health questions evolved into inquiries about my life with the new limb & how I'm adapting to it, how others reacted to it so far, eventually moving into philosophical pondering. Everything from the vastness of the universe to minuscule subjects like favorite foods or people.

It seemed like he was baiting a trap with honey & he thought of me as a mindless fly buzzing up to collect it. How amusing. Before he could spring his possible surprise, I stand & collect everything I needed before boarding the lift to return to the floor where I roll the cart out the door with my prosthetic limb's steady grip keeping it from slipping away or hitting the back of my company approved shoes.

Giving the clipboard of questions a light adjustment under my innate, stitched up, inked limb, I turn & wave with my metal appendage, flashing a smile almost as bright as the light bouncing off of my limb to highlight his eyes as if his last name were 'Gomez'. The walk filled with chores was pleasantly easy & laced with satisfaction from seeing that look on Mega Mackerel's face. Not a bewildered or stunned look; intrigued. I wonder how long I can go without replacing another part of me~.

Thank you guys for reading my first Mermay piece! I hope you enjoyed it!

#mermay #may #mermaid #I've never written something like this so please be mindful in the comments #mature

[prometheusinitiative]

Map | Floor 5 | The Facility

Back to Maps Floor 4: The Rec Center

The Aquarium

Dark and winding hallways are framed by floor-to-ceiling tanks, thick curved glass serving as windows to the vast blue beyond. Sea creatures swim lazy circles to-and-fro; Schools of knife-like tangs, strangely spotted breams, sharks with too many rippling gills, and bottom feeders with dizzying patterns are only the beginning. All manner of teeth, eye, and limb co-exist in this haven of deep blue, and you can’t even say for certain that they aren’t real animals… just that you’ve never seen the likes of them before.

The tanks don’t seem to have a back wall. Actually, it feels like you’re walking beneath the ocean itself. In the far, dark distance, blurry silhouettes loom, giving you an overwhelming sense of smallness.

Smaller paths lead away from the overwhelming tank, into dark rooms with small capsules for jellyfish and octopi. Whale song plays softly in the background.

Doors to the side lead to a back hall, shiny white walls stained with water damage and dirt. Tanks hold fishy smelling food, while tubing moves water from the exhibits to noisy filtering machines.

Cold Storage

Maybe it's good that this place is hard to wander into unless you're looking for it. Tanks become large white chest freezers. Tubing becomes chains and hooks. The back rooms shift at some point into the Cold Storage room, where the sheer chill keeps the air dry and the smell of meat at bay.

Beef racks hang in rows so dense they almost form curtains of marbled red and white. Tiled floor becomes a metal walkway which bridges to acrylic polished concrete, stained red in channels that follow the path from the walkway to metal grilles lining the wall.

Testing Rooms

One might be relieved to find themselves in a hallway again. At least... briefly. Faded green tile adorns the walls. There are faded white doors with reinforced glass viewing slits and heavy duty latches-- barred from the outside.

Inside some are padded rooms, each cushion exactly a square meter large. Others are medical offices, with examination chairs, cabinets, and broken laptops. EKG machines, X-rays machines, and other medical equipment can be found, still functional. One can even find a whole storage closet full of medical supplies, including IV bags, bandages, and medicines.

The Morgue

Just down the hall are the double push doors of the Morgue.

Cabinets line the right wall, presumably with tools and supplies-- disinfectants, soaps, preservatives, makeup. Deep sinks frame the cabinets on both ends. Steel tables stand at the center-- three in total-- with bright lamps and side tables by each.

On the left wall are the rows and columns of small square doors-- refrigerators for body storage. Most are accompanied with a little light, indicating vacancy.

RED shines the lights for refrigerators labelled ITHIKA and TRACY.

#map #facility #ch2 #floor 5

[munnweiss]

Detecting salt in a koi pond: How to do it. Is it easy to tell, is it easy to determine?

Keeping your koi pond's water quality under control is one of the most important things you can do to keep them healthy, and knowing how to check the salt level is one of the most important steps you can take. Your koi may still need your help, even with perfectly healthy water, especially if they are sick. In addition to treating diseases, koi salt treats many conditions affecting these fish. A small amount of salt can greatly improve the quality of the water in your pond, even if the fish are freshwater. Keeping the salt concentration under control is important to avoid dangerous spikes in concentration. If you want to know the salt content of a koi pond, how can you do that? Just how is salt useful? From routine maintenance to more intricate parasite or sickness issues, salt is needed in aquatic environments in a variety of situations. Whether you keep ponds or tanks, this cheap therapy can solve many problems. Pet stores use salt to keep the fish healthy in their aquariums while they are waiting to be adopted. As far as treating parasitic infections goes, salt is essential. You can use salt to treat a wide range of pond problems, from minor disorders like Ich to more worrying illnesses like Trich. When salt is kept on hand at all times, you can quickly and easily solve most pond issues. You get bonus points if you also set up a place for your ill koi to live. koi for sale of koi is accelerated by salt as well, which benefits their immune systems. Salt is acquired by your koi through its normal metabolic processes and waste accumulation. It is best to keep them in freshwater, but they will struggle to recover from sickness in saltwater. If too much waste is being held in the water, adding salt will restore the balance, and organisms will be able to recover much more quickly. The pond does not need to always contain salt, though. Koi prefer freshwater, so saltwater is only recommended for sick or new fish. Keeping salt only in quarantine ponds prevents healthy koi from getting too much salt, which is fatal in the worst cases and can cause long-term damage in the milder cases. What is salt's function? Your koi may benefit from salt if it is ill or in quarantine. Make a pail of water and put the recommended amount of aquatic salt in it. As a result, salt won't build up in one spot, which can happen if it is sprinkled on the quarantined area. Your koi's skin and gills could be seriously damaged if you do this. In two to three weeks, add saltwater a little at a time every day. It will prevent a sudden rise in salt levels that would harm your fish. As a sort of hail Mary, you can feed everything at once if the koi is extremely sick. Otherwise, it's best to be patient and allow the therapy to take effect gradually. Several partial water changes can be performed over a few days to get rid of the salt after your koi have healed. Since their bodies are accustomed to the slightly salty waters surrounding them, they will avoid suffering a salt shock. Salt Levels in Koi Ponds You can check the salt levels in your koi pond more accurately and reliably by investing in an aquatic salt monitor. It is affordable and durable, so you can use it over and over again to measure pond salt levels. The test calculates the salt content in the water and gives a percentage that can be compared to safe salinity levels. A koi pond must have a salinity between 03% and 06% to be used in most medical applications. It is usually enough to treat most problems unless you have a doctor who treats aquatic animals or a breeder you trust who says otherwise. To obtain a white coating on koi, the salinity of the water can be raised to a very high level, or as much salt as the water can dissolve. At the end of the process, the koi are returned to freshwater after getting rid of all the surface parasites. This should only be performed under the supervision of a knowledgeable expert in koi care.

#koi fish #koi fish for sale

[passivenovember]

mama said to smile while I still have teeth.

(or) Post Starcourt, a very different Billy Hargrove gets his wisdom teeth removed.

--

In a moment of weakness and textbook junior year assholery, Steve gets his stomach ripped out and fed to him for suggesting that Billy could take the bus.

And it’s not without reason.

Hopper and Joyce have work. And Robin would ask too many questions--why the shaved head, why the ratty black hoodie and sweatpants, why the perpetual vow of silence--and the only one of the kids that has their permit is Dustin.

But Max behaves as if none of that matters. Looks at Steve as if he set the house on fire himself.

“Or you could take him.” She sneers. Like that’s somehow a good idea. “You have a car.”

“Billy wouldn’t get in a car with me even if you paid him.” 

Steve doesn’t say he’d rather face a barrel of Demodogs one handed than be left alone with Billy. Would rather lick black slime off his own dick than feel those silent, cool blue eyes pouring like ice water down the ridges of his skin.

Steve wants to say it. Doesn’t. When Max starts crying. “His legs don’t work as good anymore.”

“Billy gave me a concussion.”

“He’s got gas money.” She says, voice winding tight with desperation. 

And Steve despises the painful, weeping grip of her fingers when they close around his forearm. Hates that she cares so much for someone who could never care for her.

“I know it’s not much.” Max swallows thickly. “I know he used to be a piece of shit, but he’s--”

“Different.” Steve says heavily, scrubbing at his forehead. “I know.”

--

Billy slides into the passenger seat with a thermos in one hand and a cranberry muffin in the other and Steve isn’t used to it, the way his body seems to have deflated. Limbs cut from marianette strings, hanging limp as if gravity hasn’t quite learned what to do with them. 

Billy places the muffin and the thermos on the dashboard between them, and.

Steve expects something.

A thank you, which could come later. A hello, which should come now.

Billy nods at the dashboard.

Steve jots into action. “Oh. These aren’t for you?”

Billy grunts, reaching to pass the goodies over as if Steve were incapable of doing it himself. The thermos is warm in Steve’s hand. Sturdy. 

“Coffee?” He asks, jerking with surprise when Billy mutters; “Hazelnut.” In a voice as soft as feather down. 

Steve waits for Billy to say something else, but. 

Billy doesn’t. He just turns and peers out the passenger side window, into the gentle swell of rain that’s started to fall.

“Thanks. Thank you.” Steve says. He starts the car. Lets it warm, and. 

Tries not to feel like this is the first time their bodies have had to reacquaint themselves with one another. 

Tries not to marvel at how beautiful silvery thin lines can be. Running from the shell of an ear and disappearing, quick, into the hood nestled around broad shoulders. 

Steve rubs his hands together, tearing his eyes away. “First time at the dentist?”

And Billy doesn’t say anything. 

Never says anything, anymore, but. That doesn’t stop the conversation from feeling communal. Shared.

“I got my wisdom teeth out when I was fourteen.” Steve peers through the windshield. It’s raining harder now. “Don’t remember much about the whole thing. Mom says I tried to stop the aquarium fish from drowning. And that I had to be double belted on the way home--”

“Will it hurt?” Billy turns to look at him, and. His eyes are welling up. Cheeks and nose red, as if stung by October winds. 

Billy whispers, “I wanted Max to come but she had school.” 

His hand is covered by the sleeve of his hoodie, fabric scrubbing rough at the stubble along his jaw. “Did they hurt you?” Billy asks, and.

Steve doesn’t like the way he says it. 

Like there really is something to be afraid of, at the core of it all. Like no one has ever considered the possibility.

“It’s not so bad.” Steve’s heart gives a painful, gripping thud. “You get a free ice pack out of the deal and decent high from the silly gas, if you’re lucky.”

Billy nods. “We’re gonna be late.”

Which. “Yeah, sorry.” 

“It’s alright.”

“We’ll get you there lickety-split.” Steve pulls out of the driveway, fingers gripping the wheel when Billy places the still-warm muffin in his lap.

--

He sticks around for the procedure just to stop Billy from looking like he’s being dropped at his first day of kindergarten. The waiting room is bright. Warm and colorful, plush couches stocked full of overstuffed pillows. All within throwing distance of machine labeled free coffee :)

Not a bad dig, all things considered, but.

Billy says Steve doesn’t have to wait around. Doesn’t even have to come back at all. The nurse calls his name and Billy stands, shoulders lined with tension, before turning to whisper, “I’ll take the bus back to Neil’s.”

And Steve knows. Gets it. 

The universe running a test. An experiment that will prove whether Steve’s really got a heart under all that chest hair. 

Steve lifts his Highlights magazine. “I’m good.”

“Really?”

“Dude, It’s pouring outside,” Steve says, shaking his hair out for good measure. “I’ll just wait. In case you’re too high to function.”

Billy looks like he wants to say something else, so. Steve gives his full attention. Plans on the preverbal thank you that’ll probably never come, but. The nurse calls that name again. 

Billy Hargrove.

And Billy turns to go, hands tangled in the sleeves of his hoodie. 

--

His cheeks are swollen, like. 

A chipmunk. 

Stuffed full of little cotton pads that could be acorns. That are acorns, Billy insists, when the nurse brings Steve back to the operation room. He’s parked on the dentist bench. Curled into a ball with a thumb in his mouth when Steve rounds the corner. 

“Steve,” Billy says thickly. “They took my teeth out but I have acorns.” He reaches across the space between them, fingers grasping Steve’s wrist tightly.

Too tight, but. 

Steve can’t bring himself to care when the nurse says, “Billy, take your thumb out of you mouth.”

And Billy says. “I need to suck on something cold.” He pulls Steve right up to the edge of the bench, sitting with a serious glint in his eye. “Our acorns will be good for winter, right?”

He sways, nearly falling off the leather table, so.

Steve grasps his shoulder. Puts him back in place. “Probably? I don’t think acorns go bad.”

“We gotta make sure, ‘cause I don’t want you to starve.” Billy slurs, dropping to dead weigh when the nurse gets an arm underneath him and asks Steve to get the kid on his feet. 

Billy lands somewhere against Steve’s ribs, swaying dramatically as bright red drool slides over his chin. 

The nurse swears under her breath, going at it with a towel. 

Billy swats her hand away. He staggers as Steve thanks the nurse and leads them into the waiting room. 

“You’re so pretty, Stever.” Billy reaches out again, fingertips poking Steve’s eyelid. “Can’t starve for the winter. Gotta get pretty boys their acorns--”

“Stop poking me--”

“Acorn soup.” Billy sings. “Acorn pie and casserole and lollipops covered in sugar.”

Steve manages to get the doors open with zero help from Billy, chuckling as warm, soft palms circle around his shoulder blades. 

They’re hugging. 

In the rain. 

At the dentist’s office.

Steve hugs back, squawking when Billy’s nose brushes against his heartbeat. “C’mon, dude, we gotta--”

“Will you carry me, Stever?”

“No.” Steve says, manhandling Billy from his chest to his ribcage, determined to make it across the lot in one piece. “You’re solid muscle, there’s no way I could carry you.”

Billy makes a noise, pretty pink lips forming a pout when Steve looks over at him. 

“I got all the acorns ready for winter and you can’t carry me to the car?” Billy grumbles, leaning against the side of the Beamer while Steve gets his key into the lock. 

Steve untangles himself from the arms that fold around his waist. “Billy--”

“You smell like grass.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“No, like sweet grass.” Billy cackles, doubling over at his own joke, and. Pulling Steve down with him. “Sweet ass, right?”

“You’re insane.” Steve whispers, somehow out of breath from. The hands on his neck. He let’s Billy pet through his hair and then Steve yanks on the door handle, opening it, like, “Alright. Get in.”

Billy has more blood on his face. “Wanna sit with you.”

“We will.”

“Can I lay on your chest?”

Steve’s face hurts from smiling. “You won’t fit.”

“I could!” Billy whimpers, jerking away from Steve as he tries to get the blood off his chin. “I could be like a kitty cat--”

“Would you just--” Steve gets his hands on him, wiping at Billy’s mouth with his thumb. “Hold still, alright?”

“Alright.” Billy kisses Steve’s finger. Chaste and quick, gone before either really know what’s happening. Those blue eyes pull Steve in, drink him down. “How come you’re so pretty?” Billy asks. 

And. “Dunno,” Steve says, sounding just as out of breath as he feels. Like they’ve been running laps, and. 

Steve thinks maybe they have.

All around Hawkins. Through the years. Past each other. 

Billy holds still under the weight of ten fingers before frowning. Sticking his little swollen lip out. “Can we go home now?”

Steve backs away, gripping the edge of the door. “Sure.”

“Not to Neil’s,” Billy mutters to himself, leaning into the leather seat when Steve gets his limbs folded into the car. He cranes his head, eyes huge and watery. “Can I hang out with you?”

Steve moves to close the door. “Sure.”

Billy stops him. “Are you mad at me?”

“No, Billy.”

“Then why are you trying to close the door?” Billy demands, peering through narrowed eyes. 

Steve chuckles at that, squeezing the fingers that curl into the palm of his hand. “We gotta close the door so we can drive the car back to my house.”

Billy yanks his hand away. “Your house.” He says, as if tasting the words on his tongue.

Steve nods. “Do you want to go to my house?”

“Do you have macaroni and cheese?”

“Yeah, I can.” Steve wills himself to stop smiling. “I can make some after you take a nap.”

Billy stops the door from closing again. “I’ll be cold if I try to sleep.” 

And he says it like.

No one’s ever believed him. Billy speaks with an anchor in his voice, the weight of it pulling Steve in. Forward, until he understands. 

Steve grips the edge of the door. 

Nods. Let’s Billy know that there are ways around it. 

Billy’s crying, and. Steve doesn’t want to see him cry anymore. Every again. They’ve been through too much. He takes Billy’s hand and squeezes tight, smiling softly when cool blue eyes peer up at him. 

“Then we can eat macaroni and watch T.V.--”

“We can?”

“Yeah,” Steve says softly. “And when you’re ready to go home I’ll take you. Keep you safe.”

He moves to close the door, chucking when a firm, sure hand holds it in place. 

Billy stares at him. “What if I never wanna go home again?”

Steve thinks about it, tapping his knuckles on the hood of the car. He shrugs. “Guess we’ll cross that bridge when we get there, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Billy says.

This time, when the door is closed, Steve runs to the other side. Not wanting to miss a single moment.

#harrigrove #they’re getting fluff and then a shit load of angst #and then more fluff #love my babies #wisdom teeth

[seancekitsch]

Strictly Confectional.

a/n: part whatever of the prize buck series, slight spoilers of tua season 2 so you HAVE been warned but like if youve read the comics nbd, smut warnings, klaus being sorta dominant for once, slight sensory deprivation kink, unprotected norty bits (wrap it up folx), canon drug references, rehab references, drug use, cursing, the title of this fic is from a lemon demon song which warrants its own warning, my usual run of the mill warnings etc. 

Halloween is a fucking ordeal when you work at an occult shop and date a personified ouija board, and that’s putting it lightly. Even more of an ordeal considering Klaus decides to go cold turkey for the holiday week without warning you. Of course it was easy to figure out what was going on. The his and her’s morning joints you typically had resting on the windowsill became yours and yours joints. He had exactly one beer since last saturday, and halloween was still a day away. It was starting to get a little spooky. Your boss Margie hated Klaus on a regular day, claiming he threw off the vibes her store was supposed to give off. She was a highly superstitious woman and you wouldn't put it past her to actually notice if Klaus agitated any of the spirits that were probably attached to the things you sell. Realistically, Klaus’ presence did in fact stir up the spirits in her store. Lots of victorian era mourning hair bracelets and taxidermy probably made before your birth would do that. He always claimed the store was extremely loud, but still liked to visit you when your boss was running errands because you were there, and he can't help that he gets bored easily. Klaus’ being there never went unnoticed by your boss, even if he was gone by the time she came back. But this whole cold turkey thing was new for him. Even Diego and Ben said he had only tried to do this one other time, and it was during the apocalypse that never happened that you still think might have been a case of mass hallucination. You weren't sure what his reasoning for it was, since he was just sober enough to conjure Ben any time enough for you to see him and speak to him, even if he was a glowing blue apparition that you compared to the Tupac hologram from Coachella that only appeared for a few minutes. This week was a lot of Klaus having the usual headaches and shaking that come with coming off alcohol, but probably heightened because you know the ghosts don't just shut up when he wants them to. He hasn't been sleeping well unless spooned by you and hushed to sleep with the cool beginnings of fall air blowing through the window.

Friday morning you get your first cryptic answer as to what's been going on with him. 

“The veil is thinner on Saturday, I want to try something I haven't been able to do since the sixties,” is the only explanation he’ll give as he kisses your fingertips and holds the door open for you at the shop. Of course, it has something to do with the sixties. Normally you wouldn't pay much attention to his family’s antics because you knew something was going on there that probably didn't concern you, the exception being that time he pulled you back to the sixties briefly and you were handed a briefcase meant for an old man before ending up back at home. You still aren't sure how you made it back to your shift at work that day but Margie hasn’t looked at you the same since. She probably thinks you're a freak like your partner. Which, fair. 

His answer doesn't give you that much clarification, but it's better than nothing which is usually what he gives you in warning for his ideas. But anything testing the limits of his powers is usually good for the both of you, because it's a testament to growth and confidence just as much as the pieces of furniture you're slowly accumulating. Sure, there are still bad days. There are still terrible days for the both of you. The more he learns to control his abilities and the more furnished your apartment becomes, it's almost more like you're becoming real functioning people and you can consider yourselves part of that human race you've heard so much about. 

Your shift at work is… different. Friday is typically a slow day, but the holiday weekend packs your store in a way you can barely keep up with. The quiet baroque music generally wafting through the air is interrupted by quiet “ewwws” and “what is that?”s from people who normally wouldn't be setting foot in a store like this being dragged in by their spookier friends. You've sold hundreds more than you usually would, but the quiet almost holy spell of the place is broken today. At least the day passes quickly with all the sales you make.

You can feel Klaus coming before he even presses his face into the glass window, smushing his lips and cheek into the glass like one of those slugs in an aquarium. Maybe there is something to be said about the veil being thin and all that. When his tongue darts out to join the rest of his face on the cold surface, you giggle, but then begin to wonder if you're getting a taste of what all the ghosts see when he tries to get in contact with them. He pulls back and waves before putting a hand on the door, a silent question of if it's safe to enter. You shake your head no because your boss is in the back room, but he only has to wait ten more minutes. 

Those ten minutes pass slower than the entire shift before that. Just knowing he’s outside has you almost itching for his touch. Since when were you so needy that ten minutes felt like torture? Blame it on the fucking veil or whatever. Your hands are clammy by the time you clock out and bid Margie goodbye,while she reminds you to show up at work in costume tomorrow. Only she doesn't know you fully plan to come dressed in one of your partner’s silly superhero outfits from when he was a teenager. 

Klaus is all too happy to kiss you open mouthed the second your figure is out of your workplace, and you willingly ignore that it's the same mouth he just smeared all over the side of a storefront because you're all too happy to kiss him back. One thing about his little cold turkey experiment that you’ve been loving is how potent his sex drive has become. His hands grip your hips like a vice as you continue kissing on the short three block walk and up the flight of stairs to your apartment and travel down to your thighs as you fumble with the keys in the dark of the setting sun not facing the only window in the building that faces the front door of your apartment. It's always a testament to your will when he gets like this as there's nothing you'd like better than to just ride him on the steps in front of your door, but there's just something about doing it in the privacy of your apartment that you like better.

But it's seconds before you feel the key sink into the hole and the tell tale click of everything being pushed into place, and the door gives way almost not soon enough for the two of you to clumsily barrel through it. Now Klaus under normal circumstances is a sexual being, but this cold turkey sobriety and focus is new, and makes you feel wanted- maybe loved- in a way you've never felt before in your life. It's not just that he wants to get off, he wants you. He wants to get off with and for you. Specifically you. Which is the sexiest feeling in the world, you've decided. 

You barely put your bag down before he's pulling your coat from your shoulders behind you and growling in your ear. 

“Now we’re trying something new tonight, okay baby?” you barely get out an affirmative nod before he finishes, “good, just trust me, I've got you in safe hands.”

You let him take the lead as he strips you bare in the middle of the studio apartment, which feels much bigger than usual, maybe because he’s still fully clothed. His movements are greedy, hands sparing no touch on even an inch of your skin, grabbing and caressing as if it was his property, which in a way, you'd be glad to grant him ownership. He takes control of you, your body not moving in any direction he does not will himself. 

“Close your eyes,” he whispers as his hands find their way to your chest, and you do. You hear him sigh, and maybe a breath of “that's right” as his hand slides up to touch your face, making sure you listen to directions as well as he wants you to. You can hear him start to breathe a little heavier as he presses his leather clad crotch into your ass. He chuckles as you return the pressure, wiggling your hips a little to entice him, before he spins you around and presses your hand into the buttons that hold his pants up on his bony hips. Your eyes are still closed, that’s good, he thinks as he rewards you with a kiss. Your hands make quick work of the buttons, despite your impaired senses, and he shimmies the pants to his ankles, where his boots prevent them from falling any further. 

“Wait a tic- wait, just…” he trails off and falters a little, you notice, before commanding you again, “stand there and touch yourself. I gotta get these boots off but if you open your eyes it'll ruin what I have planned for us.”

You comply and focus on the smells and sounds of the room as you part your legs a little further and trail your fingers down. There's a heady scent in the air from stale weed smoked this morning and the sickening sweetness of the strawberry hookah set out and packed for tonight, which now would probably be left to the wayside, you note, as you feel wetness collect on your fingertips even at first contact. You focus on the sound of his laces as they smack the hardwood floor as your middle finger rubs slow calculated tight circles on your clit. You don't dare pick up the pace or try to touch yourself in earnest at first, unsure of his intentions for the night as a soft sigh of a moan leaves your parted lips. You hear a loud dull thud, and then another. He must be done, you think, as your fingers pick up the speed, just a little, just enough to make you whine at your own actions. And he is, his boots are discarded near the door, but this isn't a view he's going to give up that easily. Its not every day someone is obeying his commands, fucking themselves and whimpering his name uninhibited like this. He smiles as he watches, and you can feel his eyes on you. You wonder what you must look like, shameless, wanton, on display for him. But then you feel a hand wrap around the wrist of the hand that's between your legs and he pulls it away from your body. Then the chill of the fall air hitting your wet fingers, then his wet mouth engulfs them, sucking. The action sending shockwaves up your arm to the joint of your shoulder, the entire arm pliant for him to use as he wishes. This is what being with Klaus does to you. Your body instinctively wants him to use it. Once he's content with licking every drop of you off your fingers, he moves your hand from his mouth to on his shoulders, and surges up to gather you in his arms, yours moving to grab him and stabilize yourself in return. He carries you to what you assume is your bed and settles you on his naked lap, his hard cock finding shelter between your thighs. He kisses you hard and deep, focusing on his tongue greeting yours, then pushing it out of his way as he explores your mouth. You've been so good, keeping your eyes shut for this long, and tells you so as he grinds up, the head of his cock just barely brushing against where you want him most.

His hips rock up and down, up and down, tantalizing and teasing you. Your moans and keens whenever he happens to hit the mark are music to his ears, something he holds so incredibly dear to him. Even with your eyes closed, when he looks up at them he can still see the love behind them. It's an acceptance he’s been struggling to find in modern times, until you. It’s the full trust you give him with your body and mind. He remembers every scrap and detail you’ve given him since he first tucked you into bed that day in the clinic, and hoards it like treasure. The way you’ve slowly opened up to him like dropping a trail of breadcrumbs for him to follow, your willingness to work to give him what you can. You’re guarded for a lot of the reasons he’s so open. But you make the choice to be open to him, and he’s thankful. And as he shifts your bodies to thrust inside you, as your mouth falls open into an ‘o’ shape, he decides he wants to take everything you’ll give him, bask in the affection you readily shine on him, as long as you’ll shine on him. Tonight he wants to impress you.

You’re being so good, really so good. You haven’t opened your eyes once, not even to peek. You’ve just held on tight and let Klaus take the lead. It’s kind of kinky; really. Letting him be in control, losing one of your senses, blindly kissing the parts of skin you can reach, which you think is his chest and shoulder. Even as he shifts you, holding your legs now as he shifts the position a little more. It’s not uncomfortable, but never a position you’ve been in before. You can tell by the way your thigh muscles quietly burn that you’re pretzeled up in his lap, with him thrusting deeply up into you.

The way his thrusts hit inside you is delicious, each time he bottoms out earns him another moan falling from your lips against his skin, always vocal for him. This time your moans are uncontrollable, the way he controls the action is undeniably sexy and undeniably the Klaus of it all, the way he can toe the line between gentle and rough, the care he puts into every motion. He makes sure to use his entire body to get you off, and tonight he’s really trying to go above and beyond.

“Okay-“ a moan from deep in his throat, “open your eyes. Don't scream!”

The first thing you see is the blank white smoothness of the wall, specifically where it kisses the ceiling. At just above eye level. Your head has to be, what, inches from the ceiling? and. wait. What?

If you weren’t clinging to him for dear life, you certainly were now. He hisses then groans at the feeling of your nails digging into him, sure to leave shallow little crescent moon marks on the tops of his biceps. The ceilings are tall enough that Klaus can stand on top of it without his head brushing the ceiling, and you were somehow floating right up there.

Immediately Klaus sees the panic that crosses your features and shushes you, comforting, but not unlike how someone tries to calm a child or a pet.

“Hey, look! I haven’t levitated since 1963. I thought it would be a nice surprise, I can stop if you need, we can lay down,” Ever the sweet man, he’s instantly trying to make sure this is okay or if he’s crossed a line. But you shake your head no. Honestly, fucking freaky at first, but then its fucking freaky, and you are down with it. Up with it.

“No, no... I like this. Do your worst.”

The words are barely out of your mouth before he leans back, bringing you with him. Now you can sit up, and give your body a little bit more space than he had been giving it before. You figure you could ride him like this and push against the ceiling for support, which actually, was Klaus’ whole idea behind this. Great minds think alike or whatever. So as he keeps thrusting you start to shift your hips back to meet his. It’s weird not having anything below you for leverage for your legs, but maybe if he does this again you can figure something out.

Instead it’s this steady grind, him up, you down. Now its less of an honest to god fuck and more of a writhing midair to make each other come.Instead of his worst like you’d asked, its incredibly intimate in a way you usually aren’t. But that's enough for the both of you. The ceiling does wonders to help your arms press you down into his pelvis, rocking yourself up and down on him while your legs dangled. You were honestly impressed by the way he was able to keep himself so horizontal. Maybe his being trained in combat as a teen gave him core muscles you didn't realize he had. All of these thoughts of muscles are quickly swallowed by Klaus, Klaus, and nothing but the way Klaus was making you feel at this very moment.

If any one would have seen the two of you climax, which happened at the same time for once in the hundreds of times now that you'd fornicated, one would have seen from the top of your window two legs go rigid before two bodies floated down back to where human bodies should be with surprising grace, the owners of those bodies kissing everywhere one each other that they could reach. He kissed your neck, your chest, your face, long strong fingers brushing your hair soothingly as his back hit the mattress. He slides out of you unceremoniously, at which you pout at the loss of him, but only to shift and tuck you into his side as his arms still cradled you close. 

“So, as lovely and thrilling as that was, why did the veil or whatever need to be thin for you to do that?”

“Well, it didn’t, but I wanted us to get in the holiday spirit a little more, like that scene in Poltergeist.” He punctuates the sentence with a kiss to your temple as he slides off the bed, and gingerly walks over to the kitchen. He’s turning on the stove, then using tongs to place a coal onto the heat.

“If I torch this for hookah, will you take this bowl with me?” as if everything that just happened was commonplace. An everyday occurrence.

All you can do is nod.

#klaus hargreeves x reader #klaus hargreeves imagine #klaus hargreeves smut #klaus hargreeves fanfic #my work #prize buck series

[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.}

.

“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

[agreateryesterday]

Reylo - ABO fics

An Unexpected Vacation

An Unexpected Date by tigbit

*Finished* 10 chapters, 4 chapters

In which Rey attempts to bolster her bank account by volunteering to fuck an Alpha in a scientific study. Plans go pear-shaped when she accidentally triggers scientist!Ben’s first Rut.

Rey and Ben go on their infamous date.

Terminal Velocity by AQuill2Thrill

(Last updated Feb 22, 2020) 6 chapters

In her final year at the University of Coruscant, Rey Kenobi navigates painful memories of her past while simultaneously fighting to get into the Coruscant Academy of Law. Broken in more ways than one, she finds herself dumbstruck when she receives a letter of dismissal from the Skywalker-Organa Scholarship Program - her one and only ticket into graduate school. Without the necessary funds, her future is completely dead in the water... right? Meanwhile, fast boi Ben Solo - better known as Kylo Ren on the MotoAmerica docket - is competing among world champion racers on dangerous tracks throughout the country. He's got all the wealth and fame he could ask for, so why does he still feel a pang of emptiness as he crosses each finish line like a man possessed?

True Love Waits by MalevolentReverie

*Finished* 18 chapters

In Rey's tiny Southern town, courtship for Omegas begins when a woman turns fifteen and ends with mating and marriage on the sixteenth birthday. All of her friends have already settled down, but Rey has a free spirit that isn't so easy to subjugate and control. Ben Solo intends to change that.

The Runner by JaneEyre1847

(Last updated Jan 16, 2020) 18chapters

Rey Niima has a one-in-a-billion secret. If found out, she'll become the target of religious fanatics and political reactionaries the world over. If they catch her, she'll lose everything, including her career, her freedom, perhaps even her mind. So, she pretends to be a normal, if highly unusual Omega, using her unique talents as an endurance athlete and automotive engineer to make a life for herself and craft a meaningful future. Ben Solo is finally, finally free of his past. Still young, still a highly dominant Alpha in an Alpha's world, he has enough money from selling his startup to start a new life in Boulder, Colorado, safe from his mistakes, safe from his family, and safe even from Snoke. All he wants now is to be happy and share his life with the right Omega. It's too bad Ben's past is coming for him. It's too bad his past is coming for Rey.

You Burn First by MalevolentReverie

*Finished* 22 chapters

Rey is kidnapped to be a slave for the ruthless Kylo Ren in exchange for the protection of her people. The post-apocalyptic world she lives in is brutal, but he might be worse

Not your omega. by riseofskyloren

*Finished* One Shot

Rey Johnson and Ben Solo cannot stand each others, she's way too joyful and he's just so cynical. They're definitely not mate material, not a chance. But what happened when the person you despise the most in the entire world becomes the one your body's craving?

Pretty Little Thing by MalevolentReverie

*Finished* 3 chapters

Rey is forcibly claimed by Kylo Ren. Though the pairing isn't complete, he pulls to her while he's in prison for his crime, and she struggles to ignore her instinct to go to him.

Kitty Cat by MalevolentReverie

*Finished* 2 chapters

Rey accepts a ride from a polite Alpha, Ben. He's a perfect gentleman. For now.

Premature by MalevolentReverie

*Finished* 5 chapters

Ben is Rey's awkward IT neighbor. She gives him a little bonus for helping fix her Wifi, and his obsession deepens, and he wants to prove he isn't some weirdo.

Bentacles by MalevolentReverie (creature fic *technically no ABO)

*Finished* One Shot

Kylo was kidnapped by humans and turned into a display piece at an aquarium. He meets a kind new girl, Rey, and decides she'll make the perfect mate.

Heat Wave by MalevolentReverie

*Finished* 2 chapters

Ben's next door neighbor Rey gets a little too hot. Her heat comes and he'll help her, even if she doesn't want him to.

Yellowstone by MalevolentReverie

*Finished* One Shot

Rey goes on a survival trip with her friends, but they get sick, and the friendly ranger doesn't have her best interests in mind.

Happy Birthday, Rey by MalevolentReverie

*Finished* One Shot

Every year, Rey receives a letter from a stranger. Every year, they get weirder.

Birthday Lick by MalevolentReverie

*Finished* One Shot

Rey decides to finally cut loose on her sixteenth birthday. She sneaks into a club and meets Ben Solo, who's charming, funny, and takes whatever he wants.

Fledgling by MalevolentReverie

*Finished* One Shot

Rey runs away from home and takes a break at a very dangerous rest stop.

derangeD by MalevolentReverie (child like Rey)

*Finished* One Shot

Next-door neighbor Ben is really nice. He used to babysit Rey and gave her a weird bite on the nape of her neck. If he needs help, she's happy to provide it.

Burnt Coffee by MalevolentReverie

*Finished* 3 chapters

Ben 'accidentally' forgets to pick up his sister's suppressants. He gets what he wants in her empty coffee shop.

Halcion Days by MalevolentReverie

*Finished* 3 chapters

Ben has never seen anything hotter than his unconscious stepsister.

Stay Still by MalevolentReverie (beta Rey)

*Finished* One Shot

Beta Rey babysits her Alpha neighbor Ben's nephew. One night he comes home drunk and aggressive and Rey can't escape.

WENDIGO by MalevolentReverie (creature fic *technically no ABO)

*Finished* 2 chapters

Rey is saved from a wolf attack by a mysterious stranger. He wants more than she’s willing to give, but he’s going to take it anyway.

Fine. Little. Pieces. by MalevolentReverie

*Finished* 3 chapters

Ben loves his mate and his pup very much—and they better love him back.

As Above, So Below by MalevolentReverie (creature fic *technically no ABO)

(Last updated May 9, 2020) 1 chapter

Rey goes on a spelunking trip in North Carolina with her friends. She quickly gets lost and is stalked by a strange, inhuman creature.

Reclaimed by betts

*Finished* One Shot

After the passing of new legislation, Rey and thousands of other omegas are rescued from the abusive grasps of their alphas. She gets adopted by a new alpha and braces herself for the cruelty she’s grown used to. But Ben isn’t like other alphas, and Rey slowly warms to his kindness.

He's Just Not That Into You(r) Scent by SaintHeretical

*Finished* 4 chapters

Rey is a young and single Omega who hasn't had a lot of luck so far finding a nice Beta guy who isn't a total flake. They say they've had a great time with her, but seem to have a difficult time with calling her back. Ben is an Alpha bartender who is tired of hearing about her dating difficulties, and is ready to drop some truth bombs.

A Myth of Devotion by KiraStar

(Last updated Jan 9, 2020) 1 chapter

Rey shouldn't have gone out drinking that night. Ben shouldn't have claimed a 16 year old girl.

all things bright and beautiful by freewalrus

*Finished* One Shot

Rey looks down at the little blue and white stick clutched in her sweaty palm and feels like her stomach is about to fall out of her ass. There, in the tiny gray window, are two seemingly harmless black lines. Two. She blinks rapidly, trying to clear whatever fog has obscured her vision and made her think she is currently holding a positive pregnancy test. She's not pregnant. She can't be pregnant. She just can't be. Because if she is, her mate will leave her. Ben will leave her.

Alpha by PrinceofDarkness15

(Last updated Jan 4, 2020) 2 chapters

"You're walking a very dangerous line here, Kenobi." Ben growled, exposing a row of razor sharp canines. "I wouldn't try it again."

The Claiming Party by SithLord98

(Last updated Feb 16, 2020) 12 chapters

No summary available.

A Wolf At the Door by KiraStar

(Last updated Dec 29, 2019) 4 chapters

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doin’ all alone on a Friday night?” Rey meets an older boy at the drive-in.

Let it Linger by CaptainCabinets

(Last updated May 26, 2020) 3 chapters

Ben Solo and Rey Jones have history. One that they were both hoping to forget. But their past becomes increasingly hard to ignore when Rey starts attending Ben's prestigious boarding school. - Or - Ben is an Alpha. Rey is an Omega. And they forget how to function like normal human beings when they are around each other.

My Heat Will Go On by SpaceWaffleHouseTM

*Finished* 14 chapters

Lucky Omega Rey wins a third class ticket to America on the Titanic. Rich, miserable Alpha Ben holds a first class ticket to a life he doesn’t want. Another tale as old as time unfolds, but this time with... heat.

(Can't Stand) The Heat

Stay Out Of My Kitchen! by SwanSongremix

*Finished* One Shots

She would feel terrible if she asked him to come home early. Wasting all of her alpha’s hard work. He had always been so accommodating of her hectic schedule as an emergency room nurse, it would be unfair to not reciprocate. Besides, she had gone through plenty of heats on her own before meeting Ben. What was one more? In which omega Rey doesn't call her mate, and Ben is a disaster child.

“Seriously, though, how am I supposed to hide this?” Ben asked, following his friend to the front door, waving his covered hands. “I don’t know! Get creative!” And with that, Poe made a hasty retreat outside. Ben stared at the closed door in disbelief. “Fuck my life.” In which Poe is not allowed in kitchens, and Ben is still a disaster child.

Imprints by KyloTrashForever

*Finished* 23 chapters

“I was happy you’ll be working with someone you know. He’ll take good care of you.” Take good care of you. The words send a shiver down her spine, sparking memories that flood her with embarrassment. She feels a strange itch just below her ear, her gland giving a phantom pulse as if her body remembers the incident even still. Suddenly her triumph fades into dread, the idea of working here leaving a hollow pit in her stomach. Poe is still talking, but she doesn’t hear most of it. Her mind is firmly trapped in the vivid memories of six years ago— in a moment she wishes she could forget. By the time she hangs up the phone— she isn’t sure anymore if she can do this.

First Order University by Water_Fox (KnightSiren)

(Last updated April 6, 2020) 3 chapters

A young beta named Rey Kenobi can't believe her luck when she gets miraculously admitted to First Order University, the largest and most prestigious university on Coruscant. She has big plans for her engineering degree and has no problem sticking up for herself in a pool of hormonal alphas. But, when she crosses paths with a strange Alpha named Kylo Ren and unexpectedly finds herself soaking wet and falling at his feet... those plans are threatened to be thrown out the window.

welcome to my cage, little lover by KyloTrashForever

*Finished* 8 chapters

“Come here, Beta.” Every step is difficult— as if her legs are made of stone themselves. He motions that she sit behind him, and she remains there on her knees for several seconds as she wonders what he might want. “Your hands. Use them.” In which Rey is brought to the house of the infamous warlord, Kylo Ren, to serve his every need. Omegas are not allowed. Surely nothing will go wrong.

And They Were Roommates by KyloTrashForever

*Finished* 13 chapters

“This isn’t going to work.” He points a finger between the two of them. “This arrangement.” Her eyes narrow. “You didn’t put any specifications on who could apply.” “Yeah…” He rubs the back of his neck then, the action making it look longer, making her wonder what it might feel like under her fingers. “You have to know that this isn’t a good idea.” She knows what he means, she does—but she’s so tired of being brushed aside for her designation that she challenges him anyway. “And why not?” His eyes bore into hers, his expression blank as he says, “Because I can tell how much scent-block you put on—and I can still smell you.” In which Rey’s new roommate turns out to be a lot more than she bargained for.

The mortifying ordeal of being known (and the reward of being loved) by vuas

(Last updated May 13, 2020) 9 chapters

The omega in apartment 7b was going to pose a problem.

Knot My First Time by KyloTrashForever

*Finished* 5 chapters

“Who can tell me the purpose of knotting?” Holy fuck, are you kidding. His face is going to catch on fire. The teacher still scans the room, looking for a victim of her mortifying question until her eyes finally settle somewhere behind Ben. “Ah, yes. Ms. Johnson?” “Originally, to ensure conception.” Ben sneaks a glance behind him, finding her every bit as distracting as he always does. Rey Johnson. The girl who moved here just three months ago. The girl who seems to excel at everything she does. The girl he can’t get off his mind. The girl he’s heard so much about. In which Ben’s Alpha instincts have always been there, and now they’re awake.

Don't talk to strangers by P_Dunton

(Last updated March 3, 2020) 9 chapters

“Don’t talk to strangers, don’t leave the path and walk straight to Grandmother’s house.” The village of Jakku has a dark and terrible secret. An unknown evil lurks in the nearby forest and will only be satisfied with an annual offering of a local virgin. Nobody knows where the mysterious messenger comes from every year. Once a year, a masked person appears out of the forest and selects the virgin to be offered to the forest. Poor little orphan Rey, is wrapped in the ceremonial red cloak and escorted by the whole village to the edge of town. In a hundred years, none have ever returned. Will Rey be eaten by the Big, Bad Wolf, or does she have a few tricks up her sleeve?

Let’s Get Together by KyloTrashForever, ohwise1ne

(Last updated Jan 15, 2020) 6 chapters

“You didn’t tell me,” he murmurs quietly, careful that someone won’t overhear. “That you were a counselor.” “Neither did you.” “I told you it was my job to keep disobedient boys and girls from causing trouble.” “Why, sir.” She directs a sly look at him through her lashes. “Do I look like the sort who would cause trouble?” “You look like you’d never stop. But don’t worry.” He lowers his mouth right beside her ear. “I'd know exactly how to make you behave.” When Ben is roped into a job at his mother’s alpha/omega summer camp, he expects to have an uneventful month full of bad knot jokes and teenage hormones — until a counselor from the Omega side of camp turns his whole summer upside down.

Foresight by Aerographer

(Last updated April 6, 2020) 3 chapters

This Hunt would not be Rey’s first. She was 21 now, and had been in them since her 18th year. She’d never had a reactive heat. Never been reduced to a whining shell because of a scrap of fabric. She was one of the lucky ones.

Garbage girl and the Prince: an A/B/O fairytale by Hosnianprime, Trueffle123

*Finished* 19 chapters

Rey is a nobody and an Omega, who is known as “the garbage girl” in the small town of Chandrilla because as an orphan she was caught eating discarded food. Ben Solo used to be “the Prince” of Chandrilla, the heir to the influential politician Organa and businessman Han Solo. So even if Rey and Ben grew up in the same town, their lives couldn’t be more different…After Ben Solo graduated, he decided to leave home and cut almost all ties with his parents. One day, however, Leia (fed up with her son wasting his life involving himself with dodgy businesses such as financial investments for the First Order Syndicate) comes up with a cunning plan: Ben Solo needs to return home for an arranged mating if he doesn’t want to risk disinhersion.

a little death (goes a long way) by crossingwinter

*Finished* 7 chapters

“That’s good of you,” he replies. “Especially with the O-Negative.” “It’s a good deal,” she says and he glances up. Yeah, because Omega blood is harder to find. A taste of life, because they almost never survive the turn.

Down South

Outrun Me by Spencebox

*Finished* One Shots

Omegas were on the brink of Extinction, and staying in Jakku was a a death sentence. But luckily for Rey... “Please Rey, Armitage and his family live down here and they’re perfectly normal. Do you remember Ben Solo? He lives down here too! His mom Leia kind of runs a few of the businesses here and is pretty cool. And Ben even turned out to be an Alpha; he’s totally not like the ones in Jakku. I talk about you sometimes and he seems to remember you. If you have the chance, stop by and we can catch up!” Rey saw no harm in driving down to the Deep South to Coruscant to stay with Rose for a couple of days. Besides, how bad could it be?

There was no going back now—not like this. Rey was running with nowhere to go and nowhere to hide; Unkar Plutt had sold her off ages ago and had kept her locked away since. But this full moon, she ran .

To Resist by Sweetnlow444

(Last updated April 26, 2020) 2 chapters

“I'm in a relationship, I'm in love, I'm happy.” He kept telling himself this, hoping it would help. It didn't. It did nothing. Couldn't do anything in the face of that fucking smell, that intoxicating, mouth-watering, life-altering smell. Rey. He knew who it came from now and it made it all worse.

Desert Concubine by IkonQueen

(Last updated March 1, 2020) 1 chapter

Emperor Kylo Ren has sent out a galaxy wide announcement that he will handsomely reward those who bring him artifacts from the First Empire; Rey, a scavenger from the desert planet of Jakku, finds something even more priceless, though she doesn't know it. When she is brought before the emperor, her life will change forever.

The Perfect Life by Sweetaro

(Last updated Feb 1, 2020) 1 chapter

All any alpha ever wants is to come home to an omega cooking dinner and ready to be knotted. In the case of Ben Solo, that’s exactly what he has, and he couldn’t be happier. Although from the beginning, he has to teach her. But that's fine, he's going to make sure she's the perfect omega too.

You Should See Me in a Crown by 3todream3

(Last updated April 5, 2020) 9 chapters

“I’m leaving,” she blurted out. “Leaving? What do you mean?” He rubbed his jaw with his hand, trying to wake up. “When will you be back?” “You’re not getting it, Finn. I’m leaving.” She inhaled the familiar scent of the stable, wishing what she was saying wasn’t true. “I’m leaving...for good.” Rey watched as her best friend’s shoulders drew back, straightening his spine as he did. A bitter reality was sinking in before the rooster had even crowed. Finn was her protector, her keeper, her friend. If she left him, she would be lost in the world. “You can’t...you need to stay here!” he blurted out as the words Rey spoke finally woke him up. “The princess has been betrothed, and I am to go with her to her new home.” A sob escaped from deep within. “I can’t let them find out about me!”~o~ Rey, a handmaiden to Princess Bazine, has a secret she must keep at all costs, but her life is put in danger when she must leave her only home. Rey must accompany the princess, who is set to marry the infamous King Ren. Can she keep her secret and also keep her loyalty to her princess? Or will an Alpha make it all go to hell?

Tied to you by I_am_the_trash_queen9478

(Last updated Feb 1, 2020) 11 chapters

For months, since he combed through her mind on Starkiller, they had felt a strange pull towards one another. Fighting it only made the bond stronger; in a moment of frustration, Rey and Kylo decide to give it what it wants and allow themselves to be pulled together. They only wanted to find out how to control it, now everything has changed and they don't know how much longer they can keep fighting this feeling, this heat, between them. What could possibly go wrong when the Alpha Ben Solo and newly changed Omega Rey are tied together, in more ways than one?

Bloodmoon by AlexandrinaRen

(Last updated Feb 28, 2020) 4 chapters

Rey has always tried to stay as far away from pack business as possible, living her life as normally as humanly possible for an Omega and a Werewolf. But when a new Alpha comes in to town and challenges the leader of her pack, even she has to attend the Summit where the Alpha rite is about to be held.

That Fragile Scarlet Tree by Lula_Landry

*Finished* 11 chapters

Rey is asked by her boss Ben Solo to join his inner circle at First Order International, putting her brilliant mind to good use. The biggest problem? Rey is an Omega in hiding, living in a world where her kind have become nearly extinct, while Ben is an Alpha amongst Alphas, triggering her biological responses in ways she's never had to deal with before.

I'll Kill The Traitor, But I Will Save My Omega. by ClaireLou

*Finished* 7 chapters

Poe arrives at Bens house to inform him that his boyfriend is missing, not only that but he has taken the Omega. Unfortunately for Finn, The Omega is Bens wife, his soulmate and his forever. Ben will kill Finn himself. But first he needs to get the pack together and get back his Mate.

Say Yes to the Nest by writing2savelives

*Finished* One Shot

“Rey―?” She cuts him off with a whimper, stepping closer. “Please.” “No,” he growls. “You have to use your words. You have to say yes. Say ‘Yes, I want you’. Say it. Please.” Her pupils are dilating again rapidly. She sinks to her knees in front of him, the ultimate display of submission and his Alpha preens. “Yes Ben. I want you. Please Alpha.” Rey's heat is triggered after she must stay at Ben's apartment, prompting her to build a nest of his clothes. This is how Ben finds her.

A Rose For My Love by Spencebox

(Last updated May 12, 2020) 1 chapter

Poor Omega Rey and Rich Alpha Ben are newly dating and though Rey wants to take things slow, Ben has every intention of locking it down. There is a hesitancy in her- he's a decade older, has more money than she could count, is an Alpha that truly emits every stereotype she's ever know, and is ready for everything from mating to having babies. She wants to take things slow but he's in the fast lane. What's an Omega to do?

Keep the Car Running by CaptainCabinets

*Finished* 7 chapters

Someone new joins the carpool. Rey is not happy about it. (Until she is).

Your Sweetness by EyesSoQuiet

(Last updated April 23, 2020) 2 chapters

Kylo is in the middle of a rut when he finds his omega.

Ms. Independent by Athelise

*Finished* One Shot

Rey goes back into heat and begins to miss the one Alpha she trusted to see her through them. If only he hadn't called her a "charity case" she might actually be tempted to ask.

The Courtship of a Southern Belle by Lapinrose

(Last updated May 20, 2020) 7 chapters

In 1860 New Orleans, Louisiana, Rey Josephine Camille is a young girl about to enter womanhood. Her year-long secret courtship with popular alpha Poe Dameron has not been fruitful: he has not proposed nor has he asked to be her escort at the debutante ball! Before she turns 16, she must get engaged or become an outcast in New Orleans high-society but she does not want to marry someone she does not love. That's when she meets aloof alpha and eligible bachelor Benjamin Solo Augustus.

In Plain Sight by LBellicose

*Finished* 23 chapters

Rey never thought she would ever be lucky enough to go to college, much less win a scholarship to the prestigious University of Naboo. Rey meets Rose, before long she is part of the Resistance, a group of liked mind individuals working to solve the mystery of missing Omegas. Everything points to the First Order health. Rey goes undercover suppressed and poising as a Beta to find out what they are doing with the Omegas. She thinks she has it all under control until she meets the First Order's head of security Kylo Ren who has taken an interest in the newest lab tech.

Winter Flower by MelancholyBrilliance

(Last updated April 17, 2020) 2 chapters

"That’s my number,” he informs her, pinning her with his gaze. “Do not leave this hospital until you call me, Omega.” The command comes from somewhere deep inside of him, a place that usually lies doormat despite barking orders to medical personnel every day. It has an immediate effect on Rey, whose pupils visibly widen as she stares at him, enraptured. She nods, and it’s clear that she’s not entirely in control of herself, and maybe Ben should feel guilty about how satisfying it all is, but he releases a pleased rumble from his chest instead. When Rey’s scent spikes in response, he practically runs out of the room, trembling all over. (ABO/Modern AU in which Rey is essentially a homeless youth, and Ben is a doctor who just wishes he didn’t have to feel so guilty about helping her.)

Vertigo Theory by GlassSolomon

(Last updated March 20, 2020) 2 chapters

Rey has just begun the semester as a Biology student and already she is stretched thin. Being faced with the setbacks that come with being an Omega on top of everything else that comes with attending school she must take on an enormous course load and a job on the side to stay afloat through school. It's most certainly not sustainable. Professor Solo, her Anatomy professor soon takes notice of the young Omega in his course and despite strict Faculty Student Relations rules at the University he cannot take his eyes off of her.

Desolate by lhlsy

(Last updated May 12, 2020) 13 chapters

“I don’t care what her reason for sending you over here is,” he huffs out an annoyed breath, “I’m not interested.” At that her stance changes, she straightens up, almost puffing her chest out, her eyes regard him with a sort of intensity he has never seen an Omega exude before, “Mr. Solo, I’m a police officer,” she starts, her tone now laced with annoyance, and even a hint of anger, “I merely came over to introduce myself since I’m tasked with your security.” He smirks, a small snicker escaping his lips. He can’t help it. He really can’t. It’s just so extremely laughable that the young woman in front him is supposed to be his security. Not that she’s really there to protect him, like she seems to think. The police are only there to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid, like try to take off his ankle bracelet and skip town.

Pheromatch by pinkhairedhoe

*Finished* 3 chapters

Ben doesn't like to think of himself as a desperate man, but with little free time, a secret desire for a relationship, and pressure from his well-meaning mother to settle down, he turns to Pheromatch, a dating service for alphas and omegas. Rey Niima, an omega grad student who keeps crushing on betas, thinks using a dating service is a cop out. She sincerely doesn't think she'll find anyone. Except one of the alphas kind of smells incredible.

Howl Of The Pack by LadyErica

(Last updated April 14, 2020) 19 chapters

 Rey doesn't do howling and giving in to her wolf. Until she is called to the ritual of pack master. She is one of many Omegas in the pack that is unmated. The pack master is getting old and it is time for a new pack master. Rey watches the challenge in her pack and doesn't like appreciating in old brutal rituals of her pack. Thus why she doesn't give in to her wolf. A wolf she hadn't turn into in a long time since she presented as a Omega. Then the new pack master chooses a mate. That mate is her.

Baby Steps by Athelise

*Finished* One Shot

Rey is an Omega who has never been in heat and fears Alphas and their knots. But with her admission to Naboo University Rey gets a new lease on life with their Omega-inclusive policies and some of the best suppressors in the country to hide her from the eyes of Alphas. Not only that, but her burgeoning friendship with the adorkable Beta, Ben Solo, may just be the best thing to ever happen to her.

love the way you wear that black on black (take it off like that) by galactic_enterprise

(Last updated May 8, 2020) 1 chapter

“You're mine, Alpha. No one else can ever have you.” She placed his belongings at the head of her den, making Ben swell with pride. “Of course, Omega, and you are mine. Such a good little thing. So hard-working and slick, so ready and beautiful for her Alpha. Do you want me, little one? Do you want me to fill you with my knot and coat you with my cum? To put my pups in that little belly of yours?”- or - Kylo Ren wakes up to Rey trying to nest using his things.

Rey's Anatomy by lovelyjades

(Last updated April 11, 2020) 1 chapter

Freshly graduated Rey Kenobi was thrilled to have been accepted into an internship at the esteemed Skywalker-Organa Hospital in Seattle, and everything was going perfectly fine until she met her neurosurgeon supervisor, Doctor Ben Solo, an arrogant alpha who just so happened to be the best smelling man she'd ever met.

But I Do by Spencebox

(Last updated May 19, 2020) 7 chapters

Rey Kenobi couldn't believe it; she was definitely, totally, and without a doubt, shocked. Ben Solo- Alpha, looked like he belonged on the front of a magazine, not pictured as the profile for the Alpha she'd been matched with. Ben Solo was totally, definitely, and without a doubt, out of her league. But that doesn’t mean his name didn’t leave her lips when she fingered herself that night.

Knot Sure by coldmoonviolet

*Finished* 16 chapters

Omega Rey is excited to be finishing up her degree but after a night out with friends ends in the most embarrassing one night stand Rey could have imagined, she's horrified to discover the Alpha in question is her Professor.

Wanderlust by inexorablydrawn

(Last updated May 5, 2020) 8 chapters

Rey had spent her whole life pretending to be something she wasn't. She had hoped to live a perfectly average life without influence by her designation. But when fate calls to her, pulling her out of her city comforts, she finds out that accepting who she is might be far easier than being alone when Ben Solo finds her wandering aimlessly in the expanses of nature.

graceless hearts by darthdarcyy

(Last updated May 5, 2020) 10 chapters 

Rey Niima, independent Omega and millennial college graduate trying not to starve during a recession, takes a desperate job at a tech support call center. One slow Saturday evening, she watches as a tall, beautiful Alpha moves into the luxury loft apartment building next door. To the apartment directly across from her window. The rest, as they say, is history. you smell like every good memory i've ever had. (previously certain things happen in the dark)

Baggage

in the back with the racks and the stacks of your load by praetorreyna

(Last updated May 29, 2020) (Last updated Feb 10, 2020) 11, 2 chapters

Rey is a senior in college, and ready to graduate the top of her class. Enter Ben Solo, her new literature professor who happens to be an alpha. An alpha that also happens to smell irresistible. Her mind is telling her to keep pushing forward, but her hormones are saying the complete opposite. She just needs to make it through the year with out consequence. That shouldn't be too hard, right?

vignettes for Baggage

the threat is real

when his sight goes red again by 11minutes (redlondons)

*Finished* (last updated May 8, 2020) 7 chapters, 1 chapter

Kylo Ren is sick of going through his ruts alone. Rey is sick of going through her heats alone. A dystopian soulmates au with a happy ending.

Our Royal family is trying to get back into the swing of being together. Padme is being the grandmother she was always supposed to be to Ben. Rey has a secret that will cause havoc in the kingdom. And what happens when the Legacy Saber is stolen and Ben shows the depths of his dark side powers? Alderaan is in a state of revolt, Rey and Ben have a lot of work to do!

Lost & Sold by MalevolentReverie

(Last updated May 18, 2020) 11 chapters

Rey is ten days from her work visa expiring. Her boss, Leia, happens to have a single son who’s more than happy to help.

On The Brightside by Spencebox

*Finished* 3 chapters

On the bright side, he had a nice house.

The Ecumene by P_Dunton

(Last updated May 26, 2020) 35 chapters

The Ecumene (or oecumene): the permanently inhabited portion of the Earth as distinguished from the uninhabited or temporarily inhabited area. In the world where Alphas are meant to rule, Kylo Ren is aiming to wipe the Omegas off the face of the Earth. In the world where Omegas are meant to serve, Rey Johnson has suddenly discovered her true designation.

Good little omega by kylosbrickhousebody

*Finished* One Shot

Only a month ago, Rey found herself trapped in her worst nightmare: presenting as an omega and bonding with a strange, older alpha. Trapped under his care by law, Rey finds herself running from the alpha at every turn. Ben tries to convince her otherwise.

Post: Part 2

#Reylo #rey #rey skywalker #rey palpatine #kylo #ren #kylo ren #ben #solo #ben solo #skywalker #star wars #star #wars #fan fic #fan fiction #fanfiction #fanfic #alpha!kylo #alpha!kylo ren #alpha!ben #alpha!ben solo #omega!rey #omega!rey skywalker #abo #aob #alpha/beta/omega

[ulkoillafish]

140 L project tank improvement Step 3: purchase more lightning power (a.k.a ulkoilla flirts with algae infestation)

The project tank is/was really dark. The pics don’t show it properly, but that’s only because my smart phone is smart and when I tell it where to focus, it also figures out a good-looking light balance. In general, I’m a big fan of this function but it’s not great for showing the difference in light.

I switched that function off (and made a complete mess of the camera settings in the process), but this is more or less the tank before (1 fluorescent tube) and after (2 fluorescent tubes). It’s not a perfect pic, still too much brightness in it in comparison with the reality, imho, but it’s as close as I could get.

Yes – they are fluorescent tubes. It’s year 2021 and actually ordered a new T8 fluorescent tube lamp. I considered LED lights for a long time, but...

...I couldn’t find any that were even remotely reasonably priced AND had some information about spectrum and such AND were of good size. The tank is only ~95 cm (~37 inches) wide so I didn’t think it would’ve been an issue, but it turned out to be.

I did consider things like efficiency and electricity consumption, but... meh. I can by ease think up many situations where those are of interest, but mine wasn’t one on those. My apartment has to be heated most of the year, and my tank is being heated inside my heated apartment. So, how much do I really care if some of the heating is done by the heat generated by the lamp? Not much, I tellz ya, not much.

So, fluorescent tubes it was.

The tubes I use are Hagen’s. I haven’t tested many producers so this isn’t a recommendation, but there is two things I like in Hagen tubes: I can purchase them locally with ease (although this may change in near future and ofc may not be true for You), and Hagen gives out the information about the spectrum, kelvins and such.

As we know, not all light is equally good at for plants. The “good” peaks are in red and blue light area, so that’s what I want to see emphasized in my aquarium light. And I don’t want to guess wtf my lamp is giving out, as it seemed to be with the reasonably priced LEDs.

Blue and red, but low kelvins? Great, there is Flora-Glo T8 (it’s the tube lit in my “1 fluorescent tube” pic). More blue spectrum with some yellow light added in and high kelvins? Power-Glo T8 (the second tube, combined with the Flora-Glo at the lower pic). A full-spectrum with high emphasis on green and yellow? There’s tubes for that. And they are easy to mix and match.

If my mix and match (Flora-Glo and Power Glo) is at all a smart, that’s another question... It isn’t one suggested by the manufacturer so we shall see how terrible algae infestation I’m going to get. I thought my match would be a good match because of reasonably good red and blue presence with the total emphasis on blue, and Flora-Glo has an additional small yellow with a high-ish green peak, while Power-Glo has additional yellow with a small green peak.

So, in in my mind this summed up to a reasonable viewing light (enough different wave lengths for viewing, cool enough not to have a tint of piss and enough medium wave lengths to avoid the pot farm purple), while the blue and red could feed my plants.

Buuuut then I found a file in which Hagen recommend which tubes go well together. And I’m sure Hagen knows more of mixing their own lamps than I do, so... It is... It will be...

Algae infestation!

Not signs of that yet, but at the time of posting I’ve had the lamp less than one week and I’m taking it slow with the 2 tubes, in hopes I can avoid the said infestation.

Tbh, the Project Tank looks worse than at the beginning. My plant separator is functioning nicely in the sense it’s containing the frogbit, but the roots are still all over the place. The plastic boxes are for cory babies, and now have their own cardboard parasols, so they don’t get too much light... I even switched the plants, tiger lily and hairgrass, from the back glass to the front glass to maximize the amount of eyesores because the Power-Glo is on such a short time in a day for now and I’d like it if these two made it, so they are here to enjoy the Flora-Glo light.

#fishblr #planted tank #aquarium #aquarium light #any day now #140L project #this is going to be a mess #i'm waiting for algae infestation

[virtualcheesecakepanda862-blog1]

How To Care For Bettas: Betta Fish - A Beginner's Guide

Contrary to many popular misconceptions, they actually require a lot of special care. Even if it's difficult to know exactly what to do with them to help them live a long and happy life, it is still a lot easier to learn how to care for betta fish than many other types of fish. If you want to take your betta care to the next level in terms of how well they perform in your aquarium, this is definitely the place to start.

When it comes to betta fish care, this shouldn't scare you too much. With this extensive and detailed oriented article, you'll be able to handle all the toughest maintenance tasks when it comes to caring for your fish.

The first step is to build a new, separate and spacious fish tank that is 3 gallons or more. Do keep in mind that it needs to be larger than the size of your aquarium for it to give them enough room to swim around. Place them in a social area of your house that isn’t too far away from a sink so you can clean their tank easily. 

The second thing you need to do is to install a low-flow filter to help remove any waste from the tank and avoid any ammonia spikes. As far as this is concerned, you can choose from many different filters. You may need to test the flowof the filter to make sure it doesn’t create too strong of a current as bettas hate fast flow filters and can’t swim efficiently in strong currents. 

Once you have completed installing the filters, fill up your new tank with clean, fresh and dechlorinated water. Make sure that there are no other fish in the tank because other fish may stress them out. The only time you should put them in a community tank is if your betta has the personality that gets along with other fish or if you plan to mate your betta and this should only be done with special care.

It's time to learn how to care for betta fish by providing them with different kinds of premium food and safe toys. It would be a good idea to stock them with live foods like brine shrimp and daphnia and to give them pellets, too. This ensures that their nutrition levels remain constant and that they are always receiving good nutrition so they can stay active.

For instance, feeding your betta fish a small number of flakes and pellets is good if you supplement with other live foods. Just don’t overfeed and give them only enough food they can eat in 1-2 minutes. 

Remember, Betta fish are sensitive to small changes in their environment. so it would be a good idea to keep their aquariums at a constant temperature and pH level so they won’t be stressed out.

Once you have made your fish tank complete, you need to add the food and toys that you intend to give them. Once you've done this, it's a good idea to check on them every now and then and make sure that they are still healthy.

Keeping them in good and healthy conditions will ensure that they stay healthy throughout their lives. However, if you find that they are sick and you don’t know what to do, you should see advice or consult aquarian veterinarian.

If you are still in doubt as to whether or not you have to do this maintenance task, you may want to consult a friend or a vet. who has had successfully kept fish for many years?

While doing this maintenance task, you will also need to make sure that the tanks you have installed are cleaned once in a while. A good quality cleaner can help you get rid of bacteria and parasites, both of which could cause serious infections and disease. Also, make sure that you do not use harsh chemicals such as chlorine or ammonia.

Lastly, keep the water clean. You should check out the filter often to see if there are any particles floating around. Sometimes these particles can become embedded in the filter and can hinder its functioning.

This will definitely affect the functioning of the water supply and that too with grave consequences. If you find that your fish is starting to become sickly, make sure that you clean out the tank and filter.

You can easily carry out these maintenance tasks yourself. but it would be best to hire a professional to take care of them for you.

So, if you are still new to the world of caring for betta fish, this article will help you get the right direction about the right way of doing things. By taking your time and following the tips above, your betta fish can remain happy and healthy for many years.

[kademaki]

The Bottomless Blue - Chapter Eight

It’s time to break Hux out, hopefully everything goes according to plan

previous

You woke up the next morning with the plan fresh in your mind. You sat up in your bed and looked over at your nightstand and realized your alarm clock hadn’t gone off. You were going to be late for work. You hurriedly packed your bag for work and got in your car as you started your commute to the aquarium. As you turned through the crowded streets filled with more traffic than usual since you had woken up later than usual.  

You considered your plan in your head and decided that since you were already late, you might as well make a quick stop. You parked in front of a small boutique and hurried out twenty-three minutes later back to your car with a stark white box. You emptied the contents of the box into your bag and started back towards the aquarium. You sat in the parking lot for a minute to calm your nerves for what you were planning. You had to get Hux to cooperate as quickly as possible once you started or things could turn sour quickly.  

↭↭↭↭↭↭↭↭↭↭↭↭↭↭↭↭↭↭↭↭↭↭↭↭↭↭↭↭↭↭↭↭↭

Everyone was staring at you. They knew you were planning to break Hux out. That’s why they were all watching your every nervous move. Then again, you were giving a tour to bored middle schoolers. That was more likely the reason they were staring at you. The tanks of smaller fish could only hold the attention of children their age for so long before they got bored. You turned your back to the group and took an attempt at a calming breath as you led them deeper into the aquarium where the tanks of larger fish were. The feeling of eyes on you usually didn’t bother after years of giving tours but today it unnerved you more than it ever had in the past.  

Luckily, this tour was wrapping up in a few minutes since the school had only requested the tour be split in two so that the students could explore the larger fish on their own before taking a break for lunch then finishing the tour with another guide. That would give you some free time before your lunch break, making it the perfect time to perfect the final details to break Hux out. You had thought about the details all morning and you were sure you had the details ironed out as best you could but you could never be too sure. You showed the students and chaperones the last hallway of rooms before bidding a good day and heading to your desk. As you waited for the elevator that would you upstairs to the offices, a familiar voice called out to you. You turned to see Luke coming towards you.

“Y/N, it’s been a while,” he said as he stepped next to you waiting for the elevator. “I meant to ask before, how has your arm been since you got bit?” he gestured to your arm that was thankfully covered in long sleeves so he could not see the marks or lack thereof. The marks had all but disappeared rather strangely one day and while you were grateful that you didn't have lasting scars from the shark attack,  it perturbed you that they disappeared suddenly.  

“Oh, it's healing well. My arm doesn’t hurt thankfully,” you said trying to give as little detail as possible.  

“I’m glad to hear it. Have you been diving since?” Luke asked turning to face you. 

“Only a few times,” you said trying to pretend you were more shaken the attack than you actually were. “I’m still a little paranoid you know? Who knows what’s down there?” you said giving him a nervous smile.

“What’s down there? Y/N, look at where we are, you know like the rest of us what could be down there. Speaking of which… have you seen the newest...specimen we found a few weeks ago? I know they’ve asked you to help clean up around the specimen’s tank after hours but I think the specimen has been sedated then because the higher-ups are working on the security cameras on that side so you might have missed him.” You shook your head.   

“No, I haven’t seen him yet.”You didn’t know Hux was being sedated after hours, he never seemed sedated when you visited him and he never mentioned it. “Why is he sedated because of the security camera maintenance?”

“Oh well, some of the directors think it’s best if we sedate him so he can’t be kidnapped or stolen from us since the cameras aren’t fully functional during the night time maintenance. The directors also don’t trust the security guards to sit and monitor the tanks themselves all night. Hell, the security team is in shambles right now and the cameras aren’t even working right now. But anyway if we use sedation, the new specimen is just dead weight in case someone tries to steal him from us. It’d be harder to carry him out if he’s sedated and he can’t just walk out can he?” The elevator dinged and you both stepped on and headed to the upper levels. You gave a weak laugh, not sure of what to make of what Luke was telling you.  

“But all this talk of him and you’ve never even seen him. How about after-hours tonight, you come down the lab and I’ll give you a personal introduction.” Luke mistook the sudden jerk of your head for excitement. “I knew you wanted to see him! It’s a date then, I’ll come find you a little after closing and you can see our newest specimen for yourself up close and personal. You’ll probably be the only one outside of the lab who’s seen him.” He took a glance at his watch, “Oh, I’ve got to run, the entire lab is taking the day off to celebrate one of the lab tech’s birthdays and I’m going to miss the van to the restaurant. I’ll see you tonight Y/N!”  

You watched as Luke rushed out the elevator down the hall. You wanted to know more about what he said about the scientists keeping Hux sedated but you didn’t have time to worry about that now, you were on a mission. You got to your desk and looked around before pulling out your bag. To anyone else, it would look like you were just going to a meeting or your lunch break. Now that you knew the scientists wouldn’t be here running tests, that took much more pressure off of you and your plan.  

You made your way back down to Hux’s tank without being stopped or spotting any security guards. Once you were in the room where Hux’s tank was, you let out a sigh of relief. He wasn’t sedated and was floating near the top of the tank. He gave you a once over look as you neared.  

“What’s in your bag today? Not more books I hope.” He said as you approached, swimming over closer to the edge of the tank. You shook your head and dropped the bag down in front of the tank. You glanced up at the corner at the disabled security camera and saw the red recording light was off just like Luke had said.

“Not quite. Today’s the day we get you out of here. Come on, I have a plan.” Hux eyed you but made no protests as dug around in the bag. “So I heard that they’re moving you to another facility thirty-six hours. That means it is now or never, we have to get you out now.” You watched as Hux seemed to pale. “Unless you want to get carted off to some secret lab where I’ll probably never see you again.”

“So how exactly do you plan to get me out of here?” Hux inquired. You reached down into the bag and pulled out a box and showed Hux the contents. His eyebrow rose, “What do you think we are going to do with those?”  

“Kylo Ren says these let you turn into a human for a while. That’s my plan.” You reached into the bag and pulled out the white box from the boutique. You opened the box and showed Hux the clothes you had purchased that morning on your way into work. “You’re going to put these on and I’m going to get you out somehow.”   

Let me start by asking when you spoke to Kylo Ren. You never mentioned you knew what these particular items were for before and I certainly never revealed their purpose. That leads me to believe that recently, somehow, you have been in contact with him and I would like to know how and when?”

“Last night,” Hux’s eyes narrowed as you continued, “I had a dream and he was in it. It was like he was speaking to me in person. I was on the beach and he was just there too.” Hux’s brows furrowed, “He told me that the bracelet allowed you to be human for a few hours and that combined with the ring would make it longer than a few hours. He also said you should have been out by now unless you wanted to be here.” Hux’s face was unreadable when you said the last part but you continued anyway. “So after I woke up, this is what I came up with. You put these clothes on and we’ll figure out a way out.” Hux seemed to be considering your plan before speaking again. 

“Since we are so short on time, it seems like your plan is the only option I have right now. When do you propose we leave?”  

“So that’s the problem. The lab guys are out celebrating someone's birthday for lunch and that could take a few hours, so hopefully, that gives us enough time to get you out of here.”  

“So how do you plan to sneak me past security?” Hux inquired while looking over the clothes.  

“I don’t know exactly what I’m going to do but I figure I can walk you out with a tour. You’ll look like a parent and chaperone for one of the schools until you get outside and then you can just slip away.”  

“You won’t be coming with me?” Hux asked looking up from the clothes.

“No, it’ll be too suspicious. You’ll have to go alone.” You pulled a towel out of your bag and gestured to Hux who eyed the towel wearily. 

“So you want me to walk out of here alone? With no help, when I don’t even know where I am?” you paused.  

“Haven’t used the bracelet before? Haven’t you been human before? You’ve never been in the city?” Now it was Hux’s turn to shrug.

“I haven’t been in this part of the city in a very long time. I do not even have currency to get back to the ocean.” Hux said as he pulled himself up to prop himself on the edge of the tank and gestured to the bracelet and ring.

“So what do you suggest we do?” You said handing him the jewelry and the towel.

“Is there any way you can take me back to the ocean now?”  

“No, there’s not enough time to get there and back without it being too suspicious. Who knows when the lab guys will get back and when they’ll figure out you’re gone and if all of the staff aren’t accounted for, it’ll draw too much attention to me and-” A noise from down the hall interrupted you. You turned back to see Hux holding the jewelry and the towel with his attention on the noise as well. “I’m going to go see what that noise was and you…” you trailed off unsure of how to say ‘turn into a human and so I break you out of here’, “get dressed.”

You headed out into the hall to see the lights off all down the hall. You took a breath and went down to investigate. You were already stressed and tense about this surprise deadline to get Hux out but even more stressed that you could get caught right now. Who knew what your employers would do if they knew you were trying to sneak out their newest exhibit and their largest investment. As you got to the end of the hall, you found the source of the noise. A security guard had run into the carts and equipment left out by the scientist and lab techs as they anticipated moving Hux to a more secure location. You flinched as he shone a flashlight in your face.  

“What are you doing back here? This area is off-limits” He said as he moved the flashlight’s beam around you. You gestured to your name card and ID badge.

“I work here. I heard the noise and saw the lights were out so I came to see what was going on. I’m-” you froze as you struggled to figure out what to say the guard. You couldn’t exactly say that you were stealing their best investment, so you said the first thing that came into your mind that you hadn’t planned to say out loud just yet. “I was giving a private tour to one of the investors when the lights went out.” you cringed as the words came out of your mouth but it was the only thing you could think of. The security guard gave you a look but seemed to buy your story. 

“Well, I don’t have any of the investors listed as a guest today so he shouldn’t back here. Take me to him and I will escort him out, its aquarium policy to prevent any accidents that the guests be escorted out by security.” you nodded and headed back down the hall towards Hux’s tank. You were trying to play it cool but on the inside, you were having a full-on panic attack. What if Hux wasn’t ready and the two of you were caught? You hoped he was either in the tank or hidden somewhere in the room. But how would you explain the ‘investors’ disappearance to the guard? Maybe you could he took a back exit or found some way out.

Once you made it into the room, the guard walked past you into the room first before stopping just in the doorway. You wondered why he had stopped and looked past him into the room to see Hux, without his tail but instead with legs, buttoning the crisp white shirt you had brought him to wear. The guard turned and gave you a look and you groaned internally. You knew what the guard was thinking and this was not a good look. You gave him a wide-eyed stare as if to say ‘it’s not what it looks like’ but the guard just scoffed and spoke into the room to Hux.

“Hello sir, I understand you were on a… private tour with Miss L/N here. But since we’re having issues with power to this side of the aquarium, I’m here to escort you out for liability reasons. So once you’re done...getting dressed, I’ll be waiting out here.” The guard said turning on his heel, giving you a knowing look and waiting outside the now closed door.  

You closed your eyes, took a breath and let out a groan. You hoped this would not make its way as gossip around the aquarium. Then you remembered that Hux didn’t have a tail right now. You opened your eyes and found Hux staring at you. He had pulled on the black suit jacket you had bought him and was stepping into the shoes as well. Now that you were getting to see him in human form, you realized he was tall. His fiery red hair looked brighter, neater and more tamed than it had when he was in the tank. Hux was attractive as a human, well he was attractive as a merman but the pointed teeth could be intimidating at times. Your thoughts were interrupted by Hux clearing his throat.  

“Was the guard part of the plan?” You gave him an exasperated look noticing the bracelet and ring shining brightly on his wrist and finger.  

“Of course not, I told him you were an investor and this was a private tour but now he thinks you’re an investor that I’m sleeping with, in the aquarium.” You glared at Hux when he chuckled. “It’s not funny, this could affect my job here!” Hux didn’t respond but gestured to the door where the guard was waiting.  

“Let’s just get out of here first.” He said, opening the door and stepping into the hall. “Lead the way.” You watched in shock as Hux walked down the corridor in front of you as if this situation was normal. As your trio made your way down the hall, a thought crossed your mind. 

“Can we actually take the back entrance? It’s a bit more private for our V.I.P. here and away from prying eyes.” The security guard gave you a pitying look before nodding and changing course to the secluded rear entrance where the employees parked. 

‘Take a deep breath Y/N, you can do this. You know this place inside and out. You can do sneak past security. No one will notice if you time it just right.’ you thought to yourself as you took deep breaths while neared one of the security desks, where the guards who were responsible for checking on Hux throughout the day and night. If one of the guards recognized him, you would both be in for it. Hux must have sensed your tension because he gave what you guessed was supposed to be a reassuring look. To your relief, you passed the security desk without any of them so much as even looking up at the three of you.

Soon you were both staring out into the sunny parking lot with the guard wishing you a good afternoon as he returned to his post. You let out a sigh of relief. Now all you had to figure out what to do with Hux now that he was out of the aquarium. 

“Where is your car? Let’s go.” Hux said before heading to the parking lot. “The sooner we’re out of here the better. I haven’t felt the sun on my skin in weeks.” you rushed behind him pointing out your car as he rounded around it to the passenger side door before getting in. 

As you both sat in your car, the silence started to get tense again as you pondered where to take Hux. You didn't have time to drive him to the beach and back. Your other options were limited. You were wracking your brain when Hux spoke again.

“Do you have a place here in the city? You aren’t always at the beach.” You thought about your apartment in the city. It wasn’t large by any means but you could stash Hux there for a few hours while you finished your shift at the aquarium before driving him to the beach tonight.  

“You want to go to my apartment? You’d be there alone until I get back later tonight.” Hux nodded and you started your car and started driving to your apartment.  

Nineteen minutes later, you pulled up outside of your building and was rushing Hux inside. You didn’t want your neighbors to see you with a strange man when you were supposed to be at work. Once in your apartment, seeing Hux was surreal. He looked out of place now sitting on your couch in your living room.  

“So, this is the living room, through there is my bedroom, that door leads to the bathroom and over there is the kitchen. Help yourself to anything in the fridge while I’m gone. When I get back from work, we’ll go from there.” Hux acknowledged you with a nod while glancing around your apartment. “Please don’t get in trouble while I’m gone.” With that, you gave Hux one last look as you returned to your car and started your drive back to work.  

As you pulled into the parking lot, a new problem was on your mind. You had known the aquarium would be thrown into chaos when you broke Hux out, but now what were you going to do about Luke. You had promised to meet him in the lab tonight but now what would you do that the lab would be in chaos by the time you got back or shortly after when the discovered Hux was gone. Luke was sure to be the worst off since his team was the ones who discovered Hux in the first place. You sighed as you pulled into an empty parking space. Everything seemed calm for now but how long would it last?  

next

Tag List: 

@songforhema

@agirlinherhead

#Armitage Hux #Armitage Hux fanfiction #hux #general hux #hux x reader #armitage hux x reader #general hux x reader #mermaids #mermaid au #mermaid #merman!hux #hux is a mermaid #star wars #star wars: the last jedi #Star wars: the force awakens #star wars fanfiction #star wars au #the bottomless blue

[csnews]

6 recent deaths push rare whales closer to extinction

Tom Cheney - July 11, 2019

Her skin is smooth and matte black, and it feels like spongy rubber when I press my finger into it. In the deep bow of her mouth, long plates of baleen are so straight and even that they seem unnatural. Named by researchers for the scars on her head that evoke dashes and commas, Punctuation measures 50 feet long and weighs ten times more than a grown elephant. Her sheer scale defies the possibilities of natural creation.

Alive, North Atlantic right whales are social, playful animals. With their gaping mouths, rotund bodies, and stout pectoral fins, they’re charming—in an otherworldly, prehistoric sort of way. Still impressive in stature, Punctuation is nonetheless a shadow of her former self. Her body, spotted floating in the ocean on June 20, has been towed ashore for scientific necropsy in Chéticamp, Nova Scotia.

North Atlantic right whales were saved by a ban on commercial whaling in 1937, after nearly being hunted to extinction in the early 1900s. But while their population stabilized, it never recovered. Mortalities numbered a few each year, predominantly from ship strikes and entanglement in fishing gear. In the early 2000s, there were an estimated 500 North Atlantic right whales left. But since 2010, the population has been declining at an alarming rate, and scientists believe there are currently about 400 living North Atlantic right whales.

Things took a sharp turn in 2017, when 17 right whales were found dead along the Eastern seaboard—12 in Canadian waters and five in U.S. waters. That was nearly twice as many as were recorded in the previous five years. Researchers and regulators scrambled to figure out what was going on.

In earlier years, the whales typically only traveled as far north as the Bay of Fundy, just past the U.S.-Canada border, where the shipping lanes had been adjusted to help protect them. But as the distribution of copepods, the zooplankton that are the whales’ main food source, shifted north, so too did the whales.

In the Gulf of St. Lawrence, the fishing and shipping industries were unprepared to deal with their presence.

Wolverine

In 2018, the Canadian government instituted a new regime of fishing zone closures, shipping lane changes, and vessel speed restrictions. Only three whales died—and none in Canada. While no calves were born in that year, the right whale community breathed a sigh of relief that the deaths had been curbed.

January 2019 sparked fresh hope: Seven young right whales were born in the calving grounds off Georgia and Florida. But the jubilation didn’t last.

On June 4, a survey plane spotted 9-year-old Wolverine floating in a pool of blood in the Gulf of St. Lawrence. As a calf, Wolverine had been struck by a ship’s propeller and left with three parallel scars on his back, which reminded researchers of the comic book character of the same name. In his short life, Wolverine had survived three known entanglements in fishing gear, but he managed to free himself each time. Many others aren’t so lucky and either drown or starve to death, if the entanglement compromises their ability to feed.

A team of researchers and veterinarians from Fisheries and Oceans Canada, the Canadian Wildlife Health Cooperative, and the Marine Animal Response Society performed Wolverine’s necropsy and released their preliminary resultson June 9. They couldn’t immediately conclude what killed him, although further testing of tissue samples, which can take months, may yield a cause of death. (Also read about the unusual number of humpback whales dying along the East Coast.)

Punctuation’s body, on the other hand, leaves little question.

Learning from Punctuation

On the beach at Chéticamp, viscera spill from a six-foot laceration on Punctuation’s lower back, a wound that could only have been caused by a ship encounter. I stand upwind as much as possible, to avoid the stench of rotting flesh, which is pungent and strangely sweet.

The researchers and vets begin to dismantle Punctuation’s body. They use sharp knives to work through thick layers of blubber. Veterinarian Pierre-Yves Daoust hoists himself on top of the corpse, standing inside waist deep. His neoprene waders quickly darken with blood. The smell worsens as the day warms, but if Daoust is bothered, he shows no sign. With the help of an excavator, great strips of blubber are flensed from Punctuation's body, each landing on the sand with a deep thud.

The crew collects samples of the various tissues and organs, all of which will be catalogued and sent to researchers across the continent, who will analyze them to learn more about the health of the right whale population. “It’s important that their deaths aren’t in vain,” says Tonya Wimmer, of the Marine Animal Response Society, a Halifax-based rescue organization. Eventually, even Punctuation’s bones are pried loose and carted away.

Wimmer tells me that Punctuation was otherwise in excellent condition. “I’d never seen blubber that thick. She was so healthy looking, other than she had a giant cut down her back that killed her,” Wimmer says.

Every lost North Atlantic right whale is a blow, but Punctuation’s death stings especially bad. She was a prolific female, who had birthed eight calves in her 38 years. Since 1981, when she was first spotted as a calf herself, she’d been sighted many times and was well known to researchers.

Delivering sad news to the research community is often a job that falls to Wimmer. “Those are some of the worst emails and phone calls I have to make. People know these animals and they’re heartbroken,” she tells me, the strain in her voice palpable.

On the beach, suddenly, a hush spreads over the necropsy team. Work comes to a standstill. News of a third right whale fatality circulates among the crew—this one also found floating in the Gulf of St. Lawrence.

A group of six researchers sits down together on a sandbank, silent and dejected. One researcher sits alone down the beach, her face buried in her palms. The tragedy of 2017 seems to be repeating itself.

More deaths

Within 48 hours, another three whales are found, bringing the total death count to six. In just four weeks, 1.5 percent of the population has been lost. Most concerning is that four of the dead whales are reproductive females, of which there are now fewer than 100. To make things worse, three more right whales have been spotted entangled in the first weeks of July.

“It’s a crisis,” says Sean Brillant, senior conservation biologist with the Canadian Wildlife Federation, one of many NGOs that works on right whale research and risk prevention. Right whales have numbered fewer in the past, but it’s the precipitous decline that’s most concerning, he tells me.

A study published this year in the journal Diseases of Aquatic Organismsshowed that, in the last 15 years, 88 percent of right whale deaths for which a cause was determined were deemed either from entanglement or vessel strikes. It also revealed that there were no natural mortalities of adult or juvenile whales. The study concluded that without meaningful change, the extinction of North Atlantic right whales “is almost certain.” Some estimate that the species could be functionally extinct in 20 years.

Kim Davies, assistant professor of biology at the University of New Brunswick, doesn’t believe that we can weave a narrative just yet. She notes that this year’s fisheries closures and vessel speed restrictions in the Gulf of St. Lawrence were based on whale location data from past years. Right whales are shifting their migratory and feeding patterns, probably in response to climate change. Year to year, they concentrate in different places and at different times.

Davies’ research tracks the distribution of copepods. She hopes that with more knowledge about the movements of the whales' main food source, scientists will be able to predict where the whales will be, which could allow more tailored management strategies.

Until scientists have that data, however, regulators have little choice but to play it safe, says Amy Knowlton, a senior scientist at the New England Aquarium, which surveys and catalogues the population of North Atlantic right whales. She says that protective measures “must be broad throughout their range.”

On July 8, the Canadian government took steps to answer that call. Slowdown zones in the Gulf of St. Lawrence have been widened to include more areas and vessel classes, aerial surveillance has been increased sevenfold, and the criteria for fisheries closures are now considerably more conservative.

Even if these measures are successful in preventing further mortalities, the future of the North Atlantic right whale remains uncertain. But the right whale community hasn’t lost faith.

Solutions won’t come quickly, nor easily, Brillant says. Still, he sees an incredible amount of cooperation between industry, government, NGOs, and researchers. “It’s a full-court press going on,” he says. “There is good collaboration and communication and willingness.”

Knowlton, who has spent her career studying North Atlantic right whales, says the same. “Everybody cares,” she says, “and that gives me hope.”

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