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samjacksonwc · 2 years ago

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Pollination ♜ Sam × Sage

TIMING: Days before the Town Hall Meeting LOCATION: Namas-Tea Happy Farm, Outskirts PARTIES: @samjacksonwc & @loverleaf SUMMARY: Sam checks out the Namas-Tea Happy Farm in the Outskirts for any labor irregularities. Sage welcomes her new victim, er, friend! CONTENT: Drug tw, Drug use tw, just two weirdos hanging out

Of course Sage was worried, and of course she told the rest of the farm that she was not. Telling them otherwise would have been more problematic than helpful. Fortunately for Sage, she was very skilled in making people feel calm, better even, without lying outright. Words were her favorite weapon, and she knew how to wield them properly, masterfully. In the end, even without saying that she was not worried about a government man coming to the farm to check them out, an obvious lie, she still managed to convey to the farmers that everything was all right. She would handle it all. What could go wrong?

He went up the main drive until he reached the main gates. They were open, and as she told them to, the farmers happily bid him kind greetings, a nice and cozy welcome. She could’ve just left them closed, so the snoopy man would have to squeeze between the bars to get in. As he eyed the magnolia bushes lining the path, Sage watched him make his way to and inside the main house from the safety and comfort of her window. “He’s here,” she announced to no one but herself as she closed her curtains, took a hold of herself for a moment or two, before making her own way to greet him.

“Namasté, Sam Jackson!” Sage joined her palms together and bowed her head as she welcomed him to her abode, to their farm, smiling with warmth and giddy excitement, even though she was feeling more stressed and concerned within. “How was your travel? I hope all right?”

Finding the time to check on the strangely named Namas-Tea Happy Farm, a name that made his assistant Yoo-ara chuckle, was a little bit hard, considering the past few weeks have been a mess for the town and the Tourism Board. But the youngest member of the Board, Sam, would not be denied. He had made a promise to check on the place for any irregularities in terms of labor, which wasn’t even his jurisdiction, and he vowed to keep that promise to the laborers of the farm, none of which he had ever met before and would meet until today, when he finally made his visit. Ah, the things we do to procrastinate.

“Uhh, namasté, miss Sage, wasn’t it?” Her name was very peculiar to Sam, though he couldn’t judge. After all, he shared his name with a Hollywood actor, which often confused and then made people laugh when they finally got to the bottom of all that confusion. Sam didn’t look anything like his actor counterpart. He wasn’t as dignified or as threatening or as stoic. Sam was just Sam, and it often left new acquaintances disappointed when they realized he wasn’t the man with the snakes on the plane. “My travel was all right. Will you be giving me a tour around your farm?”

Sam took a good look around her place, though he tried to be insistent on being frank and to the point. He was here to do some checking, after all, and this was definitely not a friendly visit. For the most part. She does look…very friendly. Easy, Sam. Don’t be so pathetic.

“Yes,” Sage beamed. “It’s Sage Magnolia. That’s my name.” Despite the many, many criticisms of her chosen name over the years, she was mightily proud of it. It combined two of the many, many things that she loved: sage, with its stress-relieving properties, and magnolias, the very same flowers that grew in her hair. Strangely, as the years went by, people have stopped asking her as much about the magnolias in her hair, easily accepting the non-explanation of how they looked good in her hair as accessories. “I will, though would you like some tea first? Maybe those pastries we’ve discussed online?”

Sage found no difficulty in sensing that Sam was smitten by her look. Whether there was anything deeper than surface attraction, she didn’t really care. All she cared about was that he took to her quite well, which meant she could use his own emotions to her advantage. Just like old times. How many others have fallen to her charm, her beauty? She hasn’t even kept count. Outside of her more active contingencies, her social skills proved pivotal in keeping the farm afloat. This visit would be no different. Sage would win Sam over and he’d stop being a threat to her and the farmers. “Shall we?”

“Well, I am feeling a bit peckish,” Sam beamed, following her lead to wherever the tea and pastries were. Most people in town were just as friendly, offering him some food whenever he visited, though those people knew who he was and what he did for the town. The others who didn’t weren’t as friendly but those who really knew him, how he never fails to try and mask the dangers of the town as nothing more than rumors or even lies, were the least friendliest of them all. Probably for good reason. “What kind of tea are we talking about? And pastries? Like cookies?”

Sam did not hesitate to take his seat when he finally received his tea and pastries. He wasn’t that hungry but he would never say no to free food, especially not when it’s from a pretty lady. “So, like, have you always been here? I mean, as the farm owner or something? I don’t think I’ve seen a lot of you in town.” And he would remember. With her pretty face, Sam would’ve been head over heels for her. And most likely get summarily rejected. That’s just how things were. It is what it is. Hopefully, this one’s different.

“Oh, goodie!” Sage made tiny claps when he agreed to have some tea and pastries first. She was also delighted that he didn’t make a big deal about her name. Usually, people made a big deal about her name. Now it was her turn to make a big deal about someone else’s name, his name. She asked a question while leading him into her tearoom. “So your name is really Sam Jackson? Like the movie star?” She was even more excited when he inquired about her tea and pastries. “Well, what’s your poison, mister? We have assam, darjeeling, and noon chai! As for the pastries, have you ever had vada pav?”

The assortment of offerings were already actually waiting for them in her tearoom, prepared in advance after he shared his intention of visiting her at the farm online. It didn’t really take much time or effort to make the pastries and the teas, the ingredients readily available on the farm. For herself, Sage took a cup of noon chai before pointing out the signs on two separate plates of the vada pav pastries: one normal and the other with a special ingredient. “I guess so. I do travel a lot, outside of town and the country, so maybe we’ve just had conflicting schedules until now.”

“Huh, maybe,” Sam shrugged as he opened his mouth and started to usher inside a piece of pastry. He stopped when he failed to pronounce vada pav in his head. “Vada what? It’s, uhm, nothing weird, right? Just healthy baked bread? Noon chai sounds good, too, but no poison.” He chuckled out loud at his terrible pun and watched as the tea was poured in his glass almost immediately. He drank his tea first and waited for her response before stuffing his face with the baked goods. Just in case. “Yeah, like the movie star, but I’m more handsome, right?”

Once they were done with the pleasantries, Sam immediately switched to work mode. He looked around the place, admiring the view, before throwing pointed questions at the otherwise attractive farm owner. “So, like, is this a family farm? Your parents left this to you? You look too young to start something like this on your own. Or maybe your boyfriend owned this place before he left it with you after the break-up?” That last bit was obviously a reach, a terrible attempt to check whether she was single or not. Hey, if it works, it works. If not, then it’s back to business.

“Of course, you are, Sam Jackson of White Crest,” Sage giggled to indulge the man’s ego, hoping that the act would skew his loyalties toward her. Didn’t he come to root out any irregularities in the farm’s inner workings? She’s suffered her fair share of his kind, though they never failed to amuse her. This one was more of the same, confident of his power, or at least what he believed was power. “Nothing weird, of course. Just deep-fried potato dumplings in between bread buns. You like buns, don’t you? Most men do.”

“You could say that,” Sage kept the man company as he began his work, interrogating her with all the questions he could come up with. Again, this wasn’t her first rodeo. She knew the loopholes, the routine, though her memory has suffered over the decades. She could only hope she wouldn’t slip up this time around. It wouldn’t be good for the farm and most especially the farmers. “I started this farm with a couple of friends, but they’re gone now. No boyfriend at the moment. Unless you’re thinking of applying, handsome Sam Jackson?”

“Wait, Jackson…” And then Sage remembered someone else who had that last name, someone who was neither a friend nor an enemy, oftentimes a thorn on her side and fewer a boon. She squinted at him, noticed the similarities in their facial structure, and heaved a deep sigh as she contemplated their association. “I know of someone who had the same last name… How many Jacksons are there in town? You would know, wouldn’t you?”

Sam nodded at every graceful word that slipped out of Sage’s beautiful mouth, as if he was a moth and she was the fiery death of him. It was a trance that he was no stranger to, having been in numerous ones throughout his stay here in White Crest. When she mentioned the word ‘buns’, however, Sam unintentionally snickered like a grade school boy. He wasn’t thinking about fluffy pastry, especially not in the presence of Sage, though it was probably her intention. Be that as it may, Sam was unaware of any subtle implications. He was just being a grade school boy. As per usual. “Yes, I love buns.”

“Oh,” Sam did find himself blushing red when Sage explicitly dangled her carrot juice in front of his thirsty, thirsty donkey brain. He even gulped, realizing his throat just went dry, and went for a quick sip of tea to wet his whistle. Literally. “I mean, if you’re accepting applications, why not?” He shot her a playful smirk, though hers was much better and less nervous. His eyes started wandering around places it should not, though he caught himself and feigned a cough to hide his mistake. “Can’t say that I do, but I’m sure I’m the only important Jackson in town.”

It may have sounded like an idiotic boast or an arrogant ignorance, but Sam did consider himself the only important Jackson in town, mostly because he was the only Jackson in town he knew of, especially the only Jackson in town that worked for the town that he knew of. Sam’s focus was on tourists these days, lacking as they may be, so he was a little out of touch with the quieter denizens of the town. He barely even remembered those he had bumped into a few months ago. He did remember the “hotties,” though, so there was that. “What about you? Any family in town?”

Sage simply giggled at Sam’s declaration of love for buns. They both knew what he was referring to, and it wasn’t the pastry. Looking him over, Sage considered his application very acceptable. The man was handsome and charming but he also seemed…innocent, to use a less offensive word. He was the perfect boyfriend, which in Sage’s mind was no more than someone who could please her in more ways than one. A living, breathing toy. We all know the one.

Sage, however, became more interested in his assertion of being the only important Jackson in town. Crossing her legs, real slow to draw his attention to the act, she leaned back on her side, an arm draped over the head of her couch. Her smile remained ever enticing. “Are you now? How important?” She wondered if he was some sort of fairy king or ancient vampire. If he was a hunter leader, though, that may be a problem. “The farmers are my only family in town.”

“Very important,” Sam played up his ego some more, stroking it in his head. Sage’s very seductive handling of his pride, masterful even, didn’t help him make sense of what she was doing. To Sam, she was a lovely woman who was very interested in him and the importance he had within the two, failing to recognize that he was being played by someone who just wanted him to give them the best result for them and the farm. Sam would be a terrible auditor. Fortunately for him, he was a Tourism Board member. “I’m the youngest member of the town’s tourism board!”

Sam actually took pride in that fact. Well, most of the time. Well, a part of him does. Sam hated all the politicking that he had to wade through to get to the position, and he hated more that he had to do it every second of the day now, and all for what? To spite his dead father? To outplay him, so to speak? To outdo a dead man? These days, however, it was harder to make sense of what he took pride in anymore. He did enjoy his job, though he would never admit it to himself when alone.

“Oh,” Sam grinned again, also from ear to ear, as he made himself comfortable in his seat. “Well, maybe I can be part of that family someday.” He literally winked twice as he made the confusing statement. In his head, it was a pretty smooth pickup line. He failed to realize, however, that being part of a family doesn’t just mean husband and wife. Most of the time, the first thought was brother and sister. Or brother and brother, sister and sister. Maybe even parent and child. So many other things before husband and wife. Sam was not good with flirting.

“Tourism…board?” At first, Sage was a little confused. She had expected him to say something else, something more interesting, maybe even more intimidating, but he did seem like he took great pride in it. He could have been the king of the faes, which meant he would be very interesting and might even be quite useful to her and the farm. An ancient vampire might make him troublesome, but there was nothing more exciting than a dangerous fling. The hunter leader would have been the worst result. Or that was what she thought before he revealed what he truly thought the meaning of the word ‘important’ was.

And then Sage’s eyes lit up. Tourism board? That meant he had some semblance of power over the town’s tourist attractions, right? Maybe even have influential connections that could be directed toward her farm? Their produce? If she was very lucky, he could even become the mouthpiece she needed to truly establish her agenda: No to war, yes to peace! Surely, tourists would love vegetarian food and being told to stop being violent. “Tourism board! Of course! Well, aren’t you real important.”

That bit about the family thing was real awkward, though. Even Sage couldn’t deny that. She gave him an uncomfortable chuckle, as if still trying to make it seem that his pick-up line was acceptable, even though anyone with half a brain would be quick to realize it had failed, missed its mark. Maybe, she thought, Sam was one of those people who got off on those scenarios with their family. She almost shuddered at the thought, so she tried to change the topic. “Let’s talk about your family, if it’s all right? Are they still in town?”

“I am, aren’t I?” Sam fumbled for something interesting to say but only managed to repeat rhetorically the same thought that’s been discussed by the pair for minutes now. It was like he couldn’t find something else to move on to, something more interesting than his job description. Maybe there was just nothing else interesting about him. Nothing that he believed to be or would interest someone more interesting like Sage. “My family? Well, yes and no. They’re not exactly still in town. But they are.”

It was hard to describe his current situation. Technically, all his relatives were buried in town, so that means they’re still in town, right? One of them, his least favorite one, was even haunting him. But they’re also dead and no longer interacting with the rest of the town, except for his least favorite one, so doesn’t that also mean they’re technically no longer in town? Sam confused himself to no end by focusing on the wrong things. As per usual. So he just decided to come clean to Sage, “None of them are alive, but they’re in town.” Smooth.

“Anyway,” Sam tried to move the conversation elsewhere after that long, awkward pause. “Should we do the tour now? I’d love to see the rest of the farm.”

Sam’s explanation confused Sage for a bit. She had no idea what anything Schrodinger was, and should she be given the clue of a cat, she’d most likely just nod and think to herself that whoever had been talking about Schrodinger's cat quite literally was just talking about some German guy’s cat. Fortunately for her, Sam went on and explained it much better in the end. “Ah, so they’re…part of the town itself now, no longer just members of it before…” She tried her hand at the explanation herself but felt very uncomfortable talking about someone else’s dead, especially someone else she had just met and was now in a trance over her. Man is something.

“Oh, but of course,” Sage quickly rose from her seat after cleaning the crumbs of pastries from her dainty little hands and off her dress, even though there weren’t any on her dress. With a smile, she gestured for him to follow her around the farm and began the tour without much delay. Of course, Sage tailored the tour to suit her own needs. Well, the farm’s needs. The farm must survive, and so, the tour must only feature the things that would secure its survivability. The good things. “The Namas-Tea Happy Farm is a very sustainable organic farm commune that allows for everyone to come in and just plant where suitable.”

Every now and then, a farmer would make an appearance and Sage would exchange smiles and pleasantries with them, as if all this wasn’t tailored perfectly to display the truth of their camaraderie. What is the greatest, truest unity if not for the defense of someone’s home, of someone’s livelihood, of someone’s life? Few would argue that it would be for peace and love but peace and love are very complicated generalizations. Sage would know. She’s lived through different versions of them. “If there’s anything else you’d like to know, feel free to ask. I’ll try my best to answer you.” And then the girly chuckle to sell the story.

To say that Sam was very impressed with the farm would be quite an understatement. He has visited something like this before, entire acres of crops and greens, within and outside the town. One of his closest friends in White Crest lived on a farm, after all. Well, they were close growing up but things change when you leave town without even saying a goodbye. That said, he did recently save her from vampires, so that should get him some points, right?

“You said you started this farm with friends, right? If you don’t mind me asking, why did they leave all this with you? I mean, if it were me and I had a hand at this today, I wouldn’t want to leave,” Sam meant that as a compliment but he didn’t really think things through. What could be a random, nonchalant statement of admiration intended for such a blissful and bountiful property could be received as a crass slight to abandonment issues. Of course, Sam had no way to know if that last part applied, but he didn’t try to be sensitive about it either. Sage was beautiful. Why would all of her friends leave her, right?

“Well,” Sage started to respond with a sing-song tune, not really sure how else to go about it. It’s a tale as old as time, a tragic tale, one that has had enough time for all involved to finally move past and let go of. Yet Sage, despite her longevity, still couldn’t, still held on to the regrets and despair of events that have long unfolded, that she could no longer change. She has tried, debatably her best, but every now and again, that same longevity only served to remind her of how tragic losing her loved ones had been. That and she still literally had a hold on the constant reminder that was the farm. “It wasn’t like they had a choice.”

“It’s sort of the same thing with your family,” Sage tried to go the more familiar route, trying to make her situation resonate with that of Sam’s, even though she wasn’t quite sure if he had suffered the same tragedies. Or if he hadn’t. “You can’t really leave a place if you die there, can’t stay in a place if you die elsewhere.” Did that make sense? Sage’s shrug made her believe it did, though a part of her was very uncertain.

“But you’re right about one thing, Mr. Jackson: It’s hard to leave something like this. Something productive. Something so loved by so many people, useful to so many people,” Sage tried to reach out to his sense of community, trying to make him sympathize with her and the farmers, especially if he found something that wouldn’t fly legally. Bureaucracy wasn’t something she was good at. She’s tried that as well but it just wasn’t for her. It’s been a pain in her butt for a long while now. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be as problematic with Sam.

“Ah,” Sam was at a loss for words. Perhaps even for the first time in his life. How was he supposed to know all her friends are dead now? That seemed very unlikely in his head, though at the same time, also pretty believable. It wasn’t like they all died at the same time. Probably over the years. Due to different reasons. Sam tried his best to rationalize Sage’s tragedy the only way he knew how, which wasn’t hard, considering he did that on a daily basis.

As a member of the Tourism Board that was trying their best to cover up all the supernatural bullshit in town, mostly because the older members were adamant in the belief that it was the only way to save the people, Sam had grown to be very well-versed in bullshitting his way through life. “That explains a lot,” he tried to flash her an understanding smile, though the awkwardness in the air rendered it somewhat uncomfortable.

Sam couldn’t agree more. The farm was fantastic. It was most definitely a breath of fresh air, though to be fair, that was mostly only because Sam spent most of his days downtown, never in the outskirts. Who knew how many more similar farms were in this part of the town? Should be him, if not the Tourism Board, but he digressed. In the grand scheme of things, the farm was something that seemed very useful to the community, and that should count for something, right? Sam believed the same. “I can see that. Seems to me like a great place in town. Your papers are in order, I assume? Because if they are, then I see no problem here. None at all.”

Sage couldn’t help but smile at Sam’s response. Her plan was working! Or at least it seemed like it. The man didn’t seem like he wanted to scrutinize anything else. Was it her charm? Or was it the familiarity of death that seemed to draw them to each other. She had lost her friends, and he had lost his family. This town was a constant reminder of their respective losses, yet they chose to stay. If that wasn’t something that bound them together, Sage wouldn’t know what else would qualify.

Despite the sad realization, however, Sage still managed to put on a cheerful aura around her. No use in sulking, she always believed. If there was an opportunity to choose the sun over the moon, then the sun was her best option. Always was. “They are. Would you like to take a look at them? They’re in my private quarters.”

Sage gestured back inside the main house, eager to lead him away from the farmers. They were good people, all of them, but they weren’t always reliable when it came to making sure bureaucrats like Sam wouldn’t find anything to zero in on, anything unnecessary, and use for their terrible agenda against people like them. Sam seemed different, but they had just met, and Sage wouldn’t risk the farm on a first impression.

“Maybe some other time,” Sam had to decline the most tempting of all offers when he received a text from Yoo-ara, reminding him of preparations for an upcoming event. He shook his head, sighing, at the most inopportune of all distractions, before turning to the lovely Sage with an apologetic smile. “I have to go and help with the town hall meeting stuff. You should drop by. Might be a whole lot of important stuff to learn.” That last part was a stab in the dark for him as well, as he was not in the loop with whatever that damned thing was about. For his part, he was just thinking of once again telling everyone there was nothing to worry about. Even if there was.

After bidding some more goodbyes, Sam headed out of her place, where Yoo-ara was waiting in her car. That was one of the good things about having your own assistant: They can drive you anywhere. Unfortunately, Yoo-ara was a terrible driver, mostly because she didn’t like paying too much attention on the road and may actually enjoy screaming at other drivers and passengers. Still, she was the only one he’s got. “I had a fun time, Sage,” Sam gave her one final nod before he got inside the car. “Maybe we can have more fun times in the future.”

#wickedswriting #❖《 ⋯ ♖ para ♜ ⋯ 》❖#❖《 ⋯ ♖ feat. sage magnolia ♜ ⋯ 》❖#loverleaf #❖《 ⋯ ♖ pollination ♜ ⋯ 》❖#❖《 ⋯ ♖ s4. fractures ♜ ⋯ 》❖#drug tw #drug use tw

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hyukalyptus · 4 months ago

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or else what? —hueningkai x fem!reader | enemies to enemies with benefits(?). NSFW/MDNI!

cw. mean dom!kai, reader and kai are mean to each other, feat. soob and yj and their partners for a very short amount of time (not in smut part tho), camping, reader is a type A boss bitch kinda person, mentions of rain, kissing, hair pulling, mean names (slut, stupid, dumb, loser), pet names (baby), sex, light restraining, ruined orgasms, biting, nipple play, some dacryphilia, maybe a lil bit of publicness? (theyre at a campsite but implied no one else can hear anything), creampie, reader is embarrassed that she did stuff w kai and tells him, reader has a dog, reader is good at video games, chubby!reader implied, lmk if i missed anything! notes. im usually not one for mean stuff, im way more of a softie, so i tried something new but im quite nervous about it. oh! and this is based off a thought i posted the other week. lmk what ya think ;) smut under cut. wc. 4.1K

“Why are you being nice to him?” You snap at your dog who is currently greeting your friends at your front door. Normally, you wouldn’t mind, of course, but they have taken a particular liking for Kai. Apparently, you’re the only person in the world that hates him. Kai that is. The constant laughing, the sickeningly sweet optimism, and his sheer humility—it all screams fake to you.

You hate every little thing about him and he hates you right back. The way you disagree with everything he says just because, how you’re always pointing out when he’s wrong, how you seem to be depressingly pessimistic. You put up with each other for the sake of your friends—not everyone in every friend group has to get along, right?

“Nice to see you too.”

“Someone separate them please?” Soobin asks. “I can’t deal with another argument right now.” He rubs his temple out of caution.

Everyone’s over for a game night—Soobin, his partner, River, as well as Yeonjun, and your best friend, Sage, who has been in an on-again-off-again relationship with him since they met. Right now, they’re off, but definitely still friendly.

“How about some Smash Bros?”

“No,” you say to Kai. “Mario Kart.”

“River and I have been talking about playing Smash Bros all day.”

“Not my problem.”

“How about we take a vote?” He suggests. You reluctantly agree, watching as you’re the only one that raises your hand to play Mario Kart before you glare at Sage, guilting them into voting for it too. Regardless of their vote, though, it’s still four against two. Kai sticks out his tongue at you just to rub it in your face. God, you hate it when he wins.

“Maybe you should stop pouting,” Sage says, nudging your shoulder. “Beat him in the next round. You know you’re better than anyone here.” You take the opportunity to easily—and quickly—beat Kai in a one-on-one match. Now it’s his turn to pout while he grabs a snack.

Luckily, everyone makes it through the night without any blood or tears shed but when the group’s annual camping trip comes up, the cold weather mixed with the prolonged close proximity to people leads to a grumpy Kai arguing with an even grumpier you.

The reason behind the initial argument is long forgotten—you’re seemingly arguing over anything and everything from you stopping too often to take pictures to him taking sips from your water bottle, which he insists was an accident. Everyone’s keeping you two as far apart from each other as possible, with him leading the pack and you bringing up the rear.

“It looks like it’s gonna rain soon,” River points out. “We should probably set up camp.” Everyone agrees, setting sights for the campsite.

“What do you think about this spot over here, Sage?” You ask but are immediately answered with the guiltiest look from them, eyes glancing between you and Yeonjun. “Don’t tell me.” You roll your eyes for what feels like the millionth time that day. “You’re back together?” You ask quietly.

“Please don’t be mad,” they say. “It’s going really well this time.”

“I didn’t bring another tent.”

“Kai’s tent is huge,” Sage says, loud enough for Kai to hear, as if they’re making a suggestion to him. “Can she stay with you?”

“I thought Yeonjun was sleeping in my tent.”

“I was gonna stay in Sage’s,” Yeonjun responds, with an attempted wink. Everyone looks between each other, dodging each other’s eyes, no one wanting to give in. Everyone’s desperate to stay with their partners but you and Kai are desperate to not spend a single second alone together. Soobin and River won’t budge. Sage’s pleading eyes looking at you added to the pleading eyes Yeonjun sends Kai, you look at each other before he finally agrees—

“Fine,” Kai says, dropping the poles to the ground. “You gotta finish setting it up though. I’m gonna go get some water and refill the cooler with ice,” he says, leaving you with an impossible task. There’s a reason you didn’t bring your own tent.

Struggling with the tent for at least thirty minutes, it’s even less put together than when Kai turned the task over to you. The two couples have snuggled into their tents for the night and the drizzle is quickly turning into a downpour. Soaked, cold, and annoyed, Kai’s making his way back to you, anger etched all over his face when he doesn’t have a dry tent to walk into.

“Do you not know how to put a tent up?”

“No, actually I don’t.”

“I could’ve set up three tents by now,” he says, but doesn’t have time to be much madder—he’s gotta get a roof over his own head. Without speaking, he takes over completely, getting it up in about ten minutes. It would’ve been quicker if he didn’t have to work in the rain.

Settling in, you try to dry the parts of the interior that got wet from the rain, but it doesn’t help much. He peels off his now-soaked shirt and searches for a dry one.

“Ah, that was my last t-shirt.”

“I’m sorry. I tried—”

“I don’t care,” he stops you, holding his hand up.

Falling silent, you change the subject, “What took you so long anyway?”

“I was talking to someone at the ice machine for a while,” he says matter-of-factly, holding up his laptop. “Wanna watch a movie before bed?”

“No.” You lay your head on the stupid camping pillow hoping for some rest. But your plan is disrupted by the blaring trumpets of a movie intro. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Watching a movie.”

“Turn it off.”

“I didn’t ask for permission to watch it,” he points out. “I asked if you wanted to join me.”

“Isn’t it gonna bother the other campers?”

“Doubt they can hear it.”

Frustrated, you roll over and cover your ears. You thought you could sleep through anything, especially with the rain pouring outside, but you were wrong. Eventually, you give up, throwing your pillow down and slamming his laptop shut.

“What are you doing? You asshole—” he snaps, glaring at you.

“Me? You’re the ass for not letting me sleep,” you fire back, narrowing your eyes.

“I wasn’t supposed to have you in here anyway,” he mutters.

“I’m not an asshole,” you say defensively.

“Yes, you are,” he spits. “You always have to have it your way.”

“I’m not having this argument with you,” you say, turning away and trying to block out his escalating anger. You pull the thin camping blanket over your head, desperate for some peace.

He huffs, clearly frustrated, but you ignore it. The sound of rain tapping against the tent becomes your only solace. Minutes pass in silence, each second stretching longer than the last. You can feel his restless energy beside you, the tension almost palpable.

“I can't believe you. You're so annoying,” he says.

You simply lay there, trying to block out the muttering under his breath. The stickiness of the damp sleeping bags and the cold camping pillow are ridiculously uncomfortable.

Remembering the clean, dry blankets you have stored in the trunk of your car for emergencies and you get up to grab them silently, ignoring his insults. Returning with them, his eyes light up and he asks, “Where did you get those?”

“My car,” you answer nonchalantly, setting up your new bed. You try to salvage what you can of the sleeping bag to have some kind of barrier between the damp tent floor and your blanket, but it’s not perfect. Eventually settling on the makeshift bed, you can feel Kai staring at you through your closed eyelids. “Can I help you?” You ask without opening them.

“Aren’t you gonna share those with me?”

“Why would I?”

“You’re the one that got our other blankets and the tent all wet.”

“Not my fault you didn’t bring back-up.”

He exasperates, clearly done with you and all your…what does he call it? Selfish nonsense? “I can’t believe I have to share a tent with you. And you get it all wet in here and won’t even share the dry blankets with me?”

“You think I'm happy about this either?" Your arms flail before you go on one of your famous rants. “I don’t even like camping but I come along with Sage because they’re my best friend and I was looking forward to spending time alone with them to talk but because they decided to start fucking Yeonjun again I have to sleep in a tent with you, which you make me put together even though I don’t know how to put it together so its disgusting in here and you expect me to share my blankets with you? You’re never nice to me why the fuck would I share them with you? You’re always making me look like a bitch in front of everyone when I know you’re just—”

Kai suddenly yanks you by your elbow and says, “Would you please just shut up?”

Seeing him this mad…you don’t know if he’s ever looked like this. Red in the face, eyebrows furrowed, not to mention he’s still shirtless since all his clothes are soaked. You look over his body—you’ve never seen him before—and you realize just how muscular he is. Broad-shouldered, defined pecs and ripples in his arms, particularly the one gripping you so harshly.

You smirk at him before saying, “Make me." Looking over your face, he doesn’t know what comes over him. Maybe it's anger or frustration or the ambiance from the sound of rain against the tent and the small camping lamp, but he can’t help it.

Crashing his lips into yours, you’re taken by surprise. You feel the power his plush lips give off, but only for a second before you push him off.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“I don’t–I don’t know, I, uh…” He stutters, trying to find something—anything—to say, but no luck. Looking at each other, something clicks like we need to have each other now.

You pull him to you by cupping his cheeks and crashing your lips into his quickly, eagerly, desperately. Hands in his hair, his on your hips, he squeezes your chubby thighs, wanting more, but—

“Woah, woah, woah, what’s happening? You and I are making out?” He asks, shock etched across his face as his eyebrows furrow.

“Well, not anymore.” You look at him confused. “Did you forget you’re the one that kissed me first?”

“That was just so you’d shut up.”

“Don’t act like you don’t want me. I see you staring at my tits all the time.” You smirk at him and his eyes shift, admitting guilt. Realization hits you. “...Is that why you’re such an ass to me? Because you’re sexually frustrated whenever you’re around me? Do you…like me?”

“No,” he says defensively. “I hate you actually. You’re so annoying.” He rolls his eyes. “But the most annoying part about you is how much I wanna fuck you.” Your eyes widen, but a smile slowly spreads across his face before he asks, “Is that why you’re such an ass to me?” Leaning in closer, he examines your face, looking for any sign of weakness. “It is, isn’t it?” You shake your head. “Say it.”

“Kai.”

“I wanna hear you say you want me.”

The quickest, most disingenuous, “I want you,” comes out of your mouth. Did you really just say that? It’s not like you haven’t noticed how handsome he’d gotten recently, but it’s also not like you’ve ever thought about doing anything. Before tonight, the thought of him even touching you made your skin crawl. But right now, you don’t think you’ve ever wanted anyone more. Reaching for him, you add, “Now shut up and fuck me.”

Still shirtless from when he peeled off the wet fabric a few minutes ago, he tugs at the hem of your tank top. Slipping it off you, his eyebrows raise at your bare chest—full and needing to be squeezed, which he does immediately. Your nipples perky and hard from arousal and the cool air are simply begging to be sucked. His warm, welcoming and wet lips wrapped around one elicit a sound from you that you hope is covered by the rain outside.

The others would never let you live it down if they heard you two fucking.

Mouths all over—his on your nipples and your collarbone, yours on his mouth and his shoulders—it’s a whirlwind of kisses and pure lust.

“I hate you,” you murmur, adding a nice hair tug for good measure.

“I hate you too,” he responds. “So much.” The tent, damp from the rain and hot breath warms you up, skin slick with a sheen of sweat. Sleeping bags and blankets ruffle underneath your bodies as you rush to undress each other fully. “You’re so fucking stupid,” he says against your ear. “Don’t even know how to put up a tent. Need my help for everything?”

“You’ve never been any help to me,” you respond. “Plus, we wouldn’t have gotten rained on so much if you didn’t get lost leading everyone. Need your phone for everything? Can’t even handle one short hike? Good for nothing,” you spit. “Except…you’re kind of a good kisser.”

“Wish I could say the same about you.”

“Don’t lie,” you smirk. “I’m an incredible kisser.” He may roll his eyes but he heads straight back for more. “But you’re taking too long. Hurry up,” you say between kisses. Grazing his hand down your hip, he slides two fingers between your pussy lips and—

“You’re that wet for me and I’ve barely even touched you? Desperate slut.” You grab his cock, making him jerk forward, his mouth dropping open.

“You’re already that hard and I’ve barely even touched you? Horny loser.” Without warning, he lines himself up at your entrance and shoves his cock inside you, forcing a yelp from your throat.

Covering your mouth, he leans down, gracing his lips over your earlobe before whispering, “You never shut the fuck up, do you?” And he’s relentless. Fucking you fast and hard, whispering mean, dirty shit in your ear, shivers rolling down your spine at every syllable. “You don’t deserve to feel this good.”

“And you think you deserve this pussy?” You fire right back. Although, he does seem to be winning with the sheer amount of moaning coming from your mouth compared to his controlled sounds and expert movements. You try your best to compose yourself before saying, “A dumb fuck like you doesn’t deserve to even touch my skin.”

“Is that why you gasp when I pinch your nipples?” He asks. You narrow your eyes at him. But he definitely proves himself right. Rolling your nipple between his pointer finger and thumb, basking in the chills it gives you, clearly sending shocks of pleasure throughout your body. You reach to touch his broad chest but he stops you. “Nuh-uh. Hands to yourself,” he says, gripping your wrists harshly and pinning them to the ground.

Suddenly, you’ve never wanted to touch someone more in your life. The way his skin glistens, muscles looking so strong, a bead of sweat drips between his pecs and you swear you clit twitches. Honestly, you’re in shock. What do you usually do with your hands? Since when has he been like this? An absolute slut? A mean slut at that. But you love it.

Your hands stay at your side after he moves to squeeze your body again but you can’t help but reach up—you’re desperate to touch him. He halts, lifting his fingers off your tits.

“Every time you try to touch me without permission, I’ll stop touching you,” he says. You surrender, putting your hands under your back. “Good girl.”

Fuck. That felt nice too. Being degraded is one thing, but getting rewarded for following directions? That’s delicious. Heat rushes to your ears.

“Please—”

“Ah,” he places his pointer finger over your lips. “I told you to shut up, didn’t I?” You make a show of keeping your mouth closed. “You learn so fast, hm?” You smile—a genuine giddy smile. “So cute,” he whispers, placing a thumb on your clit, circling it gently.

But when a weak little, “Fuck,” slips out of your mouth, he stops.

“Did I say you could speak?” You shake your head. Running a thumb across the apple of your cheek, he gives you a look somewhere between my pathetic little slut and you’re being such a good girl for me.

Keeping your mouth shut, your body is in complete bliss, succumbing to the overwhelming pleasure his cock and hands are giving you. You’re positively drunk on his cock, letting him do whatever he wants to you—touch you here, lick and bite you there, kiss on this, suck on that—not only to be his good little slut, but because it feels fucking incredible. He knows what he’s doing, you’ll give him that.

Then you feel it, your orgasm is slowly approaching, every move he makes pushes you closer and closer to the edge. And he knows it. The little whimpers you make, trying to hold back. The twitches your clit makes. The pulses of your pussy.

“Aw,” he starts condescendingly. “Is my good little slut gonna come for me?” You nod rapidly, being sure to keep your mouth shut and movements under control. The last thing you want right now is a punishment. Or maybe it’s the thing you want most? The lines are too blurred to tell. “Say it.”

You can barely mumble it, but you manage to croak out, “You’re gonna make me come, Kai.”

“Good girl.” He doesn’t change a single thing. It creeps closer and closer until you can feel your body start to tip over. And then he does something…expected? Surprising? Honestly, you’re not so sure anymore. He stops, your orgasm so close to crashing over you, ruined by this son of a bitch.

Tears form in your eyes. Was he really doing this to you? This annoying, stupid fucking jerk you’ve hated for years making you cry over his cock?

“That’s for being such a goddamn nuisance since the day I met you.”

What do you do now? Be a jerk to him? Overpower him and pin him down? Sit there like a hole needing to be fucked? You decide to go for the last option, hoping he’ll make you come as fast as he can. Although, truthfully, you feel like one swipe across your clit would make you finish you at this point.

“Tell me you don’t deserve me.” You keep your mouth shut. Gently wrapping his fingers around your throat, you stare at his eyes. He chuckles like he’s proud of you before he says, “You may speak.”

“I don’t deserve you.” He squeezes harder, almost like he’s saying that’s not enough. “I don’t deserve to feel this good. I don’t deserve your cock. I don’t deserve…anything.”

“Good girl.” He loosens his grip around your throat. He’s done with his fun now. The ache in both of your bodies is getting unbearable and he’s determined to make you come first. Which he supposes he already did, despite ruining it for you. But he’s gotta get you back to that place before he gets there first.

Returning to the hard and fast pace of fucking you like he was a few minutes ago, his cock slams in and out and out of your pussy, ripples running down your thighs, ass, tits, everywhere. He stares in awe of your perfect tits bouncing in rhythm with his thrusts.

Your mouth opens and closes like you want to say something, but if you speak without permission, he may stop. You decide to take a chance anyway.

“Kai…” you squeak out through the rough movements. He responds with a sweet yet sinister smile that says you may speak. “You are gonna let me come, right?”

His eyebrows furrow, face full of pity. He asks, “You think I should?”

“You better or I’ll…” You trail off.

“You’ll what?” He stops moving, therefore earning a pathetic whine from you, trying to protest without words. “What are you gonna do to me?”

Now what’s a good punishment for him? Clearly, he’s used to being the one punishing his sexual partners—you wonder how his other subs have dealt with him being a jerk. You don’t want to overpower him like you thought you did. There’s something about being pinned down like this, letting him do whatever he wants, not having to move an inch. You’re such a powerful woman everywhere else—the type A personality type, which you admit can get overwhelmingly exhausting.

Letting someone take full control over you like this—it’s relaxing. You wonder how much he’s enjoying himself but you notice the way his eyes flutter when you simply tighten your pussy around his cock, how he hasn’t stopped touching you since you finally let him, hell, he kissed you first. Of course he’s enjoying this. And bingo—you’ve got just enough control to get what you want.

“I’ll never let you fuck me like this again.”

Narrowing his eyes at you, it's like he knows that you caught him in the act of something. Cocking his head to the side, he asks, “We can’t let that happen, now can we?”

Somehow, the energy shifts to be even more desperate. Taking out years and years of frustration from hating each other while simultaneously wanting to have sex. Fucking as fast as your bodies will let you, the tent fills with the absolutely obscene noises coming from your mouths. The only reason you aren’t holding back is because the rain beating against the plastic tent and the occasional thunder thankfully covers most of it.

When one of his thumbs finds your clit, you feel like you’re floating. The air falls out of your lungs, pleasure taking over your body as you relax into your orgasm. You’re drunk, high on his cock and the only thing you’re seeing are stars and that stupid smirk plastered across his face. It rips through your body like lightning, shooting out your toes and fingertips.

“Talk to me,” he says breathlessly in your ear. But you can’t. You can only manage strangled noises to let him know you’re having an incredible orgasm.

Coming down from your high, though, you finally say, “Fuck, that felt so good.”

“Tell me how good.”

“You made me feel so…so fucking good, Kai,” you say, shaking your head, unsure of what else to tell him. Call it post-nut clarity, but why the hell were you having sex with him again? Honestly, who cares? He’s actually pretty hot and he’s damn good at this too. What happens after this? Enemies with benefits? Never mention it again? You make a note to come back to this with him later. But right now, you need to get to the matter at hand. “Why don’t you tell me how good I feel?”

“Oh baby, you feel so good,” he says. “Your pussy might be the only thing I like about you.” He chuckles, his mouth dropping open, undeniably close to his own orgasm. “Well, maybe your pussy and your tits.” Burying his face between them, he bites down on the plush, groaning against your skin.

“I need you to come inside me, Kai. Please.”

“Keep talking to me like that.”

And you do. Giving him praise, touching him in all the right places, putting on a show for him. With a few final thrusts, he groans, whispering something you don’t catch, but you feel it. Him coming inside you with a sexy groan, covering your chest in the sloppiest of kisses and bites.

Catching his breath, he whispers breathlessly, “Damn. That was good.” Sliding out of you, an awkwardness catches up with the two of you. You push yourself up on your elbows, attempting to gather your thoughts. His eyes are still dark with desire as he looks at you with a satisfied smirk.

“Listen,” you say, covering your chest with your blanket. “This can’t happen again.” His smile drops.

“What?”

“The fact that we did that,” you gesture between the two of you, “never leaves this tent, you hear me?” Cocking his head to the side, he nods awkwardly. “No one can find out about this. God, I’d be so embarrassed. Let’s just…get some sleep.”

Did you forget about what he said?

Or I’ll never let you fuck my like this again. Using that as a threat if he didn’t let you come meant you wanted to do it again, no? Slowly putting on his boxers again, he agrees, turning away from you to try and get some sleep but, all of a sudden, there’s too much on his mind.

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