#I AM CAGED LIKE AN ANIMAL BECAUSE OF COLLEGE AND I BARELY HAVE TIME TO ANSWER ASKS LET ALONE DRAW MY POOKIE

[mothinabottle]

Imagine. Imagine a new ritual in-game where the temple tries to convert a demon PC back to a normal human again. Like some type of shit involving a high rank temple member cumming inside PC 7 times (Because 7 is the holy number supposedly? Jajsjajsja)—Preferably Jordan

Spoiler: It doesn't fucking work. This is just an excuse to have porn with plot, ok??? I am at my wit's end cuz I haven't been able to draw Jordan in a GOOD while and I just need them???

I NEED YURI SEX, YAOI SEX, WHATEVER THE FUCK IS AVAILABLE WITH JORDAN 😭

[crystalkitty1220]

Monthly-ish check-in

Aka more of a diary entry than a blog post

Gonna disappear again for a bit after posting this

Decided to major in animation because ever since losing all of my confidence when it comes to writing creatively in Creative Writing class, my focus has been moved entirely to storyboards and scripts. Storytelling is still my passion but clearly I'm not very good with words, and tbh the only reason I had ever really been confident in my writing is because I'm good with grammar. I feel like my storyboards/scripts are pretty good and capture the exact energy I've never really been able to get across in my writing, but actual animation capabilities are still yet to be seen because I can barely fucking draw in the first place. Gonna also experiment with 3D modeling in college, because who knows, maybe I'm better if I can see my work from multiple angles at a time.

Maybe I'll host a MAP at some point when I fully come back to tumblr. If I do, it'll probably be centered around Traffic Life. Or maybe IBVS if there's enough people.

Fandom-wise, I somehow managed to get Echos obsessed with Traffic Life by showing them some episodes of Secret Life (specfically Tango's Torchy one). Then we watched Empires together, and now Echos is watching season 10 of Hermitcraft with me (Grian, Scar, and Joel's povs, though without them I've also been watching Mumbo, Bdubs, occasionally Zed, and now Doc. Before season 10 I only watched Grian, Scar, and Bdubs). I've even started working on a little something centered around Jimmy and the Canary Curse. Also add Xornoth to the list of even remotely evil-aligned characters that I thought were dudes at first and find out they're nonbinary/genderfluid/genderqueer after I start crushing on them. This is the, what, fifth time? At this point if I get a crush on a character I should just immediately start calling them by they/them. Specifically the Empires the Musical one btw, not the one that's just Smajor with a voice filter.

Still been having major nostalgia for Feral ever since downloading Emuferal. Got Krita to paint something based on it but I don't know when I'll post that. Wrote around three complete animatic scripts featuring the Blood Tundra kobolds. Three is actually a very small number compared to the amount I normally write per fandom. (Then again, I've only got around 2-ish for IBVS. That's probably because I like to focus on symbolism for my animation scripts, and the only consistent symbolism I can think of for IBVS is with Isaac and birds. He's been drawn in a bird cage, which is very much known to symbolize being trapped or lacking some kind of freedom. In another bit of art he's been drawn with wings, showing the achievement of freedom. Freedom from what? Hell if I know. Possibly unrelated to the bird stuff, in another bit of art, Isaac is seen holding Drew's hand. Drew has a confused, upset expression, and Isaac's expression is unreadable as always but I interpret it as being rather solemn. Isaac's feet are, notably, not on the fucking ground. He's drifting away, and Drew's trying to hold onto him. This could symbolize Isaac shutting down emotionally/socially and Drew trying to help. Or, if this connects to the freedom symbolism, Isaac might fucking die by the end of IBVS. It's probably the first one. I am eating this shit up I fucking adore symbolism.)

Speaking of IBVS, I've been reworking Curse!IBVS. The version I posted about in the past was basically the second version of Curse (I never posted anything about the first) so this one would be version three. Isaac's going back to being much more like version 1 because I decided I'm not a huge fan of the second one for multiple reasons. Due to Drew having healing powers, he and Nevin are also getting reworked - I even wrote a little snippet surrounding them just to get the vibes right, but I don't think I'll ever post it. Edward's curse is basically staying the same, but the way he handles it is being changed so he can work as a sort of foil to Nevin. I'm still trying to figure out how to turn Dez's power into a curse without making it too similar to Nevin's or Edward's. And I'm thinking Chris and Charlie can be more similar to normal IBVS, and then I can use Chris as a sort of anchor to introduce everything else. Also my brain keeps showing my this huge dramatic climax scene but unfortunately I think it's a little too out-of-character and I have no clue how it'd even get to that point.

Got the fourth Animorphs graphic novel. The whale thing is still super weird. Ax looks nothing like I imagine him. Not much more to say on that.

Started playing Royale High more regularly but it's a bit depressing because I've been playing since it was Winx Fairies and Mermaids Roleplay and now it's just Work a Job to Buy Useless Items and Invest in the Stock Market Simulator. Idk the musical chairs minigame is pretty fun.

Warrior Cats animations continue to be my main inspiration for basically everything I've ever drawn. I could write about them for hours but it's already 1am so I probably shouldn't. Oh and the new arc is pretty good if you cut out everything that isn't Frostpaw. Might be my new favorite pov character.

Really disappointed Camp Camp ended on ep 4 of the new season because literally episode 5 is always either a Jasper episode or my favorite episode Quartermoon Convergence. I can't believe my favorite character is now bald forever and my second favorite character hasn't been mentioned since season 3. On the plus side I have a whole separate document from my main script one just for Camp Camp animatic scripts because I've written so many of them. I don't know what I have more of, UTMV scripts or Camp Camp ones.

For years, crossovers have for some reason been my brain's main focus. Probably because the first ever fanfic I read was Morphing is Magic, and that shit was fire. So here's a few of the odd ones that have found their way into my thoughts:

•Yet another variation of an Animorphs and IBVS crossover.

•"The Othermind from WoF can affect people who ingest the Breath of Evil, and Nightmare's goo can break down and absorb anything, so could he be affected by the Othermind if he was stabbed one of the vines? Would it not count because he doesn't have a bloodstream?"

•IBVS constantly haunts my brain so that last one turned into the IBVS characters being dropped into the WoF world (as humans, mind you) but Drew and Nevin are in Pantala while the rest end up in Pyhrria.

•Similarly (while I was reading the new Warriors arc), the IBVS being dropped into the lake territory (this time catified) and all into different clans.

•Speaking of catification, I found this shit (below) in my ibis paint drafts, and immediately screenshotted it to send to Echos.

I don't remember how or why I drew Drew's hair like that. I don't know why Dez would be trying to catboyify Drew, or why using the wrong materials would get him possessed by Ende from Feral. But by god, the thing that caught me off-guard most is the words "Is this what I get for saving your life? Catboyfication?" and I don't think I could write something funnier if I tried. Of course my brain immediately began to run with this, resulting in this blurb of text later being sent to Echos:

Me: it's four in the fucking morning, *stop* thinking of dumbass crossovers, they don't even make any fucking sense / My brain: monika said she had some of rachel's memories when possessing her. What if, when ende possesses drew, she's led back to his home and immediately feels like this place is a sanctuary - a safe place after being in danger for so long - something that drew has managed to find but ende still longs for. When she walks inside and sees nevin, she gets really emotional and can't stop herself from hugging him, then has to come up with the excuse that she (still pretending to be drew) didn't realized how much she missed him, then makes a fake promise to explain what happened in the morning. When she's by herself in drew's room she silently swears to drew - despite the fact she can feel he's falling into some kind of 'sleep', one that she can only recognize because she herself has been in an absent 'sleep' like that for so long - that she'll do everything she can to make sure they can both be free in this place. And when she goes to bed, she experiences drew's memory dream, and ende can relate to the feeling of having an important memory be kept from her. / And then the arms around her feel like they're turning into wings, and when she opens her eyes (though still dreaming) she sees luka. And ende demands to know why, if she's supposed to forget everything, can't they let her move on? A blizzard rages on in the background. She tries to pull away from luka's arms, but they still feel like wings encasing her - trying to keep a member of the flock safe, but only trapping her there - or like those of the watcher's. Again, she demands why they can't just let her go. Luka keeps their signature empty smile, but their eyes are not their own, boring down into ende like those of an all-too familiar statue. And then she wakes up, and she makes a second promise to the boy who can't even hear her: she's going to help him remember. / Me: stfu its sleep time. honk shoo. honk mimimimi. go to fucking bed.

Echos' reply was: "Ooo".

•Hermes from Empires SMP using the Staff of Sanctuary for Multiverse Shenanigans™

•Multiple concepts of villains from different media being thrown into Gotham City, and how they'd fare against Batman. I blame Echos and the other one for being obsessed with the Batfam and talking about DC constantly.

•Doodles of Empires!Smajor, Celestia from MLP, Dream from Dreamtale, and Sun from FNaF interacting in "my sibling got corrupted by an outside force and turned evil" club™. At some point I threw DogDay in there just for the hell of it even though he doesn't fit the criteria whatsoever. One of the doodles is just Scott, confused, with a thought bubble containing a cartoony sun symbol. (Wait, does Jake from Animorphs count? Can't believe I missed that.)

•Some other IBVS ones idk it's just constantly in my head

Also been reconnecting with some irl friends I hadn't spoken to since the Women List Dude incident. First time hanging out at a friend's house for as long as I can remember, and you best believe one of my rambles led from Spiderverse to Undertale AUs to Kirby Takes Manhattan to the origins of the ship Fingers In His Ass Sunday. Also got to learn a bit more about Women List Dude, whom none of them even knew I had experience with, and vice versa. To quote one of my friends, "Every time I talk to someone new about him, the story grows." Apparently he was fucking infamous in our school, and not even just in our grade. Istg he's practically an urban legend. "Oh, [Woman List Dude]? Yeah, I've got some stories about him..." *crackling of a campfire, the smell of smores.* Except there's concrete evidence and multiple witnesses to every account. It's honestly hilarious.

Uhh I think that's basically about it for this update. It's now 4am and I just finished rereading everything, so I'm gonna hit post and then not check tumblr again for like another month.

[bukojuiice]

— genshin boys as your college roommates who are head over heels in love with you

ೃ ft. childe, diluc, kaeya, zhongli, and xiao x gn! reader

ೃ 400-600 words per character!  ♡

ೃ warnings: mention of alcohol drinking ( but aside from that, just lots and lots of fluff!)

ೃ this is my very first writing contribution to the genshin fandom, so i hope everyone likes it!  after 5 months of playing genshin, i think it’s safe to say my brainrot for it has finally consumed me and i’m confident enough to brew something up! <3

ೃ genshin impact masterlist 

ೃ if you want to be a part of my taglist, answer this form! ♡

CHILDE:

– You and Childe are the perfect embodiment of the best friends to roommates trope. Whenever you wanna sleep in for 5 minutes more and you’re about to run late for your first class, Childe never fails to slowly drag you out of your bed, laughing as he does so. “Wake up sunshine!” is the first thing you always hear in the morning and you don’t complain if you get to hear his smexy voice anyway. He is a confident flirt and is not afraid to show you how much he cares or how much he pines over you. 

–  He’s always always there to save the day. There was a time when your classmates stood you up on the group project you were making, and guess who comes up to you with glitter, glue, and colored paper? Childe, of course! He stayed up until the wee hours of the night with you just so he can help you finish it. He even promises to set things in a “very civil way” with your absolute jerk groupmates the very next day. You practically hang out with him 24/7 as most of the time he just barges in your shared apartment with some amusement park tickets on hand or to some expensive yoga or judo class. There’s never a dull moment with him and with each passing day, the more you fall harder for him.

–  After a morning jog with him and seeing cute little dogs frolicking around with their married owners, Childe suddenly had the urge to adopt a dog with you.  But, due to a no pets rules established by the landlord, the two of you opt to owning hamsters instead! Childe named his hamster, narwhal (after his favorite animal of course!) whereas you named yours bunny, to match his irrelevant pet name picking. your hamsters both share the same house/cage and even they are pining over each other.

  –  His siblings visit a lot, especially Teucer. At this point, there was never a day the little boy didn’t ask when are you and Childe going to finally become “playground playmates” (a term for lovers that they use in second grade apparently) since the two of you are living with each other and seem so close. Childe is always able to successfully change the topic and shift away from talking about the shared feelings that the both of you have for each other. But, alas, the day had finally came to be and during your monthly trip to the amusement park, Childe confidently confesses to you on top of the ferris wheel.

“So... everyone in my life knows that you’re my best friend. Yea, that’s pretty cool and all but... Can we be more than just that (Y/N)? Is there hope if I think there could be something between us?”

DILUC:

– Diluc is your posh and rich roommate who sounds and looks too good to be true. The fact that you’re roomies with the literal heir to the country’s biggest wine and beverage company sounds like something straight out of a fanfic. But, it was of his volition to decide to live in a penthouse near Teyvat University. It was the doings of his step-brother Kaeya who tricked him into getting a roommate so that he won’t be alone for the rest of his college years... aaand that’s where you come in. practically barged into his life, but, you were a blessing. an angel sent from the skies.

–  He’s quite cold and unapproachable at first, only greeting you whenever he sees you but never bothered to engage in small talk with you. Even if the both of you go to the same university. It wasn’t until your second month as roommates, when you accidentally had too much to drink after a friends’ night out. You come home to see him in the living room, drinking grape juice from a wine glass, and watching a rerun of Hannah Montana. You practically collapse at the front door, he rushes to you and helps you up as you drunkenly confess to him in tears how you wanted to become much closer to him especially since the  two of you are going to spend the rest of your college years together. That was when Diluc realized how distant and aloof he’s been and vows to make it up to you.

– Diluc is very talented. Albeit in very discreet way, he makes sure to make use of his talents especially if it’s an opportunity to make memories with you. He is an amazing cook as much as he tries to deny it, He’s a secret virtuoso caught in 4k when you impulsively bought a guitar one time and you asked if he knows how to play, and he does so well. He practically serenades you in the most non-obvious way possible. Lastly, He’s very athletic. You invited him to play tennis one time, betting that if he won, you would do his bidding for the rest of the week. Before you could even blink, he wins. His “punishment” for you was that you accompany him in binge-watching TV Dramas. Grey’s Anatomy and Downtown Abby are just some of the shows the two of you would watch. It is absolutely adorable seeing him so invested in these dramas. and since the next on Diluc’s list were sit-coms, you were preparing yourself to answer his questions on the context of jokes that he didn’t get. In a poor attempt to flirt with you, he calls out your name and recites in the most Joey Tribbiani voice he could muster, “How you doin?” You were laughing so so hard that night because his pick up line actually worked on you and suddenly your realizations came full circle: you were very much in love with him too.

–  His naturally cool yet shy nature had always gotten the best of him.  He’s always wanted to ask if you wanted to carpool with him to school. Riding with him in his Tesla sportscar that goes 150 Mph? Heck yeah. However, it took quite a while before he could muster up the courage to ask you (4 months of being roommates until he finally popped the question) Since then, the two of you go home to and from University whenever you had similar schedules. Ever since then, Diluc had began to soften. His cold and hard facade slowly melted. Asking if you could help tie his floofy red hair then he’d let you play with it and let you style it in different ways. He takes you out on café dates during lunch breaks and take you out to watch a movie after both of your late night lectures. Everyone in campus thinks the two of you are practically together at this point. All that was left was to bare your feelings with one another through a fumbling and awkward confession.

“Words cannot not suffice these feelings I’ve been harboring for you since the very beginning. I L-like you a lot. Do you feel the same way too?”

KAEYA:

- Everyone loves Kaeya. Your friends and family, The School Faculty, The owner of the Convenience Store from down the street, The old lady who lives next door, The little kids from down the hall, and even the angry brown poodles from the farthest apartment to your right absolutely loved him. it was hard to keep up with having a roommate that not only were you crushing so hard on, but also had such a vibrant social life. Kaeya interacts and socializes with a lot of people and he admits that it does tend to get tiring at times. But, if these sacrifices lead to coming home to his cute roommate who has captivated his heart since Day 1, then it’s all worth it.

— Despite how warm and friendly he may seem, Kaeya is a very private person. He’s brought two or three friends like Jean, Lisa, Albedo, or Rosaria. But, only to discuss school affairs. He wasn’t the kind of person who trusts others easily, even if he was giving off the impression that he was a trustworthy and reliable person himself. He’d much rather spend time with you on days off from school. He may be a party guy on the outside (he insists he does it for future connections when he graduates) but he’s quite a homebody. Kaeya is the type to watch korean dramas and anime with you, go on late night convenience store cravings, and these always resulted in a perfect evening spent with him. When the both of you are fully immersed into the anime and things get a bit cozy, you rest your head on his shoulder, huddling for warmth.

— Kaeya would always come home with a little something for you. May it be take-out food, A trinket, a board game, an accessory, and even skincare products. The indigo-haired man is very particular about self-care and you bet that he’s bought different kinds of face masks, ointments, and even matching cute headbands just for the two of you! He’s very flamboyant and flirts with you a lot. Trying to impress you with pick up lines and suggestive jokes, but you always thought that he was just joking around because that was always a part of his personality. It was always a part of him. For Kaeya on the other hand, it seems to him that you don’t take him seriously and it's possible that you don’t return his feelings at all. He had to set things straight and it didn’t take long until Kaeya found the perfect opportunity to do so.

— With the help of practically everyone in the apartment, Kaeya is about to surprise you with a candle-lit dinner up on the apartment rooftop. His sly smooth-talking quickly convinced you that the both of you were just going to go out on your nightly convenience store trips. Your curiosity grows when he takes you by the hand, covering you with a blindfold, and whispering to your ear, “Do you trust me?” Gripping onto his hand tightly, the both of you go up some stairs and you reply, “Yes Kaeya, I do.” He slowly uncovers the shield from your eyes and your eyes sparkle at the sight of the candle-lit dinner, complete with jazz music, and a romantic view of the city.

“(Y/N)... You are the most precious person to me. I hope you can take me seriously, especially my feelings. I am saying this with my heart in my hand and with nothing but genuine love in my soul.”

ZHONGLI:

— Zhongli is truly husband material. You’re saying this as his friend, as his roommate, and as someone who’s absolutely smitten over him. He’s a third year environmental archaeology student at Teyvat University. Gentle, kind, and has nothing but wise and intelligent things to say. your lovestruck self can’t help but just admire him from afar, not knowing that he too has been entranced by you ever since you moved in.

—He's always the first to wake up in the morning. The first thing he does is make you a cup of coffee. He's got your favorite memorized, (Coffee with cream. Not to sweet and not too bitter.) The both of you own matching mugs, (written in colored scribbled letters, “The Wise Roommate” for Zhongli and “The Cute Roommate” for you.) He always wants to spend his free mornings with you. Both of you have different schedules so you never see each other at Campus and this was the only blissful time of the day you can spend with one another. Once you get home for dinner, (Zhongli is always the first to get home if he doesn’t stay too long at the library or strolling around the city) If it’s your turn to cook or if it’s his, he never forgets to brew you oolong tea after dinner. A perfect chance for the two of you to just talk the night away and engage in deep and meaningful conversations.

—Zhongli fell in love with you because you just quietly listen to him. Sometimes, you would share your thoughts and insights, even sharing your own personal knowledge that Zhongli had not known prior. You were one of the very few people in his life whom he could talk about absolutely anything with. Well, who wouldn’t listen to a handsome man who has a voice as smooth as butter? He is very passionate about his studies. Taking a lot of extra courses and spending a lot of money on his research. and so, most of the time, he spends all of his Mora on his extra studies (excluding the money he needs to pay for rent) and other interesting antiques. You understood why though. So, instead, you ask him to accompany you to do mundane chores. Going grocery shopping, doing the laundry and cleaning the apartment. He always helps in any way he can. The prying eyes of people around you and the old lady fr next door boldly coming up to you to ask if you and Zhongli were a married couple. You blush profusely whereas Zhongli coolly denies the woman's claims. It hurt quite a little but who were you to complain?

— It was during one of your night strolls with Zhongli. He had invited you out after dinner under the guise of wanting to have some fresh air and find a clear spot for the fireworks from a nearby festival. Your heart was thumping loudly to a non-existent rhythm, blissfully unaware that Zhongli was feeling a burst in his chest too. He clears his throat and his shoulders straighten. Zhongli puts his hand on your shoulder and breathes deeply. His cool and gentlemanly aura still radiating off of him as always. A wonderful array of colors fill the sky as his lips began to form the words he's always wanted to say:

"Tonight is beautiful isn't it? I thought that this would be the perfect time to open my heart up to you... You are a diamond in the rough that few see the beauty of. My beloved– Will you accept my feelings?

XIAO:

—  Having a popular twitch streamer as your roommate was a one in a million chance. Especially if you’re not even an influencer or internet figure yourself. But, how did this come to be? Why have you developed a crush on Xiao aka VigilantYaksha without knowing who he was? A gamer with over 6 million followers on different social media platforms? Simple, a high-end apartment near Teyvat University had a special discount if you were willing to be roommates with someone. It’s an amazing deal, near your school, cost-efficient, and you believed the 10% chance of scoring a hot roommate as seen on reality TV and romantic comedies. It was like rolling through a Gacha Game and getting a 5 star character. As that “character” is soon to be revealed as Xiao.

— Things started off rocky at first. On your first day, he flatly welcomed you by the door, introduced himself, then quickly retreated back to his room. As soon as you locked eyes with him, he gave off a certain cold and unfriendly aura. You wanted to get to know him better. Maybe with a little love and care, he could open up to you and you could become friends! That same day, you had mistakenly thought of your room as his and you walked in on him streaming a horror game. He wasn’t spooked by the jumpscares. But instead, he was looking at you in horror because you’ve just exposed yourself to thousands of people. You wave at the camera, apologize, and left. Since then, his fans, (called the Anemo Tofus) have been shipping the two of you together. Creating fanfiction and fanart of Xiao and the mysterious roommate that accidentally walked in on him. They practically begged Xiao to at least talk a little bit about you, to which, he declined. When you surprised him with dinner (as a little treat since this was your first week with him) He sits across the table from you, his eyes gazing deep into yours, as he pops the question, in a very tsundere tone: “Would you like to appear in my streams? T-the Anemo Tofus wanna learn more about you. B-but, if you don’t want to, it’s alright! You don’t have to-” You cut him off before he could continue his doubts, “Xiao! What are you saying? I’d love to!”

  —  There was something blossoming between the two of you after that particular dinner with him. Starting with your first “roommate video” that you had thought of when you were brainstorming for video ideas. It was an Almond and Mapo Tofu mukbang whilst the two of you answered questions from fans! The viewers noticed how visibly comfortable he was around you despite his usual reserved attitude. He was cracking up a lot more sarcastic and self-deprecating jokes whilst Tofu filled both of your mouths. Outside of the confines of social media and inside the comfortable space that was your apartment, you and Xiao grew closer. Wearing matching hoodies, going on midnight snack runs, playing in arcades, and stargazing with him up on the rooftop as you contemplate about life and talk about the mysteries of the universe. There were times when you would stay up late doing school works and would accidentally fall asleep on the sofa. Xiao would come out of room because he periodically had cases of insomnia. When he sees you on the sofa, he can’t help but smile at your sleeping figure and admire your beauty. First. he brings all your clutter back to your room then slowly picks you up from the couch, into his arms, and brings you back to your room. He places a blanket on top of you and your stuffed plushies next to you so you can hug them any time. 

— On a particular night, you fell asleep on the sofa once again and begun to  have recurring nightmares. Xiao was there to witness you whimpering, muttering to yourself, and shivering to a mental image that he could not see. (He wishes he could erase all the pain that these nightmares were giving you) You subconsciously grab onto his hand, murmuring to yourself: “Xiao, please don’t go.” He whispers back, “I won’t.” Your nerves slowly relax when you feel the Yaksha squeezing himself to lie next to you on the couch. Holding onto your arm, he continues to reassure you that it was going to be okay. You grab onto him, hugging him from behind. He feels your heartbeat revert back to it’s normal pace and you return back to your peaceful slumber. “I’ll always be here for you, (Y/N). I’ll be here to protect you. Forever and always.”  Turning to you to plant a kiss on your forehead, you nestle your head on Xiao’s chest. He watches as you cling to him for love and warmth until he is slowly whisked away by his weariness, rewarded with a peaceful sleep he hasn’t felt in a while.

“And they were roommates.”

[theramseyloft]

I revere pigeons. Their care and history is my special interest and they occupy my mind almost all the time. The knowledge that someone is deliberately hurting and neglecting ones they've stolen from caring, safer environments and people that were concerned for their wellbeing has me crying. Imagine being so empty as a person, to go so far as to injure a pigeon for imaginary internet points and attention.

I have been trying to work up the energy to write a post about this for weeks.

Christmas eve of 2018, my business page was contacted by some one looking for birds. 

In January 2019, he let slip that he was a minor, and that his parents were adamantly opposed to him having birds.

Minors whose parents are not fully supportive of their choice of pet are a hard no in my screening process. He kept asking questions as if preparing to care for birds he expected me to sell or adopt to him, and every time, I would ask to speak to his legal guardian. He did everything he could, from telling me his mom would call me later, to eventually calling my personal phone in the middle of the night to try and coerce me into sneaking him birds under the cover of darkness. I got to the point where I would only answer his questions about available birds with "Have your legal guardian ask me." About this time, Palomacy's head, Elizabeth, came to me privately to warn me not to adopt to him. I know she thinks breeders will do anything for a sale, but my screening process for babies I have hatched is every bit as strict as my screening process for rescues. I told her I had no plans to. But confessed that I’d had a troubled history of using rescue as a coping mechanism for an abusive home situation when I was in college, and felt obligated to mentor him. I was also taken in by the charming 'enthusiastic teen who really wants to learn' facade that he's so artfully developed. So, when he used a different name to get into the Small Scale Rescue and House Pet/Therapy pigeon discord servers, and let slip who he was by accident, I was content to let him stay, hoping that the information we share would help him develop into a better care taker. But more and more red flags started popping up.

One pigeon’s bare neck, claimed to have been a wonky molt, but inflamed and bristling with filoplumes (The avian equivalent of whiskers;thin hair like feathers that also fall out during that heavy a molt)

The same bird claimed to have eaten playdough and thrown it up, in a photo with a cage full of green, moldy poop. (Where did the bird get playdough? Why was it allowed to get far enough to swallow it?)

The same bird claimed to have coins and chunks of carrot pulled out of his crop (things a pigeon can’t physically swallow unaided)

In every progressive photo, the feathers are thinner and more bedraggled and the bird himself was losing weight.

That pigeon mysteriously vanished, only got him to get two more, and mention nonchallantly after the fact that “Oh, puff died last week.”

His new pet pigeons, who supposedly lived in their own room in his house, got out while he was moving a couch.

He got, and promptly lost two other rescue birds from the rescue I posted about late in the summer that was shut down by her city and urgently needed homes for their birds.

When told Great Lakes Pigeon Rescue was going to be warned about adopting to him, this is what he posted on my education server:

He had his eye on a bird of mine (Frito), talking him down like he was undesirable or unadoptable, and reasoning that I’d have a hard time finding a home for him because of his bad personality.

Frito washed from therapy training due to INTENSE dislike of his harness.

That, and that he had developed a strong independent streak and prefered the company of other birds to people were the first things I told Brysen when he asked after that specific bird.

In one channel of the server, he would be talking to me about how he didn’t mind Frito just being a pretty house bird and would be ok if he never warmed up to being handled...

While, in another, he would be posting harnesses, asking if they would work for Frito, and asking other residents how to make an independent bird get used to being handled.

When I called him on it, he came into my DMs with this mess:

(The turn around in tone in the 12 hours I was too angry to respond is almost funny..)

Remember that rescue from earlier?

These are screenshots of her conversation with him (used with permission) about the birds that were lost, sent to the person in charge of Palomacy, where he was an active member on their platform at the time, to warn that he was preying on rescues to get more birds:

This conversation clearly illustrates that he was using us and Palomacy only to adapt the way he preys on rescues.

There is a reason he preys on rescues. We are hopeful for people to improve. So he expects infinite chances from us. And he expects that a correctly worded apology will erase any consequences. He preys on pigeons because there are no laws in the US concerning their welfare. Despite being domestic animals (the pigeons brought by Europeans to North America had been domesticated for thousands of years, and there were no natives of the same species or even in the Columba genus to mix back with); Pigeons are under the jurisdiction of the Department of Natural Resources, which governs wildlife, and legally classifies them as an invasive pest. The Department of Agriculture is the one that presides over domestic animals and investigates animal cruelty. They may only act for the welfare of pigeons under the specific circumstance of the pigeons in question being meat breeds bred for squab intended for human consumption via restaurants. In any other instance, killing a pigeon by any means, including torture, is legally equivalent to pest control. There are no legal consequences for it.

After I blocked and banned him, it came to light through several sources in personal contact with him that he maimed, killed, and discarded 25 birds that we know of, and he is still trying to get more.

Several people who denied him birds shared screen shots with us proving that they were also sexually harassed and threatened with sexual violence by him.

Several of the people who came to us told us that they had also tried to warn Palomacy, but their comments were immediately erased.

Brysen was allowed to continue to speak openly on their platform with no consequences, allowing him to truthfully say that he was being mentored by Palomacy to lull smaller rescues into a false sense of security and convince them to give him birds.

They had two articles on their website about what a wonderful young rescuer he was, only taken down after they tried to claim I had doxxed an innocent child, and it was pointed out to them that their public articles had his full current address, date and place of birth, and a photo of him in front of his house. I had beef enough with the organization before this that I will not go into on this post, but I am disgusted by the way Elizabeth silenced her own admins and community members from warning other rescues and individuals and tried to shut the rescue up who sent the above screen shots when she came forward about the birds he tricked her into bringing to Ga who were immediately killed. And then blamed her for their deaths. @tutu.pigeon brought me those screen shots the day after I banned him and one of my server mods took it upon themself to be a voice for his other victims by creating the Instagram @exposing_helluva_duv What ever respect I might have had for Palomacy is permanently destroyed.

You cannot call yourself a rescue if you cover for a serial abuser, actively prevent his victims from warning the rest of their community, and then blame those victims for having been taken advantage of.

The harm that that, combined with everything else I have beef with, has done so out weighs any good that I can no longer, in good conscience, attempt to put aside our differences and meet in the middle.

I’m not gonna waste the energy to start any shit, and I don’t think any one else should either. 

But I’m done trying to be any degree of supportive to them.

Gonna put my energy into encouraging more small shelters so there are better options.

[collecting-stories]

Birthday - c. 13 - Georgia

Summary: Just a whole lot of feelings.

A/N: Sorry I didn’t post when I said I was going to, thank you guys for your patience though! Also, if you haven’t seen it, there’s a link on my page to help raise money for a friend of mine to get bottom surgery, if you wouldn’t mind taking a look and considering donating or reblogging to get out the word. 

Georgia Masterlist | The Walking Dead Masterlist

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

“Not who I expected to see waiting outside the pharmacy for me but, I’ll take it.” Tara called out as she walked across the small parking lot to her car. Parked right next to her four-door was Daryl’s truck and he was standing there waiting, leaning against the tailgate.  

“I haven’t heard from her in a couple days, just wanted to be sure she’s alright.” Daryl replied.  

“You mean after you told her you didn’t want to date her?” Tara asked, crossing her arms over her chest.  

“Ain’t that simple.”  

Tara groaned, already exhausted with both of you. “It is that simple, she really likes you and come on, I know you like her. You fucking stopped at the drug store to talk to me because you’re concerned about her. That’s pretty solid proof that you like her too.”  

Daryl looked away, scuffing his foot on the ground and taking his pack of cigarettes out to smoke, he needed something distract himself.  

“Can I have one?” Tara asked, already holding out her hand for one of his cigarettes. Her sister would probably kill her if she knew but Tara smoked occasionally, more recreational than anything else. “She’s staying at my house in Woodbury. Her dad’s supposed to be home soon, think she’s just waiting it out away from her mom.”  

“He any better?” Daryl asked lighting his and then holding the lighter for her cigarette. You’d be bitching about the smell no doubt, or pretending it didn’t bother you.  

“Not really,” Tara shrugged, “he doesn’t hit her or anything but he’s pretty dependent on her mom. I mean, the guy’s been in and out of rehab for years now, he can barely hold a steady job. Last time he was in the hospital he was on suicide watch cause he’s so miserable. Why are you asking me all this anyway? Why not ask Maggie?”

“Some friends ya don’t tell everything to.” He replied. “Ya let me know how she’s doing?”  

“Go to the diner and make up and see her yourself.”

“I already told her, she’s got enough shit going on, don’t need me adding to it.” Daryl replied.  

“Before you go,” Tara stopped him as he started to walk around to the driver’s side of the truck. “Just tell me, do you like her? Would you date her?”

He nodded, slowly. Not like he was unsure, just like he was trying to censor his answer. He settled on “yeah” because anything else would have been too much to tell kid. He would date you, hell, he was pretty sure that he would marry you if he was given the chance. He’d never thought much about liking anyone before. Daryl had seen Merle with different women his whole life but he’d never really bothered appreciating any of his own. People just came and went and he figured that was exactly how life would always be. And now there was you and he wouldn’t mind setting up a future, he’d already laid one out in his head. A nice one, like all the upstanding people in King County, the ones who whispered about him, had. There’d be a house, or a farm like Hershel’s, and kids if you wanted them though he’d never thought of himself as needing to bring any children into the world. It’d be nice though and you’d both be happy.  

“Don’t tell her I stopped by?” Daryl asked.  

“I won’t.” Tara replied, “think about it though? Cause she was happy with you and she was standing up for herself and she never used to. I don’t want her to lose that.”  

Daryl shut the door on the truck and Tara backed away as he started the engine, reversing and then peeling out of the parking lot. She took another drag of the cigarette and dropped it on the ground, smashing it into the white line with her shoe.  

You were working at the diner that afternoon and when you saw Daryl’s truck pull into Dale’s Autobody across the street you considered taking a ten minute break just to go talk to him. If you could figure out what was going on between the two of you, or even just apologize for what you said in the grocery store. You would’ve killed for a time machine that night, imagining the possibility of rewinding yourself back to the moment before you told him, of being able to pretend you didn’t feel the way you were feeling.  

If you could’ve done it over again you wouldn’t have said anything. Kept quiet until, and you hoped there was a possibility, he liked you so much that he couldn’t possibly reject you. And yet, you knew it was pointless to think that way. Standing in the parking lot with him, you had known that the only thing you wanted in that moment was him.  

-

Maggie sat on the top rung of the wooden fence with you, lanterns set out to illuminate the make shift camp site that she and Tara had put together for your birthday.  Glenn had come once it was dark enough that no one from the house would realize that he was there. You were usually wired, especially considering the amount of alcohol that Glenn and Tara had both brought with them. You had half a bottle of wine left, holding the nose in your hand as you sat there with Maggie, silently staring ahead to the porch light that looked more like a lightening bug at this distance.

“Glenn’s been talking about college,” Maggie finally said. Tara and Glenn had both punched out early but you and Maggie couldn’t seem to fall asleep. Or maybe she was just sitting up with you to be nice. “It’ll be nice to get away from all this. Have you talked about it with your parents?”

“My mom says the college fund is,” you sliced your hand across the air, “gone. Guess it’s waiting tables for me.”

“Woodbury has a college, maybe you could go there?”

“It’s not Emory...” you replied. “I don’t know any more honestly. I just wanted to go to college cause I wanted to get out of here. Guess I still do.”  

You had thousands of dreams of college as a kid. Getting out of King County and never coming back. You could be one of those kids who moves to the city without leaving a forwarding address, who disappears from the average existence of small-town life. Breaking whatever mold, you had been born into. It always seemed like it would be you, Maggie had the farm and she complained about the church but you knew she loved it. But now she was talking about life outside of King County and it seemed insane to you that you would be the only one contemplating all the things in your life that you thought about changing. Maybe some of them could stay the same.  

“I told Daryl I liked him.” You said, “told him I was gonna be 18, we could date.”

“What’d he say?” Maggie asked, reaching for the wine bottle to take a sip.

“Same thing he’s been saying, that I shouldn’t ‘get dragged into his life’.”  

“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t like you.” Maggie sounded too hopeful for her own good. And why shouldn’t she? Even if she thought about leaving King County everything about her screamed small town. The high school sweetheart, the southern twang, the pastor’s daughter dichotomy. She hit all the marks.  

“Means he doesn’t want to.” You replied, taking the wine back.

“Well take it however you want but, maybe it’s a sign? You been getting too close to something dangerous. I love you and you know that but you were spending all your time with him, not going to church, not doing stuff with me or Glenn or going to youth group. Maybe it’s a good wake up call. Your mama wouldn’t want you tossing it all away for a boy. Especially not Daryl.” Maggie stated.  

You knew somewhere along the way you had given up trying to keep up appearances. You weren’t the sweet kid who had sat all through Thanksgiving and then snuck out at the end, something had changed and you had stopped caring if people knew who you were hanging out with. Deanna had only seen you because you’d gotten too reckless.  

“Guess so.” You said, hopping down off the fence. You had never told Maggie about your mom and you certainly couldn’t now. You weren’t even sure that she would believe you.  

“What?”  

“What?” You asked, eyes meeting hers in the dark.  

“You got that look, like you did before you dragged me to Dale’s.” Maggie said, watching the slow smile on your face as you bit your lip.  

“Just thinking.”

She was right though, and you knew it. Even as you climbed into the tent you were sharing with Tara, laying on your back as if you could see the stars through the vinyl, your head was swirling with any sort of idea you could grasp at. Maggie could say whatever about you and what you cared about but at the end of it you knew what you wanted. Her pep talk wasn’t going to deter you.  

-

In the morning you stopped at Dale’s, church bells ringing as you got out of your jeep. You were supposed to be meeting your mom for service but you had pit stopped here. Axel was out front working on a car and he waved when he saw you. Daryl wasn’t overly forthcoming with information about his life so it didn’t surprise you that he would’ve neglected to tell anyone about the night at the grocery store.  

He was in the back, maybe just finished with something cause he was wiping his hands on a rag from the back pocket of his coveralls and you weren’t quite ready for the ache in your chest at the sight of him. Your heals on the concrete weren’t quiet and Daryl looked over when he heard them, jaw tensing.  

“What’re ya doing here?” He asked.  

“I thought about what you said.” You replied, a little less confident than you had felt when you stepped out of your car. “And I’ve come to a decision.”

“Am I supposed ta ask what that is?”  

“Yes.” You moved closer, he wasn’t running but he looked a little reminiscent of a caged animal.

“I got work.”  

“Wait, just hear me out,” you begged. He started to say something, no doubt telling you to leave, but you stopped him, forging ahead. “I know I told you that I liked you when we were at the grocery store but it’s more than that. I love you. And I think you love me too. I’ve been thinking about leaving King County and getting away from my mom for a long time and lately I been thinking I don’t care. There’s still some things I want, ya know, but I can get ‘em right here and mostly, I just want to spend time with you.”

There was a lot Daryl wanted to tell you, that you were right. He did love you. “Ya don’t know what yer saying.”

“I do.”

“No,” Daryl snapped. “Ya don’t! There ain’t a future here for ya. Yer wasting yer time and one day, you’ll wake up and yer gonna realize that’s all ya been doing, wasting time, and yer gonna want out. Save yerself the trouble and just go.”  

“I’m not wasting my time.” You insisted.  

“I got work.”  

“No, Daryl,” you grabbed his arm, stopping him from turning and leaving.  

“I told ya before, I’ll say it again, there ain’t nothing here for ya.” He replied, pulling away from you.  

“Fine then tell me I’m wrong.” You said, “tell me you don’t love me and I’ve just been imagining it.”

“I got work.” He repeated, brushing passed you.  

You knew what you should’ve been feeling. Depressed, angry, absolutely gutted. All of those fit the bill but you couldn’t make yourself feel any of those. As you climbed back in your jeep, pulling out of the parking lot, all you could feel was the smallest, fleeting, sense of hope. He hadn’t said that he didn’t love you. Nothing he said suggested that he didn’t feel the same way. You’d been thinking that he just didn’t like you back but it wasn’t that at all. He was just afraid.  

You knew how you felt. And now, you knew how he felt too.  

-

taglist: @gigilame @sabertooth-potato @enrapturedbythemoon @thanossexual @yespleasejayhalstead @cbarter @onemorebeautifulnightmare @mainokutan @solllaris @twdeadfanfic @legit-emily  @hopesxxhigh @coffeebooksandfandom @jodiereedus22 @tehfabbooty @thecaptainsgingersnap @of-storms-and-sadness @alwaysadreamingoptimist @bucky-barnes-babies @ly--canthrope  @daryldixonandfrogs @jaycc7983 @easnuppa @imaginecrushes @tonystarkismyboy @watchmeaspire @harpersmariano @guccicloudz @sapphire-angel @buzzybhee @alexbealee @elodieyung @its-evita-here 

[ditttiii]

Finding Me Through You. || jjk ||

(Angst // comfort // romance // strangers to friends to lovers // a hybrid AU)

Summary:   You lose yourself to the feeling of having the man you love, kiss you and it feels like a homecoming. It feels like having the stars align perfectly, it feels like having your world tilt back on its axis. It feels like magic, joy—love.

OR

Jeon Jungkook. The campus heartthrob. Captain of the football team. High School Prom King. Teacher’s favourite. Student body favourite. Anyone, and everyone's favourite. This is the story of how you went from strangers to best friends to finally lovers and if in the way you somehow found yourself? well that was just a bonus.

Part One

Jeon Jungkook. The campus heartthrob. Captain of the football team. High School Prom King. Teacher’s favourite. Student boy favourite. Anyone, and everyone's favourite.

 Also your best friend. A shocker to many.

To an outsider, who hasn't seen you two together, it would be hard to believe that you were his best friend. You–the resident nerd, the geek, the shy white hybrid. But you were. You were the best of friends. 

You were both panther hybrids, but that didn't mean that you both had the same personalities. Far from it really, while you were painfully shy and non-confrontational, Jungkook was fierce and loud, the one who always stood up for what was right. The golden maknae–as he was affectionately referred to as, in his circle of friends. While your fur was white and spotless, your voice soft and mellow, his was a soft gold with bold black stripes running along the course of it, his voice loud and clear–unafraid of being heard. Wanting to be heard–demanding to be heard. 

The dichotomy between the two of you was as obvious to you as it was to everyone else. 

You remember the first time you noticed Jeon Jungkook. You really noticed him. Of course, you knew who he was before, he wasn't exactly subtle with him and his group of friends being the most popular guys in your college. But that was the first time you really saw him for who he actually was. 

You were working at the small cafe on your campus. It was a cosy little thing with students spending hours pouring all their energy into last-minute assignment submissions and consuming ridiculous amounts of caffeine. So, you were certainly surprised when the door to the cafe opened–the chime above it ringing softly and letting you know about the arrival of new customers, and you looked up only to lock eyes with Jeon freaking Jungkook.

Your breath got caught as he gave you a soft polite smile before one of his friends–Taehyung you think–pushed him forward and they moved further to the back of the cafe. 

You were soon away from the counter, walking towards his table to get his order. You knew any other girl in your shoes would have been jumping for joy–ecstatic to be talking to him and his friends. But you weren't any other girl because despite being a predator hybrid, your persona was mostly soft. Shy. You didn't want to come under anyone's radar just because you took his order. But your bills weren't going to pay themselves and you had student loans too, so you sucked it up and marched forward. 

Let's get this over and done with already. You thought and blew a raspberry, your overgrown bangs fluttering away before settling back on your cheek and tickling your skin softly.

There weren't many things that could surprise you anymore–the hands that fate had dealt you with already having taken their toll on you. But today you were surprised. You don't know why, but for some reason, you hadn't been expecting Jungkook and his posse of friends to be nice. But they were nice–beyond nice. They were friendly and polite–unflinchingly courteous. Hell, they even bowed to you, simply for serving them coffee. A mundane job on your part that you weren't doing out of any goodness of your heart, but solely because you were getting paid for doing it.

—CRASH—

You turn, as the sound of glass shattering reached your ears and almost as if on autopilot you moved towards it, praying that nobody had been hurt.

You get there and see a fox hybrid from one of your classes cursing and furiously trying to get the water off of his shirt with a tissue in his hand.

You look him over to see if he has any injuries and release a relieved sigh when you don't see any. You then rush back and grab one of your coworkers, asking them to look after the cash register as you go to the back to get a broom. 

You come back with your cleaning supplies and scoop the shattered glass away, mopping the floor dry after. Just as you were about to head back you hear someone holler, "WAITRESS!" 

You turn with furrowed brows and see the fox hybrid from earlier snapping his fingers in the air. 

Yes, you were a hybrid and part animal but you were also part human, and that sort of behaviour was demeaning to you. However, being the peace-keeper that you are, you say nothing and just silently walk towards him, voicing out a polite 'Yes?' once you reach beside his table. 

"I don't know what kind of shit you are trying to pull here but I am not falling for it. Why the fuck was I charged for the glass? That shit shattered and it could have hurt me!? And YOU are trying to make me pay for that shit?! Fuck you! I ain't paying for this shit." He yells as he stands up and takes a threatening step towards you, his hybrid instincts taking hold of him. 

You stumble back, at once terrified of the man in front of you. You wish your hybrid instincts would come through, hoping that the predator in you would somehow protect you. But your meekness wins and you stumble back even further, apologies pouring out of your mouth as you try to distance yourself from the fox hybrid. You were ready to pay the money out of–your own pocket if it meant not having to face his wrath. 

"Dude, Back OFF" you hear someone threaten, and suddenly your vision is filled with black—the black of Jeon Jungkooks back to be precise. His leather jacket shone softly under the warm lights of the cafe and you fix your eyes on it.

You try to distract yourself from the fact that the air around you was growing heavier by the second. Killing intent pouring out of their bodies, making it harder for you to breathe. 

You are the lamest panther hybrid ever,  You tell yourself. You couldn't even stand up for your own damn self! 

You are a disgrace to predators. Always the fucking damsel in distress, The mean voice inside your head continues, and you feel yourself shrink further into your shell. Tears pool into your eyes, as your cheeks colour with shame and embarrassment. 

"Y/N!" your eyes snap ahead, the tears slip down your cheeks and leave warm, wet trails behind. You hiccup and try to step away, to get away, to run.  

It's not like you are good for much else anyway, whispers the voice again. Watering the overgrown tree that has fertilised itself on your insecurities and fears— and you shudder. Your breaths start coming faster—shorter, and you start to feel light-headed. 

You feel a panic attack coming, but before you can think about it too much, you feel as someone wraps their arms around you. The arms thick,  strong and warm, pull you closer to a chest. The chest is even warmer and firmer under your cheek as you lay your head on it and try to get your breathing under control. You know who the chest belonged to, you know your tears were ruining the white tee under Jeon Jungkooks leather jacket. 

You can't even afford to dry clean it for him, your brain rationalises and you pull away because even amid an almost breakdown, you can't forget, just how tight on cash you were. But before you can pull back completely, the arms that were around you tighten and cage you in. Pulling you closer, and your nose hits his neck, before one of the arms snakes around to your head and starts patting your hair—softly, as if you were a child.

It's only then that you realise that you were still trembling like a leaf in a storm. Your breaths were still coming out more as shudders and the ache in your heart only worsens, as you realise how nice it feels to have someone hug you. 

He was still holding you, softly rocking you from side to side. Whispering reassurances softly, but ones that you could clearly hear with your hybrid hearing. You think you should, want to pull back, run away from him after all, he was a predator—a strong and extremely dangerous one at that. If he wanted to, he could snap your spine in half like a twig.

But even with the warnings ringing inside your head, you don't make a move to leave his embrace and just silently accept the affection—even if he was doing it only because he pitied you. You don’t care, you couldn't remember the last time someone had held you so tenderly, with so much care, as if you were a porcelain doll that could shatter with one wrong move. 

So you stop thinking, stop moving and just feel. Silently let Jeon Jungkook embrace you in his iron-clad strong arms. You close your eyes and pull yourself closer to him, barely a hair's breadth closer, too afraid to shatter the moment and assure yourself that he won't notice.

However Jungkook does, he holds his breath as he feels you move closer before a small smile slips onto his lips and he softly nuzzles your hair. Breathing your scent in, he tightens his arms and pulls you even closer.

Next: Part 2 

Soo this was originally going to be a drabble in response to this ask, but then I got carried away with building this imaginary world in my head and it turned into a Two-shot — which is honestly just SO me. I can never pace myself *smh*

I hope you enjoyed this, the next part is gonna be less angst-y and more warm and cuddly—so YAY! to that. 

If you liked this please drop a like and give me your feedback in the comments or well the ask box as always, is also open for anyone that would like to share their feedback in detail or just anonymously. I would be VERY happy if you re-blog too. 

I LOVE you so much for reading till the very end. If I could meet you and give you cookies-I would. But till then here’s a *virtual hug*

[wooyounghwa]

sleep schedule . kang yeosang

description: your roommate is having a loud party late at night. someone’s come to tell you to cut it out.

warnings: smut, oral (f receiving)

words: 3.5k

the music from your roommate’s speaker had been blasting through the walls of your dorm for the past few hours. it was around 2 am now, and you were sure the students next door would have been tired of it if they weren’t all in your dorm, some passed out on your bed, some on the floor, playing spin the bottle with your roommate, mina, and a few were standing by where you were, waiting for drinks.

you’d somehow become the ‘bartender’ of the party, even though it was mostly just them handing you containers and you mixing cheap alcohol with one of the random sodas that you’d bought at the 7/11 down the street earlier that night.

you didn’t expect anyone to snitch on your party, considering most of the hall were in your tiny dorm with you, but the walls were thin, as were the floors, and you did live on the 3rd story.

the knock from the door wouldn’t have been heard at all if you weren’t right next to it, considering the loud music that drowned out even words you’d tried to speak to the drunk college kids who you had been spending the evening with.

someone had to keep mina in check for the few hours the party was going on, so you weren’t as drunk as she was, but you would admit to having a few of the concoctions you’d made that people had walked away and forgot about.

you stumbled – just a little bit – to the door and opened it, meeting the face of your ra, who did not look happy at all. his blonde hair was sticking in all directions, it was so long now that it almost reached his jaw.

he was hot as fuck.

he literally looked like an anime character that had come to life, perfect big eyes and gorgeous sharp lips and cheekbones, and all the girls in your dorm constantly talked about him, which he fully knew about considering the girls drank often and they were not subtle at all.

unfortunately, yeosang was prudish about his private life with all of you, he barely talked to any of the girls in your dorm unless it was serious. you remember the one time you spoke to him outside of move-in day and the couple of times he’d texted you to keep it down, you’d asked him to bring you a pad because you were in the dorm’s bathroom and his room was practically next door.

you didn’t get to see his face when he eventually came and gave you one, considering he only stuck his hand with a pad in it into the door of the bathroom, but the next day seeing him on the staircase was a bit awkward.

think ‘half a second of eye contact and yeosang turning around and going back up the stairs’ awkward.

you blinked a few times before your eyes dropped to what he was wearing, a plain white t-shirt and black gym shorts that went to about mid-thigh.

he looked dangerous. even with no shoes on.

“i’ve been listening to your music for hours,” he was practically shouting because of the volume of it, “i decided to give you the benefit of the doubt and tell myself that you’d go to sleep after a while, i even texted you but nope!” his face was flat and his voice was tired, so you were guessing he wasn’t too mad.

..at least you know no one snitched.

“look-“your voice was too quiet for that.

you stepped out, accidentally getting a little too close to him in the process before he stepped back, but you closed the door behind you.

“mina was having a bad night and wanted to drink a little, i didn’t think everyone on the floor would wanna join in on our little party.” you tried your best to look sheepish, but yeosang was too tired to put up with it. “plus i wanna sleep too. i’m not a party drunk – i’m a sleepy one.”

yeosang winced and backed up a bit more.

“so that’s why your breath smells like that.”

you furrowed your brows and blew into your palm, smelling your breath before the door opened up behind you suddenly.

the music flooded out along with mina’s small frame, and she clung onto you before looking up at your gorgeous ra.

“yesnag- yeo- you know what i mean..” she pressed a finger to his chest. “you’re hot. y/n is hot. you and y/n should definitely fuck.”

yours and yeosang’s eyeballs practically fell out of your heads at her random statement.

you had to admit, it wasn’t like you’d never thought about it, and sometimes thought about him when you had the dorm to yourself when mina was gone for the weekend. but it wasn’t like that in reality, he was just a cute guy who was older than you and way more responsible, he’d never go for anyone like you.

“tell you what- if you take her to your dorm..” she slurred her words and slapped a hand on your face without looking at you, making you yelp, you shoved her hand away. “i’ll turn off the music and make everyone go home.”

“mina!! shut the fuck up- “you snapped at her.

“okay deal.”

you whipped your head in yeosang’s direction after the 2 simple words left his lips, and even mina looked surprised. “wait, really?”

“you didn’t say what the rules were for taking her to my dorm, i just wanna go to sleep. i have a class in the morning. i can sleep on my couch.”

you squinted at him before shoving drunk mina off completely.

“you have a couch? unfair..”

yeosang rolled his tired eyes at you and tilted his head to his dorm’s direction.

“so, are we doing this? come on, i’m crashing as soon as i step foot into my room.”

mina wiggled her eyebrows at you, and you glared at her, poking her chest and gesturing to your dorm room.

“go tell them to leave now. and turn the damn music off.”

“fine, fine!!” she clumsily threw her hands in the air, something you had to dodge, and opened the door before stepping a foot inside. mina leaned back out to look at the two of you. “jus’ so you know.. if you come back tonight, i’m turning the music on full blast. jus’.. ya know.. a warning.”

you groaned and pushed her face inside the room, closing the door behind her. as soon as you did so, you heard her start to yell at your dorm neighbors, and you assumed she was gonna make the one - who could stand - clean up a little before they left.

the music then cut off suddenly, and the two of you were left standing in silence in the hallway.

yeosang turned his head to look at you, and you realized you’d never seen him up close like this before. his jawline was sharp as all hell, and you couldn’t see a single pore on his stupid perfect face.

“ready..?”

you didn’t know what you were ready for, but you were glad your headache was starting to fade now that she had cut the music off.

“i guess..”

yeosang started off first towards his room and you meekly followed behind him, hands crossed across your chest. now that you were thinking, the pair of you were wearing similar outfits, something you regretted now that you were here with the most gorgeous man you’d ever seen, but it was too late now.

he stopped in front of the door next to the bathroom, opening it after sticking in a key.

“you locked it when you were going out for.. like 2 seconds? really?”

yeosang sent a glare your way and stepped inside, letting the darkness envelop both of you when he shut the door.

you thought it was bad when you were in a silent, lit hallway with him, but now that the two of you were standing in a silent, dark room, your stomach churning, you were so nervous you could practically feel the sweat coming out of your skin.

“are- are you not gonna turn the light on?” you could barely see his outline after he moved across the room, and his deep voice split the silence after you spoke.

“i don’t see a point, we’re just gonna sleep anyway.”

“okay yeah, but i don’t know where anything is.” your words came out as a laugh at the end of the sentence, and yeosang’s silence told you that he was realizing he was an idiot.

you heard shuffling and then suddenly, warm hands were gripping your shoulders in the dark. your body jumped so hard you probably could have teleported to a different dimension, but yeosang laughed softly before patting your shoulder with one of his hands. the laugh was a soft, nice sound, and if you had been sober you probably wouldn’t have gotten so worked up about it, but you were tipsy, and the deep laugh sent chills down your body.

“let me lead you.” he started to walk with your shoulders in his hands, and you smiled to yourself since he couldn’t see you.

“don’t say things like that.”

yeosang snickered and you felt him squeeze you gently before backing you up onto his bed. the back of your knees hit the bed and you slowly lowered yourself to the mattress, letting one hand slide down yeosang’s arm, the other one reaching down toward his bed.

you had to admit though, the feeling of his muscular arm under your hand was very nice.

subconsciously as he started to walk away, you reached for him, and felt your hands brush against the seams of the side of his shorts. yeosang froze in place, and the tension in the dark room felt so thick now that you could cut it with a knife.

under your fingertips, you felt yeosang’s leg muscle flex a few times, like he was tensing up as he was thinking before he stepped toward you again. your cheeks flushed in the darkness and you yanked your hands toward your body.

“sorry.” your voice was small, and you opened your mouth to speak again when you felt yeosang’s large hand land on your jaw, fingertips first and softly so that he wouldn’t touch you too abruptly.

you held your breath when his fingers trailed from your jaw to the nape of your neck, pushing through the strands of your hair.

“yeosang..” testing to see what he would do, your hand reached out again towards his thigh in front of you. fingertips pressed against the hot skin just as he stepped forward once more, caging your legs in between his muscular ones.

“you know.. when mina said that..” you felt his other hand touch the opposite side of your face, rubbing over your cheek to the outline of your top lip, his fingertip barely brushed over it before you felt him breath softly on your face.

and now he was right in front of you. you felt like a deer in headlights. there was no way in fuck that kang yeosang was inches in front of your face right now. no way that you were sitting on his bed between his legs. “i haven’t stopped thinking about it since we left your dorm.” you swallowed when his breath ghosted over your lips.

“but, we don’t have to-“ he suddenly sounded unsure.

“i want to. you have no idea.”

he chuckled and got closer, brushing his lips against yours before pushing his head forward to close the distance, and you closed your eyes instantly when his lips touched yours. his lips were soft, moving slowly against yours for a few moments.

yeosang inhaled deeply through his nose before deepening the kiss quickly, pressing his nose against your cheek now that he kissed you open-mouthed, tongue swiping against yours, leaning against you enough so that you leaned back and fell against the bed.

he climbed on top of you, and you quickly moved your hands to his muscular legs, now letting your fingertips slide underneath the fabric of his shorts and feeling him tense under you. at your touch, yeosang lowered himself onto you, and you sighed at the weight of his body on top of you, subconsciously pressing your hips up toward him.

he hissed through his teeth once you did that, rolling his hips into yours in response.

you sighed against his lips and pulled on the band of his shorts, attempting to pull him closer. he got the hint and pushed one of your legs against your chest, pushing his hips into yours again, but at this angle you could feel his length through the thin material of both your pants better than before, it felt thick against your heat, and him stroking it between your bodies was driving you crazy.

slipping a hand down between you, your hand found his length and he groaned into your ear, making your whole body heat up. you palmed him through the gym shorts before your fingers found the band of his pants, slipping your hand into them and relishing the feeling of the hot, lean muscle of his stomach pressed against your wrist.

just a little further down and your grip found his length, you stroked it before swiping your thumb over the head, spreading his precum over the top.

“fuck- “he groaned into your ear, rolling his hips into your hand. yeosang quickly moved a hand down your body, from squeezing one of your breasts through your shirt, to ghosting over your pants and into your underwear. once his finger began to prod at your hole, you jerked, and he grinned in the darkness.

“sensitive?”

you pouted and gave his length a soft squeeze, before spitting into your hand and bringing it back down, stroking him better now that it wasn’t so dry.

yeosang reacted harshly, breathing shakily into your ear as his fingers tried to keep up with your hand which was wrapped around him. he paused repeatedly because of the pleasure you were giving him, his hand stuttering on its own while his fingers were inside of you.

he pulled his hand out of your pants and away from you suddenly, and you were about to complain when he pulled your shorts down your legs, your panties along with them. he moved between your legs quickly and licked a long stripe up your dripping heat, replacing his fingers from earlier with his hot wet tongue.

you gasped at the contact and rolled your hips against his mouth.

yeosang circled the tip of his tongue around the most sensitive part of your heat, moving his head so he could lap up the wetness of your entrance, he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked softly, using his tongue to press against it. you whined and slipped your fingers into his long hair, pressing his face deeper into you.

he gladly accepted this, moaning into your wetness. yeosang pushed his tongue into your hole and began tongue-fucking you relentlessly, you could feel his hot muscle inside of your walls, and his nose pressing into your clit.

you moaned louder and your hips stuttered against his face. your legs began to close around his head, when he pushed them up against your stomach and sucked on your clit, flattening his tongue against your folds and tasting all of your wetness.

just when you thought you were about to come, yeosang pulled away from your entrance and moved up your body to lock lips with you, you felt your juices running all over his chin and that turned you on even more.

“lay, “you sucked on his bottom lip, “down” you pressed a kiss on his mouth quickly, “now.”

yeosang smiled against your lips and flipped over onto his back.

you climbed over him, slipping your fingers under his shirt.

“off.”

yeosang chuckled and leaned forward enough so that you could pull his shirt off him.

“kinda bossy.”

you smiled and pressed a kiss against his collarbone, moving down to circle your tongue around his nipple. yeosang hissed and moaned unexpectedly, slipping his hands into your hair, pulling your head back.

“i’m done playing. ride me.”

at his words your heat throbbed, and you obviously weren’t going to deny him that.

it had been nothing but darkness earlier, but now that your eyes had adjusted to the darkness, it was practically heaven looking down at shirtless yeosang underneath you, nothing but the moonlight shining onto his skin.

your fingertips danced over his toned chest before you pulled your shirt above your head, yeosang’s hands immediately going to grab your breasts, watching while you unclipped your bra from behind.

once the bra left your body, yeosang sat up and pressed his face to your chest, pressing your breasts together and sucking as much of one of them as he could into his mouth. you softly moaned and grabbed him by his hair, fingers holding onto the strands before pulling his head back so he would look at you.

it was a sight to see, his mouth slightly parted open, eyes cracked open barely but still staring into your face.

“i’m gonna fuck you now.”

“i’m fine with that.”

you grinned at him, and pushed yourself up enough off his lap so that he could push his shorts off. yeosang leaned to the side slightly, reaching for his side table. you knew what he was looking for, so you waited and watched as he ripped open a condom wrapper with his teeth, tossing it to the side to be forgotten for the moment as he rolled it down over his thick cock.

you lowered yourself down, moaning as you stretched around him.

“fuck, you’re big.”

“fuck, you’re tight.”

you chuckled and wrapped your arms around his shoulders finally lowering yourself down all the way and letting him bottom out inside of you.

“it’s been a while- “you winced and lifted yourself before starting to go back down, before yeosang thrusted his hips into yours. “fuck yeosang!”

he wrapped his arms around your waist, pushing you down onto him while he met your hips. you barely had to do any work even though you were on top, but yeosang was way more muscular than he appeared, his arm veins showed while he slammed into you, and after about a minute he just flipped you onto your back on his bed.

you squeaked and laughed, and he grinned back down at you, before stopping both of your smiles once he slipped back into your entrance. a soft groan left his lips and his speed increased to drill his hips into yours, watching as your breasts bounced the faster he went.

his hand raised from your side to wrap around one of your tits and wrap his lips around the nipple. you groaned and held onto his shoulders for dear life, you began to see white all around your vision, you could feel yourself tensing up around his thick length, but he didn’t slow down at all.

“fuck!” you shakily breathed into his ear and finally his hips began to show signs of stuttering because of your reaction to him. you felt powerless under him like this, your knees were pressed up all the way to your chest and his weight pressed down onto you perfectly, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

yeosang lifted his head to look at you, a fucked out looked in his brown eyes. you reached up and pushed his long hair back out of his face, whispering his name over and over like it was a prayer. he brought his brows tightly together, dropping his head against your shoulder. his hips stuttered again, and you could feel his thighs tensing under yours.

“fuck, fuck, fuck, y/n” he pushed inside of you and stiffened, letting his orgasm take over his body, emptying himself into the condom inside of you.

the two of you sat like that for a few moments, yeosang simply trying to catch his breath. he was heaving on top of you still, both of your skin was sweaty, and you were practically stuck together like this. you weren’t complaining.

he pulled himself out of you, looking down at the condom as he tied it and threw it in the same general direction as the wrapper.

“guys are gross..”

yeosang laughed and laid back on top of you, pressing his face into the crook of your neck.

“i’m just gonna stay like this, if that’s okay with you. I think it’s time for bed now.”

you nodded against the top of his head, wrapping your arms around him once again.

“that’s perfectly fine with me.”

[decayandfanfics]

The great book of sayings

PAIRINGS: Tomura Shigaraki x FemReader

SUMMARY: He looks at you, his scarlet eyes fixed on yours, burning a hole through your head, every bit the predator he is, but you are as tough as it gets, so, against your better judgment and any well-founded logic, you answer his silent threat, the animalistic look he gives you with nothing less than a fearless smirk, irises burrowing into his pupils.A clever girl. He thinks, finally labeling you inside his head, cursing himself in the very moment he allows his brain to think of you as more than an asset. He is sure (he knows himself enough to know) he’ll think of this moment many times from now on.A clever pretty girl.

Reader is a typical college student until she gets herself tangled with the league of villains.

WARNINGS: Unhealthy/complicated relationships, violence, Tomura being Tomura, mentions of murder, heroes’ abuse of power, smut later.

A/N: I’m trying so hard to write crusty boy here really in character. At least after AfO is taken. Any misspelled words, english is not my native language so i’m trying Helen.

___________________________________________________________

Chapter 8 / Chapter 9

You show me the man and I’ll show you the rule.

Tomura thinks he knows nothing about beauty, but then she proves him wrong.

(He thought her pretty before already, but after seen it…he concludes she’s the most beautiful, terrific thing he’s ever seen. Not that he would tell her that.)

A feral dangerous creature living inside of her with no other match.

No other but him.

Oh...you have no idea...She told him.

It happens so fast. One moment she’s there, sitting in front of her laptop, pretty and quiet and serene. All harmony and light, resting softly under the sunlight, between her dumb succulents and the spices that fill her home. Then he can hear Dabi’s caustic laugh and the wrong words. He’s disrespectful, an instigator, skilled in the art of making others lose their composure like is his favorite game.

He hears the foul words, the berating, and the mocking aimed to him, while she sits wide eyed and impossible flustered by the kitchen table.

Dabi smirks triumphant, like he always does after giving everyone a piece of his drama and Tomura watches him, wincing, reminding himself again that Dabi is supposedly oldest than him and Toga, and yet he does his best to being an annoying brat.

Tomura knows better to just let him bark, his remarks mean nothing to him, he knows what he is, and he knows what he isn’t. He’s a freak, yeah. That too, but he isn’t a child anymore, so he let it slide, keeping his eyes glued to his phone arching an inquisitive brow, ready to just let it die there.

He just forgot about the stupid little stunts of bravery she has this tendency to commit. (An annoying dangerous trait that makes him chuckle with something akin to fondness.)

She’s having none of the bullshit, Dabi’s little remarks had fed her up after a whole week of spiteful teasing, her precious patience has run thin.

“blue eyes are a mutation too, so you are no one to talk about it.”

The moment she opens her mouth, Tomura feels something warm filling the hollow place where his dead heart should go and it’s so foreign to him that for a moment he panics and thinks (very stupidly) that maybe his energy drink-based diet is finally going to kill him, and he (barely in his sweet twenty’s) is having a stupid heart attack.

But the pain never comes, it’s just her, voicing a clever answer, defending him.

“A quirkless little bitch? Seriously, Dabi? Where you raised in a fucking barn that you know nothing but fuck this and bitch that?

He wants to make her shut it, but he can’t find the words. Not when her remarks are sharp and funny to hear. (Besides, her voice sounds so sweet when she’s throwing smart ass angry comments just to back him up.)

It warms him and enrages him equally. How dare she to defend him? He can speak for himself on his own and doesn’t need her to make any back up about an insult he doesn’t care for. Stupid pretty woman. Trying to shut Dabi, putting herself in danger for the likes of him...Is she insane? (later that day, he’ll conclude that she must be pretty fucking nuts to have them all in her home after all, but somehow the thought only makes him like her more.)

“yeah. I know stupid cunt too.”

Dabi likes to cause havoc and now he’s pissed, so he throws a vulgarity aimed at her. Tomura feels the hot pang of anger at the other man, because the offense is not only an insult, but also a lie.  She’s not stupid nor a cunt. She's sharp as a knife and kind enough to share with them. 

“Dabi, cut it out.” He warns with a grimace, and now the fight has everyone tense in the room.

“I’m sure you do. Pretty useful to describe yourself I bet.” She snarls showing her teeth, an angry frown darkening her features and Tomura swears her eyes begin changing color.

“you sure like to bet, like how you are betting I don’t burn you alive for being an annoying bitch.”

This time Tomura gets fucking furious, something animal revolving inside of him at the idea of Dabi threatening her. But the fight is escalating so fast, he can’t say anything before she answers back.  

“Fuck off, Dabi. This might be shocking for you, but you don’t scare me.”

He wants to laugh at this, truly. Feisty little thing she is when angered, all her soft ways and nerd knowledge thrown out the window in a fit of cocky bickering and a part of him is living for the chaos of it.

“now, that’s pretty fucking stupid of you.”

“Dabi, shut up!” Tomura growls irked with the way her hair has begun to float over her shoulders, now completely convinced that she’s not quirkless at all.

“I’m not the one insulting everyone just because I cannot deal with some fucking daddy issues.”

God fucking dammit woman, just shut up. He thinks frustrated, giving her a look worth a stab.

“YOU DON’T KNOW SHIT” Dabi snarls before kicking the little table in the living room, breaking one of its legs with a loud crack.

“CUT IT OUT!” she screams this time, standing from her chair “I don’t have to know when it’s plainly obvious you have problems with authority.”

“you really think you are so clever, don’t you?” Dabi states, crossing the living room, aiming to her, so Tomura leaves his place in the corner to stand at her side without even thinking why.

“I know I am, asshole!”

Dabi stops his tracks, looming over her like a monster. His eyes scanning her face before looking at Tomura, who stands by her with his hands open in front of him in clear warning.

The black-haired man looks at her before moving to Tomura, his brows raised in surprise as he chuckles darkly.

Shigaraki hates the way he looks at him, like he knows his thoughts. Like he knows he’s been creeping into her room to watch her sleep and the sinister lustful visions that sometimes plague his dreams after some playful back and forth every time she defies him with some smart-ass comment.

“stupid woman. You should know better.”

And then…he just slaps the laptop out of the table; the computer smashing open against the cemented ground.

Tomura remembers this moment like one would remember the witness of a car crush or a catastrophe. A simple second enough to amaze him for a lifetime.

The way her eyes just ignite into scorching red lights shining like burning embers under her frown brow. Her hair floats free from gravity over her shoulders like a terrible chaotic crown as her mouth flash pearly teeth in a feral snarl.

He watches how she claws her right hand, fingers curling, knuckles tensing and Dabi is suddenly choking under the pressure of some raw power. His limbs twisting painfully in horrific motion and unnatural angles in complete agony.

A second later and before anyone could grasp what’s happening, her other hand pointing pinky, index and thumb to Compress, Toga and himself, keeping them frozen in their place, a strange rigid pressure making him feel like he’s full of cement and any movement will shatter his bones and snap his spine.

He can’t move, he can barely breathe. Feeling like if every fiber of his being, every muscle, every cord is solid hard under his skin, unavailing him to get away.

But he can watch, so he watches her terrified and amazed.

Her quirk is rare, and powerful and dangerous. But she keeps it locked away, sleeping soundly, safely caged inside her ribs, like the best hidden weapon, perfect for torturing bodies and bending wills. Buried deeply under her layers of kindness and humor.

One twitch of a finger, and Dabi’s neck would snap in two and they can do nothing but just watch when little blood vessels begin to burst in the white of his eyes as he pants desperate for air, his veins contorting furiously under the marred skin of his neck and the flames scatter in some random parts of his body without any control.

Tomura swears he can hear Dabi’s bones crackle under the invisible force as his spine bends backwards in a sickening angle.

And, as sudden as it begins, ends.

Her hair falls and her eyes are no longer red. Dabi breathes again falling to his knees and for a moment Tomura thinks he will cry out of pure fright.

For a moment he wonders if Toga and Compress want to cry too because that felt like certain death, but is sweet, somehow. Something within him squirms joyfully with the notion of her own violence. She is as dangerous as him, no damsel in distress, no little girl in need of care, no simple quirkless girl, but a horrifying woman. A dangerous and powerful creature with a quirk made for torment, just like-

He looks at her, just to find a sad disappointed face. A thick trail of blood began sliding silently from her nose, tainting the perfect bow of her lip. Only then he notices the bloodshot eyes and how the color has run from her face.

She stands quiet and bitter watching between her hands and Dabi trying to catch his breath. Her face giving away guilt and self-loathing (two feelings he’s very familiar with.) but unlike him, she is no tormentor, she grasps no joy in watching Dabi suffer, nor do she wish of making them quiver to the sight of her.

She is kind, and brave, and witty. Humorous girl, quick at wordplay and puns; buying vitamins and oranges for them and something about no one getting scurvy under her watch.

He wants to laugh hysterically at her sight because she is magnificent, and for a moment he thinks that the boy with the destructive touch and the girl with the tormenting gaze sounds like a hell of a name for rulers and his heart shivers in excitement, but she is crying and clutches her guilty hands against her chest and ask them to forgive her for using her quirk on them.

She didn’t mean to; she didn’t want to. She likes them all very much, so she promises she’ll never hurt them again, and somehow it reminds him of something, but he cannot place a finger on what exactly.

He feels the sorrow drowning him. A grudge so horrid it makes him want to vomit and scratch his neck raw because something in her resembles something in him, but he cannot really grasp the motive of such connection, only knowing it has something to do with the hands he carries around like a symbol of his own distress and a little black-haired boy crying in some familiar backyard.

The sound of the bathroom door startles him and she’s no longer in the living room, but he can hear the quiet sobbing coming from behind the door.

Finally, Dabi decides to just fall backwards against the cold floor, still panting, an arm over his eyes.

Only then Spinner breaks the dreadful silence and ask the question they all want to make.

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT.”

Chapter 10

[errthel]

Four, just Four

This is the fourth installment of my fanfiction that is twisted (hehe) from @tri3tri 's Second Wife AU, Tempest.

I have reached peak procrastination, and will continue ignoring my requirements until I have no choice than to do them, don't be like me, I have really bad habits.

To Florius, it was the first time in his immortal life that he was ever startles by a mere question. His golden eyes moved over to the freshman, he had a relaxed aura around him but his (e/c) eyes had lost it's glow making him look eerie.

"Hm... what do you want to know, surely you aren't interested in everything?" Florius' curiosity for the freshman had peaked even further and he was very much getting more interested in him

"Yeah you're right Florius-senpai, I wanna know who rule the Valley of Thorns." quick and calm

"It's a monarchy, like most kingdoms in Twisted Wonderland. The ruling family is the Draconia family and they're direct descendants of Maleficent."

"Maleficent?"

"One powerhouse of a magician she's one of the top five magicians in all of the lands."

"Is that so? Then did she use to rule over the Valley of Thorns?"

"Yeah, it's now passed down to her grandson, Malleus Draconia, he's also a part of the top five."

"Malleus..." Lucien felt an overwhelming amount of pressure when the name rolled off his lips

"Mhm, well right now the family has I think at least six members. Maleficent, Malleus, Malleus's parents, his concubine, Bellatrix and their son the heir, Victor..."

"A concubine? What about the queen?" Lucien said getting more interested in the royal family of the Valley of Thorns

"Well yeah, there is a queen, no one really knows anything about her though, not her name or what she looks like, nothing. Malleus seems keen on keeping the queen inside of the Valley of Thorns."

"Do they have any children?"

"Hm... now that I think about it, there are rumors that they have two daughters, one leading their military and the other leading magic studies. But it's weird, those two girls are older than the heir, they don't discriminate the gender of the heir in the Valley of Thorns, I wonder if anything happened."

"I see... then, thank you Florius-senpai, I will be going now..." Lucien said before walking back to his cottage

"I don't know why, but he seems a bit familiar... must be my memories getting mixed up, I am starting to get older after all..."

~

Lucien walked to his cottage in deep thought, he felt like he had spent an eternity to get there.

Malleus Draconia.

He remembers his grandmother wheezing that name after her nightmarish vision.

Is that person supposed to be his father? A sick psycho? One who just couldn't let go of an obviously hurting person? His behaviour is akin to that of a zoo keeper ignoring the sick animals.

Lucien couldn't take it, he wanted to do something, but being patient is a virtue, he should formulate a plan to get them out of that cage. He just regrets his stupidity when he forced himself to forget what his family looked like.

He sighs.

It seems he has to take things into his own hands.

~

The gloomy atmosphere of breakfast spoiled her appetite. Sitting beside her sister, who seemed like she was about to die of boredom. Infront of her was her father's concubine and infront of her sister was their half-brother, deeming them boring, the black haired lady looked over to one side of the long table and a monotonous scene greeted her eyes. Her father, in all his glory just staring off into the distance, he had barely touched his food and she was sure it was already ice cold.

"Renata, your mother didn't come down for breakfast."

Renata perked up when she heard her father mutter those words before she relaxed a bit and took a bite of her food.

After chewing for a painstakingly long time, she said "I don't know what is happening with mother, because it seems like someone is preventing me from meeting her." her response was as sharp as a whip as she glanced at the lime green haired guard beside her father

She heard the chair beside he screech indicating that her sister had had enough boredom and was ready to just leave.

"True, how can we know what mother does when some ridiculous person prevents us from even saying a hello. It's been like that for a few days, dear Father." hidden malice dripped from Sherry's mouth as she walked to the door of the dining room

Renate followed closely having enough of the sour soup that was served and shut the door with force.

"Waka-sama! Those two are getting out of hand, you should try to punish them." the lime green haired guard said in a small harsh whisper

"Now, now, Sebek, they are rather tame today. Also Victor, we are truly sorry for requesting for you to have breakfast here when you have just started out classes at Night Raven College. We'll prepare a mirror immediately." the deep polite words of the ancient being eased the people in the room

"Mhm."

"I am sorry, Lillia-sama!"

The ruby eyed Fae looked off into the open window. He sighs, he had a feeling that a great storm would pass over soon.

The two sisters walked synchronized, each carrying malice towards the king. They separated ways and left to their respective posts.

The lime green haired guard's gaze hardened, those two girls! They don't act like the princesses they were supposed to be. He knew that that woman was the worst person his lord could have children with, their children are uncooperative and rude.

The concubine bade her son good bye as he was escorted to a mirror leading to Night Raven College, she held a small smile in her youthful face, proud that her son was chosen to go to Night Raven College, just a bit angry that he was sorted into Pomefiore and not Diasomnia.

The heir clenched his teeth together, even when he was there, his father only talked to his daughters! What was the point of him being there?! Just an afterthought? No, he was done being an afterthought.

The king stayed silent before he sighed. It had been ten years since he got his wife and children back, they had tantrums even worse than this, but why does he have a sickening feeling like it's starting to get worse than this.

~

Lucien's lessons were surprisingly easy for him to comprehend, sure it had been only a week, but he was sure that he could survive. But one thing he wasn't so sure about was money. He wasn't able to find a place to convert his money to madols so he was basically broke. He wasn't so sure on how to gain money though.

Lucien walked around the campus after school to try to rack his brain for ways to get money.

Sell stuff? No, the school already has a school store.

Try to become a servant to one of these princes? No, he's very used to having his whole day to himself.

What could he do?

"Hey! Hey freshman!" realizing that the voice was referring to him, he quickly looked behind to see a short male with black hair and porcelain skin

"Ee- yes?" Lucien gave a lopsided smile making the other male's eyes sparkle

"Ohh! So it is true! You really are handsome! Why not join the Modeling Club?!" he said, extreme optimism exuding from his straightforward request

"Eh? Uh, I don't really think I'm cut out for that kind o-"

"You can earn money in this club."

"!"

"As I said, Lucien-chan, you can earn real money through this club, you need money don't you? Oh and also I'm Noel LeBlanche, a second year here." he gave Lucien a knowing smile making Lucien just look at him like he grew two heads

"LeBlanche-Senpai. You're right. I need money, so I guess I join the club?"

"Hm... LeBlanche-Senpai sounds weird, just call me Noel-Senpai or... Noel-chan?" he said using one of his long porcelain fingers to rub Luciens left pec through his uniform as he smirked a little

"Noel-Senpai!"

"Fine~ suit yourself. Well then, I'll bring you to the club room so you can start earning money as soon as possible!" he said grabbing Lucien's hand and just running off with him in tow

Lucien felt powerless in Noel's hand, he felt like paper just being aggressively carried by the wind, or in this case, Noel. He feels like he's going to barf.

~

The blond freshman entered his cottage with a tired face, he came back from club work and was exhausted.

He looked over with a smile to his friends desk to see that Lucien was missing and he screamed.

"Lucien! Where are yo?!-"

"Brier-sama, he's over there." the newly showered Linden said gesturing over to the first years bed

"Eh? But he always did his homework at his desk after classes."

"Well, he recently joined a club." Hawthorne said popping up out of nowhere, dispite that, it phased no one

"I can't really see a club exhausting someone that much..." Brier trailed off

"Yes, but we have to take account that Lucien has half the energy and motivation of a regular human, so club activities will definitely tire him out." Hawthorne said while Linden nodded

"Oh, is that so? Well we should prepare some tea to boost his energy! Let's go Hawthorne! Linden, you can watch over Lucien if you want!" the two louder cottagemates sprung to go to the central cottage to get some tea ready while Linden approached Lucius who layed pitifully exhausted on his belly

"I do wonder what club you joined." he said after crouching on the ground and rocking a bit

"The Modeling Club..." Lucien managed to wheeze out

"...You have my condolences..." Linden muttered unceremoniously while Lucien wheezed like a dying alpaca

Lucien's mind drifted off to what his life did for the last two hours.

~

"Ohh! You really are handsome!" a boy with lovely blond hair and glowy brown eyes said, he greeted Noel and Lucien when they came inside the expansive club room

The clicks of cameras, people practicing their walking, eating snacks together, taking selfies on their phones, gave the club room an energetic feel and was something Lucien didn't expect at all.

"Lucien, this is Asher. He's the vice president of the Modeling Club!" Noel gestured to the blond haired boy which Lucien greeted

"Nice to meet you Asher-senpai."

"Ohoho! The rumors were true after all! This one's a dandy! Alrighty, let's get you camera ready! Give him something like a suit!"

"Eh! Right now?!"

"Yes right now Lucien-chan. Today will be the start of your blossoming modeling career ;) ~"

~

"That's how I got to model outfit after outfit for two hours."  Lucien said whilst eating up the soup Brier and Hawthorne got for him

"Ohh! I heard about Noel-senpai, he's a really big influencer! No doubt will people start to flock you when he posts picture of you!" Brier said

"Mhm, Noel is pretty cool." Hawthorne said while whistling

"I only really joined for the money..." Lucien confessed

"Eh? Lucien, you are a person who calculates everything, but you accepted for money?"

"Well, I am broke, it's more for security than actually spending, but I feel like I made a big mistake."

"Mhm, thinking of Lucien-san's personality, you definitely won't catch a break." Hawthorne said monotonously

"What's with that monotone expression?!"

"Hmm, well, since Lucien-san is handsome, I wanna see what the pictures look like." Linden said with a small, knowing smile

"They'll be posted tomorrow from what Noel-senpai said."

"Mhm! I look forward to seeing them!"

So, um, I just realized that there was a limit for posts. This was just like 23 pages in Samsung Notes. Yeah, so I had to cut down the last part but okay man.

Alrighty, we finally get some tea about the Valley of Thorns and boy was I like lollollollollol when I wrote this down yesterday.

That's most of it I guess, so part one of chapter 4 or just chapter 4 and the rest will be part of chapter 5, yeah, I guess it has to be like that. Frick this is going so fast and it's still Lucien's first week of classes,gotta slow down a bit.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #359

“i’m only a crack in this castle of glass  /  hardly anything there for you to see”

Do you look better with your hair down or up? It's too short to go up. Has you mom ever directly told you that she favoured your other sibling(s) over you? Yeesh, no. Have you ever read The Outsiders? Seen the movie? Read the book, seen the movie. Adore both. What’s your favourite drink from Jamba Juice? I don't think we have those here. Can you stand eating the crusts of a slice of sandwich bread? I don't mind the crust at all. Do you do your homework at home or in class? Prior to college, I did my work right after getting home to get it out of the way. In college, I did it in-between classes or when waiting for Mom to finish class. Do you feel uncomfortable sharing drinks with other people? Yes, I never do it. Do you get jealous if your boyfriend hugs another girl? I'm single, but hypothetically, I wouldn't... It's just a hug. At least for me, it's just a friendly gesture. Is there something that happened in your past you hate talking about? A few things, yes. Is it hard for you to be “just friends” with the opposite sex? Nah. If you had to choose, what color is your favorite? Baby pink. How many times have you dated the person you’re with now? I’m single. Has anyone suspected you of being a different sexuality? Yes. Do you like chocolate or vanilla cake more? Chocolate. Does it bother you to have blood drawn or not so much? Nah. What color is your toothbrush? It's a white electric one. Do you normally fall asleep fast or slow? Ridiculously slow. Have you ever had a severe allergic reaction? No. What do you want to be for Halloween this year? I'd love to dress up as like a Ms. Oogie Boogie and take some cool pictures, but I highly doubt it'll actually happen. What color are your glasses, if applicable? Black. Do you still look in the toy aisle, or do you pass it by? I walk past it. What are your summer fashion essentials? I don't have fashion essentials for any season. Do you have your own website? For my photography, yeah. Do you think you would be a good salesperson? Ha, no. I worked in retail before and I fucking sucked. Do you like candy corn? NO. Just colored wax, ugh. Do you like to wear skirts? I don't wear anything that shows my legs. Were you happy as a kid? Yeah. That, talkative, and hyper. Favorite store to browse but not really buy anything? Haha, I LOVE going on MorphMarket now and again to browse the ball pythons especially, but boy if I had the cash and space would I buy like fifty of them at once. I don't really know about a store I like browsing but not buying from. Skittles or Sour Patch Kids? Both are great, but I guess Sour Patch Kids. BUT, if you throw SOUR Skittles in there... then it's a war lol. If tattoos were free, how many would you have? A HELL OF A LOT. I wanna be just about totally painted. Do you wear a retainer at night? Not anymore. I had one, but I stopped using it. Are you afraid of dolls, puppets, or clowns? I'm not a doll person, particularly porcelain ones. When you’re in your room, do you keep the door locked? No. It's not even closed. Do you think your face is mostly symmetrical? Actually no, and I'm self-conscious about it. Stupidest thing you have ever said out loud? OH Christ, I'm not retrospecting on this. What’s your least favourite ice-cream flavour? That I've actually tried, strawberry. It's disgusting. What was the last good news you heard? I got approved for TMS therapy! Who was the last person to comment on your Facebook status? My friend Lyndsey. How did you meet him/her? World of Warcraft. She's actually my guild master, and she is the sweetest damn person. Have you ever learned any self-defense? If not, would you be interested in learning? I haven't, but yeah, I'd like to. When was the last time you took a nap? How long was it? Yesterday. For some reason, I actually slept a LONG time, like at least three, but probably close to four, hours. I mean I was tired, but I didn't feel THAT tired. Do you like Gushers? YAAAAAAAAAAS What would you do if you could do anything without failing? Actually get a degree for SOMETHING. What is your native language? English. Do you have a younger brother or sister? A younger sister. If so do/did they really get on your nerves? No. We were very close as kids, but we've drifted apart. Now, she absolutely doesn't get on my nerves. I'm so proud of her. Name something that happened to you that was completely unexpected. Uhhh I dunno. Do you judge people that have multiple piercings? Lol wtf? No. Do you watch the Olympics? No. What did you have for breakfast this morning? I had Kix cereal. Do you like orange juice? Yes. So long as it doesn't have pulp in it. Do you think it’s cruel to keep an animal in a cage while you’re away? It depends on the size of the cage as well as how long you're away. Do you have a pet gecko? No, but I'd love a fat-tailed gecko. Are you scared of reptiles? Not at all, I adore them. Is your car messy? I don't have my own car. Mom's kinda is, though. It needs a wash badly, but because of her bumper literally being zip-tied on, she doesn't trust going into a car wash. And neither of us are about to do it manually, lol. Have you ever seen the show 16 and Pregnant? No, fuck that show. Do you buy expensive clothes? No. Does death scare you? Not really. What are your current goals? Conquer my social anxiety, get a job, lose weight, do something to strengthen my legs... Those are the four biggies. Do you clap or cheer when at a concert? I did both at the one I've been to. Do you drink coffee? What brand? No. Do you use a comb or brush? A comb. When you were younger, did you ever do that exclamation point that looked like an upside down triangle and had a really big dot? No. I loved the cutesy girl handwriting though, haha. I just could never do it. You’re locked in a room with the person you last dated, any problems? Well yeah, we're locked in a room lmao. What kind of relationship do you have with the last person you kissed? It's perfectly fine, we're best friends. Have you ever gotten burnt by a cigarette? No. Do you get mad when people smoke around you? Yes. Honestly, have you ever eaten raw cookie dough? Yeah, more than once. When was the last time you were on a city bus? Never. Do you have a garden? Does it have flowers, vegetables, or both? No. Where do you want to raise your kids? Who said I even want kids? Have you ever been to Cracker Barrel? Yessssss, good shit. Have you ever seen a ghost? I think I have. Have you ever burned an ant with a magnifying glass? No. Have you ever been to craigslist.com? Yes. Have you ever used Nair? Yes, on my legs. It works, I just have stupidly hairy legs that need so much to get it all. How many tabs do you have open and what are they? Two YouTube tabs and then Tumblr. What browser do you prefer to use? Chrome. What room are you in right now? My bedroom. Are you excited for anything this month? 1.) I get my tattoo on the 19th, and 2.) I start TMS next Wednesday. What language course did you take in school, if any? I barely survived one semester of Latin, then I did all four available German courses. What language would you most like to learn? I'd love to improve my German. What would you like to get a degree in? Photography. What book are you reading, what genre is it and do you like it so far? Wings of Fire: The Brightest Night. It's young adult fantasy, I think. Did you ever sometimes flip through your text books even when you didn’t need to? Yeah, mainly to just look at pictures because I was that bored in class, haha. What types of magazines do you read? None. Would you prefer to read a book, watch a movie or TV show, or play a video game? Play a video game. What’s your current relationship like with the person you lost your virginity to and do you wish it was different? We don't have any relationship anymore. I don't regret losing it to him, if that's what you're asking. If you mean our relationship stance, it'd be nice to still be in touch with him, but I know it wouldn't be healthy for me. Have you ever felt responsible for someone’s death? Pets, yes. No humans. What was the last book you recommended to someone? Idk. What’s the most difficult thing you and your current or last significant other have gone through? Distance was very hard. What’s your best memory with your ex? I'm going to assume this refers to "the ex." In which case, we were "play arguing," and I came storming into the kitchen after him to make a point, and I slid mid-sentence, and he caught me. We just held each other laughing our asses off. It's the simple things, man. Who was the last person that asked to hang out with you and what’s the story of how you met that person? Summer. My little sister and her were in pre-k together and became friends, but I gradually became closer to her than Nicole did when we were teens. Has anyone ever asked you out and you turned them down? Yes. Is there something you generally always ask for help with? Yeah. Like recently I've been having apples and peanut butter a lot, and I ask my mom to cut the apple because I'm terrified of knives. Do you feel comfortable telling people how much you weigh? NOPE. Have you looked at any old photos of yourself lately? No. In a relationship, have you ever been on and off with your partner? No. Do you consider cooking to be an art? Yes. Are you a fast or slow reader? I'd say I read at a moderate pace. Does it take a lot to gross you out? It depends on what it is, but I am actually more squeamish than I used to be.

[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

.

.

{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?”

.

.

[atiny-orbit1219]

Cheap Beer and Ramen

*Pairing: Lee Taeyong x Reader 

*Genre: Straight cheesy fluff

*Plot idea: Pet store owner Taeyong loved every animal he had in his store, from the cats all the way to the bearded dragon but for some reason, he could never handle the snakes; the way they slithered sent shivers down his spine every time. So he hired a part-timer and she was in charge of the reptiles and making sure Taeyong didn’t take another cat home. 

*Word count: 3,200

*Warnings: Small amount of cussing, drinking, kissing, really really cheesy

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　 

The sound of your phone blaring from its spot on your bedside table is what woke you up. You weren’t happy to say the least as the wonderful dream you were having started to slip away into an untapped part of your brain. You didn’t even have time to write it down before you forgot what happened completely. You groan into your pillow as your hand reaches out blindly, sliding all across the table until it found its target. Your fingers grasped the device as you brought it closer, lifting your head slightly, the blinding light from your screen causing you to squint and lower your brightness. But for your tired eyes it still burned straight through your corneas. You saw the time in the top center and was confused at first, you didn’t have to be awake for another hour… why was your alarm going off now? You sat up slowly, pushing your messy hair out of your face and finally you notice his name. You sighed as you hit the green answer button right before he was sent to voicemail. “This better be good Taeyong.” You deadpanned, not expecting to hear from your boss so early in the morning. 

“Good morning to you too Y/N” He just said back, sounds of people talking flowed through the speakers from his side. You pulled your pillow onto your lap holding it close as you spoke. “Why are people there? We Don’t open until eleven.” She question, slowly waking up as the call continued. “Haha... About that. I must have misheard the lady on the call last week, apparently, the new snakes aren’t coming in tomorrow but today.” Even though he couldn’t see you, he could tell you rolled your eyes as he explained his reasoning for this wake-up call. “Taeyong… You own a pet store but you can’t even handle a few snakes, you clearly didn’t think this through,” you said slightly annoyed. you knew the entire reason you were hired was because of your love of reptiles but at that moment you were too tired to remember that. “I know… I know, but the way they just slither and- ughhh.” you could hear his shivers over the phone just from thinking about it. “You’re such a Pussy Lee Taeyong.” you said, then after a small pause you continued, “I’ll be there in ten, you can at least unload them into the store right?” You asked in a teasing tone. “Yes! I can do that! You’re the best Y/N! I’ll buy you anything you want from next door, you deserve the most expensive ramen.” You couldn’t help but snort at his response before muttering a quiet goodbye and hanging up to go get ready. 

~

“Y/N is here to save the day!” you call as you walk into the store an hour earlier than you were scheduled. The bell that hung above the door rung, signaling your entrance if the obnoxious yelling didn’t do the trick. Taeyong was just finishing setting the boxes of baby snakes on the counter, his head turning at the sound of your voice, a wide smile spreading across his face. “My own personal superhero.” He teased stepping away from the reptiles as if he was avoiding the plague. You have worked for Taeyong for exactly one year and four months. You had just moved to the city for university, leaving everything you had known behind to follow your dreams of becoming a zoo veterinarian. Something about being able to work with animals from all over the world excited you more than words could explain. Of course, your parents helped pay your way into college along with the help of scholarships but you still needed to eat and pay rent so you went job hunting. Getting a job as a college student in the city was a lot harder than they made it in the movies, most of the places you applied gave you unrealistic hours that would leave you with no time to study. Just as you started to lose hope and went to the convenience store close to your apartment to drown yourself in cheap beer and ramen did you see the ‘Now Hiring’ sign on the building right next door. In one last desperate attempt, you entered the newly built pet store and your eyes immediately landed on the silver-haired man behind the counter. Everything from his small smile as you walked in, to his enthusiastic nod when you asked about applying, even to the way he shyly scratched the back of his neck when he asked you if you liked snakes… everything pulled you in. And the flexible hours was a bonus. 

It took a while for Taeyong to get close to you. He was shy and socially awkward but you found the way he blushed every time he spoke to you absolutely adorable. As time went on though you two slowly became more than just employer and employee, you two became friends. You started going to the convenience store next door together after closing the shop, talking for hours over the cheap beer and ramen you went to buy the day you met him. Taeyong was a total mom friend, he always nagged you for staying up to study and forgetting to eat; he would congratulate you on passing your exams and even splurge on the expensive beer and ramen and refused to go halfsies like you normally do on special occasions. You remembered the night you got your biology exam scores back and had almost a perfect score, the first person you wanted to tell was him. Why? You didn’t really know, but you ended up practically running to the store, your phone clutched in your hands that showed your scores. You threw the glass doors open, the bell ringing violently, Taeyong looking away from a customer to you with a shocked expression.  “Y/N! Are you okay? What’s wrong?” He asked, worry dripping from his voice as he stepped away from the old woman holding a cat she was planning on adopting. “A ninety-eight.” You said, your breathing labored, barely able to get those words out as you place your hands on your knees, attempting to stop gasping for air, damn you were out of shape. “What? A ninety-eight? What do you mean?” He asked, tilting his head in the dangerously cute way he does. “Excuse me Miss I am only seventy-four.” The old woman chirped in, your eyes going wide as you wave your hands in disagreement. Finally, enough air entered her lungs, “Not you Ma’am, I apologize. A ninety-eight percent. I got a ninety-eight on my bio exam.” She got out. Taeyong smiled at this, a small laugh leaving his lips as he steps completely away from the lady and jogged across the store over to you. “I can’t say I’m surprised.” he teased, ruffling your already messy hair as he smiled down at you, “But that’s amazing… I’m a proud boss. Drinks on me after close?” He said, raising his eyebrow at his proposition. You nodded quickly, smiling back.

“Lady’s choice.” Taeyong’s voice rung from behind you as you scanned the ramen isle, a finger on your chin as you pretended to contemplate your options before reaching for your favorite, which just happened to be one of the cheapest, as a college student you learned not to have expensive taste. “Predictable Y/N.” Taeyong said as you turned to face him, holding out the ramen in front of you with a wide smile. He had on a zip-up hoodie and a simple pair of jeans, but he was Lee Taeyong Afterall, everything looked good on him. His hands were in his pockets as he followed you around the convenience store, watching you with a small smile. “C’mon Y/NNN you got a ninety-eight on your exams, get something more expensive, I’m paying.” He whined and you just let out a laugh, “Oh don’t worry Taeyong, I’m buying kimchi too! I deserve to be spoiled.” You tease, setting the ramen, kimchi and a six-pack of the more expensive alcohol on checkout counter so it could be scanned. You don’t remember much more of that night, you drank a little too much you guessed. You woke up the next morning in your bed, Taeyong’s hoodie wrapped around you. He left you a note on your bedside table with a bottle of aspirin on top. ~How’s that headache you dummy? Why did you drink so much? I had to carry you home. Anyway, good job on your exam, I’ll see you when your shift starts. - Taeyong (P.S You’re a lot heavier than you look)~

~

You were brought back from your trip down memory lane, Taeyong waving his hand in front of your face. “You’re my snake charmer Y/N, you can’t zone out on me now.” you could hear the smile in his voice without even having to look up at him. “Huh? Oh yeah! Right! Snakes.” You muttered, shaking the thought of your boss from your head. you walked across the store to the counter where the three boxes of snakes sat. One by one you prepared their habitats and placed them in. Suddenly an idea popped in your head, a little payback for waking you up an hour early. you finished the last snake’s habitat, a smirk on your face the entire time. Thankfully Taeyong was busy doing inventory in the back. You placed the snake in its glass cage, the creature immediately slithering under the fake rock for shelter with perfect timing as Taeyong walked through the doorway the led to the back of the store. “How’s it going?” he asked curiously, leaning over the counter with his elbows resting on the surface.  “Oh Redtail Boa and Ball Python are done all that’s left is the hog….nose oh no.” Your report to him was interrupted. Taeyong’s shoulders tensed slightly as his eyes met your worried ones. “What do you mean oh no?” he asked, watching as you lifted the box the Hognose was shipped in. Turning it sideways for him to see. “I think it escaped,” you said, slightly above a whisper. “Oh no indeed,” Taeyong said, gulping nervously as his wide eyes scanned the tiled floor. You had to use all your willpower not to burst out laughing right then and there. You bit your bottom lip to keep it in as you pretended to look for the snake with him. He was obviously on his guard not wanting to scream like a little girl if the snake did end up moving past him… how embarrassing would that be? You’d never let him live it down. 

You two split up, thankfully the store wasn’t opened yet. You were in the cat aisle, hidden by shelves of cat toys from your boss’s eyes. You quickly searched for what you were looking for, you unloaded boxes of them the other day so it didn’t take you long. A snake toy on a rope for the everyday rambunctious cat. Your smirk only grew as you opened the toy as quietly as you could before walking over to the unexpected Taeyong. “Any luck?” you asked innocently and he nodded his head no, but you doubted he was actually looking, too afraid to actually find the reptile. You let loose of the string cautiously, letting the snake piece fall to the ground. You walked around him, acting as if you were checking the dog toy bins as you slowly pulled the stuffed snake over the shoes of the store owner.

You wished you recorded the scream that left Taeyong’s lips as he tried to get away, causing him to stumble backward and fall on top of you. That’s when you lost it. You started laughing louder than you ever have around him, tears collecting in your eyes as you hold up the fake snake for him to see with a sheepish smile. “Is this where I say ‘It’s just a prank bro’?” you asked curiously, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow. You didn’t even register the position you two were in until a couple of seconds later, a soft pink blush growing on your cheeks to match his already flustered expression. “A… A prank?” he asked more himself than anything and you nodded slowly, letting out a shy laugh. “As revenge… for waking me up early.” She said quietly, butterflies erupting in her stomach, did she go too far? What if he fires her? All of those thoughts were cleared when Taeyong let out a small chuckle, followed by another, and finally, he was laughing. “You truly are horrible.” he teased, rolling off of you holding out his hand to help you up to your feet. You took it cautiously, he pulls you up, but instead of letting go of your hand his grip tightens as he pulls your closer, your chests practically pressed together as he looks down at you. “Since you clearly don’t care whether I’m embarrassed or not I should stop caring as well.” He says vaguely, your eyes widened as you looked up at him, now it was your turn to gulp. “Remember the night we went to the convenience store after your bio exam?” He asked randomly and you nodded, did he someone read your mind and figure out what you were thinking about when you were zoned out? “Well you drank… a lot. And as I was carrying you to your apartment you said some amusing things.” He spoke slowly, bringing you more and more on edge. Oh no what did you say?? “Did I tell you that I accidentally flushed a live fish down the toilet because I swear I thought it was dead.” You panicked, not knowing what he knew and it drove you crazy. “No you told me- Wait huh? You did what?? Never mind we’ll talk about that later. You said you liked me… like, like like me.” He said, his confident demeanor fading for a moment as you close your eyes letting out a small whine. You did what?? How could you be so unprofessional? “I didn’t say anything because you were drunk and probably thought I was someone else.” He said honestly, scratching the back of his neck nervously as he looked down at you. You were quiet for a few minutes, trying to process what you just heard and decided the truth was better than lying. Finally, with your face as red as a tomato, you spoke up. Damn your drunken self.

“Of course I knew it was you… I… I do like you. I liked you since I first saw you that day, but your my boss so I just ignored it. It’s not like its something I can’t get over, just give me some time. I’m really sorry, I made you feel Awk-” before you even knew it your unnecessary ranting was cut off by a pair of lips on yours. His hands quickly followed, both of his palms resting on your face as he pulls you closer. Was this really happening? Were you dreaming again? Even if you were you weren’t about to let this one slip through your fingers. Your eyes fluttered shut as you leaned into the unexpected kiss, this moment played in your head so many times before but nothing beat the real thing. Your arms wrapped around him, your lips slowly moving with his. After a few more moments he pulled away but his hands remained in their place as he looked down at you with his adorable wide smile, his head tilting playfully as he muttered a quiet, “I like you too” before closing the gap between you two once more. 

If you could kiss Lee Taeyong forever you would. His lips tasted of the iced americano he drinks every morning and he smells just like the hoodie you ‘never got around’ to giving back. You smiled into the kiss, never wanting it to end and for a while it didn’t. You two were only torn out of love land by the ringing of the bell above the door. “You guys are open right?” a voice boomed from the entrance. Taeyong pulled away from you, stepping out from between your legs, somewhere in the middle of making out with your boss you ended sitting on the counter. Taeyong’s entire face was red as he nodded. “Yeah… Yeah we’re open.” He said, helping you down from the surface, holding your hand tightly as the customer looked around. You turned to Taeyong, looking up at him with a small smile. He was still out of it, your lipstick slightly smudged on his red lips. You leaned up slowly, using the pad of your thumb to wipe it off. If it was possible he got even redder, his eyes avoiding yours as he smiled shyly. “Beer and ramen after close?” you asked curiously, laughing softly as he shook his head. “I’m taking you to a real restaurant,” he said, more assuring himself more than anything. “And maybe a movie after?” He suggested, finally looking at you and not his shoes. “A dinner and a movie? Wow Lee Taeyong you really know how to spoil a girl, I didn’t even take an exam.” You teased, patting his shoulder playfully. “Well I shouldn’t need a reason to spoil my girlfriend. Wait you’re my girlfriend right.” He said, realizing his mistake too late. “Are you asking me out?” You ask, not able to help but notice how adorable he was being. He just nodded his head sheepishly, “I think so.” He muttered. “My only experience with relationships so far is animal crossing and I’m starting to notice it didn’t teach me much.” He muttered with a small pout. “Well my answer is yes, to the date and to being your girlfriend.” You said back with a happy smile and he matched your expression, his puppy-like eyes shining as he looked down at you. He bit his lip as he leaned in to kiss you again, forgetting the store full of customers. But before your lips could meet you were interrupted once more. “Excuse me, can I look at the Hognose snake?” You sighed, frowning softly as you stepped away. “Be right there!” You call out as you grab the keys to the enclosure. “Duty calls.” You said, playfully sending Taeyong a salute. You turn away to help out the customer but after a few steps you look back at Taeyong, “Also! Taeyong!” He was smiling to himself until he heard your voice, he raised his head, looking over at you with a curious glance. “Hm?” he asked. “Text me your Animal Crossing code.”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　 

AHHH this is my first scenario I’m posting! I’m really nervous! I hope you guys liked it! I worked really hard and tried my best to edit it but if there are some mistakes I’m really sorry! Thank you so much for reading! :) - Mel

[pollylynn]

Title: The Glass Cell WC: 1600

“You know reality isn’t fiction, right?”  — Dr. Clark Murray, A Death in the Family (1 x 10)

She wears a dress of her mom’s to prom, he decides. He imagines it in detail—cut-work lace over taffeta in bright emerald green, a satin empire waist band a shade darker, a full A-line skirt. He envisions her with mismatched quasi-punky hair hanging down to half hide her dramatic eye-makeup. She stands out, of course. In a sea of off-the-shoulder, halter neck, heavy fabrics in primary colors—crayon red, royal blue, black, black, white, white, red again, with an ill-advised plunge neckline. She stands out. 

She likes her date, though she doesn’t exactly let him know that. He imagines that, too. She doesn’t exactly let anyone know that she likes this boy on the verge of being a man, because she’s not sure that she’s supposed to. He’s quiet and sensitive. Not a dork—not outright unpopular, but a dark horse candidate for asking her in the first place, and her unexpected, unhesitating yes had sent shockwaves through the eleventh grade. 

She is awkward on the dance floor. She is a vision in her mother’s dress, but there is architecture to it. There is a hidden foundation that requires time travel of her ribs, her spine, her hips, and her date—the boy on the verge of being a man—has no idea where to put his hands during the slow songs. She has no idea where to put hers, so she locks her fingers behind his neck. She breathes Let’s get out of here well before Boyz II Men get to the spoken-word part, and they do. 

They race across the ballroom with their fingers linked, laughing like fools. They leave her friends, his friends, the tiny intersection of their friends to gawp as they bang through the double doors.They roam the streets around the hotel in a spiral pattern, talking and talking. 

She shivers and pulls the cream-colored silk-and-seed-pearl wrap close around her. With well-intentioned gallantry, he tries to drop his tuxedo jacket over her shoulders. He misses, and they both watch in horror as the long tails drag through something nameless and awful before he can catch it. 

The hem of her dress is dirty and her mom’s dyed-to-match pumps with their rhinestone butterfly clips will never be the same. But they share french fries at a nameless diner. They share a tentative kiss in the back of a cab as the boy escorts her home. They share a burning, frenzied, back-against-the-glass follow-up in the doorway of her apartment as the sun comes up. 

She misses curfew by a lot. Her mom brings her coffee and toast in bed long after morning has tipped over into afternoon. She asks a million impertinent questions about the boy she likes, about the evening, about her plans to save up for what should be an astonishing dry cleaning bill. 

This is how it happens. This is what he decides. 

**********************

She sprains her ankle on move-in day. He knows. He sees clearly how the events unfold. 

She has a plan. She has keys in hand by 8:01 am. She has a spot for the van with her things, hardly a block away, and her second-hand office chair can serve as a makeshift dolly. She has almost nothing. It’ll be two dozen quick trips, she figures, but the apartment is full of junk. 

Oh yeah, the creepy building manager tells her, last guy skipped out. 

The junk is her problem, apparently. Her problem. She plumps down on some kind of ottoman and immediately regrets it as an oily smell rises up. It’s not just the ottoman, though. The whole place reeks of food and animal fat. She registers the distant clatter of dishes, of silverware, and the hiss of a hot grill rising up through the floor. 

She props her elbows on her knees and her chin on her fists. She wastes ten precious minutes of the three hours before she has to have the van back contemplating the space that is smaller, dingier, filthier than the unit she saw when she signed the lease. 

She hauls herself up and lugs the ottoman and a broken laundry basket full of dirty t-shirts with her down to the dumpster. She bumps milk crates full of electronics odds and ends down the stairs. She carries awkward lamps like jousting lances. 

It’s a box of kitchen things that does her in. It’s a mile wide and heavy. She knows she should unpack and repack it. She should make two trips, three, four, but she’s tired of this. She misses a step. She goes down to the landing. She can feel the rush of heat into the ankle she has wrenched badly. 

There’s a neighbor—a pair of neighbors—who hear the commotion. They rescue her, Cleo and Pete, who are just a little older than she is. They extricate her from underneath the box. They help her into their apartment and give her an ice pack. They give her a stiff drink and an ace bandage. 

They share stories about the guy who skipped out in the middle of the night—his questionable activities and his even more questionable taste in music. They order pizza and won’t take her money when she offers. The three of them agree that the building manager almost certainly collects clown paintings by serial killers. 

They insist that she spend the night on their couch. She protests. She tries to put weight on her ankle, then gives in. She spends her first night not in her first apartment staring at a ceiling that belongs to strangers with tears leaking from the corners of her eyes because her fucking ankle hurts. Because she doesn’t have the money to pay for another day of the damned van. Because her mother is dead and she is alone in the world. 

He knows all this. He sees it clearly. 

************************

He cannot picture the shadows on her skin in that basement room. He sees the backs of his own hands criss-crossed infinitely with weak, unflattering light coming in through the cage. But he cannot see hers. Would her fingernails be as neat and no-fuss as they are today, or would they have been ragged with the pain of all the long years before she made it that far? 

Would she—and the possibility is like a lattice work of burning hot ice spreading through him from the inside—would she have gotten the chain for her mother’s ring when she first put on the uniform? Was there a time in that dingy apartment—in her college days with her dad drowning and her left wrist as yet bare—was there a time when when she would have slipped it on her finger each morning instead of ducking her head to let the delicate links of a think gold chain slither down over her collar bones?

He doesn’t know, any more than he knows if she would have risked the rickety table with its hard, back-breaking chair. He cannot say whether she would have waited for the most desolate hour each possible night, then set to work right where he did, or if she would have, instead, arranged herself on the cracked tile floor, knees drawn up and hunched over the tight beam of a penlight. 

He looks for signs of her in the creases and ragged edges, the rusty indentation of an ancient paperclip removed and replaced, the corner of a thin stack torn away along with a now-missing staple in a moment of frustration. He scours the faded, triple-carbon paperwork and holds the glossy, terrible photos at an oblique angle to the light from his desk lamp, the light from his computer screen. In the riot of smudged, overlapping fingerprints he wonders which might be hers. 

It’s no use, this afterthought of a search. She is nowhere. There is no detail remembered from his own few hours spent in that basement room, no physical trace of her presence in the file itself that sparks the rush of absolute clarity with which he envisions her at the junior prom, her on move-in day at that first three-story walk-up that smelled of chicken wings. 

She is nowhere, because he has never once bothered to imagine her—not once. He relives the abrupt sting of her rapped out pair of questions—You don’t think I’ve haven’t been down there? You don’t think I haven’t memorized every line in that file? He sits, staring at the file now with tide of shame advancing, receding, advancing. 

He didn’t think. In all these weeks, he has not once thought about the space between the wound delivered and the scars she bears. He has not once thought about the dreams she must have cast off, what it must have cost her to forge a path to that basement room. He has not once considered what those long years must have been like. He has never stopped to ask himself how the woman she is now—the relentless, fiercely intelligent, extraordinary woman he has come to know—could ever have come to accept her mother’s death as a random, wayward event.

He thinks now. He asks himself now. He tries, now, to picture the shadows on her skin, the tense outline of her body and the tight beam of a penlight. He tries to imagine that lonely work, but he can’t. 

She is gone from him. She is nowhere.  A/N: This is an especially weird not!thing. I had to decide that Castle has the actual Johanna Beckett file that he’s taken, not just copies. That doesn’t make much sense, but the autopsy photos look to be originals, complete with labels and handling wear. Fixation on those details is just a distraction from how not a thing this is. 

images via homeofthenutty

[lanaisnotwool]

397 Financial Collapse from Scarcity

Visit:

http://moneyripples.com/2020/06/11/397-financial-collapse-from-scarcity/

Listen to our Podcast:

https://www.blogtalkradio.com/moneyripples/2020/05/07/397--what-is-causing-a-financial-collapse

Hello, my fellow Ripplers! This is Chris Miles. Your Cash flow Expert and Anti-financial Advisor. Welcome you out for another show. It's for you and about you. Those who work so hard for your money, and if you're ready for your money, start working harder for you now. You want that freedom. That cash flow. That prosperity today. Not 30 or 40 years from now, but right now. So you work because you want to. So you can do what you love. With those you love whenever you want to. But it's more than just your own fun and comfort and convenience and becoming rich and things like that. We're not talking about driving extravagant cars and yachts and airplanes and things like that. We're talking about having a life that really has meaning. A life of freedom and prosperity for yourself and your family that creates a legacy beyond you. A legacy of abundance and prosperity, not of scarcity.But even more so, it creates a ripple effect through the community and the lives of those that you touch. That you're allowed to bless more lives because you are a Rippler. Out there creating a ripple effect by doing good in the world. You guys, we need more of you than ever. And I'm so excited to be on this bandwagon with you guys, be able to join it on this cause. To be a ripple or to create a ripple effect through you. And I can't tell you how grateful I am that you guys have been a part of this movement. Again, not just because you guys are listening to the show. And I see that the show is growing every week, but on top of that, it's actually incredible to see and hearing the stories you guys come out with.You know, like when I hear people say, Hey, just listen to your show. I found 2000 a month. Or, Hey Chris, like, Hey, I'm starting to do some of these things right now. And I'm now creating a ripple effect. Or, I'm teaching my kids and, and that kind of stuff lights me up guys, because all the pain and the hassle that I went through for years, right? Especially during the last recession. You know, all that time. I remember thinking, man, all this pain I'm going through being over a million dollars in debt, you know, learning how to retire twice. They do it a second time to make it work again. Make sure that these principles are proven to be true. And I remember thinking, if I could just help one person because of the things I'm going through, that would be worth it. And guys, you guys are into the thousands and tens of thousands. And I know this ripple effects gone way beyond that too. And so I'm grateful to be a part of this. Thank you so much.Hey, as quick reminder, check out our website, MoneyRipples.com. There's good stuff on there. Check it out.Okay. Today guys, like I know I just kinda went on a little gratitude rant and I hope you don't mind because I am grateful for you guys. But I want to talk about things that have been on my mind lately, especially with everything going on. Right? You know, the thing I see that there's so many, so much speculation, so many people are like, they want like, you know, a prophet to come out and say, here's what's going to happen. Right? Here's what's going to happen with this or with that or whatever, and sure I've got some things right. Like things that I've been saying that come true. Even when I've talked about before I said, Hey guys, get those lines of credit open and get the cash out now.Wells Fargo just last week announced they're shutting down lines of credit, like including home equity lines of credit. Bank of America said the same thing. The bigger banks already doing it and guaranteed the smaller banks will file a suit. Right? Those are things that I've said. But I want to go deeper. I want to go into, what's really the danger here because everybody's talking about a stupid virus, you know, and they're talking about this and that. And yeah, I get it. It's rough and it's not nice. You know, it's not pleasant, especially for some people, you know, I'll tell you though, prosperity can never be lived in fear. You cannot expect to live in fear and prosper and be abundant. You can't be an abundant when you have feared scarcity in your life. Fear and scarcity and doubt, and all these things only drives money away from you. Drives prosperity away for you.You want to talk about prosperity guys. I'm not just talking about making a lot of money. I'm mostly talking about happiness, joy, meaningful relationships in your life with your family or loved ones, you know, mental health, right? All of these things are part of the same whole. These are true principles. Whether you want them to work or not, they work. So even if you say, Hey, I don't believe in them. It doesn't matter. They're going to work anyways, or they're going to work against you either way. And so there's something that I fear a lot more than a virus right now. In fact, honestly the virus to me is not that scary. You know, I know some of you guys will be ticked by me saying that, I'm sorry. You know, I'll come out and say it. I don't wear masks because I don't feel the need to. Plus there's nobody really around me anyways.So, other than my family, my 5 million kids. Right. But the truth is I'm not going out in public that much anyways. But you know what? I choose not to live in that fear. Now, that doesn't mean I don't respect. And I want people to be kept safe. Especially if they're older, they're immune to compromise. I get that. But here's the thing guys, is that when it comes to prosperity, you cannot live a life hiding. You cannot live your life. Just hunkered down in a hole. I have friends in Spain right now. Guys. I got friends in Spain right now that have been quarantined for months. For over a month and a half now. And guess what? The numbers are barely started to decrease. It didn't take two weeks. Remember, we're suppose to be two weeks in quarantine and then we're supposed to be fine, right? It didn't take that much time, but now there's more fear going on.Now. Finally, they're actually able to go on little walks without a dog. They can go more than 10 meters away from their house now, but only for a few hours, like for an hour or two a day, you know, that's it. And that's going to get better. But guys, the thing that's in a danger or country is not a virus. It's not about whether or not you're going outside with a mask or not. That's not what's in trouble right now. The true thing that's the trouble is SCARCITY. As I said, scarcity drives away money. It drives away resource. It drives away happiness, joy. It drives away people. That scarcity is a disease. That is a virus that keeps coming back. And it has been since the beginning of time. That is something that's destroying much, much more. It's destroying governments. It's destroying jobs. It's destroying people.People are giving into scarcity. There's more people dying here in the state of Utah from suicides. Of the increased number of suicides and our deaths from a virus, right? There's way more deaths from that. From drug overdoses and things of that nature. Guys, the real thing that kills us, the real scare here is OUR MINDS. You know, and I'll tell you, there's two primary things with scarcity that I'm worried about. One is a concept called learned helplessness. Now I remember taking my psychology classes in college and maybe you guys did too, is that they did a study. They said, all right, we're going to take a dog. Right. And this is back before, before we had PETA, right? This is back before those days when they protected animals, but they took a dog and they had a floor and there was a little separation between the two floors, right?So one side they could have electrified. So they had like a little kind of cage that they could electrify the floor. On the other side of this little mini wall, is this like a short little wall that you could hop over. There's another side of that electrocute as well. So of course they won't, just like with Pavlov's experiment with ringing the bell, they said, Hey, let's see what happens if we shocked the floor. So they shock floor in the dog. And naturally the dog jumps over to the other side to get relief. It wants to avoid the pain. They said, all right, we'll shock. The other side. He was shocked the other side and jumped right back over. They said, look at this, we're manipulating a dog. Look, what a bunch of chipped bullies.So anyways, they started doing this and then they said, Hey, let's test this out. What would happen if we shock both sides at the same time? So kind of the "Dang if you do, Dang if you don't" that scenario. Right? So they shocked both sides. The dog hops over realized that shocked over. It hops back over again, hops back, back and forth a few times. And after realizes that no matter where it goes, it's going to be shocked. It went to a corner and it started penal over itself. It got to a point where it said, why should I keep jumping? And so it stopped. And it just sat there shivering, right? Obviously this is really cruel treatment. It makes you feel for the dog obviously, or the dogs. They probably I'm sure they did some more than one. So anyways, that concept that came out of that was called learned helplessness, which comes from the whole "Dang if you do, Dang if you don't" right? I'm editing this to keep this PG.But that's true. What it truly is, is it's trying to say that many cases, we think if there's no hope, right? There's no way out, many guys might feel this way about your own money. Anyways, some of you guys might be thinking, Hey, I just started going ahead. And then all this crap hits the fan and now I'm right back in a struggle. Right? And I get that, you know, some of you thinking like, Oh, I was just about to retire and then bam! There went my stocks, you know, they're on my mutual funds. Right? And all that kind of stuff.That's the kind of thing we're talking about with learned helplessness is that when people start to believe that no matter what they do, when no matter what choice they make, they're doomed. That they're doomed to a life of misery or the doom to a life of lack. You know, lack of money, lack of joy, lack of time, whatever that might be. That is what I mean by learn helplessness. That right there guys, there's a lot of that happening right now. People think, Oh, we just came out of recession, you know, over a decade ago, now we're going into another one, possibly even a depression. What's the use, right? And when people get depressed, they start doing crazy things. We've already seen this, right. We've already seen some craziness happen. I mean, you know, you're hearing stories about people clapping for their balconies when people get arrested on the streets because they want out, you know, we get that. I get why you'd feel that way, you know? But we start to realize that, you know, when you get into a weird place, especially when it's a place of scarcity, when you're feel like there's a scarce amount of freedom, right? There's a scarce amount of time or scarce amount of resources or whatever it might be. Scarce amount of air to breathe, right? Whatever that might be like, that's where you start to have issues. And that's when you start to make really bad decisions.Guys, I was this way, even just in the last recession, I was thinking like, man, no matter what I'm doing, it used to be. I thought, whatever I touched turned to gold. But then when I got humbled. By the other circumstances, I started thinking, man, no matter what I do, it seems like I'm failing. And that's a bad, deep, dark place to be in. Like, I remember just being in that place thinking, Oh my goodness, how am I going to get out of this mess? Right. And that's a hard place to be. So be aware of that. The other one I would be aware of now is also entitlement.Entitlement is very much a scarcity driven type of emotion and belief even, right? We're already seeing this right now. Like there's a family member that recently absolutely despises government money. And so he got a stimulus check, right? You know, I wasn't fortunate to get a stimulus check, but that's fine. You know, but he got a stimulus check and he's like, Oh! I hate that. They sent me this check. And then when he was asked, are you going to give it back to the government? He's like, Oh no, no, I'm going to spend it. And there's a lot of people thinking that somehow the government should bill them out. Like they are somehow responsible for the freedom or have even the key to their freedom. And so they start thinking they're entitled to it. Hey, you know what? I'm entitled that somebody should pay my rent for me because I didn't do this.This isn't my fault. Guys, life happens. You're not entitled to squat. You don't deserve anything. The only thing you deserve is to align yourself with principles, follow them and then accept the consequence. Good or bad. So for example, you know, like I know that if I create value for people inevitably prosperity follows, you know, and it's not just money, you know, sometimes it's appreciation sometimes it's love, you know, other times it's just, you know, the fact that the joy that I have, that I know I'm blessing lives, that personal fulfillment, right? There's lots of ways you can get paid from creating value. That is true principle. And always has been, always, will be since the beginning of time and will be till the end of time, right? Those kinds of things are true. I'm not entitled to anything. I just create as much karma as I can in my favor.And then I let the principals govern and the consequences follow. That's all it is guys. It's purely just about that. It's how we let those consequences follow, doing good, doing, you know, following your line, yourselves, the principles. When I violate principles, especially if it's consistent, I will get a result. The results usually not prosperity. It's usually in becoming impoverished. You know, that's the thing. And that's why you always got to check yourself with the emotions and the belief that you have. Guys. You're not entitled to give them money. In fact, the one thing I'm worried about is that when people start becoming entitled to that money, then they believe that somehow people got bailed them out and they stop producing. They stop being creators. They start becoming consumers and creators are what drives this economy. You want anything to be resolved? If you want true prosperity for a whole society, we've got to go from a place of consumerism, to a place of being a creator. We gotta be in a creative mindset. Otherwise it doesn't work.So guys, that's my thing. I want you guys to really take this in depth. Avoid the entitlement, avoid feeling helpless because there always is hope. I am telling you guys there's many of us prospering right now. Not because we're just got lucky, but because we follow and align ourselves with principles. You do that. You become a master and a student of those principles. And many of these episodes in the show talk about many of them. If you do that prosperity will inevitably follow, one way or the other. And I remember it happened to me in 2009, August, 2009. I remember I released myself. I said, God, I submit myself to you. I know that I've been going through this for the last year and a half the struggle. Right? Really. It felt like the last two years I was going through that struggle of scarcity.And I finally just said, listen, I know these principles work. They're from you. I'll just follow them. I don't care if it takes 20 years, I will keep following these principles so that I know they have to work. And you know what happened, guys? It was after I got to that place of submission, that place where I was able to just say, you know what, I'm okay. I'm going to keep doing what I know is right. And let the consequence follow. That is exactly when by October, just two months later, that's when everything turned around for me and I started to pull myself out of that hole. Guys, these things work get to a place of hope, get to a place of abundance and prosperity and watch what will happen. Your life will be drastically different than the lives of those out there. And around you in the world today, if the world could just hold onto this and truly grasp this. Guys, most of these problems that are in the media right now, the media wouldn't have that much to report. They would just come up with crap, which they already do anyways. But guys give them something new to report on. Do and be something better. That is my challenge for you guys today. I hope we make it a wonderful and prosperous week. We'll see you later.

[karmaistheguyonthe1975]

Yeah? Yeah.

Heyyyyyyy this is my gift for @coniello​, who I got in the @sincerely-us​ gift exchange! Sorry I’m posting this so late in the day. The prompt was Evan and Jared going on a road trip, but they’re in a fight so they kinda have to bond again. It was fun to write! 

This weekend was going to be... less than ideal, to say the very least. It was supposed to be fun, according to both Evan and Jared’s mothers, and according to the two boys themselves up until a few months ago.

A trip to a waterpark, the same one where they had shared their sixth birthday party, that had been planned for a year. But now, due to f**k-ups on both their parts, they had barely spoken a word to each other in over two months. A small fight over what movie to watch had turned into a shouting match that brought up every disagreement they had had for the past five years.

Of course, they could hardly tell that to their mothers. So there they were, stuck next to each other in a car for two and a half hours and facing two nights in a hotel room together. On top of that, they couldn’t ignore each other. They had to act as if they were still best friends. G r e a t.

The air between them was thick, and you could practically cut the tension with a knife. Both boys were desperate for some opportunity to relieve it, but unsure of how to.

‘I’m sorry,’ Evan typed into his notes, drafting a message that was likely never going to be sent. ‘I shouldn’t have said anything that I did, and I shouldn’t have accused you of lying about your camp friends. I’m sorry I’ve been forcing my presence on you throughout high school, I know you really don’t want to hang out with me, which is understandable. So yeah... I’m sorry.’

He copy-pasted it into his messages with Jared, staring at the send button and running through every situation he could think of if he sent it and if he didn’t.

Then something popped up on the screen: a meme. From Jared.

Evan deleted his message, instead sending a simple ‘Was that supposed to go to me?’

‘yes?’ Jared replied. ‘who else would it have gone to’

‘Oh... Aren’t you mad still?’

‘arent u?’

Evan glanced over at him, a confused look on his face. ‘No? I’m the one who messed up.’ He heard Jared snort a little.

‘havent changed at all i see. u arent the only one who messed up’

‘Jared, I accused you of lying about your camp friends purely because I was jealous of them.’

‘just shut up we both did a Big No accept it’

Evan laughed out loud. ‘I’m just... still sorry.’

‘well stop. like now’

Evan looked over and smiled at him. ‘Fine.’

Jared smirked back, but there was no trace of malice in it. ‘loser,’ he replied.

The rest of the three-hour drive was filled with memes, small-talk, and laughing, and, although it was slightly awkward, neither boy had been happier in a while.

“Okay, boys,” Heidi sighed once they were at the doors of the hotel rooms, trying to support the weight of her packed bags. “Make sure you don’t go to bed too late and meet us in the lobby for breakfast at...” She looked around, waiting for someone else to suggest a time.

“Nine?” Mrs. Kleinman offered.

“Yes, nine,” Heidi confirmed. “That sound good?”

“Yeah,” Evan replied. “Thanks, Mom.” Jared just finger-gunned.

“See you in the morning,” Ms. Kleinman said, opening the door of the room that she and Heidi were sharing.

“See ya!” Jared called, swinging into his own room and pulling Evan in by the elbow.

Evan leaned against the door uncomfortably, biting his lip and looking anywhere other than Jared’s eyes. The car was much easier than this. He could easily avoid eye-contact in the car, only having to look ahead, or out the window. “So...” he tried. “How are you?” Mentally, he scolded himself. God, that was such a stupid question. “I mean like how have you been? Because obviously we’ve been talking for a while and I know... s**t sorry, I’m bad at this.”

Jared laughed and threw himself into the crappy hotel room couch. “Evan, chill out,” he said. “Like seriously.”

“Right,” Evan mumbled. “Sorry- I mean, um...”

“I get it,” Jared interrupted, holding out his hand. “Do you like... want to put your s**t down and sit? You’re allowed to do that.”

Evan looked down and realized he was indeed still holding his bags, suddenly becoming aware of the ache in his arms. “Oh, right.” He placed his bags in a neat pile by the beds, a contrast to the haphazardly stacked ones that Jared had merely tossed onto the bed he’d claimed as his own. He still didn’t sit, though, even when Jared gestured questioningly at the couch.

“Made a college decision yet?” Jared asked. “You didn’t know, last we talked.”

Evan nodded. “I’m gonna take a year to save up, then I’m probably going to do some kind of biology, maybe. Staying close to home, though. You were gonna go... somewhere in Montana, right?”

“Montana State,” Jared agreed. “Computer science. I got a s**t-ton of scholarships, too.” Although you wouldn’t guess it upon first, second, or third impressions of him, Jared was freakishly smart, maintaining a 4.0 in high school despite sleeping through class 50% of the time and regularly skipping.

Evan smiled. “That’s- I’m really happy for you, that’s really great.”

“It’s school,” Jared grumbled. “I don’t know why I’m paying to go. I should be paid to go.”

As Jared complained, his face shifted into a childish frown. The expression reminded Evan of when they were in middle school, including some, ahem, certain feelings that tended to pop up when a hormonal and bisexual 8th grader had a smart, funny... kind of cute-

Oh, S**T! Evan thought. Those feelings we’re supposed to have been kicked to curb years ago. But apparently not.

“Ev,” Jared called, snapping his fingers. “Earth to acorn.”

Evan looked at him (well, more like started paying attention to him. He had been staring after all). “Yeah? Sorry, I, um... I zoned out. Sorry.”

“You were staring at me,” Jared informed bluntly. “I mean, who could blame you, I am gorgeous, but-”

“No I wasn’t!” Evan lied.

“You were.”

“No!”

“Fine then, keep your crush repressed,” Jared teased, both projecting onto Evan and being characteristically oblivious.

Evan turned pink. “I...”

Jared cracked up. “You’re such a dork!” he wheezed.

“I am not!” Evan protested. “You’re the dork.”

In response, Jared held up a finger as he dug through his pockets, finally pulling out a crumpled yellow card. “Uno reverse card,” he smirked.

“You-” Evan said. “You just keep that in your pocket?!”

“Yep,” Jared replied, popping the p.

Finally, Evan sat on the couch, although he remained tense. “I like hanging out with you,” he mumbled, having a momentary burst of courage that left him with immense amounts of regret. “Oh my God, that was so weird, I’m sorry! I just meant like, you know-”

“Evan,” Jared said, trying to stop the word vomit.

“Because we fought and we have talked in months I just missed you, you know? And I-”

“Evan!” Jared repeated, louder, which successfully silenced him. “I know what you mean. You don’t have to explain yourself. I missed you too. I shouldn’t have been such an a*shole during high school.”

Evan smiled weakly. “It’s okay.”

Jared smiled back. “Star Wars?” he asked.

“Oh God,” Evan laughed. “We haven’t watched those since we hung out every weekend in 8th grade.”

“You haven’t,” Jared corrected. “I’m not a heathen, I still watch them regularly.”

“Whatever. Let’s do it.”

One movie later, they had assumed a position in which Jared’s head was resting on Evan’s shoulder and their hands were touching in an effort to make the computer stay steady. Jared stretched a little and looked up at Evan, who had a slight glow surrounding his head from the lights shining through his blond hair. Would it be gay to kiss him? Jared asked himself. YES IT WOULD BE GAY, IDIOT!

Holy s**t, he was actually considering this. He had never been known for being open with his feelings, opting instead for sudden outbursts and passive-aggressive remarks. But lately, he had been doing better. He wasn’t as mean, at least, and slightly less scared of feelings. “Evan...?” he said finally, an audible shake in his voice.

“Yeah?” Evan asked, staring at the space between Jared’s eyes, which was the closest he could comfortably get to eye-contact.

Jared’s hands began to shake slightly, never a good sign. “Can I... s**t...”

Evan moved so he was entirely sat up, taking hold of Jared’s forearm to calm him down. “Jared,” he murmured. “Breathe.” Panic attacks, and the preceding moments, were something that Evan had more experience with than he would care to admit. But in situations like this is was undeniably helpful to know how to deal.

Jared frantically searched Evan’s face for a sign of... something. His eyes moved like those of a caged animal, darting back and forth, even though his body was frozen. Finally, possessed by some other force, he pressed his lips up against Evan’s, staying stiffly there for a moment before realizing what he had done and pulling away.

Evan stared blankly at him for a moment, entirely dumbfounded, before leaning down to repeat it. Jared kissed back momentarily, but pulled away and looked down after a minute.

“Sorry,” Evan muttered. “I shouldn’t have... I didn’t mean to... crap, I messed this all up, didn’t I?”

Jared distanced himself from Evan, giving him a few inches of space. After a few moments of silence, he spoke quietly. “Was that okay?”

“Was it okay with you?” Evan responded, his usual stutter gone and replaced by a shaky, quiet tone.

“If it was with you... yeah.”

“It was,” Evan replied hesitantly.

���Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Jared looked over at him, biting his lip to refrain from a hopeful smile. He placed his hand half of the distance between them, letting Evan decide whether or not to take it.

Evan moved his hand to cover Jared’s. “Yeah?” he asked, repeating Jared’s question.

“Yeah,” Jared echoed.

And there they sat, comfortably silent, the same thought running through both their heads.

Maybe this trip won’t be so bad.

[obviouslyelementary]

Routine - Reddie

This fanfic is for my friend @kourank-nerdyrobots because they are a cutie I love you <3

--------------------------------

Before Derry, before receiving that dreadful call from Mike just before his show, getting sick and having to cancel it; before going back to Derry, remembering his own friends, eating some delicious Chinese food and getting spooked by lucky biscuits; before finding out that Stan, one of his best friends in the world, killed himself out of fear of what could come; after almost giving up on all his friends, almost leaving to probably have the same fate as Stan, and then coming back and helping them defeat the motherfucking evil clown shit; before all that, his routine was simple.

He had never been a guy to care much for his health. He started smoking as soon as he got into high school, probably out of Beverly's influence; he drank a lot of booze during college, enough to leave any sane six foot guy turned over with extreme nausea; his bathroom was the cleanest part of his flat, which was awful because it was always dirty and disgusting and as soon as he got enough money the first thing he used it for was to hire a clean up lady at least once a week; and he ate way too much fast food and noodles, more than he would ever admit.

And after he became famous, rich, and started to do shows all the time, it got even worst. His routine went from lazy college student to rich asshole. He barely cooked any food, always preferring to ask from a restaurant nearby. He went out for drinks all the time with his manager or his friends from work, which also added to his liver problem later on. Nothing he couldn't manage, but he could have avoided some runs to the hospital if he had drank one beer less or something. He also never stopped smoking, although he did hide it after the 2000s because people didn’t think it was cool anymore, and his drinking habits got worst and worst, not to the point of no return, but certainly more than he would have ever wanted it to. And of course, he either slept two hours each night or twelve, which also wasn't good for any human being.

Basically, he continued being the mess he had always been, but worst, since he didn’t have anyone to correct his ways, or try to. All his friends fed into his addictions without any solution, and thus he didn't care about his well being at all. He had always been bad at taking care of himself.

But then, Derry came. And with Derry, something magical happened. Something beyond Richie's wildest expectations.

And now, oh now his routine was awfully different.

Now, apart from days after shows, he tended to wake up around eight o'clock, nine the latest if he had had a rough time sleeping the night prior. He made the bed, fed the dog, the cat, and changed into sweatpants and a tank top for a quick run around the neighborhood. It usually lasted from twenty minutes to forty, depending on how much he was feeling it in the day, but he found that time enough to keep himself in shape. He would return home, let the cat wonder in the backyard while he walked the dog around the block, and then he would return, put the cat and dog inside, and head for a shower.

After a shower, he would change into comfy clothes and make himself some breakfast. He would open the windows and let the air inside, even if it was raining because it felt good, and he would eat breakfast while checking some news on his phone or some comments on his work. When he was finished, he would wash the dishes and head to his office or bring his PC to the living room, sit on the couch and work on his scripts for the next shows he had in mind. He would work until around two, when he would get up and either cook some lunch or ask something somewhat healthy for himself. He would also feed the dog and cat again, and play with them a little while he waited for the food to arrive, or after he ate his lunch. Then, he would lay down on the couch, and the pets would lay around him usually, the dog next to the couch and the cat behind his legs, and he would watch a game or some TV series he liked for around an hour or so, so then he could go back to work.

The routine was neat and simple, and he actually loved it. Richie never thought he would become what sexist men called a 'caged animal', but truly that was the best way of life. He was able to do everything he enjoyed without getting stressed, and he had plenty of time to relax and play with the pets or just be lazy around the house. And then, he just had to wait for night to come, to cook some dinner for two.

Oh yes, two. Around seven he would begin to make dinner, something simple and sweet, maybe some wine to go with it or just some juice or soda, nothing big. He found out that he loved cooking, specially when someone else would enjoy it with him. It felt so nice, to do something so simple and yet so sweet to someone he loved so much.

Richie usually knew when someone arrived, because doggie Stan got mad about it, barking and wiggling his little tail all over the place. Specially when it was his daddy who was coming home. Richie always cooed at him because he too could feel his own imaginary tail wiggling. He was completely in love, and he couldn't really deal with it very well yet.

That particular night, he decided to make some simple chicken with potatoes for dinner, and while they were in the oven, he came home. Stan started barking like a mad dog, running to the door with his tiny paws making sweet sounds on the wooden floor, and as the door opened Richie saw the briefcase being placed down and the puppy being picked up. Fuck. Richie felt like he was thirteen and stupid every time.

"Hello Stanny, how was your day? Did daddy take care of you? I bet he did" Eddie said, standing by the door with his fancy suit and his sweet smile as he kissed and petted the little puppy dog, letting him lick his face just a little. "Awn I missed you too honey, I missed you too."

From the depths of the house, a loud meow was heard, and Eddie laughed as he got inside the house, closing and locking the door behind himself and letting Stan down to the floor. He pet him once more and then focused on the cat, who walked to him slowly, tail high in the air, meowing like crazy.

"I missed you too honey, come here" Eddie cooed, and the cat meowed louder, standing in front of him and then jumping up to his arms. Eddie laughed and held the cat close, hugging it gently, petting it slowly. "Yes I missed you too Penny... yes I did" he said, kissing her head while she meowed and rubbed her cheek against his, making him chuckle with fondness. He pet her a little more and put her on the ground, before looking up again and smiling. "Oh. You're here too then."

Sometimes Richie forgot he even existed when Eddie got in the room.

"I sure am. You know I never leave the house anyway" Richie said with a chuckle, and Eddie rolled his eyes with a fondness that made Richie's heart almost combust. Eddie took off his suit, the tie and undid a few buttons to make himself more comfortable, before he walked all the way to Richie and looked down at him.

"I smell chicken" he said, and Richie nodded.

"Yeah that's what they say I smell like" he said, and Eddie let out a chuckle and shook his head before leaning further down, tilting his head and oh.

Richie would never get used to it.

The kiss lasted a second and Richie still managed to blush somehow. Eddie pulled back, stretched and yawned, before turning around and taking the clothes he had removed.

"I'm going to take a shower and I will be right back" he said, leaving the room and walking inside, and Richie just watched him, wondering for the ten billionth time how the hell he had managed to be this happy. He didn't know, but he sure as fuck loved it.

When Eddie returned, now with sweatpants and one of Richie's large merch shirts, looking all comfy and smelling so good, they sat down for dinner and talked about their days. Eddie fed the animals and cleaned up their duties while Richie washed the dishes, and they went to the couch to enjoy some time together, watching some movie or series they liked. Richie sat down on the couch with Eddie between his legs and they talked about a bunch of nothings, and sometimes they kissed, and it felt fucking amazing.

Then, Eddie would get tired and they would go to sleep, and sometimes they would have sex and sometimes they would just talk or sometimes they would just sleep, but it still felt nice, in the same amazing way.

And in the next day, everything would repeat itself: waking up, jogging, cooking, working, cooking, spending time with Eddie, and this routine seemed... perfect.

Richie never thought he was a man of routine, but honestly, he loved it.

He simply loved it.