#I think I’ve seen it called forbidden fruit | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 11 months ago

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Napoleonville [Chapter 1: The Fall-Down House]

Series Summary: The year is 1988. The town is Napoleonville, Louisiana. You are a small business owner in need of some stress relief. Aemond is a stranger with a taste for domination. But as his secrets are revealed, this casual arrangement becomes something more volatile than either of you could have ever imagined.

Chapter Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), dom/sub dynamics, alligators, kids, parenthood, smoking, cupcakes!

Word Count: 7.2k (she's very chonky for a first chapter).

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Since this is the first chapter of a new series, I'm going to tag a bunch of usual readers, but I won't tag you again unless you want me to. 💜

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“What do you want to do to me?” you whisper through the phone, stretched out across your bed like a cat as George Michael’s Faith plays from the baby pink Panasonic boombox out in the kitchen. It’s late afternoon, and fading daylight falls in tiger stripes through the window blinds. The May air is hot, muggy, golden; cicadas hum in the southern live oaks, an ancient earthen music like rattling bones.

A few seconds pass before he can reply. It was a bold way to begin. You are admittedly a little impressed with yourself; an idea like this has been pacing around in your skull like a beast behind bars for years, but you’ve only now set it loose. “That’s difficult to explain in words,” he says; and in the low, teasing purr of his voice you can hear that your gamble paid off like striking oil. He has a British accent, which you never would have expected. You only recognize it from clips you’ve seen of Prince Charles and Princess Diana on 60 Minutes. “But I’d enjoy showing you.”

It’s laid open beside you on the bed, his personal ad in the Bayou Journal: Educated white male in his mid-20s. Single and not looking to change that. Seeking an open-minded, adventurous, and spirited lady for short-term D/s arrangement. Be prepared to answer the following riddle: I’m small but loom large, I’m Italian but French, I give away much to gain little. Who am I? Best regards, An Indecent Gentleman. “I’m waiting.”

“You understand what is meant by D/s?”

“Of course,” you say, your best feigned flippantness. You only know because Amir told you; he’s been daring you to call for three days.

“Thank God,” the man on the other end of the line sighs. There is an inhale like a drag on a cigarette. You imagine what he might look like: broad or slight, dark-haired or blonde, striking or average or homely, treacherous or safe, forbidden fruit or just plain forbidden. “I’ve had four different women ring me thinking I’m going to be their boyfriend, dinner and flowers and everything. They’re functionally illiterate down here.”

How unfortunate, you think. He’s highfalutin. But alas, no one is perfect. That’s no prohibitive obstacle. He doesn’t need to be faultless; it’s not as if you’re planning to marry the guy. “I like when someone else is in control.”

“Why?” This is a test, you can feel it. You can sense his rapt attention across the wire, through the electricity and the lush treetops and the rust-amber sky.

“I have a lot of…responsibilities in my real life,” you explain. “A lot of pressure. I make the decisions, I look out for other people. Sometimes I want to be the one who’s told what to do.”

“I can make that happen. And the riddle?”

“It’s Napoleon.”

The grin is sharp and triumphant in his voice. “Good girl.”

“He was short but an emperor. He was born in Corsica to an Italian family, but he ended up ruling over France. He sold off a bunch of French colonies to focus on conquering Europe and still couldn’t quite manage it. But the U.S.A. got this charming little corner of the world as part of the bargain.”

“You’re a historian,” the man says, sounding pleased.

“No sir, we all had to learn about him in school whether we wanted to or not.”

“Sir,” he echoes, tasting it, savoring it. You imagine a pink tongue flicking out to skate across his lips. Then he is abruptly cool, impersonal, businesslike. “Listen, I’ve got a scar down the left side of my face. It’s thin, it’s clean, but it’s noticeable. The eye is glass, although you can’t really tell unless you look closely. Is that a problem?”

A scar? Is he a veteran? A lion tamer? A motorcycle enthusiast? You try to remember what kinds of hobbies British people have. Isn’t there some kind of sport where men swing sticks around while riding horses? That sounds like it could put an eye out. Perhaps to your own surprise, you find that you are more intrigued than uneasy. Oh, you realize, dull like dawn through mist. I like him. I want him. Not just THIS, but HIM. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Brilliant. I don’t want to talk about it again.”

“That’s fine.” You hesitate. “There’s actually something I should tell you too.”

“Hm?”

The hum of his voice is arrogant, hungry. You try not to get distracted. Blood rushes hot and ashamed into your cheeks. “Um, well, uh, sometimes it’s difficult for me to…you know. Finish. Not when I’m alone, just when I’m with a guy. Especially if I’m anxious. And I don’t want to feel worried about faking it or making sure it happens or dealing with you getting offended or upset or whatever. Because it’s fine, really. It doesn’t mean I’m not having a good time. I’m just…stuck in my own head.”

There is a sound you can’t quite match to an expression, an exhale, a scoff. “Obviously I wouldn’t be mad at you. But you’ll come. I know you will. I’ll make you.”

And you’re flooded with a relief that you never dared to hope for. A confession spills out in a trembling whisper: “Please.”

“When?” he says, eager, urgent.

“I think if we don’t do it now, I’ll lose my nerve.”

There is a razor-thin pause, and then he asks for your address.

~~~~~~~~~~

You haven’t had a man in your bed in years; you are abruptly and unkindly reminded of this when you paw through the top drawer of your bedroom dresser and find only practical, deadly unsexy cotton Kmart underwear. You dash to the closet, yank open the squeaking door, and—tucked away in a cardboard box of winter clothes like sweaters and jeans, forgotten, needless—unearth a sprinkling of insubstantial silk and lace, all in luxurious gemstone hues: amethyst, ruby, sapphire, onyx, emerald.

“Oh, hallelujah.” You throw off your sunshine yellow shorts and tug on what were once upon a time your favorite panties. They don’t fit nearly as well as they used to; they fit horribly, in fact. They evaporate the thrill and leave nauseous trepidation in its place. “Oh God. Oh no. Oh no, oh no.” You steal a harried glimpse of the clunky black alarm clock on your nightstand. The flashing red numbers inform you that you have approximately ten more minutes until he arrives.

You jog pantsless to the kitchen, pour yourself a glass of sweet tea—ice cold, bright with a squeeze of lemon juice—and pace back and forth across the wooden floor as you sip it. The pine boards slope at just the slightest angle; if you laid an apple by your feet, it would roll. The house is sinking. It was built at the turn of the twentieth century, but it won’t live to see the next. Ailing sunlight casts your shadow against the wall, mint green, spider-leg cracks inching through the paint. Outside cicadas buzz and doves coo in long, mournful whirrs.

You pick up the phone—pink to match the boombox that is now playing Poison’s Nothin’ But A Good Time—next to the refrigerator and dial with one finger, your other hand still clutching the frosty glass of sweet tea. It rings twice before he answers.

“Wassup?” Amir says distractedly. You can hear a commotion from his living room on the other side of town: his grandmother squawking, ambient applause, Wheel Of Fortune.

“Quick, what should I wear?”

“Huh?”

“The guy! The guy from the ad! I called the guy! What should I be wearing when he shows up?”

Amir cackles. “Ho, you must be truly desperate, why the fuck are you asking me?” There is some shrill protestation in the background. “Grandma, don’t you dare try to act like you’ve never heard that word before, we just rented Aliens.”

“You know what men like,” you plead.

“Not the straight ones!” And then, not to you: “Grandma, calm down. Grandma, Grandma! It’s my homegirl. She has an emergency. She’s got a man coming over and she doesn’t know what to wear. What did you wear for Pop Pop? What? What?! You expect me to believe you got seven kids out of that dude with just some old floral nightgown?! Prairie girl fabulous? Looking like you’re on your way to join the Donner Party? Okay, if you say so! Phyllis knows best!” Amir’s attention returns to you. “Grandma suggests a nightgown.”

You are skeptical. “That seems slutty.”

“You’re inviting some stranger over for an all-expenses-paid ride on the Pussy Express and you’re concerned about looking slutty?!”

He has a point. “Okay. Okay. Yeah. You’re right. Okay.”

“You wear that nightgown with confidence and you take that random kinky man directly to bed, do you understand me?” Amir orders.

“Totally,” you say, gulping sweet tea with a shaking hand.

“Good luck. I gotta go, it’s the Bonus Round. Hope you have a few rounds to tell me about tomorrow.” Then he hangs up.

Back in your bedroom closet, you find a black satin slip that runs to your ankles and flows like a ballgown. You put it on some nights when you’re feeling desirable, after a bath of bubbles and steam, candles and Madonna, freshly shaved legs and shimmering with Pond’s, when you want to lounge around daydreaming, when you want to remember the fantasies you once had about what your life might turn out to be. Now you wear it in the fading daylight, nothing underneath and golden sunbeams turning your skin to something that warms and glows.

You appraise yourself in your dusty dresser mirror, and you think: Not too bad, actually. You’ve had your hair up in a haphazard bun. You reach to take it down, then stop yourself. You like the wayward wisps, the I-don’t-care-too-much casualness. Your breathing is slow and calm again. There is a noise outside: tires crunching on gravel. Your glass of sweet tea, now mostly just ice cubes, is sweating on top of your dresser. You grab the glass, swipe the Bayou Journal off your bed, and take both to the kitchen counter, still speckled with flour, powdered sugar, flecks of cinnamon. Then you pad across the sloping wooden floor in your bare feet to open the front door. Amber dusk streams in; you can hear bullfrogs croaking and the hoots of the long-eared owl that lives in the collapsing, overgrown shed behind the house. Spanish moss hangs like cobwebs, like chandeliers. The tree swing rocks idly in the breeze. The first notes of You Shook Me All Night Long play from the kitchen boombox.

His car is red, sporty, with a logo on the grill that you don’t recognize, a series of circles intertwined like rings. He cuts the engine and steps out into the driveway as you watch from behind the screen, leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed over your chest. He’s tall, trim, blonde, wearing Adidas sneakers and light-wash jeans and a Marlboro jacket that it’s far too hot for. He peers around, taking in the trees and the house through his black aviator sunglasses. He puffs one last time on a cigarette before putting it out on his own windshield and starting towards the porch. And immediately, primally, you crave him like water or air.

He climbs the groaning steps, splitting wood and rusty nails. You open the screen door to meet him in the threshold. And he takes off his sunglasses so he can look at you, stowing them in a pocket of his jacket, his gaze not wavering from yours, his lips not saying a word. Yes, he has a scar, but it doesn’t diminish him in the slightest. Yes, his left eye may be glass, but you wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t already told you. You’re too tangled up in the right. His iris is a brisk greyish blue, not like the ocean, not like the bayou, more like the sky before a hurricane, heavy with the threat of wind and rain. His face is strong, jarring, beautiful in a rare way. His full lips are curling into a grin.

At last, you speak first, an inane observation that feels somehow significant. “You found me.”

“I did.” He nods towards the large lavender sign out by the mouth of the gravel driveway. Hand-painted on it are the words Hummingbird Bakery and a logo that Amir designed, a hummingbird feeding on the frosting swirl of a cupcake as if it’s a flower flush with nectar. “You told me to look for the sign. That helped.”

“What kind of car do you drive? I don’t recognize it.”

“It’s an Audi Quattro.”

“Audi,” you repeat, like a hopelessly distant place, New York City or Los Angeles or Paris or the moon. “Is that British?”

“German, actually.”

“You’re from a very different world.”

“Yeah, I am.” His eye flicks up and down your body, black satin that curves and clings; his grin widens. “But I could learn to like yours, I think.”

You step back so he can follow you inside. The screen door shuts with a bang. Under the shadows, as the sun sets into the west, he unzips his Marlboro jacket and tosses it onto your living room couch. Underneath he wears a white t-shirt. We’re opposites, you think dazedly, wondering what he will taste like when he kisses you. He grazes his fingertips down the front of your throat, continues to your chest, stills when he hits the satin of your slip.

“You can tell me to stop whenever you want to,” he murmurs, and you breathe in his smoke and cologne and dauntless, dizzying self-assurance. “But until you say stop, I’m gonna keep going.”

Your heartbeat is drumming beneath his hand, part exhilaration and the rest nerves. You are afraid of disappointing him; you aren’t sure what to expect. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Aemond.”

Aemond. Foreign, like Audi, like Paris. You give him your own in return. He leans in, presses his hips to yours, denim and satin that you can feel his heat through. And you think he’s going to kiss your neck, or bite it, bruise it, mark it, claim it, claim you; but he only ghosts his parted lips from the edge of your jaw to your bare shoulder, inhaling slow and deep, drawing your atoms into his lungs until they tumble down the narrowest corridors and into his capillary beds, into his bloodstream. You moan softly, helplessly, and turn your face to kiss him.

“No,” Aemond growls, teasing you, catching your chin with one hand to hold you still. His other hand glides down the front of your slip and stops between your legs. Through satin the color of a starless midnight, his fingers stroke you roughly, commandingly. Animalistic yearning bolts low to weaken your knees, high to rip a gasp from your throat. “Nothing underneath,” he notes in approval.

Oh, I like him, you think, in equal parts ecstatic and petrified. I REALLY like him.

But are you going to be able to impress him too? Are you going to ruin this?

You whimper, unintentionally and almost inaudibly. Aemond is studying your face; furrows appear in his scarred brow, so faint and fleeting you might have imagined them. Then his hand retreats as he says: “Show me your toys.”

You gape up at him; this is not what you anticipated. “What?”

“I want to see how you make yourself come. You have toys, don’t you?”

“I do,” you admit, though you’ve never used them with anyone else before.

Aemond smirks mischieviously, then commands: “Show me. Right now.”

You lead him to your bedroom and slide open the middle drawer of your dresser. You glance at his reflection in the silvery glass of the mirror; he’s staring, not at your body but at your face, his gaze locked with yours, his mouth open, entranced, hungry. You move to stand against the wall, smiling sheepishly as Aemond shoves aside folded sheets and pillowcases to reveal your collection. It’s nothing too adventurous: five vibrators in different colors, styles, sizes.

“Quite the assortment,” he praises.

“They were gifts from a friend.”

Now Aemond is dubious. “A friend?”

“Don’t be jealous. He doesn’t like women.”

Aemond laughs, warm and boyish like he’s breaking character; and you are alarmed by the wave of fondness for him that crashes through you. It’s something that could pull you under. It’s something you could drown in. He picks up the largest vibrator: long, thick, pink like soft feminine vulnerability, like love. Then he is darkly, deliciously stern again. “On the bed.”

“No.” Not because you’re genuinely protesting. Because you want him to make you.

Aemond grabs you around your waist and drags you towards the bed as you squeal, giggle, fight him halfheartedly. He throws you down onto the wildflower-patterned duvet and climbs between your thighs, parting them as he pushes the hem of your black satin slip up to your waist. Abruptly, you are bare for him, exposed, fiery dusk air cool against your wetness. Aemond is still fully clothed, white shirt and pale blue jeans. He is holding your legs open with his own. You can see the bulge of his cock beneath the denim: at least as large as the vibrator and hard with insistent longing.

I want him, you think as you hear the vibrator click on. I want him, I want him…

Aemond brings the pink silicone tip to your flesh, and instantly you’re ravenous. It shocks you how much more erotic this is when someone else is holding it, when someone else has you entirely at their mercy. You cry out, loud and shameless, euphoric. Your back arches; your fingers twist into the duvet. As he presses the vibrator down more forcefully, Aemond braces his hips against yours, grinding into you through his jeans, taunting you, conquering you.

You fumble for the button and zipper of his jeans. “Please—”

“No,” Aemond snarls, beaming, snatching your hand and pinning it up by your head. His other hand is still circling your clit with the tip of the vibrator. “You haven’t earned it yet.”

“Aemond, please, I need you—”

“No,” he says, defiant. He makes the rules. He has the power; he’s in control. Suddenly, he pulls the vibrator away. You yelp in dismay. “You know,” Aemond quips cavalierly. “It’s a shame you have such a difficult time finishing when you’re with a man. I bet you’re not even close.”

“I am,” you whine, in agony, in ecstasy.

Aemond pretends to be surprised. “Hm.” He returns the vibrator to your skin, slick, hot, aching in the most wondrous way. You sigh as the pleasure surges through you, as you soar up to the previous plateau and then begin to ascend beyond it. You must have repositioned yourself without noticing; Aemond releases your hand to smack his palm against the inside of your thigh. “Keep your legs apart. I want you wide open for me.”

“I will, I promise.” I’ll do anything you tell me to.

Aemond’s hand ventures lower. Two of his fingers glide inside you and thrust in time with his hips. “Fuck,” he hisses, breaking character again; and something rocks through his shoulders, his spine, a divine temptation that he is battling.

“Aemond, more,” you plead, looking at the massive outline of his cock under his jeans.

“Not yet,” he pants, fucking you with his fingers as the vibrator hums against your clit. “You have to come for me first, baby. You have to earn it.”

And you’re close, you really are, you’re closer than you ever would have imagined you’d be with him tonight, this stranger, this elusive British man, this man from a personal ad in the Bayou Journal that you almost never replied to. Your hair has come undone and is wild around your face; your heart is pounding frantically; your skin is bathed in a sheen of victorious perspiration. When was the last time someone made you feel like this? You can’t recall; the answer might be never. There is a spellbinding, intensifying sensation of warmth, of opening, you’re only seconds from the brink, you’re ready to step off the precipice and into open blue air the same color as his eyes—

Aemond yanks the vibrator away again, grinning toothily down at you.

“No!” You scrabble for him with shaking hands, pulling yourself up as you reach for the vibrator. Aemond pushes you back onto the bed. Despite your protests, you love the feeling of his weight on top of yours; you love the organic symphony he’s built of, muscle and bone and skill and power. His fingers are still pumping in and out of you, keeping you soaked and throbbing, pinning you to the edge of an orgasm without permitting you to succumb to it.

“It’s going to be so good for you like this, baby,” Aemond insists, low and raspy. He’s reading your face, attentive to every detail, drinking up your desperate body and quivering voice. “I swear I’m not torturing you for no reason. Let me show you. Let me take care of you. When it happens, it’s going to blow your fucking mind. Are you ready?”

“Yes, now, please, do it now,” you whimper as you lie beneath him, open, bare, senseless, vanquished.

Aemond drags his tongue over the tip of the vibrator, moaning with lust as he tastes you. Then he at last presses the pink silicone to your clit once more. In your electrified nerves, in your scalding blood, there are sparks and momentum and currents rushing towards the cataclysmic breaking of a rogue wave. “Nice and slow,” Aemond murmurs. “Let it build.”

Instead of the peak, you reach another plateau, so high and so rapturous you can’t stand it, you can’t fathom climbing any farther. It’s becoming so sharp and intense it’s almost painful. Fresh anxiety flashes in your mind like lightning. The momentum begins to dissipate like dewdrops under the late-morning sun. Oh no, I’m going to lose it, I’m going to disappoint him—

Aemond lifts the vibrator off you again; before you have time to collect yourself enough to speak, to apologize, he’s slipped his fingers out of you and carefully guided the vibrator inside, stretching you, filling you, thrusting rhythmically but not too viciously or too deep. He places his thumbprint on the place where the vibrator was just seconds ago and circles quickly, once, twice, again, and then…

You try not to scream, but you can’t help it, can’t stop it; the climax wrenches out of you indescribable pleasure, vanished fears, awe and relief, twisted muscles and gasping breaths, every electrical impulse of every atom, and each time you believe it’s over it rolls a little farther like an endless summer afternoon. When it’s done—truly done—you aren’t sure exactly how it happens but suddenly you’re sitting upright on the bed and the vibrator is lying forgotten on top of the duvet and Aemond is laughing, kissing you—sweat and nicotine, smoke and salt—and caressing your face with his hands, saying: “You were such a good girl. You did amazing. I’m so proud of you.”

“Okay,” you exhale unsteadily, smiling. You nod to the very noticeable bulge in his jeans. “Your turn.”

“No,” Aemond says primly.

“What?”

“No,” he repeats. “Not today.”

“But…but…why?”

The curl of his lips is crooked and playful. “To prove I’m not just here to get myself off.” He kisses you again, far more tenderly than any random dom from a personal ad should. “You don’t trust me. But maybe next time you will.”

“How could I trust you? I don’t even know you.”

“We’ll have to spend more time together.”

“You seriously aren’t going to fuck me right now? Me? A mostly-naked stranger you met up with exclusively for the purposes of fucking?”

“Are you dissatisfied?”

In truth, no; your pulse is slowing, your thoughts are calm, your lust is satiated, you’re reasonably certain that you’ve sprained no less than four muscles. You feel like the sky after rain: emptied, unburdened, untroubled, at peace. “Not at all.”

“Then you shouldn’t be complaining.”

You reach out to touch Aemond’s unscarred cheek and he smiles. You try to ghost your fingertips over the left side of his face and he flinches away, leaves the bed, takes the vibrator to the bathroom to scrub it with soap and water. “Can I at least pour you a glass of sweet tea or something?” you call after him. “I feel guilty. I feel like I didn’t uphold my end of the bargain.”

“You exceeded all of my expectations,” Aemond says with a strange sort of somberness. “But sweet tea sounds great.”

You take five minutes to clean up and change into real clothes—ratty denim shorts and a red, white, and blue Pepsi t-shirt, chaotic hair, no bra—and then meet Aemond in the kitchen. He’s surveying the large circular table, which is littered with covered cake plates in a hodgepodge of sizes and colors; you found most of them at yard sales and thrift shops. The sun has set and the stars have risen; the kitchen is illuminated by yellow-hued florescent light. Night air flows in through the screens of the open windows. The boombox is currently playing Tiffany’s I Think We’re Alone Now.

“What’s the deal with that?” Aemond asks about the cluttered kitchen table.

“They’re the baked goods. For my bakery.”

“Right,” he says, remembering, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “The sign out front.”

“Would you like anything? Today we had butterscotch chiffon cake, coconut custard cake, blackberry dark chocolate cupcakes, pecan pie, red velvet brownies, lemon blueberry cookies, lavender black tea cookies, chocolate meringue pie, butter pecan muffins…”

“How about those?” He points.

“Oh! Those are banana bread cupcakes. One of my favorites.”

“Banana bread…cupcakes?”

“Here.” You plop one on a plate for Aemond, then go to the refrigerator to pour two tall glasses of sweet tea. “A lot of people put chocolate chips in their banana bread, but I feel like any chocolate really eclipses the banana flavor. It’s so subtle, you know? So what I do instead is cinnamon, honey, cream cheese frosting, and a tiny bit of sea salt mixed into the batter. If you get the ratio just right, there’s this really great blend of saltiness and sweetness, and the banana is still the star of the show. Of course I’ve fucked up plenty of times too and almost given myself dangerously high blood pressure. If I ruin a batch, I’m the one who has to eat it. We can’t let anything go to waste. Our profit margin is thinner than a crescent moon on the best months.”

“Oh my God,” Aemond says. He’s taken a bite and is now gawking at the banana bread cupcake. “You made this?” He gestures to the table. “You made all of this?”

“My best friend Amir runs the business with me, but most of the recipes are mine. My mom used to bake all the time when I was little. Now she has rheumatoid arthritis and has given it up, more or less, but that’s where I learned a lot of what I know. And I try to come up with new ideas each week to add to the rotation.”

“This is exceptional,” Aemond says. His mouth is full of the rest of the cupcake. He washes it down with a few gulps of sweet tea; ice cubes jangle in the misty glass. “This is, like, insanely good. Can I have another one…?” He’s already lifting the cover off the cake plate.

You chuckle. “Yeah, seriously, have as many as you like.”

“How much do you sell them for?”

“The cupcakes are $1, but you don’t have to pay me. You get the unrequited orgasm discount.”

“Just $1 each.” Aemond is incredulous. You aren’t sure what that’s about. He sets the second cupcake down on the table, tugs a black leather wallet out of his jeans pocket, and gives you a $10 bill.

“Aemond, really, you don’t have to—”

“I know I don’t have to. I want to. Take the money. Stop talking about it.”

You smirk up at him. “Is that an order, sir?”

He grabs your jaw with one forceful hand, kisses you roughly, bites your lower lip almost hard enough to draw blood. He tastes like cinnamon, honey, sugar, sex. “Yes,” he says, grinning wickedly. Then his hands drop to unbutton your shorts. The idea of stopping Aemond doesn’t even cross your mind; your desire for him—him specifically—is back, flaring red and primeval and irresistible. “I want you on top of that counter—”

Outside there are footsteps bounding up the front porch, loud on the creaking boards. You tear away from Aemond and hurry to re-button your shorts. What? Already??

You know exactly who it must be.

Well, now I’m definitely never going to see Aemond again.

He’s terrified, he’s wondering whether he should try to jump out of a window. But really, he’s already been spotted; his Audi Quattro is still waiting for him in the gravel driveway. “Please don’t tell me that’s your homicidal armed boyfriend or something.”

“No,” you say. “It’s my daughter.”

“Wait, your…?!”

The door swings open; you hardly ever lock it. Cadi trots in just as you are flipping over the copy of the Bayou Journal on the kitchen counter so Aemond’s personal ad is no longer visible. Instead, what now faces up—dotted with flour, powdered sugar, cinnamon, grease stains of butter—is a column about the rigs opened in Lake Verret. Just what this town needs, you think distractedly. An environmental disaster.

“Mom, whose radical car is that—?” Then Cadi spies Aemond and blinks at him a few times. She is ten years old but thinks she’s your age, short hair, short temper, denim overalls and a t-shirt underneath patterned with multicolored horses.

“This is Aemond,” you explain. He waves awkwardly and then resumes nibbling on his second banana bread cupcake, avoiding her scrutiny. “He’s a friend.”

“But you don’t have any friends,” Cadi replies.

“Watch it, Child Of The Corn. I have friends.”

“You have like one friend.”

“What happened to your sleepover with Mawmaw? I thought you were excited to trick her into watching Hellraiser.”

“Blockbuster didn’t have it. Then Great Aunt Ethel called and said she broke her hip. Mawmaw dropped me off here on her way to the hospital.”

“And she didn’t even think to check with me first, huh?”

“As if you’d have anything better to do.” Cadi races to the refrigerator—careening around a shellshocked Aemond—and heaves open the door. “What’s for dinner?”

“I think we have some Swanson’s meals left. Oh, and spaghetti.”

She narrows her eyes at you. “Who made it?”

“You’re in luck! Not me. Amir.”

“Yay!” Cadi trills, then drags out the pan and begins spooning mounds of spaghetti onto a plate. Aemond looks to you, intrigued.

You say: “I bake, I don’t cook.”

“She really doesn’t,” Cadi concurs.

“Completely different skillset.”

Cadi places a few paper towels over the heaping plate so sauce doesn’t splatter all over the microwave and then sets it to three minutes. As she waits to eat, she wanders over to where the Bayou Journal is lying on the counter and scans the page: Viserys Targaryen, three state-of-the-art oil rigs, Lake Verret, an additional 50 employees hired, Jade Dragon Energy. “Those bastards are going to get their way, I guess.”

You sigh. “Yup.”

Aemond is alarmed. He polishes off the last of his cupcake, frowning as he licks frosting from his lips. “You don’t approve?”

“They’ll blow up the whole town,” Cadi says matter-of-factly.

You smile wanly at Aemond as you sip your sweet tea. “You work for Jade Dragon, right?”

He stares back at you—stunned, perhaps even fearful, a deer flooded with headlights—but doesn’t speak.

“It’s alright. I figured you must. Some smart British guy way out here in Cajun Country? It’s gotta be for a job. Don’t worry. We won’t shoot and skin you or anything. It’s not your fault. You’re just collecting a paycheck, it’s not like you’re running the company.”

“Right.” Aemond grabs a third cupcake and gnaws at it. After a moment he adds: “I have a degree in petroleum engineering. I just moved to Napoleonville last week.”

“I knew it,” you say.

“Boo!” Cadi heckles jokingly. The microwave beeps, then she disappears into her bedroom with her plate of spaghetti. You hear Cadi turn on her little television and flip through the channels until she finds Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Aemond watches her closed door for a few seconds—still processing, you assume—and then turns back to you.

“Her name’s Katie?”

“Cadi. C-a-d-i. It’s short for Arcadia.”

He is impressed. “Greece?”

You titter nervously. You don’t know what he means. “It’s a town up by Shreveport, it’s where Bonnie and Clyde were arrested or killed or something. I’m not sure. Her father picked it.”

“You didn’t have an opinion?”

“Um, I wasn’t really…uh…conscious for a few days after she was born. By the time I was up and around again, he’d already filled out the birth certificate.”

What is that you see flicker across his face like the transient surge of a lightning bug? Curiosity? Apprehension? “I see. And her father is…” Aemond raises a blonde eyebrow, the one his scar cuts through. “On an aircraft carrier somewhere?”

You laugh. “He’s not deployed. We’re divorced, Willis lives about fifteen minutes down the road. It’s amicable.”

“So I don’t need to worry about him showing up on your front porch to murder me with a 2x4 full of nails.”

“No. Although he is the town sheriff.”

Aemond smirks. Is this a challenge or an inconvenience? “Why’d you two split up?”

You shrug, glancing at Cadi’s bedroom door. She is quite aggressive with her television volume; you’re confident she won’t be able to listen in if you keep your voice low. “It’s not that interesting a story.”

“I’m extremely interested.” And he sincerely appears to be, head tilted to the side, eyes fixed on you (though you know the left one sees nothing), thoughts whirling like storm winds.

“Well…we only ever got married because of…” You gesture towards Cadi’s room. Aemond nods, following along. “And I was too young and I didn’t know anything. I didn’t know what I wanted out of a man, I didn’t even know I had the right to set standards to measure a husband by. Willis wasn’t terrible. He didn’t hit me. He just wasn’t really who I wanted.” You chew at your lower lip, peering down at the kitchen counter, drawing circles in the sparse flour dust. “He never even proposed to me. Not properly, I mean. I told him I was pregnant and he said: Well, guess we oughta get married, huh sugar? and then drove me to the Kmart up in Gonzales to pick out a ring.”

“Classy,” Aemond mutters.

“I had to buy it myself, actually. Willis didn’t have enough cash on him. He paid me back later, but still. It wasn’t about the ring. I don’t need gold and diamonds. But I need someone who really sees me and understands me and chooses me, you know? I’ve never felt chosen. And I decided I didn’t want to settle for that. If I ever get married again, I want the whole goddamn thing. The real thing. I want the candles and the flowers and a boombox blasting Heaven Is A Place On Earth. And if that’s not in the cards, I guess I’m not the marrying type.”

“And you’ll make do with occasional visits from your friendly neighborhood dom.”

You grin up at Aemond. “Yeah, exactly.”

“You really hate Jade Dragon?”

“Companies like that…they just use us. Our land, our labor. And then when they decimate the place they pack up and disappear overnight, no pensions, no retirement, no unemployment, no meaningful cleanup, just Thanks for the millions! Bye! and we’re left to live in their filth.”

“That’s a rather cynical perspective,” Aemond says.

“It’s a realistic perspective,” you counter. “In 1965, there was a pipeline explosion in Natchitoches, in ‘79 there was an oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico, in ‘80 a Texaco rig accidentally drilled into a salt mine under Lake Peigneur and destroyed the whole ecosystem. Two weeks ago there was a refinery explosion an hour east of here in Norco. 4,500 people had to be evacuated from their homes. So no, the jobs sound nice, but in my humble estimation they’re not worth dying for.”

Aemond considers you, a look that is not patronizing or combative but not convinced either. And there’s something else too: a caginess, a nervousness.

“And these Jade Dragon people, the Targaryens? They have a history,” you continue. “I read about it in the Bayou Journal. Last year they had an oil spill at an offshore rig near Ketchikan, Alaska. They poured hundreds of thousands of barrels of poison into the ocean and killed a bunch of dolphins and whales and everything. Fishermen went bankrupt, people committed suicide.”

“Mistakes happen.” Aemond places his empty sweet tea glass in the sink.

“But they didn’t make it right. Their lawyers blamed a defective piece of equipment and kicked liability back to the manufacturer. They’ll be battling it out in court for the next decade. And meanwhile, the people of Ketchikan get nothing but misery. I don’t want Napoleonville to end up like that.”

Aemond gazes out the kitchen window and into the cicada-rattling night, faraway, pensive.

“But seriously,” you say, more casually now. “I get that it’s not your fault, Aemond. I don’t hate you or anything. You’re working for a living like anyone else. You can only do so much.”

He looks back to you and smiles vaguely. “I just go where they tell me to.”

“And that’s why you like to be in control when you’re with me.”

“Yes,” Aemond says; and on his face—strong, scarred, perfect—you can see that he is reminiscing, that he is planning what he wants to do to you next. But he can’t do any of it. Not here, not now.

“I’m sorry about…you know. The kid thing. I really didn’t think she’d be home tonight. I would never subject her to something like that, walking in to find a strange guy in the house. And I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable either.”

“It’s okay. I believe you.”

“I don’t usually do this. I’m sure you think I’m lying, but I’m not. I’ve had two boyfriends since I got divorced seven years ago, and both times it didn’t last long and Cadi never met them. And it wasn’t…like it is with you. The dynamic, I mean. The…control thing. They were just normal dudes.”

“And they couldn’t satisfy you,” Aemond says, taunting, proud, setting your blood on fire.

“No. They couldn’t. Not even close.”

You both stand silently in the kitchen amidst a cascade of inconsequential noise: Eurythmics from the little pink boombox, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles from Cadi’s room, cicadas and bullfrogs and the long-eared owl from the world outside that is primordial and feral and green. For the first time in as long as you can remember, you feel not like the piecemeal potential of a desirable woman but whole. Aemond’s right eye traces every curve and edge of you in a way that makes you think: Maybe I will see him again after all.

“Come on,” you say, turning towards the front door. “I’ll walk you out.”

But when he steps onto the creaking porch—pulling on his Marlboro jacket, watching lightning bugs bloom like daisies in the yard—Aemond seems to be stalling. “This is lopsided,” he says, tapping the wooden boards with his Adidas sneakers.

“I know. The whole foundation is, it’s sinking. We’ll have to move eventually. But we’ve been in this place since Cadi was five, it has a lot of memories. She calls it the Fall-Down House.”

“Cute,” Aemond says, but he’s pondering something. “Do you own it?”

“Oh no, God no. We rent.”

“Are you saving for a down payment to put on a new house?”

This is a rude question. “A little,” you reply curtly. Not enough. You need to make money to save money.

“Okay.” Aemond senses your discomfort. He’s good at that; it’s an advantageous skill for a dom to possess, knowing when he’s approaching a limit long before you have to shut him down. He descends the porch steps. “I’ll be back for more of those cupcakes—” There is a shrill, alien hissing from out by the tree line. Aemond shouts and scrambles back onto the porch, throwing an arm in front of you to shield you from his enigmatic nocturnal adversary. “What the fuck was that?!”

“Just a gator,” you reassure him, amused.

“A what?”

“An alligator.” You show him the shadow that lurks beneath a young oak tree draped with Spanish moss. “She’s over there. Just stay on the gravel once you get off the porch.”

Aemond is puzzled. How does anyone live in this hellscape? his face says. “How do you know it’s a female?”

“She’s not too big, and she doesn’t bellow. But she sure loves to hiss.”

“I think alligators should have gone extinct with the rest of the dinosaurs.”

“Well, there’s a secret to dealing with them.”

“Yeah?”

You smile, skating your fingers into the sleeve of Aemond’s Marlboro jacket and up his forearm until you feel goosebumps rise on his skin. “If she gets mean, you just have to bite back.”

Aemond chuckles, turns your face towards his, kisses the apple your cheek…and then, for only a moment, his teeth close around the sensitive flesh there leaving a whirlpool of pulsing, forbidden heat. He whispers through your hair: “See you soon.”

“Will you?”

“Yes,” he says, severely now. It’s a commandment, it’s a need. “I absolutely will.”

Aemond leaves you, strides across the gravel driveway without glancing back, ducks into his car, lights a cigarette; you can see the rust-colored glow through the windshield as he takes a drag. You wait in a flurry of moths under the dim florescent bulb of the front porch until his Audi Quattro veers onto Route 401 and disappears.

I hope he meant it, you think as a lightning bug lands on your knuckles and illuminates there like the gemstone of a ring. I hope I’ll see him again.

Then you shake away the insect and go inside to see if Cadi wants to help you clean up the kitchen and get a brown sugar pie baked for tomorrow. As compensation, you’ll offer her the $10 bill Aemond gave you for the cupcakes.

#aemond targaryen #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x you #aemond fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd fic

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farfromstrange · 1 year ago

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Lizzi's Kinktober 2023

Day 13: Roleplay

October 28th, 2023

Main Masterlist | Kinktober Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Summary: You and Matt sneak into the church for a little roleplay.

Warnings: EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT (18+ MINORS DNI), religious imagery, blasphemy (like, this is blasphemous beyond compare), blowjob in a church, mentions of oral afab!receiving, mentions of body worship, roleplay (Matt plays a priest), hair pulling, face-fucking, wrong use of a confessional booth

Word Count: ~1.5k

A/n: I... I need holy water.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned…”

This is wrong. This is so wrong. But if it’s wrong, why does it feel so right?

It is filthy, perhaps even perverted, but you can’t help it.

You are doomed.

He is the apple and the snake that compelled Eve to break the most important rule in the Garden of Eden. He is the forbidden fruit and the devil himself. You weren’t supposed to have a bite of him, and still, you did because he was so convincing. He drew you in from the first word spoken between you. He compelled you to take the apple, and now you are doomed.

Matt is sitting in the confessional booth. There is not a single soul in sight other than your doomed person, on your knees in front of him. He doesn’t need the robe to appear like a priest. He’s dressed in all black, and his demeanor reminds you of the men you have so often seen giving sermons on TV.

What you are doing should guarantee you a place in hell, but right now, you couldn’t care less.

“What do you need to ask forgiveness for?” he asks you.

His hand rests on the back of your head, keeping your head close to his clothed crotch.

You swallow. The rain outside is hitting the church windows. You broke in, which is a crime, but kneeling before the man you love and asking for forgiveness is not. It can’t be.

You are not religious, far from it, and he is the only person in the world that could give you the salvation you need. It isn’t wrong, it is just right. And if you get caught, at least you had a good time.

His cock is straining against his very thin dress pants. This is his fantasy as much as it is yours, maybe even more so. You know he is ridden with guilt, but right now, he is blooming in his new role. There is no way you two would ever leave before he hasn’t finished what he started.

The floor is cold under your knees. They must be bruised by now, but you manage to tune out the pain. That is part of it. Part of life. Part of existence. And it is part of atoning for your sins.

“I have been a bad, bad girl,” you whisper into the dead of the night.

Matt shifts a bit. “How so?” he asks.

“I’ve been having… thoughts. About a man of God.”

“What kind of thoughts?” With every word, his voice grows thicker.

You blink through the fog of your arousal. “I’ve been thinking about him touching me,” you say.

Your eyelids flutter. You look so innocent, and he can’t even see you. Only with his fingers on your face does he get an idea of what your features might look like right now. And you are hungry. Hungry for him. Hungry for more.

“I’ve been thinking about touching him–” Your palms rub his muscular thighs, “Touching him in places I should not think about touching a man of God.”

You can hear him suck in a sharp breath in the darkness of the booth. He shifts again. “And do you think God would forgive you for something like that?” he says. “Wanting a man of God to fuck you senseless? To touch you? To touch him?”

“I’m not sure,” you answer.

“Have you been thinking about him in church?”

“Yes.”

What terrifies you most about this is that if he were a priest, a real priest with a robe and responsibilities, you would still think about him bending you over the altar and worshipping you. You would dream about him taking you to the confessional booth, forcing you to atone for your sins. You would dream about his hands around your neck, choking you to the point you get dizzy, and repeatedly calling you a bad girl. Because that is what you are.

“You really have been bad,” Matt murmurs. He caresses the back of your head. “Luckily, your God is forgiving.”

You blink up at him. “He is?” you ask.

“Yeah. If you are willing to repent for your sins.”

When he shifts this time, his free hand goes to his belt. He unbuckles it, letting the leather fall to the floor. You don’t move. Not even when he opens the button, then his zipper, and then reaches into his boxers to take out his hard cock.

You drool, but you don’t move. It just so happens that the moon shines through the small window and shines a light on him in all his glory, with his cock out and his cheeks flushed.

Matt Murdock is an ethereal sight you can never get enough of, even when he is pretending to be a priest. For him, you will be as bad as you can be. You have no choice. You want to be.

“What’s my sentence, Father?” your voice is barely above a whisper.

He takes his cock into his hand, giving it a few pumps before pulling your head closer. A moment of deafening silence follows. Thunder rumbles. The rain reminds you of the pool in your underwear, making it hard to stay still.

Matt lets out a shaky breath as he guides his cock to your lips. “Open,” he says. His voice wavers slightly.

You do as you’re told, but you look up at him, still awaiting an answer.

A smile finds its way to his lips, and it is as dark as the booth itself. He opens his mouth again. “Atone,” he says.

And in an instant, he has fucked his cock down your throat.

You choke around his girth. Tears spring to your eyes. The head meets the back of your throat, and you gag, but you don’t force him away. You keep your hands on his thighs and your head bowed low, and you let him fuck your mouth like there is no tomorrow.

He asked you to atone. To be forgiven for your sins, you need to do this. You are his to play with. You are his to own. Right now, at least. Right now, that is all you want to be. His fucktoy. His means to get rid of pent-up frustration. His way of living out his darkest fantasies.

You are so wet, you pray to God that you don’t leave a stain on the floor. But does it matter? He will fuck you over the altar later. He will spread your legs and bury his head between your thighs. He will let you pull his hair and fuck his mouth the same way he is doing to you because that is his way of repenting. Then it is his turn to atone, when he is no longer the priest but the disciple, and you are his goddess that he prays to.

“Hail, Mary, full of grace,” Matt chokes out between heavy thrusts into the tight confines of your mouth. He can’t even hear anything but the sound of yours and his breathing, and his needy moans that fill the air. “The Lord is with thee,” he continues, but he is having a hard time forming the words.

You have heard him pray before but during sex? While he is fucking your mouth like a madman? That is new. It makes your pussy clench around thin air, and your nails dig into the flesh of his thighs. The pain only makes him moan louder. It is heaven to your ears.

“Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb–” He grits his teeth. “Jesus!”

You gag again, his cock now forced even deeper. You can’t breathe, not even through your nose. The lack of oxygen is making you feel all kinds of things, but certainly none of them bad.

“Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners,” he says, “Now and at the hour of our death.”

He thrusts and he thrusts, and with a harsh pull on your hair, he forces you off his cock. “Amen,” he almost cries out as his balls tighten, and he comes all over your face.

There is not an inch that is not covered by his seed, by the very essence of him. His cum slithers down your throat toward your breasts.

Another rumble of thunder strikes the church. The clock strikes midnight.

You look up at him through hooded eyes. He’s panting, his chest heaving, but for the first time in weeks, he looks content.

“Amen,” you whisper back.

So, you have finally atoned, and now, it is his turn.

Matt Murdock Smut Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @linamarr @mcugeekposts @itwasthereaminuteago @ravenclaw617 @mattkinsella @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch

Also tagging: @blackshadowswriter @1988-fiend

#daredevil #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock smut #matt murdock imagines #smut #daredevil x reader #daredevil smut #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #roleplay #charlie cox #lizzi writes #x reader

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sad-boys-book-club · 13 days ago

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"&" Ampersand - A Literary Companion: Eve & Paradise Lost

Hey everyone!

Let’s continue feeding my unhealthy obsession with Bastille by diving into the literary companion I created for “&”. Today, we’re talking about the second track: Eve & Paradise Lost. (Now that the album is out, I can finally follow the tracklist properly!)

In case you missed it, here’s my post about Intros & Narrators.

Before we jump into the book picks for this song, I want to apologize for the delay in writing this. I’ve had some family stuff going on, moved houses and also wanted to make sure I had read both books before recommending them.

Actually, I plan to take some time to go over the whole list of stories I’ve picked—I want to read them all thoroughly so I know exactly what I’m recommending to you all (some of them, I've already read, but I want to revisit them as well).

Now, let’s talk about the song. I find it fascinating to see a male songwriter like Dan taking on a woman’s perspective for a project that explores different stories. The official statement about the song stood out to me: “This song is about the burdens of loving women cruelly made to feel blame and shame from the dawn of time.” It’s clear Dan’s an artist who engages with feminist writings, and that’s something I truly appreciate—especially given how rare it is in the music industry, particularly for someone who presents as a straight, white male.

Cat Bohannon — Eve: How the Female Body Drove 200 Million Years of Human Evolution

The title character from the song. Probably the most cited figure from the Bible. A staple in paintings and literature for the past two thousand years. The first sinner. Eve remains a pillar of the Western collective imagination, her meaning changing a lot throughout the decades. From the representation of female sexual desire, scapegoating her for condemning the entire human race to death by eating the forbidden fruit (can you tell I went to Catholic school?), to being seen as the first example of female rage in the face of oppression. She embodies the complexities of womanhood—temptation, sin, and defiance—all wrapped into a single character.

Cat Bohannon’s book couldn’t be further from this. With a PhD from Columbia in the evolution of narrative, Bohannon explores why, in an age when we often see medical and science knowledge as some sort of truth, we still somehow have a very male-centric view of the human body.

By reexamining all the different potential Eves we have in the history of human evolution—that’s how she chooses to call all the ‘hypothetical female ancestors’ in our shared Homo sapiens lineage—, Bohannon urges us to reconsider and reshape our understanding of how our knowledge of the human body has often ignored half the world’s population.

As someone who enjoys reading non-fiction books (happy to share a few of my all-time favorites in the comments to whoever is interested), I found this book a really insightful, at times infuriating, eye-opening view into how sad it is that, for much of documented history, women have been seen as just men with breasts and wombs bolted on. The author is especially conscious of how sex (influenced by chromosomes, physiology, and hormones) and gender (how we identify, behave in our environment, and interact with one another) are not the same thing. She often adds notes to point out how science ignoring the female body and all its narratives has even worse consequences for trans and nonbinary folks, which I found really well-done and necessary in today’s age.

I picked this book as a companion to the song mainly because of the “rolled your eyes at pain you'll never comprehend” line, but I think it is a solid read on its own. I certainly learned a lot about my own body during the 15 hours I listened to the audiobook.

John Milton — Paradise Lost

So, Paradise Lost—the epic poem that pops up on pretty much every English Lit syllabus. Quick and snappy plot summary before we dive in: It’s a 12-part epic that covers Satan’s dramatic fall from Heaven, the creation of Adam and Eve, their blissful (but short-lived) days in Eden, the infamous temptation, and their ultimate eviction from paradise. Along the way, there’s a war in Heaven (didn’t exactly keep me on the edge of my seat), plus some deep philosophical chats between Raphael and Adam about creation, God, and, well, everything. It’s basically theological fanfiction (I mean it in the most neutral way possible).

Milton, being the good Puritan he was, used these stories to dig into free will, predestination, and conscience. It’s hard not to see Satan as a rebel leader and God as the authority figure, especially when you remember Milton was writing during the English Civil War.

The poem was widely known but highly controversial and criticized during Milton’s lifetime, however, during the Romantic period, poets like Shelley and Byron “reclaimed” Milton’s Satan as a tragic antihero figure.

Anyway, I had to dig out my old uni notes (and hit up some audiobooks) to brush up on Eve’s role in this whole mess. And let me tell you, there’s a lot to unpack. Mainly because: a) as is often the case with old poetry, there’s a lot to read between the lines; b) classics come with a million different interpretations, and c) there are a few different versions, depending on the edition you read, so it’s easy to get lost in the variations of text, footnotes, and commentaries. (And also d) I won’t lie, it’s a slow, heavy read. At times, I had to resort to the audiobook just to get through some of the passages!)

Here’s what stood out this time around: Eve’s role is seriously hard to pin down, as Milton's relation to gender politics has been scrutinized since, well, pretty much since it was published in the 17th century. (Yeah, I had to pull out good old Google Scholar, watch some lectures on YouTube, and, of course, dive into Muses: An Ampersand Podcast—thanks, Dan and, mostly, Emma.)

What I really enjoyed was reading some modern articles that analyze Eve’s character through the lens of feminism which ties into the song’s exploration of blame and shame—no Wild World pun intended.

First of all, when Eve is introduced to Adam in Paradise Lost, Milton has her momentarily distracted by her own reflection in a pool of water, a subtle but significant parallel to the myth of Narcissus (hint hint). It’s an early indication of how susceptible to being misled she will be later on. But it also plays into this idea that her curiosity and desire—whether for knowledge or just, you know, herself—are somehow ��dangerous.”

Now, Eve gets the blame for the Fall because she’s tempted by Satan to snack on the forbidden fruit from the Tree of Knowledge. Sure, she’s tricked, but let’s not pretend it’s all the serpent’s fault—once the idea is planted, it’s Eve who talks herself (and Adam) into it. That shows some sense of agency on her part, right? She wasn’t just a passive, helpless victim; she wanted to prove herself, to be tested, and she took action.

Milton is giving her a bit of credit for having a mind of her own, even if it’s wrapped up in this narrative of downfall. Eve’s curiosity and independence—qualities we might admire today—become her so-called "fatal flaws" here. So, yes, the story punishes female agency, but it’s undeniably there. And in a world where women were (and still are) often written as powerless, it’s refreshing to see Eve at least take some control, even if the outcome is a bit... unfortunate.

Now, let’s be real, this whole negative portrayal of Eve isn’t shocking. Milton was writing in a time where misogyny was baked into pretty much everything (which, sadly, isn’t all that different from now). Eve’s agency and sexuality are framed as the ultimate cautionary tale: women’s sexuality and agency are seen as inherently dangerous and something that inevitably leads to moral fallings.

But despite it all, towards the later part of Paradise Lost, Eve does get a kind of redemption arc. I came across one scholar who referred to the concept of felix culpa, a phrase in Catholic tradition meaning "happy fault" or "blessed fall." Eve might be responsible for humanity’s downfall, but her actions also set the stage for the coming of Christ, making her "mistake" a necessary part of the larger divine plan. It’s a bit of a paradox—how can something so disastrous lead to something so positive?—but the idea is that certain misfortunes can eventually lead to greater good.

Milton leans into this in Book 12, where Adam says:

"O goodness infinite, Goodness immense! That all this good of evil shall produce, And evil turn to good; more wonderful Than that which creation first brought forth, Light out of Darkness!"

So, in a roundabout way, Eve’s fall isn’t all doom and gloom—she’s the necessary catalyst that sets God's plan into motion. In fact, scholars have started to reframe Eve’s role in Paradise Lost as something more empowering than it initially appears. Traditionally, Eve’s been seen as the ultimate cautionary tale, blamed for humanity’s fall and cast as a symbol of female weakness and danger. But if you look closely, there’s something subversive in the way she’s actually the mover of the entire plot.

Eve isn’t just sitting around passively following orders—she actively makes the decision to eat the fruit, which, yes, brings about the fall, but it’s also what triggers the eventual coming of Christ and the possibility of redemption. Without her action, we’d all be hanging out in Eden, stuck in a static, sheltered existence. In a way, this is Eve taking control of her fate, making a choice, even if it’s framed as "wrong."

Plus, while Milton definitely punishes Eve, her agency is undeniable. Adam is kind of an afterthought in the whole thing—Eve is the one who steps outside the box, embraces curiosity, and disrupts the status quo. To modern feminist readers, that kind of defiance (even if it’s punished) reflects the strength of a woman asserting her independence. Raphael even calls her "the mother of humankind," acknowledging her dual role. She is both chaos and creation—a symbol of disruption but also the source of life. So, in a way, Eve’s choice is what makes humanity... well, human.

I like how in the song, there’s also a sense of Eve having an agency and a mind of her own. The chorus highlights Eve’s struggle with the idea of being “made for” Adam—“When they say I was made for you... made from you”—and the frustration of biting her tongue, which relates to how her love for Adam intertwines with her need for independence.

That’s it for this post! I’ll be back soon with more book picks for the next track. Let me know if you’ve read these or if you have any thoughts!

Feel free to share your thoughts and any other book suggestions as well!

With love,

Cat

#mine #bastille #dan smith bastille #dan smith #dan bastille #ampersand #&#literature #paradise lost #eve #john milton

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m4ndysk4nkovich · 1 year ago

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Seeing Ian in season 1 puts into perspective the amount of BS he had to go through. Like when I think of things I wish were addressed with more weight, Ian's abuse at the hands of older men is one of them. I know Ian doesn't see it that way but others do (Mickey and Lip) and it feels like it's constantly glossed over. Lip says he wanted to call the police on Kash but he couldn't bring himself to do it. A scene of that would've reinforced just how wrong it is, instead of the situation ending with Kash is a sad middle-aged man and that's why Ian shouldn't want him. Not, Kash is a predator and Ian is a victim.

We can also talk about how both Lip and Debbie are victims of grooming. Grooming was never seriously addressed on the show.

i’m actually so pissed that grooming was never addressed as it was such a big issue for ian, debbie, lip, and also kind of carl but not really (with lori i think her name was, his boss). the only time grooming is ever brought up is with tami but it’s just a one episode thing and it’s irrelevant to the plot tbh.

ian’s situation devastates me because he never ends up thinking it’s wrong. he was constantly objectified by these older men he was with, too. to them he was seen as just a “boy toy” or the “forbidden fruit”. not only were his relationships with kash and ned creepy, but the guys at the club, too. for example, the one who dragged him out of the club, barely conscious, after giving him a roofie. ian graciously accepted the pill like he was used to it, and he probably was. he let this guy drug and grope him, and i always see people saying “imagine what would’ve happened if mickey hadn’t come” and i’ll tell you what would’ve happened, he would’ve been raped. and i can guarantee you with how used to it he was, it had happened before. and i’ll say more about this with lip and debbie, but i firmly believe the reason he indulged into these relationships was to fill the void frank created.

debbie’s situation is also devastating. if you recall, when lip was trying to convince ian that what happened with kash was wrong/grooming people is wrong, he said “ok so what if it was debbie and a 30 year old dude”, ironically, in the next season she gets with a 20 year old dude who for some fucking reason, a good percentage of the fandom sympathizes with/sides with. here’s the real deal: matty groomed her. he was into her, knowing she was 13, but didn’t want to have sex with her, in fear of himself going to prison. prison was the only thing stopping him, he said it himself that he thought she was sexy and wanted to. and before anyone says anything about how debbie did tell him she was 16 at first when he first started to like her, he could obviously tell. the point was that it was obvious she was lying. and yeah, what debbie did was wrong. i’ve said a lot about this before, but what he did was wrong, too. he led her on, flirted with her, promised to have sex with her, slept in the same bed as her, and also talked to all of her friends for some reason, he was a creep!! no grown adult should be hanging out/flirting with an adolescent girl, and it scares me that people defend him. like i said with ian, she was trying to fill a void. not only that, but she was mirroring fiona’s actions. she had seen her sister get into unhealthy relationships, so she did just. and the worst thing was debbie didn’t even like him, it was just comphet. so it was some adult with a one-sided crush on a teenager. creepy. at this time, frank was dying and fiona was working/locked up, she needed attention because she was lacking it, so she went to him for it because she knew he’d give her it.

lip’s situation i have less to say about because technically, he was an adult, but regardless, it was creepy as fuck. more so, his attachment to her was creepy. this is what happens when you get groomed, you grow attached. and lip was so fucking attached it destroyed him when she ignored him. like his siblings, this was to fill the void a parent created. but this time, frank isn’t responsible, monica is. i’ve never really spoken about this despite having a lot to say, but lip and monica’s relationship effects him a lot. i hate to say this, but he’s treated women like shit because of it (i’m not saying he always does, but he has- i’ll explain more in depth sometime) and his mother abandoning him clearly altered his perspective on women. i think that monica leaving made him (and every other sibling, especially debbie) grow attached easily, and i think it also made him lose respect for some women because he just saw his mom in them. i saw a post that explains this a lot better than i am right now so if i find it i’ll definitely link it so it makes more sense.

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twilightmalachite · 1 year ago

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Raison d’être - The Nameless Girl 4

Author: Akira

Characters: Mika

Translator: Mika Enstars

"I don’t think I’d be able t’stand bein’ in the one I love’s way."

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Season: Winter

Location: Shu’s Atelier (Paris)

Raffaello: “Conversely, my mother was poor at creating works from scratch using her own imagination, and instead reproduced natural objects like such.”

“Perhaps that is why her name is unknown to the public, despite possessing such a high level of skill.”

“No matter how elaborate the “fakes” my mother makes, they will always pale in comparison to the “real thing” in nature created by God.”

“If she had spread her wings of fantasy and created something that did not exist in reality, the masses might have taken interest, but…”

“I’ve said this many times, but my mother had no interest in that side of things.”

“She had no desire for fame or recognition. Her works were made for herself as a hobby in private.”

Mika: Nnah~… I do kinda admire that, too. ♪

Raffaello: “…My father evaluated my mother as an unparalleled prodigy artist, and insisted his money on her to purchase her work.”

“But the moment he did that, while her wallet was enriched, my mother’s “own world” was invaded and defiled.”

Mika: ……

“After that exchange with my father, my mother immediately ceased making dolls, which she had done passionately until then.”

“My mother had lost “something” important to her the moment she had exchanged something she had loved for money.”

Mika: She was a delicate person, huh… I’ve also fallen into slumps over trivial things though, so I feel I can understand her a lil’.

Raffaello: “Ah, so you understand her. I’m not able to.”

“If such a capricious man was willing to fork up ridiculous sums for her work, why not continue to create and sell them?”

“If she had done so, she could have built a fortune by now.”

Mika: Did it make life difficult for ya, Raffaello-san? ‘Cause she didn’t make enough…?

Raffaello: “Not particularly. I just think it was quite the waste.”

“I’m a materialist, after all.”

“And. I do not know what perception you have of him, but the world seems to overrate him, and treat him like some great man—”

“My father, and Shu’s grandfather, was a materialist just like myself.”

“I suppose you could call me a realist. I believe only in what I can see.”

“Such is why I am often angry at those who’d rather appreciate faith and other fanciful things they cannot see.”

“Rather, that's why my mother would attempt to perfectly, sophisticatedly “reproduce” what actually does exist, what can be seen—”

“Perhaps my father fell in love with her technique and work.”

“I’m sure he saw my mother as a God who created all things with her own hands.”

“My mother was my father’s God.”

“However, the God he worshiped was a living human of flesh and blood.”

“That is where the cause of all misfortune had lain.”

Mika: What do ya mean by that…?

Raffaello: “Because my father ate the forbidden fruit.”

“He did what no person is allowed to do. My father, who loved my mother, did what he thought was natural to do as a man grounded in reality at the time—He proposed to my mother.”

“He proposed to the very God he worshiped and even had a child; myself. Surely even you know that such a thing is inherently unforgivable.”

“God is meant to be worshiped at a distance. However my father, my mother’s sole believer, embraced his God and made her “his property”.”

“I recognize that it is outdated to say a woman is a man’s property, but bear with me. It was a time where that was just how things were.”

“But, as a result, the inherently impossible situation of man owning God was brought about—Everything fell apart.”

“It’s like a devout believer dismantling the cross and using it as firewood to keep warm. My father must have been greatly worried about it too, he must have felt like he was Judas Iscariot.”

“That, and my father had a fiancée arranged for him by his parents back at home. He had betrayed this “fated partner” of his and fell in love with a dollmaker he met in a foreign country.”

“And even had a child with her.”

“I’m sure you know how serious an “error” that was at a time where marriage was for the sake of connecting two families.”

“He’d committed the greatest injustice to his family, worthy of disownment.”

“My father surely was prepared for that. Perhaps he cared more about the woman he had fallen in love with than his house or the fortune inherited from his ancestors.”

“I suppose you could call it youthful indiscretion.”

“However, my mother stepped aside in consideration of my father’s position.”

“She disappeared completely from my father’s life, and to this day, not a single member of the Itsuki family knows of her presence.”

“That was my mother’s own best way of thanking the man who loved her and her work.”

“No, it was how she loved.”

Mika: That’s… such a cruel and painful story.

If I were in the same position, I’d… Ahh, yeah, I’d probably end up disappearin’ as well.

I don’t think I’d be able t’stand bein’ in the one I love’s way.

Raffaello: “I cant sympathize with it at all. Rather, that is why I’ve gone as far as to trample on my mother’s tragic resolve, by “appearing” in front of you all.”

“I am the very sin my father has committed.”

“At the very least, I would like to remind the man who destroyed my mother’s life of “that”, before he peacefully passes away and is memorialized as a great man.”

“No, I want to accuse that man of sin. It is too late for him to atone for what he’s done, but I do not want to let him pretend this never happened.”

“I will point at the grandfather of the Itsuki family, respected by all, and tell him he’s nothing but a filthy sinner.”

“Of course, it’s not like doing that would never make my mother happy. She has already passed away, not any type of offering can bring comfort to the dead.”

“However. At the very least, I’d like to confront a man, who claims to be a realist, with the “reality” he pretended not to see for his entire life.”

“Before he dies, before he goes to heaven, I’d like to bring to him what he had forgotten.”

“And if by doing so, if that man could remember my mother and regret it, even if only for a moment at the end of his life…”

“If he could understand that this supposedly flawless, perfect life of his is a castle of sand built upon a lie, if he could regret his superficial life he built…”

“Only then will that man’s sin of destroying a woman’s life will finally become even.”

Mika: ……

[ ☆ ]

← prev | story directory | next →

#raison d’être #raison d'etre #mika kagehira #translation #event

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thefakehedgehogaroundhere · 9 months ago

Note

this isn’t about the hogs…

I… want to get into the Hazbin Hotel fandoms but idk if I wanna actually watch the show cuz I’m a kid and like I don’t care about swearing but yknow…

and like maybe I should just watch comps of it for an understanding of the characters… but like also I need plot n stuff and I’ve seen you reblog it so like

idk

can you give me a rundown of the show?

if you can’t/don’t want to just answer this ask with no or smth

please and thank you

(Don’t make a hazbin sonic au k?)

You got it! I do want to warn you tho: The show contains violence, death, abuse, sex, and suicidal ideation.

The prologue is just Lucifer likes free thinking, so he steals Adam's wife Lilith and then they trick Adam and his new wife Eve into eating the forbidden fruit, and now hell exists.

The princess of Hell, Charlie, is trying to redeem sinners to avoid overpopulation without the same cruel tactics of keeping the population down that Heaven uses- mass extermination once a year. To do this, she opens a hotel called the Happy Hotel that rehabilitates sinners, that she runs with the help of her girlfriend Vaggie and her friend Angel Dust.

Unfortunately for her image, Angel is currently engaged in a turf war with a demon named Sir Pentious, fighting alongside his best friend Cherri Bomb. Which. Yknow. Not exactly helping him redeem himself.

After a bit, a fearsome demon named Alastor appears at the door, offering to help Charlie run the hotel- not to rehabilitate sinners, but to be entertained when said sinners fail. He introduces Niffty to be the maid, and Husk to be the bartender (who Angel immediately begins flirting with). Alastor beats up Sir Pentious, renames the hotel to Hazbin instead of Happy, and that's the end of the pilot.

I cant explain every single episode in great detail- especially if you decide to watch it- so these descriptions are gonna be much more brief. 1 paragraph per episode, MAX.

Charlie's dad, Lucifer, lets her go to a meeting with Heaven, where she's introduced to Adam- the first man and head of the exterminators. He disagrees with her plan to redeem sinners, since he doesn't think they can change, and moves the next extermination to half a year from now.

Sir Pentious returns for another fight with Alastor. We're next introduced to the Vees- three powerful demons named Vox, Valentino, and Velvette. While Vox and Alastor have a rivalry, Pentious has actually been sent into the Hotel by the Vees to act like he wants redemption, but actually just to infiltrate them. After Vox tells him to kill himself (im not kidding), Charlie allows him a chance to redeem himself, which he takes. Vaggie and Angel are pretty pissed about this but it's fine

Alastor goes to a meeting with the other overlords (just demons that have massive power, specifically over certain territories), where Velvette starts talking trash to Carmilla- an overlord who also sells weapons. Velvette accuses her of killing an angel that was found headless in Hell after an extermination, and later it's revealed to Vaggie that she DID kill the angel to protect her children. She doesn't want the secret to slip, because if Heaven finds out, it means war.

Angel is revealed to be in an abusive relationship with Valentino. He's a porn star, and Val is his director and boss. Charlie, blissfully unaware, tries to get him off work for the day to do trust exercises, but Val threatens Angel that he'll hurt Charlie if he can't make her leave. Angel lashes out, shoots the porn, and returns to the hotel bar with Husk to drink away his sorrows. Husk tries to get him to open up, so he leaves for another bar. Husk follows him there too, and he explains that Angel isn't the only one who's damaged and that they're both losers.

Lucifer shows up and is depressed, and he has a rivalry with Alastor about who is the better dad. Al's friend Mimzy shows up out of nowhere, lore-dumps, and then it turned out she just went to the hotel to escape the cops because she stole a car. Alastor politely tells her to fuck off. Charlie and Lucifer have a conversation about how the hotel could work, with Charlie pushing Lucifer to let her go to Heaven and try to make her argument in person. He caves, and Charlie excitedly tells Vaggie she's coming too.

Charlie and Vaggie arrive in Heaven, and are introduced to an angel named Sera and her daughter Emily. Charlie and Emily agree that sinners should have the chance to be redeemed, which Adam again shuts down, saying that they had their chance. Vaggie is revealed by Adam to be a fallen angel- and not just an angel, but one of the exterminators, punished to life in Hell because she saved a child. Charlie begins fearing for what else Vaggie could be lying about, but before she can panic more, the opposing viewpoints turn Heaven and Hell to battle. Also, the whole time this is going on, Angel, Husk, Niffty, Pentious, and Cherri are getting drinks, and seeing the supposed "redeemed souls" drinking is actually what sells it to the angels that they can't be saved.

Everyone prepares for the battle. Charlie and Vaggie make up, Vaggie trains with Carmilla, Angel, Husk, and Niffty spend more time together, Pentious catches feels for Cherri, and the Vees get their popcorn ready. Pentious tries to tell Cherri he's interested for like the whole episode and ends up just saying "please don't die ok bye"

Battle. Alastor put up a force field around the hotel. It stops working. Angel and Husk make sex jokes while committing several counts of murder, Niffty stabs anything she can see, Alastor and Adam fight but Alastor turns into a puddle and leaves, Pentious kisses Cherri and then fucking dies, and Charlie and Vaggie are fighting side by side. Lucifer shows up and tells Adam "you get no bitches because I stole them both", and then Niffty stabs Adam to death. Everyone sings and then HOLY SHIT PENTIOUS MADE IT TO HEAVEN

#can't make a hazbin sonic au anyway bc someone did that already lmaoo #faker's askbox #faker and friends #hazbin hotel #hazbin spoilers

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soridwritierlovesculture · 9 months ago

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CONTENTS- one shot, younger sister x older brothers best friend (both over 18yrs of age), smut, swearing\vulgar language, mentions of SA, mentions of alcohol

Anora stumbled as Alex pulled her into the bathroom and closed the door. He gripped her by the hair and pulled her over to the toilet, and when he shoved his fingers into her mouth Anora bit down, hard, glaring at him as he hissed and tightened his grip.

“You need to puke, now.”

“Wuck ooh a-ol!”

“You’re usually smarter than this, since when do you just let someone get your drinks? That dipshit you were talking to and the guy he was with? Last time he was around here, some girls were found beat up in a motel the next day, and one of them was seen leaving a planned parenthood a month later. No reports that anyone knows of, but you can put two and two together.”

Anora froze, then snarled as he pushed his fingers deeper before choking and bending over the toilet as what little she’d eaten came up. Alex still had his grip on her hair, and when she was done he pulled her up and turned her to the sink, finally letting go when she turned on the water. Rinsing her mouth out, Anora glared at him through the mirror before turning to slap him, hard, her wet hand leaving a red print around his beard almost immediately, and he met her eyes with a glare of his own.

“You’re a pain the ass you know that?”

“Then leave me the fuck already!”

“I would if you’d use the brain we both you have and quit making my life difficult.”

“I’m not the one who’s so emotionally stunted he turns into a caveman when his best and only friend goes away.”

“No, you’re just the liar who’d rather pretend that everything is going exactly as planned than face the reality of the consequences your actions have.”

“Yes I’m a liar fine, but you haven’t exactly been a saint yourself Alex. Does Ashley know you’ve been watching your besties little sister less than subtly rather than doing your part for the wedding, because as your fiance that’s certainly something she should know.”

“Ashley and I called off the engagement months ago,” Alex said, stepping into her as she backed into the sink, “and that doesn’t absolve you of all the silly shit you’ve been doing. You lied to Dick about work, you lied to your mom and friends about your piece of shit ex, you lied to ex about me, and you’ve lied to me about everything. I had to find out from Rachel fucking Furman about tonight, and that’s only because she still wants to fuck me to fuck with you.”

“Go and fuck her then. You couldn’t keep up with me anyway, so go fuck her or Ashley or whoever else you want, and let me live.”

“Can’t fuck who I want. She’s my best friends baby sister and I can’t stand liars.”

Anora blinked at him, then scoffed and pushed him back, leaving the bathroom to go to her room. Alex followed her, closing the door behind him, and Anora took of her heels as she smirked at him.

“So let me get this straight. Since Dick left, when you insulated me, insulted my friends, badgered me about Ethan and that whole situation, came to my job and nearly got me fired, followed me to and from my classes and work, fucked your fiance… sorry ex fiance apparently, in front of me and then berated me for it, and then just now dragged me away from a stress relieving activity to then force your fingers down my throat, all of that was because you wanted to fuck me? Are you stupid? You realize the whole ‘ he bullies you because he likes you’ thing is both juvenile and toxic yes?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Isn’t it? When did this even happen, we’ve known each other for years and all of a sudden you’re interested? What, do you have some forbidden fruit kink or something?”

“You really think this is happening just because you’re Dicks sister? Besides, we both know you’ve been watching me as much as I’ve been watching you, maybe just as long.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck about you,” Anora said, but her heart was racing. He knew? All this time, he knew about her stupid crush and did nothing? That made this even more ridiculous. Alex strode over to her and held her waist, pulling her into him, and Anora glared up at him as he smirked down at her.

“You’re still lying.”

“And you’re still an asshole. Let go of me.”

“Not a chance. I want you to admit what you did tonight was stupid and reckless.”

“Fuck you. I’m not sleeping with you just because you’re bored and horny and I’m the only person around. That’s the only reason you really want to fuck me right?”

“Not even close.”

“Now who’s lying?”

“Only you.”

“Tell you what. Let’s both tell one truth, and then you get the hell out of my room.”

“You couldn’t keep up with me.”

“Try me.”

Alex pushed her back then, and Anora gritted her teeth as he went over her and pressed his leg between hers, her skirt coming up as he ground his knee against her pussy. Pulling her hands above her head , Alex then held both in one hand while he pressed down on her stomach with the other, and when she bit her lip to keep the sound building in her throat down, he smirked down at her before leaning to whisper into her ear.

“I have this fantasy where after I fuck you six ways to Sunday and back, I wake up with my cock still buried inside you. I’ll watch you wonder why you feel so warm, and when you move your hips to milk me dry, I pin you down and kiss that pretty neck of yours when you realize you’ve been caught and lie again, saying ‘I’m not into this’ or ‘it means nothing’. I’ll say, ‘look at my pretty girl, stuffed with cum and still so hungry,’ and your filthy fucking mouth will open up for me when I put my fingers down your throat again, just for fun. I’ll get to push deeper into you and listen to every sound that limp dick Ethan could never fuck out of you, and when you come I’ll say, ‘there’s my naughty little liar’, and you’ll lie again. You’ll say you’re not mine or that he did it better, but I’ll know. I know every time you lie because you bite that lip and tap your fingers when you do, and I’ll be so deep inside you I’ll feel your heartbeat through your pussy and fuck you again, and again, and again. I’ll fuck the lies right out of that mouth, and you’ll never tell me another one because you’ll be too busy gulping around my dick when I empty it in this pretty throat of yours. And the reason all that’s gonna stay a fantasy, the real honest to God truth why I don’t rip off this skirt and finally taste you, is because even though I want you so much I lose my mind a little more every day, your brothers my best friend, my family, and I’d rather have only one of you in my life than lose both of you.”

Alex let go of her then, his body tense and breath heavy, and Anora swallowed as she shook from the sudden loss of heat. She could see the hard on through his jeans, and she watched as he flexed his hands before balling them into fists at his sides, his eyes on her tits as she fought to steady her breath. The whole time he’d spoke, she could swore she could feel every moment. She could feel his warm, his touch, how heavy he’d be on her body, how hard he would move inside her, how his hands would move across her burning skin, how his breath would feel on her body.

“Well,” Alex said, his voice tight as he glared down at her, “your turn Terror. Tell me one truth, the whole truth, and I’ll walk out of here right now.”

“…I want you to. I’ve wanted you to do that and more for years, and I hate it. I hate that I want you. I hate where you stand in my life. I hate you for always being there and knowing it means nothing. I decided to move on, but you always being around makes it hard. So I bury it. I bury it with work and sex and lies, and I’ve made myself get used to not having you, because I know you never could be mine. I know I’m a liar, and I’ll lie every day to keep the truth buried so deep I forget it’s even there. I want you, but I also hate you. And I think that little fantasy of yours would be the best and worst thing to happen to us.”

They looked at each other in silence for what felt like forever, and then Alex took a deep breath, and walked away, leaving Anora alone in the darkness of her room.

#brothers best friend #smut #oneshot #younger sister

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sinelanguage · 8 months ago

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more art museum posting, this time from tokyo. as always this is just my personal diary/blog of art thoughts lol. im no art expert in any way ever

this time: the museum of contemporary art tokyo

splitting this into two bits, the rotating exhibit and the main exhibit. overall really enjoyed the exhibit, tho i don’t think it beats tower of babel it still had enough slightly unsettling stuff for me to enjoy it.

Yasuko Toyoshima

overall: enjoyed this exhibit, i think the pieces i liked most were the ones that were slightly off in an uncanny valley way. a lot of her pieces were clean in presentation, sometimes almost cute about it, but with just enough going wrong with it to ring some alarm bell in my brain

for an example here, she had a full set of pencil cases where the pencils were sharpened from the inside out— so at first blush it was like looking two pencils in the case, but actually looking at it longer you realized that’s not quite it. a lot of the pieces were like that— simple and ordinary until you noticed what was wrong

i think my favorite was a collection of carved wood pieces, carving out one strand of wood at a time until several boards were covered in these tiny, curled shavings. there’s both like, precision to actually getting the shavings to curl but not fall off, and just. the type of emotion you’d put into doing a meaningless, repeated action over and over and over again. destroying something by carving into it again and again. “emotions clawing at something” vibes.

Main Exhibit

The Kanto Earthquake exhibit had a really strong presentation— the rough sketches of devastation, the very detailed extremely large sketches of post war life, ending on a quaint sketch of a cat under an umbrella. i don’t think I’ve seen an art exhibit with such an emphasis on sketches like this, and i really enjoyed the like. absolute focus of representation of real, human life here— i get burnt out by seeing a lot of detailed paintings that don’t really focus on the humanity of a city/location, but the sketch collection really used every line toward that.

Fukuda Naoyo’s embroidered books were incredible to see. maybe im just an embroidery fan, but the contrast of these beige/tan books being cut into with straight clean lines, contrasted with the natural mossy greens of the embroidery. liked it a lot

Mitsushima Takayuki had a piece called tactile adventure that said you could touch it but it felt like a thought experiment that tormented me. i made eye contact with the security guard and just walked away. forbidden fruit

The Tadanori Yokoo exhibit made me feel like i was getting punked. The exhibit signage in English just went over how he used water imagery in his pieces, while the pieces themselves were an almost anxiety-inducing collage of colors, dark humor, and like tits. it was incredibly funny to me, as sad as i was not having an information packet. “yes this man uses water imagery” it’s a collage of post war anxieties in the brightest colors possible. there’s a wave in there. Sure.

A Dark Night’s Flashing: From The Red Darkness was my favorite piece though. it was a singular, seemingly normal scene (BY COMPARISON) almost a lot of surreal collages, but the contrast and split in the colors was really good at drilling in this. unsettling atmosphere.

the museum placed this immediately next to Miyajima Tatsuo’s red digital counter piece which was a fun way to like. keep that energy going lol. anyway really good to see in person and mesmerizing.

and that’s it! overall really solid museum

#personal #sineposting #ill make that my actual. Art museum tag and retag stuff later #when im not in Tokyo lol

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poohwhin · 2 years ago

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mandela catalogue volume 4 LONG thought dump. (for my dialovers followers i apologise for clogging your dash)

also big massive tw for this series.

OKAY SO. SOME THINGS! i’m a little bitch and pause the video every 15 seconds, so excuse me. but this also means that i can give you my rambling thoughts for various timestamps SKSKS. i’m not a theorist. i’m just a guy with some thoughts. you can actually skip all this bs if you want since i did an ACTUAL post abt my thoughts HERE.

[ 𝟎:𝟎𝟎 — 𝟐:𝟑𝟗 ]

we’re started with an explanation on the earth’s creation (in relation to christianity). which i always find it very interesting when we’re able to see the connections to religion, even if older bible cartoons and vhs style stories are a little unsettling to me.

but then seeing (what i’m assuming to be) gabriel’s statue just. standing there with his face obscured, after the text “awaken my son” appears is. wow. (definitely had me pausing my video every 3 seconds and hiding behind my phone.) i’m not gonna lie, i never expected alt! gabriel’s influence to go back that far into the christian lore. man’s been here from the jump i guess. (and ofc we get the infamous forbidden fruit scene, and eve becoming painfully aware and scared of the man looking down at them)

[ 𝟐:𝟓𝟎 — 𝟑:𝟏𝟐 ]

i have no real thoughts i just find the idea of someone names O’Brien calling to say hello to Dave to be incredibly endearing for some reason. SKSK. LIL DAVE HAS A FRIENDDDD. (also the windmill cgi(?) i’m diggin it.) also dave’s friend is religious which is. making me anxious for the both of them. SKSKS but O’Brien’s a band member which i find cool as hell.

[ 𝟑:𝟐𝟖 — 𝟒:𝟎𝟔 ]

LIVE ACTION DAVE MOVEMENT?? AHHHHHHH. WHENEVER WE’VE SEEN HIM HE’S JUST BEEN THIS SILLY LITTLE IMAGE. god i live for the live action scenes tbh.

also local businesses havent been doing so hot? man i wonder why. could it be the population dropping by the thousands (/j)

AYO ONE OF THE EMPLOYEES WHO WORKS WITH DAVE FOUND A TAPE FROM THATCHER? AHHHHH??? “same old procedure” , oh dear. i can only fear for what this tape holds.

also found out that Dave himself isn’t religious. which now makes me wonder about the position he’d be in when encountering an alternate. (O’Brien is also so nice though omg. understanding man.)

[ 𝟒:𝟏𝟑 — 𝟒:𝟑𝟔 ]

i just wanna say that alex’s cinematography has gotten SO MUCH BETTER? HELLO? these long black screens have really got me on edge, even though not really any of them have been leading to anything particularly scary. also the employee stealing the tape thatcher sent to, presumably, go watch it 👁️. oh dear oh dear.

BACK TO HIS FILMING SKILLS FOR A SECOND— everything being in black and white as well as him focusing on large silhouettes is just. UGHHHH 😩😩😩. what im assuming right now is some sort of tv has such an intimidating silhouette my goodness. (also “property of dave!! hands off!!!” i love him SKSKS)

[ 𝟒:𝟒𝟐 — 𝟓:𝟏𝟒 ]

ooooo static on da big screeeeeeeen. if its the intruder im literally gonna shit myself omg. he scares me sm.

THE TODDLER STRESS ASSESSMENT VIDEO?? OH NO?? HHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

(at 4:55) WHAT THE FUCK IS ON THAT TV?? HELLO? WHAT? THE FUCK? IS THAT AN ALTERNATE? FUCK THOSE GUYS

( at 4:58) nvm it was a drawing.

eugh i paused on the drawing.

ngl if that’s a child’s drawing i am. very concerned? because why is a child drawing something that realistic and morbid, i am. CONCERNED. but also the intruder is actively stealing children en mass so maybe we have other issues.

[ 𝟓:𝟏𝟐 — 𝟓:𝟓𝟓 ]

i’m ngl i thought that was a face instead of the back of someone’s head.

THATCHERRRRRR

youtube closed captions the audio is not “foreign.” pls.

(at 5:21) bro why did thatcher do a tiktok trend with his delayed ass walk.

wait why are we seeing thatcher’s day to day from this perspective?? is this significant? if it is i think its odd. us just chillin in his cabinet.

[ 𝟓:𝟓𝟔 — 𝟕:𝟓𝟏 ]

omg kid named lola. (also i feel like i’ve seen that last name before but im too lazy to check sksksks). also they’re in art club??? are they the kid who drew the drawing before?? (i mean they’re on the NEWS, SO—)

AYO MISS SARAHHHHHHHH. MISS SARAH HEATHCLIFF HELLOOOOO. (and omg she’s the founder of the paranormal club at BHS??)

(at 6:25) THE LITTLE GHOST ANIMATION IM SOBBING HAHSHSH. HEY LITTLE FELLA.

omg we’re seeing how sarah and adam met. so neat 😩 (also i cant make out the name of the hs adam goes to but it starts with a W. youtube closed captions also arent doing me any favours SKSKS?

adam grew up in mandela?? noice.

bro this silence is kinda freakin me out but that has nothing to do with the video SKSK

SARAH AND ADAM BPS FOUNDERS WOOOOOOOOOOOO

[ 𝟕:𝟓𝟕 — 𝟗:𝟒𝟓]

omg more live action i love it 🫶

(8:26) “look at it and don’t look away” WHATRE WE LOOKIK AT BOYS?? mentally preparing for a jumpscare rn.

the night vision lens scared the fuck outta me my god.

audio lure BITCH ARE THEY LURING PEOPLE OUT?? HELLO? THE HELL ARE Y’ALL TRYNA LURE WITH THIS?

(8:50) oh you got me fucked ALLLLLLLLLLL the way up. I’M WITH SARAH TBH I’D BE SCARED AS HELL.

BRO THERES THE HAND. AH HELLLLLLLLL NAH THERES A FUCKING HAND.

THERES MULTIPLE HANDS. THERE ARE MULTIPLE HANDS?? THEY ARE? EVERYWHERE? BRO?

ngl if this was the sort of ‘norm’ that adam was dragging them to, then i kinda get it. but also i’m an adam apologist so i’ll defend him for the rest of my days.

(9:23) GOD THAT WAS FREAKY AS HELL.

[ 𝟗:𝟒𝟔 — 𝟏𝟎:𝟐𝟔]

i’d be scared as hell too so its okay sarah 🫂🫂 like imagine you think you’re starting this quirky paranormal club then right outta the gate its like “DEMONS 👹”

omg :( sarah’s dialogue reminds me a lot of jonah’s from vol 2 with how she’s starting to think twice. but at least she’ll still do everything else 🫂

“two years later” so are they both 19?? 17?? idk the timeline here but they started bps in high school, so.

[ 𝟏𝟎:𝟐𝟕 — 𝟏𝟏:𝟏𝟓 ]

omg new characters in here. ofc we got sarah, jonah, and evelin but we got a tyler and amanda too? 👁️ damn what happened with amanda 😞 (also jonah and adam stoners confirmed?? tf y’all getting 25mg of? SHARE BITCH?) i also made a note to pay attention to the dates even though my ass will forget.

(jotting them down here: eve: just now | sara: friday | jonah : jan 7 | tyler : jan 2 | amanda : dec 19 ) idk if these are important but i got ‘em.

(10:45) SHAWTY REMOVED JONATHAN AS A CONTACT? MANNNNNNNNNNN. also omg we got a noah?? does he have an arc? (ik i’m so hilarious)

also adam fr give my girl eveline some closure 🙄

[ 𝟏𝟏:𝟏𝟔 — 𝟏𝟑:𝟐𝟏 ]

adam my boy ily but pls learn your “there’s”. c’mon.

idk how i feel about adam’s picture being in black & white while sarah’s is in colour. that’s either important or adam is just emo as hell. (also theyre both grainy as hell. ik its 2009 but c’mon SKSK)

“ and idk what happened to him” changed to “pretty sure he’s dead or something” MY BOY BAHSHSHSHS. “idk he might be dead or smth. rip” LIKE ADAM. SHAWTY. THEN HE JUST MOVES ON LIKE “NAHNAH LEMME GIVE YOU THE GOOD NEWS!!!” BAHSHSHSHS

(12:32) oh. sarah’s pfp change. OH NOOOOOOO. SARAH NOOOOO. okay its back to normal nvm.

“i didnt think it would be that big of a deal” adam. bby. your friend is DEAD? shawty looking out for himself, so power move i guess SKSK.

(13:21) “i dont have friends” okay emo ass.

[ 𝟏𝟒:𝟎𝟐 — 𝟏𝟒:𝟏𝟒 ]

sarah just been going OFF. POP OFF. also adam hanging up like a lil baby 🙄

“no wonder evelin left you” DAMNNNNNNNNNNN

[ 𝟏𝟒:𝟏𝟔 — 𝟏𝟔:𝟏𝟒]

damn mandela county went from 19,867 to 1,075 in just 19 years. also, thatcher :( he sounds SO BROKEN and SO TIRED. his actor did so good :(.

HIS MONOLOGUE ABOUT RUTH. IM GONNA SOB SO FUCKING HARD. “i’ll make you proud ruth” IIIII HATE IT HERE. SO MUCH. also “the darkness followed me home” i will cry so hard dont play with me

[ 𝟏𝟔:𝟑𝟎 — 𝟏𝟕:𝟑𝟎]

Thatcher’s room is just like mine for real.

JESUS I FORGOT THIS SERIES WAS AN ANALOG HORROR FOR A SECOND. GOD I HATE IT. the idea of something being in your house but not DOING ANYTHING. GOD. LIKE NOT MOVING SHIT AROUND OR PROWLING. JUST STARING AT YOU. FUCK. AND ITS JUST THERE LIKE “🧍 lemme talk to you about your car’s extended warranty”

the fact that thatcher and his alternate are having a staring contest has me cracking tf up. they like: “LOL HELLO??”

[ 𝟏𝟕:𝟑𝟐 — 𝟏𝟖:𝟐𝟗 ]

OH THE LADY WHO WORKED WITH DAVE WAS EVELIN IM AN IDIOT BAHSHSH. but omg dave is in SHOCK. THE GLASSES CAME OFF. him finding out evelin went through the shit >>>> but him firing her :(

[ 𝟏𝟖:𝟑𝟎 — 𝟏𝟗:𝟒𝟒]

omg. HES TAKING O’BRIEN’S OFFER AHHHHH

“remembrance”. oh dear.

OH MY GOD THATCHERS ALTERNATE? MOVING IN REAL TIME? HHHHHH. AND HE CALLED OFF ALL UNITS? EUGHHHHH. god alex is so talented with his cgi i stg. and the emphasis on how INHUMAN those face movements are. eghhhhhhh. that was some chameleon shit i stg.

(19:17) BRO BACK UPPPPPPPP. GOD BAHSHSHS. got ALL UP IN YOUR FACE, JEEZ. anyways.

“dead or alive you’re no use to these people” i will cry. thatcher :(

“a scared boy with a gun” AHHHHHHHH

[ 𝟐𝟎:𝟎𝟎 — 𝟐𝟏:𝟑𝟐]

him writing his letter to ruth. :( GOD I JUST WANT THEM TO BE HAPPYYYYYYY. I WANT THEM TO HUG, AND BE PEACEFUL. GODDDDDD

oh no he’s crying :( . THE ACTING IS SO GOOD IM GONNA CRY OML. thatcher is so sad dude. :((( “now your dead ‘cause i was so fucking scared” HNNNNNNNNNNNN.

so i’m gonna assume that thatcher is dead now? :( i hate it here.

[ 𝟐𝟐:𝟐𝟖 — 𝟐𝟑:𝟓𝟕 ]

youtube closed captions this is not applause.

adam what is this capcut ass video BAHAHSHHSS. COULDNT EVEN GET JONAH’S PICTURE IN 😭. A THREE SECOND “a celebration of life” BRO OF WHO’S? 🤨 HOW TF ARE THE SUBSCRIBERS SUPPOSED TO KNOW WHO YOURE TALKING ABOUT SHAWTY 🙄 god this kills me SKSKS

ADAM THIS ISNT ANY BETTER BAHSHSHHSHS. this man is READING A SCRIPT, BRUH. “jonah passed away peacefully” now you know damn well.

[ 𝟐𝟑:𝟓𝟖 — 𝟐𝟔:𝟏𝟓]

oh shit we got home footage now. ALSO CAN I JUST SAY? NIGHT VISION CAMERA’S ARE FREAKY AS HELL. i cant tell if its just normal motion blur/it tryna refocus or if theres ACTUALLY SMTH THERE.

omg its the preacher’s (or was it the messenger? idk) image. heyyyyyyyyy

OH WAIT ITS A DRAWING. i cant make out the words on it though. 😞 but the sentence itself looks like it was cut off, so even if i could read it it’d be incomplete.

BRO WHO’S HOUSE IS THIS? WHY ARE THE DOORS SO FUCKING TALL?? WHY IS EVERYTHING STRETCHED OUT?? is it just the lens or is this house ACTUALLY just wonky as hell.

ooo what’re we covering up??

DAMN JONAH WAS 21? and the mf’s middle name was edmund.

oh no.

this funky ass text is really gettin me. also adam really just spitting some hot philosophy to evelin 🤨 damn. tbh if i was told even HALF the shit he was told i’d be mad too.

(25:20) bro this video. oh dear oh dear oh dear oh dear. also had me thinking that my youtube was buffering but nah thats just the video sksksk.

[ 𝟐𝟔:𝟏𝟔 — 𝟐𝟔:𝟐𝟐]

ooooo correspondence. alex is really THRIVING with words ending in “ence/ance” 😩😩

[ 𝟐𝟔:𝟐𝟑 — 𝟐𝟖:𝟎𝟎 ]

i have. no words. absolutely NO WORDS BAHAHSH. this post really just. sums up my thoughts SKKSS. nah but?? face studio 2 ??? where tf is the first one? anyways that demonstration video was freaky but i find it hilarious that alternates are sittin at their lil desktops customising their face <3 BAHSHHSS.

[ 𝟐𝟖:𝟎𝟏 — 𝟐𝟖:𝟐𝟖 ]

oh dear it transitioned to home footage. oh my.

OH. OH OKAY. WOW UM. HELLO MISS LYNN’S BODY

i’m assuming thats the intruder’s face in the corner. but the phrase ‘a thriving society’ with this image is. eugh.

“a thriving society of followers of the true saviour(?)” is that what was said? there was a lot more after that but after the word ‘true’ i could hardly make anything out.

okay everyone hold tf on because i’m about to try and make out what he’s saying at 28:03

“a thriving society of followers of the true saviour. his entangled (?) limbs danced around my bedroom. i held my breath. and waited for it to stop. i was too scared.” then it glitched out from there, but i assume it repeated some of the stuff already said???

hey stinky.

[ 𝟐𝟖:𝟐𝟗 — 𝟑𝟏:𝟐𝟗 ]

OMG HEY EVELINNNNNNN.

omg wait she’s looking for thatcher. 😰😰😰 oh dear oh me oh my.

(29:48–30:00) GOD these long pauses are unsettling as hell SKSKSK.

(30:06) thatcher?? hello sir. i guess my earlier thought about him being dead was wrong SKSKSK. BUT IM GLAD(?) AT LEAST? i’d miss him for real. ALSO HEY DAVES BACKKKKKKKK.

dave sounds like he’s been crying. i mean i could be completely wrong and it’s probably just the audio editing but man.

“how much of that was really worth it though” i mean he got a point.

“find a new meaning in life” the fact that he’s saying that to THATCHER hits.

[ 𝟑𝟏:𝟑𝟎 — 𝟑𝟏:𝟑𝟒 ]

malignance. alex here again with the SAT words 😩😩

[ 𝟑𝟏:𝟑𝟓 — 𝟑𝟐:𝟏𝟒]

Evelin’s sitting at Thatcher’s desk, oooooooooo

MISS MA’AM WHY ARE YOU LOOKING THROUGH HIS DRAWERS SKSKSK.

[ 𝟑𝟐:𝟏𝟓 — 𝟑𝟑:𝟒𝟕 ]

i love the cgi and backgrounds and shit. gives me early black and white movie vibes. or even some later films and edward scissorhands beats.

OMG DAVE. IS AT THE CHURCH?? oh shit that means i’ve gotten to the moment everyone’s RAVING about.

O’Brien’s become an alternate hasn’t he. the inflection in his voice is off.

(33:25) IM SORRY? DID THE HEAVEN’S THEMSELVES JUST FUCKING OPEN? HELLO?

[ 𝟑𝟑:𝟓𝟎 — 𝟑𝟓:𝟏𝟓 ]

FUCKING GABRIEL IS BACK AHHHHHHHHHHHH. idk how to feel about this disney villain ass voice though.

(33:56) ew i hate featureless figures so much HHHHHHH THE SCARE FACTORS ARE STILL HERE

bro gabriel really is the joker rn good lord SKSKS. but him impersonating O’Brien’s(?) voice. AHHHHHH

omg wait, ive been seeing things say that dave offed himself (which is likely true) but im gonna assume that the dark substance running from his eyes is blood?? in my head that IMMEDIATELY makes me thing of how you should never look an angel(?) in the eye (i think thats the thing), because you won’t be able to comprehend it. even though he 99% offed himself i think to thing he died from looking gabriel in the eyes.

okay i take that back there’s blood pooling from his head. he likely threw himself off a ledge or smth.

also hi gabey wabey would you be interested in maybe. NOT? DOING THIS?

[ 𝟑𝟓:𝟏𝟔 — 𝟑𝟕:𝟎𝟗 ]

oooo we got evelin lookin through some filessssss. and theyre ADAM’S FILES, OOOOOOOOOO.

okay so adam is also 21. gotcha gotcha. so adam was 4 when he was yoinked through the TV.

OH! adam didn’t react to anything on the toddler stress assessment? oh jeez. this kid’s got some guts ig idk. SKSKS.

(35:59) BRO DID SOMEONE LOCK EVELIN IN? THOSE LEVERS ARE FOR LOCKS, RIGHT, or maybe alarms or smth idk.

oh shit oh shit.

“Mr. Davis?” LITERALLY ANYTHING BUT.

(whoever) SET OFF THE ALARM?? MANNNNNNNNNNNNNN. alarm systems are scary as hell dude my god. got me thinking of purge sirens.

OH HELLLLLLL NO. i really like the use of the spinning siren lights to create atmosphere though. vv nice <3

[ 𝟑𝟕:𝟏𝟎 — 𝟑𝟗:𝟎𝟗 ]

omg the messaging sequences are back. and SOMEONE’S BEEN TRYING TO CONTACT HIM? HELLO?

“Hello! We have been trying to contact ADAM MURRAY. Is this you? Please confirm YES or NO” “Hello! We have been trying to contact ADAM MURRAY. Is this you? Please confirm YES ”

unsettling as hell.

OH! HELLO THERE!

STANLEY??? YOU’RE TELLING ME THAT THIS WAS STANLEY THIS WHOLEEEEEEE FUCKING TIME?? AHHHHHHHHHH.

“with contorted flesh and broken bones i made myself known” aw he just wants a friend SKSKSK.

“your skin is not your own” UM!!!! also ngl i never expected him to be so gentle with the children he takes.

“you are not the real you.” SIR?!?!?! SIRRRRRR??

[ 𝟑𝟗:𝟏𝟑 — 𝟒𝟎:𝟓𝟑 ] ; 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬

uh. wow okay. SKSKS. THERE WAS SO MUCH IN HERE AND I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS. which i will try to compile in an actual post that isn’t my own brain dumb. <3. but uhh

“I deceived them. the mandela prophet. it begins today” wow thats cryptic. then pictures of ADAMS FACE? HHHHHH. okay anyways if you made this far ily. <3

#; poo talk #; tmc rant #mandela catalogue

3 notes · View notes

fanby-fckry · 9 months ago

Text

So, tumblr discourse is already like, infamously ridiculous, right? How much worse do you think it’d get on voxblr?

Source: voxblr.vox #unreality cw #meta post #hellaverse #hazbin hotel #helluva boss

( 6 notes )

🕸️ angie-fluffy-bootz Follow

24 min. ago

time sensitive question how flirt boy

🕸️ angie-fluffy-bootz Follow

2 min. ago

thanks guys

Source: voxblr.vox #the fucking radio demon parody account replied to my post #with extremely UNHELPFUL advice #and charlie #is your advice unisex? #bcuz if thats how you got vaggie #im judging you both

( 697 notes )

⚪️ Anonymous said r u dead?

📻 real-radio-demon Follow

4 hr. ago

Ha! Bold of you to assume I can be killed :)

📻 real-radio-demon Follow

4 hr. ago

Show your face and per’’haps,’,’. I’ll come~.to you

🎀 charlies-angel Follow

32 min. ago

This account is fake. Nobody knows where Alastor is, anon. Stop wasting your time.

#this parody account is in really poor taste

( 14,581 notes )

🕸️ angie-fluffy-bootz Follow

Jul 1

if I make it outta this alive, I’m gonna tell my crush I’m in love with him.

🕸️ angie-fluffy-bootz Follow

Jul 1

fuck

🕸️ angie-fluffy-bootz Follow

1 hr. ago

ya know, I don’t think I’ve confessed to someone and meant it in over a decade?

🕸️ angie-fluffy-bootz Follow

53 min. ago

haha would it be crazy if I said I forgot how?

#its literally part of my job to flirt with people #then i catch feelings and suddenly #i get all tongue-tied #i cant fall back on my old scripts either #he hates bullshit #he wants me #the real me #but the real me doesnt know how to do this!!!

( 268 notes )

💀 be-gay-do-crym Follow

2 hr. ago

apparently people are canceling @.niffty-lady ? wtf?

🌕 m00nlight-h0wling 🌔 Follow

1 hr. ago

they are and it’s actually the stupidest thing i’ve ever seen

#and the bar was really fucking low #considering the amount of dumb chaotic bullshit my dad gets into ↯ #niffty lady

( 22 notes )

👓 creepz0 Follow

3 hr. ago

It’s time to CANCEL @.niffty-lady

Here’s why:

Niffty LITERALLY KILLED a man in cold blood and now PROFITS off of his death

This so-called “lady” is INCREDIBLY rude to fans, ignoring requests leaving fans on read and answering asks with a NASTY attitude. NOT very lady-like if you ask me

Is associated with the VERY PROBLEMATIC @.real-radio-demon (self explanatory)

Writes TOXIC and PROBLEMATIC ships (spidermoth, radiohusk, reylo 🤢)

Writes NSFW when she herself is CHILD-CODED

PROOF is under the cut ⬇️

. Keep reading

#callout post ↯ #niffty lady #anti niffty lady #niffty critical

( 5,101 notes )

📻 real-radio-demon Follow

3 hr. ago

Despite popular belief, I am not dead!

Well, not any deader than I’ve been since 1933! Hahaha!

↯ #is alastor dead? #ha! no ↯ #alastor the radio demon #real radio demon broadcasts

( 147,381 notes )

⚪️ Anonymous said isn’t it disrespectful to write fics about someone you killed irl?

🪡 niffty-lady 📠 Follow

4 hr. ago

I have no respect for Adam. Hope this helps! <3

#answered ask #anon ask

( 136,247 notes )

📺 voxblr4k ☑️ ☑️ ☑️ Follow

5 hr. ago

Is the radio demon dead?

. 96,460 votes • remaining time 6 days, 19 hours

#polls ↯ #alastor the radio demon ↯ #is alastor dead?

( 19,292 notes )

🪡 niffty-lady 📠 Follow

6 hr. ago

🍑 Forbidden Fruit 🍑

Adam x Reader | 10k words | Rated E

⚠️ Major Character Death

Tags: Smut, Whump, Sinner Reader, Forbidden Love, Bad Ending

After a night of reckless passion, you quickly became Archangel Adam’s favorite sin. Your love, as forbidden as the fruit of Eden, was destined to end in tragedy.

https://archiveofoursouls.hell/works/63595697

#niffty lady fic #adam x reader #angel x sinner #sinner reader #smut #whump #forbidden love #bad ending #rpf #aoos link #aoos fanfic

( 49,933 notes )

📻 real-radio-demon Follow

6 hr. ago

Well, it looks like I’ve got some time on my hands!

I’m sure many of you have burning questions you’d like answered

So, ask. me. any’,thing. :)

#ask me anything #ama ↯ #alastor the radio demon #real radio demon broadcasts

( 16,628 notes )

🐍 x-hiss-lord-x ☑️ ☑️ 🦀 👟 Follow

Dec 12, 2019

i can't have beef with the power of friendship trope because if someone wanted to hang out with me i'd probably reconsider my stance on turning the city into the 10th circle of hell

🐍 x-hiss-lord-x ☑️ ☑️ 🦀 👟 Follow

Dec 12, 2019

besides i can always just redirect my dark urges towards being violently protective of my new friends. there's no rule that says you can't do that.

🌈 hells-disney-princess Follow

7 hr. ago

I found Sir Pentious’s old voxblr blog, and I think I’m gonna cry

🌈 hells-disney-princess Follow

7 hr. ago

He made the ultimate sacrifice to protect his friends and the hotel during the extermination. He did exactly what he said he would in this post.

I wish I could thank him for everything he did for us. And I wish I could’ve done a better job of protecting him.

I don’t know where Souls go when they get erased; I don’t know if they go anywhere at all. But I hope that wherever Sir Pentious is now, he’s with people that he considers his friends.

Source: voxblr.vox #rip Sir Pentious #we miss you 😢

( 348 notes )

📻 real-radio-demon Follow

8 hr. ago

↯ #alastor the radio demon #real radio demon broadcasts #the ink spots #we’ll meet again #Voxify

( 4,102 notes )

⬜️ voxblrverse-meta Follow

9 hr. ago

Fanby’s Fake Dash Masterpost

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inbarfink · 2 years ago

Text

I’ve seen some interpretations of the Rocky Horror Picture Show that compare Frank to the Christian Devil and/or the Serpent of Eden. And… it’s not like that doesn’t make sense. Frank is a tempter who stands against the restraint of the explicitly Christian morality of the mainstream culture our protagonists come from. The Criminologist even calls his temptation of Brad and Janet a “forbidden fruit”. But… I just think that’s not the only angle one can take when looking at Frank. Frank is many things both as an in-universe person and a narrative character. But we are first and foremost introduced to him, before we even get a chance to see him, as a Frankenstein Pastiche.

Is it any wonder that he does such a good job of playing God?

Like any good Postmodern Prometheus, Frank creates new life, but this goes beyond just Rocky. It’s Brad and Janet who are kind of the Adam and Eve in this comparison, and while Frank didn’t literally create them with mad science - he did re-make them in his own image.

(And after first turning them to stone - a form of earth - and then back to flesh)

Also, if we're looking at the Frankenstein's Place as a sort of twisted Garden of Eden - a place where Brad and Janet lose their innocence, gain greater knowledge and understanding of themselves, commit a transgression by giving into temptation, and then get cast down to Earth unsure of what to do with what they have learned - then Frank as the Master of the castle, who first welcome Brad and Janet but eventually then targets them with furious punishment, fits much better playing the role of God than a random snake or even the Devil himself.

Yes, it's a weird-reverse-sort-of-God whose creed is exactly the opposite of the Conservative Christian God in whose church Ralph and Betty got married - but this is already a weird-reverse-sort-of-Eden as well. Adam and Eve started off so 'innocent' in that they felt no shame about their nude bodies, and when they lost said innocence is also when they started feeling the need to cover up. Brad and Janet’s 'innocent' state has them dressed very modestly, and their 'corruption' is marked by them... well, they're never fully naked, but certainly gradually get more confortable walking around in their underwears or lingerie.

And following the narrative thread of this weird-reverse-Garden-of-Eden, the real Forbidden Fruit isn’t actually Frank’s dick, it’s Rocky. The Garden of Eden was this wonderland of earthly delights where Adam and Eve could pertake of any fruit they desired.... except for the Tree of Wisdom. That was the one pleasure they were forbidden from. And the Frankenstein’s Place is similarly a paradise of desires - just less of a fruitbowl and more of the Sex, Drugs and Rock n’ Roll variety - but the one thing you can’t do, the one person you’re not allowed to have sex with... is Rocky.

And I think the interesting question here is ‘why is Rocky the one thing that’s off-limits in Frank’s Fantastic FuckCastle?’. Because, well, if we look at it from an Eden Perspective, here’s what the Serpent had to say about the subject of the Fruit of Knowledge:

Eating the Forbidden Fruit isn’t just about succumbing to mortal pleasures about godly morality or whatever, it’s about becoming kinda like God. And maybe that’s the real reason why Frank’s so upset about the idea that Rocky has slept with someone else. It’s less actual romantic jealousy and more... galling at the idea that someone else can tempt his Significant Other to cheat on him. That’s his thing!

And like, espacially since Janet has that line in “Touch-A-Touch-A-Touch-A-Touch Me”

Which I always read as a kind of admission that she’s like... exploiting Rocky’s desire for an emotional connection for own sexual pleasures. She is maybe falling into this very Frank-Brand of hedonistic manipulativeness. Her newfound knowledge of her sexuality is making her more like ‘God’ in a way, and now this God is pissed about that idea.

And this also does places a ‘Serpent’ figure in our Garden of Eden and that’s Riff-Raff. It’s through his manipulation of events that Janet get offered that Forbidden Himbo in the first place. He probably wasn’t really counting on it directly, more like just causing random chaos in the hopes of distracting Frank long enough to prepre for the coup. But still, without Riff-Raff and Magenta’s tormenting of Rocky, he wouldn’t have fallen in Janet’s lap like this.

And I think, this is taking very directly from the Christian interpetation of the Garden of Eden myth, where the Serpent is retconned as Satan. Riff-Raff is, after all, a resentful servant planning to usurp his master out of jealousy and uses the humans as pawns in his scheme to do that. If Frank is playing God, than Riff-Raff is clearly playing Devil here!

And, like the pitchfork is OBVIOUSLY a reference to the American Gothic motif but... there’s no reason why you couldn’t also connect it to a Satanic motif? Especially as, with Frank being a Reverse-God who preaches for sin and pleasure, Riff-Raff is a Devil of... well, I dunno if he necessarily believes in all of that sexual conservatism stuff - but he’s certainly willing to use it as an excuse for his personal beef with Frank! Either way the point remains, the pitchfork ties together the concepts of traditionalism and sexual shame, as symbolized by American Gothic, with the Devil.

#rocky horror picture show #rocky horror show #rocky horror #janet weiss #riff raff #dr. frank n. furter #frank n furter #dr frank n furter

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astaroth1357 · 4 years ago

Text

Demigod MC Series: Hades

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades

Lucifer

Well… this is awkward…

He’s actually met Hades multiple times for business reasons (Underworld-Devildom relations are amiable if not a little odd. Hades was something of an uncle figure to Diavolo as a wee demon lad, which should speak for itself really). He’s a gloomy fellow and not much for chit-chat, but he never thought they’d end up taking one of his kids by accident…

He had to send a formal apology letter to the Lord of the Underworld immediately, but thankfully he didn’t seem very concerned for his offspring - if anything he appeared to think the Devildom would suit them nicely which was… concerning.

And he was not wrong. The darkness, demons, ghouls, and frights of the Devildom hardly seemed to faze the MC, if anything they fit right in. He’d dare say they were thriving if not for one thing…

They were So. Damn. Bleak.

Getting a smile out of this one AT ALL was rare. For once he felt the need to check up on someone constantly just to be sure they were alright... They’d keep assuring the House that they’re not actually as sad as they look but it’s hard not to assume…

He was a little mortified at first when they first met Cerberus cause… well they called him “Cerbi” and the massive demonic guard dog rolled over for them like a Golden Retriever!

Apparently he and the Cerberus that they knew are from the same litter and they must have smelt familiar... He would have probably limited their interactions just to keep his dog on his side but after seeing the MC smile for once while they played with the big oaf well…

Cerberus got a new playmate and the MC got a massive, three-headed therapy animal. Win-win. 😌

Mammon

Do ya really gotta be such a downer all the time, MC…? 😔

He thinks they’re nice, like really nice. They’re always super concerned when his brothers attack him or when he gets injured, but he’s pretty sure it’s because they’ve seen people die before so…

At first, he had no idea why he had to be saddled with this depressing wisp of mortal but over time he started to understand that they weren’t all that sad. They had… Resting Gloom Face? Is that a thing?

They also had a different way of seeing things. He could win the lottery and they’d tell him to stay inside so he wouldn’t get hit by lightning or if he pissed off the wrong people, they’d joke about him keeping his fingers and toes. Dark stuff, but not intended to be so… well morbid.

However, what he eventually found out that the REAL advantage to having a Hades kid in the Devildom was that nothing scared them. Literally nothing. Not even the ghosts - which to reiterate, are terrifying!

Cue Mammon getting dragged to horror movies nights with his brothers and pulling the MC along to be his personal security blanket. He’ll hold onto them for dear life as they just pat his head or something, watching and not even flinching at the jumpscares.

The first time the House had an unexpected power outage he clung onto the back of their shirt like a lost child while they calmly looked for the circuit-breaker...

If he could jump into their arms every time something scary happened like Scooby-Doo, he absolutely would. His brothers make fun of him, but after seeing the MC handle Cerberus like a puppy any time something frightens them they hide behind the mortal as well…

Leviathan

In some ways, he totally relates to their moodiness but come on! Who can still look so sad when watching The Magical Ruri Hanai: Demon Girl?? Ruri-chan can make anyone smile! 😠

When he first met the MC, he was a little confused about why they didn't find him intimidating at all. He even reverted to his demon form and showed his fangs but no dice! All they said was, "I've walked along the edge of Tartarus. You're gonna have to try a lot harder than that, buddy…"

That was probably his first sign that the "human" wasn't normal…

After Mammon told him who their Dad was, things made a lot more sense. A child of Hades in the Devildom? That's ironic enough to be its own anime plot!! They certainly felt like an angsty protagonist at times. 🤷‍♀️

Truth be told, they could relate to each other in a lot of ways. You wouldn't think that an offspring of the Underworld and a demonic shut-in would have much in common but the one thing they share between them is that sense of never really fitting in.

Turns out that Hades kids are black sheep, even among other demigods, and Levi? Well, he's had trouble relating to others since his angel days. He and the mortal were like off-beat kindred spirits!

Which, I mean, you wouldn't get just by looking at them together. Levi being the impassioned super-otaku rambling their ear off while his somber companion would just go along with him quietly, but hey, there's more beneath the surface. Probably.

Now if he could just get them to cosplay as the Lord of Emptiness with him… They'd be perfect! Perfect he says!!

Satan

Highly considered drugging their food with antidepressants for a while…

This was before getting to know them better, of course, but for the first couple months he honestly couldn't shake the feeling that the mortal looked miserable!

Now, he's one to particularly care for the comfort of strangers, but just looking at them like that every day would sour his own mood quite considerably. It was very irritating...

It was only on closer inspection that he realized there was something else at play, though.

The mortal was different - even for a demigod he imagined. They took to the Devildom easily and the realm almost accepted them right back!

The flora looked better in their presence, the hellish beasts that roamed the wilds would roll over for them, and they even seemed to be welcomed in by the never-ending shadows…

It was fascinating. Like the effects of the Underworld were baked into their DNA and mingled with the environment around them… Two layers of darkness coexisting within one person.

I mean, what other creature - other than Lucifer - could ride Cerberus around like a pony??

Had they not been so kind, they'd probably scare him shit-less... Their potential power was too great to ignore. But after getting used to their gloom, at least they made for pleasant company. 🤷‍♀️

Satan likes them well enough, but even still he has to wonder just what they were capable of… you know?

Asmodeus

Oh. My. WORD. What a buzzkill!!!

Really, the new mortal was no good at parties or pictures for that matter!

Not because they looked bad, or even because he couldn't get them to smile, but because GHOSTS would always photobomb any pictures they were in!! 😫

One time he got a selfie with them on the couch and a creepy ghost child could be seen hiding behind the cushions so NOPE. No more photos with the mortal around!!

Aside from that, he couldn't say the mortal was all bad or anything…They were pretty friendly, despite their general look and feel.

Though, personally, he thought they wore far too much black... Even in the Devildom, there's normally a pop of color, you know? Was that just the Hades dress code?

And you want to know the weirdest thing? Despite everything about them screaming "Doom and Gloom," they're straaaangely popular among the RAD dating scene…

Like. Not as some heartthrob, "Love'em and Leave'em"-type, but he's found that there's a LOT of his demonic classmates who think they're cute or have a crush on them in some way…

Naturally, he can see the appeal of the mysterious, moody demigod with a dark, troubled past. It's just the demigod in question is completely oblivious to it! 🤷‍♀️

He tried to give them dating tips or play matchmaker from time to time but eventually gave up when it was clear they weren't interested. Alas, students of RAD, this is one forbidden fruit that refuses to be shared…! Such a tragedy… 😔

Beelzebub

They remind him of Belphie… like. A lot.

The similarities were obvious. They had a similar feel, made similar jokes, and even the same somewhat dreary attitude about them...

If he were being honest, at the beginning there were times when he'd open up to them a lot more than he intended because he'd forget that he wasn't actually talking to Belphie…

Thankfully, he knew better than to try and treat them like his replacement or anything. They were two different people after all. But it didn't stop him from feeling extra protective around them for a while.

Besides, there was ONE thing that set them leagues apart from Belphie and that was the fact they were a shit cook. Not quite as bad as Solomon but uh… Actually no, that's a closer call than it has any right to be...

Apparently, Hades kids don't need to eat as much and when you hang out with shades and skeletons for most of your life, you don’t really worry about making food that's any better than… "Well, technically it's edible." 🤷‍♀️

Their food won't kill a person like Solomon's, but you WILL start seeing stuff you probably shouldn't. He tried their "soup" once and swore he saw the ghost of his mother… and he doesn't even have a mother!!!

He swears that if he ever sees the MC and Solomon working together in the same kitchen he's skipping town… Whatever culinary abomination the two of them could create would probably gain sentience and eat HIM instead. He's always figured he'd go out with Death by Food, but not like that!! 😫

Belphegor

Ever meet someone who’s like looking in a mirror? Yeah, he’s getting those vibes…

He never expected the "human" to be so similar to him, it was kind of uncanny.

Upon first laying eyes on each other there was a pause… then a squint… and then… a nod.

Honestly, their combined dry wit, dark humor, and pessimistic outlook played off of each other surprisingly well. Too well for him to hate, really.

Not that it mattered because they didn’t believe him for a second when he tried to trick them (they had dealt with loads of lying monsters before). He hated to admit it, but they had a good head on their shoulders and knew better than to trust a locked up demon…

And yet, they seemed to stick around with him anyway. Because of the good conversation or just empathizing with his loneliness was anyone's guess. 🤷‍♀️

Sometimes they'd come up and sit outside the door in comfortable silence… Or they'd talk about whatever:

MC: *sitting out by the attic with their back against the door* So what happens to demons when they die…?

Belphie: *laying on the floor on the other side, staring at the ceiling* Depends on the kind. If I die, I'll just reform later.

MC: Like a reincarnation?

Belphie: Eh. *shrugs* Maybe. Haven't died yet.

MC: You could die in there, you know.

Belphie: *throws a side glare* Well thanks for bringing that up…

MC: *shrugs* What? It's true. But don't worry, I won't let you. *small-ish smile*

Belphie: *stares at them wide-eyed and pink-cheeked before turning on his side quickly* Ugh… whatever…

They did their word, somehow. They eventually got the door open and let him out, but by that time the anger was gone and he was just happy to finally talk to them face-to-face...

And good thing too, because apparently it's not smart to fight a death-child in what is essentially their element - as he saw when they summoned an army of skeletons to kick Levi's ass when he cheated them in Devil Cart...

He would not have lasted in that fight... Dodged a bullet there.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me demigods #obey me scenarios

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junghelioseok · 4 years ago

Text

clandestine. | 05

↳ forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest.

◇ jungkook x reader ◇ smut | fluff | brother’s best friend!au ◇ 7.6k [5/6]

notes: second to last installment of a fic that didn’t need to be as long as it is!!! really this entire thing can be summed up with last chapter’s warning, which was “reader is dumb and jungkook is slutty.” i stand by it, okay!!! 🤷🏻‍♀️

warnings: dumb banter, a couple brief smutty bits, oral (f receiving), listen to slow dancing in the dark by joji during the soft smut scene in the middle if u want

⇢ 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06

“No. No. God, no. Has your music taste always been this bad, or is this a recent development?”

“You will excuse yourself,” you retort sharply, wagging a finger at your brother. “Mr. Brightside is a classic and I will not hear this slander. Please feel free to permanently vacate the premises if you disagree.”

Jimin rolls his eyes from where he’s slouched on the couch beside you, one hand submerged in a bag of chips and his bare feet kicked up on the coffee table. “You’re so dramatic.”

“I’m dramatic? Really? You wanna go there, Chim?” You raise your hand and begin ticking off on your fingers. “I’m not the one who threw a fit over a piece of cilantro in my taco. I’m not the one who refused to bathe when Mom couldn’t find the right bubble bath.”

“Oh my god, I was eight,” Jimin snorts. “Both times. And cilantro tastes like soap.”

You raise a third finger. “What about the time you hid all the Monopoly money because you kept losing? Or when yo—”

A knock on the door cuts you off mid-sentence, and you nudge Jimin’s shin with your big toe. “Go get the door,” you order, and you aren’t sure if he’s just tired of hearing your voice, but he stands up without complaint and wanders into the entryway to receive your unexpected guest.

“Hey,” you hear him say. “What’s up?”

“Hey,” a very familiar voice replies. “I need some help.”

It’s Jungkook. Of course it’s Jungkook. You haven’t seen him since he dropped you off and kissed you senseless in your driveway, but you’d have to be delusional to think that you could avoid him for the next week and a half before you leave to return to Seoul. And yet, you allowed yourself to indulge in your delusions for two full days, before he tears them apart with ten simple, innocent words.

“So, I think I might have done the laundry wrong.”

Jimin laughs out loud, covering his mouth with his hand. “That’s all you, Noona,” he says, glancing over his shoulder at you, and you don’t even have wherewithal to lecture him about the sexism of his remark because Jungkook is smirking like he’s just won the lottery and you’re his grand prize.

“Noona?” he begins, his voice syrupy sweet and thick with intent. “Can you come help me?”

You glance down at your pajamas—gray sweatpants and a pink Pusheen t-shirt that’s a couple sizes too big. It’s beyond obvious that you have no plans for the day, and therefore no excuse not to help. Heaving a resigned sigh, you clamber to your feet and roll your eyes when Jimin immediately flops down across the newly abandoned couch and lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Have fun,” he calls lazily as you walk out, and you do your best to ignore the wicked grin that flashes across Jungkook’s face.

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll find a way to make it fun,” he says as he lets you pass by him to exit the house. “See you later, Jimin.”

As soon as the front door slams shut, you round on him with a glare. “Are you serious, Jungkook?” you hiss. “He’s totally going to catch on to… to whatever it is we’re doing.”

“You’re being paranoid,” Jungkook chides, clicking his tongue. He hops over the low bushes that divide your property, and waits patiently as you skirt around them. You follow him into his house—down the hallway and into a little side room that houses the washing machine and dryer—and as soon as the door swings shut, he’s grabbing you by the hips and pulling you close.

“This—this isn’t how you do laundry,” you stammer weakly, winded by his sudden proximity and the dark promise in his eyes. “What the hell are you doing?”

Jungkook chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest. “I may have lied a little bit. Would you have come if I hadn’t?”

You don’t answer, because you know he’s right. If you had your way, you would have avoided him until it was time for you to leave again. But Jungkook just doesn’t seem to be willing to let that happen, as he tightens his grip on your hips and tugs until you’re flush against him.

“See, the truth of the matter is, I’m actually good at laundry.” He smirks and tilts his head, dark bangs flopping across his forehead. “I’m good at other things, too. Why don’t you let me show you?”

Attraction blooms in your belly, hot as molten lava, and it takes the last ounce of your wavering restraint to say what you say next. “We can’t take too long,” you whisper, letting him hoist you up onto the dryer and jab the start button. The machine rumbles to life beneath you, and you nearly lose your train of thought when the vibrations go straight to your clit. “Jimin!” you gasp. “Jimin—he’ll kill you if he finds out. He’ll fillet your dick with a dull knife and serve it over rice.”

Jungkook raises an eyebrow. “Why are you talking about your brother? Is this your idea of dirty talk, princess? Because I gotta tell you—it’s not doing it for me.”

“Jungkook!” you chide, and he grins and moves to tug off your shirt.

“That’s much better.”

///

In the days that follow your laundry room tryst with Jungkook, sneaking around becomes routine. Both of your parents work—as do his—so avoiding them is easy. Jimin, however, is a different story. The dance classes he teaches are irregular, and the schedule shifts often enough that you’ve come dangerously close to getting caught on more than one occasion.

And it certainly doesn’t help when Jungkook has taken to texting you at all hours of the day, even when you’re eating a sandwich on the couch with Jimin half-sprawled across your lap in his effort to invade your personal space as much as possible.

[12:35pm] Jungkook: hey i just thought of something

[12:35pm] Jungkook: you know how i call you princess?

You nearly throw your phone across the room. Cautiously, you glance at your brother, who is glued to the television and doesn’t seem to notice anything amiss.

[12:36pm] You: yeah…

His response is instantaneous.

[12:36pm] Jungkook: well i’ve got a throne for you to sit on

You almost sigh out loud. Please don’t, you write back, and you practically hear Jungkook’s cackle in your head as the ellipses that indicate he’s typing pop up at the bottom of your screen.

[12:37pm] Jungkook: it’s my dick ;)

[12:37pm] Jungkook: get it?

I fucking hate you, you tell him, thumbs flying across the keyboard.

[12:38pm] Jungkook: and i love fucking you

[12:38pm] Jungkook: princess ;)

///

After nearly a week cooped up at your parents’ house, you’re getting restless. Without a car, you’re confined to the suburban neighborhood you grew up in, and the revelation that you’re bored somehow spills out to Jungkook during one of the many heated makeout sessions you’ve started having in the backseat of his sedan.

“Do you want to go somewhere?” he’d asked, tilting his head curiously, mussed hair falling across his eyes. “I can drive you, if you want.”

And that’s how you find yourself wandering around downtown Busan on a beautiful Tuesday afternoon. Jungkook drops you off at the curb after cumming down your throat, and now that he’s dashed off to work the lunch shift at the restaurant, you’re free to explore all of your old haunts. The shopping center that you and your friends used to frequent is right around the corner, so that’s where you decide to start. After all, you’re still in need of some professional attire, and as much as you love your mom, you’d rather avoid the unflattering dresses and itchy pantyhose she would be sure to seek out.

As soon as you step through the glass revolving doors, you find yourself in a familiar air-conditioned paradise of shops and restaurants. Stopping at your favorite coffee spot, you treat yourself to an iced mocha before heading to the first store.

Two hours and three full bags later, you decide to head to the food court for a quick snack. You’d promised Jungkook that you’d meet him at the restaurant once you were finished, but a glance at your phone tells you that you have more than enough time to stop by Kim’s Kitchen. Mrs. Kim makes the best cookies in the entire city, as far as you’re concerned, and you decide to order a dozen to take home and share with your family.

You’re lowering yourself into a seat at one of the many tables scattered around the tree-lined atrium when you spot a familiar head of strawberry blonde hair. The owner spots you a split second later, and you return her smile as she immediately swerves and heads your way. “{Name}, hey!”

“Hey, Chaeyoung,” you greet, gesturing for her to take the chair on the other side of the table. “What are you doing here?”

“Same thing as you, from the looks of it.” She grins and hefts her shopping bag. “I swear I’ve been to every shoe store and still haven’t found what I’m looking for, but somehow I’ve bought this much crap anyway. What about you? What are you on the hunt for?”

“Professional attire,” you say with a grimace. “Why are pants so hard to find? I swear, they’re all either too long or too short, and never fit properly in the waist and thighs.”

Chaeyoung pulls a face. “Ew, I know. Pantsuits are a nightmare unless you have a tailor. And who has money for that?”

You laugh, nodding in agreement. “So what are you up to now? Mrs. Kim has cookies fresh out of the oven, if you’re interested. Cinnamon rolls too, I think.”

“Ooh, that’s tough,” she says thoughtfully, tapping her chin. “Would it be bad if I got both?”

“Not even a little bit,” you assure, reaching into your box and pulling out a cookie. “But here, I’ll make it easier for you. Hope you like chocolate chip.”

Chaeyoung gratefully accepts the cookie you hand over. “Who doesn’t love chocolate chip?” she asks, taking a bite.

“Criminals and heathens,” you reply, snagging a cookie for yourself. “Among others.”

She tilts her head. “Doesn’t Jimin hate chocolate chip?”

“My point exactly.”

Chaeyoung giggles, hiding it behind a manicured hand, and you laugh right along with her. Together, you decide to grab some smoothies, and when you sit back down, the conversation turns to your trip up to the lake house. “Next time, we’ll have to do a girl’s trip,” Chaeyoung says, propping her chin in her palm. “Feels like it’s been ages since we’ve done one. You must’ve been exhausted with all those boys around.”

Unwillingly, your thoughts turn to Jungkook. “It wasn’t that bad,” you say slowly. “It was actually nice, being able to spend some time with them.”

“Who ended up going, anyway? Your brother, obviously. Taehyung? Yugyeom?”

You nod, raising a hand and ticking them off on your fingers. “Jimin, yeah. Taehyung, Yugyeom, Taemin, Minho. And Jungkook.”

If Chaeyoung notices the way you pause before saying the last name, she doesn’t comment on it. Her expression grows pensive, and you can practically see the gears turning in her head as she considers her next sentence. “You must be seeing a lot of him,” she says at last. “Jungkook, I mean.”

You take a massive sip of your smoothie and wonder if you’re imagining the lingering taste of him on your tongue. “Yeah, a bit,” you manage, your voice surprisingly steady. “He games with Jimin a lot.” After a pause, you decide to tell her the truth. “He dropped me off today, actually. Jimin’s working this summer, and I’ve been stuck at home, so he offered to take me downtown on his way to work.”

Chaeyoung hums thoughtfully. “He’s working at a restaurant or something, right?”

“Just a few streets away, yeah.”

Slowly, she nods. “We went out, you know.” Her voice is distant. “Just for a few weeks. He ended it after… well, after we slept together.”

There’s a pause, as Chaeyoung lets you digest this information, and a part of you wants to spill everything to her right then and there. Jisoo told me, you want to say, as acidic guilt begins to bubble up in your belly, every memory of the moments you’ve since shared with Jungkook rising unpleasantly in your throat. I’m sorry. I’m so,so sorry. You say it over and over again in your head, but the apology gets stuck in your throat when you try to voice it aloud.

Chaeyoung takes a sip of her smoothie and leans back in her chair with a sigh, oblivious to your internal struggle. “Maybe I should have seen it coming,” she says, gnawing on the end of the straw. “Everything changed our senior year, you know? It was like a switch had flipped—he started dating around, relationships that never lasted more than a week… I really should have known better when he asked me out. But I guess I thought I was different. We were already friends, after all. But whenever we were together, just the two of us, he was always… distant. Like he was somewhere else, mentally.”

Her words trail off, leaving only silence that you don’t know how to break. Chaeyoung sips at her smoothie again, before huffing out a laugh and waving a manicured hand in your direction. “God, sorry! I can’t believe I just started monologuing, ew. Jungkook this, Jungkook that—god. I’m not even mad at him anymore, you know? I just want him to figure his shit out.” Her eyes flit up to you briefly, before skittering back down to where a cookie crumb has landed on the tabletop. “It’s funny, though. Seeing him at Taehyung’s graduation party was probably the happiest I’ve seen him in a long time. He almost seemed like himself again.”

You can’t help it—the singular word bubbles up before you can stop it. “Really?”

Chaeyoung nods, her gaze flickering up to meet yours again. “Really. And honestly? I think it was because of you.”

Your heart does a series of backflips in your chest, thudding against the slats of your ribs. You try to respond, try to find the words, but they stick in your dry throat and your smoothie is practically gone at this point. Chaeyoung shrugs, unfazed by your silence, and you watch as she swirls her straw around in the remainder of her own drink. “I don’t know—maybe I’m imagining things. But it always seemed like he had a bit of a thing for you. Didn’t he used to follow you around the playground?”

The memory draws a startled laugh from your lips. “Sure, yeah. But that was in elementary school.”

Chaeyoung shrugs, smiling around her straw. “Still. We never really forget our first crush, do we?”

///

You head over to the restaurant after bidding Chaeyoung goodbye, her words weighing heavy on your mind and your heart. Through the tall glass windows, you can just barely make out Jungkook—looking sharp in a black collared shirt and matching slacks as he greets a table of diners. His smile is warm and his stance is confident, and you’re reminded of just how much he’s grown from that gangly kid you knew back in grade school when you catch the edge of flirtation lingering in his gaze.

The boy who used to follow you around the playground is gone. There’s no doubt in your mind about that. And so, you take a deep breath and walk into the restaurant, doing your best to smile at the host who greets you and asks whether you’d like to sit at a table or the bar.

“Hey, you made it!”

Jungkook strides over with a grin, taking the menu off the host’s hands and leading you over to an empty seat at the bar. “It’s full service, so you can order food here, too,” he explains. “You hungry? Thirsty?”

You glance down at the menu he places on the counter, scanning the lines of text. “Not really, but it smells really good so I might get something to go. And this carbonara sounds really good, actually.”

“It is,” Jungkook confirms. “I’ll go put the order in. You want some water or anything to drink?”

“Water’s good,” you tell him, and he nods before trotting off to do his job. You watch him disappear to the back of the restaurant before reappearing with a tray of glasses, and follow his meandering path through the tables as he disperses drinks and checks on the guests. Somehow, his shoulders manage to look even broader in his black shirt, and you can’t ignore the way they taper into a narrow waist that’s only emphasized by the belt threaded through the loops of his dark slacks.

He’s stopping at the table you first saw him at now, leaning in close when one of the women seated there asks him a question about something on the menu. His smile oozes easy charm, and you can’t help the feeling that flares in your chest when she reaches for the menu and purposely lets her fingertips graze his hand. Frowning, you tear your gaze away and focus on the wood grain of the bar counter. Your eyes zero in on a smattering of water droplets near your left arm, and you’re just about to run a fingertip through them when a voice sounds to your right.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

Surprised, you look up and find yourself face-to-face with a man who appears to be in his early thirties. Dark hair is brushed away from his forehead, a stray lock falling into his eyes, and you find yourself momentarily at a loss for words when your brain registers just how handsome he is.

“I—uh. I think Jungkook is going to grab me some water,” you finally manage, wanting nothing more than to melt into the ground when you hear the stammer in your voice.

“Ah, you know Jungkook?” The man laughs—a sound that is distinctly reminiscent of a squeaky windshield wiper. “He’s been pretty busy today, so why don’t I grab you that water instead?”

You nod, watching as he fills up a glass from the nozzle below the bar, accepting it when he hands it over. “Thanks.”

“Name’s Seokjin,” the man replies with an easy grin. “What’s yours?”

You return his smile and tell him your name. “Seokjin—Jungkook’s mentioned you a few times, I think. This is your place then, isn’t it?”

Seokjin beams. “Yep! Opened just a few months ago, after we finally sorted out the rat infestation and the asbestos problem in the rafters, and—” He pauses at the dumbfounded look on your face, and several beats pass before another peal of squeaky laughter escapes him. “I’m kidding. One-hundred percent. I promise the whole place is up to snuff.”

“So, I see you’ve met Seokjin.” Jungkook materializes at your side with a glass of water, which he takes a sip out of upon realizing that you already have a drink. “Is he making jokes about the health code again?”

“I would never,” Seokjin sniffs, and you laugh, finding yourself completely at ease for the first time since you entered the restaurant.

Jungkook rolls his eyes good-naturedly and turns his attention back to you. “Your carbonara should be out in a few,” he says, jabbing a thumb in the direction of the kitchen. “Are you sure you don’t want anything else?”

“Positive,” you assure him. “I’m full of chocolate chip cookies, anyway. Here, you want one? They’re still a little warm.”

Jungkook eyes the box you pull out of your bag hungrily. “Hell yes. I can smell them from here.” Laughing, you push the box toward him and watch as he pulls a cookie out and takes an enormous bite. “Thanks,” he says in between chews, his cheeks puffy. You can’t help but smile when he takes a sip of water to wash it all down, his eyes growing round.

Turning to Seokjin, you offer him a cookie as well, which he declines with a graceful wave. “I should be feeding you, not the other way around,” he remarks. “You got the carbonara, right? I’ll go see if it’s ready.”

With one last glance at the patrons sitting at the bar, Seokjin departs with a promise to be back in five minutes. Jungkook finishes off his cookie, and you’re considering offering him another when a familiar chirpy voice sounds from your left.

“Wow, it smells amazing in here! What do you think—should we sit at the bar?”

You whirl in the direction of the voice, your eyes immediately landing on a group of three girls standing near the entrance. Two of them you don’t recognize, but the third you’ve seen before. Mina, you’re pretty sure her name was, and you’d recognize her anywhere. The last time you’d seen her was at the restaurant on the night of Jimin’s and Jungkook’s graduation, and your face heats at the memory of everything else that transpired that night.

“Welcome!” Jungkook draws you out of your thoughts, and you turn to see that he’s wearing a bright, welcoming smile. “Were you looking to sit at the bar, or at a table? It looks like there are a few empty spots at the end of the bar, if you ladies would prefer that. Otherwise, I can take you to a table.”

Mina’s face lights up in recognition, and you’re forced to hide your scowl in your water glass. “Hey, we’ve met before, haven’t we?”

“You work at that place a few blocks down, right?” Jungkook jabs a thumb in the general direction of the street. “I’ve seen you around.”

She giggles and tucks a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “That’s right, yeah! I remember you now. Graduation, right? You were my best table of the night.”

Jungkook chuckles. “I bet you tell everyone that.”

“Not a chance,” Mina answers, looking him up and down before a coy smile curves her lips again. “I only say what I mean.”

“Honesty is the best policy,” Jungkook says agreeably. Then he turns to you, distractedly fiddling with his apron as he speaks. “Jin should probably be back with your food soon. Are you okay to sit here by yourself for a bit?”

You can only nod, still staring down into your water glass. “Yeah, sure. Go on, then.”

He smiles and gestures for Mina and the girls to follow after him, and you’re positive you don’t imagine the triumphant look that flashes across Mina’s face before she departs. Frowning, you grab a cookie from your box and break a piece off, grateful for the distraction. Seokjin drops off your carbonara a minute later, and you find yourself suddenly ravenous as you dig into the steaming bowl of spaghetti.

Jungkook returns to your side about five minutes later, raking a hand through his hair as he replaces his notebook back in his apron pocket. “Man, I’m beat,” he remarks. “Thank god Mina and her friends didn’t order anything complicated. My brain would’ve exploded.”

“Thank god for that,” you echo dully. Unwillingly, your gaze drifts over to where Mina is now sitting, chatting happily with her friends. “It’s weird, isn’t it? Seeing Mina here, of all places. I mean, what is she even doing here?”

“I don’t know how to tell you this, but most people go out and have fun on their days off,” Jungkook responds dryly, a grin breaking across his face when you roll your eyes at him. “Or wait… could it be that you’re jealous?”

You scowl. “Don’t be stupid.”

Jungkook just laughs, tilting your chin up with two fingers so he can look you in the eye. “It’s okay,” he says, his thumb brushing softly along the corner of your lips. “You’re cute when you’re jealous, princess.”

You don’t know how to respond to that, and thankfully you don’t have to. Seokjin returns with a takeout container for you to put your leftovers in, shrugging off your gratitude when you offer it.

“I’m discounting your food, too,” he says, leaving zero room for argument. “Any friend of Jeon’s is a friend of mine.”

Jungkook’s shift ends half an hour later. He turns on his roadtrip playlist on the drive home, and you are more than happy to let the music wash over you, eliminating any need for conversation and drowning out your thoughts.

“See you later, princess,” he says once he’s pulled into your driveway, following your every move as you climb out of the passenger seat.

It sounds like a promise coming from his lips, and you can only nod. “See you.”

///

You’re in the middle of buttering a piece of toast for breakfast the next morning when there’s a knock on the front door. Perturbed, you walk over to answer it, wondering if perhaps Jimin has forgotten his keys again, but when you peer through the peephole it isn’t Jimin who stares back at you.

“Jungkook—” you begin, swinging open the door, but he cuts you off before you can finish, taking your face in his hands and pressing his mouth to yours.

“Hey,” he whispers once he’s had his fill, pulling back just enough to mumble the greeting against your lips. “They’re all gone for the day, right?”

“Yes,” you confirm, still reeling from the suddenness of his appearance and the subsequent kiss. “But how did you—?”

“Jimin told me,” Jungkook answers shortly, before pulling you close and kissing you again. This time, you let yourself get lost in the feeling of his mouth against yours, following his lead as he ushers you back upstairs and breaking the kiss only once in the process. He lays you down onto your bed, the mattress dipping under your combined weight, and you sigh when he moves down to nip at your neck.

“No marks, Jungkook,” you remind him breathily. “You can’t leave marks.”

A low whine escapes him. “Can’t you wear a scarf?”

“It’s the middle of summer!” you huff in amusement, smacking his arm when he whines again and stubbornly sucks at the soft spot where your neck meets your shoulder.

Jungkook’s breath is hot against your skin. His fingers find the elastic waistband of your sweatpants, tugging them off your hips and down your legs, and you kick them off as soon as they’ve reached your ankles. Hungrily, his gaze traverses the newly revealed skin, and you shiver when he gently trails his fingertips up your calves and all the way to the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh. “Jungkook,” you sigh. “I haven’t shaved in days.”

“Ask me if I care,” he replies hoarsely, leaning down to press the flat of his tongue against the growing damp spot seeping through the cotton of your underwear. It’s far from your sexiest pair—you’d categorize them as granny panties, in all honesty—but Jungkook doesn’t seem the least bit fazed as he hooks them aside and licks a broad stripe all the way up to your clit. “Want you,” he groans, and the vibrations from his voice send a volt of tingling electricity straight up your spine. “Want you in every way I can have you.”

You don’t respond. You don’t have to, because Jungkook is diving in with the enthusiasm of a man starved, tossing your underwear aside carelessly before banding his arms around your legs to hold you open. His face disappears between your thighs until only the top of his hair is visible, the dark strands mussed. Lips parting in a moan, your fingers find their way to his head, tangling at his roots, and Jungkook parts from your cunt briefly to groan his approval. Then he’s eating you out again—alternating between broad licks and teasing flicks to your clit before his tongue delves into your entrance, inhaling deeply as if he just can’t get enough.

The sun rises higher into the sky, beaming through your window and illuminating Jungkook’s head and shoulders in warm, hazy gold. You chant his name as you reach your high, spurred on by his teasing tongue and whispered words of encouragement, and the grin he wears when he straightens back up is near blinding. Slowly, he peels off his shirt and shucks off his jeans until he’s completely bare before you, the sun painting him in warm strokes of color. Deliberately, he crawls up your body, hiking up the hem of your shirt as he does. He plants kisses into your newly bared skin, and when he reaches your lips he settles there as if that’s where he’s meant to be.

Jungkook kisses you slowly. He kisses you deliberately—sensually—and you melt into his gentle touch, relishing in the feel of his bare body pressed so intimately against yours. You don’t miss the way his cock hardens against your thigh, but Jungkook seems to be in no hurry to do anything about it. Instead, he cups your cheeks and licks into your mouth, and you’re all too willing to part beneath him like a flower in bloom.

The rest of the afternoon passes like this—hot kisses and slow fucking, the two of you meshing until you’re no longer sure where you end and he begins. You keep an eye on the time, though, and by the time your parents and Jimin return home, you and Jungkook are showered and dry, sitting on the living room floor embroiled in a Mario Kart tournament.

“No fair! You played without me?” Jimin whines, plopping down between you and trying to wrest the controller away from Jungkook. “C’mon, let me have a turn. You’ve been at it all day!”

Jungkook’s gaze flickers up past Jimin’s shoulder to meet yours, his lips twitching in barely suppressed mirth. “Yeah. We sure were.”

///

“God, I’m going to be sore for the next month.”

“Don’t be such a drama queen,” your brother snorts, squeezing your cheek between his thumb and index finger like you’re a small child. His three o’clock dance class has just wrapped up, and people are slowly filtering out of the studio. A few of the younger women glance back toward where you’re standing with Jimin, and you have no doubt they’re vying for one last look at your brother in his tight-fitting joggers and loose tank that keeps drooping off one shoulder. Rolling your eyes, you suppress the urge to loudly bring up the time he walked into a sliding glass door and nearly chipped his tooth. Instead, you pinch his cheek back, and laugh when he pouts.

“Ow, hey! What happened to giving me all your love and support?”

“Please, Mom made me come to your class,” you retort, batting his invasive hand away. “I think she just wanted me out of the house.”

Jimin laughs. “Can’t blame her. You’re a goddamn freeloader.”

“Seriously? Because in that case, I’m dying to hear what that makes you.”

Thoroughly nonplussed, Jimin pinches your other cheek before dancing away on light feet. “I’m an angel. Now go away, so I can get ready for my next class!”

Rolling your eyes again, you heft your bag over your shoulder and turn on your heel. “Fine, fine. Good luck, and all that. See you at dinner.”

Jimin doesn’t respond, and when you peer over your shoulder at him, he’s already sprawled on the floor and reaching for his toes in the unmistakable first step of his warm-up routine. He waves when he sees you watching, and you stick your tongue out at him playfully before exiting the studio and heading for the door. You’ve borrowed your dad’s car for the day, and hum cheerily as you climb into the driver’s seat.

You spend the rest of the afternoon running errands—stopping by both the post office and the bank before heading for the grocery store to pick up some ingredients for dinner. By the time you get back home, Jimin has finished teaching at the studio as well, and you fix him with a stare as you plop two full bags of groceries in front of him on the kitchen counter.

“Care to help me carry the rest in?”

“Not really,” he replies, but he stands up and follows you outside to the car nonetheless.

Once all the groceries are inside and unpacked, you begin prepping for dinner. Jimin, to his credit, offers his help without you even having to ask, and with his assistance you finish cooking in record time. Your parents join you in the dining room, and together you enjoy the meal over the evening news.

You retire to your room after dinner, cracking open your laptop to go over the details of your internship for the umpteenth time. You’ve read the emails and the attached documents so many times you practically have them memorized, but the anxiety gnawing at your belly refuses to be quelled. You’re returning to Seoul in less than a week, and your empty suitcase sits in the corner of your childhood bedroom like a taunt. You wonder, briefly, if you should start packing.

“Nah, it can wait,” you decide, muttering the words to your nonexistent audience. Standing up, you stretch lazily before exiting your room and heading down the hall to the bathroom that you and Jimin share, muffling a yawn behind your hand.

You’ve just finished brushing your teeth when your phone vibrates against the bathroom counter, a notification lighting up your screen. Spitting into the sink and rinsing off your toothbrush, you towel off your face before picking up your phone, blinking owlishly at the text.

[11:08pm] Jungkook: can you come over?

By itself, it’s not an unusual request. At this late an hour, though, you can’t help the unease that rises up in your belly. And as if sensing your apprehension, your phone vibrates again.

[11:09pm] Jungkook: my parents are out

[11:09pm] Jungkook: please? i could use some company

There’s an edge of desperation in his last message—something you haven’t seen in him since you returned home. It reminds you a bit of the Jungkook you used to know—the scrawny, gangly one with a nose too big for his face and an all-encompassing fear of the opposite sex. Give me ten minutes, you tell him.

Okay, Jungkook writes back. See you soon.

The next few minutes are a blur. You slather on some moisturizer and consider changing out of your pajamas and putting on a bra, but dismiss the thought immediately. Jungkook has seen you in far less, and you’re staunchly opposed to putting a bra back on after a certain hour of the night. Besides, he’s sure to dispose of your clothes at some point, so there’s little point in changing. With that thought in mind, you tiptoe out into the hall, past your parents’ bedroom and Jimin’s closed door. You carefully edge around the creakiest floorboards and hop over the two steps in the staircase that always groan when subjected to additional weight. Gingerly, you edge open the front door, just enough to slip out into the night.

The trek across the yard doesn’t take long, and Jungkook swings the door open before you even get a chance to knock. “Hey,” he says, and you can’t help but smile at the familiar round glasses perched on his nose. He’s in his pajamas as well—a blue and white checkered set that’s about two sizes too big—and when he ushers you inside, you catch a whiff of his floral laundry detergent.

“Hey,” you say. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“Long day,” he sighs, raking a hand through his already tousled hair and mussing it further. “Come on in. You want anything to drink?”

You shake your head, stepping into the entryway and watching as he closes and locks the door again. Jungkook nods and shuffles to the kitchen, where he pours himself a glass of water from the faucet and downs half of it in one swig. His throat bobs as he swallows, his head tilted back to expose the long line of his neck, and you step a little closer as he turns to refill the glass.

“On second thought, maybe I’ll have some water too.”

“Mm. Okay.” Jungkook turns and fetches a second glass, filling it to the brim before handing it over. Then he takes your free hand and leads you upstairs, taking a left turn into his bedroom and nudging the door closed with his foot.

“So…” you begin slowly, putting your water down on the nightstand and reaching for the hem of your shirt. “We need to be quick. My mom’s a light sleeper, and I’m pretty sure I heard Jimin playing games in his room when I walked by.”

Jungkook chuckles and lays his hands over yours, stilling your attempt to take off your shirt. “When did you turn into such a horndog, Noona? Maybe I just want to hang out.”

You blink. “Did you just want to hang out?”

Jungkook plops onto his bed and grabs you by the waist, tugging you down and into his lap. “I mean, yeah—I thought that was obvious. Figured we could watch a movie or something.” Grabbing the tv remote, he switches on the television hanging on the opposite wall. “Any suggestions?”

You hesitate. You’ve been in Jungkook’s bedroom just once since you’ve come back, and the memory of the way he’d bent you over the desk in the corner sends a pulse of heat to your cheeks. Tearing your gaze away from the piece of wooden furniture, you instead focus on the television screen, watching as he navigates over to the Netflix menu.

“We can go old school too, if you want,” he remarks as he scrolls through the list of new arrivals. “I have a DVD player.”

That draws a laugh from your lips. “When was the last time you purchased a DVD? Last I checked, you only had Kung Fu Panda, Iron Man, and two copies of Titanic for some reason that you still won’t tell me.”

Jungkook laughs, his chest rumbling against your back. “Call it human error,” he says, looping his arms comfortably around your waist and propping his chin on your shoulder. “How do you feel about going super old school? I can get the VHS player out of the basement and pop in one of the Pokémon movies.”

“I’m sure we won’t have to resort to that,” you assure him, grinning. “Here, why don’t we just watch Iron Man? Three’s your favorite, right?”

“Three is everyone’s favorite,” he says, scrolling over to the appropriate menu and clicking play. “It’s the best one, hands-down.”

“Won’t argue with you there.”

The movie starts, and you shift off Jungkook’s lap to switch off the lights. Darkness overtakes the room as the screen lights up with the opening credits, and when you return to the bed, Jungkook has sprawled comfortably against the pillows lining the headboard. His eyes remain glued to the screen even as he reaches for you, and you hesitate for only a second before joining him, laying down beside him and letting his arm find its way around your shoulders. The scent of floral laundry detergent fills your nostrils, and you subtly nestle a bit closer, resting your head on his chest.

This isn’t the first time Jungkook has seen this movie. You know this for a fact, yet that doesn’t change how raptly he watches the screen, the action sequences reflected perfectly in his glasses. He’s practically vibrating with excitement by the time of the final showdown, mouthing along to the lines, and you hide your smile in the blue-and-white squares of his pajama shirt as the music swells.

It’s well past midnight by the time the credits roll. Jungkook seems perfectly content to lie on his bed with his arm around you, and when you make to get up, his grip slides down to your waist to hold you in place. “You gotta watch the credits all the way through,” he says, blinking at you with bleary eyes now that the adrenaline from the final showdown has worn off. “There’s a post-credits scene, remember?”

You shake your head, but let him pull you back down onto the mattress regardless. “I’m sure you already know what it is. Why don’t you just tell me?”

“What’s the fun in that?” he asks with a grin.

The end credits continue—an endless stream of names scrolling down the screen. Your eyes begin to droop, the words blurring together, and it’s only when the music stops and the final scene begins that you jolt awake. Jungkook is faring no better than you are, suppressing a yawn behind his hand as he watches the last bit of the film through half-lidded eyes. Then the screen goes dark, and silence descends over the room once more. You glance at the alarm clock on his nightstand and see that it’s nearly two in the morning. A look back at Jungkook reveals that both his eyes have fallen shut, and you slowly begin wriggling free from his embrace in order to head home.

You’ve barely moved an inch when Jungkook’s arm tightens around your waist. “Stay,” he mumbles sleepily, one eye cracking open.

You should say no. You should head home to the safety of your own bed. But there’s something about Jungkook—something soft and fond in his tired gaze and something vulnerable in the way he’s holding you so tightly against his pajama-clad body with his hair in complete disarray and his round glasses askew. Heaving a sigh, you reach up to take them off his face, placing them neatly on his nightstand.

“Okay,” you whisper. “I’ll stay.”

Jungkook smiles sleepily and shuts his eyes. “G’night, then, Noona.”

“Night, Jungkookie.”

Within seconds, his breathing evens out, and you know he’s off in dreamland. Twisting in his grasp, you tug your phone out of your pocket and set a quick alarm for six o’clock. Neither of your parents wake up until seven at the earliest, and Jimin would sleep until three in the afternoon if he could get away with it, so you’re certain that you’ll have plenty of time to sneak back into the house. Besides, Jungkook’s bed is comfortable, and his chest is practically a furnace against your back. You aren’t sure you could work up the energy to leave even if you tried.

So instead, you settle back into his embrace and let sleep whisk you away.

///

There are birds chirping outside the window when you open your eyes the next morning, blinking blearily against the sun shining through the curtains. The blanket is tangled around your legs and there’s an arm looped around your waist, and you sit bolt upright when realization dawns. Jungkook groans and mumbles something unintelligible, but you don’t pay him any mind as you twist out of his grasp, clutching for your phone on the nightstand.

7:03am.

Shit.

Throwing your legs over the side of the bed, you rise to your feet and shove your phone into the pocket of your pajama pants. Jungkook makes a sound that vaguely resembles your name, and you spare him a glance as you fumble for your shoes. He’s flat on his back, blinking hair out of his eyes as he fights to stay awake. “Hey,” he manages, his voice raspy.

“I gotta go,” you whisper urgently, successfully putting your shoes on the right feet and wrenching the door of his bedroom open. And then you turn and dash out, leaving a very sleepy, very disheveled Jungkook blinking after you.

Your house, when you carefully crack open the front door and poke your head inside, is quiet. Much to your relief, you don’t hear any of the telltale signs that your family is awake and downstairs yet—no drip of the coffee maker and no sizzle of bacon or eggs. From upstairs, however, you can distantly hear the sound of the shower, so you dart inside and toe off your shoes, padding into the kitchen to start the coffee maker. You check the alarm you’d set the night prior as you scoop coffee grounds into the filter, and curse under your breath when you realize you’d somehow managed to select six PM instead of AM.

You’re seated in the living room with a mug of fresh coffee when Jimin shuffles in with damp hair and a sleepy frown. “You’re up early,” you remark.

“I have a morning class to teach,” he replies, yawning widely as he grabs a fresh mug. “What’s your excuse?”

You shrug. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Fair enough.”

Suppressing another yawn, your brother turns his attention to the refrigerator, rooting around for the milk. And you return yours to the window, where you can see the side of the Jeon’s house, and Jungkook’s bedroom window on the second floor. There are no signs of life from within, and you wonder if he’d gone back to sleep after your departure. Considering how tired he’d looked last night, you wouldn’t be surprised if he had.

Chaeyoung’s voice echoes in your mind then, soft and wistful. It always seemed like he had a bit of a thing for you. Happiest I’ve seen him in a long time. And honestly? I think it was because of you. We never really forget our first crush, do we?

And then Jisoo’s words rise up in your brain, just a bit louder. He’s a heartbreaker. He never, ever stays until the morning.

So why, then, did you wake up in his arms today?

#jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook scenarios #bts scenarios #jeon jungkook #bts #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts fanfiction #brother's best friend au #lia writes

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albertasunrise · 3 years ago

Text

Just Another Conquest - Part 1

Masterlist

Warnings: You were sweet, innocent and completely infatuated with Javier Peña. After an incident at the Christmas party, you become the talk of the secretary's at the embassy and everything starts falling around you.

Pairings: Javier Peña x Reader, Reader x Original Male Character

Warnings: Angst, Kissing, Mentions of sex

Notes: There are some touchy subjects at the end of this chapter. If you’re easily triggered this might not be for you. Don’t wanna add too many tags as it’ll spoil it.

For two years you had worked at the embassy as a secretary. You kept your head down and your nose out of trouble and so no one noticed you.

Except Greg.

Greg was sweet. You’d been on a few dates and you were taking it steady. Too many times you had jumped in headfirst into the flames and gotten burned so this time you were going to take things slow, Glacial, but Greg didn’t seem to mind. Greg was sweet.

Someone who wasn't sweet.

Javier Peña.

He had bedded most of the single or unmarried secretaries in the embassy. Even some of the married ones. He flirted with everyone. Well everyone except you and even though that stung a little you were glad. He couldn’t tarnish you if he couldn’t see you.

You’d been infatuated with the man from day dot at the embassy. He was a smooth talker and painfully handsome but you knew you weren’t his type. You were plain, a little on the chubbier side and uninteresting. You'd seen some of the women he’d slept with. Your apartment was across from his and they were all beautiful. The polar opposite of you.

It was the day of the Christmas office party. An event you looked forward to as it gave you a chance to dress up a little. Greg had bought you a stunning dress for the event, something you’d spotted in the window of a shop one day and told him you liked it. He’d managed to find out your size and had snuck back to buy it for you and you had swooned. No one had done anything like that for you before.

The dress fit perfectly. Highlighted all the right parts of you and for once you actually felt pretty. You did some simple makeup, pinned your hair up in a loose bun and wore the only pair of heels you could walk in. Greg was there to collect you when you were done, his jaw dropping to the floor when you emerged from your apartment building and you chuckled at his reaction. You both then got a taxi to the embassy and he had been unable to keep his eyes off of you or his lips from yours. Maybe tonight was the night that you’d let him into your bed.

You arrived a short while later and made your way inside, people excitedly bussing around you as you made your way to where the party was being held. The hall in the embassy had been decorated in traditional American fashion. Tinsel, baubles and lights adorned the walls and a large, audacious, tree sat in the centre of the room with presents surrounding its base. You gazed around in awe of what you were seeing and Greg couldn’t stop watching at you.

Little did you know, neither could Javier Peña.

He had spotted you as soon as you’d entered. He had seen you around over the past few years but until now had never spared you a second glance. He watched you as you entered with Greg from accounts. He’d spoken to Greg a handful of times and he always seemed nice enough, if not a little dull. His attention was so stuck on you that he didn’t even hear Steve talking his ear off until his name was shouted in frustration. Pulling the agent from his fancy.

“Oh no, you leave that one alone.” Growled Steve when he noticed who Javier was staring at.

“What… why?”

“Because I know what you’re like and she’s sweet. She has worked hard to keep herself out of the limelight and you paying her any sort of attention will destroy that completely.” Stated Steve, downing that last of his drink as he watched you head to the bar with your companion “Besides she’s dating Greg anyway.”

“Greg’s dull.” Mumbled Javier and Steve barked out a laugh.

“Greg is nice and perfect for her.” Asserted the blonde agent “Leave her alone.” He warned and Javier simply rolled his eyes, waving his partner off as he stood.

‘Another.’ He asked as he lifted his empty glass and Steve nodded before turning his head to seek out his wife in the bustle of people beside him.

Javier watched you as he approached the bar, taking you in as he came to a stop a few stools over. The dress you wore fitted your form beautifully, highlighting your small waist and larger breasts. You had a perfect hourglass figure and he practically salivated at the sight, wanting nothing more than to worship every inch of you but you were forbidden fruit. Which made it all the harder to resist you.

You hadn’t noticed Javier watching you but Greg had and he felt resentment start to simmer beneath the surface of his skin. If Agent Peña had set his sights on you then he had no chance. No one could resist that man's charms. He was relieved however to see that you remained blissfully unaware of the man’s attentions so he did his best to keep yours on him.

“They’ve done a wonderful job with the decorations huh?” He spoke as he wrapped his arm around your waist and you nodded eagerly in reply “You’re the most beautiful thing here though.”

“Oh shush Greg.” You chuckled, you’d never been very good at taking a compliment.

“No seriously.” He said as he gazed longingly at you “These last few months have been… Well they’ve been wonderful and I know you want to take things slow and that’s fine. Just know that when you are ready, I will make sure to show you just how beautiful I think you are.”

You swooned at his statement but Javier scoffed and then as the narrative repeated in his mind he became intrigued. The two of you hadn’t slept together? How serious can you really be if you’ve never fucked? So he decided you were fair game. God help him, he was going to taste those lips before the night was done.

…

“Would you like another?” Javi asked you as he motioned to your empty glass.

You jumped at the sudden question, turning your head to see Javier Peña staring back at you. A mixture of thoughts and emotions rushed through you at once but the one that lingered was lust. The way the man opposite you was looking at you went straight to your core and you found you were losing yourself in his dark chocolate orbs.

“Oh uh… Yes please.” You fumbled, the shock of your current situation lingering.

“You look lovely.” He said sweetly as he motioned at the barman to refresh yours and his drinks “A little different to your usual get up.”

“How would you know what I usually wear?” You questioned, a little taken aback by his statement.

“I’ve seen you around.” He stated, shrugging his shoulders.

“Right.” You sniggered, taking a sip from your new drink “Thanks for the drink, Agent Peña.” You finished as you turned to leave only to be stopped by his hand grasping your arm.

“Call me Javi.’ He said softly as he smiled at you.

“Well, thank you again Javi but I must be getting back to my date.” Giving him a last nod you sauntered away, unable to miss the scowl plastered across Greg’s face.

“What did he want?” He asked as you came up beside him.

“He got me a drink.” You replied nonchalantly “That was all.”

“That isn’t all he wants from you.” He growled and your head shot back in shock at his change of tone.

“Greg, I am in no danger of attracting Javier Peña.” You snort, rolling your eyes at him.

“Have you seen how you look?” He snapped and you found yourself growing irritated.

“I have and I am not his type.” You spit “He’s only interested in slim, tall, perfect skinned beauties and I am none of those things Greg. You have nothing to worry about.”

Little did you know, he had plenty to worry about. As the evening went on the music started to die down and people began to say their goodnights, thinning the crowd down to the younger staff members of the embassy. Greg had remained possessive of you, noting how Javier would watch you as you danced with your friends or talked with other people from your department. He’d picked his prey and you were it. Greg, helpless to stop it.

“Would you like to dance Hermosa?” Came a deep voice from behind you and you shivered at the effect it had on you.

Turning you see Javier smiling down at you, his suit jacket long since discarded and tie also. He’d unfastened the top three buttons of his shirt and you couldn't help but lick your lips at the sight of his golden skin beneath. Then suddenly your brain caught up with the rest of you and you shook your head as you looked back up at the man that was towering over you.

“I shouldn’t.” You replied, shaking your head as you looked around nervously “I should get back to Greg.”

“Greg is stuck in a deep conversation with a bunch of other accountants.” He countered, taking one of your hands in his “Just one dance. Will be perfectly innocent I promise.”

You tried to find another reason to say no, anything, but you were coming up blank and so you were unable to resist when he pulled you gently towards the dance floor. The song was slow, soft and you glanced around at the other couples close to each other, slowly swaying to the music.

“Relax.” The agent whispered against the shell of your ear and you shivered,

“Why are you doing this Javi?” You questioned, looking up into his eyes.

“Doing what?” He asked with a mildly bemused expression on his face.

“This. Dancing with me, paying me any form of attention.” You elaborated and his brow furrowed “We both know I’m not your type so this isn’t some ploy to get me to sleep with you, or at least I hope it's not. You’ve never spoken to me before tonight so why? What’s this all about?”

“How do you know what my type is?” He questioned, dark eyes watching you closely.

“Because I live across the hall from you and so have seen many of your conquests leave. All thin and beautiful which I am not.” You chuckled to yourself, glancing at Steve who watched the two of you.

“Well firstly, I think you are beautiful.” He stated and you rolled your eyes “Really, you don’t believe me?”

“I believe you’re a smooth talker that’s good at getting women to fall in love with him.” He snorted at the, glancing at Steve a moment before returning his attention to you “I know I’m not beautiful.” You shrug “I came to terms with that a long time ago but I don’t like to be teased or played with. So if this is some sort of game or bet. Please don’t involve me.” You pleaded and Javier felt his heart ache a little that you’d think such a thing.

“This is no game Hermosa.” He said softly “I like you and I wanted to dance with you.” He continued, bringing one hand up to cup your cheek “That's all that is going on here.”

“You like me?” You questioned, unable to help the squeak in your voice.

He nodded as he smiled at you and then time seemed to stand still. Your eyes flitted to his lips as you gazed at each other, the world around you falling away as Javier Peña cupped your face and kissed you softly. You didn't react for a moment, shocked that this is even happening and then you responded, kissing him back as your hands gripped his wrists and when he pulled away, all eyes were on you.

“Can I take you home Hermosa?” He asked quietly as he gazed at you, smiling when you nodded in reply and then he was leading you out. Greg and the party were all forgotten.

…

“I hope you don’t expect me to sleep with you this evening.” You chuckled, smiling shyly at the man driving you.

“A man can always hope.” He replied, glancing at you a moment before returning his attention to the road.

“Well, I’m not that easy.” You stated, sticking your tongue out at him playfully which elicited a throating laugh from the agent "I like to be wooed first."

You loved his laugh. It brought you all new waves of pleasure to hear it but as your building seeped into view, along with a familiar-looking truck parked out front, the realisation hit you like a freight train.

“Oh my god.” You sobbed as you hopped out of his truck, clutching your middle as you cried.

“Hermosa what’s wrong?” Asked Javier, his tone panicked as he sprinted to your side.

“Greg.” You choked and he noticed you staring at the vehicle parked in front of his “I kissed you, and I left him there. What… Why would I do that?”

Javier pulls you into his arms, holding you as you cried over the relationship you know you had destroyed. He pulled you with him, taking you inside and into his apartment where he sat you down on his couch and poured you a drink.

“Thank you.” You hiccuped as you took the drink from him, staring at the glass as he sat beside you “I liked Greg.” You started, eyes not wavering from your glass “He was sweet. Liked me for me and I’d never had that before. All my previous boyfriends wanted one thing and I got burned so much I gave up on the idea that someone could want more with me.”

“You have to go through some hurt to find the right man.” Javier replied, wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you close “You’ll find him I’m sure. You deserve happiness.”

You sat there and talked for a little longer. Until your eyes were so heavy you could no longer keep them open and when Javier noticed you dosing off, he scooped you into his arms and carried you to his bed. He didn’t try anything. Just simply held you and it was the best sleep he’d had in years.

You had no idea you’d be the talk of the office when you returned from the holidays. Greg hadn’t spoken to you since that night and neither had Javi. You’d snuck out the next morning before he’d woken up, mortified that you’d fall asleep at his. You knew you hadn't had sex with him but you’d still slept with him and that brought on all kinds of different emotions. Did he like you the way you like him?

“So how was it?” Asked Kirsten as sat down at your desk, her eyebrows lifting.

“How was what?” You asked, your confusion evident in your features.

“Your hot night with agent Peña.” She elaborated and you almost choked on your coffee “You did fuck him right?”

“No, I didn’t.” You expelled, already feeling sick to the stomach at the realisation you were the talk of the office.

“Oh come on.” She rolled her eyes at your denial “No one goes home with Javier Peña without him having his way with them. You’re so lucky.” She sighed “Although poor Greg left with his tail between his legs. No one blames you for going to the better dish though… Javi is quite the meal.”

You abruptly grabbed your bag and stood from your chair, not stopping to pick it up as it clattered on the stone floor. All you could think about was getting out of there, and fast. You couldn’t miss the sniggering as you swiftly left the office, only to be stopped by two hands grabbing your shoulders.

“Woah what's up?” Asked Greg as he pulled you to the side.

“I uh… everyone's laughing at me.” You sobbed, eyes skirting around and catching peoples stares.

“What did you expect when you went home with Agent Peña.” He scoffed and you looked up at him with a broken expression “All those months clearly meant nothing to you as you dropped your panties for him the moment he called.”

“What? No… I didn’t sleep with him.” You assured, head shaking tears loose from your eyes “I swear to you I didn’t. He kissed me and that’s it.”

“Didn’t see you pushing him away.” He growled and your stomach sank “Despite what you pulled, I still care about you so I will have a word with the others. Just try to keep your head down from now on yeah?”

You nodded, sniffing as you watched him walk away but as you looked around you could see that everyone was still looking at you, talking about you.

You needed to leave.

Your sprinted to the elevators, uncaring of anyone else's attention and pressed the button vigorously, willing it to arrive. You didn’t even look when it opened, just shuffled inside and pressed the button for the parking level. You’d explain later why you’d left.

“Everything okay?” Came a soft Southern voice and you turned your head to see Steve beside you “Rough day?”

“Putting it lightly.” You replied, letting out a watery chuckle as you threw your head into your hands.

“I told Javi to leave you alone. Fucking prick.”

“No this is all my fault.” You sobbed as you looked up at him “Javi was sweet. I should really talk to him but today isn’t the day. Right now I need to go home and wallow.”

“Well, you can do that together if you like.” He chuckled and you looked at him in confusion “He ended up taking today off.

“Right.” You replied as you pulled your bag tighter over your shoulder as you exited the lift and headed towards your car.

Maybe you should speak to him today.

…

You’d more or less talked yourself out of it by the time you'd made it back to your apartment building. You pulled into your allotted parking spot, sprinted up the stairs and made it to your front door, only to be stopped by a familiar voice.

“What are you doing back?” He asked and you turned to face him, noting how his brows were drawn together in concern.

“I uh… Well, let's just say I’m the talk of the office.” You replied plainly as you pulled out your key, desperate to escape this inevitable conversation.

“Why?” He asked and you looked at him again in amazement.

Did this guy seriously have no clue?

“Well, let's see Javi. I turned up at this year's Christmas party with Greg, the guy I was seeing and then left with you after you kissed me in front of all of our colleagues. Why do you think that I’m the subject for office gossip?” You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest as you awaited his response.

“We didn’t sleep together thought?”

“They don’t know that” You replied, rolling your eyes at him “So that’s what everyone assumed happened. That I waited months to take that step with Greg but one kiss from you and I give you what you want.”

“I’m sorry Hermosa.” He replied, his eyes taking on a sad puppy dog quality that immediately had your anger melting away.

“Why aren’t you at work today Javi?” You questioned as your body language relaxed and you turned to put your key in the door.

“One of my informants died.” He announced and you immediately turned to look at him “She uh… Well, she was ratted in by one of her colleagues. We found her last night mutilated and raped.”

“Oh Javi, I’m… I’m so sorry.” You replied as you gave him a sympathetic look, your heart breaking from the pain that was so evident on his face “Did you want to come in?” You asked innocently and he nodded, taking the hand you offered and following you inside.

Little did you know that this time, you really would give Javi what he wanted. You talked, you consoled each other, you kissed and then finally when the kissing became heated and passionate you fucked him, allowing your own troubles to be dissolved by pleasure. You allowed yourself to lose yourself in him and he buried himself in you to escape himself but when all was done and you lay their sated in his arms you started to wonder.

Maybe he did like you.

It doesn’t take long for word to spread around the office that you had fucked Javier Peña now. Someone else who lived in the building overhearing your activities and telling the entire office the following day so when you’d turned up the following feeling more relaxed, it was quickly ripped away from you.

“So decided to skive off for a fantastic fuck with Javi Peña eh?” Kirsten asked as she winked at you, the colour completely draining from your face “You lying slut though. I knew you were shagging him.”

“I uh…”

“Oh no use in denying it, you were heard. You’re apparently pretty vocal in the sack.” She sniggered as the other girls in the office started to chuckle along with her “Oh Javi.” She mocked “Oh Javi yes… just there-“

You left before she could finish her berating, tears streaming down your cheeks as you made your way through the halls to the bathrooms in the hope you could cry alone in there but sure enough, you were not to be so lucky. Greg grabbed you as you tried to scurry past but there was no sympathy in those blue orbs anymore, nothing but anger.

“You fucking slut.” He growled, eyes burning you “I courted you for months. Treated you right and the first moment you get you fuck man whore Peña?” He spat and you flinched at his outburst “You just used me. Did you even fucking like me?”

“Yes, Greg.” You sobbed, fat tears flowing freely now “I did like you... I do even. I like you a lot, I swear I didn’t use you.”

“But you couldn’t resist opening your legs for Javier Peña.” He growled, snarling at you as he watched your face crumble “You know he doesn’t commit so good luck regaining any credibility you had here.” He finished, leaving you sobbing in his wake.

You quickly sprinted through the halls, people's mocking laughter filling your ears but you just pushed forward. You looked up a moment and that's when you caught eyes with him, the man from which all this trouble had stemmed from and you stopped, giving him a hopeful look as he grabbed your arm and pulled you to one side.

“What's the matter?”

“You seriously the only person in the embassy not to hear the latest gossip?” You asked, noticing the genuine confusion that spread across his face.

“We were heard Javi.” You explained, wiping your cheeks with your sleeves “Someone heard us and has told everyone.” You sobbed, face leaning into his hand as he cupped your cheek “But you can set everyone straight, tell them that this is different? I mean, it was different right?” You asked, eyes pleading for him to soothe your worries.

“Hermosa…” He trailed off as he dropped his hand and shook his head, your stomach dropping “Hermosa I-.”

“You said you like me.” You choked, eyes growing wide as you shook your head in disbelief “That I’m beautiful.”

“I do and you are.” He assured you “But I’m not a commitment guy.” He paused and you felt sick “What we did was just two friends comforting each other. Nothing more.”

You can’t believe it. How had you gone and done this again? You’d given yourself to someone body and soul only to be stomped on again. You were a fool and you knew it. There was never going to be a chance of Javier Peña want more than to bury himself in you. You were plain. Simple.

Ordinary.

You left without another word. Darting into the nearest bathroom where you emptied the contents of your stomach before crying yourself dry. When you did finally emerge you were called into your manager's office and were instantly told to take some time. You had some leave to take so they advised you to take it. Let the scandal die down a little. You couldn’t be the talk of the office forever.

So you do. You take the two months you accrued and you leave, numb the entire drive back to your apartment. You thought about going home, actually taking a vacation but then you’ve never been one for adventure. You don’t have anyone back home. No family or friends to speak of so you decide to spend it here. At home. Wallowing in your own self-pity.

2 months later…

Javier had noticed your absence and he’d also noticed that you never left your apartment. At least you never left it when he was around to see it. He knew you were due back today, one of the other secretaries informing him that your leave had ended so why weren’t you here? It wasn’t like you to be late. You were always in before most of the other office admins were, sipping your coffee as you went through your daily schedule.

No one else seemed to be worried about your absence. A few assuming you’d forgotten that you were due to come back but they were a little surprised when Agent Peña had started asking around for you. Everyone knew that things between you and him had crashed and burned, your very public refusal being the next hot topic for the weeks that followed. So when he came up short with your colleagues he went to your boss, his worry growing by the minute.

“I’m not sure why it matters to you where she is.” Stated your boss as they continued to skim through the paperwork in front of them “It’s because of you that she ended up taking leave.”

“I understand that but…”He paused a moment, trying to carefully plan what he needed to say “She lives opposite me. I’ve not seen her leave in two months or even heard a peep from her apartment. I know that her suffering is my doing but I do care about her well being.”

“Well, you should have thought about her well being before you dragged her name through the dirt.”

“Do you know where she is?” He growled, growing more and more impatient by the second.

“Yes, I do.” They replied plainly.

“So?”

“She’s in the hospital.” Javier’s eyes shot open, stomach dropping as he stared at the older woman across from him.

“What… what happened?” He asked although he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“I can’t tell you that.” She stated and he let out a frustrated sigh

“Is she at least going to be okay?”

“She’s in a bad way.” She paused as she finally placed the documents in her hands down “If you want to see her I can’t stop you. Just know… it is very likely that she won’t want to see you.”

She told the agent where you were and watched as he left, knowing that deep down he had a right to know what had happened to put you there.

…

A few flashes of his badge and he was soon led to your room, stopping the doctor as he left your room and demanding he be told what was wrong. He could see that you were sleeping inside and he felt himself ease a little seeing that you weren’t bloody and beaten. So what was wrong?

“She was poisoned.” The doctor explained in Spanish and Javier felt his anxiety shoot through the roof again.

“Poisoned?” He asked “How? By who?”

“By herself.” The doctor stated and Javier’s stomach dropped.

Had he really hurt you that badly?

“She tried to terminate her pregnancy using an old home remedy.” The doctor elaborated and Javier jumped at that.

“Pregnancy?”

“Yes.” The doctor nodded “She is around 2 months pregnant.”

Javier knew instantly it was his and a mixture of emotions coursed through him. Why had you not come to him? Why did you feel like this was the right thing to do? If there was a baby involved he would do what was right. You had to know that right?

“She is sedated.” The doctor continued “The baby survived. The remedy did not work but it did nearly kill her. She was hysterical when she arrived. Begging us to save it.” He paused, glancing at you before returning his attention to Javier “I don’t think she really wanted to get rid of it. She was just desperate and scared. She should be okay though. We will continue to monitor her and the baby. ”

Javier nodded before stepping aside so the Doctor could leave. His mind was racing as he stepped inside of your hospital room and taking a seat at your side. He would wait. Wait until you woke up and he would talk to you. He needed to understand why you did this. Why you felt you had no other option.

…

You were shocked to find Peña dosing in the chair beside your bed when you woke up. How did he even know you were here? Your head was pounding and your mouth dry so you turned your head to find the bottle of water a nurse had brought you earlier, only to knock it when you went to grab it. The agent woke instantly and you groaned in frustration. You didn’t need his lecture right now.

“Hey.” He said softly as he grabbed the bottle and opened it before bringing it to your lips “How are you feeling?”

You shrugged as you sipped the water, relishing how it soothed your sore throat and dry tongue. You nodded when you’d had your fill and watched as he screwed the lid back on and placed it back on the table.

“What are you doing her Javier?” You rasped and he flinched at your inquiry.

“I was worried about you.” He stated, sad eyes locking with yours “The doctor said you and the baby are going to be okay.” He said with a smile and your eyes started to water.

“So you know?”

“Yes.” He replied plainly “He also told me you tried to get rid of it.” He paused, stroking away a tear that escaped from your eye “Why?”

“Because I knew you wouldn’t want it.” You replied, lip trembling as you spoke “And I didn't want to raise it on my own.” You paused, watching him process your words before you go for the jugular “Besides, I was just another one of your conquests. Can't go tarnishing your record and I’ve destroyed my reputation enough. Having your baby will just destroy whatever integrity I have left.”

“So what are you going to do?” He asks, stomach twisting.

“I’m going to leave Javier.” You said plainly “I will leave and I will raise this baby on my own. No one will ever need to know you have a bastard child with one of your many whores. I want nothing from you so you can go now.”

“Hermosa I-“

“Leave.” You growled, angry tears staining your cheeks “I’m giving you the out you want. Take it.”

Part 2

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