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thesquidgame · 12 days ago

Text

Promises

Kang Dae-ho x reader

Summary: You and Dae-ho's relationship, from the beginning, to one night in a subway station.

Warning: female reader who can get pregnant, abusive parents, existential crisis, misogyny and toxic masculinity (not from Dae-ho), PTSD, shootings, injury, infertility, a lot of medical talk, surgery, male infertility, guilt and hopelessness, medical emergency with a pregnant woman, premature baby, lmk if I missed anything

The character's references to their infertility is their emotions and feelings towards the situation as a trauma response. A person struggling with infertility is not broken or a failure in any way whatsoever.

15k

It was the middle of the night, when you met Dae-ho. You were working at your job in a convenience store, and were staring at your phone. You had been scrolling for what felt like hours when you heard someone approach the cash register. You put your phone down, preparing for a quick transaction. Only to be surprised that when you looked up, you saw the most attractive man you had ever seen in your entire life.

He was wearing a full military uniform, and his hat was off revealing a shaved head.

“Um, hi.” You said, immediately internally face-palming because of your stupid first line.

“Hi!” The man said, “just this please!” He was smiling, even though it was after midnight on a Monday.

You panned down to see a candy bar and a sugary drink guaranteed to rot anyone’s teeth. Shockingly, you had only ever sold it to children before.

“Um, yeah of course.” Jeez, was um the only word in your vocabulary?

You quickly scanned the items, and the smiling military man grabbed them both, “thanks, see you later!”

Puzzled, you stared at him as he walked away, confused as to what had just happened with that smiling sculpted-by-the-gods man.

The man came in every night after that, always around midnight, and always with a smile on his face. After the first day, you noticed that he would go outside, eat whatever he had bought in front of the door, and then leave. You understood, sometimes after your shift ended you would stand in front of the convenience store for a while, just sighing. It was nice to have a moment of peace somewhere besides work or home.

After a week you got the courage to go outside and talk to him, “hi, excuse me, you’re welcome to come inside.” He turned, looking at you as he sipped his drink through a straw, “I just mean… I have another chair, you could. Um.” You paused, mortified. “I’m sorry, ignore me.” You hesitated for another second before saying, “Sir?” You were unsure of the title you should greet him with

He laughed, in a way that clearly felt like he was not admonishing you. “Sorry, that would be great.” He reached out his hand towards you, “and the only people who call me sir are the new recruits, you can call me Dae-ho.” You shook his hand.

Dae-ho came and sat on a chair that was halfway behind the cashier, and halfway in the open. “I’m sorry to be so awkward, I just don’t talk to too many people on the night shift. It’s the middle of winter so I thought you would be more comfortable inside.” He looked at you, entirely seriously, “I don’t think you’re awkward at all.”

You smiled, looking away from him. If he looked in your eyes he would definitely see how flustered you were. “Thank you.”

You were terrible at flirting. Terrible, awful. Every attempt you had made with previous guys and crashed and burned. The only people you actually dated were alpha male types who took control of every situation. They said the first line, your conversations followed their lead, and when you approached a topic they didn’t understand, or didn’t want to talk about, that would no longer be the topic you were talking about.

Dae-ho wasn’t like that. At all.

Whenever you approached a new topic he would prop his elbow up on the table and rest his head on his hand, staring at you intently. No matter how long it would take you to get the idea across, or how long you rambled on about one topic, he would listen. He would never interrupt, only ask questions when you were done.

On one especially cold night, the power went out. The streets had become icy, and Dae-ho refused to let you make your way home in the dark by yourself. And you refused to let him walk you home, only to turn around right after and walk by himself in the dangerous conditions to the subway station.

So, you both were sitting in the back room of the tiny little convenience store, as far from the front as possible to stay warm until the power came back on. Your phone said it would be in an hour at most, and you crossed your fingers that it would because it was getting colder by the minute.

There was something about a small room, with no windows, that made deep conversations so much easier. Dae-ho was sitting cross-legged in front of you, talking about his mother and sisters, and how close he was with all of them even into adulthood. It made perfect sense, every time you learned something about him it clicked perfectly into place like a puzzle piece.

“All of my sisters have kids already. My oldest sister has three already.” He said, eating a bag of chips that you snagged from inventory.

“Three, well that’s not so bad. One of my friends in high school had eight siblings.” You laughed, and Dae-ho grimaced.

“Nine kids, and I thought five was way too many.” He said, chuckling.

“By the way Dae-ho, I just realized I never asked how old you are.” You felt embarrassed. That was one of the first questions you were supposed to ask, but somehow you had skipped that step. Dae-ho had insisted you talk informally even though he was in the military, and you begrudgingly did so. It would be amusing if he was younger than you after all.

Dae-ho took a swig of his drink, “I’m 24.” You gasped, “really? I’m 25, that makes me your elder.” You laughed, and Dae-ho blushed.

“Yeah, I guess that does.” He said, smiling as he ate another chip.

“So how old’s your sister? How crazy three kids really is depends on your age.” You laughed.

“She’s 28.” Dae-ho said, looking down.

“Wait, that means that all of you are less than a year apart! Your poor mother.” You laughed, only stopping when you noticed Dae-ho frowning. “Oh, I’m sorry. I- I didn’t mean to-” “No, no it’s fine.” He said, “my dad really wanted a boy. So my mom, just- just couldn’t stop until I was born.” He looked pained, and your heart broke for both him and his mother.

“Dae-ho, I’m sorry, that must’ve been really difficult for your mother.” You reached out for his hand. It twitched, but he kept it still. Everything in Dae-ho’s nature told him to pull away, but all he wanted was to be comforted by you as tears threatened to spill out of his eyes.

He sniffled, “yeah, it really was. She had health issues for years after I was born.” You squeezed his hand, “I’m sorry, we barely know each other, I shouldn’t be crying about all my problems to you.”

“Dae-ho, it’s alright. I’m not going to judge you. If it would make you feel better, I could talk about my problems too.” You said, trying to comfort him. “You- you really don’t have to do that.” He said, wiping his eyes with the back of his jacket. He had offered to let you wear it too, over your already thick winter coat, but you refused to take away his only source of warmth.

There was a pause between the two of you, where you decided if you wanted to share or not. Dae-ho didn’t want to force you to talk, so he opened his mouth, ready to fill the silence.

“Sometimes I wonder if I’m a failure.” You whispered. “I moved to Seoul with stars in my eyes or whatever they say, and so far all I’ve accomplished is a shitty dead end job. There aren’t any entry level positions for my degree open anywhere, and I just feel like my life is a boring, endless cycle.” Tears dropped from your eyes onto your jeans, “I’m really scared. What if it stays this way forever. Just being the under-achiever and the pushover who isn’t capable of making anything happen. Not interesting enough to have anyone listen to what I say.” Dae-ho squeezed your hand, interrupting you for the first time, “hey, I’m here. I’m listening. I think you’re interesting enough.” You looked up at him, and he smiled. “Who you are is enough, and you aren’t an under-achiever, or a pushover. You’re not failing, the world’s just waiting for the right time to let you live your destiny.” You smiled back at him and laughed. “Hey Dae-ho?” “Yeah?” “Can I ask you something crazy?” He smiled, and in that moment you could’ve sworn he would’ve said yes to anything. “Sure.” “Can I kiss you?”

He didn’t answer. Instead he leaned forward and kissed you. It wasn’t like all the kisses you’d seen in movies. Your tongues didn’t ‘battle for dominance,’ and you didn’t feel the burn of lust in your stomach. It felt- sweet. It felt safe. His lips were soft, and his hand was gently holding your cheek.

After a minute, he leaned back, and he blushed, “that was nice.”

You giggled as he wiped a tear off your cheek with his thumb, “yes, that was.” Right after your kiss the power came back on, “I guess it’s time to go home.”

Dae-ho picked up his trash and stood up, groaning loudly as he stretched. “Yeah, I guess it is.” You grabbed all of your things as slowly as you could, not wanting to leave Dae-ho’s side. “Well, I guess this is goodbye.” Dae-ho said as you stood outside the store, locking it with your key. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.” Dae-ho turned around, looking like a sad puppy. You watched him slowly walk a couple of feet. He undoubtedly had no idea what he was doing, but he still looked miserably pitiful.

“Dae-ho?”

“Yes?” He turned around in a heartbeat, his big eyes pleading to you.

You sighed, “do you want to come and stay in my apartment? Since it’s so cold and you would have to wait for the subway?”

“Yes!” Dae-ho’s whole face lit up, and he jogged towards you with a huge smile on his face. You giggled, he was such a goofball.

You walked to your apartment slowly, due to the frigid cold. You almost slipped on ice several times. While Dae-ho was wearing heavy duty-combat boots that could grip the snow much better than your sneakers did, you still felt reassured in your decision to not let him walk home by himself. He caught you several times, and only almost slipped once, when he let out a very dramatic “ahhh,” when his left foot slipped for a half a second.

Giggling further, you felt bad when he looked at you with those big puppy eyes, but you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing. “It’s not funny.”

“It’s a little bit funny.” You giggled.

He glanced away, his cheeks growing redder, “okay, it’s a little bit funny.” Your apartment was a lot warmer than outside. The hallways and stairwells weren’t heated, but at least there wasn’t the constant threat of ice and the temperature wasn’t in single digits.

You weren’t sure what to expect when you got inside your apartment. Dae-ho was a gentleman, but you weren’t sure how he would interpreta girl inviting him into her apartment in the middle of the night.

The second you unlocked your door, you both took off your shoes. “Ugh, that smells awful.”

Dae-ho looked offended as he sat off the floor unlacing his other shoe. “It does not! So rude.” He apprehensively reached over to grab his boot, only to recoil in shock when he sniffed it, “Oh god. That is… That is just awful.”

You laughed heartily, your anxiety at least partially having gone away after you witnessed Dae-ho’s adorable reaction to his own shoes. He laughed too.

Your apartment was tiny. A studio room with the bedroom and living room areas divided only by a curtain. The kitchen only consisted of a single stove top and a mini-fridge. Yet, Dae-ho didn’t look uncomfortable whatsoever. In fact, he made himself at home. Right after he took off his shoes he walked over to your couch and sat down. “This is a really comfortable couch!”

For some reason, that made your giggles turn into something a bit more serious. “Thank you.” It was a really nice couch, and your favorite thing in your apartment. When a neighbor from the first floor moved out, she asked if anyone wanted a couch that “wouldn’t fit with the aesthetic of her new house,” and you gladly took her up on her offer. You had tugged it up the stairs and into your apartment. It had taken hours, and nearly a couple of broken bones. But it was a very nice couch. It was softer than any couch you had ever sat on, and when you looked it up you saw that it cost 1500 dollars. A number you found completely shocking to spend on a couch. “It is a really nice couch.”

Dae-ho didn’t seem to notice you getting emotional, “woah, and it reclines too. This is so fancy. I feel like a king!” He pushed the buttons over and over again, reclining and un-reclining several times.

He was entirely oblivious to your emotions, and you were glad. No one had ever commented on your fancy sofa. Not the few guys you had dated, not your friends, no one. But here he was, an incredibly attractive man, sitting on the couch that only he had noticed, giggling about a recline feature. His smile was infectious, and you didn’t want to bring him down. In fact, his smile made you start smiling too.

“Can I get you anything?” You said, bending over to look in your tiny fridge to see what you could grab for him. The fridge came with the apartment, and you didn’t see a reason to get a larger one. Especially since you lived so close to a store that sold almost everything you. Plus, you had an employee discount.

You turned around to see Dae-ho staring at you, and he blushed when you made eye-contact. “Just water is fine.” He muttered. You were confused for a second, just a moment ago he was acting like he lived here and now he was being shy?

Oh. Oh. You had bent over and he was staring at your ass, giving him quite a fine view. “Do you like the view?” You said teasingly.

“What? What view? Um yes.” He said flustered. You looked back at him, stifling a laugh, “I mean. No, no of course not. I- I would never.”

“Oh, so you don’t like the view of the skyline.” You gestured towards the window that was slightly visible past the half-drawn curtain separating the room into two.

“Oh! I love that view. Yes, of course.” He sat in silence for a moment, before finally understanding, “you’re messing with me, aren’t you.”

You giggled, walking over to him and handing him a glass of water. “Bingo.” As you sat down next to him on the couch the room grew quiet. You moved closer to one another unconsciously, and Dae-ho stopped when he was a few inches away from your face. You could feel his breath on your lips “(Y/n), can I kiss you. Again.”

You nodded, and he closed the distance between you. This kiss was just as good as the first, and entirely different. It was passionate, and his tongue explored your mouth. He kissed you like you were the air he needed to survive. You had never been that good at kissing, never finding it natural or comfortable. But with him, kissing was like breathing.

You and Dae-ho made out on the couch like teenagers for at least an hour. You stopped to make jokes, and talk about various things. But even after all that, you were still nervous. Although you really liked Dae-ho, you didn’t want to sleep with him right now. You weren’t even dating, and that was a boundary you didn’t feel like crossing until far deeper in the relationship.

You trusted Dae-ho, and knew that if you said no he wouldn’t push it, but you didn’t want to make things awkward. What if he left? What if he wasn’t interested any more? A lot of guys you had dated had been turned off by you not wanting to sleep with them. You couldn’t explain why you wanted to wait until you had been together longer. You weren’t opposed to sex before marriage, and you didn’t have any special desire to be a virginal bride. But that trust took a long time to build, and you hadn’t been in a relationship with someone you liked enough to date for longer than a few months. That was why it just hadn’t happened yet. A guy who got pissed you wouldn’t sleep with them was not someone you wanted to have sex with, and certainly not someone you wanted to marry, or really date for any longer than 30 seconds after they said that.

While you were taking a water break from cuddling on the couch, Dae-ho finally asked the dreaded question. “Do you want to sleep with me?” He sounded a little bit nervous and bashful, but knowing him he meant it. Dae-ho had a dislike for lying, something he had told you that stemmed from the trauma of not realizing that Santa Claus wasn’t real well into his teens.

Your whole body froze up. Another thousand questions ran through your head. What if he gets embarrassed and leaves? Or what if you were a complete idiot and he was like all those other guys. “I’m sorry, I really don’t want to. It’s just I’ve been waiting until I’m in a long term relationship and I know we’re going to-” Dae-ho interrupts you, “Okay.”

Wait, what. “Okay?”

He shrugged, taking a sip of water, “Okay. I don’t mind. I think we have a very important conversation about our favorite types of soup to get back to anyways.” You were flabbergasted. For some reason you hadn’t thought that anyone actually wouldn’t care. But here he was, not trying to push you any further. Not only was he not pushing about sex, but he wasn’t pressuring you into talking about your reasoning.

“Ye- yes. Yes we do.”

You stayed up until the sun had almost risen, talking about if stew was only stew if it had meat in it, if Santa’s Sleigh could really fly, and other random things from your lives.

Dae-ho finally started falling asleep, even though he was doing his best to hide it. After his eyes closed for far longer than the length of a blink, you giggled and put a stop to it. “Dae-ho, I’m really tired. Is it alright if we go to bed.”

Dae-ho’s eyes lit up. He clearly didn’t want to admit that he needed to sleep, so you gladly took that burden off his shoulders. “Yeah, sure, if you’re tired.” He kissed you gently on the forehead, and leaned back on the recliner, “goodnight (y/n).”

“Goodnight Dae-ho.”

In 30 seconds he was asleep.

You were wrong. It didn’t take a long time to build a deep level of trust with someone. Dae-ho said I love you on your third date, and you did on your fifth. You were living together in four months, and he proposed in six. You decided to wait until you got married to sleep with him. You wanted to feel completely and utterly whole on your wedding day, and having two moments that you considered important life events in one of the most important days of your life felt so perfect.

Dae-ho had slept with a couple of girls before, but he didn’t mind waiting at all. In fact, when you told him the reason you wanted to wait, he smiled a big smile and kissed you, “that is the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said!”

Meeting his parents shortly after your engagement was the most difficult part of your relationship so far. His father was a quiet man. He sat cross legged on the low table you were sitting at, silently staring at you and Dae-ho while his mother brought out countless dishes one by one. You had met all of his sisters very early on in your relationship, so this was a dinner with just the four of you.

“So, I see you and Dae-ho are going to get married.” It was a statement of fact. You were quickly learning that Dae-ho’s father took everything seriously.

“Yes sir.” Dae-ho addressed his father. You knew they had a very strained relationship. Dae-ho always felt overwhelmed by his father’s militaristic personality and masculine persona, but never confronted him about it to try and avoid dragging his mother into whatever argument would ensue.

However, you weren’t expecting him to call his father sir. The same title he called all his superiors in the army.

“You will have the wedding in the church down the street.” Again, no question. Dae-ho fidgeted on the floor, a tell-tale sign he was uncomfortable. You squeezed his hand.

“We were actually looking at a few venues. There was one in a botanical garden that Dae-ho was especially…” Your sentence trailed off. Both men stared at you intensely. Dae-ho’s father like he was offended you were speaking, and Dae-ho with an increasingly uncomfortable look.

It was his turn to squeeze your hand. “The church is really nice. We can get married there.” He said quietly. He didn’t want to get married in the church. He wanted to get married in the botanical garden. But you could tell this was not an issue he wanted to approach with his father, so you let it be.

You plastered on a fake smile, “church it is!”

His mother came into the living room, with a smile the exact same as Dae-ho’s on her face. “Alright, the food is ready!”

His father immediately started grabbing food, not hesitating for a moment. “This is too salty.” He said the moment he took a bite.

Her face fell, “oh, I’m sorry.”

You reached for the same dish he had rejected, and put some on your plate before taking a large bite. “Mm, this is delicious Mrs. Kang.”

Her face lit up, “thank you so much!” Dae-ho’s father scowled at her, and her smile depleted. “I appreciate you being kind about it.”

Their family dynamics were playing out in front of your eyes. Dae-ho’s father was the boss. And everyone else had to obey him. The rest of the dinner played out in similar fashion, whenever anyone expressed an opinion differing from the family’s patriarch’s, it would get very quiet. Then, finally, he would start the conversation up again. You were the one who spoke ‘out of line’ the most. Dae-ho and his mother were far more practiced at deferring to him. After a delicious dinner, Dae-ho’s father stood up, “I think the men should go talk, the women can stay here and clean up.” Your stomach turned. You were liking this man less and less each time he opened his mouth.

Dae-ho was quiet, and followed his dad out of the room, into what you assumed was his dad’s ‘man cave.’

The second they left, his mother’s personality did a complete 180. A smile you hadn’t seen since she first entered the room spread across her face, and she asked a flurry of questions. “How old are you? Where are you from? How did you and my Dae-ho meet?” You quickly saw that Dae-ho took after his mother. Not only were they a splitting image of each other due to their enthusiastic smiles, but their bubbly personalities matched. You answered every question that she asked enthusiastically, and asked many of your own in return. As the conversation went on you finished packing away all the food and washing the dishes, and moved to sit at the table with a hot cup of tea that she had made from herbs in the garden.

She got quiet, and looked at you, “You know, my Dae-ho, he’s not like a lot of boys. He’s a marine, of course and he’s very strong, but…” She paused, taking a sip of her tea, “he’s soft. Not- not in a bad way, at least I don’t think so. But, he needs to be taken care of.’

“Not in the way I take care of my husband, with the chores and children,” she laughed, but it lacked enthusiasm , “But, more, in the way a man takes care of a woman.”

You knew exactly what she meant. You didn’t agree with the phrasing. It was clearly the mentality of the older generation, one that her father and husband likely drilled into her, but you understood. Dae-ho needed someone to treat him gently, the way he treated you. The way couples were supposed to treat each other.

She was saying that he was not like her husband, and that your relationship should not be like hers.

You reached for her hand and squeezed it, “I know. Don’t worry, we’ll take care of eachother.”

She smiled, and then the men came back in. Dae-ho’s father was acting like his usual self, and Dae-ho looked even more uncomfortable than he did before, if that was possible.

His father slapped him on the back, and said “we’ll do this again.”

You turned back to his mother, and you saw that a little bit of her spark had left when her husband came back into the room. You left quickly, without lingering in the apartment, and walked into the warm air of the summer night.

Dae-ho was quiet as you walked to your car. Once he stepped into the driver's seat (something you didn’t expect as you usually drove), he slumped over.

“Dae-ho, what’s wrong? Did your father say something to you?” You rubbed your hand over his back and felt his shoulders shake.

He sat up, and you could see tears running down his face, “I’m not going to be like him. I swear to you. You and our children will never have the same life as me and my mother.”

His face was red, and he was wetting his t-shirt with tears that had already dripped off his face, “Dae-ho, what happened?”

You reached towards his face and ran your thumb on his cheek, doing your best to wipe away his tears. He reached his hand up and gently held your wrist, not moving your hand away from his face.

“He- he told me I needed to learn how to be the man in the relationship. That I was weak, and that I- I-” You wiped away another tear, “I needed to put you in your place.”

Your heart broke. You had ideas of what had happened in Dae-ho’s childhood. Scars that you knew didn’t come from the Marines. Times when he took a long time in the shower, where you could hear cries just barely over the sound of the water.

He reached up and gently held onto your face, staring in your eyes as he cried “I swear to you, I will always keep you safe. We are going to be happy, and I will never let anyone hurt you or the family we’re going to have. I promise”

You nodded, and stroked his cheek again, “I know Dae-ho, you are nothing like him.”

He leaned in and kissed you, lightly, as tears streamed out of his eyes.

You got married in the church, on a cold day almost exactly a year from when you got trapped in the store in a snowstorm. Your wedding was huge, and while it wasn’t exactly what you had wanted, it was still a wonderful day. Although more than half the guests were his father’s friends and colleagues, more than enough of your friends came to celebrate the both of you.

During your engagement you had planned more than just a wedding, you planned out the next 10 or so years. You had been an obsessive planner since you were younger. It relieved your anxiety to have a path to walk on. If you saved for the next year and a half you could afford a small house on the outskirts of Seoul, it was in a military housing neighborhood for Veterans and active duty service members who had served 10 or more years. Dae-ho entered the military when he was 18, so he only had three years left until his second five-year contract expired, when he would be discharged.

After you moved into your house you would start trying to have a baby. You spent long nights talking to each other about your future. When you first seriously talked about kids Dae-ho’s whole face lit up.

“You really want to have kids. Little babies that are half you and half me.” You were laying on your back on the bed, with your head slightly propped up by a pillow, and Dae-ho was laying on his stomach, resting his head on your chest between your boobs.

“Yes Dae-ho, I thought we had already talked about this!” You giggled, twirling a short piece of hair around your finger. He grew his hair out a little bit, it was still short, but it wasn’t buzzed anymore. “Of course I want to have kids with you.”

“I just thought- I kind of thought that you weren’t sure, and were just agreeing to make me happy.” He said quietly into your chest.

“Dae-ho, that’s crazy. You know I wouldn’t lie to you, especially about something as important as that.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I think I just pushed the anxiety of the thought that you were lying deep down so I didn’t have to deal with it. I was just scared. Because of…” He took a deep breath against your t-shirt, breathing in your smell to comfort himself, “after you met my dad I was scared you wouldn’t want to have kids with me. I know- I know you said I was nothing like him, but I was still nervous.”

You ran your fingers through his hair and gently tilted his head back to make eye contact, “Dae-ho, I need you to listen to me. I want to have a family with you, because I love you. When I look at you I don’t see your father’s son, I see you. I see Kang Dae-ho, the man I love, the man I choose to be with because I know how kind and gentle and loving he is.”

Dae-ho smiled, and a tear tracked down his cheek. You whispered, “so, of course I want to have a bunch of mini-yous running around.”

You hadn’t decided how many kids you wanted, knowing that no matter what you decided on now would likely change once you had a couple of little ones running around. You decided to have at least two, a boy and a girl. Even though you knew the genders weren’t something you could control at all.

Your wedding day was fantastic. Although his father only smiled when there was a camera in his face, and two of Dae-ho’s sisters’ kids threw up, it was wonderful.

And your wedding night was exactly what you had been dreaming about too. Dae-ho was kind, and soft, and gentle. You had still been scared, so much pressure was put on the moment to be perfect. And, it was as close to perfect as it could be. It was romantic, and you felt closer to another human being than you had ever before.

There were several bouts of laughter whenever Dae-ho would make a joke to relieve the tension. Dae-ho started crying at one point, and it made you cry too. There was so much love in this moment that it overflowed and formed tears from the both of you.

You had almost saved up enough money to buy a house when Dae-ho got a call. It had taken you longer than you had expected to save up money. You were desperately looking for a job in your field, and while you were looking you got fired from the convenience store. Your boss’ son had gotten to the age where he started working, and they needed to save money. Although you weren’t happy about it, there was nothing you could do.

After spending a month applying to any and every position you could find, nothing worked out. So, you had to go back to working at another small corner store, unfortunately, this time with less pay. It had been two years since your wedding, when Dae-ho came home excited. He was going on a trip to the countryside with his company, helping train new conscripts.

He left the next week, kissing your forehead before rushing out the door. You giggled, he acted like he was going on vacation, instead of going to a work event.

The first half of the week was normal. Dae-ho called every evening, and he dropped his voice several octaves each time. You could tell that members of his squad were always around him whenever talked louder and acted more macho on the phone.

It was late on Thursday night when you heard someone knocking at your door. You were confused as to what it could be, maybe one of your neighbors needed help with something?

You looked through the peephole, surprised to see a man standing in a formal military uniform in the hallway. You opened it quickly, not bothering to fix your disheveled appearance.

“Are you Mrs. Kang?”

You rubbed your eyes with your hand, confused. “Yes. What is it?” “I’m here to inform you there’s been an incident involving your husband. We’ll need you to come with us.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach, “what incident? What happened?” Dae-ho was at a training camp. He was supposed to be safe. What was happening.

“There was a shooting incident at the base, he is injured, but in stable condition. We will take you to the hospital as soon as possible. It’s best for him to have a family member with him at this time.”

“Okay, let me go change really quick.” You paused, looking up at the soldier, “Do you want to come in?” He shook his head, “No thank you ma’am.” You were still in shock. You weren’t fully conscious of what your body was doing as you changed and grabbed the necessities, a toothbrush, change of clothes, and all of you and Dae-ho’s medical information.

The car ride to the airport felt fuzzy, the soldier sitting next to you not saying anything as another man drove. The airplane was more surreal. You didn’t fly very often, travelling outside of Korea was a luxury you couldn’t afford. And whenever you travelled within Korea the train’s cheaper price point far outweighed the longer time it took to travel.

It started to sink in that something very bad had happened to your husband, and the thought itself felt like your heart was being squeezed in a vice grip.

The world still felt blurry until you finally arrived at the hospital. There was a vivid sunrise in the sky over the hospital, and you could hear birds singing.

The haze only completely stopped when you were guided to his hall, and a doctor approached you. “Hello, are you Mr. Kang Dae-ho’s wife.”

“Yes, yes I am.” You snapped into focus, a complete 180 from the past couple of hours. “Your husband is alright. There was a shooting on the base and in the chaos your husband was pushed down the stairs and fell onto a table.”

You let out a sigh of relief. In the back of your mind there had been a fear that your husband was critically injured, even though the soldier had informed you that he was stable. “He received injuries to his leg, back, and groin area. We don’t perceive any long term damage, however we will be monitoring him for the next couple of days.” “Can I see my husband?” The doctor had said all you needed him to say. Whatever else happened, the only person you wanted to hear it from was Dae-ho. You needed to be there by his side, to take care of him the way you had promised his mother you would.

“Yes, of course.”

The doctor led you down the hall, and opened Dae-ho’s door. He was awake and staring out the window from his hospital bed.

“Dae-ho!” You rushed towards him.

The look on his face confused you. He almost looked guilty. “What’s wrong?”

He chuckled, the laugh sounding forced, “I fell down the stairs, I’m gonna look a little weird for a while.” He smiled at you, but you didn’t believe it’s genuinity for a second.

You backed away from him to close the door, and then walked back to sit at his bedside. “Dae-ho, please don’t lie to me. Tell me what happened.” He looked away, and sniffled, wiping his hand under his nose to brush over it, “it’s nothing, really.”

You grabbed the other hand and squeezed it, “okay. Then tell me what it is about this ‘nothing’ that’s making you upset. I promise, no matter what it is, I’ll be here for you.”

He got quiet, and whispered, “I couldn’t help.” He sniffled again. “I woke up to the sound of gunshots, and I was running towards them. For once in my life I wasn’t being a coward. But when I reached the stairs to help, someone brushed my arm, and I fell. The person ran past me and out the door, away from the gunshots. I- I couldn’t do anything.”

You squeezed his hand again, “it was dark, and all I could hear was the sounds of bullets. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t do anything. I thought they would come and shoot me. The one time I try to do something right, the one time I try to be a real man, I fail. I failed those people, and all I could think was that I was going to die. I wanted to run, I wanted to leave, but I couldn’t move. My legs would probably work, but I was just too scared. I’m a coward”

He was crying, tears ran down his face, “Dae-ho, that wasn’t your fault. You were scared, you did what anyone else in your situation would do, no matter who they are.” You reached forward, and wiped some of the tears off his cheek.

“In the dark, I feel- I feel the same way I did. When they closed the curtains earlier today to let me sleep I was terrified. I heard the sound of footsteps in the hallway, and I wanted to run. And then the shame for wanting to run came. But I was scared. I couldn’t make myself sleep. I was so scared (y/n), I’m so sorry, I was scared, I was sca-”

You interrupted him, “Dae-ho, please don’t do this to yourself.”

He sighed, “I know, I know. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

You leaned in, and laid on his chest the way he usually lays on you, “Dae-ho, please don’t be sorry, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’ll tell you what, I’ll lay right here, and I’ll wake you up if I need any help. I promise you, nothing bad will happen while you sleep. ”

He nodded, even though you could still hear sniffling. It took him longer than usual to get to sleep. Usually within a minute it was lights out, but you could still hear the sound of quiet sobs for at least half an hour after you rested on his chest. You didn’t say anything, you knew that all he needed right now was presence, and to rest.

The next year was difficult. You decided to place your plans on hold to help Dae-ho heal. Nights were especially hard, you would wrap yourselves around one another for comfort. Dae-ho got quieter, and it was hard for him to be out in public. Everything was too loud.

You realized very quickly that the two things he found most difficult were the dark, and loud noises. After his company briefly tried to put him back into the position he had before, they discovered that he was incapable of doing it. The first time there was a shooting drill Dae-ho panicked and ran away. They found him in a closet crying. He had come home guilty, and you held him as he cried because of the fear and shame that you couldn’t take away no matter how hard you tried

His superiors switched him to a desk job. Although Dae-ho felt ashamed, you had to admit that it suited him better.

You moved into your new house after Dae-ho was officially discharged. He got a job at a small office run by another Marine veteran, and his hiring bonus was just enough for the down payment.

Although a lot of things had gone wrong in the last year, you settled into a life of normalcy. You got a job working for a fruit vendor at a local market, and were able to walk to and from work every day. The pay was just as terrible as before, but the hours allowed both you and Dae-ho to be home by 5 every day.

“Honey, I’m home!” Dae-ho said in English. ever since you had watched several 90s sitcoms, Dae-ho became obsessed with the cheesy line and said it every time he came home from work.

“I’m in the kitchen!” You called out, stirring a pot of soup you had made.

“Wow, it smells fantastic.” He said, walking up to you and kissing your cheek as he looked down at the pot. “You really didn’t have to do this, I know you must be exhausted.”

“I know, I just thought we should have an extra nice meal tonight.” Dae-ho raised an eyebrow, “why tonight specifically?”

You looked down at your feet, nervous, “well, I was thinking…” You looked back up at him, “I think it’s time to start trying for a baby.”

There was silence in the room for a moment. You knew Dae-ho wanted kids, but growing anxiety brewed in your stomach that maybe he wasn’t ready, or maybe the incident had changed his mind.

All that doubt was squashed when Dae-ho’s face erupted into the largest smile you had ever seen. He picked you up in both of his arms and started shouting “Yes, yes, yes! I’ve been waiting for this!”

He peppered kisses all over your face, and laughed heartily, “what do you mean you’ve been waiting for me?” You giggled, realizing that there wasn’t a hesitant bone in his body.

“Well, I mean that it’s your body. I didn’t want to pressure you. I figured that you would ask when you were ready.” The sentiment warmed your heart, and even though you didn’t think it was possible, made you even more sure you wanted this man to be the father of your child.

You kissed his forehead, “that might have been the sweetest thing you’ve ever said.” Dae-ho kissed you on the lips, and started walking towards the bedroom with you still in his arms. “Dae-ho! My soup.”

He pouted, but put you down. “After dinner.” You said, giggling.

“After a delicious dinner, I’ll have an even tastier treat.” You laughed, hitting him on the arm.

“Dae-ho, your mind is so dirty!” He laughed in response.

Your dinner was as delicious as you knew it would be, and your night was even better.

Planning was your strong suit. You had researched everything that would increase your chances at having a baby. You knew what you could, and couldn’t afford. Your budget fit raising kids, but there was no way you could afford IVF or any expensive medication anytime soon. You got a bunch of vitamins for the both of you, strictly tracked your ovulation cycle, and made a list of things you and Dae-ho couldn’t do to increase your chances of conceiving. No drinking, no eating certain foods, and an hour of exercise every day. You begrudged the lists. You only did all the things to increase your chances, but Dae-ho did everything enthusiastically. He was excited to take all the vitamins and eat all the special foods, and go on the nightly runs you had decided to do together after dinner. To him, it was another part of the exciting process of having a baby. To you, it was the torture you had to endure to get the greatest reward.

A lot of couples got pregnant quickly after trying. The year anniversary of the day you started trying, you started to get nervous. A year was abnormal

“Dae-ho, do you think something is wrong?” You asked him as you laid in bed one night.

“No, these things happen. It just takes longer for some people than others.” He kissed your shoulder as you spooned, and quickly went back to sleep. You stayed up longer, fearful about the possibility that something could be wrong.

A year and a half is when Dae-ho started to get anxious too. He did his best to hide it from you, but there were moments where you could feel his worry lingering in the air. Dae-ho’s sleep had gotten better. He would have nightmares, but he never had any trouble falling asleep. That changed when he started to worry about why you weren’t pregnant yet. He would hold you tight to his chest in the middle of the night, and you could hear his steady breathing for a much longer time than usual while you tried to fall asleep.

After two years, you made an appointment with a fertility doctor. It was expensive, so you wanted to postpone spending a lot of money on doctors as long as possible, but it became unavoidable. Whenever you had dinner with Dae-ho’s family you would both stare sadly at all of the nieces and nephews running around.

Both of his parents would poke and prod and ask you when you were having kids. His mother in a kind, empathetic way, asking you dozens of probing details in her excitement of being a grandma again. As soon as you started trying for a baby, Dae-ho called her. He was giddy and excited on the phone, and they were both deeply enthusiastic.

His father was different, and he got worse the longer it had been since you had started trying. He blamed Dae-ho for the fact that you didn’t have kids yet. He would always demand to know if you were pregnant yet. And Dae-ho would be forced to say that no, you weren’t. He would then call Dae-ho weak and tell him that he needed to “do better,” even though you being pregnant or not wasn’t something either of you had any control over once you had started doing everything you needed to to increase your chances..

But the biggest reason for you going to the fertility doctor, was that you both just really wanted to have kids. You would rub your belly absentmindedly during the day, and Dae-ho would quickly glance away each time you caught him looking. Your house was the same as it always had been, but with each negative pregnancy test it felt emptier. Quiet with the lack of pitter-patters from children’s little feet on the wooden floors.

You made an appointment early in the morning on Monday, before either of your shifts started. Dae-ho rested his hand on your thigh as you sat in the waiting room, his knee bouncing up and down at a rapid pace. “Dae-ho, it’s going to be okay.” You said, trying to convince yourself as well.

He smiled back at you, but you could see that you both had the same anxiety, “I know.”

They called your name, and you went into a middle-aged doctor’s office. “Hello, my name is Dr. Kim. Can I get a complete history from both of you.”

She had your medical files in front of her, and asked a dozen other questions to fill in any gaps. How often you had sex, what vitamins you were taking, what your diet was.

“Well, you’re doing what you're supposed to, the next step is to do some tests to see if there are any medical reasons you haven’t successfully conceived yet.” She confirmed what you already knew, you were doing everything right. In the back of your mind you had hoped that you had missed something. You were taking the wrong vitamins, or eating the wrong foods. “And how long have you said you’ve been trying to get pregnant?” “Two years.” You said quietly.

She continued to tap on her keyboard, “it is possible that you’ve just been unlucky, and that there is nothing unusual medically. However, two years of trying without conceiving is abnormal, so these tests will be necessary to give us a comprehensive view of any factors contributing to your unsuccessful attempts at conception.’

“Mr. Kang, we will need you to give a sperm sample. A sperm sample is the only test needed to rule out male infertility. Mrs. Kang, there are several tests we need to do to see if there is anything on your part preventing you from getting pregnant. Today we will get a blood sample, and schedule other tests today for later if neither of your results have any abnormalities.”

You nodded. The entire situation was deeply uncomfortable. You didn’t want this to be part of your journey to parenthood, you wanted to be like everyone else. Romantic, and in a warmly lit bedroom instead of in a white doctor’s office.

“What do I need to do for a sperm sample?”

The doctor looked slightly confused, “well, we have a special room with some… material… to help you ejaculate into a cup. Then we send the sample to our lab to run tests, like sperm count and sperm quality.”

Dae-ho tilted his head like a confused puppy, “what do you mean by material?”

She looked incredibly uncomfortable, but you could tell that Dae-ho was truly confused and not trying to put the doctor in an awkward position. You grasped his arm, “she means porn, Honey.”

Dae-ho’s jaw dropped and he shook his head “Oh no, I don’t need any porn, I have my wife.”

The doctor quickly interjected, “sir, your wife cannot come with you.”

Dae-ho blushed, “oh yeah, of course sorry.”

The whole situation was almost amusing. The doctor’s panicked face and Dae-ho’s embarrassed expression. But you didn’t have the energy to find it funny, you were too scared.

Dae-ho left for his tests, but stopped to kiss you before he left. “Goodluck, I love you.” You smiled, “You’ve got this Dae-ho, I love you too.”

The week after your doctor’s appointment was normal . You went to work, came home, then ate dinner together and fell asleep in bed next to one another. But there was anxiety under the surface. There were more silent pauses where both of you were too preoccupied with your thoughts to say anything, and you both stayed awake long after you turned off the lights in bed. Dae-ho slept with his hand on your stomach, and his hand was clammy with the same fear you were feeling.

You got a call on Friday afternoon, “Mr. and Mrs. Kang, could we schedule a meeting next week to go over your test results?” “Yes, the doctor said we should schedule some more tests, can I do that now?”

There was a pause on the other line, “Dr. Kim doesn’t think that is necessary at this time.”

Your heart dropped. They had found something wrong. You knew it. That was the only reason they didn’t need to test anything else. They had already found the problem.

Dae-ho came home half an hour later, and you were laying in bed on your side with the curtains drawn, crying. “Honey, I’m home!”

You couldn’t call out to him. You knew the statistics, it was almost always the woman’s. You were too ashamed to face him, knowing that you were the reason you and Dae-ho couldn’t have the one thing you wanted more than anything else in the world- a family.

“(Y/n)! Where are you?”

Dae-ho rushed through your small house, desperately looking for you everywhere. You heard the footsteps stop when he reached the bedroom. He was standing in the doorway when he saw your figure laying in bed. “(Y/n), what’s wrong.” He quietly approached you, walking around the bed to kneel down in front of you, reaching up to gently wipe your tears away.

“I- I got a call from the doctor. They got the results back and wanted to set up an appointment.” His face looked concerned, but he stayed quiet as he waited for you to continue, “I think- I think somethings wrong with me. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I failed you.”

The tears started to come stronger. You felt like you couldn’t do anything right. You couldn’t get a job, couldn’t fix your husband’s trauma, and now you couldn’t do the thing you were made for as a woman.

“(Y/n), look at me,” he stroked your hair out of your eyes, “this is not your fault. We don’t know yet, and even if there is something about your body that makes it hard to have a baby, it isn’t your fault. It’s not something you have any control over. It’ll be okay, I promise. I love you.”

He kissed you gently on your forehead. You could tell that he was also hurt by the reality that there was likely something stopping you from being able to get pregnant, but instead he focused on you. It was so sweet, and so very Dae-ho.

He made you dinner, and you ate in bed before going to sleep with your arms wrapped around one another.

Your appointment was at the same time as the one last week. You were glad they could fit you in so early, as the anticipation was killing you. You nervously entered into Dr. Kim’s office, where she was sitting with papers in front of her that you could only assume were test results.

There was no beating around the bush. Once you sat down, Dr. Kim began to talk. “I’m glad that you were available so soon. I have looked over both of your results.”

You and Dae-ho squeezed each other's hands, hoping and praying for good news.

“Mrs. Kang, I have looked over your results and I’ve found nothing abnormal with your bloodwork.” You let out a sigh of relief.

She turned to look at Dae-ho, “I looked over your past medical history, Mr. Kang, and I noticed that 3 years ago you sustained an injury to your groin while you were in the military.” You Dae-ho’s hand gripped yours tighter, and your breath sped up. “Your sperm count was very low, and I believe that your past injury may have caused or contributed to that.”

You listened intently to the doctor, but Dae-ho was completely unaware of anything else she was saying. He was solely focusing on how it was his fault, and that he was the reason your dreams couldn’t come true.

“Of course we’ll need to do some testing, but this is the most likely conclusion considering that you have had a normal sex life and no other symptoms. I’ll write a referral to the urologist, and I suggest you go in for a consultation.” She wrote on a slip of a paper, and handed you a physical copy of the referral.

“Thank you, Dr. Kim.” You didn’t know what else to say. Dae-ho wasn’t responding, he was staring off into the distance, and you had to lead him out of the room.

Before you exited the room, Dr. Kim spoke up, “Mr and Mrs Kang?”

Dae-ho stayed facing forward, but you turned to face the doctor, “I truly am sorry, and I wish you the best.”

You nodded, and left, leading Dae-ho out beside you. Dae-ho didn’t respond during the ride home. You didn’t talk to him. Nothing you could say would make him feel better, you just needed to get home and then maybe you would be able to comfort each other.

Dae-ho walked to the bathroom as soon as you got home. You didn’t stop him, and sat down on the couch staring into space.

You heard crashing from the bathroom, and ran in to see Dae-ho throwing the vitamin bottles on the ground. “It’s bullshit, it’s all bullshit!”

The next bottle he threw down was glass, and it shattered into a million little pieces on the ground, “Dae-ho, stop!” You grabbed his arm to stop him from throwing another bottle. That seemed to snap him out of his daze.

He started crying, and you pulled his head down to nuzzle into your chest. You wrapped your arms around him, and started stroking his back. “It’s my fault, it’s all my fault.” You quietly shushed him, and ran your fingers through his hair. “Shh, Shh, it’s not your fault.”

“Yes, it is,” he sobbed, “I was the one who couldn’t do anything, I’m a fucking marine and I got pushed down the stairs and laid there like a coward. I’m the one whose fault it is that we can't have a baby.”

“Dae-ho, we don’t know anything for sure. We’ll go to the urologist and see if they can help us.” You gently pulled his head back to look into his eyes, the same way he did when you thought it was your body causing your infertility, “but even if we can’t have kids, I want you to know that this isn’t on you. Everything you said to me, about how it isn’t my fault and how no matter what it’ll be okay, is true.”

The sad look in his eyes showed that he didn’t believe you. You sighed, “let’s get out of here, you should go lay in bed and I’ll make us something to eat. Be careful when you step, I’ll clean up the glass in a second.” Dae-ho pulled away, “no, I failed as a father, I will not fail as a husband. I’ll take care of it.” You grabbed his shoulders when he tried to move away, “listen to me. The only difference between us is the name “husband” versus the name “wife.” Our job is to take care of each other. When I need you, you take care of me. And now, it’s my turn to return the favor.”

He nodded apprehensively. You could tell that he had some hold-ups, but he didn’t argue with you. You both knew this about your marriage, but everything his father had told him was hard to deprogram.

You made a stew, and cleaned up the glass while it was simmering. Before you entered your bedroom, you heard Dae-ho talking. You stopped outside the door.

“I promise you, it will all be okay. Your daddy is going to make sure you will get to see this whole beautiful world.” Concerned, you opened the door. Dae-ho was sitting in the bed holding a onesie that his mother had given him after you told her you had started trying.

“Hey.” You said, walking towards him and handing him the bowl.

“Hey.”

He ate a spoonful of the soup and then took a deep breath, “I’m so sorry that I messed up our plans.”

“Dae-ho-” You interrupted, but he held up his hand to signify that he wanted to finish his thought.

“I know you don’t blame me. But I can’t help the way I feel. I know- I know everything you’re going to say and everything you’re thinking, and I’m sorry but I- I just can’t believe you right now. I’ll only be able to when we have everything figured out. I’m sorry, that's just- that’s just what I need.”

Your heart broke, but you knew his words to be true. There was nothing you could say to change how he felt. “Okay. But if you know what I’m thinking, then you know that I mean it when I tell you that everything is going to be alright. I promise you I would never lie to you Dae-ho.”

He smiled at you, with tears still glimmering in his eyes, “okay, I believe you.”

Dae-ho scheduled an appointment in the afternoon later in the week. It was in the middle of the work day, but it was either that or waiting over a month. “I’ll take off work to go with you.”

“(Y/n), it’s fine. I promise.”

You objected again, talking with your mouthful as you ate a bite of oatmeal, “Dae-ho really, it’s okay.”

He paused, and looked at you, “to be honest, I want to do this by myself. I just- I don’t think I can take it if there’s something seriously wrong and you’re there. I wouldn’t be able to handle it if I got bad news and had to look at you, I think it would kill me.”

You were silent, “okay, but if you need me, please, please just call.”

He reached over and squeezed your hand, “of course. You trust me, right?”

You squeezed his hand back, completely sure of what you were about to say, “always.”

Dae-ho didn’t call you during the day, but you called him several times. You were beginning to get worried, and told your boss that you had to leave early. She understood, and the second she said you could go, you ran towards your house.

You weren’t sure what to expect. Maybe an empty house, maybe an emptied liquor cabinet if there was bad news. What you weren’t expecting was for Dae-ho to be sitting cross legged on the ground in front of your table, with papers completely covering the wood.

“Dae-ho what’s going on? I was terrified!” You plunked your bag down on the ground.

He looked up at you, surprised to see you, “(Y/n), what’re you doing home?” “I’m only home an hour early. Did you not see my calls? I’ve been trying to reach you all day!” You said, exasperated but relieved to see he was okay.

He reached down to look at his phone, and then looked back up at you guiltily. He said quietly, “oh, sorry. I’ve been so focused I didn’t realize.”

You sat down next to him, looking over the papers to try and make sense of what they were.

Before you could understand, he grabbed your shoulders to turn you to face him. “I did all the tests, and- and it’s a lot of news.” You were concerned, he didn’t usually react like when he found out important things. And he certainly didn’t react like after your last visit to the fertility doctor. “They can fix it. We can have a baby!”

Your eyes lit up, and without realizing it happy tears began to leak out of your eyes. Before you could fully celebrate you had to stop yourself. “But then, what is this?”

“It’s expensive, it’s really expensive. But I- I did all the math and I think- I think we can do it.”

There were so many emotions swirling around in your head. Fear of the cost, fear of the future, but Dae-ho brought you back down to earth. “I know, I know. But (Y/n), it’ll be okay.”

You believed him, you would always believe him.

He smiled a big smile you hadn’t seen in a long smile, and he quickly pulled you into a hug. He pressed kisses all over your head, and finally, finally you allowed yourself to feel completely hopeful again.

You did another set of tests to make sure that you didn’t have any conditions yourself that would affect your fertility. Sure enough, all of your results came back squeaky clean.

Dae-ho’s treatment was going to cost a lot. The initial appointments you two had scheduled had cost over a thousand dollars.

Dae-ho’s surgery was over 10 thousand dollars. Your mortgage was high, and since it was still the early years of owning your house you wanted to pay as much as possible before interest tripled the original cost of your house. The conclusion that you reached was that you could afford the surgery in two years.

It was a bittersweet feeling, on one hand you were heartbroken that you had to wait longer, but a finish line made the pain easier. Finally, there was certainty. You circled the day when you would schedule the surgery for, and every morning you would look at the calendar to remind yourself what you were working so hard for.

Your house didn’t feel so empty anymore. The silence was still hard to deal with sometimes, but you and Dae-ho busied yourselves with buying baby clothes, and picking out things for the nursery. Both of you were happier, even though you could tell that Dae-ho still had a lingering guilt because of his condition.

In the week before the surgery you felt yourself buzzing with excitement. It felt like you were walking on air. Dae-ho was so enthusiastic that every day when he came home he would run to you, swoop you up in his arms and laugh as he kissed your face. It became the highlight of your day.

Most of the time people were nervous on the morning of a surgery. But not you and Dae-ho. The drive to the clinic was filled with laughter and loud music. Everything was finally going according to plan.

Right before Dae-ho went into surgery pulled you into a hug and whispered into your ear, “this is it, the rest of our life starts now.”

You squeezed him in the hug and smiled, and he waved goodbye as he walked into the room where he would get prepped for surgery. The longer he was in the operating room, the more nervous you got. You knew that the surgery would probably take an hour or an hour and a half, but as the time approached and passed that mark your anxiety grew. Finally, after two hours, the doctor came back.

You stood up excitedly, ready to hear the good news.

“I’m sorry Mrs. Kang, the damage was more extensive than we initially thought. We weren’t able to perform the surgery.” Your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t handle this. You had kept it in for so long, had done everything right, had waited patiently only to have it end with even more bad news.

You couldn’t stop yourself. You ran over to the trash can and threw up your breakfast, overwhelmed with the grief of your hopes and dreams yet again being crushed.

Sitting in the waiting room, you felt broken. Your cheeks were wet and all you could do was stare straight ahead as you waited for them to bring Dae-ho out of surgery. It was an outpatient surgery, which meant that he would go home after. You were glad at first, because it would save money, but now you were dreading having to go back to the empty house together. You didn’t want him to see your pain and think for even a second that you blamed him.

Dae-ho was wheeled out, and you felt another piece of your heart break off when you saw the look on his face. “Dae-ho.”

He looked up at you with his big puppy-dog eyes, “Let’s go home. Can we please just go home.”

You were growing accustomed to heartbroken silent drives. Dae-ho made to leave the car when you got home, but you locked the door. You couldn’t deal with either of you having a breakdown once you were inside your house.

“Can we talk, please?” You begged.

“I’m sorry. I just- I had so much hope that this nightmare would be over, but it just keeps going.”

You looked over at him. “It’s not over. We’re not done. Please don’t give up. Please. It’ll be okay, I promise.” You pleaded.

Dae-ho finally looked back over to you, “okay. Okay.” He took a deep shaky breath, “we’ll keep trying. The Kangs aren’t quitters.” He said with a light chuckle, bringing a smile to your face.

The next week you went back to your doctor. “Unfortunately it looks like our only alternative is to do sperm removal followed by IVF.” He paused, looking at a list of personal information, “your financial situation would make this procedure very difficult, I hate to say this, but have you considered adoption?” Your heartbeat spiked, “yes, my husband is a Marine Corps veteran diagnosed with PTSD, we aren’t considered candidates.” You had been through all of this years ago. Early on you had looked into adoption. Before you had even tried to get pregnant naturally. Both you and Dae-ho wanted to help a child without a home and add them to your little family of Kangs. You were shocked to find out that because of Dae-ho’s PTSD you couldn’t adopt. He had nightmares and was afraid of loud noises and the dark, but there was nothing about his PTSD that would make him a bad father. But, for some reason a little note on his discharge papers crossed out one of your options.

“Okay, well the procedure will be expensive, but IVF for healthy women under the age of 35 has an over 50% success rate.”

Once you got home Dae-ho pulled you into a hug the second you crossed the threshold. “We’ll make this happen, I promise you.”

You burrowed your head into his chest and mumbled, “I know, I know. I believe you.”

And so the cycle started again. It was another two years before you saved up enough money.

You both had surgery on the same day, and watched with delight as the doctor showed you the embryos after they had medically joined your egg and Dae-ho’s sperm. Tears streamed down your face as you saw what would become your baby on the screen. You never knew you could feel so attached to a couple of small dots, but here you were. The doctor gave you a print out, something they didn’t usually do but Dae-ho begged for, and went home. Your appointment was scheduled for the next week, it was the happiest week you had in years. You and Dae-ho went on long walks every night, you got dinner with his sisters and your friends. It was fantastic, and the night before the implantation you stayed up late and talked about baby names for hours.

Everything finally went to plan. The implantation went smoothly, and three weeks later when you and Dae-ho were sitting in the bathroom together, there were so many emotions buzzing in the air it felt electric.

“I’m going to turn it over.”

“Okay.” Dae-ho was pressing his hands together and praying, something he almost never did.

You screamed, “oh my God!”

Dae-ho jumped up and grabbed the stick out of your hand. A pink plus sign.

Dae-ho shouted out in joy and wrapped his arms around you and started jumping up and down. Dae-ho then paused and sunk down to his knees, pressing his head against your belly.

You stilled as he pulled your shirt up and put his forehead against your stomach. You could feel wet tears on your belly. “Hello baby.” He whispered, “this is your daddy, me and your mommy love you so much and we are going to take such good care of you, I promise.”

Your heart felt full. Finally, you and your husband had a family. You were a mother, and Dae-ho was a father. The next six months were the happiest of your life. Dae-ho completely assimilated into his role as a father. He painted your baby’s room a pale yellow, and him and his mother picked out more baby clothes than your child could possibly wear.

He had a copy of every ultrasound photo in his wallet, in chronological order. There were so many of them that the wallet started to bulge with all the extra paper.

You were just as ecstatic as him. When you and Dae-ho were cuddling, he would reach around from his spot as the big spoon to rest his hand on your belly. You would draw circles next to it, and whisper to your baby, “it’s your mom. You know, before you and your dad were in my life I felt lost. And now, I’m happy about every step I’ve taken. It led me right here. Thank you little baby, mom loves you.” It was too early in your pregnancy for the baby to hear you, so you giggled to yourself before drifting off to sleep.

The only time you had ever seen Dae-ho’s father proud was when Dae-ho excitedly shouted, “we’re pregnant!” Three minutes after entering their house, unable to hold in his excitement for a moment longer.

Although you did hear his dad mutter “took you long enough” under his breath, his mother’s unapologetic excitement made up for it. Before you knew it you had five knitted baby hats and five knitted baby socks in the top drawer of your dresser.

Dae-ho would excitedly shout “we’re pregnant!” Whenever anyone would so much as glance at your baby bump. Most of the time it annoyed you to no end when fathers would say, “we’re pregnant,” while their wives were the only ones actually doing any work. But in Dae-ho’s case you think he earned it. He did all of the chores, prepared dinner for the next day the night before, and treated you like a queen. Besides, he looked so cute every time he said it.

Your pregnancy was easier than you could have ever imagined, even in your wildest dreams. You had no morning sickness, very little fatigue, and your baby hit all of their milestones early. You decided not to figure out if it was a boy or girl until they were born, and so your baby was affectionately nicknamed “little Dae” during your pregnancy.

Truly, you had never been happier.

Dae-ho came home with take-out at the usual time. You liked to eat healthy, but it was Friday night and you agreed to have a little treat at the start of every weekend.

“Honey, I’m home!” Dae-ho called out. No response.

“(Y/n), where are you?” You had to be at home, either you or your boss would have called him if you had to stay late.

He walked through the house, finally stopping in front of the bathroom door. Dae-ho shakily opened it, and upon seeing the scene inside, immediately rushed to you.

You were laying on the floor of the bathroom, unconscious and surrounded by blood. He rushed into action, he had run scenarios of every possible nightmare scenario that could happen the second you got pregnant but it didn’t even come close to preparing him for this.

He picked you up and ran to the car. Dae-ho didn’t remember the drive to the hospital. Every other second he would glance at you lying unconscious in the passenger seat as he sped through the streets of Seoul.

The hospital parking lot was full so Dae-ho parked illegally. He picked you up in both arms and rushed you into the ER, not bothering to turn off the ignition.

The staff jumped up the second they saw you, and quickly tore you out of his hands. A doctor quickly noticed your baby bump and asked you if you had any previous pregnancy complications. He shook his head, and before he could react they were rushing you away from him. He tried to race after you, but two orderlies held him back. Once he couldn’t see you anymore, he collapsed to his feet sobbing.

Dae-ho was hyper aware of everything going on around him. Every beep, every footstep, everything. A doctor came out and questioned him on your medical history. He had it memorized.

It felt like forever before the doctor came out.

“Mr. Kang?”

Dae-ho immediately stood up and nodded, “your wife experienced something called placental abruption. It’s when the placenta detaches from the uterus. Due to the severity, we performed an emergency C-section.”

“Emergency C-section?” Dae-ho blurted out, “no, it’s too early.”

The doctor sighed, “Yes, 25 weeks is very early, however it was our best option.”

“How are they?” The doctor was talking too slowly, Dae-ho needed answers now.

“Your wife’s placental abruption was very severe, and there were significant complications. She’s very weak, and will have to stay in the ICU. She will need further surgery to try and fix the damage, but due to the amount of blood loss we couldn’t continue the surgery longer.” Dae-ho felt like there was a weight crushing his chest. He couldn’t breathe, “and- and the baby.” He was scared to ask. He didn’t know if he could live if his child died, and he knew he couldn’t if you left him.

“He’s in the NICU, I’m going to be honest with you, premies this size struggle, but we will do everything we can and if he begins to improve, his outlook is very good.”

His son. His son. He had a little baby somewhere in the hospital, all alone and by himself, without his mother to take care of him. Completely new to the world. “Can I- can I-” The words didn’t come out, but the doctor seemed to understand.

“Yes, of course. Due to disease risk you can’t visit for long and will have to wear sterile clothing, but you can visit briefly.”

Dae-ho didn’t have to decide which of you to see first. He had to see his son. He knew you, and he knew that you loved your baby more than anything. You wouldn’t want him to be alone right now. A nurse put a set of scrubs on Dae-ho, and then he was ready to enter the room. He had a face mask, a cap, and gloves on, and there were booties on his feet.

As soon as the automatic door slid open, time stopped. There were several babies in the room, but Dae-ho’s eyes quickly found the one that said “Baby Kang.” His feet moved without realizing it, and before he knew it was standing in front of the incubator.

His son was so small. He was tiny. There were wires everywhere and his skin was bright red. But even then Dae-ho could still see his tiny chest rise and fall slowly. Dae-ho started crying and it was one of the only times in his life where he felt no shame for breaking down. The tiny infant in front of him was perfect.

“Sir, you can reach your hand in to gently touch his arm.”

Shaking, Dae-ho reached his hand into the incubator. A wave of emotions passed over him when the baby grabbed onto his finger. The tiny baby held on for dear life.

Dae-ho waited as long as he could, standing, staring at his baby boy until the nurse told him he needed to leave before the risk of viral infection became too high.

The nurse led him to your room. You were laying in a hospital bed with a million tubes attached to your body. You were unconscious with a tube pushed down your throat, with tape over your eyes to prevent them from getting dry.

He reached towards your hands, and took your gloved ones in his.

“(Y/n). He’s perfect. He’s so perfect, and I can just- I can just tell he’s a fighter. He’s so strong, just like his mommy. He- he loves you, and we- we need you to hold on.” He was crying, wetting the mask over his nose, “I’m so proud of you, of both of you. I need you so much, please I just-”

He started sobbing. There were no words able to express everything he felt, and everything he wanted to say. All he could do was cry.

For the second time that day, he was kicked out of a hospital room. “Can I- can I stay?” He pleaded to the nurse.

She sighed, “you can stay in the NICU waiting room overnight. But, I recommend you go home first.” She motioned to the plain scrubs he had been given to change out of his blood-soaked ones. “If you have any baby things collected yet, you should get them. Also, bring any insurance information and medical records for your wife, and some comfort items for both of you if she wakes up.” The word if stabbed him in the heart, but he nodded.

Dae-ho didn’t want to leave either of your sides, but he had no choice. His parents were visiting one of his sisters in the countryside, and the majority of your friend group were at a wedding in Jeju that you couldn’t go to due to saving money for the baby.

Dae-ho was determined to get from home to back as quickly as possible. Once he got to the parking lot, he clicked his car keys several times. He didn’t remember where he parked, he was in too much of a rush to get inside when he arrived at the hospital. Dae-ho walked around the entire parking lot looking for the car, before going back inside to check with the front-desk woman.

“Hello, ma’am, I came in with my wife and I- I can’t find my car.” He said, his tone of voice exactly reflecting his feelings.

The woman looked up, “okay, we have cameras in the parking lot, what is the make and model?”

He gave the information to her, and when she came back from a room he assumed held the security cameras, she had visibly paled.

“I’m so sorry sir, I checked the cameras. It appears as if you left the car door open and the vehicle was stolen. I can call the police and we can see what they can do.” She said apologetically.

“No, I can- let’s just do that later okay.” Dae-ho turned around and walked out the front door. He had no energy left.

Dae-ho walked to a subway station next to the hospital, and jumped over the turnstile. He knew his way around the subway station. In his early 20s he didn’t have a car, and had familiarized himself with the city’s subway stations. If anyone confronted him about not paying, he knew they would quickly back down once they heard why.

Dae-ho sat down on a bench in front of the train that would take him home, and put his head in his hands.

“Excuse me sir, would you like to play a game?” Dae-ho looked up to see a tall man in a well-pressed suit staring down at him. “No.” Dae-ho snapped, looking back down at the floor.

The man sat down next to him. “Do you know how to play Ddakji?”

Dae-ho scooted slightly away from the man, determined to ignore him.

“If you play with me I will let you in on a-”

“Listen here sir, I don’t know you and I do not want to play a game. Please leave me alone.” Dae-ho said, looking the man in the eye, trying to deter him. The man let out a slight chuckle, “not even for 100,000 won?”

Dae-ho wanted to say no, but he couldn’t. The thought of the cost of all your medical treatments was something he hadn’t thought about yet. It was so far less than his fear for both of your lives that the thought of paying medical bills hadn’t come close to entering his thoughts before now. He had heard stories of friends-of-friends dying or going bankrupt because of hospital bills. He was horrified of the same thing happening to you or the baby. He would do whatever it took to save you, borrow millions of dollars from loan sharks, work 20 hours a day, he wouldn’t let anything happen to you. It was a potential he couldn’t confront. He wouldn’t let you die, but what would he do even if he could get the money? You would be destitute, and his child growing up in poverty was a thought that horrified him. As much as he hated it, a short game with a crazy man would be worth it if it could help prevent that possibility.

“What’s the catch?” Dae-ho was desperate, not stupid.

“Well, if I win, I give you 100,000 won. If you win, you give me the same, simple as that.” The man responded, his smile not quite reaching his eyes..

“I don’t have 100,000 won.” Dae-ho didn’t care about embarrassing himself in front of strangers on the subway, he had much bigger things to worry about.

The man sighed, “okay, you can pay with your body instead if you’d like,” Dae-ho raised an eyebrow and turned back away from the man with a scoff. The man chuckled again, “no no, not like that. Let’s just say, I take off 100,000 won for every loss. Sound fair?”

Dae-ho felt humiliated. But he couldn’t fail you. He couldn’t fail you over something as stupid as a slap in a children’s game. So he nodded.

The man opened up his briefcase and held out the two pieces, “blue or red?”

By his fourth attempt Dae-ho’s face was red and hurting. With every round he got more and more frustrated, shouting out obscenities after every slap. On the fifth attempt he finally won. Dae-ho shouted out, and with his victory the man handed him two 50,000 won notes.

Dae-ho was ready to walk away and forget the strange event that just happened, when the man spoke. “Kang Dae-ho.”

He turned around, “how the fuck do you know my name?” Dae-ho didn’t consider himself a violent man, but he turned around and walked to stand directly in front of his face.

The man chuckled, “you are 34 years old. You’ve been married for 9 years and you and your wife have been trying to have a baby for 6 of them. Yesterday, your wife went to the hospital at 25 weeks with an emergency C-section.”

“Fuck you,” Dae-ho threw a punch at the man, who caught it.

“If your child and wife receive all the treatment they need to survive, you will have to pay about 750 million won.” The man smiled, “which is far more than you can afford. You will be destitute if you can get the money. And if not- well… then I guess we know what’ll happen.”

“Why the fuck are you saying this to me?” Tears burned behind Dae-ho’s eyes, threatening to break free.

The man handed Dae-ho a business card with three shapes on it. “Call this number, my organization could help you.”

Just at that moment Dae-ho’s train came, and the man let his arm go to let Dae-ho stumble away. As he sat down on the subway Dae-ho pulled out his wallet. He took out the first ultrasound photo. The first image he ever saw of his baby. You both started bawling once you saw the tiny baby on the screen, and heard the quiet steady beat of your baby’s heartbeat over the monitor.

Dae-ho started crying in his seat on the train. He had dreamed for his entire life about what it would be like to be happy. Truly happy, away from his father’s judgement, away from the military, away from all the pain in his life. And finally, finally it had happened.

His life was beyond his wildest fantasies. He was married to the most wonderful woman in the world, and was going to be a father. You and his son were the greatest things on the planet. You were lovely and kind, and your baby had to be just as lovely and kind as you. And the two of you were somehow his, somehow his family. And then everything fell apart. He had to save you, had to fulfill the promise he had given you so long ago. That it’ll be okay.

“I promise you, daddy is going to take care of you. I’ll see you soon and then you, me and mommy will be okay.” Dae-ho kissed the ultrasound photo, then pulled out his phone and dialed the number on the card.

This took so long I don't think you understand 😭. I'm not sure how regular I will be able to write, my second semester started halfway through writing this fic and I am so crazy busy that I have almost no free time. My writing has a lot of medical stuff in general because that is my other interest besides writing (#womeninstem lol) I think I'm starting to really find my voice in writing, and it a pretty raw and realistic style. Have a good day, drink water and get sleep :)

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drgnflyteabox · 5 months ago

Text

lament [1]

part one -> honey || part two -> tbd

series masterlist

pairing: john price x fem reader summary: as you recover from prolonged illness, you meet a man on a hike in the woods just as strange things begin happening around you. tags/warnings: creepy / horror vibes, slowburn, phone sex, masturbation, injuries, mention of hospitals, pneumonia, mobility aids, softdom!price (for now), dubcon due to intoxication, tags will update as the story does w.c: 5.9k

The woods are a peaceful, meditative thing. You’ve been spending your mornings there walking with Diva, meandering through the local trails and venturing off for pictures of red mushrooms or Diva in her little yellow raincoat, sniffing something or other.

The trails were scarcely used and took a couple of hours to finish, a longer trek in taller trees that closed off the sunlight and created peace through insulation, like an echo chamber of wet pitter patter from rain the night before and the gentle calls of birds, broken only by the sounds of your hiking shoes crunching gently through pebbles and leaves.

Quiet. It’s just what you need, slowly erasing memories of bright fluorescent lights and the smell of antiseptics. The trail isn’t elevated, it’s long, but not elevated. That’s important for your recovery, two months spent in a hospital bed attached to breathing apparatus.

Relief, freedom, as slow as your steps are and as beleaguered is your breathing, it’s pure relief. You’re no longer breathing through a straw, building strength walk by walk, spending time with Diva and watching her little tail wiggle under her coat. This time is good for her, too. You could sink to your knees and praise a higher being for the time off and sick pay policies your job has - so could Diva.

The shaking continues, your limbs still weak, muscles unused to standing and walking. You often find yourself sitting, on a log or a rock, and taking time to breathe and recover. Sometimes a granola bar makes its way into the mix, sometimes a handful of trail mix.

The last few times, there’s been a man. Tall, imposing, walking much quicker than you even with a brace around his knee. His posture tells you he takes himself pretty seriously, or he��s military, if there’s any difference.

Mutton chops, mustache, cargo pants. He’s been coming up behind you with sure steps, barely a limp even with his knee, and going by you so fast there's a breeze, makes you a little nervous to get mowed down.

Diva is weary of him. Her hackles raise, though she doesn’t bark, and she tucks close to you when he goes by. You don't feel unsafe, just a little surprised at the break in monotony no matter how tiny it is.

Doesn’t help that it’s pretty nice watching him go, that broad back and tight shirt, those well sculpted legs. Hey, you’re still sick and weak, still recovering. Sue me, you think, leaning on a tree when your lungs start burning again a little too much.

He stops, a few feet in front of you.

“You broken?” His voice is just as you imagined, rough maybe from smoking, maybe from overuse.

“What?” Broken?

“You alright?” He repeats, turning then. The quiet is a little oppressive now, with your struggle. You’re wheezing.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine-” you cough, dryly. “Just asthmatic.” It’s an easy explanation, you’re trying to get him to move on. You’ve never felt in danger, but it’s still the middle of the woods and he’s still a strange man.

“Need a hand?” He has to look down at you, even from a distance. His head is tilted down, arms folding across his chest, biceps calling to you like sirens.

You shake your head, squatting down as best you can, taking the breaths learned from your doctor and pulling out your steroid inhaler. One puff, two puff.

The man looks at you skeptically, eyes small and narrowed, flitting once to Diva who would fail as a service dog, but tries her best at guarding you despite being so small. Her gaze is pinpointed to him, as stiff as he is.

”Right, then,” is all he says before he’s back to his soldiers march.

You imagine him with horse blinders on and pulling a sled behind him, wheezing a laugh into the empty air.

Recovery is not linear. That’s what your doctor tells you, what you were told before you left the ICU, before you were discharged all together. There’ll be ups and downs, moments where you feel you’ve backslid to the point of having to start all over.

You get it, really. It’s a mantra. Recovery is not linear.

What they don't warn you is that it’s different when you’re actually feeling it, waking up weaker than ever and coughing, burning in your chest. It’s jarring, every cell in your body crying for oxygen and yet you aren’t low enough that you need to go back to the ER, just sit up in bed and stare out the window to the fortress of green that surrounds your house.

Recovery is not linear. You watch comfort shows - animated Halloween specials, a couple months too early. They fit the cooling temperatures, the slow yellowing of the trees.

Food is hard when you can’t stand for long periods of time, so you order in. Soup, and an extra chicken crunch treat for Diva on her dinner.

It’s only when you turn Charlie Brown off that you hear it.

Tap tap tap. Deliberate, timed taps, like a mini hammer on a mini nail. Quiet enough that your ears strain, and yet you can just barely catch the sound. It’s coming from the side of your house, opposite to your bedroom and closest to the living room you were just in.

Tap tap tap. Maybe it’s the vibe you put yourself in, but you shiver with apprehension. Could be an animal, you do live fairly far out, and by the woods. Your driveway is long, separated from the highway just outside of town.

Diva is usually a false alarm - she raises her hackles at the stove, she’s not trustworthy when it comes to alerting you. And yet you look, and find her standing straight up and staring at the wall the sound is coming from, lips peeling back.

Only there's nothing you can do. You aren’t gonna go check, not with your weak limbs and thin breath. Theres a landline in the kitchen with a long cord, and your cellphone. The best you can do is lock the windows and doors, which you do, shuffling so as to make the least amount of noise possible.

Next the lights and curtains, drawn and shut. You tuck a knife under your mattress, more for reassurance than anything, and close your bedroom door behind Diva.

The only reason you’re able to sleep is the bedroom door locks. The handle has one, and there’s a chain above that. You tuck into bed under the covers like a child hiding from their closet, straining to hear the tap tap tap. Sometime between you locking all the entries and exits, it stopped, but you’re still unmoored.

Your lungs fare better the next morning, eased by rest. You’re back in the woods by late morning, driving up to the trailhead through the canopy of trees. It really is beautiful, part of the reason you moved here, other than peace and quiet.

There's another car as you pull up, a reliable model in a dark colour, a surprise since you’re usually the first one there.

You park away from it in an effort to not be creepy, but still sneak a peak while Diva does her post-car ride shakeout and pee.

It’s the man from before, sitting in the front seat, talking on a phone. He looks serious, frowning, talking in a measured way but you can still hear the volume as you pass by.

He waves, and you wave back, giving him a little smile.

Diva leads the way, prancing into the woods without fear even as the leaves start blocking out the sun. She inspires you - a little dog, brave, braver than you were last night.

God, it was probably a rabbit or a possum stuck somewhere. Maybe a mouse, and though you hope it isn’t it is the season for them. Cooler temperatures means creatures trying to enter your house. Means you have yet to drive down to town and pick up insulation supplies for your windows before fall really hits and you’re freezing.

Making a mental note of that, you lean heavily on your walking stick and pause. It’s one of those days, needing more aid than usual after yesterday and more breaks.

Crunch.

“Sorry, honey,” the army man holds his arms up, seeming sheepish as you flip around to face him. “Didn’t mean to scare ya.”

“Oh, no, it’s okay,” your cheeks burn in embarrassment. “Just jumpy today.”

“That’s alright,” his eyes crinkle at the corners, softening at the edges. He’s approachable today, not speed walking through the woods like there's a pot of gold at the end. “Mind if I join you?”

Unexpected, but with your eyes at pec-height it’s an easy yes. You deserve a handsome escort for the second half of the trail, and your emergency alarm is tucked in your front sweater pocket if you need it.

“Sure,” you nod. “I’m pretty slow, though, just to warn you. Recovering.”

“That’s fine, I should be taking it easier anyway. Make my physio happy for once,” he gestures to his knee with a chuckle. “John.”

You tell him your name. John. It suits him, the masculinity of it, the simpleness too. He gives the impression that he’s careful about how he presents himself, that outside of this sudden friendliness he’s very closed off - the way he was when you’d come across him before. Now he calls you honey, and touches his fingertips to your back as you navigate a patch of rough terrain warped by roots.

“I’m off until my knee is battle-ready, again,” he says it like it’s a joke, but there’s a steel edge beneath his words. You ask about his job: contract work, he says, not self-employed but with pockets of free time.

“Did you move here recently?” The wind shivers the trees, chillier than last week, as you meander.

“Ah, didn’t move here,” he scratches his thumb with his nose. “Staying with a friend. Needed the fresh air.”

“I get it,” your shoulder brushes his arm. “That’s why I moved here too.”

“Helps your asthma?”

You pause for a moment, confused. And then.

“Oh!” You’re a little embarrassed. “I don’t have asthma, actually. I mean I could have it, or develop it. But really I had pneumonia for a while, really wiped me out.”

“Ah, I see,” his voice says surprised, but his face stays the same. You wonder if he notices. “Terrible, that. My mum had a bad bout of it a couple years back, gave us a scare.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” you aren’t sure how old John is, but you can assume it was dangerous for his mother to have caught such a bad infection. “How’s she doing now?”

“Much better. Healthy as a goat.”

“A goat?” You’re laughing, then. A giggle that has him smiling back at you. “Haven’t heard that one before.”

John hums when he doesn’t reply verbally, and nods like you’re giving a university lecture. The attentiveness is nice, but it makes you self conscious, unused to having so much attention so focused on you. And he is so focused, like you’re discussing nuclear launch codes or what a quark is or something important. Honestly, it makes you hide your face in an embarrassingly shy way, avoiding eye contact.

He walks with you slowly, patiently down the path, arms crossed behind his back. Every once in a while either or the two of you laugh, which seems to bother Diva, whose been looking back at John suspiciously or trying to get between you the whole time.

“So sorry about that,” you really don’t know what’s gotten into her. Sure, she’s a pro at finding innocuous things suspicious, but you’ve been walking for a while now and she usually warms up when she realizes you’re okay with the offensive person or item.

“Don’t worry about it, honey,” honey again. He sure knows how to make a lady flustered. “She’s just looking out for her mama, right?”

If your pussy reacts to that, it’s no one’s business but your own.

The air chills, day by day. John has begun joining you on your walks every other day, and sometimes you catch him jogging to the trailhead from the road instead of driving it. It makes you wonder where he’s, whether it’s close or he’s really pushing his knee, and whether or not he’s flirting with you when he shows up all sweaty in a tight shirt.

Another anomaly is that the tapping has returned, nearly every night. You’re scared every time, won’t even let Diva out for a final pee and have stuck to walking up at the buttcrack of dawn to make sure she’s taken care of.

Tedious, is what it is. Ridiculous. And yet when those little taps come, in different places around the house now, different walls, you hide under the covers with Diva growling her little growl at the bedroom door and try to sleep.

When cabin fever starts to set in, anxiety and insane thoughts like, what if someone is trying to break into my house? You decide it’s past time for a visit to town.

The trip serves many purposes, anyways. Diva needs treats, kibble, and a new ball. You need groceries, tampons, new socks. Overall worth it outside of the fresh air and human interaction with more than just one person.

“Hey! Hey you!”

You’re in the bakery, weighing with your hands two loaves of artisanal bread. Just the one will do, since your freezer is small, but you want both. Pumpernickel or dark rye? Which will go better with the honey ham sandwich slices?

“Hello? Earth to-”

Your deliberation is interrupted by a waving in your face. You realize Jo, your only real friend in town, has run across the street to catch your attention.

“Oh gosh, my bad,” you look down at your shoes, then reach for a hug. She squeezes you.

“That’s okay, babe, off in your own world?” She’s dazzling, too cute for such a small town. Her ringlets bounce on her shoulders and her mouth, which is always smiling, is stretched wide with mirth. Makes you feel warm inside that she cares for you.

“Trying to make a hard decision. You know, end world hunger or stop all wars.” Stupid, but she laughs. You love making her laugh, and if you were lesbian you’d have made a move on her. Maybe you were, just a little.

“Why not both?” Her hands find your shoulders and squeeze. It’s then that you notice someone behind her, a much taller someone. At first the muscled chest and thick neck make you think it’s John, and a small squeeze of jealousy grips your stomach.

Then you see the mohawk, the difference in height. This man is looking at you with a similar intensity, though, all piercing blue eyes, thick furrowed brows, pin-straight posture.

“You’re right,” your laugh is more awkward, then, motioning with your eyes to the man.

“Oh, I’m so rude,” she turns to him. “This is Johnny, we met a few weeks ago.”

A wink. Ah, they met a few weeks ago. You picture them in the only bar in town, low lighting and Jo looking like Botticelli’s Venus, plump cheeks and red lips. And yeah, Johnny’s pretty good looking. You’d laugh about the mixup and the names if it wasn’t rude.

“Nice tae meet ya,” his accent is thick, palm warm and rough against yours. “Shall we, lass?”

He’s talking to Jo. They exchange glances, him looking at you once so fast you almost miss it. There’s something uncomfortably familiar about the look he gives you, but you shake it off. Nerves, you think. From the taps.

“Right,” Jo looks a little sheepish, then. “We’re off to the movies, but nice to see you!”

You raise a brow. You can’t help it, it’s 10am. Jo laughs and they leave.

You bake, sometimes. It’s a good hobby for someone on a leave of absence with nothing much else to do but read, walk and play with her dog.

The oven sometimes scares Diva, and she curls up in your room indignantly until you’re done using it. You’ve always wondered why, since she came to you as a puppy and hasn’t got a single reason to be upset with the appliance.

Oh well.

You decide to bring brown butter chocolate chip cookies on your hike, hoping to see John and give him one. Your interactions haven’t progressed past leisurely chatting and walking together, but he’s a handsome man and you're still a little stir-crazy. At least with work, it wasn’t just hours on hours of uninterrupted alone time.

Funny how that works, isn’t it? You spend every day at work wishing not to be at work, and once you have the opportunity you have no idea what to do with yourself.

John loves the cookies. He takes two right out of the Tupperware, flattering you by groaning as he eats. The recipe is that good, but you think he might be putting it on a bit anyway.

It’s sweet.

“Fantastic,” he says, licking his fingers. You try not to look. “You bake often?”

“Just something to do, keeps me busy.” Diva has growled at John again, her second offense. She’s being a real heel today, rude and fussy. You elect to schedule a vet visit for a checkup soon.

“No one to keep you company in that house?” He stops when you need to stop, takes the opportunity to stretch his bad leg.

“What?” You take a puff of the inhaler, frowning a little.

“Are you lonely?” A weird question, but you chalk it up to small town weirdness.

“A little, but that one over there keeps me company,” as if she knows, she turns and yips. “What do you mean, that house?”

“You mentioned you live in your grandfather's house, no? Inherited it.” He chuckles at Diva.

“Did I? I don’t think…” you fully frown, thinking back to your conversations. Did you mention that? You haven’t even thought of it yourself for a while, not wanting to revisit painful memories. Your grandpa did pass you his house, but you’re usually more private than offering more than surface-level information to strangers.

“I believe so,” he looks deep in thought himself, squinting up at the umbrella of trees above you. That comforts you, the fact that he’s trying to recall. You’ve been so anxious lately.

“I must have forgotten, sorry. I’ve just been so scrambled lately.” John perks up at that, turning towards you as you finally continue walking.

“Scrambled?” His palm finds the back of your arm, the meat of it. He squeezes you, and it fills you with warmth. “How so?”

“Ah, well, just some animals around my house. I think,” you meet eyes, and he gets the best of you, so you elect to stare between his brows.

“Want me to take a look?” His tone is very serious. You shiver.

“I don’t think it’s necessary… I think there’s just some mice making a home for winter. I gotta call an expert,” He slides his hand down to your elbow, holding it gently. You’re nearing the end of the trail, the woods getting brighter around you. Diva marks her territory here more than anywhere else and yips at John again.

“I could do it for free though, honey,” the air drops where you are, a gust of wind creating a symphony of sound all around you. A little romantic, you think. Ridiculous.

“Well,” far be it from you to pass up free help. “Only if you let me pay you back somehow.”

“You have already,” he holds up the cookie Tupperware, shaking it gently.

“Then let me make you dinner. Whatever you want!” The enthusiasm in which you say it has you cringing at yourself, but mentally you justify it; it’s completely normal to invite a friend over, especially to pay back a favour. You’re not being obvious that you’re attracted to him at all, no sir. Definitely not scared and in need of comfort, Mr John sir.

“Sounds like a plan. I’m free after 7 o’clock.”

You elect to be cliche and make British food. Good British food, a proper roast. Something you’d had a few times with friends in pubs or that time you’d visited London as an exchange student. Hot, smothered in gravy, salty and perfect with a mug of beer British food. You really hope he likes it, that he doesn't think you’re weird or making fun of him for his accent.

John is a proper gentleman, so punctual that he knocks on your door the very second it turns to 7:30 on your oven timer.

Diva has to battle her hatred of the stove with her need to announce a guest, staying in hallway purgatory barking at both.

The smell of garlicky roast beef, rosemary and thyme, salt and boiling potatoes is rife in the air, no doubt spilling into the woods through your badly insulated windows.

The moment it hits John, you can see it. Your door opens, creaking, and his eyes fix to you so quickly it’s almost physical.

“Hey! Thanks for coming,” you open it, motioning for him to come in. “Don’t mind Diva, she’s not a fan of the oven being on.”

He toes his boots off, still staring, like you’re a prize heifer and he’s set on buying you at the farm auction. A little sexy, mostly nerve wracking. Diva peeks around the corner at him and the sound of her little nails on the hardwood breaks the tension.

“Smells like home,” he leans closer to you to put his coat up on the rack. “You really went through all this trouble?”

“It’s the least I can do for your help.” At that moment, he seems to remember.

“Right, the mice. Want to show me where you heard them, or can I not steal you away from the stove?” His voice deepens as he talks, intensifying, grating hot coals and growling like a bear. Blue, focused eyes find the half-apron you’re wearing. You swear his pupils dilate, but he shakes his head before you’re sure.

“I can show you, there’s still a few minutes left for everything.”

The air is biting outside, cold with the evening breeze and dark already. So dark you equip your biggest, brightest flashlight and walk around the house with him, explaining the taps all around.

“I figure it’s them trying to dig holes so they can get in,” you hand the flashlight to him, feeling your fingers brush, and shivering in response. “I’ve been too chicken to check, to be honest. I keep thinking it’s a person walking around, not some animal.”

John nods as you speak, squatting by your little tool shed, looking diligently and moving items as he needs to. Then, he looks up, smiling a little.

“Why don’t you head inside, darling? Let me take care of this.”

“Sure,” you squeak. Squeak. Your stomach makes a knot and you scurry like one of the mice he’s looking for back into the house to mash the potatoes and make the gravy.

You are quite proud of this meal, not a proper cook by a long shot but it looks and smells pretty good. The Yorkshire puddings are alright, too, and that was the hardest part. Plus, you think, it’s free food. He’s gotta be happy with the effort, even if he winds up not liking it, right? That’s something your mother always told you. Someone’s put in a lot of effort for this meal, she’d say, pointing at you with a long nail. Better eat it.

“Think I found the little buggers,” John startles you just a little as he comes in, toeing his boots off again. You’re plating his plate, huge portions of mash potato and roast carrot and brussel sprouts nestled to the beef. His eyes look at the plate, then to you, then down to your apron, and you pretend you can’t see him adjusting his pants.

This isn’t what you think it is, you remind yourself. Two friends, one lending a hand and the other paying them back. You don’t even know his last name.

“Oh god, how bad was it?” You ladle gravy over his portion, then yours, pretending to be unaffected when he walks into your kitchen and takes a huge sniff.

“Not too bad. I’ll have to come back with some traps, if that’s alright.” You want to say John, you can come back anytime, but you don’t.

“Glad to know it was mice at least,” that’s the truth. A feeling you didn’t totally realize you had turns from paranoia into relief. “I was really scared it was some creep walking around my house, trying to get in.”

“Here,” John takes his plate when you hand it to him, but puts his phone into your hands before you can get yours. “Put your number in there, honey. Call me if anything like that happens.”

Honey. You fucking love that, so much it renders you temporarily mute as you punch in your number. He doesn't let you bring your own plate to the table, picks it up while you’re busy and comes back to shepherd you there with a palm on your lower back.

“Thank you,” you say, struck timid by his casual and yet firm guidance of you.

Diva makes an appearance for supper, summoned by the smell of beef and the oven being turned off. Her little claws tip tap against the hardwood as she circles your chair, tucks herself under the table looking for scraps, and whines at John while he’s trying to eat.

You nudge her away from him with a socked foot, stuttering that she isn’t usually like this, honest, only for him to brush it off kindly.

After supper, when you’re full and you can’t handle him looking at you with those half-lidded, well-fed bear eyes anymore, you move to pick up the dishes and bring them to the kitchen.

“Ah ah,” John cuts in front of you, stealing the plates and cutlery. “You cooked, I’ll clean.”

Useless to argue - he’s built like a brick shithouse. You’re forced to pack up the leftovers, one container for you and one for him to take home. For no reason other than you’re feeling especially soft and gooey, you wrap up a few homemade fig and date granola bars for him to take too.

“Thank you,” he gruffs, rolling his sleeves to his elbows, flexing his forearm muscles, making you hot again.

“It’s really the least I can-”

Snap. Fuck, the day that creepy noises don’t happen near your house is the day you convert to whatever religion that’ll make it happen. Both your heads turn to the living room window, where the sound came from, a crack in the otherwise quiet night air.

Anxiety curls in your stomach, sharp and dreadful. You try to remind yourself that you live in the woods for gods sake, there’s gonna be sounds, but that awful sense of danger is back and if you were Diva your hackles would be raised.

John frowns, wiping his hands on a towel. He doesn't seem as phased as you are, probably because he’s not worried over boogeymen haunting the forest like you are, but when he looks back at you and sees your fright he leans in and murmurs that he’ll go take a look.

“It’s okay, it’s probably one of my furry friends,” you try, but he shakes his head, putting a palm on your hip for a brief moment as reassurance and then he’s out the door.

God, you’re so nervous you whip out a bottle of wine, desperate for a little courage. The feeling is so strange, you’re used to feeling safe and cushioned by your home, by the forest. Even your little dog whimpers, tapping her way into the kitchen, rubbing her face on your leg like a cat. She’s a comfort still, something about there being a more nervous person (or animal) that inspires bravery. Still, you won't peek out the window.

The wine is good. A little too dry, but still good. A housewarming gift from your mother, even though she knew you didn’t drink unless it was social.

Or unless you were nervously waiting for some man to come back, having dealt with your problems for you. She’d weep to see you, aproned and wringing your hands and sipping red wine too quickly. Whatever, you think. There’s nothing wrong with letting him help.

John comes back in, maybe a few minutes later or maybe a half hour, you can’t tell. Your wine is half empty, and you feel awkward about it so you pour him one without asking.

“Think you’ve got more than one furry friend,” John says, laughter in his voice. In his fingers he’s got tufts of light brown hair, which he holds up. “Dinner, if you hunt.”

“Ah, I don’t,” and you wouldn’t. You’re fine eating meat or even purchasing it from a local hunter to eat, but there’s something in you that’s deeply uncomfortable with the idea. Maybe it’s cowardice, unable to do the dirty work and yet enjoying the fruits of someone else’s labour. Maybe you’re putting stock in something that really isn’t worth stressing over. Either way, you’re overthinking, and only stop when John steps into your space.

“Hey- you alright, darling?” You like darling too, just as much as honey.

“Yeah, sorry,” your hands find the wine glass you poured for him, and you hand it over. One thing about abstaining is that it hits you quickly, even with the big meal. “Want to sit? I’ve got a fireplace.”

You cringe at yourself, not meaning to sound so suggestive. Oh well, he doesn’t seem to mind, just nods and takes you by the elbow again to your living room.

“This all the heading you’ve got?” John asks.

“Er, no. I have to get my windows insulated for winter, then I can turn the heating on without it all going to waste. For now, I make do with the fireplace,” when you sit, Diva runs to you both and demands to be swaddled in her blanket. It’s an old knitted one, a college project finished between essay assignments and readings. There’s sentimental value there, especially with your pup who doesn’t even let the presence of a strange man come between her and her cozying up.

“I can help with that,” John says. Briefly, Westley pops into your head shouting As you wish! and it makes you smile.

“That’s okay,” you sip, tasting spice. Would’ve been good with dinner. “I owe you double now for helping me again.”

“Not at all, sweetheart.” Oh, he’s full of names - and getting bolder.

The conversation ebbs and flows naturally. Sometimes you both sit in silence, sipping, refilling glasses, staring at the fire. He’s easy to talk to, soothing, his confidence and sureness leaving you relaxed.

“I better get going,” he grunts as he stands, extending a palm to you.

“Are you okay to drive?” You’re half worried, half disappointed. There’s been a steadily building sense of heat between your legs the entire evening, brought on by his touches and his pet names and his taking care of you

“Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. I live close-by.” That’s one mystery solved.

“Well, okay. But will you call when you get home?” If you weren’t three glasses in, you might be embarrassed. John crinkles his eyes at you while he puts his boots on.

“John?” You’re in your pajamas, face hastily cleaned with a makeup wipe. Your door is double locked again, anxiety beaten down by the wine.

“I’m home,” he sounds distant. You can’t really hear anything, just his breathing, the sounds of him taking off his coat and his boots. “You tucked in bed, sweetheart?”

“I am,” you breathe, eyes slipping, drunker than you thought you were. “Did you drive okay?”

“I did,” he laughs. His keys jingle and make a clamor as he tosses them. You imagine him in a house that fits him, a log cabin or a house built by hand, before remembering he’s talking with someone. Disappointment dampens you a little.

“I guess I should let you get to bed then,” you try to keep it out of your voice, but you’re curled on your side with a hand pressed against your clothed pussy and it’s hard not to be sad at the fact that you have no idea if he’s actually been flirting with you, or just being friendly.

“You sound disappointed,” either he’s perceptive, or you’re more obvious than you’re trying to be. “Don’t worry, I won’t leave you without saying goodnight.”

A pulse, between your legs. You rub with all four fingers, moving the phone away from your mouth.

“That’s okay, I don’t want to keep you,” you scrunch your eyes shut, trying to stop, not being able to. You’re starved, really, haven’t been touched or talked to like you’re desirable in quite some time and he makes you feel safe. Taken care of.

“You touching that wet little cunt, sweetheart?” A shockwave, from your nipples tightening to your toes tingling, curling. You stop hiding, breathing whines into the phone.

“I’m so sorry,” you mumble, biting your lips. It feels like permission, and maybe it is or maybe it isn’t, but you stuff your hand into your pants and start focusing on your needy clit. “I’m so-”

“Shh, sh, sh,” you hear a mattress creak, a grunt, and imagine him laying back. Maybe palming his cock. “That’s okay, baby, I could tell how needy you were.”

Panting, you stuff two fingers in your soft hole, grinding your palm into your clit. You hear him making sounds, quieter than you, but you’re straining to hear them.

He starts talking you through it, murmuring into your ear, calling you sweetheart and honey and baby, telling you to put three fingers in and to play with your tits.

“Go ahead and touch your nipples, sweetheart, go on,” his breath is growing laboured. “Needed to come so she could sleep, did she?”

For a moment, you think he’s talking about you.

“Poor little pussy needed some attention,” his voice gets rougher again, like when he walked in and saw that you had made him a roast. “Give it to her then, baby, go on, let her come.”

That’s all you need. You squeeze your nipples one last time, letting your tits out of your shirt and turning over to hump your hand unashamedly. Your clit drags against your palm still, hips desperately moving, listening to him grunting and groaning on the other side of the call, waiting to hear him come before you let go.

You shake, shiver, curl into yourself as your core tightens and explodes like an elastic band snapping. It’s great, just what you needed, and you’re half asleep by the end of it

“John..” you mumble into your pillow, just enough consciousness left to pull your hand out of your pajama pants.

“It’s alright, it’s time to sleep now, alright? Close your eyes.”

“Alright, John.”

“Good girl,” his voice is distant, sleep taking you, muscles more relaxed than they’ve been in so long.

You’ll deal with the rest in the morning.

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hunkpossession0 · 7 months ago

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Stealing my former high school bully’s body was so easyyy. Look, now I am hot, and the best part is that I’m gay.

I leaned back in the plush leather seat of his—no, my—new car, savoring the feeling of power. God, I’d waited so long for this. All those years of torment, the sneers, the shoves into lockers, the homophobic slurs... they were all a distant memory now, fading away like smoke. The only thing that mattered was this body I was now inhabiting, perfectly sculpted and oozing confidence.

I smirked at the reflection in the rearview mirror. His—my—strong jawline, the chiseled features that had made everyone swoon, and those piercing blue eyes that used to look down on me with contempt were now mine to control. And control them I would.

The plan had come to me after a particularly rough night, one too many drinks mixed with the lingering bitterness of my high school years. I’d always been obsessed with the idea of revenge, but not the kind that left scars. I wanted something deeper, more satisfying. I wanted to become him. To live the life he’d never appreciated and do it better.

It wasn’t hard to find a spell. You’d be surprised at how many dark corners of the internet are devoted to body swapping. A few emails, a payment sent in crypto, and a strange-looking amulet later, I was ready. The ritual was simple enough—though it took a lot of concentration. But the moment I slipped it around his neck while he slept, it was over in seconds. I woke up in his bed, in his skin, and he… well, I don’t know where he is now. I like to imagine he’s trapped somewhere, conscious of what’s happening but completely powerless.

The first thing I did was check myself out in the mirror—really take in everything I’d just acquired. This body wasn’t just hot; it was perfect. Years of disciplined workouts, clean eating, and who knows what else had transformed him into someone who looked like they walked straight off a magazine cover.

Actually, make that literally off a magazine cover. I found a stack of fashion magazines under his bed with his stupidly gorgeous face plastered on them. He’d somehow turned his pretty-boy looks and gym rat habits into a full-fledged modeling career. I guess that explained the ridiculous number of selfies on his phone, each one showing off a different outfit or a perfectly timed flex in front of the mirror.

So yeah, I wasn’t giving up the gym. If anything, I was leaning into it. It’s not like I had to do much to maintain this body—he’d already done the hard work, and now I was reaping the benefits. I still hit the gym daily, if only to flex for the mirrors and admire my reflection. The attention I get now is incredible, and the best part is, I can be shameless about it.

Of course, I couldn’t wait to see what Grindr was like from this side of things. Installing the app was the first thing I did once I figured out the password to his phone. The moment I uploaded a shirtless pic, the notifications started rolling in—an endless stream of thirsty messages. Guys were practically lining up for a chance with me, throwing compliments, and I have to admit, I loved every second of it.

I’d spend hours swiping through profiles, chatting up whoever caught my eye. The way people reacted to me now was night and day compared to before. No more awkward small talk, no more second-guessing myself. I could tell someone to meet me at the gym just to watch me lift, and they’d show up without hesitation.

And the best part? I’ve started getting more gigs, just from a few posts on social media showing off his—no, my—body. Modeling agencies are all about that lean muscle, those killer cheekbones, that smirk that could melt anyone on the other end of the camera. He’d never really appreciated what he had, but I’m about to take this career to the next level. I’ve already got a photoshoot lined up for some luxury brand—an easy way to rake in the cash while showing off.

His—my—Instagram is blowing up too. I’m always in the gym, flexing and posting thirst traps for the masses. The likes pour in, and the comments? They’re pure gold. People are practically worshipping me, and I’ve only just begun. This body was wasted on him, but now that it’s mine, I’m going to enjoy every moment of it.

Every time I flex, every time I see a new message pop up on Grindr, it’s a reminder of just how sweet this revenge is. Not only did I take his body, but I’m living his life better than he ever could. I’m hotter, more confident, and finally free to be myself in the best possible way.

This is just the beginning.

#body switch #dick bulge #alpha jock #gay men #hunky guy #muscular #jock bulge #body suit #body swap #sexy hunk

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yellowpsyduck · 1 year ago

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𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐛𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐜𝐤

𝐈𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐛𝐲 𝐚 𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐧𝐨 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬.

Thomas Shelby x Carleton!Reader Warnings: Smut, slight size kink, Tommy attracting posh girls as always

“Are you fucking my sister-in-law?” were the very first words that came out of the young socialite’s mouth. They were directed to the man dressed in the grey suit with the flat cap, as he caressed the grey filly in front of him.

“Such crude words from such a lovely young lass, eh?” the man looked rather amused at her choice of words, much less, her more than direct approach of interrogating him.

The words she’d spoken weren’t quite what he had expected from a girl of her caliber, she seemed far too proper to opt for such language.

But she held her ground that girl, with her fashionably short bob and her velvet dress that would probably fetch enough pounds to feed a small family for a week in Small Heath. She didn’t waver under his icy stare, nor did she retreat her questioning glare. In fact, to his surprise, she arched her carefully sculpted eyebrow, as though prompting him to explain himself.

She must be a London girl, he noted, such brazenness could only mean that she must've lived a sheltered life, never having to put her guards up in fear of gangsters and certainly never having to do anything with filthy old Birmingham.

No, all she had to do was look pretty and polite and pop open bottles of champagne, dancing the night away to the Foxtrot and Charleston. She didn’t have a clue who he was, didn’t have a clue what he did and certainly didn’t have a clue as to why he always kept a Webley MK VI in his gun strap.

Tommy found it quite refreshing. He couldn’t remember the last time someone talked to him so incredibly audaciously, if it wasn’t to barrage him with threats to his life.

“I believed I asked you first, Mister” came the reply from her tinted red lips, looking rather displeased that her question was met with another.

“Well, a lady like you shouldn’t worry about adult matters.” he replied as he fished his pockets for the metal cigarette case. “Anyways, she's your sister-in-law you say?” he offered her a cigarette, a habit of his which he’d developed from constantly being surrounded by chain smokers.

“She is, or she was.” she took him up on his offer, as he lit it up for her, “Ian was my brother. His passing was hard on all of us; for her more than anyone else. So, I come up here any chance I get to keep her company, but now I see that’s no longer needed of me.” she said as she eyed him from head to toe, sizing him up almost.

“Don’t let me be a bone of contention now.” he replied, his couldn’t possibly add another trouble to his list, the Epsom and Major Campbell were already a handful, to say the very least.

“Actually, it’s quite the opposite.” A hint of surprise glazed over his eyes as he looked at her delicate features. “I’m quite relieved she isn’t shutting herself up." she trailed off, "And you’re certainly not the worst pick for a suitor.”

“Now don’t go sizing me up for a wedding suit, Miss.” he said taking another drag of his cigarette “May and I are just.... acquaintances. She’s training my horse for the Derby, this beauty over here, you see.” he motioned to the grey horse behind him.

“Oh.” She looked at him with an abashed humour in her eyes. “Then you must pardon my poor choice of words. I’m sure you won’t take the silly musings of a girl to heart.”

She flicked the cigarette bud to the ground, stomping it lightly with the heel of her dainty Mary Janes.

“I’m Y/N. Y/N Vera Carleton.” she extended her hand to him, her lips adorned with the most dazzling smile he’d ever seen in his entire existence. He took her hands in his, their sizes differing starkly. “I’m Thomas. Thomas Shelby.”

“Well then Mr. Shelby, now that the previous fiasco is behind us, I must be off. My friends will be waiting for me, I’m afraid. There's a new club in the city called the Babylon, you might’ve heard of it, they’ve invited this jazz band from the Colonies. My friends say it’s all the rage these days.” she explained to him.

Thomas knew she was one of those girls. The ones that never had to worry about a thing in their lives, except for what they’d wear to a social dinner or what diamonds to pair with what dress and he knew that a part of him wished he could be as carefree as them. But life had other plans for him, a runaway father, a suicidal mother and a fucking war to top it all off.

But now with the Shelby Company Ltd. and his copious side ventures, he hoped that one day, his children, if he ever found a woman that is, would have a life that mirrored that of the captivating girl in front of him.

“All right then, Miss Carleton, you have a good night now.” he bid the girl farewell as he watched her leave the stables. Her dress swaying with every step she took, she looked very frail, he noted, but not the kind that you’d see in the streets of Watery Lane, more so the kind of frail that was in vogue amongst the ladies of London.

As the night progressed, it became abundantly clear that May Fitz Carleton and Thomas Shelby weren’t just acquaintances, although, that should’ve been clear from the moment he accepted her proposal to stay the night in the manor, more like a fucking castle, he thought.

As night fell, Thomas found himself striding to the doors of his gracious host's, she’d left it unlocked, of course. Neither were novice adolescents; they knew what they wanted, and they certainly weren’t abashed about it. Their business was completed rather quickly though, she seemed unable to fully open her heart out to the deed and he had a myriad of thoughts occupying his mind.

Breakfast was a rather lovely affair. May chose not to bring up their late night discretions, for which he was rather thankful for. In fact, she seemed content with it being a passing liaison, finally someone that’s on the same page as him, he mused.

The lavish spread of food in front of him was overwhelming and he resigned himself to an Earl Grey and a toast. It seemed it was just May that occupied the house, seeing as though they were the only two to grace the table. Their conversations were pleasant, ranging from their shared love for horses to the ones they would be up against at the Derby, when lo and behold, the doors to the room sprung open to reveal a particularly chirpy Y/N, what she would be so cheery for, this early in the morning, he didn’t know.

“Morning, my dearest. Hope you had a lovely night.” The older of the two woman remarked as she kissed her cheeks. “I’ve told Louisa to prepare those Vienna rolls you so love. She should bring it out any minute.” she stated as the maids served the new occupant with a steaming cup of tea.

“That would be lovely, God knows I’m terribly famished.” she strutted into the room, smelling of daisies as she walked past him and kissed her sister-in-law. “Morning to you, my dearest Mayflower.”

She took the seat opposite to his, paying him no mind and absentmindedly blowing into her tea. “Y/N darling, this is Mr. Thomas Shelby, he’s my guest. I'm training his horse for Epsom. " She motioned to the gentleman. "Tommy, this is Y/N, she’s Ian’s sister and the youngest of the Carleton bunch.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Shelby.” quipped the younger girl, pretending as though they were truly meeting for the first time.

“The pleasure’s all mine.” Tommy went along with her play, opting not to reveal their meeting the previous day.

“Madam, there’s a telephone for you. It's from Sir Ascot.” May was quickly ushered out of the room to attend to her business, leaving the unusual pair together.

“So, are you going to keep staring or will you tell me what’s on your mind?” Y/N remarked as she forfeited the staring game they’d had going on.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.” the girl in front of him was intriguing for sure, and she wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. Tommy didn’t know other women besides Ada and Polly that would speak so nonchalantly with him, and he found himself quite enjoying this refreshing exchange.

“Well, you’ve basically been undressing me with your eyes, since yesterday. So, shall we do it in my room or yours?”

This. Tommy wasn’t expecting.

He'd expected a whole lot of other things but not this.

The girl didn’t bat an eye as she said those words, simply sipping on her tea, as though they’d only exchanged pleasantries with each other. Tommy was about to respond when a maid brought a plate of Vienna rolls to the table and diligently served her young Miss.

As soon as her departing figure left the room, Y/N’s eyes darted back up to his, sucking slowly on the gold cutlery as she did. She seemed to be waiting for his reply and Tommy wondered how she’d react if he told her 'No'. Surely, such a girl as lovely as her wouldn’t be used to hearing those words of refusal. All she’d have to do was bat her pretty lashes, pout her soft lips and no one would dare refuse such a divine creature.

And Tommy was by no means a saint. A posh girl like her asking him to fuck her wasn’t something that happened on the daily. And again, Tommy might be a man with great restraint, but he was a man after all.

He'd be lying if he said his pants hadn’t gotten the slightest bit tighter at the sight of her sucking and licking on the spoon, that when he was balls deep inside May the previous night, all he thought about was the girl in front of him. Even now, as she sat in front of him, in her lace dress, he could see the slightest imprint of her breasts against the fabric of the dress.

Tommy took in a deep breath, setting the teacup back on the porcelain saucer, when finally, he muttered “You don’t know who I am, do you, little girl?” For if she did, she wouldn’t have uttered those words, much less, even sip her tea so peacefully in his presence.

“Should I care?” she asked in mock concern, “All I know is that you’re a well dressed gentleman that’s got a nice deep voice.” Truly, that was all she looked for. If a man had a deep enough pocket and an ever deeper voice, she’d go weak in the knees, and she knew May wouldn’t associate herself with a man that didn’t have the former.

“Y/N Carleton, you’re truly a work of art, eh?” he chuckled, genuinely in awe of her intrepidity.

“Well, that amongst other things.” came her quick reply, flashing him a cheeky smile.

“Do you think she’ll notice? If were both absent from the table, that is.” he asked in reference to May, she sure as hell wouldn’t appreciate his advances towards her sister-in-law.

“Don’t you worry, Sir Ascot is a hard fellow to deal with, he’ll talk her ear off for hours.” she stated unconcerned as she took strode out of the room, glancing back at him.

“In fact, forget about the bedroom, there's a storeroom over there that’s unfrequented. God knows your staring is making me wild as it is.” She turned and left the room, the gentle sway of her hips beckoning him to follow her. And follow he did.

Thomas fucking Shelby following after a girl, his brothers would’ve had a field day had they learnt of it.

But he didn’t care. All he knew was that he wanted her.

He wanted to fuck her till she screamed his name.

He wanted to fuck her till she couldn’t walk.

He wanted to fuck her till she was a crying mess.

The storeroom was quite spacious, like most of the rooms of this manor. But he wasn’t here to admire this. No. He came here for her. As soon as the latch to the door was shut closed, their lips crashed together.

Oh! He could have had her then and there, her lips were so incredibly soft and moulded with his so fucking perfectly. Her hands found themselves in his hair and she tugged lightly, making him crazy at her touch, while his hands kneaded her supple buttocks. She might’ve been slim, but she was certainly well endowed in just the right areas.

She soon broke the kiss and quickly worked to unbutton her dress, looking at him as he did, and that smile. That fucking smile of hers. Thomas didn’t know anyone more lovely than her.

She stripped down to her chemise, her garter bands visible underneath. He couldn’t control himself at the sight of her lovely frame. His hands soon brought the straps of her flimsy cover down, exposing her delicate brassiere which was also discarded on the floor.

She looked glorious standing in front of him, in just her garter bands and stockings. He would fuck her with those on he decided. The sight of her thighs in those were making the tent in his pants so painfully obvious.

She undid his suspenders, kneeling down as she pulled his trousers down, freeing his throbbing red cock from it’s tight restraints. She blushed a little at the obscene sight, sure she’d seen her fair share of cocks, but none as majestic as his. Tommy Shelby had drawn him to her because of his deep voice, but his huge cock, now that was a brilliant surprise. The London chaps she’d been with just couldn’t compare.

She licked the precum that was dripping from his tip, making him shudder in anticipation and little by little she licked the length of his entire shaft, making sure to drag her tongue along every crevice. She held her cock in both hands, it’s sheer size making her marvel. As Tommy looked down, the sight below him was eliciting a dark reaction inside of him, her little dainty fingers wrapped around his manhood. God! She looked so very small.

She sucked his cock, trying her best to take in as much as she could. She was diligent, for sure, doing her best to make him happy, taking small breaths, accommodating her throat for his dick and working her hands constantly along his shaft or his balls.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” he breathed out raspily. She was an angel.

An angel sent just to fuck him. He didn’t know any woman or whore that was doing the things she was. But here she was, a little thing like her milking his cock like a good girl.

He grabbed her hair, lightly bucking his hips inside of her mouth. She seemed to be suffocating almost, his big dick choking her. Almost.

“Just like that baby, just like that.”

Fuck! She was such a good girl, holding her cries till he released his load inside of her mouth. “Swallow.” he commanded. She was a glorious mess, doing as he commanded her.

Her eyes were watery, and her mouth was thoroughly abused, but she still looked at him with devotion laced in her beautiful eyes.

He lifted her off the ground and laid her on the table like surface. He spread her legs wide open with his hands and marveled at the sight. Her throbbing cunt, glistening in arousal looked so warm, so inviting. He kissed her on the lips once more and dove in to eat her out, but a small hand covered the entrance.

“She might be done soon, so, please just fuck me.” she cried, so obviously starved for him.

He wasted no time and rubbed her clit, making sure her entrance was slick enough, and she was, so incredibly wet for him. He lined his dick to the entrance of her pussy and thrusted lightly. Just the tip he moaned. Just the tip and she was already on the verge of tears.

“Just breathe, love. Just breathe for me, eh?” he cooed in her ear as his hips thrusted in small motions to enter her tight cave, rubbing her clit as he did. And then with a final thrust he entered her pussy.

God! She felt so good. Her tight walls caved around his cock, stimulating him in ways he didn’t think possible. His motions became faster as her cries became louder.

“Tommy!” she moaned over and over again, seemingly unable to formulate any coherent sentences, her brain clogged with the intense pleasure of his cock ramming into her.

“You fit me so well, Y/N. I’m never letting go of you or your tight fucking pussy after this.” he moaned in her ear.

The constant slapping of skin and unbridled moans didn’t leave much to the imagination of the maids and butlers that might’ve overheard, but they didn’t care. All they knew was that they were nearing their release and it just felt so fucking good.

“Tommy, I’m close.” she managed to stumble out the words.

“Wait for me, love. You’re gonna cum when I tell you to.” he groaned as he fastened his pace, evidently nearing his release.

And with a final thrust, he whispered in her ear and they let go. They were quite the pair to look at. Him, with his trousers on the floor, his hands gripping onto her waists and his eyes never leaving hers and she, with her damn naked body, her tear streaked cheeks and her smudged lipstick.

Tommy gave her a sweet kiss to her forehead and wrapped his arms around her naked body as they remained in the warm embrace. Their heartbeats were gradually returning to usual, and their panted breathing became steadier.

He retrieved a handkerchief from his pockets and delicately cleaned her sore entrance. The evidence of their lovemaking spilled lewdly on the floor; it was to be someone else’s problem, not theirs. He slipped the stained handkerchief into his pockets and helped her dress. She seemed incredibly satiated as she stared at him with sheer fondness in her eyes.

Tommy knew that he couldn’t let go of her now. Not after this.

She was his, even if she didn’t know it yet.

“We best get going now, love.” he told her as he waited for her to gather herself together.

“Wait, silly, you’ve got lipstick on your nose.” she giggled as she rubbed the scarlet red lipstick off for him, standing on the tip of her toes.

She moved to open the door, but her steps felt awkward. He chuckled at her attempt to walk and offered his hand so she may lean on him. The walk back to the table was interesting, with her uncharacteristic gait and lipstick that seemed to have been smudged clean, and his hair that had been slightly disheveled and lips that held the faintest smile.

Both looked nothing like they had a few moments prior. If the maids noticed the obvious change, they didn’t comment on it as they dutifully carried out their tasks, making the most possible effort to not offend the pair as they walked through the halls.

May arrived a few minutes later rambling about how much she would’ve loved to cut the call halfway, had Sir Ascot not been an influential member of the Board. She had been so engrossed in her rant that perhaps, she didn’t notice the obvious change in the mood.

She also didn’t notice the fact that Thomas Shelby’s eyes never once left her sister-in-law who insouciantly continued drinking her tea that was far too cold by now.

“Well, May, my stay here has been lovely, but I best get going now.” he uttered at last, the business back at home didn’t wait for no one, especially not for him to fuck posh girls.

“Indeed, I assume you must have your work cut out for you and oh! I forgot to tell you this morning that I’ve had your car stocked up with engine oil, so, it’ll be a smooth ride home.”

“Thank you for that, May.” he put on his coat and thanked her for her gracious hosting.

“Tommy.” she called out as he stepped into his vehicle. “Will I see you again?”

“I’m sure we’ll cross paths again, Miss Carleton.”

Miss not Mrs. because his eyes, as he spoke those words weren’t on the woman in front of him, but rather they were on the girl that stood at the doorway, a mischievous smile dancing on her lips.

Ah! That smile.

The drive home was brisk, his mind occupied with the image of her and that darn smile. He may have been back in Birmingham, but he knew that apart of his mind had been left behind with a particularly charming girl in the Carleton Estate.

#tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby fanfic #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby x y/n #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders imagine #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy fanfiction

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buckymorelikefuckme · 11 months ago

Text

a helping hand

jake jensen x fem reader

words: 3.7k

warnings: **18+ ONLY** friends to lovers, handjob, fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex (don't do that), jake has a big dick, my lame attempts at humor. please let me know if i missed anything!

a/n: SURPRISE!! this is honestly so silly. and filthy. i wrote it in a frenzy last night after the idea randomly came to me. keep in mind it's all based off the vague info i have about him. i probably took a lot of liberties. it wasn't planned for my first jakey fic to be this, but oh well lmao! any and all mistakes are my own. feedback is encouraged and greatly appreciated :) xo

❀ part two

With an exaggerated, put-upon sigh, you gesture vaguely at Jake to stand and say, “Alright, let me see it.”

“What?” Jake asks, brows furrowed so deeply you worry he’ll get a migraine.

“You’re being awfully dramatic about this, so I need to see what all the fuss is about,” you calmly explain, though still skeptical.

Jake had showed up at your apartment with a look of pure despair, ranting about how yet another hookup went south when they took their clothes off and his would-be partner saw his cock for the first time. Said they almost begged him to leave and take his monster with him.

Surely his dick can’t be that big, right?

Jake hesitates, watching you warily as he contemplates, but then he sighs heavily and he rises to his feet, grumbling as he unbuttons and lowers the zip on his jeans. His thumbs curl under the waistband of both the jeans and his underwear before he unceremoniously shoves them down to mid-thigh. And then there’s only silence that follows.

You blink. You stare. You blink again.

Jake shifts his weight on his feet, settling his hands on his hips awkwardly.

Finally, you find your voice.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you wheeze, your voice tight and airy as you struggle to remember how to inhale.

Jake groans, covering his face mournfully. “I told you!” he wails. “It’s too big! And I know, I know—boohoo woe is me I have a big dick—but listen, this is literally a big fucking problem. I’m going crazy here. It’s just not the same with only my hands!”

Probably because not even both of your hands can cover your gigantic fucking penis, you think to yourself, but thankfully, do not say aloud. And, alright, maybe you’re exaggerating just a little, but Jake is still easily the biggest you’ve ever seen. Like, leaps and bounds bigger. The length of it isn't overly scary or anything, it's just… thick, and veiny, has the slightest curve to it.

And the thing is, you really shouldn’t be so surprised. In general, Jake himself is… big. He’s tall, and broad, and his hands are works of fucking art with his long fingers and wide palms, and his thighs—Jesus, fuck, his thighs. They deserve sonnets alone, just for how sculpted and muscled they are. Even Jake’s pecs are big. And you’re normally not a tit person, but Jake’s? You’ve cupped and squeezed and fondled them probably too many times to be appropriate.

The point is, though, that Jake is fucking hot. You have always thought so, in an offhand kind of way, like, a passing observation. Jake is also sweet and attentive, always periodically checking in on each person in his friend group, always willing to offer advice or a listening ear. He’s incredibly smart while also endearingly dumb about so much. He never asks for help with anything because he doesn’t want to be a burden, no matter how many times he’s told he could never be. So you’re pretty sure that Jake has used up all of his courage and vulnerability by coming to you with his problem. And you are flummoxed as to why he chose you, but you will not let this opportunity pass you by.

“Jake,” you start after a slight pause, “I have lube, patience, and willpower.”

And Jake says, “Huh?”

Which is fair, to be honest.

“Can you, um, put your dick away so I can think properly?” you ask after delicately clearing your throat.

Jake flushes and hastily obeys before taking his spot on the couch again.

You shift to face him fully, taking in his pink cheeks and inability to meet your gaze, and you feel bad for being so blunt, for speaking before thinking.

“Sorry,” you apologize, “I just wasn't… You know.” You wave your hand around in a way that you hope says, I wasn't expecting you to have the most perfect cock I've ever seen, when your mind blanks on how to continue.

Then again, maybe it's a good thing you couldn't figure out a way to say that verbally.

You clear your throat again. “What I was trying to say is that, um, maybe I could help you?”

Jake tilts his head. “Help me?” he repeats.

“Yeah, you know, like,” you say, licking your lips, “I could lend a hand. So to speak.”

It only takes a split second for him to understand what you're saying. His eyes widen, round like saucers behind his glasses, ears now burning a bright red as he sputters.

“What? You're offering to—no, that's. No, you're not—this isn't what I—fuck, I think I’m gonna pass out,” he stammers breathlessly, and honestly, he is starting to look a bit lightheaded. He shakes himself, closing his eyes, then takes in a deep breath and releases it slowly.

You quietly wait for him to gather himself, almost wishing you hadn't said anything. Almost, but not really, not enough to try to take it back.

Finally, he blinks his eyes open and turns to you. “I didn't come here expecting you to–to help me with my… problem.”

“Jakey,” you say on an exhale, smiling. “I know that. I offered because I wanted to.”

“But why?” he questions, bewildered.

You purse your lips, glancing up at the ceiling as you think about your response carefully this time. “Because you're one of my best friends, and you're hurting, in a way. I know it's not like, the worst thing in the world to just get off with your own hands, but I feel like getting shot down at the last minute every time you go to have sex can't be good for you mentally, either.”

Jake shifts his gaze to his lap then, mouth twisting into something disappointed, and that just confirms what you've said. He's started taking this to heart, beating himself up over something entirely out of his control. Sure, you wanna get your hands, mouth, and everything else on his dick, but a guy like Jake deserves to be brought to orgasm by someone else.

“Think of it as a favor,” you try, quietly, nudging his arm.

Swallowing roughly, he meets your eyes, searching. “Are you sure?” he asks after a long pause.

You reach out and grab his hand, twining your fingers with his. “I’m sure.” When he still hesitates, you squeeze his hand lightly. “You can say no, Jake.”

“No.” You start to pull away, and then he shakes his head quickly, holding on to you tighter. “No, I mean—I don't want to say no. I'm just. I'm a little nervous.”

His confession breaks your heart a little more. On the surface, this problem isn't all that serious, but underneath it all, Jake is craving connection. You’ll make sure he leaves your apartment more than satisfied.

“If at any point, for any reason, you want to stop then we’ll stop,” you promise.

He finally smiles, small and lopsided, and nods in agreement. You stand up, tugging him to rise with you and struggling to lift all that muscle mass.

“Come on,” you instruct, “let's go to my bedroom. We’ll have more space there.”

Silently, he follows you to your room, palm clammy against yours. The sun is shining through your windows, beams landing directly on your bed like some kind of spotlight. You let go of Jake’s hand to quickly shove your comforter to the foot of your bed then climb onto it.

“C’mere,” you murmur when you see him hovering unsurely beside the bed, patting the space between your legs.

First, Jake makes quick work of the button and zip on his jeans, before knee-walking to where you indicated. You both settle on the mattress, your back to the headboard and Jake getting comfortable against your chest and into the cradle of your spread thighs. The position really highlights your size difference, almost comically, and you have to swallow down all the things you want to say or sounds that threaten to escape.

Jake already has his jeans back down around his knees and quickly wiggles his underwear down to get his dick out. He’s jittery, his movements stilted and awkward, like he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself.

“Relax, Jakey,” you softly instruct, reaching up to squeeze at his shoulders comfortingly. “It’s just me. I’m here to help, okay?”

“Right,” Jake replies on an exhale, nodding, “okay. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Your lips quirk slightly. “Good. I’m gonna touch you now, alright?”

“Okay,” Jake murmurs.

You hear him swallow, see his fists clench and unclench where they’re resting beside his thighs. Tentatively, as if not to startle him, you move your hands to Jake’s hips, petting over the exposed skin there. You hear Jake’s breath hitch then, so you keep going. You trail your fingers down the tops of Jake’s thighs, into the crease where they meet his groin and back up, just a touch higher than before, and you repeat the motion a few times until you’ve worked the hem of Jake’s shirt up to give you better access to his torso.

Slowly, Jake sinks further and further into your embrace, getting heavier and heavier the more you touch him. You are quietly loving the weight of him, the way his head is starting to loll and his eyelids beginning to flutter. You watch Jake bite his lip when you finally tease closer to his hardening cock, running your fingernails lightly across the trimmed hair above it.

You raise one of your hands, palm up, with a soft, “Jake,” as instruction.

He blinks down at your hand for a second, dazed, and then he’s carefully holding your hand and bringing it up to press a surprisingly gentle kiss to your palm. You feel your face grow hot as you hide your smile in Jake’s shoulder, though you’re positive he can feel it anyway.

“Jakey,” you say again, painfully endeared, “I meant for you to, you know, get my hand wet.”

“Oh.” He huffs a little at himself, but he doesn’t hesitate to bring your hand back up to his mouth and drag his tongue across your open palm.

Now it’s your turn for your breath to catch in your throat, locking every part of your body so you don't make any sudden movements or do something stupid. That gets more difficult to avoid when Jake, after thoroughly licking all over your hand, tops it all off by gathering the remaining saliva in his mouth, makes you cup your hand and then spits into it. For a split second, you think you’re about to come, which would be mortifying, so you’re glad when you’re able to reign in your hormones and offer a small thank you so you can get back to the task at hand. Literally.

You bite the inside of your cheek as you finally allow yourself to look over Jake’s shoulder, and honestly, you could weep at the sight before you. Jake’s cock is fully hard now, lying against his toned stomach, looking more intimidating than ever. Somehow his cock seems bigger, and thicker too. Your mouth waters, but you tell yourself to focus.

With your dry hand, you lift Jake’s cock, holding him at the base while you bring your other hand down to curl around the head. Jake gasps lightly, but otherwise stays still and quiet, at least until you begin stroking him. Slow and steady, you drag your hand down to the base of Jake’s cock, then add a little more pressure on the upstroke. Jake makes a punched out kind of sound, his knees jerking up slightly before settling back in place. A thrill rushes through you, powerful and giddy at the thought of Jake being at your mercy, of being the one to pull out even these tiny reactions. It makes you want to see just how loud you can make him. For now, though, you continue your steady pace, feeling more than hearing Jake’s sigh when you use your free hand to start touching him everywhere you can reach again.

What’s dangerous about this is that you could get used to it. You’re pretty sure you already are, and that could spell disaster for you, because you’re just supposed to be helping him out. This is only supposed to be offering Jake some relief after being unable to get off with a partner, to give him pleasure that isn’t by his own hands. You press your lips together and speed up your stroking, just a smidge, squeeze a bit more around the head and dig your thumb into Jake’s slit.

“Oh,” he utters, head falling back to rest on your shoulder, eyes closed tight and hips twitching up into your touch, chasing the feeling.

“Does it feel good, Jakey?” you boldly ask.

Jake nods and hums. “So good,” he affirms. He moves his hands to grip your knees as he adds, “Being so good to me, sweetheart.”

And, well. Fuck. You've been trying to pretend your pussy isn't wetter than it's been in a long while, but his words have you wishing you could close your thighs for some much needed friction. Subtly, you try to shift your hips and all it does is make you more frustrated. You let out a huff, breath fanning out against Jake’s neck. He shivers against you and you pause. Your lack of movement makes him whine, low and pleading, and it jolts you back into action.

Dragging your gaze down the line of his throat only makes you want to put your mouth on it, see if you can get him to shiver again. You peek at his face and see his eyes are still closed. Softly, so soft, you lean in and press a kiss to the side of his neck, and the way he responds is beautiful.

He whimpers, tilts his head back further to give you more room, his hips bucking up into your hold as you continue stroking him at a rhythmic pace. And you really can't say no to that kind of invitation. So, sufficiently sure that he doesn't mind it, you press even more kisses into his skin, trailing them up and down his neck and shoulder, as far as you can reach. The kisses turn wet, your tongue flicking out to taste him. Jake’s stomach muscles clench, and you quicken the pace of your hand up a bit, mouthing sloppily up his neck to his ear.

“Don't know how anyone could refuse you,” you mutter, your own breathing getting heavier to match his. “How can anyone look at your cock and not want to sit on it, Jakey? It doesn't make sense.”

He groans, planting his feet on the mattress so he has better leverage to thrust up into your fist, panting and letting out needy sounds.

“God, Jake,” you whine. You suck and bite a mark on his throat, pulling away once you're happy with it. “I bet you would feel perfect inside me,” you confess in a whisper.

“Stop,” he pants, and you let go of him in an instant, stomach dropping.

Before you can start to panic too much, Jake clumsily shifts around until he's on his haunches facing you, flushed all the way down his chest, eyes blazing behind his frames. You open your mouth to ask him what's wrong, but then he's gripping you under your knees and yanking. You fall flat on your back with a startled yelp and Jake is there to swallow the sound, kissing you like it's his lifeline. A moan rips its way out of your chest, arms coming up to wrap around his shoulders and pull him closer to you.

He breaks the kiss, glasses askew, to ask, “Can I please fuck you?”

Any other time you'd snort at the politeness of such a vulgar question, but at the moment all you can do is nod, roughly tugging at his shirt until he gets the hint and removes it, almost knocking his glasses off entirely. It lands somewhere on the floor, along with his jeans and underwear a second later. You squirm once you see his body fully naked, core throbbing in need to have it against you, on top of you.

“You too,” he murmurs, reaching for your shorts.

You lift your hips to help him, biting your lip at the way he curses when he realizes you aren’t wearing panties. With a grin, you surprise him further by taking off your t-shirt and reveal you're also not wearing a bra.

“Would it totally ruin the moment if I say I’ve wanted this for way too long?” he wonders, eyes raking over your body, his hands joining soon after.

You smile softly and shake your head. “Not at all.” He returns your smile, but yours eases into something mischievous. “But what will ruin the moment is if you don't get your fingers in me to get me ready for your big cock.”

Jake’s smile drops. “Fuck,” he says with feeling.

To incentivize him, you spread your legs, hand tracing a path down to where you're dripping. He watches with blown pupils and a slack jaw. When you hum as your fingers lightly glide down your slit, he snaps into focus. He knocks your hand away to replace it with his own. You sigh at the touch of his calluses on your sensitive skin, tilting your hips up and moaning when he finally sinks one finger inside you.

Thankfully, he doesn't seem to want to waste time, thrusting his finger steadily. You've never appreciated how long his fingers are more than you are at this very moment. He works you up to three of them much too fast for your liking, but you understand the urgency he’s feeling, and you can't really deny that you're feeling it too.

“That's good, Jake, c’mon, please get in me already,” you beg, shifting restlessly.

“Shit,” he breathes, “okay, yeah, let me just—”

He shuffles closer, taking his cock in hand and rubbing it up and down your slit, the head catching on your opening, making you whine. He curses under his breath some more and starts pushing in. Your mouth drops open, but no sound comes out, brows furrowing deeply as he splits you open on his cock. When he bottoms out, you let out a sharp exhale that hitches in your chest, while Jake’s chest is heaving like he's run a marathon.

“So tight,” he mutters.

“So—” You hiccup through a desperate sob. “So big, oh my god, Jakey, baby, please move, I need you to move.”

His chin drops to his chest with a pained sounding groan, but he listens. He draws his hips back, cock dragging deliciously out of you, before he thrusts back in. You're not sure you've stopped making noise since he started pulling out, high and needy and hungry pleas for more, and he's barely even gotten started.

Every sensation feels dialed up to a million. You're not sure sex has ever been like this for you; like your skin is on fire, like you can feel your pulse throb through every limb, through every single finger and toe, but especially in your clit. Your nipples even feel more sensitive than usual as they brush against his chest. Your body is positively singing with pleasure.

And Jake… Oh, that sweet, precious man is in heaven. You know you're tight around him, warm and wet, the perfect place to fuck into, and now that he's finally getting what he's wanted he's not holding back. He's fucking you like he’s gonna be graded on it after. His hips slam into yours and he can't stop making noises of his own. Grunts, soft gasps, neverending praise over how you feel, how he's so happy this is happening, how he's never going to stop fucking you.

Your nails dig into the flesh on his back, dragging all the way down until you flatten your palms on his ass and squeeze. His thrusting falters for a second, but he finds his rhythm again quickly, dropping to his elbows so that he's even closer. He kisses along your collarbones, nipping at the base of your throat before sucking at the spot harshly. You moan brokenly and clutch at him tighter.

“Left my mark on you, too,” he declares, kissing the bruise he’s made, then kisses you properly, tongue sliding across yours and dipping into your mouth.

You're not sure how much longer you can hold back from touching your clit, your need ratcheting higher and higher, but you know Jake is right there with you. He's pounding into you roughly now, chasing his climax with determination. Reaching down, you swipe your fingers through your slick and use it to rub your clit, a whimper escaping you when you tighten around him from the added stimulation. Jake growls and speeds up some, hitching one of your legs up his side. It changes the angle just enough that he's hitting that spot inside you that has you crying out, a long warble of his name, fingers quickening their pace on your clit.

“Yeah, that's it,” he encourages. “Please, come for me. Come on, baby, let me see it, wanna watch you fall apart.”

All of your breath gets trapped in your lungs as warmth pools in your core and bursts outward, your pussy fluttering and clamping down on his cock. Your body shivers through your climax, thighs trembling unceasingly as Jake groans and fucks you harder, three, four more times before stilling. He comes with a loud moan, grinding inside you as he rides it out.

After a moment, he collapses on top of you. You grunt at his weight, but smile tiredly at your ceiling, combing your fingers through his hair. You feel him press a kiss on your shoulder.

“Thank you,” he mumbles.

That makes you giggle, which in turn makes you clench and has Jake whining since he's still buried inside you. Gingerly, he pulls out, both of you hissing at the sensation. He runs a tender finger along the outside of your opening.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks, concerned.

“No, baby,” you whisper.

He meets your gaze then, hopeful, still flushed with exertion and glasses slightly foggy. “Baby?”

You hum with a grin. “Yes. My big, beefy baby,” you tease. “I’m keeping you all to myself now.”

“You know, I think I just might be okay with that,” he replies, beaming in a way that puts the sunlight through your window to shame.

#jake jensen #jake jensen x reader #jake jensen x you #jake jensen fic #jake jensen fanfiction #jake jensen smut #jake jensen fluff

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koisuko · 10 months ago

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Could you do one with MK1 Kuai Liang and female reader going skinny dipping together?

Tw: fem reader, mdni, nudity, somewhat established relationship, no use of y/n, only nudity nothing else really

Time and time again, dates with Kuai Liang consisted of more traditional ideas. Walks on the trails of the forest, watching the sunset above the horizon, or having tea in the floral gardens. It was all very sweet, but you desperately craved adventure - something often overlooked by a traditional man such as him. You thought about the idea of a hike, or maybe a horse ride, but even those sounded too bland. Then the idea of skinny dipping came to your mind. It was perfect, you thought, both out of your comfort zone and intimate. You remember seeing hot springs on one of your strolls through the woods, perfect this time of year.

Was it a good idea? Sure, in your mind it was, the problem was getting Kuai on board with it. “Can he even swim?” You muttered, your hands busying themselves with bags of oolong tea. Your plan was to soothe his mood with the hot beverage, then bring up the date one way or another. The worst that could happen is a no, in which there’s always other things to bring up, yet you still felt nervous about his potential reaction.

Right on cue, Kuai glides through the doorway of the temple’s kitchen, his skin glistening with the sweat of training with new students. He makes his way straight to you, gingerly wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and resting his head on your shoulder. With a sigh, he nuzzles his head further into the crook of your neck. “I missed you today, my flame,” he whispered, his voice muffled by his lips on your skin. “Me too, love,” just as he released you, you turned around with the tray of tea, “I thought we could have some tea together.”

The steaming liquid seared your lips, hissing in response and giggling at your mistake. Kuai knows you, maybe too well. He knows when there is something on your mind. You seemed away, your eyes vacant and deep in thought. A hand on yours broke you away from your gaze with the tea cup, “is something troubling you?” Concern was written on his features, with a hint of curiosity in his eyes. It’s now or never, you thought. “I’m fine, I just..” you paused for a moment, contemplating how to word it the best way without completely embarrassing yourself. A blush began forming on your cheeks before you finally spoke, “would you like to um..go swimming tonight at the hot springs?” You may have left out the nude part, but that’s not a big detail..right? “Sounds relaxing, I would love to.”

It was beautiful, the moonlight bouncing off the ripples on the surface of the hot springs. A blanket of condensation settled just over the surrounding area, creating a warm atmosphere to contrast the chill of the night air. Crickets chirped, and distant owls sang their songs, a backdrop to a romantic night. The two of you settled on a nearby rock, overlooking the scene just as you both arrived. Kuai Liang seemed to busy himself with admiring the view of the stars above. With that, you took the opportunity to undress - completely, and slink into the warmth of the water. You tentatively reached out a hand towards him, praying he didn’t see the slight shiver of nervousness in your gesture.

To your surprise, he obliged rather quickly. Within a few minutes, he was beside you, his muscle relaxing under the heat. You had a clear view of his entire body beneath the water. It was a glorious sight, so much so you could see stars already. The droplets trickled down his perfectly sculpted arms, cascading down the contours of his biceps and broad shoulders. The pristine beads seemed to trace the carvings of his scars, and hug the lines of the tattoo you adore. Eventually, your eyes trailed up to meet his deep brown pools already looking at you. His gaze mirrored your own, admiring the way the water cupped your breasts, and watching the droplets with jealousy as they kiss places he wishes his lips were.

Beneath the canvas of stars, the two of you sat in silence for only moments, yet it felt like an eternity, taking in every detail of one another. Before finally, you two inch closer. He placed a gentle hand on your cheek, caressing the soft skin before dipping down to capture your lips in his. Passion in the beauty of nature, the time and place all but forgotten.

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gothamite-rambler · 1 month ago

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Dick Grayson hanging out with Kara El

This a prompt I came up with after I read this old post that said this: I've read too many batfamily fics. I need to read a fic that is about Dick spending time with everyone EXCEPT the batfam.

Kara and Dick sat at the front bar of a fancy club having drinks together. Dick had invited the supergirl out for drinks much to her shock. She had asked if this was one of his open dating things, but he reassured her it was just two friends hanging out.

Kara: Okay, you got me at the club, I'm wearing a cute dress, you're dressed like a GQ model. You better not try anything on me.

Dick (chuckling): Promise I won't. I had a free night and you were the only one I wanted to call. Especially since Kori won't be back until next week.

Kara: You took me out for drinks, no trying to smash or woo me?

Dick nodded with a sincere smile.

Kara: Oh shit, you're telling the truth. Thank goodness... okay next question, you seriously still see mas a friend?

Dick: Yep, and we never hooked up so that helps.

Kara: Damn, looks like I misjudged you. How could you tell I wasn't interested in you like that?

Dick: Because you've told me numerous times that I'm not your type, that you'd never sleep with me, we’re not related through adoption, and we don’t hang out that much.

Kara (slightly surprised): Oh… Dude, I feel the same way about my 'family.' I don’t mean anything by turning you down either. You're fairly attractive, but, well, I have a type. And it's not you.

Dick: Trust me, I'm glad you think that. I’d rather not spend time with the other Titans or anyone in Gotham. I get way too many comments about how hot I am. Like, I get it, but I have way more to offer than just being charming, attractive, funny, and having a fantastic body.

Kara (playfully bumping her fist against his arm): Two of those were about your supposed good looks! I’ll admit there’s more to you than just being attractive. People seem to forget there’s an intelligent brain in that well-sculpted forehead of yours.

Dick: Aww, you think my forehead is well sculpted? Thanks, K! You forgot to mention I’m super strong and a skilled fighter.

Kara: Fairly strong, decent fighter, massive ego. You're lucky the charm makes up for it… and that you're not exactly like your dad.

Dick breathed a sigh of relief as though she had just told him he didn’t have a disease. Kara laughed at his exaggerated reaction.

Kara: Seriously though, I've always seen you as my friend even when you get on my nerves. No one else likes cosmopolitans like we do.

Dick agreed while taking a sip from the fancy wine glass filled to the brim with the drink in question. Kara laughed, having already finished her drink.

Kara: They're missing out.

Dick: Definitely. Hey are you still a fan of Sex and the City?

Kara: Duh! I’ve been watching the spinoff shows too. They don’t have the same charm as the original, but—

Dick: Carrie Bradshaw remains fabulous in all of them?

Kara (smirking): Exactly.

Dick: I say we watch that and then Veronica Mars?

Kara: Oh my heart! You’re still a Veronica Mars fan?

Dick rolled his eyes and tilted his head, refusing to let her insult his favorite show.

Dick: It’s about a young detective played by the national treasure, Kristen Bell. You won’t change my mind. How about this—second round is on me, and then we watch one of my favorite shows and one of yours.

Kara (eager): All right! We’re watching the last two seasons of Riverdale.

Dick dramatically waved his hands in rejection, but Kara laughed, playfully shoving him.

Dick: God, no! Stephanie likes that trash. I couldn’t get past season one.

Kara: If I'm sitting through ‘90s teen angst, you’re watching a CW show that’s definitely enjoyably dumb. Come on, I’ll buy us tacos while we’re here.

Dick sighed, relenting.

Dick: Fine, but don’t think about getting me drunk and having your way with me.

Kara: Oh, honey, no. I’m no Barbara; I won’t make that mistake. Luckily she wised up.

Dick (laugh-cackling): You’re ridiculous.

Kara (with a prideful smile): I know. You’ll have to deal with it if we’re going to hang out more.

Dick (sincere): I’m okay with that.

Dick held up his glass and clinked it against Kara's before she stood up to order more drinks and tacos. Once she left, Dick sighed, glad to take a break from spending time with his family.

With a family as large as his, it got exhausting to always be around them. Kara was refreshing to be with, thanks to her brash and oddly bubbly attitude, plus she was one of the few people who actually treated him like a regular individual.

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yeonzzzn · 1 year ago

Text

💫why do you care?: sim jaeyun

pairing: jake x afab!reader word count: 2.5k

synopsis: a night out with a stranger to get revenge just might be what you need…

genre: strangers to lovers, bar/club!au

warnings: swearing, cheating partner, revenge, some spice ♡

You already knew walking into the bar doors how flushed your face looked. The red of anger, the sadness in your eyes showing on full display. You never had a good poker face, after all.

Make a b-line for the nearest stool at the bar counter, dropping yourself into the seat, face in the palms of your hands.

“May I get you anything, miss?” the bartender asked with the ‘I cannot wait to get out of here tone’ in his voice.

You nodded, “Just a glass of water, please, and thank you.”

The shuffling of the bartender's feet left, but then quickly returned minutes later, hearing the sound of glass being set on the counter in front of you.

You perked up your head, ready to get that good ole H2O into your system, but your already frown became worse.

Not only did the glass of water set in front of you, but there was also a small shot glass.

You raised a brow at the bartender, “I didn’t order this.”

With a sigh and roll of the eyes, he pointed to your left, “That gentleman over there did.”

With a glance to your left, you see who the tender was pointing at. The man sat four chairs down from you, his black hair parted neatly. His black blazer suit jacket complemented his black tank top underneath. Tiffany and Co. jewelry on his fingers and wrist. The man looked expensive.

He raised his glass of alcohol to his lips, not even acknowledging the bartender or you.

You were already angry enough, this man made it worse.

“Hey!” you called out to him, his eyes slowly shifting to you, his glass not leaving his lips. “If this is your way of hitting on me, thanks but no thanks, take it back.”

He raised his brows in surprise, setting his glass down.

“Wow, alright,” his thick Australian accent huffed, “how ungrateful.”

His words pushed your buttons harder, “I don’t need to be hit on right now, so keep your drinks to yourself.”

He scoffed, turning his body fully towards you, slightly leaning forward, “Darlin, I don’t give two shits about hitting on you, I’m not even interested really. You walked in and I noticed you didn't look well, all I did was buy you a shot since you looked like you needed it. That’s it.”

The agreement left you, your face, and your body relaxing. You realized his acts of kindness and took it for another.

“I apologize,” you broke eye contact with his coco eyes, “It’s been a very rough night.”

The Australian man sighed and stood up from his, planting himself in the chair right next to you.

“We are gonna need more shots.” He said to the tender, and with a nod, the tender pulled a bottle off the shelf and rolled out more tiny glasses.

“What are you doing?” You asked in confusion.

“I figured if you’re going to tell me what’s up, then we are going to need more alcohol in our systems.”

You chuckled, “Why do you care?”

He smiled, “I don’t really, but you need someone and I’m here.”

You dropped your head in your palm, studying his face. Now that he was inches away from you, you noticed how beautiful he was. The gods literally sculpted his jawline and his eyes were breathtaking.

“Now,” he started, handing you a shot and taking one for himself, “we shall introduce ourselves and then I’ll listen to your story.”

You clanked the glasses together and took down the liquor.

“I’m Jake.”

You nodded, “Y/N.”

“Well, Y/N,” he softly said, “tell me this story.”

It surprised you how quickly you opened up to Jake. How comfortable you feel telling this stranger that you’ve been suspicious of your boyfriend cheating on you. How you figured out not even an hour ago that he actually was, and how you followed him to a club and saw everything folded out in front of you. The way your boyfriend was holding onto the other woman, the way he kissed her. How you stormed out of the club and ran as fast as you could until you reached this bar and sat down.

“Wow, he sounds like a dick,” Jake said jokingly.

You took another shot down, “no he actually really is.”

Jake tapped his fingers against the counter, “I’m sorry Y/N, you don’t deserve that.”

You shook your head, “two years down the drain for whoever she is,” you sighed, “guess I wasn’t enough.”

Jake perked up at those words, leaning closer to you, “No, stop that.”

You glanced over at him, “what?”

Jake tucked his lip between his teeth, shaking his head, “Don’t ever say you aren’t enough just because some asshole treats you like shit.”

With a shrug of your shoulders and another shot down you replied, “So what do I do then?”

The corner of his lips slid up, “want to get some revenge?”

~~~

Your hands trembled as you stood behind Jake. Your heart pounding against your rib cage ready to tear through your skin at any moment.

“Jake, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

He gave you a smile as he popped open the trunk of his car, revealing the metal baseball bat, tire wrench, and spray paint cans you both just bought from the store.

“Don’t get cold feet now darlin, you liked this idea ten minutes ago.”

“Well yeah,” you crossed your arms over your chest, trying to keep your heart from bursting out, “that was before I let you drive me to the nearest store to buy said items and come back to the club my boyfriend is grinding another woman up at.”

Jake handed your the bag of spray paint, taking the bat and tire wrench in his other hand, and closed the trunk, “And that’s exactly why we are doing this, because of the fact that YOU should be the woman he’s grinding his dick on inside that club, not someone else.”

You bit your bottom lip, your brain telling you this wasn’t a good idea…but your heart wants nothing more than to make your boyfriend suffer how he’s made you suffer.

You nodded, “his car is this way.” Jake smirked as he followed behind you.

The music of the club was loud enough to drown out the sound of metal against metal. The sound of Jake kicking your boyfriend’s headlights, the glass falling to the gravel.

The words cheater painted across the side of the car by your hands.

You took the bat and broke the driver-side window, unlocked the door, and climbed inside.

“Jake, do you have a knife?”

Jake leaned his body into the car beside you, “What are you thinking love?”

“I’m going to carve my name into these expensive leather seats of his.”

Jake chuckled, “damn you’re so sexy right now.”

He pulled out a small pocket knife, handing it over to you.

You don’t know where this boost of confidence came from, but you knew it had to do with Jake.

He was bringing out the rebel inside you, the girl who wanted to scream and fight back but never did.

He brought that girl out tonight.

“How does it look?” You asked him, showing how beautiful your name looked in the tan leather.

“Belongs in a museum.”

“Doesn’t it?”

You climbed out of the car, taking a few steps back to look at the damage you both have done.

The emotions you felt just seconds ago vanished. You thought the sight of your boyfriend's damaged car would excite you. Make all your problems go away. But it didn’t.

Jake noticed it too.

“I have another idea of revenge.”

~~~

You followed Jake inside the club, the music blasting against your eardrums. Every beat shakes your bones.

“What’s the plan now, Jake?” you asked tugging on the hem of your crop top, “I am not dressed properly for a club.”

Jake turned and faced you, slipping off his blazer jacket, revealing his muscled arms, the black tank top definitely complemented his body in every way possible now. He dropped the blazer on the table next to you.

“Y/N, you’re sexy as fuck.”

You raised a brow at him, “I’m literally in a white tank, leggings, and my Nikes.”

He took your hand in his, “and it’s the hottest combination that only you can pull off, and trust me I’ve seen many try to pull it off. You’re sexy and we are going to enjoy dancing at this club to make your man jealous, now follow my lead.”

No hesitation, you walked with him to the dance floor, passing through the bodies of everyone else who was having a great time.

“Point out the dickhead.” Jake asked, pulling you to his side, and wrapping his arm around your waist.

You glanced around the dance room, one by one trying to pick him out, until you finally did.

His new girl was wrapped around him. His hands on her hips with her face in his neck.

You were fuming, your blood boiled inside you.

You heard Jake scoff, “he even looks like a dick.”

Nodding, you slowly looked away from your boyfriend and at the floor.

Jake pulled you closer, your body touching.

His hand rested on your chin, pulling you to look up at him.

“He noticed us,” Jake spoke with excitement in his voice, “remember when I said follow my lead?”

You nodded, “Yes, obviously Jake”.

He smirked, “You can dance, ya?”

Another nod.

“Good.”

Jake left no room between the two of you, his hands went to your hips, moving them to the beat of the song, in perfect rhythm with his own movements.

Your body burned from Jake’s touch and the way his hands felt on you. The way your bodies moved together in perfect harmony. Hips grinding together.

You tangled your hands in his jet-black hair, resting your forehead against his, his breath sending chills down your spine with every touch to your skin.

“Fuck you’re so sexy,” Jake smirked, inching his lips closer to yours, barely brushing together.

You glanced over at your boyfriend, seeing the anger and ugly jealousy playing on his face. It fueled you even more to continue.

“Kiss me,” you brushed against his lips, “I need you to kiss me.”

Jake chuckled and glanced over to your boyfriend, “I’m going to do more than just kiss you.”

Before you could ask, Jake connected his lips to yours.

His hands grasped your ass, squeezing the fat tightly.

Your breath hitched, his touch sending vibrations throughout your body. Each kiss deepened.

His tongue touched your bottom lip, requesting for entrance.

You opened your mouth just wide enough for his tongue to slide through, twisting around in a perfect dance with yours.

Jake pulled away, hands back on your hips and twisting you around.

Your back slammed against his chest. Hands back on your hips.

“Follow my movements,” Jake whispered in your ear, his voice sent chills down you, turning you on even more.

He slid his hand up your arm, lifting it to wrap around his neck, his other hand pulling you even closer to him, his hard-on against your ass.

You tucked your lip between your teeth, slowly grinding yourself against his length.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Jake softly moaned in your ear, “you’re making this very difficult love.”

You smirked at the feeling of his length hardening even more, “making what so difficult Jake?”

He nibbled on your ear, “wanting you.”

The dance continued, your bodies grinding against each other. Jake’s hands feel up every inch of your body.

Neither of you broke eye contact with your boyfriend, watching as he slowly got angrier by the minute.

Jake grilled onto your hips, slowly trailing his hands up your torso, stopping just below your breasts, slowly sliding his thumbs over them, barely grazing your nipples.

Your breath hitched at his touch, mouth slowly opened ajar.

And that was the last straw your boyfriend could take, leaving his new girl behind, marching his way over to you.

“Oops, guess I pissed him off.” Jake snickered.

The closer your bf got, the more red in the face he became.

“Hey!” he shouted.

Jake pulled you behind him, “Hey!” he shouted back.

“Who the fuck are you?!” your bf said standing a few feet away.

“Depends on the day.” Jake shrugged.

“You think you can just dick down my girlfriend like that?!”

“I dunno mate,” Jake clicked his tongue, “think you can just cheat on your girl and expect her to not find out?”

Your bf stood there quiet, his eyes darting between you and Jake.

“Y/N, come here right now.” He said, snapping his fingers at his side.

Jake raised a brow, chuckling as his tongue slid against his upper lip, “Nah mate, you’re fucking stupid if you think I’m going to let her go.”

Seeing the way Jake was standing up for you turned you on. Knowing that this is the way you deserve to be treated. You deserved the kindness Jake has shown you tonight. You deserved the way he couldn’t take his eyes and hands off you while you danced. You deserved to be kissed the way Jake kissed you every single day.

You deserved Jake.

Your bf shot daggers into Jake, but enough was enough.

“It’s over.” You shouted, peaking around Jake, “I’m done with you. Go back to your whore, we are done.”

Your now ex clicked his tongue, shaking his head, “whatever.”

As he turned to leave, Jake had one last comment, “Also a nice car mate, really loved the detailed work.”

He stopped moving, you and Jake both noticing how it finally clicked in his head.

Jake grabbed your hand, quickly pushing past people dragging you behind him until exiting the back door of the club.

You didn’t stop running there. Jake led you back to his car, “get in quickly!”

As Jake was pulling out of the parking lot, you saw your ex running out of the club to see the damage done to his car. You both couldn’t stop laughing.

Jake offered to drive you to your apartment, it was three in the morning and he didn’t want you to have to take a cab back home so late.

The car came to a stop once outside your apartment building.

“Thank you for tonight, Jake,” you said making eye contact with him.

He softly smiled back at you, “It was no problem at all.”

You weren’t ready to leave him, weren’t prepared to let him go. You debated on inviting him inside, but not wanting to look so desperate. You’ve only been single for about an hour anyway.

“What is it love?” Jake asked concern showing on his face.

“Will I ever see you again?” you softly spoke.

But to your surprise, he started laughing.

“What is so funny?” you asked, shoving his shoulder.

Jake took your hand in his, “Why do you care?”

You sighed, giving him a glare, “a nice way of turning the tables.”

“I know, thank you.” he smiled brightly, showing his perfect white teeth with it.

“Anyways, will I ever see you again?” you asked once again.

Jake turned the car off, preparing himself to get out.

“I don’t want to leave you yet,” he reached over and cupped your face between his hands, planting a soft kiss on your lips, “and I most definitely want to see you again.”

#jake bby #sim jake #sim jaeyun #enhypen #jake x reader #reader x jake #jake x female reader #female reader x jake #enhypen x reader #reader x enhypen #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fanfic #enhypen imagines #strangers to lovers #yeonzzzn writing

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stellamalonesolaria · 6 months ago

Text

BTS Kim Taehyung x reader | oneshot (drabble) | boy(friend)

pairing: fuckboy! bestfriend!taehyung x non specified! reader

warning: mild swearing.

author’s note: english is not my first language. also, this was an impromptu attempt to test my very mediocre writing skills.

—————————————————————————

“It’s negative.” Taehyung says as his hands snake around your waist, his lips leaving wet tiny kisses on your neck, causing you to leave a gasp, his fingers tracing tiny circles on your stomach, giving you goosebumps. You immediately try to pull away from him resisting the sensations he has made you feel. you push him back using all your pent up force as he raises an eyebrow, watching you in amusement.

“Good for you Kim”, you say almost satirical. you look up, gazing into his hazel brown eyes, he keeps his mouth shut as he anticipates you continuing your speech, which you do, “Tae, first off i don’t believe that the dick that’s been used up by almost the entirety of this town hasn’t caught any std yet, second of all, you can’t just hover over me while i’m working in the kitchen, like god one day of peace and a warm meal is all i ask of you and you cannot even provide me with that.”, Taehyung heaves as he hears your over dramatic rhetorics, “Okay drama queen, i get it, you’re just distraught right now because you were caught up with your cooking chaos and cooking makes everyone agitated but what i did was completely justified. Also the std shit is pretty offensive bae, might want to tone it down a notch huh?” his deep voice completely captivates you, leading you to melt into his arms as you hug him and snuggle into his arms, basking in his coffee like scent.

“Sorry Tae, you surprised me, I shouldn’t have pulled off the std joke and i wont ever as long as you keep your hands to yourself, okay boy friend?”. yes Kim Taehyung is just your guy best friend whom you’re sometimes very much so enticed towards, he is beguiling, enchanting and everything both men and women could ask for. he’s the embodiment of beauty, he looks like he has been sculpted very carefully by greek gods, the only sad thing is, this guy is a douche, he believes in fucking around for temporary sexual gratification and has been known as the ‘male bop’ of the town because of all the scandalous activities he has been involved with, especially, breaking every man’s ego and sneaking in every woman’s panties, you’re an exception to his rendezvous, or so you thought so.

Taehyung breaks the hug, forgiving you, “it’s okay sweetheart, maybe my actions were too straightforward and blunt, you know with all the hickeys I was trying to create.”, he says this with a husky voice, presumably ruining your underwear. “But a deal’s a deal.”. he says confusing you. “What deal Tae?”, you ask to which he answers, “You agreed to fuck me if I tested std negative deal.”, he throws this casually as you breathe out an exasperated sigh. ‘when did this even happen’ you think, and knowing you he deciphers that you probably don’t remember.

“Goddamnit Y/N, do you remember when i broke off things with Evie? That day, you and I got drunk and then at night, we briefly had an agreement with you being my hookup partner if i don’t have any sexual related disease? So I took your word and tested for it, turns out my dick is free of any potential threat that could’ve been an obstacle between you, I and sex.” You squeal in shock as these words leave his mouth, causing you to leave your mouth agape, wide and long enough for any housefly to enter inside and refuge there till you die.

You shut your mouth, processing his words as your nostrils flare up, your nose scrunching up in disgust, your eyebrows knitting together in scrutiny. “EW EW EW EW, Taehyung, you’re hot and shit, but I’m not sleeping with a manwhore who has bedded my arch nemesis as well as my step sister and the entire town and HOW COULD YOU EVEN SEE ME THROUGH THOSE LUSTFUL EYES, I WOULD PUKE NOOO”, you say as you cover your ears refraining yourself from hearing anything this attractive asshole has to say about screwing you.

You finally calm down after what feels like an eternity. “Taehyung, why don’t you just have sex with Seolhyun again? It didn’t matter to you when her and I were literally fighting over my ex so why not make love to her again now?”, this was war against Taehyung, you spat your words like fire.

“The only reason I fucked your arch nemesis in the first place was because you asked me to, so that you could maintain tranquility between your ex and you when you both were dating, plus, sex with her is so boring, she only wants missionary and someone she can submit to, like bitch, this isn’t vanilla bdsm and i’m not a slave to your boring ideas of what sex should be between men and women, anyways, sorry for the rant, are you up for some good ol’ sex or nah?”, Taehyung retorts, absolutely burning Seolhyun to ashes. You blink in remorse as you’ve been the one who coaxed him to sleep with her. You dismiss Seolyun’s topic by stuffing his face with the cookies you were baking while you try to politely decline his fuck buddies offer.

“What if sex with me turns out to be boring too?”, you say as Taehyung looks into your eyes, and with genuineness, he opens his mouth “Sex with you could never be boring. Infact, if I ever get you to comply with this entire sleeping agreement, I fear I’d need another partner for the rest of my life.”, this line, makes your heart race, you don’t say anything, as he just keeps gazing into your eyes, embracing your soul with warmth of his words and sincerity brimming in his eyes, you both clasp your hands together when suddenly your doorbell rings.

You get pulled out of the romantic ambience that Taehyung’s words had created as you dash towards your main gate entrance. There is a delivery boy standing in front of you which puzzles you as you haven’t ordered anything. The delivery boy looks at you with a smug expression on his face almost adding fuel to the awkward tense atmosphere which was already built.

“Ma’am, here’s your order.”, the delivery boy chimes as he places a packet of condom into your hands. Your eyes widen in shock and your cheeks turn crimson red as you look at the thing in your hand as if it’s the most illicit shit you’ve seen on your palm. You clench the condom packet in your hand as you make your way to the kitchen, where Taehyung is standing, devouring the cookies you’ve baked. You hold his upper arm, causing him to turn around as he looks at your flabbergasted state with cookies stuffed in his mouth.

“What is this?”, you ask clearly shooketh to the core, to which Taehyung replies nonchalantly, “a condom?”, you roll your eyes as you further ask, “what for?”, annoyance evident in your tone with a hint of mortification and shyness at the same time.

He smirks as he looks at your bewildered state, leaning closer to your lips, reducing the proximity between you two, his one hand grabs your ass, causing you to yelp, and his other hand gently puts your hair strand behind your ear while he says, “what else sweetheart?”

—————————————————————————

the end.

#kim taehyung x you #bts v x reader #bts x you #kim taehyung x reader #bts ff #fwb #bts taehyung #bts tae tae #taehyung ff #tae x reader #v x reader #bts x reader #bts x y/n #taehyung #taehyung x y/n #taehyung x you #jungkook x y/n

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mostlyfragilethoughts · 2 years ago

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Gentle Male Demon x Timid Female Reader (Part Four)

Rating: SFW-ish..?

Word Count: 674

Author's Notes: this fic was born out of a want to see more realistic reactions to inhuman creatures in a world like ours. i do love a brave and instantly smitten protagonist, but we also need to remember the shy, easily startled souls who take a bit to warm up to a monster. this will be slow burn but definitely worth the wait.

Painting him felt intimate.

You were looking at him closer than you ever had before, trying to fully replicate the scarce curves and many, many jutting angles that comprised his form.

The chair you had directed him to was so small considering how large he was, but it would work. You smiled softly as you captured the features of his face; the hollow eyes, visible skull, and your favorite part, his crooked smile.

Your eyes flitted up to catch Spirit staring at you over the canvas before he quickly looked away, his clawed fingers fiddling with each other as he tried to still himself and his nervous twitching.

You giggled a bit and looked back down at the canvas before you, though you could tell from your peripheral that he turned to gaze at you again.

It was when the sun was hanging low in the sky that you brushed in the final touches of his sharp claws. You couldn’t help but notice how little you had talked; it was like a sacred experience to you both, a comfortable yet strangely intimate moment in time that you knew you wouldn’t soon forget.

After you painted a tiny “Birdie” in the bottom right corner, you broke the silence a bit reluctantly with a, “Spirit? It’s finished.”

He snapped to attention instantly and came to join you on the other side of the canvas. For a moment he stood, transfixed, empty eyes large as he stared at your depiction of him.

“That’s.. me..?”

His voice came out in a soft croak, sounding like he was holding back strong emotion. He raised a claw to the canvas, not touching the tacky paint, but lovingly hovering over the softness of the fur you had painted and the affectionate way you had sculpted his face with the paint.

Bashfully, you smiled and murmured, “Well, that’s how I see you, anyway. You’re beautiful, Spirit.”

A gasp caught in his throat and he turned to you. Shocked, you noticed a viscous black liquid dripping from his sockets and landing on his equally pitch black fur. You reached for him and started to say his name before he softly interrupted.

“Birdie.. I…—”

He came close, his long claws reaching for your fingers, interlocking them and squeezing them. You jumped a little, gazing up at him as he took in a bracing breath, as if preparing to enter a confessional booth. You felt your heartbeat vividly pound in your ears as you waited for him to speak.

“.. I can’t take it anymore…” he murmured. Your eyes grew wide; this was the clearest you’d ever heard him in your mind — the pauses in between his words nonexistent as he craned his head, touching his forehead to yours.

“Fuck.. you’re all I can think about night and day, Birdie. It’s the truth. And now this? If you really see me like how I am in your painting, I’ll only get my hopes up… What should I do..?”

He nuzzled closer to you, both of your chests touching now. You made a noise, a trembling, high pitched thing, and to your surprise, his tongue lolled out of his maw in response, long, forked, and salivating. You felt a shiver run up your spine, and didn’t know if it was from fear or arousal. You concluded very quickly that it was likely a combination of both.

“You can reject me; I know I’m not human, but… you’ve made me feel more alive than I have in centuries. I… want you. I.. I..—“

He seemed to flounder for a split second, and it dawned on you that perhaps romantic affection had no place in his vocabulary until now.

“You… love me..?” you shyly interjected in a whisper, your face now fully flushed and your voice quivering. There was a beat where you both stared at each other and it felt as if all the oxygen in the room had dissipated.

It all came rushing back when he breathily said, “That’s it. Yes, Birdie… I love you.”

- Part 5 - (coming soon)

#original story #monster x reader #monster romance #human x monster #monster boyfriend #monster x human #love #slow burn #monsterfucker #monster lover #monster love

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astarionslittlejuicebox · 1 year ago

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The Promise of Eternity (Part 5)

Author: @astarionslittlejuicebox

Imagine: The reader helped Astarion ascend and became his spawn. After saving the world from the Elder brain and it’s destruction, the reader and Astarion set out to take on the world together. While he promised to never forget the gifts the reader has given him, Astarion has seemed to have changed his attitude towards the reader in the last century…. After someone breaks one of Astarion’s rules, how will this affect the reader’s fate?

Pairing: Astarion x F!Reader

Trigger warnings: potential for minor spoilers, suggestive themes, language, mentions of death, mentions of blood, abusive relationship, mention of slavery

Word Count: 1145

Imagine Series

Side Notes:

This imagine series takes place 200 years after the events of Baldur’s Gate 3. Everything you read in here is a story from my mind outside of the original BG3 character Astarion.

In this imagine series, Astarion is a bit more unemotionally unavailable, and this series will follow the decisions and consequences of that change. This is not canonically accepted and it is just an idea I’ve had in my head! (I do believe Astarion might truly care for the reader after Ascension, but that is open to individual interpretation.)

In this series, TAV is mildly based on my first character I played in BG3; she is a drow and I will make references to her in her background and knowledge as well. I do apologize that it is not 100% your own imagine, but the name for TAV is up to you as well as anything else that I can think of leaving to you, the reader, to decide.

I appreciate everyone who reads the imagines and this series, and I hope you enjoy the story!

TAV POV

“Good morning, Mistress.” I awoke the next morning with a startle as Kristiana knocked and entered my bedchambers.

“Fuck!” My hand clutched where my heart would have been beating through my chest. “Kristiana, damn, I’m sorry. You startled me.” The woman frowned slightly as she took in the sight of me still in yesterday’s clothes.

“Mistress, did you not go to bed last night?” Concern laced in every word she spoke, but I waved a dismissive hand.

“Do not fret. I was merely doing some very interesting reading and lost track of time.” I gave her a reassuring smile as I took note of my page and closed the book. “Let’s get dressed for the day.”

After bathing and getting dressed in a beautiful jade dress that flowed around my ankles, I dismissed Kristiana again for the whole day under the guise that I wanted her to enjoy the change of season. I waited until she left before I opened Inception of Yesterday and reread the last page I had fallen asleep on, and my eyes widened in surprise. This page had a detailed step-by-step process of a ritual Elminster had done in 1000 DR to see what caused a catastrophic fire in the Waterdeep Palace. If my heart still had a rhythmic beating, it would have increased its pace as my eyes reread and then read again the words on the page. A sliver of hope began to sprout in my chest as I studied the steps, but a small voice in the back of my head also began to sow doubt in the back of my mind.

There is only one way to test this. I thought to myself. I have to see if I can do the ritual and see what happened here last night. I read again the list of ingredients needed for the ritual: four red candles, a single blue candle, chalk, and a connection to the Weave. I bit at my lip as I looked up from the book. I needed to head back into town for supplies, and I had a feeling that I might need to have a few rounds of those supplies. Magic has a tendency to be temperamental when attempting it for the first time.

Gathering my coat and placing the books from the library in my bag, I threw open my bedroom door to find Astarion standing there with his fist poised to knock on my door before I let out a startled yelp. A perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised itself on the pale elf’s face at the sight of me.

“I have to go into town for supplies.” I answered before Astarion could ask anything of me. “I may require your assistance later on for the task you have asked of me, but I need to see if I am capable of doing the spell first. So, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go.” The words fumbled out of my mouth as I avoided prolonged eye contact with the pair of crimson eyes I had been in love with for centuries now. The same ones that continued to break my heart for the last century. I said nothing more as I pushed past Astarion and closed the door behind me.

“Darling, you seem to have forgotten something.” His velvety voice sounded amused as I started to walk away from him. I paused and noticed that the sole of my foot felt cooler than before. Looking down, I had noticed what the vampire had alluded to: I wasn’t wearing shoes. I groaned before turning around, but Astarion stood in front of my door, blocking my reentry. “Does your maiden not take care in getting you dressed?”

“I dismissed her this morning after putting on my dress.” The words bitterly left my mouth as I avoided eye contact with the piercing red eyes staring at me. Why did he suddenly seem to care? He hadn’t in a century. A deep chuckle sounded from his chest, which made me look at him. “Can I put my shoes on now, or do you wish to ridicule me further?” Any amusement that was on the elf’s face dissipated at my question.

“Darling—” He began, but I raised a hand to stop him.

“Forgive me, my Lord, but you have asked a task of me and I must do so. I am not sure what has changed recently, but you cannot just resume calling someone darling when you’ve treated them like a speck of dirt or a bug to be squashed for the last hundred years.” Those crimson eyes of his widened at my outburst. “Now, if you will forgive me, I have to get these supplies, and do my duty. I’m sure your tiefling is looking for you.” He made no move to stop me as he stepped out of my way, and he was gone by the time I threw on a pair of heels to match my dress.

I hadn’t spoken to Astarion in such a manner since the tiefling had arrived at the castle, nor had Astarion spoken so casually to me since her arrival. She despised my guts the moment she stepped foot through the door, and Astarion seemed to do the same from the moment he made eye contact with her. An unsettling feeling began to emerge in the pit of my stomach as I thought more about the damn tiefling, but I pushed it to the back of my mind as I hurried to gather my supplies.

Astarion POV

You cannot just resume calling someone darling when you’ve treated them like a speck of dirt or a bug to be squashed for the last hundred years. (TAV’s name)’s words echoed in my mind as I walked away from her room. He hadn’t known that he was acting in such a way to her, and it made him feel as though he had been absent for quite some time.

Could I really have treated her so horribly? He thought to himself as he walked the halls of his castle they had built together. Why can I not recall the last century? It seemed like just yesterday Zeyis arrived at the castle’s door. His feet seemed to stop as he stood in front of a large portrait of himself. His eyes trained themselves on this painting, and his brain struggled to recall when he had replaced the portrait of (TAV) and him. Several emotions passed through him as he drew blanks, but two emotions remained: anger and confusion.

“Admiring yourself, are you?” Zeyis’ voice asked from behind him. As Astarion turned to look at her, all of his anger and confusion was forgotten the moment their eyes met. Something in the back of his mind was nagging at him, but he couldn’t quite place it as he looked at the tiefling.

What had been bothering him?

#astarion imagine #astarion x reader #baldursgate3 #baldursgate3imagine #ascended astarion #the promise of eternity

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coltermorning · 2 years ago

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Wanted: Day Three (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: Away from camp where Arthur can keep a better eye on you, the pair of you argue your differences to pass the time and take advantage of the nearby lake.

Author’s Notes: Part three of this one.

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, eventual smut, enemies to lovers

AO3 Link

Wanted: Day Three

Word count: 5764

“You keep talking like that and you’ll lose the privilege.”

“You’re awfully threatening for a man who never follows through with them.”

You and Arthur had started the day bright and early with a shouting match over the fact that you had barely gotten any sleep, the colder weather and his hack job of a tie down keeping you from it. You had tried and failed for most of the night to pull free, and now your arms ached nearly as badly as the rest of you.

“Said you’d kill me and you didn’t,” you spat. “Twice. Now you’re threatening to, what, gag me? Keep me quiet? But you won’t. I reckon you got the least nerve out of any bounty hunter I know.”

He was trying hard to keep you from getting under his skin, but this seemed to cross a line. He stood and approached you where you still sat, bound and livid.

“You want me to hurt you?”

His words were low and quiet, intimidating in a way you had never felt from him. You took a breath. “I want you to quit mouthing off and untie me.”

“Oh, I ain’t thought of that. Sure, why don’t I just let you run off back to New Austin while I’m at it?”

You gritted your teeth. “From the ground, you bastard.”

He scoffed, the sound somewhere between a laugh and a dismissal. “Why should I? You ain’t been nothing but a pain in the ass since I ran you out of that basin.”

You didn’t have a good argument for this other than that your back was killing you and you had to relieve yourself. You looked to the lake and had an idea.

“Because I…need a wash.”

He did laugh this time. “You want me to go find a tub while I’m at it, draw you a bath? I ain’t your caretaker. You can sit there and rot for three days for all I care.”

“Please.” You tried your hardest to be sincere in the word.

He regarded your for all of a heartbeat before that snide smile overtook his face. “How’s that taste?”

“Please. I need to relieve myself, and I feel like my muscles are about to snap any second.”

“What did I just say? You’ll have to deal with it. Besides, I ain’t falling for that crap.”

“It’s not crap,” you said, your anger surprising you. You hadn’t felt it take over like this in years.

He nodded, holding your eye as he kept that infuriating smile plastered on his face. “Sure.”

You didn’t have it in you to answer him. To take that bait only for him to deny you again. So you sat instead, taking a long breath and looking out at the lake. The water was probably freezing anyway. And while it would be good means for escape, it would also be good means to get shot. Or drown.

“You know what?” he asked, following your gaze and looking out over the water. “That ain’t such a bad idea. I reckon I’ll have a wash myself.”

You shot him a nasty look, the man radiating pure smugness as he reached for his boot. You watched, unbelieving you had been caught by such an ignorant, arrogant bastard of a man. He stripped his boots, his gear, his coat. All in clear view of you, all while knowing just how much it got under your skin to do so. He took his shirt and pants off too, left in only a union suit that he started to unbutton when he caught your eye.

You realized you’d been watching his hands unbutton the thin fabric and snapped your gaze to his face instead, pure hatred spilling from you.

“It’s okay to look,” he teased. “Probably the most entertainment you’ll get out this way.”

“You’re so full of yourself. It’s embarrassing.”

“Oh, I ain’t got nothing to be embarrassed about sweetheart,” he said as he pulled the union suit from his shoulders. You were about to call him on the nickname until you saw those damned arms of his, how broad-chested he was. He was sculpted in muscle, beautiful bodied, and it only made you madder. It would be so much easier to stand this, to laugh in his face, if he was ugly and marred under all that clothing. But now you could only grit your teeth and look away as he pulled his remaining clothing off.

“Have it your way,” he said on a laugh, the sound of him wading into the water soon reaching you. You knew the lake was as cold as you had guessed when he winced and slowed his progress, his steps further and further apart. After long enough, you finally heard splashing and turned to see him working the lake water over his shoulders, washing the grit from his skin. You let out an annoyed huff of breath and turned away, shifting your body so that your back was to him, trying to swallow your anger and come up with a better plan than this.

For the first time in your life, you were drawing a blank on what to do. Most bounty hunters weren’t as smart, weren’t as stubborn, and didn’t have the resources to keep you tied up so well for so long. You needed to get free if you were going to best this man, and he wasn’t budging on that subject. The only outlet you had was convincing him that his gang members were right and he was wrong for capturing you. But even with that, he seemed to bury his head in the sand and ignore what was right in front of him. Maybe if you made him feel guilty over it, you could get through to him better. Even if it meant giving up in a sense. You decided that was the only way and that you would have to risk the dangers of the lake. As far as strategy went, it was your best option. You just prayed luck would turn in your favor once more, lest you wind up with a hole in your head courtesy of the man at your back.

After a short while, you heard Arthur walk out of the lake and toward you to dress.

“Water’s nice. You should try it.”

You turned and shot him a nasty look only to see that he had barely gotten his union suit back over his hips. What little fabric covered him didn’t leave much to the imagination. And he was annoyingly well endowed. Damn him.

“Careful. You let that mouth of yours go any slacker, you’ll start catching flies.”

You clamped your mouth shut and composed yourself, trying hard to focus on your plan and keep from arguing with him. That was all he wanted. He wanted you to ease his guilt. He wanted you to be defiant enough to make him think he was doing the right thing. No longer.

You let out a long sigh, giving him a minute so that you were sure he was somewhat dressed when you turned to him.

“Why didn’t you kill me? Back in Blackwater?”

His face set with a flat look you couldn’t figure a meaning for. He took a moment to answer, halfway through buttoning his shirt when he spoke. “I considered it.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I only kill people I see as threats.” You thought back to the only time he had shot at you—after you had nearly escaped him back in that canyon.

“So I wasn’t threatening enough for you?”

He smirked. “Threatening, no. Annoying as all hell maybe. But you were hopping away unarmed, still bound up in all that rope, knowing you wouldn’t get anywhere. Why would I kill you when I could catch you just as quick and save myself the bother?”

“Because you said you would.”

This seemed to have the effect you wanted, as he finished with his shirt before responding, frowning all the while. “You wanted me to kill you then? That’s why you did it?”

“No.” The truth was, you hadn’t been thinking at all at the time. He had been marching you straight to your death, and your panic had set in so deep you did the only thing you could do, no matter how futile. You debated keeping this to yourself then remembered what you had to do to get through to him. “You ever…been so scared you would die you’d do anything to get out of it?” You met his eye, and by the way his gaze faltered, you knew you’d hit your mark.

You didn’t expect him to answer, but his voice rose quietly. “Sure.”

You chose your next words carefully. “I had to try. I…want to live.”

To your disappointment, that goddamn smirk overtook his face. “Should have thought of that before you killed all those people. And blew up someone meaner than you, that was your worst mistake.”

You wanted to argue that he wasn’t meaner than you or he would have killed you already. If your roles were reversed, you certainly would have killed him by now. Him and that smart mouth. But you didn’t say this, taking a different course.

“You think I killed those people for fun? I been running for nigh on two years now, all because a well-respected family tried to pin something on me I didn’t do, destroyed my good name, and told everyone around to shoot me on sight. Only I wouldn’t go down so easy. I spent an entire year trying to clear my name, to no avail, and ever since they’ve sent one bounty hunter after another after me. That’s what raised my bounty so high. They just want me silenced now, want me to go away.”

To your surprise, Arthur’s eyebrows raised slightly. “Seems you and me got that in common.”

He held your eye a heartbeat too long. It took everything in you not to smile in triumph, to hold his gaze with a hard look of your own instead. You were finally getting somewhere.

“Anyway,” he said, waving the moment away like it was nothing. He picked up his gun belt and fastened it, brought his satchel around him. “I’m gonna go find something to eat. Don’t wait up.”

You scoffed, feeling your shoulders slump on their own accord.

Arthur made for his horse and pulled a gun out of his scabbard that you recognized. “Hey!”

He turned to you with a grin. “What, you like it?” He was holding your rifle in his hands, the tic marks you had carved into its side plain as day from where you sat. “I usually don’t take a man’s gun until after he’s dead, but I like this one too much to wait that long.”

You hated him then. More than anything. You despised him for the way he talked about handing you over to your own death like it was nothing. You vowed then and there if you got free, you would kill him. Brutally.

You didn’t give Arthur the satisfaction of some lightweight insult and instead stayed quiet as he retreated into the nearby woods with a grim laugh, your eyes following him all the while. When he was out of your line of sight, you tried again to free yourself. This time, you sawed the ropes at your wrists against the one tied to the stake, back and forth, hoping they would tear themselves apart with the friction. After what had to be five minutes of doing this, you gave up. He had tied you up so tightly there wasn’t room enough to move the ropes against each other properly. You stilled and decided to save your energy. You would need it if your last resort came to fruition.

Not long after, Arthur approached from the bank to your left with a beaver hanging over his shoulder. You knew your rifle was too powerful for such an animal but kept your mouth firmly shut about it.

“Soup’s on,” he said, throwing the beaver at your feet. He returned your gun to his saddle then proceeded to skin the animal, setting some of the meat to cook above the fire. Your mouth watered at the sound of it sizzling. But again, you didn’t say anything as he worked. And you remained quiet until finally, he shocked you by walking to your back and cutting clean through the rope at your hands.

“Since you seemed to remember your manners,” he taunted, circling you. “Plus, I ain’t feeding you again. You can get it yourself. Oh, and you try anything, and I put a bullet through you. That ain’t a threat, it’s a promise. You clear on that?”

You nodded, rubbing the skin at your wrists, bending forward so your back got a break from sitting straight so long. You ate your fill and savored every bite, not having had anything as good for days. You considered escape all the while. If you found a way to incapacitate Arthur long enough, you could cut through the rope at your feet with the knife at his hip. You would kill him with it too. You had to now—it was an urge not only formed from hatred but from knowing he would pursue you to the ends of the earth if you didn’t. You wondered whether his precious gang would come after you for killing one of their own. They certainly seemed close enough to hold that sort of a grudge. You shook the thought away when Arthur tossed you a canteen, like he would pull the words right from your mind if you didn’t stop thinking about them. You looked to him in question.

“I won’t offer again,” he said, nodding to the canteen. You hadn’t seen him drink from it and were somewhat suspicious of it but raised it to your lips anyway. If he wanted to poison you after all this time, he was an even bigger fool than you thought.

When the water hit your tongue, you nearly moaned. It was the only thing you had had to quench your thirst besides Charles’ kindness back in that camp, and your mouth was dry as a bone because of it. You chugged it down, nearly draining the whole thing before Arthur said, “Easy,” and came and snatched the canteen out of your hands. You shot him daggers for it but again didn’t speak. He chuckled. “Don’t take much to make a person compliant, you know.” He walked around the fire to face you, his hand resting on the gun at his hip as he drank. “For some, it’s water. Or food. But for you, it seems to be hope.” Your gaze narrowed. “I control your hope, I control you. Whatever’s left of it.”

He wasn’t wrong. And it scared you he had read you so well. It wasn’t hard to guess at, but if he knew you still had some kind of hope left, then he knew you were still planning to get out of this. And that lowered your chances of doing so significantly.

“Tell you what,” he said, taking his gun out of its holster and tossing the canteen to his feet, the thing giving an empty clunking sound when it hit the dirt. “I’ve decided to be kind today. I can at least give you one last good day.” He made sure his gun was loaded, spinning the cylinder and clicking it back into place. “We can play a little game of sorts while we’re at it.” He leveled you with a satisfied smirk, waiting for you to ask him about his grand idea.

You sighed in annoyance. “What game?”

“I’ll let you go for a swim if you want. But the second you go under, I start shooting. And I gotta warn you, I don’t miss.” His smirk had turned into a flash of teeth, his grin making you madder than the game he proposed. There went your last chance at escape. You were a strong swimmer and may have still stood a chance, but was that something you wanted to risk? “What do you say?”

Your eyes met his and you nodded. “Sure. But no games. I just want a wash, that’s it.”

He shrugged. “Have it your way. But I would have preferred the challenge.”

You rolled your eyes and put your hands on the ground, pushing yourself up. You looked to him, expecting him to cut the rope at your feet. He just nodded toward the lake, neglecting to do anything of the sort. You refrained from saying the cutting words on your tongue and shuffled your feet, making slow progress toward the lakeshore. To your annoyance, Arthur followed. Once you got to the water and debated whether to shed any of your clothes or not, he rounded you.

“I ain’t taking no chances with you,” he said, making a show of holstering his gun but leaving it visible. He then reached for the lapels of your coat.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” you said, leaning back.

He met your eyes, and instead of anger, you found a knowing satisfaction lingering in his gaze. “You want to freeze to death when night falls because you were too stubborn to shed your clothes?”

“It ain’t about the clothes,” you snapped. “It’s about you taking them off.”

He smiled then. “Well in that case, I’m definitely doing it.”

He reached for you once more and you smacked his hand away. For the life of you, you couldn’t understand why that made his smile grow wider. Quicker than you could stop him, he moved to your back and trapped your arms against your sides by wrapping his own around you. “I’ll tie you up again and let you drown out there, mark my words.” When you relaxed enough to show that, as much as you hated him for it, you would let him get this over with so that you could keep your hands free and get in the lake already, he slowly released you. “Good girl,” he purred in your ear. You debated rounding and punching him straight in the nose for it. But you held your temper down for the hundredth time and let him be.

He brought his hands to your coat, slowly pulling it away, and something about the feeling made you snap. You could barely shift your weight to do something about it before he had his hand around your throat and trapped you against his chest, speaking lowly in your ear. “Behave.”

You hated yourself for it, but you fought off a shiver at the word. Something about his voice, the demanding way he said it, the feel of his strong chest at your back…you didn’t want to admit what it did to you. Didn’t even want to think about it. You stood stock still and let the feeling pass instead, waiting for him to let go of you. He reluctantly did so and went back to undressing you without a word—something you thought was odd, considering it was the perfect moment to say something stupid like he normally did. But you didn’t linger on that thought for long, as the feeling of needing to get out from under his hands took hold once more. You fought it and let him be, solely for the fact that you needed to get in the lake and make up your mind about whether or not to run.

Arthur pulled your coat from your arms, rounded you and unbuttoned your shirt. He untucked it, meeting your eye with an annoying smugness when the action pulled your hips toward him.

“Can you move quicker than this?” you snapped.

“Am I bothering you?”

“Always,” you said under your breath, but he caught it.

“You better think about being kinder to me. I don’t have to allow any of this, you know.”

“Oh how terrible it must be,” you said flatly. “To have to submit yourself to undressing a woman. I’m just putting you out, aren’t I?”

“Really, you are. I’m being awful lenient toward someone I plan on seeing swing in a few days.”

At the mention of that, you clamped your mouth shut once more. Your anger got the better of you, and you decided then and there to wait for a better opportunity to escape so that you could take him down in the process. You considered slapping him silly too, but you needed to keep your hands free. You fought down the urge.

Arthur chuckled as he unsheathed his knife, waving it at you. “You try anything, and I gut you.”

You looked away from him, toward the lake instead as he crouched and cut the rope at your feet. The need to kick him in the face was so hard to tamp down on that you clenched your fists to have something to do with all that restless energy. Arthur moved to the buttons on your pants before pulling them down your legs slowly, purposely trying to get a rise out of you. It took everything in you not to give in, in violence or in words.

He finally stepped away and looked at you with a surprising amount of anger. You didn’t know what that look was for but didn’t care.

“You do the rest,” he said, pulling his gun out again.

You understood then—he wasn’t going to pull your boots off your feet like some groveling maid. That would be bordering on selfless, something that was beneath him. You rolled your eyes and took your boots off, leaving behind nothing but your chemise and a jittery anticipation for the cold bite of the water.

He should not have done this. He had made a grave mistake. Arthur was already warring with himself over whether or not you deserved to live, and this only made things ten times worse. He had been letting you swim over his own indecision, then undressing you to get under your skin, but it had had the opposite effect. He had pulled you into him earlier meaning to threaten you but found that he couldn’t get the words out, the only thing coming to him a demand to behave while trying desperately to hide what his voice was betraying. And now, he could barely get your clothes off of you before needing to step away, making you finish the job because he couldn’t take his mind off of his hands on your body. What the hell was wrong with him?

He circled back around to the fire, needing to clear his head and get his eyes off of you for a moment. It was a ridiculously foolish thing to do considering he had cut you loose, but he couldn’t help it. He would do something much more foolish if he didn’t.

He walked to the far side of the fire so that he faced the lake but didn’t look up as he heard you begin to wade into the water. Why was he acting this way? He knew he couldn’t let go of the disagreements of the gang concerning you, but it was more than that. It was the thought that after all you had told him about your past, you weren’t much different than him. In fact, you probably deserved a killing even less than he did. You would have fit right in with his gang except that you probably wouldn’t have even agreed to that, being too righteous to do such a thing. So not only were you innocent and scorned, but he was holding a good person hostage, playing right into the hand of the very people he had been brought up to hate. Where did that leave him?

He knew the obvious answer was to let you go, and he was seriously considering it. But all his pitiful attempts at riling you—not to mention the harsh way he had treated you the past few days—would be enough to anger anyone to violence. Especially someone as deadly as you. So if he did let you go, would you try to kill him for it? He wouldn’t hesitate to defend himself if you did and would be willing to bet you’d wind up dead at his hand. Then he would feel even more guilt over going after you at all. Maybe he could threaten you into leaving, acting angry enough for you to think you got off easy and take the rare opportunity. In fact, that was beginning to look like his best option when Arthur heard a splash of water loud enough to make him snap to attention.

Instead of trying to escape, you were doing just as he said to do—standing belly deep in the water and washing, nothing more. What’s worse, you had stripped your chemise off too, and he watched your bare back a moment too long before looking away in shame. He couldn’t tell if his sudden attraction to you was formed from guilt or from the realization that you weren’t much different from any of the women he ran with. You were better, actually. And he stamped down on that thought quickly, so as not to cloud his judgement further.

He let you stay in the water as long as you wanted, looking up occasionally to make sure you hadn’t tried to run, not knowing what he would do if you did. He finally decided he would make his decision about what to do with you tomorrow, trying his best to keep up the same threatening act he’d used on you so far to keep you from noticing he was at war with himself over it. That made him calm some, and he took a long breath and vowed to make the rest of the day a boring, eventless one so that he wouldn’t have to think about the mistakes he had made concerning you for another second.

Arthur soon realized he had a problem—you were naked, and you would have to walk back out of that lake straight at him. He knew in order for you not to notice anything was amiss, he had to act smug about it. He had to look you over with a grin and pretend like his heart wasn’t racing when he did. He hoped with all his might that he could do so convincingly. He didn’t have it in him to argue if you called his bluff. Not with all the guilt flooding him.

Soon enough, he did exactly as he should have, sporting a lazy grin when you began walking out of the water. He never took his eyes off of you, partially to convince you, mainly because he couldn’t. You were such a sight that his breath caught. He wished then he had never let you get in that lake—he wouldn’t be able to erase the memory of you all bare for the rest of his days.

He cleared his throat before speaking to make sure his voice didn’t shoot too low. “You gonna tie yourself back up for me or make me do it?”

You shot him a nasty look, beginning to redress. He watched your every movement as you did, gripping the gun still in his hand so tightly it hurt.

“I…thanks, I guess,” you said softly, but he didn’t miss the hatred in your voice.

Once you had your chemise back on and he could breathe properly, he spoke. “I didn’t know any better, and I’d think you’re trying to butter me up.” He stepped around the fire toward you. “To appeal to my…better nature.”

“I know better than that,” you spat. “You don’t have one of those.”

He chuckled. “Maybe not.” There was more truth to that statement than you could ever know.

Once you were fully dressed, you glared at him and stood stock still, leaving the cut up ropes at your feet. He got the message and kept his gun at his side as he approached, making you eye the weapon. Little did you know, he didn’t have it in him to hurt you with it. Not anymore.

He fished more rope out of his satchel and stepped behind you, tying your hands first. He was shocked you let him do it without a fight and was reminded of your silence when he had taken you from camp. Like you wanted him to do it, like you had bigger plans of your own. He had the feeling you were constantly weighing his every move, deciding what would benefit you best in an attempt to escape. He was thinking again that you were smarter than he cared for when he finished with the ropes and stepped away. You hobbled over and sat by the fire without a word, refusing to look at him. That was all right by him—he didn’t have to think about you quite so much if you weren’t nagging him like you usually did.

The rest of the day passed achingly slowly, and Arthur debated tying you to something and getting away for a while. He didn’t though, not wanting to risk you escaping and sneaking up on him. If it weren’t for the threat you posed, he would have gladly done it and prayed you were gone when he returned, nothing but a pile of empty ropes. It would certainly be easier on him.

He fed you again in the afternoon, warring with himself over doing so. You had eyed him with suspicion, and he knew it was only a matter of time before you called him out on treating you with such mercy. To keep you from doing just that, he tied you to a nearby tree when darkness fell, retreating to his tent without a word as you spat insult after insult at him for leaving you out in the cold. It was noticeably colder than the night before, and he figured it would send the message that nothing was amiss better than anything. You had a coat besides. You would be fine until he figured out what to do with you when morning came.

Arthur drifted off in the early evening and was awoken hours later by wind so strong it made the trees shake around him. He stuck his head out of the tent to see you sitting where he left you, still awake.

“It’ll rain soon,” you shouted over the roar of the wind. “Gonna make me sleep out here in it?”

It was all he could do not to answer you, or worse, to give in. He gritted his teeth and cursed himself as he closed his tent once more, inside and away from the weather, knowing he was damning himself every second he ignored you. So be it. He still had hours until he needed to make a decision.

The bastard had shut you out. You felt the first few raindrops fall cold and thick, their impact with your skin making you shiver. One slid down your back and made you pull at your ropes to change positions, not wanting to feel that iciness again. Then, like that had only been a taste, the heavens seemed to open up, the giant maw of the sky pouring freezing rain down so thick you started to shake uncontrollably. You reined in your tears, knowing how unhelpful that would be.

To your complete surprise, not even a minute had passed when you saw a flash of canvas—Arthur had stepped out of his tent and was marching toward you. Without a word, he rounded the tree and cut you away from it, not untying you but picking you up in his arms. He carried you to his tent, your mouth shut in total shock at his act. It was possible he only did it to keep you from freezing to death, but you couldn’t deny it seemed somewhat caring.

He ducked in and set you on the far left, leaving you tied as he laid down against the opposite wall, turning his back to you. That wasn’t very smart of him, but you were thankful besides. The tent wasn’t exactly warm, and water still dripped in in some places, but it was much better than sitting outside in the rain. The constant downpour was so loud it was even a bit relaxing now. You debated thanking him but didn’t, thinking that may be pushing your luck. You did, however, turn to look at the gun belt he wore. His blade and gun were missing, probably on his other side. You cursed your lot and turned back over, mad at him all over again. It didn’t make any sense. Why was he taking such care to keep you alive only to have you killed in three days time? Why was he suddenly setting you free to wash, feeding you, letting you sleep in his tent? The answer to that hit you like a train—all this wordless kindness started when you had taken your clothes off. There was only one logical explanation for that: this man wanted you. He was lying as far away as he could so as not to touch your rain-soaked body. He probably hated himself for it too, telling himself this would all be over soon, that the temptation would pass when he turned you in. But still, there was enough feeling there for him to drag you in here in the first place. That, you could work with.

You fumbled with your tied feet and got them under you enough to turn over, facing him. You scooted closer until you touched him, your body lined against his, making him flinch.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m freezing. You’re warm.”

“Get off of me before I throw you back outside. You’re wet.”

You nuzzled into him tighter, curling into his back, wondering if you could make him give in.

“Quit,” he snarled, sitting up. He shoved you away and took the bedroll out from under you, throwing it over you before laying back down with his back turned once more. Again, caring. But not enough to free you, not enough to convince him that what he was doing was wrong.

You evaded sleep and came up with a better plan, knowing you had hours to enact such a thing and the perfect setup—close quarters. You smiled. You would have him cutting through your bounds in no time.

_________

Part four is here.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 #fanfic #writing

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