#hes not going to stand up to trump just because he has the spine to do that

[ceasarslegion]

Trump isn't even in office and his clown car are already trying to declare war on canada

The fuck did we ever do to you?? We've been your largest trade partner forever, we've done nothing but support our mutual trade agreement and our open border, and now you're trying to slap our goods with tariffs (which would destroy our already struggling economy) and picking fights with us for no reason?

What the fuck are you gaining from this shit?

[yaaay-propellerhat]

Day 4

Trump wakes up on Cucurucho's lap. Again. It's just easier for him to fall asleep there. Comfortable? No. But his heartbeat and thoughts can actually slow down this way, making it way easier for him to feel how tired he actually is.

WHY he's awake is more of a concern, however.

Someone's knocking on the door.

Trump clambers up on Cucurucho's desk and crouches in front of him, tail lashing back and forth. He put a sign on the door. It keeps the dumber robot bears away just fine. And he’s locked the door. He just has to wait for this person to leave.

The door begins to open.

THEY HAVE A KEY.

Snarling, Trump leaps off the desk and sprints to the door. He shoves himself into the crack between the door and the wall, putting himself between the intruder and Cucurucho.

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING, YOU STUPID MOTHERFUCKER? THE SIGN FUCKING SAYS 'DO NOT DISTURB,' CAN'T YOU READ?"

A chill runs up his spine as he looks up at the intruder. It's some human. They're wearing a white jumpsuit and smell like bitter smoke. There's a folder in their hand.

"What the hell?" they grunt, taking a step back.

Trump resists the urge to do the same. He stands his ground and narrows his eyes at the human, baring his teeth.

"What are YOU doing here?" he snaps. "We're in a meeting."

The human huffs. "Out of the way, huevo. I've got orders," they say, going to grab the doorknob again.

Trump snarls and snaps at his hand. "SO DO I," he spits. "NOBODY IN. THOSE ARE MY ORDERS."

The human flinches away, pulling their hand up out of reach of Trump's teeth. "Jesus- fuck!" they spit. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Trump just growls. His eyes give their familiar ache, his vision sharpening, and he knows that he looks even less human now.

The human huffs. "Look, little egg," they say. They kneel down to get eye-level with Trump. They tap their folder with the back of their hand and talk very slowly, like Trump won't be able to understand them if he doesn't. "A few days ago, we ran some repairs on the robot. It needs to keep a hard copy of what we did to it on file, but none of our WORKERS have been able to get IN HERE," they say, looking from the sign to Trump suspiciously.

Trump's tail goes between his legs.

"So now I gotta haul my ass all the way over here because some dumbass dragon egg thinks he's a big boy now," says the worker with a smile that doesn't reach their eyes. "So do us both a favor and get out of the way before I do something we both REGRET."

"You can't touch me," Trump spits. His eyes narrow. "You're not allowed." There's a slight quiver in his voice. He hates it.

"Wanna bet?" asks the human. "I've had a loooong day." They stand up to their full height and snap their fingers, making Trump flinch. "Outta the way."

"No," says Trump, standing his ground.

"Don't be stupid, huevo," the worker spits. "We made your mom disappear, we can do it to you too. And your little clutch. We've done it before. Just step out of the way and-"

"No!" Trump snarls. "No! I promised! I pinky-swore! I'm not moving!"

"C'mere," the worker growls. They grab Trump roughly by the wrist and yank, trying to pull him out through the door.

"NO!" Trump screeches. He braces his feet inside the office, clinging to the inside of the doorframe. "DON'T TOUCH ME! LET ME GO!"

"Come ON, EGG, don't be an idiot." the worker twists Trump's wrist, hard.

Trump screams in pain and terror. "LET ME GO! YOU'RE HURTING ME!" He lets go with his other hand to scratch the worker's forearm.

The worker cusses loudly and takes the opportunity to pull Trump out of the office, holding him off the ground with one hand.

"STOP! STOP IT! GO AWAY!" Trump screeches, kicking blindly. "HELP!" he screams into the vast, echoing hallways. "HELP ME!"

The worker grabs Trump's face with their other hand, squeezing his cheeks and smothering his nose and mouth. "Shut the fuck up," he growls low.

Trump’s eyes are wide. He gives a high warble, a draconic call for his mom. He hates himself for it.

A door opens down the hallway. Jeremy steps out, rubbing his eyes blearily. His gaze finds the tableau in front of Cucurucho's office.

Trump and the worker turn to him, frozen in place.

Jeremy looks at the worker. He looks at Trump. He looks at the worker, then at Trump again. His tired eyes narrow, mouth setting into a firm line.

"What's going on here?" he asks, his voice cold and clipped.

Trump takes his chance. He opens his mouth and bites hard into the worker’s hand.

"ARGH-!" the worker yells in pain. They drop him. "YOU LITTLE SHIT!"

Trump doesn't waste any time. He ducks immediately back into the office and slams the door, locking it. Fueled by adrenaline, he pulls the cabinet crashing down in front of it, blocking the entrance.

On the other side, the worker starts banging on the door. "OPEN UP! OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR, YOU UGLY, BRAIN-DEAD LITTLE REPTILE!"

"What do you think you're doing?" Jeremy's voice asks. It's trembling slightly, sounding like the sky before a storm.

"THIS FUCKING EGG-" the worker starts ranting.

Trump ignores them. He runs back to Cucurucho and climbs back up into his lap, hugging him tight. He's shaking. His wrist hurts where the worker grabbed him. "It's okay," he whispers to Cucurucho, his voice quavering. "It's okay, it's okay, don't be scared. I'm here. I've got you, I'll protect you, I promise, you're safe in here…"

He keeps whispering the reassurances that he wants to hear to a bear who can't listen, trembling as he strokes the fur on the back of its head.

Eventually, someone knocks on the door again. This time it's softer. Trump still flinches.

"Trump?" a voice asks. It's soft, regretful.

Trump looks over his shoulder. "Señor Jeremy?" he calls back, voice unsteady.

"I'm so sorry about that. Are you okay?"

Trump sniffles. "...Y-yeah…I think so."

Jeremy sighs in relief. "Okay, good. E-everything's okay now, okay? I took- I took care of it. They won't bother you again."

Trump sighs in relief. "Good."

"I got the file from them, I'm putting it under the door, okay? Can you give it to Cucurucho for me?"

Trump nods, then remembers Jeremy can't see him. "Y-yeah, I can do that."

"Great. You've got real guts, kid. Everything's…everything's gonna be okay."

Trump nods again. "O-okay."

He hears the footsteps start to recede and calls out before he regrets it. "Señor Jeremy?"

The footsteps stop. "Yeah?"

"Thank you." Trump hugs Cucurucho tighter. "Th-thank you so much. I don't know what would've…"

"Hey, don't think about that," Jeremy's voice says from the other side of the door. "You can't think like that, it'll drive you crazy. You're okay, and that's what matters. Focus on that."

Trump closes his eyes and sighs out slowly. "Okay."

"...You're welcome, by the way" says Jeremy. "Just- be careful with yourself, alright?"

"Mm-hm."

Jeremy seems to hesitate outside the door. "Good night," he says.

"Good night," Trump calls back.

He leans his head back into Cucurucho as he hears Jeremy's footsteps recede. "...Okay," he says quietly to the Osito, with a weak smile. "I admit it. As humans go, you could've done a lot worse."

Cucurucho doesn't respond.

"Fuck," Trump whispers. "That was really scary."

He clings to Cucurucho like a baby monkey, squeezing his eyes shut and doing his deep breaths.

"When- when we get out of here," he says quietly, like he's telling a secret, "I'm getting you out with us too."

[vintageseawitch]

the most consistent stance jd "okay, good couch lover" vance had been consistent on is his sheer loathing of women, specifically those without children (that some have the "right" bits to carry a fetus but are infertile for whatever reason means nothing to him except they're not "real" women to him i'm sure). to all of us paying attention it's clear he has some serious mommy issues that he should go to therapy for instead of gaining unearned political power (since they will try to cheat to win). i think it goes further than that: i think he not only hates his mother but he has womb envy.

he talks shit about single, childless women, living their lives & being "miserable in their careers" or some such nonsense... but that's exactly what his wife was doing before they got married. then she bore him several children. oh, he freaking HATES that!! he wasn't the one who gave them life, it was a someone who was born with the right equipment & he was sadly not one of them!

between the pics of him in drag thay have been unearthed (maybe he was in costume, who knows), him admitting he once thought he was gay as a child (granted, this was in his book, so take this with a grain of salt... but still), & his relentless messages that he doubles down on with insulting women who are simply living their lives without a man when they could totally be having children right now!! why AREN'T they???? can't you see how miserable they all are???? & that they want us ALL to be miserable, too????

bruh. serious projection there. it's all a confession to me. you're big mad because you want to be the one that gives life so badly but you weren't born with the right bits to do this & since the cosmic odds have made it so billions of other people are born with it instead of him he's now making it everyone's problem. he hates us all for existing & instead of getting psychiatric help with his issues he's instead wanting a repeat of the rise of the Third Reich & all it took was selling whatever bits of a soul he had left for $15 million to a European, gay billionaire who while being married to a man himself ALSO loathes gay people so, you know, like attracts like.

jd vance is stupid, insipid, evil, stands up for nothing so will fall for anything, & weird. he once stated that he's "never been a trump guy" & that trump is "America's Hitler" & instead of standing with the rest of us who are seeing just how horrifying it is, he's on the side to make sure he wins.

trump is clearly falling apart before our very eyes. he's got some serious decline going on there. i think at this point they're expecting him to die & with vance as his vp he will then become president. you think trump was bad, who is only out for himself & saving his own hide, but vance? in deep with the Heritage Foundation & the likes of peter thiel (he looks like the ghoul he truly is) & curtis yarvin (he thinks that people who don't work - & this includes people who simply can't - should be turned into biofuel. he was "just joking" of of course. all sociopathic fascists are when faced like this)? this uncooked weenie of a person who is also really fucking evil will be our president instead. as pathetic as he is he should still be taken seriously. in the end, womb-envy vance is our real problem. his spine is the puppet strings the fascist elite hold him up by. he will sell out his wife & children if it will make his rich daddies happy.

they're evil & they can't win. we need to fucking stop them. please vote!! NEVER STOP TALKING ABOUT PROJECT 2025 OR AGENDA 47. THEY'RE THE SAME PLAN. trump is a fucking liar. he doesn't talk about policy because Project 2025 IS his policy. fuck outta here. check your registration status often especially in blue states. let's fucking do this 💙

[yan-purgatory]

yandere! ateez: you’re talking to another man

request: Yandere mafia ateez reaction to seeing you with another man and being too touchy with them?

admin: ღ

warning: contains graphic content. reader discretion is advised.

Hongjoong:

(Y/N) was sighing and swirling the remnants of red wine in their glass, enjoying their peace and quiet that came with the rare moment of solitude, when they felt someone slide beside them in the booth.

“You shouldn’t be in here. This is for VIPs only.” They warned the person quietly, worried of the consequences that could come with what this man was attempting.

“I’m so out of your league I can’t even buy you a drink?” The man pressed, slinging a hand around (Y/N)’s neck and trying to catch the eye of a waitress. 

“This is for your sake. Please get out of here, before he sees anything.” The man scoffed at their warning, the alcohol in his system trumping all fear.

His pride wasn’t to last long, as a hand snagged his collar and threw him to the ground before a foot pressed into his chest and several guns were held to his face.

“I need to have a talk to Mr Choi. Clearly he’s incomopetent at keeping my possessions safe.” The man of the hour, Hongjoong, seated himself next to (Y/N) who felt a shiver of fear run down their spine upon his arrival.

He pressed a kiss to (Y/N)’s head before turning his attention back to the offender.

“Get rid of him. But do it out of our sight. I don’t want him near my (Y/N) for another second, understood?”

Seonghwa:

“Oh, I should get going.” (Y/N) had guts of steel, to say the least. To have an affair, behind the back of an obsessive mafia leader no less and with one of his men.

“You can’t stay any longer?” Hoseok’s arms hooked around (Y/N)’s waist, pulling them back down onto the bed as they struggled to get dressed.

“Please. I can’t risk anythi-” There was a pounding of footsteps outside the door, before a strong force knocked into it and a group of men burst in.

(Y/N) heart fell to their stomach seeing the guns pointed towards Hoseok before their attention was stolen by Seonghwa striding into the room. 

“You’ve wounded me, my darling. No worries, we’ll fix this.” He pressed their face into his chest before raising his hand, silently giving the order. (Y/N) let out a scream of fear as they headr the gunshots and cry of pain.

“You don’t think I love you enough, right? That’s why you did this?” Seonghwa whispered into their ear. “Let me prove you wrong, darling.”

Yunho:

“Do you understand what you’ve done?” Tears were in (Y/N)’s eyes as the bandage applied to their finger was removed, letting the papercut bleed again. “You don’t talk to anyone else, no matter what.”

“But it was hurting, and you said that you trust Mingi-”

“You always come to me first.” Yunho interrupted them. “You know I don’t like it when you talk to other men, and I don’t care who it is.”

His grip was tightening, causing (Y/N) to wince at the pressure. Yunho ignored their pain, too red with anger. In fact, he pulled out his pocket knife with a grimace and held it up to their arm.

(Y/N) tried to struggle, but his grip was cast iron.

“You’re gonna be more hurt than before, baby. And I’ll be the one to pick up the pieces, okay?”

Yeosang:

Yeosang was waiting for them outside the lecture theatre, as always. Tapping his foot, his patience clearly having been worn thin.

It was when the clock hit quarter past four that (Y/N) finally emerged with their notes tucked under their arm.

“What took you so long?” He asked, his tone endearing but with a sharp edge.

“I’m sorry, I really need some guidance on this topic and professor Park is the expert on the topic.” (Y/N) sighed, taking his hand in their own. Yeosang didn’t smile as he usually did when (Y/N) initiated contact. His mind was plagued with the jealousy rising up - this was the third time this week they’d been late because they needed to talk with their professor.

“You seem to be struggling with this course, my love. Maybe you should drop out?” (Y/N) visibly tensed up.

“I-I-I don’t think that’s necessary-”

“You know that I’ll take care of you. Why do you need a job, when you have me?”

(Y/N) looked hesitant, but seeing the intense look in Yeosang’s eyes they knew he was not in the mood to argue, and slowly they nodded.

It was a very thankful situation that (Y/N) accepted his suggestion. His other solution to his jealousy would be much more savoury.

San:

An array of pictures were splayed out on San’s desk. Each one showing (Y/N) heinous crime of communicating with their cousin. 

“You know I don’t like sharing, baby. I thought I told you not to do this.” He growled.

“I’m sorry.” San smiled, pulling them down to sit on his lap. 

“I can forgive you, baby. Here.” He pressed a lighter into (Y/N)’s hand whilst pushing all the photos into his wastebin. His message was clear enough for them.

They flicked the lighter to life and held it to the photographs, watching as the film warped and crumpled. 

San’s grin only grew as he peppered kisses over (Y/N)’s neck.

“That’s it, baby. And you know what will happen if I see this happen again?” They nodded, fingers still gripping the lighter so tightly that the plastic was starting to crack.

“I’ll slaughter him like a pig. I’ll set him alight and you’ll have to watch him burn to death. And it’ll be all your fault. So you won’t talk to him anymore, right?

Mingi:

There was silence in the small cafe, as everyone took in the scene. The barista, a bullet lodged in his head and blood leaking out from the wound. And Mingi, standing over the poor man with the smoking pistol still in his hand.

“Do you have their order?” His attention was diverted to the other barista, who had a coffee cup clutched in her hands that were trembling so badly the liquid was starting to spill onto her hands.

“Y-y-yes sir.” She placed it down into front of the shell-shocked (Y/N). They’d known that Mingi has savoury reactions to them talking to other men, but this was a whole other level.

“Good. We’re leaving.” Mingi snatched (Y/N)’s hand up in a huff. “I hope this coffee was worth more than that vermin’s life to you.”

He turned to address the rest of the witnesses.

“If anyone squeals, you’ll be next.”

Wooyoung:

“A beautiful angel like yourself shouldn’t be all alone in such a scary place.” A deep voice shocked (Y/N) out of their daze. Wooyoung had gone off to speak with one of his partners in private, unintentionally leaving (Y/N) all alone.

“Oh! I’m with Jung Woo Young.”

The stranger frowned, stepping closer and taking ahold of their face to admire it.

“And how did he secure such a treasure?”

“I’d appreciate it if you stepped away from my spouse, Mr Kim.” Wooyoung had returned and instantly attached himself to (Y/N)’s side. “Unless you want to be dragged away, that is.”

His eyes flickered to (Y/N).

“I’m sorry I was gone for so long, but I was thinking about you for every second of it.” 

Wooyoung pressed his lips to (Y/N)’s hungrily, his gaze sliding over to stare down the other man triumphantly as he deepened it.

As soon as he broke away, he moved to whisper in (Y/N)’s ear.

“I’m not leaving your side again for even a second, baby. No one else can claim what is mine, right?”

Jongho:

(Y/N) rarely got to see family, not with Jongho breathing down their neck nearly every day of the week. Luckily, he was occupied for the day and (Y/N) had seemingly escaped the watchful gaze of his right hand man, enabling them to visit their brother for the first time in months. 

All they did was take a walk in the nearby park, chatting about how life was going although (Y/N) tactfully chose to leave Jongho out of all conversations. Finally they gave their brother a hug as they said goodbye, the first time they’d done that with a man who wasn’t Jongho for goodness knows how long.

They decided to take a detour before returning home, hoping that if they had been caught sneaking out by Jongho they would have a valid excuse of buying some chocolate. But it wasn’t enough.

(Y/N) returned home, only to find the door unlocked. They let out a breath, rehearsing their lines in their head. ‘I just wanted a snack, I’m sorry.’

They found him in the kitchen. Stood above the brother they’d seen only an hour ago, tied to a chair and missing a few of his fingers.

“You thought you could pull the wool over my eyes?” Jongho growled. “You know damn well what happens to anyone who touches you without my permission.”

[ask-fantasy-sanders-sides]

So, wait, toes Remus know that Virgil is a dragon too?? if he does, did Virgil tell him or did he just figure it out?

It wasn’t too long after their escape from the prison complex that Remus got irritated.

He didn’t regret dragging the strange assassin along — after all, Remus probably wouldn't have been able to escape without him — but he was getting more and more frustrated with his lack of response to...well, anything.

Remus has attempted more than once to scare and/or gross the stranger out with diatribes of gore and violence, but that hasn't phased him at all. Really, Remus thinks he probably should have expected that response from a dark-elven warrior, but it was a little jarring to have his usual monologues accepted with little more than a cursory glare. It didn't help that he had to speak to the soldier in the goblin language, which neither of them knew well enough to share many complex ideas.

Then, there were his rages. Remus wasn't really himself in that state, and he knew he was quite the sight to those who had never heard of a barbarian. He's pretty sure that if he had some foggy awareness of the assassin being disgusted or even mildly intrigued by his berserk mode, he would have remembered them. As it stands, nothing.

Then, there was his trump card: The first time Remus let out his true form and went berserk on a few guards, the assassin barely even noticed the difference. Remus dismissed it at the time, assuming they had just been busy doing their thing and hadn’t seen him do it. But, as they were sneaking away from the castle spires the next day and he had to dispose of some noble-looking witnesses, Remus definitely saw the assassin look at his wings.

Still he made absolutely no reaction! He doesn’t seem to react to much of anything, unless he’s being mad at Remus for yelling too loud or missing a swing. Admittedly, being able to spark annoyance in the stuck-up soldier is a little fun, but even his moments of anger are few and far between.

This is the first and only time someone has seen Remus’s kick-ass undead angel wings and not had a damn thing to say about it, and Remus can honestly say he hates it.

So, now that they’re finally outside of the Colony walls (and Remus doesn’t have to worry about the assassin chewing him out for making a scene,) Remus smirks deviously at the unsuspecting drow.

“Hey! Watch this,” Remus shouts, then closes his eyes to focus.

He reaches deep inside himself to connect with that boiling mass of discordant energy — a frothing core of divine light that’s spoiling rotten and necrotic, burning away the mold, healing, and then spoiling again, over and over with each beat of his two hearts. As he’s practiced ever since he was a child, Remus grabs that energy and pulls it out, dismissing a weight in his stomach that he hardly notices until it's time to let go.

The instinctual protective glamor that hides his true form dissolves in the firelight of his true essence, as bone-like angel wings, void-like eyes, and a tidal wave of smoke pour out of Remus like air from a popped balloon. A sickly green glow outlines his irises, his scars, and emblazons the emblem of a sword over his chest. He can feel it as the energy unfurls, how the world spins and sears into focus, how his senses grow sharp and breathing is suddenly so much easier than it’s ever been before. This is what he truly is, how he really looks, and it is a figure that strikes fear and awe in every creature who has the misfortune of seeing it.

All except one. Apparently.

The assassin simply stares at Remus, stone-still as Remus’s whole fucked up magical girl cutscene plays out point-blank in front of him. The fear-inducing necrotic gas rolls past the assassin's feet and into his lungs, but nothing happens. A few seconds pass, and he still hasn’t moved, but he’s clearly not gone into shock or anything of the kind.

Eventually, the assassin gets the impression that Remus is expecting a response. So, he cocks his hip out to one side and folds his arms, mimicking the facial expression that he’s gathered humans make when they’re confused: a pointed eyebrow raise.

(Given his usual glowering expression, it comes across more like sass.)

The minute passes, and though Remus feels the smoke dissipate and his eyes and scars return to normal with a sinking feeling in his gut, the wings remain. Instead of dismissing them, Remus throws his arms out wide with a growl,

“Seriously? That’s it? You’re not scared!”

“Scared?” The assassin parrots lowly.

A wide smile stretches across his lightly-freckled face. In the space of a blink he’s behind Remus, gently peeling the barbarian’s tattered shirt away to get a better look at the base of his wings.

He lays one ice-cold hand against the divot between them, touching him clinically, like he’s trying to figure out how solid Remus's wings are. His hand smooths gently across the stump where flesh gives way to semi-transparent bone before Remus's brain catches up. He shrieks and jumps away from him,

“What the shit are you doing?!” Remus squeaks, eyes wide as saucers. He would be more embarrassed by how absolutely unthreatening he sounds right now if he didn’t still feel the shape of that hand on him like a brand.

(He decides that this is more because of the supernatural nature of his wings, and not because Remus hasn't been touched that carefully by another person since he was like eleven. He doesn’t have time to unpack that feeling whatsoever.)

“You told me to look.” The assassin teases, openly laughing at Remus’s expense.

Then, — and Remus could swear he’s doing it slowly just to make sure Remus sees him — the soldier takes a deep exhale, and his purple eye flashes a soft glow. Suddenly, his body evaporates until he is a cloud of shadowy smoke. This smoke quickly blends in with the surrounding darkness of the cavern, and before Remus can get a word in edgewise, the assassin has re-solidified and is poking his back again.

“StoOOP TOuching me!” Remus yelps and spins around to face him, face red as blood and hands up in a defensive position, “Since when could you do that?!”

The assassin rolls his eyes at this, his hands falling to his sides. Now he takes a moment to think, before reaching down to untie his dagger belt and pull his tunic loose.

“What are you doing?” Remus protests louder, covering his eyes with his hands.

The assassin doesn’t respond.

Though he’s reciting curses in his head and trying very hard to respect this stranger’s privacy, Remus’s curiosity quickly gets the better of him.

He peeks out between his fingers to find the soldier shirtless, his white hair parted and pulled over his shoulders. He looks up at Remus with a completely unimpressed stare.

The assassin reaches out to grab one of Remus’s hands, then turns to show Remus his back.

Remus stares for a moment, eyes tracing the thin, ragged lines of a latticework of scars. They stretch across and around the assassin’s back, some older and some deeper. Most seem to have been inflicted by animals or monsters rather than weapons.

Remus feels no sense of pity at the display — he’s got his own patchwork of scars and his own complicated relationship to them, but over all he sees them more as a mark of survival, as stories to tell. But, he is definitely curious, and his mile-a-minute brain is already spinning outrageous tales to match each and every mark.

Then the assassin guides his hand up towards the top of his back, just alongside his spine. The skin there feels leathery, and significantly warmer than the skin of the elf’s hand, though the heat seems to be emanating from someplace lower on his spine. It’s also slightly off-color, a bit lighter than the skin around it. Whatever this is, this scar is old.

Remus traces the outline of it up, then off to the side as it tapers to a thin line between his shoulder and the base of his neck. The assassin’s ears twitch at the gesture, and Remus’s hand flinches away.

He turns to look at Remus over his shoulder, his neutral grimace returned.

“We are the same. Shadow and wings. You are kitrye'maelthra, right?”

“I don’t know what that is.” Remus frowns, always frustrated when the assassin sneaks an elven word or two into their rare conversations,

“I’m not super good at reading energies, but you don’t feel like an angel… You have wings??”

“No.” He frowns, his gaze becoming soft and distant, “Not anymore.”

“Oh.” Remus sighs, now reeling at the possibilities.

What sort of dark elf grows wings, and how can they be removed? He winces at the phantom pain to his own wings as he parcels through every guess. Did a monster tear them off? The scar was so smooth, it seemed more like they had been burned away with acid. Did he fall into the pit of a living ooze, or maybe it was a punishment from some cruel cultist—

“Yours are broken.” The assassin pries, still staring at him while Remus zoned out.

“Broken? No they're not!”

“You have no skin.” The assassin remarks, like that should have been obvious, “And you look like a ghost.”

“Wait, skin? Like a bat?” Remus laughs, imagining it. He shakes his head, “I’m not supposed to have skin! —Well, I mean, I am, but also feathers. Y’know, like a bird?”

“Bird?” The assassin repeats, like he doesn’t understand the word. He probably doesn’t, goddamn Underdark.

“...Ehh, forget about it. I’ll show you one when we get up there.” Remus shakes his head.

The assassin pulls his tunic back up and re-ties it. While he waits, a sudden thought knocks Remus out of his gruesome imaginings.

He thinks he probably shouldn’t ask, but it takes him all of three seconds to snap and say it anyway,

“Hey,” Remus hums offhandedly, like he’s not extremely invested in knowing the answer, “If you could ‘go ghost’ or whatever this whole time, why didn’t you just poof yourself out of that cell?”

(“And why did you stay to help me?” Remus refuses to add, because he is not that attached to his little stray-criminal monsterboy, goddamnit. He refuses.)

The assassin doesn’t answer or turn back to him, simply staring off in the direction of their path.

Remus huffs and rolls his eyes,

“Fine, damn, keep your secrets. Bet you just can’t hold it that long~”

“Don’t xhandal me, lotha mal'dhalaruk. Usstan orn da'urzotreth dosst et'zarreth.”

“Again, I do not know what the fuck that is.”

[sohotthateveryonedied]

I’ll Make a Million Mistakes

Read here on AO3!

Summary:

“Don’t worry,” Dick says, throwing his arm around Duke’s shoulders. “Everyone in this room has had their teeth knocked out at one point or another. It’s a rite of passage around here.”

“I don’t know how to tell you thith, but that doethn’t happen to normal people. We acthually prefer to keep our teeth, believe it or not.”

“Wait until you get your first major battle scar. Trust me, they’re cool.”

“Y’all need Jethuth.”

Bruce likes to think of himself as a patient man. Even more, he’d like to think it’s a trait he earned all on his own, but anyone who’s met him would testify that he inherited his patience from the man who raised him, and Bruce would have to agree. This level of restraint he possesses is an acquired skill—one that is reserved for the world’s best butlers and for fathers of six. Karen from the PTA wishes she were on Bruce’s level. His exceedingly calm temperament is the only reason Bruce doesn’t melt into a puddle on the ground now, his bones turning into a milky froth because Jesus fucking Christ, hasn’t he had a hard enough night as it is? No person should have to spend two hours solving riddles because Eddie was feeling manic tonight and then be forced to come home to human children. Duke smiles around a mouthful of bloody gauze. “In my defenth, I’ve never even had a cavity before.” “No, you just got your tooth knocked out.” “Teeth.” “What?” “Ith acthually teeth, plural. I lotht two of them.” Bruce facepalms. “Goddamn it.” He ignores the giggles from his other kids, all of whom apparently decided they needed to be present for this conversation. He’s picking his battles tonight.

“Ith not my fault!” Duke points over at Tim, standing against the Batcave’s wall minding his own business. “Ith hith fault.” “It is not. Bruce, don’t listen to him.” “Oh, yeah? Who knocked me into the railing in the firtht plathe?” “That was Jason’s fault. He’s the one who threw the football.” “Actually,” Jason chimes in, “that was Cass. I was an innocent bystander.” “Liar,” Cass says. “Don’t call me a liar.” “Liar.” “You’re the liar. She’s framing me, Bruce, I swear to god. I’ve never done anything wrong to my siblings in my entire life.” Dick makes a spluttering noise. “You once threw a pineapple at my head because I was breathing too loudly!” “And I don’t regret it one bit.” Bruce sighs. He doesn’t have the energy for this. He gently grasps Duke’s chin, being mindful of his sore jaw. “Where?” Duke pulls out the wad of gauze and opens his mouth wide. He points at the space where his front tooth used to be, then a canine on the bottom left which now consists of half a white shard. “Ith thith one and thith one.” Bruce hums. “I can get you a dentist appointment tomorrow afternoon. They’ll put a couple of caps in and you’ll be good as new.” He’ll have to rearrange a few things in his schedule. At least now he has a valid excuse to skip racquetball with Clark. There is no logical reason a bumpkin from Kansas should be better at racquetball than Bruce is, there just isn’t. “Tho my thmile ithn’t permanently ruined? Thath a relief. Thethe babieth are my betht feature,” he says, all the while bloody saliva dribbles from his lip like a deranged vampire. Best feature, definitely. “Don’t worry,” Dick says, throwing his arm around Duke’s shoulders. “Everyone in this room has had their teeth knocked out at one point or another. It’s a rite of passage around here.” “I don’t know how to tell you thith, but that doethn’t happen to normal people. We acthually prefer to keep our teeth, believe it or not.” “Wait until you get your first major battle scar. Trust me, they’re cool.” “Y’all need Jethuth.” “At least it’ll make for a good story one day,” Tim says. “Everyone loves scar stories.” Jason snorts. “People actually like death stories more, but go off I guess.” “Nobody cares that you died, Jay. Find new material.” “You want new material? Check this out.” Jason tugs down the collar of his sweater. He shows off the mostly-faded autopsy scar sliced up his torso and to his shoulders. Bruce winces. Dick yawns. “So? You got autopsied. Big whoop. Scars don’t count if you’re dead when you get them.” He tips his head down, parts a section of his hair with his fingers to show off the fresh scar on his scalp. “Talk to me when you get shot in the head.” Tim rolls his eyes. “You realize how stupid this is, right? We shouldn’t be arguing about who has the worst bodily trauma.” “Why,” Jason says, “because you know you’d lose?” “Because I’ve got you both beat.” He pulls up his t-shirt to display the surgical scar on his abdomen. “Missing spleen. Beat that.” “I lost a kidney. Kidney trumps spleen any day.” Cass rolls up the leg of her shorts to show off her bullet-riddled thigh. “Connect the dots. I win.” “But have you lost a vital organ?” Tim asks. “No.” “Spleens aren’t that vital,” Dick says. “Fuck off, at least you still have one.” “I would prefer to keep my organth,” Duke says. “Juth thaying.” “And you will,” Bruce assures him. “Probably.” “Probably?” “Look, I’m tired. We’re all tired. Can we schedule the scar contest for a later time when I’m hopefully not here to witness it?” Maybe he can ask Alfred to drug his tea from now on. At least then he can rest easy in a drug-induced slumber, knowing all the while that he’s missing the kind of petty arguments no parent should have to hear. “No one said you had to be here,” Dick says. “Anyway, Bane once slammed me against a wall and now my hip throbs when it rains.” “At least your wrist doesn’t click when you move it at the right angle.” Jason shakes his wrist next to Tim’s ear. Tim cringes. “You’re all amateurs,” a new voice says, and Bruce wants to die. Damian and Stephanie appear to have returned from patrol, still in their uniforms. “Try having your entire spine replaced.” Tim wrinkles his nose. “Great, it’s time to hear Damian talk about how much better than us he is. My favorite activity.” “Shut up, Drake. You’ve never experienced pain.” “I got blown up once! I still have burn scars all over my neck and shoulders!” “Eh. I’ve had worse.” Steph grins and holds up her left hand, just happy to be included. (Note to self: ponder whether Stephanie is secretly a golden retriever in human form.) “I have no feeling in these three fingers.” She pokes them to demonstrate. “And should I mention that I was tortured by Black Mask once? No? Because power tools were involved, in case anyone was wondering.” “Do I need to reiterate that I once died in an explosion?” “Jason. Little wing. I’m begging you to shut up about your death.” Cass points to a spot on her ribcage. “Two ribs made of metal. Got shattered during a fight. Four years old.” “My dad used to burn me with cigarettes every time I was bad, so...seven times a week, more or less.” “Oh, same!” Jason and Steph high-five. “My grandfather broke my arm in two places when I made a mistake during a training drill. He made me fight assassins for three hours straight afterward without so much as an ice pack.” Duke looks horrified. “Are you guyth okay?” “No offense, but none of you should talk unless you’ve gone through childbirth.” Stephanie rolls up the top portion of her Batgirl suit just enough to show off the scar across her lower belly. “You think getting blown up is hard? Try spending three hours in labor and having a baby ripped out of you. That’s hard.” Jason wipes away a fake tear. “Boo-hoo, someone had a baby when she was a teenager. Human reproduction doesn’t involve being beaten to death with a crowbar.” “Nobody cares that you died, Jason!” “Indeed,” Damian agrees. “Being stabbed by your clone is far worse than being caught in a little explosion. And I can take a crowbar beating in my sleep.” “I’m gonna kill him, Bruce. I’ll kill him right now. Just say the word and I’ll do it.” Bruce sighs, closing his eyes. “Duke, there are painkillers in the medicine cabinet if you need them. I’ll text you the time of your dentist appointment. The rest of you, please refrain from talking to me for the rest of the night.” Bruce walks away toward the manor, silently praying that he can forget this conversation ever happened. “Hey, who wants to see where Killer Croc bit my ass once?”

[captainmarvels]

wicked games [25]

Summary: Time is frozen in place as shit hits the fan. Can this be undone? Or is it too late?

Pairing: CEO!Tom Holland x fem!Reader

Word Count: 1837

Warnings: Swearing and infidelity; blackmail

Author’s Note: A NEW UPDATE!!!!! Sorry for the long wait but I hope this chapter is worth it! This chapter is also mainly from Harrison’s POV so I hope you enjoy! also: @rocketman-s​ is the alpha in this bitch

wicked games masterlist

The setting sun showered the living room in orange and pink hues. An empty wine glass sat alone on the coffee table, condensation dripping down the sides.

“What is taking them so long?” 

You were pacing back and forth in front of the TV, your footfalls thudding quietly against the hardwood floors. Mary was sitting on the couch, face in her hands.

“It does not take this long to get back from-”

“Patience, love. We’ll hear the elevator any second now, I’m sure-”

As if she had manifested the sound herself, the elevator bell announcing an arrival rang out through the silent apartment. 

You ran to the foyer, where you greeted with an all-too familiar smile.

“Darling,” Tom whispered as you ran into his arms, tears already streaming down your cheeks.

“I… It wasn’t me, I swear.” You managed to get out between the sobs racking your body. Your knees gave out as your emotions rolled over you, and Tom held onto you tightly as you both fell to the ground. 

“Shh, I know, love, I know…” His hands ran up and down your back, his touch drawing you back as you tried to control your breathing.

“Tom…” Harrison’s trembling voice echoed around you. 

Tom helped you to your feet, his hands never leaving you as he turned to look at his best friend.

The look they shared sent a shiver down your spine.

“You said you had some explaining to do. Well?” Tom’s grip was tight on your waist, the grimace on his face showing no remorse.

“Why don’t we make ourselves more comfortable before Haz’s confession, hm?” Mary was leaning against the wall, her gaze never straying from Tom as the three of you made your way to the living room. Tom let go as he paused in front of Mary. You could barely make what he said to her.

“Thank you. For being here when I couldn’t.” Mary simply shook her head, giving him a pat on the arm before she passed the threshold.

“Ready to confess to your sins, Osterfield?”

You followed her as she sat down on the couch, but Tom maintained his distance, opting to stand behind you as he glared at Harrison.

“Haz,” You said. “What’s going on?” 

Harrison wringed his hands, his gaze falling from Tom to the floor as he steadied his breathing. 

“I want… to preface this by saying, I didn’t think anything would come of it, I really didn’t.”

“Spit it out, already.” Tom said, venom lacing his words.

“Dom knows about you two. I… it slipped out a few weeks ago, but I never meant for anything to happen because of it, you have to believe me. I was convinced he had already figured it somehow and if he already knew, what was the harm in confirming it, right?” Sweat was beading up across Harrison’s forehead, his lips quivering as he met your gaze. 

You didn’t know what to think.

But you knew how he’d react. 

“Tom,” You whipped your head back, your hands grabbing his before he could move. The fury clouding his eyes was not a good sign. 

“Tom…” You whispered, your eyes threatening to well up. “Look at me.”

“Fucking…” He took a deep breath, his eyes falling to meet yours as his jaw clenched. “How could… how could you do this? You…” 

“Please,” Harrison whined. “You know me, mate. You know I wouldn’t do this if it weren’t…”

“That doesn’t make this hurt any less, Harrison. We promised him. Promised.”

Mary’s voice did not waver as she stared at her friend. But doubt clouded her gaze as she spoke.

“Nothing trumps that. And you know that better than anyone.”

“I know, Mary. But I can…” Harrison dropped his gaze to the floor once more, his hands fidgeting with the cuffs of his jacket.

Tom’s hands were still in yours, and you refused to let him go, even when you heard Harrison walk away without another word.

“Don’t. Tom, please…” You cupped his face, his gaze protesting yours as you both heard the elevator doors open.

“I can’t... “ Tom whispered, a tear gracing his eyelashes. 

I can’t do this.

-------

Harrison’s fingers thrummed against the steering wheel, his breathing shallow as he drove past the painstakingly familiar iron-wrought gates. His phone screen was lit up, texts from you and Mary filling up his notifications as he made his way down the winding driveway. Once he pulled up to the main door, he turned the engine off and ran an anxious hand through his hair.

I can fix this.

That’s what Harrison had wanted to say to Tom. But he couldn’t get the damn words off his tongue. 

I can fix this.

He would regret betraying Tom like this forever, but he knew he had to do this. It was long overdue.

The front door swung open as Harrison made his way up the stone steps, his hands growing clamier with every second. 

“Such an odd time for a visit. Didn’t think to call ahead, Osterfield?” Dom’s voice made Harrison wince as the door shut behind him. 

“Figured you would try and avoid me if I did. Best to be prepared,” He retorted, his voice wavering under pressure.

“And to what do I owe… the pleasure of your company?” Dom sneered, chuckling under his breath as Harrison began to fidget with his hands.

“You can’t keep doing this.” 

Dom’s gaze flitted up, amusement dancing in his eyes. 

“Keep doing what, exactly? Use your words, Harrison.” 

“You can’t keep fucking with Tom. You’ve done more than enough damage, as it is.”

“And who do you think you are to tell me what to do, hm? You think you can come into MY home and tell me-”

Pulling out his phone, Harrison stopped Dom right in his tracks as he flashed the screen at him.

“You seem to forget who receives all the company emails, and can see every staff member’s activity. These look familiar to you, sir?”

Harrison swiped through his email screenshots, a look of horror crossing over Dom’s features as he realized what he was looking at.

“How did-”

“It seems this… woman forgot to send these emails to your personal account, sir. There are quite a few… inappropriate messages and, well… certainly some not safe for work photographs attached as well, it appears.” Harrison pulled the phone out of Dom’s grasp as he met the man’s aggressive stare. “I wonder what Nikki would have to say about this…”

Dom was seething, and Harrison had never felt as powerful as he did in that moment.

“Very clever, Osterfield. Looks like you have picked up a thing or two from your time working with me.”

Listen to me, Dom. You and I both know what this will do to your marriage if Nikki finds out. But I can make it all disappear… if you do as I say.”

Dom moved to speak, but Harrison glared at him.

“I am still speaking. Tom is more than worthy of this company, and that shouldn’t even be something up for debate because he has proved himself over and over again, only for you to be a complete arse who took advantage of his emotionally unstable son with addiction issues. You could’ve helped him, but instead you used him, as if he were nothing more than a pawn in your game.” Harrison could feel the pent up anger starting to spill over as he continued.

“The boy needed to learn a lesson, Harrison. You’re not a father - you don’t know it’s like to see your child amount to nothing when you have given them everything! I needed to know he would take the situation seriously -”

“You are no father to him, Dom. You have been abusing and using Tom for years, and you want to claim that as parenting? All that you have put him through made him the way he is, but he is better now. Better than I’ve ever fucking seen him.”

“Don’t talk to me about my children-”

“Shut up, for Christ’s sake. I don’t need to hear your pathetic excuses. You already know what I have on you. Make sure the case is dropped and your ‘testimony’ is wiped from the record. And while we’re at it, I’m going to need you to rewrite the terms of Tom’s trust.”

Dom paled at Harrison’s words; sweat slowly rolling down his forehead as he stammered on his words.

“What about Tom’s trust?”

“Write yourself out of the terms. Terminate all conditions of the trust, and remove the company from the living trust’s properties. Tom wants the trust commandeered under his name. He is not a child, Dominic. And I will not allow you to continue ruining his life. You are done controlling him.”

“Those conditions are a fail-safe, and you know it just as well as I that Tom is not fit for CEO.”

“We’ll cross that bridge if we get there. But, I believe in him. Besides - Tom has the full support of the board behind him,”

“The board knows?” Dom’s eyes widened at the news. “I haven’t spoken to them-”

Harrison smiled. “They were briefed on the situation this afternoon, behind closed doors. It’s in the by-laws, Dom. Should an interim CEO be declared without board approval, the board can deliberate and either support the interim, or have the replaced individual return, under their own conditions. You have no say on that. The twins were removed from company premises just after I arrived here, I believe” Harrison checked his watch, noting the hour before meeting Dom’s gaze of disbelief.

“You son of a-”

“Save the pleasantries for later. The board wants to meet with you first thing tomorrow morning; they are concerned about the actions taken behind their backs. I would be more careful, if I were you.”

Harrison began to head for the door.

“And if I don’t follow through?”

Harrison paused, a shadow crossing over his features as he turned.

“If the trust’s attorneys do not hear from you in 24 hours, they are prepared to have you served and due in court before the end of the week. I wouldn’t want to delay any of your ventures for… personal reasons. Besides,” Harrison continued as he grasped the front door’s handle. 

“I have some mail for Nikki that’s scheduled to arrive in the morning if I don’t receive confirmation from the attorneys and police.”

“She knew this was coming.”

Harrison paused. “Who?” He asked, his voice barely a whisper.

“The girl. I tried to convince her into signing the document herself… for his sake. She refused, but I knew she wouldn’t breathe a word of what happened to either of you. Don’t forget; Tom isn’t the only one involved in this, boy. You can’t protect them both.” Harrison’s grip on the door handle tightened, his knuckles turning stark white as he shook his head. A small, dark chuckle escaped him.

“I look forward to hearing from you. Have a nice night, Dominic.”

-----

tags: 

@cherrynat​​ @anytimebitches​​  @jobean12-blog​​ @emotchalla​​ @illletitgrow​​ @cloverrover​​ @justaveryobsessedfangirl​​ @ssweet-empowerment​​ @killmongerdreams​​ @spideytrxsh​​ @eyestheyseeyou​​ @aussie-mantle​​ @spidergirlwanab​​ @i-think-i-am-adorable​​ @amanda51015-blog​​​ @princessskylarsblog​​​ @whoneedsalifeanyhowxx​​​ @chinalois​​​ @darkerthanspace​​​ @slighttinsomniac​​​ @curlytomholland​​​ @wanderlustomaha​​​ @hollandazing​​​ @mendes-marvel​​​ @wowspideyholland​​​ @shelivesin-daydreams​ @tellurfriends​

[pterodactylterrace]

Guys Like You Chapter 7

Title: Guys Like You

Chapter: 7

Chapter Summary: Just an ordinary Sunday

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Smut. Alcohol consumption. 

{Prologue} {Chapter 1} {Chapter 2} {Chapter 3} {Chapter 4} {Chapter 5} {Chapter 6}

Just an ordinary Sunday. An ordinary Sunday with nothing special about it what so ever. Just your average, everyday, run of the mill Sunday.

Oh, except for that 'date' Faye had been freaking out about for days now. She was acting like a teenager again, and worst still, she knew she was. Should she do something special with her hair? Should she bother with makeup? What if she ended up getting a surprise pimple? Most importantly, what was she supposed to wear? Would it be weird to just show up in regular clothes, or would it be weirder to show up over dressed? Sure, she could actually ask him like a reasonable adult, but she refused to admit ignorance of what dating looked like anymore, so here she was, an hour before she was supposed to leave, staring at her closet in absolute terror and confusion.

There was one last resource she hadn't tapped into just yet. Her trump card. Possibly her last line of defense to keep from looking like an idiot. Or more like an idiot, depending on how you look at the situation.

"Briar!"

"Mommy, why you nakie?" Briar giggled as she came toddling into the room at top speed, wrapping her arms around her mother's leg.

"I'm not nakie, I have my underwear on." Faye pointed out, rolling her eyes. This child of hers. "Do you wanna pick out what Mommy wears when we go see Henry?"

"Yes, yes, yes!" Briar gasped, hurrying over to her mother's closet and surveying the items hung up. "This one's pretty!" Briar gasped, grabbing the skirt of one of the dresses hung up. All in all, not a bad pick. Casual enough to not look like she was trying too hard, nice enough that she didn't look like a slob. Briar to the rescue, once again. Now the only problem was getting it on. This particular dress was backless with a litany of different ties crossing each other to make it fit just right. She hadn't worn this dress since she'd moved across the ocean. Now she didn't have her trusty siblings to help her get it on right, and Briar didn't know how to tie anything.

It took some doing, a lot of wiggling, and a bit of compromise as far as fit went, but she did eventually get it on. She tossed a denim jacket on to keep her back somewhat warm, deciding to quit while she was ahead and leave before she continued fussing with her appearance even more. She had her daughter, dressed in a little tulle dress with her hair up in pigtails. As far as Faye was concerned, she had everything she needed.

Henry greeted her at the door with a brilliant smile, a button up that was crying for mercy and the smell of something delicious wafting from the kitchen.

"Kal!" Briar squealed, rushing past Henry to hug the fluffy dog.

"It's great to finally have you over." Henry greeted, pulling Faye in for a hug as soon as she crossed the threshold.

"Thank you for inviting us." Faye responded, stealthily breathing him in as she returned his affectionate gesture. Why did this man have to smell so good?

"Dinner should be done soon."

"It smells great. I didn't know you could cook."

"Well I didn't expect you to cook anything. Not after that baking disaster." Henry teased, raising a brow at her.

"Hey now, cooking and baking are two different things. Baking is a science. Cooking is an art."

"Is that just a nice way of saying you can't follow directions?"

"How very rude of you, sir. Throwing my inability to follow directions at me."

"May I take your jacket? Or are the directions for removing it too complicated?"

"So very mean." Faye grumbled, letting her jacket slide off her shoulders and passing it off.

"Oh, now that's a doozy." Henry murmured to himself, tilting his head and gently skimming his fingers over the artwork covering her back.

"That's my big one." Faye chuckled, turning more to let him get a better look.

"I'm looking forward to uncovering more." Henry whispered in her ear, gently squeezing her shoulders and sliding past her to hang her jacket up. That fucking tease.

Faye scooped Briar up and followed her nose to the kitchen, snooping around to see what was cooking. A few different pots and pans were on the stove, and something was cooking away in the oven. She curiously cracked the oven door open and looked in, groaning softly at the smell of roasting meat. Faye jumped when she felt a hand on her hip, the oven door snapping shut as she turned to see Henry's amused face looking down at her.

"Are you ladies having fun?"

"Brockey?" Briar asked hopefully, reaching over for Henry to take her.

"I didn't forget your favorite." Henry chuckled, taking the toddler in one arm and reaching for the chopped vegetable on the nearby cutting board with the other. "Now I don't have princess plates, but the table is all set if you two would like to have a seat." He instructed, passing the placated toddler back to her mother.

Faye seated her daughter first, shaking her head when she saw three wine glasses, two already filled with wine, one holding what appeared to be chocolate milk.

"I take it the milk is for Briar?"

"If she won't drink it, I will." Henry shrugged, shooting Faye a cheeky grin over his shoulder.

Faye seated herself next to her daughter, smoothing her dress beneath herself and trying not to fidget. Just because she was nervous, didn't mean she had to act nervous, right? Maybe a  few sips of wine would help settle her nerves.

Three glasses of wine and one amazing meal later, Faye found herself sitting on Henry's couch, My Little Pony playing in the background to keep the half asleep toddler entertained while his fingers drew light patterns along her shoulders and arms. Her head rested on his shoulder, reluctantly forcing herself to break the domestic spell they found themselves trapped in.

"It's getting late." Faye pointed out, shifting her head to look up at her host. "We should probably get going."

"I'm not so sure you should be driving." Henry pointed out gently, glancing at her almost empty glass of wine.

"Gonna drive us home, then?" Faye giggled, nuzzling against his shoulder.

"Why don't you two just stay here for the night? Briar is already about to fall asleep on the rug." Henry chuckled, nodding toward the half asleep child on the floor.

"I didn't exactly plan on a sleep over."

"I have a spare room."

"Briar still has accidents, though. I don't want her ruining your mattress. Wait... I think I still have some diapers in the car!" Faye gasped, her eyes lighting up.

"I'll run out and get them, where are your keys?"

"In my jacket." Faye mumbled after a second of thinking, scooting over to allow Henry to stand.

After Faye woke up the toddler and got her changed, Henry scooped the little girl up, carrying her down the hall to the spare room to tuck her in, plugging in the night light he'd bought when he'd learned about her fear of the dark. He hadn't ever exactly planned on them staying over just yet, but thought it best to take precautions to keep the child placated and in her own room if they ever did stay over.

"Now, where were we?" Faye purred after he had pulled the door closed, wrapping her arms around his thick neck and leaning up on her tip toes to kiss at his jawline, her fingers toying with the hairs at the back of his neck.

"Faye, slow down." Henry chuckled, gently taking her elbows and moving her back.

"You don't want to?" Faye asked softly, uncertainty and insecurity written all over her face, tugging harshly at Henry's heart. This definitely wasn't how he planned on this night going.

"Shh, no tears." He soothed, wiping at the moisture she didn't even know was collecting in her eyes. Even though she had braced herself for rejection around every corner, she still found her heart breaking at the reality of it. She knew better than to get her hopes up. She had told herself time and time again not to even entertain the idea, but their last evening together on her couch continued echoing hope in her mind.

"I-I'm so sorry." Faye excused herself, pulling further away from him, looking away to hide her flushed face.

"Hey, no." Henry corrected, pulling her in close again. "Faye, I want this. I want you. Believe me, I really do, but not like this."

"What do you mean?" Faye sniffled softly, still not looking up at him, settling for resting her head against his chest.

"You're not even fit to drive right now, Faye. I'd only be taking advantage of you." Henry explained, gently running his fingers up and down her spine. "And I'm not going to do that."

"What if I just jump you then?" Faye pouted, her hand sliding up his thick thigh, feeling  emboldened by his admission.

"Then I'd say it's a good thing I'm a big boy that can take care of myself." Henry chuckled, grabbing her hand and lacing their fingers together.

"So you won't let me have any fun?" She pouted, finally turning her face to look up at him.

"Not like this. We'll see how you feel in the morning. Now let's get you off to bed." With that he scooped her up, chuckling at her grumbled of protest as he carried her down the hall to his bedroom, her complaints about being able to walk falling on deaf ears.

"But I'm not tired." Faye yawned as her final act of unconvincing defiance, cuddling into his chest as he pushed the door open.

"I'm sure you aren't, but it's getting late." Henry soothed, setting her down on the edge of the bed to rummage though his drawers to find her something to wear. Surely she wouldn't enjoy sleeping in her dress, no matter how beautifully it hugged every curve.

"Come on, let's get this off." Henry encouraged, tugging at the hem of her dress.

"Oh, change your mind?" Faye giggled, wiggling her eyebrows at him.

"No, I just don't think this is too comfortable to sleep in." Henry chuckled, helping her to her feet and turning her around to better access the ties holding her dress in place.

"Wait." Faye suddenly protested.

"What's wrong?" His hands, froze, his eyes snapping up to look at the back of her head.

"I'm not wearing a bra." Faye mumbled, wrapping her arms around herself in a hug. Of course, now she's shy. How was this the same girl that was trying to grope him not ten minutes earlier?

"Promise I won't look." Henry chuckled, shaking his head at his fickle house guest as he finished untying her dress, Faye reluctantly letting it fall away, all the while feeling she should have asked him to turn the lights off first. She quickly grabbed the shirt off the edge of the bed and pulled it on, glancing over her shoulder to find he had turned around, eyes averted to the wall as he waited, just like he promised.

"Thank you." Faye mumbled, tugging at the hem of the shirt, wishing it were just a little longer. "You know, I'm not that drunk." She tried one last time. "I'm tipsy at best."

"It still wouldn't be right." Henry shrugged, moving around her to pull down the blankets and gently usher her into bed.

"Wait, you are staying with me, right?" Faye half yawned, turning her big doe like eyes up to him.

"I don't know, are you going to keep your hands to yourself, Miss Warren?" Henry teased.

"I'll be good. Just want a cuddle." Faye assured, snuggling back into the bed, watching his every move as he went about preparing himself for bed, stripping out of the too tight button down, tossing it into the laundry as he absently scratched at his furry chest. His pants quickly followed in suit before he shut the lights off and clambered into bed next to her. Normally he would sleep bare, but decided it wouldn't be the best idea given the current circumstances.

"Now remember, hands to yourself, Miss Warren." Henry reminded, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead. Faye cuddled into him and drifted off into a dreamless sleep, happily curled into his side and breathing him in with a small smile etched on her face.

The next morning, Faye woke up to someone breathing in her ear and a rather heavy arm slung across her chest. She shifted her leg and couldn't help but smile to herself when her thigh brushed against something hard, moving her leg against it again with more purpose, rousing the slumbering man next to her.

"Mmm, good morning." He hummed, cracking his eyes open, his hips rolling toward her probing thigh.

"You know, I'm not drunk anymore." Faye pointed out, squealing when she found herself suddenly trapped beneath him.

"Is that right?" He hummed, pressing gentle kisses to her neck and shoulder, letting one hand gently glide up and down her side, slowly lifting the hem of her improvised nightgown as he went. It would seem she found herself in the presence of a morning person. A very eager morning person, complete with morning wood. He sat back on his heels as he slid her shirt off, biting his lip and groaning softly at the first glimpse of her naked chest.

"Fucking gorgeous." He growled, leaning in and kissing her left breast tenderly, basking in her low whines, her legs wrapping around his waist as he caught her nipple in his mouth, gently flicking it with his tongue. So soft. So tender.

Slowly he slid further down her body, gently untangling her legs from his torso as he descended, leaving small kisses and nips along her stomach, Faye's increased breathing and soft whimpers only spurring him on. His eyes caught a small bit of color creeping over her left side, his attention instantly diverting to the artwork decorating her ribs. "A little mermaid." He chuckled, his fingers gently tracing the lines before pressing a quick kiss to it, not missing her ticklish squirm. That would be something to remember for later.

Henry continued his descent, his unshaved scruff eliciting a shiver as it drug along her sensitive skin, finally coming to a rest at her lacy panties, humming to himself in appreciation. He definitely was a man that enjoyed seeing his lady in lace. His fingers skimmed along the top of her panties, Faye gasping and fighting to stay still as he pressed a hot, open mouthed kiss to her still clothed mound.

"What are you doing?" Faye gasped, sitting up on her elbows as he slid her panties to the side, her chest heaving in anticipation as she met his gaze.

"Do you want me to stop?" He asked, raising a brow, his fingers gently tracing where her leg met her body.

"I... you don't... have to do... that."

"I want to." Henry explained, leaning in and licking a stripe up between her nether lips, a strangled gasp catching in her chest. He shifted between her legs, hooking her knees over his broad shoulders for better access, pressing an absent minded to kiss to the water colored artwork decorating her thigh. He would have to take a closer look at that later but for now, he was a man on a mission.

He delved back in, his tongue eagerly exploring her glistening petals, chuckling to himself when her hips bucked up into his waiting mouth.

"Oh, you are definitely going to be sitting on my face later." Henry hummed to himself, laying a thick forearm over her hips to keep her still. "But for now, let me do the work."

His lips sealed around her sensitive bud, sucking gently as his tongue worked over it, her hips jerking with every flick of his tongue. Her fingers tangled themselves in his untamed curls, her nails scratching at his scalp as she tried to pull him closer. More. She needed more.

He worked over her sensitive clit, moaning softly at the way she would tug on his hair, her legs clamping on his head when she moaned out his name, her hips spasming even under his restraining arm as she came hard on his waiting tongue. It would appear his lady was easy to please.

"Taste so good, Faye." Henry whispered, planting one final kiss to her soaked folds before carefully pulling back.

"That was amazing." Faye panted, releasing his hair with shaking hands to push her own sweat dampened strands from her face.

"Your pussy tastes so good." Henry praised, slowly crawling up her body, licking his lips lewdly as he stared down at her with lust blown eyes.

"Really?" Faye mumbled, her brows knitting together. "Every boyfriend I've had acted like that was a chore. That's why I said you didn't have to."

"They don't know what they're missing." Henry snorted, pressing his still clothed erection against her swollen, sensitive folds, his shoulders slumping when a faint crying met his ears.

"Shit, the baby." Faye groaned, her face falling.

"Go on, make sure she's ok." Henry relented, reluctantly removing himself from her.

"What about you?" Faye asked, already pulling the borrowed shirt back on.

"I'll be out once I calm down a bit."

"I'm so sorry." Faye sighed, squeaking in surprise when he playfully swatted at her backside when she slid out of bed.

"Go check on the baby, I'll be out in a bit." Henry dismissed, unashamedly staring at her ass as she headed to the door.

"Enjoying the view?"

"More than you know."

"One of these days, we are going to seal the deal, Mr. Cavill." Faye assured, giving him a pointed look as she slipped out the door.

"I look forward to it." Henry sighed to himself. Hopefully that day was going to come soon. The wait was killing him.

@Xxxkatxo @Weallhaveadestiny

[builder051]

The talk

Chasing Ghosts

(I generally do not play in this arena; DO NOT ask for other stories with PMS, etc., as illness features. I do loosely plan to continue this thread, though. Or @mohini-musing might pick up for me.)

Warnings: weight (though not ED context), SA inc. prostitution, blood, emeto

____________________________

Tasha comes down the hall and stands like a ghost behind the sofa.

James is in the recliner across the living room, and he barely looks up from the textbook he's pretending to peruse. The quiet music he's had playing in one ear has long since captured his attention more than the multiplication of matrices. He's fairly sure he'll never use the skill lest he become a software engineer post-graduation, and the prospect of that's looking pretty slim.

He sees Tasha out of his peripheral vision, but doesn't move his head or lift his eyes for acknowledgment. She's probably drifted down from her weekend high, realized it's Sunday night, and gotten up for a Gatorade and maybe a glance at her homework.

Steve, though, who's lying on his stomach and taking up the whole of the couch, practically jumps to attention. He stands, scoots, and sits again in the amount of time it takes James to blink and make the first inhalation of a laugh.

"Sorry," Steve says, as if he's personally offended Tasha and just been called out. "I didn't mean... I was just, like, studying..."

Tasha shrugs. "Didn't come to sit with you," she says, in a voice that recalls the 'boys are gross' tone of young teenagerhood.

"What's up, then?" James asks, trying to bring back the balance of the room's atmosphere.

Tasha makes an ugly face. She opens her mouth, then shuts it. "Can I talk to you alone?"

James scoffs. "You think there's privacy in this apartment?"

"I can go, I don't know--" Steve looks around.

"Just talk," James says. He almost rolls his eyes, but the undercurrent of Tasha's affect seems to hold an air of seriousness. If there's something she needs to confess or ask for help with, he doesn't want her to feel less than secure.

Tasha lets out a breathy sort of sigh. "Blood," she says. "There's blood."

"Huh?" Steve responds first. "Where?"

James takes a little longer to contemplate the admission. Has she cut herself? There's no visible damage; Tasha's not holding an injury or howling in pain. Bloody vomit? That's nothing new, really, and even with vampire-red teeth, which she doesn't have, Tasha probably wouldn't come crying to him.

James is still thinking when Tasha points vaguely down the hall and to the left, which is, technically speaking, her side of the apartment. Or at least the bedroom and bathroom they'd parceled out for her when they'd unofficially moved her out of her dreary campus housing.

"What, in your room?" Steve asks.

"No." Tasha screws up her eyes. "I mean... I'm bleeding."

The cogs continue to turn in James's head, and just as he lands on an answer, Steve gives up, shaking his head and saying, "I don't get it."

"Fuck you," Tasha mumbles. "Both of you." She turns and starts to head back down the hallway.

"Tash." James jumps to his feet, his algebra book falling to the floor.

"You guys are fucking gay..."

"Hey!" Steve interjects.

James flaps his hand at Steve to shut him up. "Maybe we're gay, but I'm your big brother." He shoots a quick glance at Steve, hoping this won't surpass his no privacy promise. They've done some pretty wild stuff together: partying, puking, cleaning the carpet... Period talk shouldn't be too far out of their wheelhouse. At least, not if Tasha wants to talk about it.

Tasha huffs and rounds the edge of the sofa. She stands beside the arm, leaning her hip against it for a moment, before finally deciding to sit down, as far away from Steve as possible.

"I..." James starts, assuming it's his responsibility to keep the conversation going. "I assumed you hadn't been, um. You know."

Tasha's 100 pounds soaking wet. In her usual cutoff shorts and tank tops, he'd give her 95. Maybe 92 if she's detoxing. James assumes she has something like female athlete triad going on, except without the athlete. He doesn't like to think she's just too skinny to go through... normal biological processes. If he blames the drugs, sees them as wrecking her body instead of bringing her solace, then he'll have to turn eyes on himself, and there's no way in hell he wants to do that.

"Smart one," Tasha says. "And exactly how much thought do you give to the functioning of my uterus?"

Steve gives an 'oh shit' face, looking from James to Tasha and back again as if wondering how he's been so thick headed. James agrees, but is also relieved, in a way, that his boyfriend hasn't been thinking about his sister in, well, that way.

"Seeing as I have, more than once, pulled you out of an R-rated situation with iffy consent, and you have yet to become pregnant--" James starts.

"Yeah, ok, you don't have to..." Tasha shakes her head.

James decides not to stop his momentum. "Do you know how much sex you're having? How often you're using protection?"

"I said, you don't have to." Tasha glares at him. "I don't have one. A cycle, or whatever. I can't get knocked up."

"Well, I figured that, but you can still get an STD--

"I don't think you're hearing me," Tasha says. "I don't have one. I haven't. Like, ever."

"But--what?" James squints and cocks his head. "What about, what was it? Cheerleading camp?"

"That stupid summer program when I was 16?" Tasha bites her lip. "Yeah, that was a lie."

"You're losing me." Steve reminds them he's part of the conversation as well.

"What, didn't your mom send you to cheerleading camp when you were a sullen teen?" Tasha asks him, seemingly in all seriousness.

"Um. No." Steve withers a little under her stare. "There was a threat to beat it out of me with a bible when I was that age, but that never came to fruition."

"Mm. Fun times." Tasha scrubs her hair back from her face. "I told mom of the moment I started at camp, so then she couldn't go nuts about the moment I 'became a woman,' or whatever."

Tasha has always seemed like a little kid to James. Her stint at camp had only taken place... he quickly calculates... 3ish years ago. Tasha is a kid. She hasn't busted 20 years old yet. But, for the first time James wonders if other, more metaphorical factors are at play.

The idea quickly fades, though, when he remembers the actual topic at hand. "Ok, but Tash," James says. "What's actually going on right now?"

Tasha practically sinks into the couch cushions. She wraps both arms around her abdomen. "Blood," she says. "Kinda...everywhere."

"We'll clean the bathroom later," James says dismissively.

"And I'll do laundry," Steve offers. "I used to be the scrawny kid who got beat up a lot. I can do bloodstains."

"Not helping, babe," James tells him before Tasha can get a word in.

"Feel sick," Tasha admits, rather suddenly.

"Bathroom it is, then," James decides. "But, let's use mine."

Tasha seems to have turned into a shapeless blob on the corner of the couch, her chest meeting her thighs with her arms still wrapped around her stomach. Her face is in her knees, which James has to admit, would be easier to clean than the carpet.

"Come on," he says gently, taking Tasha's shoulder. "If you're gonna puke, don't do it here, please."

"But I already diiiiid," Tasha complains, drawing out the last word and adding the hiccup of a fake crying fit.

"Sorry." James hooks his flesh arm across Tasha's chest and lets her cling to him down the hall. He takes her into his and Steve's disorganized yet bleach-shined bathroom. Cleaning was practically Steve's hobby. Yet keeping down the clutter? Not his strong suit.

Unsure of exactly what kind of sick his sister intends to be, he sets her down, fully clothed, on the toilet, which, of course, has the seat up. Then he dives for the trash can and shoves it into Tasha's chest.

She gives James an appreciative glare, then sets her chin on the edge of the trash can, ostensibly to wait for an upcoming retch. James can practically see it, rising from the bottom of her spine, up her back, to her neck and throat before finally pushing a pitiful amount of spit and bile out of her mouth.

"Ok..." James sighs. If she's down to just that, she's been at it a while. Lost a lot of fluids already.

"Gatorade?" Steve asks in a chipper tone, putting voice to what James is thinking without a trace of delicacy.

"Hmph." Tasha spits. "If it'll... make it stop burning..."

"Lemme guess, vodka last night?" James tries to make her laugh. Maybe cough.

"Fuck you."

"Eh, we'll talk about that later," James says, hoping he doesn't sound threatening. "For now, how about I go with you?" James pulls on Steve's arm and heads for the bathroom door.

"Hey, you said no privacy here..." Tasha's irritated and sickly voice trails after them.

"Yeah, well, puking people aren't allowed to leave the bathroom," James says. "That's the house rule that trumps all the others."

"But I puke on the couch all the time--"

"That's because it's too hard to get your fucking limp-ass octopus body into the bathroom in the first place." James rolls his eyes. "Just sit tight."

He quickly drags Steve into the kitchen. "Ok," he says. "You have to know about this stuff. You took health class in high school, right?"

"I've lived with a woman," Steve reminds James, a little shamefully. "But Peggy was super private. You know, like inhibited, about, like, um..."

"Yeah, I get it." James shrugs. Then, "Did you know you can stem a nosebleed with a tampon?"

"Why would I?"

"I don't know..." James shakes his head.

"Why do you?" Steve looks a little take aback now.

"The field. Desert air's pretty damn dry."

"Ah. Ok."

"We'd get donations of shit from the states. Care packages, Costco overstock, you know. Just, whatever. When we got pads and stuff, whoever was unloading the box would just hold them over their head and yell 'who needs them?'"

"And I'm assuming people would just raise their hands?" Steve postulates.

"Yup." James pops the P. "No privacy. Everyone knows everyone else's bathroom habits. When you're deep in the field, there's no men's and women's facilities. Half the time the privies don't even have doors."

"Ok." Steve nods. "Experience, then. You have lots of experience."

James shrugs again. "You have to be chill, ok?" He opens the fridge and pulls out two bottles of Gatorade. He holds one to either side of Steve's neck, as if to physically cool him. "This is, like, super weird and awkward for her. She's really scared, I think, and her brave face just looks...jerk-ish."

"Yeah." Steve takes the Gatorade. "I can be good with this. I really care about her, even if she doesn't think I do."

"I know you do," James says. "It's all in the presentation right now, though. She's skittish. But, also, for some reason, willing to talk. We have to tease it out. And you can't ruin it, ok?"

"Ok, ok." Steve seems to understand, even if he doesn't appreciate the words.

They head back to the bathroom, where Tasha has, for whatever reason, decided to heave into the toilet instead of the trash. She squats awkwardly, sitting on one heel. From the angle he's at, James can see a spreading stain on the back of Tasha's shorts, which has made an imprint on her ankle and the bottom of her foot.

"Don't move," James says, reaching for a towel.

"The fuck would I?" Tasha coughs, holding her stomach and moaning.

"Well, when you're done, stand up slowly and wipe your feet."

"...Shit..." Tasha spits. "Like I said. It's fucking everywhere."

"Yeah..." Menstrual blood, James has no experience with. But blood in general, yeah. It does get fucking everywhere. There's that first moment when the entire body and all its systems are still in shock, like when the arm is first blown off, and then all he can see is red. Even the bone that was white just a second ago is lost in a sea of scarlet--

"Well, I suppose congratulations are in order," Steve says with a grin, clearly trying to be friendly, but missing out on one, or more, of the points. "You're not pregnant."

"Well, of course I'm not, you dingbat," Tasha replies, rolling her eyes so hard that James is sure it must give her a headache. If she doesn't already have one. "And besides. He used a condom."

"Wait," James says. He's been preoccupied by not looking at Steve. "You know that?" he pokes cautiously. "For sure?"

"...Yeah..."

"Every time?"

"To be honest," Tasha starts, spitting and pushing herself away from the toilet. She crab-walks to the towel, wipes her feet, then sits on it, criss-cross like a little kid. "I don't know if he actually gets off every time." She draws her mouth into a straight, defensive line.

"The fuck does that have to do with anything?" James asks.

Steve looks very much like he wants to get the bleach from the cabinet under the sink, pour it into one ear, tip his head, and see if it comes out the other.

"He pulls out," Tasha says bluntly. "And there's never any, you know. Gunk."

"Wait, he does both?" Steve's eyebrows disappear into his hair. "A condom and--"

"Ok, ok." James puts up his hands to shush them both. "And this is, what, this is your dealer we're talking about?"

"Yeah, I guess, if you want to call him that," Tasha says with a shrug.

"What else would we call him?" Steve now looks disgusted. "That'd be stupid to let him just, like, defile you every week."

"He doesn't--" Tasha starts, but then she hiccups, and maybe thinks better of what she was going to say. She still stares Steve down, though, then looks to James as if grasping at straws of support.

"He's, like, a manufacturer?" Tasha turns her gaze sideways.

"Oh, for fuck's sake." James puts his hand over his face. He'd assumed Tasha was getting her stuff on the street, through a framework of various interlopers. Now he's getting news that his kid sister is taking substances thrown together in some coed's bathtub? This is too much.

"Tash--" James starts, trying hard to keep his bubbling anger and concern from spilling over.

"He's a PhD candidate," Tasha says defensively. In Chemistry. And--" her eyes flicker from side to side as she seems to wonder what's appropriate to spill. "I won't tell you his name. But... I'll tell you that he got kicked off the football team for being too violent, but he still wears his green jersey all the time to prove how much better and calmer he's become since that happened, which was only in the freshman year of his undergrad..." Tasha babbles on.

The more she defends the guy, the more James hates him. He feels bad for him a little, slinging synthesized crack to get by. He feels better for Tasha, knowing that what she's taking is most probably pure. But the sex thing is--

"It's kinda creepy," Steve says, taking the words right from James's mouth. "Like, how much older than you is he?"

"I don't know." Tasha shrugs. "Not that much, I don't think. Started school early, finished fast. And I'm not sure this is his first post-graduate program..."

"Maybe shouldn't've added that last part," James says, screwing up his eyes. "So he's had, like, however long to prey on girls who are barely legal. Who might not even be legal..."

"Well, I'm legal, and I can do what I want." Tasha crosses her arms in front of her chest.

"Yeah," James sighs. "Unfortunately."

"But what about the thing with the handcuffs? The gang rape? Losing your bra?" Steve blurts out.

"Wait, you..." Tasha's eyes flash with anger. "You told him?"

"What did I say about privacy?" James quickly reminds her. "The non-puking kind? And, um," He looks to Steve. "Maybe a little respect?"

"Sorry," Steve mutters. "But--I really do--"

"I don't really remember that stuff," Tasha says.

James studies her face, but he can't tell if she's lying.

"Probably just party stuff that got out of hand."

'You mean you were too stoned to know the difference between your regular and some random dude off the street,' James thinks. 'What do you do at parties? And how the fuck do you slip past me?'

"He's your pimp, too, isn't he?" Steve asks, pointing at Tasha rather accusatorially, in James's opinion.

"No!" Tasha leans forward and brings her arms down to cover her clearly still sore abdomen. "Bruce wouldn't--" She swallows. "I didn't-- You didn't hear--"

James hasn't been a student long enough to know who was on the football team 4, 5, 6-odd years ago. He supposes he could look it up, crossing the name with accounts of any violent incident that amount of time ago. He's not sure he wants to, though he'll probably wind up looking it up later. Either that, or Steve will. James still has his ex-mil connections, a few of which were absorbed into the local police force. Steve, on the other hand, is better with social media and navigating the niceties of such mysteries as SnapChat and TikTok.

"Ok, fine," James says, just ameliorate his sister's panic.

"He doesn't even drug me at parties," Tasha goes on, probably unaware of how terribly young and desperate she sounds, making lame-ass excuses so she can keep her boy toy.

"And you've had other guys who did?" Steve asks incredulously, even though James shakes his head frantically at him to try to get him to shut up.

"You know Rumlow?" Tasha asks, since apparently she's now all about spilling names.

James shakes his head, but Steve screws up his eyes and says in a disgusted voice, "him?"

"Yeah..." Tasha sighs and looks down at her fingernails, which are stained rust-red at the root. "Remember the night I didn't come home?"

"Yeah, and scared the living shit out of us because your phone was off," James fills in the blanks.

"Well, I didn't turn it off."

"You mean that asshole kept you overnight without any means of getting yourself out of there?" Steve looks downright sick. "I mean, I know he looks slimy, but that?"

"I think Maria accidentally slept on the couch and found me at, like, 6am trying to stick my head in the linen closet because I couldn't find the bathroom." Tasha laughs, though the situation is anything bur funny.

"And I was so pissed at her for having you out all night..." James trails off.

"Yeah, maybe respect my choices a little more?" Tasha glares at him. "I mean, Maria's studying to become an EMT now. You can't think that badly of her."

'Great,' James thinks. 'Someone who'll drug Tasha to the gills every weekend.' She'll be less likely to overdose, but James has seen it all too often in the field. Newly minted medical personnel eager to sow off their skills and rushing into action.

"Yeah," James says, trying not to smirk. "So you got a girlfriend and a boyfriend now?"

"Ew, no," Tasha replies. "Friends with...benefits, I guess. If you even want to call it that. Folks who look out for each other, using a barter system?"

"Did you recently take World History?" James can't help but poking at her vocabulary.

"Fucking-a, I don't know. Once I pass, it's in my past."

"That's actually a good motto," Steve points out.

"Anyway," James says, bringing the conversation back to topic. "None of your...friends... are invited to this house."

"It's not like I want to bring them over for dinner," Tasha replies. "I guess drop off and pickup might happen, since, well, you know now, and I don't have a car." She shrugs. "Cool?"

James hates the idea of someone inebriated driving a car in which his sister is a passenger, despite the fact that he's done it before. Regularly, actually. Maybe he just hates the idea of the driver being someone who Tasha just fucked. The air might be heavy between them. They might smell like each other's deodorant and musk. They might kiss each other good bye. The thought makes James's stomach turn.

But, "sure," he says. "That's fine.” At least she'll come home.

James shares a glance with Steve, which seems to confirm the same sentiments, "Yeah," Steve echoes, as if his opinion counts for anything. "Fine."

[simpsiren]

to have and have not.

lee taeyong x reader

“losing me is better than losing you.” - losing you, wonho

main masterlist

description. being close friends with the leader of one of the biggest korean gangs in the underworld wasnt already tough, a big situation falls into your laps that only makes your bond with him even stronger, and maybe perhaps having love to bloom in the process.

genre. mafia au, fwb to lovers au,

warnings. none except for a lot of shooting cudndn

word count. 6,733

a/n. here's a taeyong x reader ff i came up with. its not much but i still hope youll enjoy it :D

lee taeyong. most people, or rather regular people would have a shiver sent down their spine if they heard this name, even if they didnt know how the man looked like. taeyong was, and still currently is very well known in the underworld, but above it as well. he's a well known gang leader amongst all the other gangs that work under one man, mr david chong. basically the mafia boss trumping above all gangs. the police have never been able to catch him, no matter how hard they tried. the policemen would either get shot and killed one by one due to his great ability of using a mere pistol, or would just be killed by taeyong's gang members before taeyong would even appear in their sight. all in all, lee taeyong was a scary man in many ways. not to you though. you found him interesting.

when you were caught hostage by one of the gangs along with one other women you didnt know, and you have the great lee taeyong to get you out of there and have you work under him for debt in a way, you did owe him a lot when a bullet was mere seconds awayfrom going through your brain. you found out that the women who know work under taeyong as well is named val. now, you didnt have much work to do honestly, you would be lounging around in the arcade basement most of the time. you were only told to do small tasks that wasnt that horrifying in any way.

"im dying of boredom!" you whined as you sat up from the very comfortable velvrt couch and faced yuta, who was off duty for tonight. "doesnt boss have anything he needs me to do? i wonder why he even took me in" you folded your arms and rolled your eyes as you let your body slouch and sink into couch. "no one is doing anything right now M. the boss is trying to plan something big from what i hear." yuta shrugged as he took a sip of his vodka. all the members in the gang call you either mal or m, it was a shortened version of your long second name malvisko and you liked being called mal. "yeah well fuck that. im gonna go sleep." you stood up from the couch and waved a small goodbye to yuta before exiting the arcade basement to head to your bedroom, or not.

you tip toed across the halls, making sure no one sees the fact that youre slowly making your way to the boss's office. you arrived at the door without being seem by anyone and right before you were about to open the door, you see jaehyun, taeyong’s right hand man. you looked up to meet his gaze. “you’re here to see mr lee?” you nodded slowly, intimidated by how cold he looks, but no one can beat the gaze of taeyong. “he’s currently feeling stress. try to calm him down a little.” he pats your shoulder before walking past you and disappearing into the hallway. the only person who knows your true relationship with taeyong was jaehyun, and you consider him to be a friend more than a colleague.

you stepped into the room and closed the door behind you. you see taeyong behind his desk with his laptop. he wore his wearing casual attire, which was a hoodie and sweatpants, along with his glasses. you see papers scattered across the table. you slowly walked up to stand beside taeyong. “hey, tae. how’s work going for you?” you placed your hand underneath taeyong’s chin and kisses his cheek lightly. taeyong sighed and took off his glasses and rubbed his temples. “almost all gangs are now working under bishop. what’s worse is that he’s working for that idiot david chong.”

you placed both your hands on his shoulders and massaged them gently as you bit your lip, not entirely sure of what to say. “that sounds pressurising.” you whispered. taeyong scoffed in response. “im going to take revenge on them for killing my brother. he wasnt even involved in this shitshow. ill figure something out.”

you knew about taeyong’s past. you knew that he has worked under mr david chong since he was little but decided rebel, leaving to start his own gang. but now, mr david chong wants him back and will do anything to do so. taeyong is a “precious specimen” as what mr david chong kept calling him. a man who was extremely smart and living in a monstrous world, he did everything he could to survive. it only made his instincts so much stronger. taeyong was like a wild beast in a wild forest, not many were able beat him. you felt honourable for the fact that taeyong lets you know his past. the other members know about it as well, but not as much as you did.

“rest tonight, tae. i want you to sleep.” you leaned forward from behind and whispered into his ear, gently planting light kisses down his neck. taeyong sighed once more and pulled your hand from your shoulder and turned his chair to face you. taeyong pulls you to sit on his lap. “now’s not the time to be doing stuff like that. im sure you know that well.” taeyong glares at you with his piercingly dangerous eyes. you giggled softly, resting your hands on his chest. "i was just advising you to rest, nothing more." you winked teasingly. taeyong scoffed in response and made you stand up. he walked past you and towards the bed, falling onto it almost instantly. you followed suit and sat beside him at the edge of the bed. "youre right. i have a ton of things to do tomorrow." taeyong covers his eyes with his forearm. "im having jaehyun guard you while im away too. its getting dangerous with a whole army of high ranked psychos coming for me. theyll definitely go for those i most treasure before capturing me."

you took a deep breath. "be careful alright? come back to me safe." taeyong chuckled, shaking his head as he sat up straight, going close to you and pecking your lips. "cant exactly do that without having either a bullet in me or a broken rib, but ill come back alive." taeyong wraps his arm around you and pulls you in for a quick kiss before pulling away. "now go. i dont want my men suspecting anything." you nodded and stood up and walked to the door. before you walked through the door, you went back to taeyong to give one last kiss before leaving him for the night.

you were walking down the dimly lit when you suddenly bumped into someone. you looked up to notice it was jeno. one of the younger guys in the gang. "what were you doing boss's office?" jeno asked innocently. you licked your lips nervously, trying to quickly think up an answer. "its fine. i know what you are to him." jeno folded his arms as he smirked widely in a teasing manner. you quickly looked around, making sure you and him were alone. "no one is to hear that you know. im just his friend.. with benefits." you whispered to jeno. jeno giggled. "sure mal. anything you say." he mocked you. "shut it. if taeyong knows that you know he'll probably threaten you to keeo quiet. its good enough that im already warning you." you rolled your eyes and before you were about to make a turn towards another hallway, you look at jeno's way and pressed your index finger to your lip.

you headed to your room and slept as perusual. lucky for you, nothing happened to you that night. taeyong is always scaring you by saying that anyone can kidnap you in the middle of the night, at any time. but god knows taeyong would never let that happen. when you wake up in your large bedroom in your large bed, you looked towards the coffee table to see jaehyun sitting on the comfortable chair, drinking coffee and using his phone. you signalled jaehyun by coughing, making him look your way immediately. "good morning, miss." you sat up from your bed and yawned, turning your head to the full body mirror beside your bed and seeing how terrible you looked. you slipped out of your soft white mattress and grabbed the silk robe, wearing it on before walking over to the coffee table.

“i told you. you didn’t have to call me miss. im your colleague for shit.” you said as you took a seat across jaehyun. he placed the cup of coffee he had in his hand on the table. “sorry, mal. im just used to calling you miss since you have a strong relationship with taeyong.” jaehyun doesn’t look up at you as he quickly glanced his eyes over the words on the newspaper. “jeez im telling you. we’re just friends with benefit. nothing more.” you huffed and folded your arms, slouching into the seat. “by the way, apparently jeno knows about me and taeyong. just keep an eye on him.” you grabbed the cup of tea that was on the table and took a sip. “the gang will be in an uproar if word gets around” you whispered, staring down at your drink. “i will.” jaehyun simply said.

you carried on with your day. most of the gang members are out today. probably because of the big plan that taeyong is doing. he probably also has some gang members to follow him. jaehyun would be with taeyong most of the time but he needed to take care of you since taeyong trusts him with you the most. you could understand. they had a long history together.

“can we please go grocery shopping and cook homemade food? im tired of buying take out.” you whined as you stabbed the fork into the friend chicken that you ordered from kfc. jaehyun took a sip of coca cola and hummed. “im not sure if its safe mal. taeyong wouldn’t want you to be wondering around in public.” you pursed your lips. “but i have you to protect me.” you pouted at jaehyun. he raised his eyebrow in disgust and sighed. “ill call taeyong and ask him.” you shouted a loud yay which made jaehyun flinch back, using his finger to cover his ear as he rolled his eyes and took out his phone to call taeyong. you were trying to hear his conversation with taeyong at the other end of the line by placing your ear close to jaehyun’s phone. you smiled as jaehyun ended the call. “alright. get ready to go. ill wait outside the room.”

you nodded happily as closed the door when jaehyun walked out, skipping your way towards your wardrobe and picking out a simple outfit to go to the supermarket. you made sure you hair looked neat and grabbed your purse and walked out to meet jaehyun. jaehyun leads you out of the hideout and gestured you to get into the car. taeyong normally rode this car but for some reason he chose to take another one to run his errands. you waited as jaehyun gets into the driver’s seat and starts driving to the nearest supermarket.

you two arrived at the supermarket. you realised that it wasnt at all crowded since it was practically 3am in the morning. you only see a few high school students around buying a snack and headed out in a flash. jaehyun helped with pushing the trolley while you picked out ingredients to make jjajangmyeon. you figured that it would be best to make a big batch so that the rest could be saved as leftovers for the other members when they come back in the morning for breakfast. jaehyun kindly offered to pay and the both of you headed out of the supermarket, with jaehyun carrying the groceries.

“thanks for taking me out. its nice to take in some fresh air instead of being couped up in the hideout." you turned towards jaehyun to give him a bright smile but later noticed that jaehyun was looking around suspiciously, his eyes scanning around his surroundings as if the scanner in his mind has detected danger somewhere near you two. you kept quiet for moment, getting scared and you slowly got close to jaehyun. "get down!" jaehyun screamed at you, dropping the groceries and he wrapped his arm around you and drags you to hide behind the car when suddenly a bullet was fired to your direction. you froze, tilting your head up to see jaehyun quickly pulling out his gun from his back pocket, arms streched out to the ground, ready to shoot any second. "its a fucking sniper." jaehyun whispered to you as he looked up towards the buuildings oposite the car, trying to find which building the sniper was stationed at. you didnt know what to do, you were afraid, scared, many feelings were flowing through you. all you could do was look down at the ground, and trust jaehyun with whatever he was doing.

"we're going to get in the car and im going to drive us out of here before the sniper can take another hit, got it? just get into the car as quick as possible and duck down. make sure that he wont be able to see you through the window." you nodded as you quickly processed jaehyun's instructions. "on my signal." jaehyun had his eyes glued on the tall buildings, it was late at night so you could barely see anything, you could never imagine how jaehyun was even able to spot the sniper.

"now!" you immdiately opened the door and got inside the car, closing the door and ducking your body down so as to not be see through the winodw. jaehyun hopped into the driver's seat in a flash and started up the car. you were panting nervously as you felt the car moving at high speed. you heard another bullet being shot at the back of the car. you whinced as you tilted your head up to see jaehyun with his phone beside him, his phone being placed on speaker mode as he called taeyong. "something happened. a sniper tried to shot mal. im heading back to the hideout now." jaehyun said. you heard taeyong shouting a loud 'fuck' before hanging up the call. jaehyun kept silent as he drove you back to the hideout in full speed. in less than 10 minutes, the car was put to a stop. you hugged your purse and you started slowly sitting back up. you looked at jaehyun, who's head and eyes were scanning the area again. jaehyun got out the car and walked to your door, opening it and signaled you to get out, you continues hugging you purse to your chest tightly as you quickly ran towards the hideout and got inside, with jaehyun following you behind.

you took deep breaths and watched jaehyun you looked extremely wary yet calm and collected. you were almost killed and jaehyun looked chill, although you doubt he felt like it. "taeyong's coming. wait for him in the main area." you folowed his instructions and took a seat in the couch of the main area, which basically consisted of a single couch and a very large table. the main area is where everyone would gather if they needed to plan something together, like breaking into a house and sorting out the escape routes etc. you werent part of those meetings but you were always there at the doorframe to see what taeyong and the others were talking about.

you took out your phone, not seeing any messages. you sighed and shoved your phone bac into your purse. it didnt take long for taeyong to come rushing through the door and placing himself on the couch, sitting down beside you and hugging you tightly. you nervously placed your arms around him, seeing the other members aloqly coming into the room. you let out a soft 'uh' into taeyong's ear, signalling taeyong to pull away from you since there were many eyes on you, wierded out that taeyong is being way too touchy with a gang member.

taeyong immediately noticed you hint and pulled away, coughing as he walked toward the huge table and slammed bot his arms down. "bishop is coming, in no time, theyll find out about our hideout and attack." the gang members begin to gather around the table. jaehyun however was standing with his arms folded behind the couch. "splint into groups and disperse. we cant be gathering in big groups like this. leaders take charge." you see the leaders of the sub groups, which were taeil, winwin and johnny nodding their heads to their boss. "those under me. stay low. dont do anything reckless. although it applies to everyone so." taeyong shrugged and sighed, rubbing his temples. "okay thats all. everyone head out tomorrow morning. im calling the leaders in the future to give further orders."

everyone said their goodbyes and exited the room one by one. jaehyu was the last one to stand at the door and before heading out, he gave a look to taeyong, which taeyong responded with a nod and walked out, closing the door behind hi and leaving you and taeyong alone in the main area. taeyong turned towards you and took a seat beside you, looking at you up and down. "im so glad youre safe." taeyog brings his hand uo to cup your cheek and frowned slightly and hugged him tight, digging your face into his chest. taeyong held you close and strokes your hair slowly and placed a kiss on the top of your head. "im not gonna let you go out without me or jaehyun anyore. i cnt imagine what woud happen if you went out alone." taeyong whispered as he pulled away, looking at your face before pulling you into a deep kiss. he pulled himself away from you. "you must be shock from that. im letting you sleep in my room."

you nodded slowly and stood up, following taeyong out of the main area and to his bedroom, which is basically his office. he lets you go inside first and closed the door behind him. he immediately unbottoned his white button up shirt, taking it off and throwing it at the edge of the bed and took a seat on the bed. "why are you so dressed up? you only went to the supermarket." taeyong commented as his eyes scanned you up and down, your outfit looking too bold for going somewhere simple in the middle of the night. "its not often i get to go out of this place. i just wanted to look good." yoy stripped your clothes off till you were in your bra and underwear. you placed your clothes where taeyong's shirt was and picked up his shirt to put it on. "you look nice in my shirt."

you giggled you walked over to the bed and layed down beside taeyong. taeyong cuddled you close, your leg over his and you burry your head deep into his neck. "im going to keep you safe from now on." teyong said, planting kisses on your shoulder. "thats not what a 'friend' says you know." taeyong lets out a 'tsk' before closing his eyes. "sleep," taeyong muttered. you smiled softly and kissed his cheek one last time before falling asleep. to be honest, you didnt know what was yor relationship with taeyong. for now, you only wanted to think of taeyong as your friend with benefit. besides, how can a gang keader even have time to fall in love. you were only there to comfort him, seeing his soft side. you felt that his actions says more than what your relationship with him is, but you chose to not let you imagination wonder too far. you liked taeyong, but you never wanted to interfere with his work by having a relationship with him, thinking that you would be a burden.

the next morning you woke up to see taeyong who just got out of the shower. you yawned and sat up straight, waiting taeyong who’s abs were out in the open, immediately diverting your eyes to it. “you’ve seen it plenty of times but you’re always staring at it like its your first time.” taeyong said calmly. you blinked your eyes and gaze your eyes up at taeyong who was drying his hair with a small towel. you blushed and stood up from the bed. “i cant help it.” you shrugged and begin to unbutton taeyong’s shirt which you slept in and slipped into your own clothes. before you walked out to head to your own room, taeyong pulls you to him by the waist in a swiftly motion and planted a kiss on your lips. “shower and get ready by 9 at the main area. im having a meeting which you need to be there for.” you smiled soft and interlocked your hands with his before letting go and heading out to your room.

you quickly showered and changed your outfit into a more comfortable one, merely only wearing a hoodie and sweatpants. you shoved your phone into your back pocket and and shoved your hands into the sides of your hoodie and walked your way over to the main room.

when you arrived, you see the members that are grouped to be under taeyong standing around. you noticed that taeyong has yet to arrive. you see jeno hanging around the corner with jaemin. you headed over to them, since they’re the only ones you would consider close to. “mal! how was last night? did you have fun?” jeno asked, tilting his head and grinning widely with the smile of a cheshire cat. you furrowed your eyebrows and slapped his should, making him flinch back as he let out a hiss. jaemin looked at the both of you, confused. “what happened last night?” jaemin questioned you. you shook your head with a smile. “oh its nothing. i just played cod with mark last night.” you glared at jeno who still had his smile on. you rolled your eyes and folded your arms. just how does he know everything? you thought to yourself.

you heard the door open, revealing taeyong in a ravishingly beautiful slick black suit. you clicked your tongue in amusement as you eyed him. what’s the occasion for him to be dressing this good? “great everyone’s here. let’s walk through what’s going to happen tonight.” tonight? what is taeyong going to do? is this what he worked long hours for? you listened attentively as taeyong talked about the plan to the members. you were in awe. you weren’t mentioned in the whole plan at all. why did you have to be here? “this needs to be pulled off properly if we’re going to beat that shit. got it? mal, i just need you to stay with me.” taeyong said as he turned his head to the back to face you. you widened your eyes and nodded quickly. “we head out at 12am sharp.” with that, taeyong walked out of the room, leaving everyone to do their own things.

jaemin chuckled. “this is going to be fun.” jaemin said in a sing-song tone. “the fuck is so good about killing a bunch of people jaemin?” you took your phone out to check the time, realising that they had the meeting for four hours and its already 1 in the afternoon. “its the chaos that excites me.” jaemin winked at you, laughing sinisterly and shoved his hands in his trousers and walked out with his shoulders laid back. “he’s only being sadistic. its fine.” you looked at him with a weirded out face. he snorts and jerked your arm with his elbow. “chill m. he’s just joking with you.” members slowly started going out of the main area. you decided to hang out at the arcade area.

the whole day went by quick since you were on your phone the entire time and once it was beginning to get close to 12am. the place started to get hectic with everyone preparing their guns and maing sure they have everything ready before moving out. you however, were just waiting in the main area. you figured that everyone would gather there first so you decided to get your lazy ass out of the arcade room and to the main area.

one by one, members started coming in. you see everyone, including jeno and jaemin with a pistol in hand. you have handled those before but your aiming really sucked. no one in the gang can compare to taeyong's gun skills though. his precision is so good he can shoot someone right in the center of their forehead from such long distances. he liked using old fashioned guns that were different from what the others had since he was more comfortable with it.

by 12am sharp as promised, everyone has gathered in the main area.taeyong gave one last look to all the members and everyone nodded their heads and exited the room swiftly, leaving you, taeyong and jaehyun.

"jaehyun's going to drive us to the mansion. after that, im not letting you out of my sight. got it?" you hummed in response as the three of you proceeded as planned, getting in the car immediately after getting out of the hideout and headed to david chong's mansion.

when you arrived, the car was right in front of the entrance of the mansion. you look through the window andnoticed how extravagant it looked. it looked rich, like it costed millions of dollars, but that is what to be expected from a mafia boss who has money rolling in every second. taeyong asked you to stay put in the car while jaehyun and taeyong got out of the car to talk to the two security guards that were standing at two sides of the entrance and heavily armed with multiple guns strapped on their black vests. taeyong and jaehyun were being checked by the two security guards to avoid having any guns being pointed at david chong, well that made sense.

not long after, jaehyun opened the door of the car and taeyong stood in front of you before grabbing you by the arm and getting you out. you were being pulled to the entrance. the security guards immediately scanning you up and down. "the fuck you looking at my girlfriend for? she's unarmed dont worry." taeyong hissed at them, making them click their tongues and allowing you and teyong to enter, along with jaehyun following behind. did taeyong called you his girlfriend? well that was unexpected.

upon entry, you see a huge grand room which two large sets of stairs on either side, leading and connected together to the second floor, to which a old men stepped out of the shadows of the dimly lit room. "lee taeyong. been awhile since ive seen you in the mansion." taeyong only kept silent, his seemingly cold blooded gaze on david chong. right now, taeyong looked extremely intimidating. although you werent scared by him the first time you met him, this was different. it felt as thoug even his gaze can kill soeone out of fear.

"come back home, taeyong. ill take you under my wing again, and youll live the finest life ever." david chong said. you observed him closely. you thought he looked like those males that become more ugly the more they age. "like hell i would." taeyong said. suddenly, david chong's eyes turned to you. you widened your eyes in fear, but tried to look calm and collected. "who is this beautiful and precious young lady?" he tilted his head and the smiled widly. you were disgusted by the old man was eyeing you right now. taeyong puts a hand on your shoulder. "you remember her right? the girl that your snipers tried to get." the old man started to climb down the stairs. taeyong watching his every step. david chong eventually ended up standing in front of you.

"looking up close, she's more pretty than i thought. could be of use to me." the old man come up close to you, way too close. he placed his thumb on your chin, tilting your head up and he examined your face. your eyes went to taeyong, who instantly pulled you away from him, making you stand behind him. "dont fucking touch her." the old man responded with a loud chuckle. "protective as always. i really did raise you up well." david chong kept his eyes on you. you could tell that taeyong would have ripped his neck open by now, but he kept calm regardless of the overflowing rage at how close david was getting to you.

"how about this? lets arrange a deal." david said, folding his arms in front of him as he stood a foot away from taeyong, who only stared at him fiercely. "i have the girl, and you get your freedom." you widened your eyes, gaze immediately switching from david to taeyong, constantly going back and forth. you felt jaehyun's presense from behind coming closer. "so i dont need your ugly ass and your men tailing my every move if i let her be one your your billions of prostitutes." taeyong raised and eyebrow and laughed histerically, making him look the only crazy one in the room. his eyes grew dark soon after. "try that and you wont see the light of day. though i think today is the last time you ever will." taeyong's eyes glanced to the side where it was dark and in a split second, a gun slided on the floor from the darkness and was in taeyong's arm. immediately, all the members got out from lurking in the darkness, guns all pointed towards david. however, david's men, including bishop's group, appeared on the second floor.

you looked around you in shock, overwhelmed by how much has happened in the blink of an eye. you moved back slightly, feeling jaehyun's hand on your back which made you feel a little safe. you see taeyong pointing his gun towards david's head, to which david responded with a low chuckle. "what, you want to kill me? i have many gangs under me. i could get you devoured in a second." you hear jaehyun letting out a huff as a gun was tossed to him as well. "im not that dumb please."

taeyong wraped his arm around david's neck and turned around to face biship's gang at the second floor. "move and he dies." taeyong shouted, tightening his grip on david's neck. you could tell that bishop's gang members were irritated and taken aback by what taeyong did. taeyong gestured his head towards winwin, who the signalled his gang to go up to the second floor.

"drop your guns." winwin said to the group of men. they were about to put their guns on the floor when a bullet was fired at winwin's shoulder, who immediately whinced in pain. the whole room became a chaos as bishop's gang started to attack. you froze in fear. taeyong shot david in the leg and turned around to look at you. without realising, you see jaehyun on the floor with bishop's members surrounding him. one of the men grabbed you and placed your hands behind your back, tightening his grip. you stared at taeyong with widened eyes, too scared to do anything. you tried to get away from the man's grasp, but clrly you werent strong enough to go against him. you see someone coming up from behind taeyong. "taeyong behind you!" it was too late. taeyong was knocked down unconscious. "taeyong!" you cried out, trying you best to get to taeyong, but you couldnt. you cried as you saw taeyong's body fell to the ground. you realised jaehyun was unconscious as well. it didnt take long for them to knock you out soon after realising the situation you were in.

your eyes fluttered open. you tried to move but realised you were tied up with your hands behind your back and your legs tied together as well. you looked around, trying to process where you were at. it looked like a basement of some sort. the walls looked old and moldt and there was nothing else around you other than taeyong and jaehyun. you started wondering where your other members were at. you wiggled your way towards taeyong who's body was still and wasnt that far away from you. you tried to wake him up by bumping your head on his chest. it didnt take him long to wake up. "mal. fuck they caught us." taeyong muttered under breath as he woke jaehyun up by kicking jaehyun's leg. jaehyun looked around. you saw jaehyun's ear twitch suddenly. he leaned towards the door. "they're coming." jaehyun said. the room fell silent as the door flew open, revealing david alone, walking in. "look at you. i thought you were stronger than this taeyong." david bent down to meet taeyong's eye level. taeyong turned his head away.

"so whats it going to be? the girl, or you?" david walked over to you and grabbed you by the collar and lifted you up, his head getting close to your neck and he took in your scent. you bite your lip and tilted your head away, struggling to kick him away. "smells like money to me." david chuckled. taeyong and jaehyun both hissed at him like snakes. david acted scared, letting out a "woah." sarcastically. "you got one hour to decide. also.." bishop suddenly appeared at the entrance of the door and walked over to taeyong. "pleasure seeing you again." bishop said to taeyong. "to think you would be dumb enough to team up with david. go to hell." taeyong argued. "i thinnk youre the one going to hell, when i torture you to death." bihsop instantly pulls out a night and placed it at taeyong's neck. jaehyun tried to kick it away but to no avail. "im having him torture you while you decide. have fun." with that, david dropped you back to the ground, and left the room. you heard him lock it, just great.

"now, what are we going to do with you three?" bishop romved the knife from taeyong's neck and circled around the three of you. "all we wanted to do was take david's money and bring him to the police for fuck sake." taeyong said as he rolled his eyes. "you shouldnt let me know your plan, idiot." bishop commented when he stopped behind you, pulling your hair, making you whince. "tell me, you ever had sex before?" your raised an eyebrow and kept your mouth shut. "not going to reply i see." out of nowhere, bishop connected his lips with yours and tried kissing you, but you didnt let him, still struggling to get out of his grasp. "get away from her!" taeyong shouted as jaehyun kicked bishop in the stomach with his legs. you fell down and coughed in disgust. bishop laughed, standing up and squat down infront of you. you spit in his face and stared him in the eyes. "fiesty. i see why david could have fun with her." bishop whispered. the only thing you could think about was how furious taeyong looked, his eyes burning in anger.

"well, i didnt come here to torture taeyong so, ill be on my way now." bishop suddenly carried you bridal style. you screamed taeyong and jaehyun's names as you were being carried way from them and out of the room. taeyong looked into your eyes, nodding his head as to signal that you will be fine, and that he'll find a way to get to you. you could only trust him when the door closed, removing taeyong and jaehyun out of your sight.

you didnt know where you being being carried to. you tried to stay calm, but your breathing was completely unstable. bishop noticed how you were acting. "calm down, im only keeping you for myself, i only worked with david to get my hands on you." bishop opened a door and entered the room. it was a bedroom, a good looking one at that, fitting the theme of the whole mansion. "what are you going to do with me?" you asked him, your voice cracking. bishop throws you on the bed and gets on top of you, you shivered as his hand touched your cheek, admirj g your face. "you'll find out soon, love." with that, bishop gets off the bed and walked out the room and locked you in. you looked around, trying to find any possible way to escape. there wasnt a window to escape through and you were unable to come uo with any ideas. you cried as you hugged yourself on the bed, you didnt know what to do. you were away from taeyong. who knows what could happen to you. you cried and cried till your eyes became dry and extemely red.

bishop hasnt come back for awhile now. you closed your eyes and tried to control your breathing, taking in deep breathes to try and calm yourself down, though it was very difficult. you didnt realise you were crying too much to the point where you fell asleep.

you woke up. you werent in the room this time. you looked around, you looked to be in a car. you turned to the front to see jaehyun and taeyong in the front seats, with taeyong driving. "great youre awake. we're heading home, not the hideout though." taeyong said with a monotoned voice. how did you get out? did you fell unconscious or something? you were in bishop's room the last time you were awake. you fell asleep again, too tired to think or even bother to ask yourself questions.

soon, you felt arms carrying you out the car. you fluttered your eyes open to meet taeyong's. he placed a soft kiss at the top fo your head. taeyong carried you to a rundown looking house. the wood on the walls were filled with mold, but it appeared to still be a suitabe place for a hideout. you were placed on a bed and taeyong sat down beside you. he hugged you tightly, and you hugged him back, fully embracing his presence. he plants soft kisses on your neck. you pulled yourself closer to him. "is everyone safe?" you asked with eyes of concern.taeying pulled away from you and smiled softly. "everyone is fine, a few wounded but the doctors are handling that." taeyong pulled you in your a kiss. you wrapped your arms around his neck, while his was placed securedly on your waist. taeyong pulled away and sighed. "im sorry i couldnt protect you." taeyong whispered as he grabbed your hands and places them both on your lap, rubbing your skin lightly with his thumb. you layed a kiss on the side of his lips. "its fine, i was scared, but i knew you would come for me." you smiled softly, trying not to break down again in front of taeyong to make him feel worse.

"i love you." taeyong said. you widened your eyes. "you do?" taeyong hummed and nodded his head in response. you placed your forehead against his. "so we arent friends with benefits?" you asked him again. taeyong gave you wierded out look. "since when were we friends with benefits. i thought you knew that i liked you." you chuckled softly. "you should know youre the kind of person that cant express his feelings well." you commented. taeyong only frowned, to which to kissed it away. "ill keep you safe from now on, no matter what. losing me is better than losing you." taeyong hugged you once again.

after that crazy experience you had, you learned a few things. one, that taeyong was now yours. you didnt have to hide your feelings for him, and the members were apparently happy for you two. well, taeyong would propably rage if anyone opposed it anyways. and two, that you were able to trust taeyong full heartedly. with his strength, you know that he would do anything to keep you safe.

[365days365movies]

April 12, 2021: Mrs. Doubtfire (1992) (Recap)

Hey, Robin Williams. Been a while.

I’m sorry that I haven’t watched your movies for a while, and that I always skip your comedy stand-up when my phone’s on shuffle. I just...let me explain. Since I was a kid, you were one of my favorite entertainers. That might as well have started the day I was born, because...well, we share a birthday, fun fact. But it definitely continued with the first movie I ever saw in theatres.

While I don’t quite remember the first time I saw it, Aladdin was one of my favorite childhood movies, and I knew that you were the voice of the Genie from an early age. You might have actually been the first actor I ever knew by name. Which makes sense, because your stardom during the ‘90s was nearly unparalleled.

The next film I remember seeing (and hearing) you in was Ferngully: The Last Rainforest. That also starred Tim Curry, who would also be a major figure of my childhood. It also wasn’t the best movie, in hindsight, but it is the only time I’ve heard you rap since.

But eventually, I watched your forays into live-action, too. Jumanji, Hook, even the objectively bad Flubber, are all movies that I vividly remember watching during childhood. I was really excited for Flubber, even, and I LOVED Jumanji growing up. I liked Hook, too, but I appreciated that more as I got older.

Of course, during this time period, you also made less family-friendly films. The Fisher King, Good Will Hunting, Dead Poets Society, Good Morning Vietnam, and What Dreams May Come were all very successful, and cemented your reputation as an actor. I also haven’t seen any of them. In fact...I don’t think I’ve seen any of your dramatic roles, and that’s something that I’ll fix this year. Hell, in a few days, I’ll watch The Birdcage, another of your big hits of the ‘90s.

But why haven’t I seen them up to now? Well...I was going to watch these films, about seven years ago. But...I haven’t been able to bring myself to do it. Because it hurts. A lot.

I know that this is a downer, but my relationship with Robin Williams today is tainted by his tragic death. I was fucking BROKEN when his death was announced, and I really haven’t been able to watch him since. I’ve seen Aladdin recently, but that’s about all I could stand to watch. I mean, the guy shares a birthday with me! I’ve always loved his comedy stylings, and his improvisational skills are something I’ve internalized to a certain degree.

So, yeah. This one’s tough. But, it’s about time I moved on, and celebrated the man’s career for what it was: stellar. And that also brings up an important question, that some of you have probably asked by now:

HOW HAVE I MISSED MRS. DOUBTFIRE, WHAT THE FUCK

I KNOW I KNOW OK?

Look, I’m not entirely sure how I haven’t seen this movie, because I’m MORE than aware of it! I remember it airing during the ‘90s, my Dad AND girlfriend love this movie, and I know FOR A FACT that my family owned both the DVD AND THE VHS of this movie! So, how? HOW HAVE I NOT SEEN IT BY NOW?

I honestly have no idea, but let’s fix it now, huh? Yet one more man-dresses-as-woman movie this month! And no, I am not watching White Chicks...because I’ve already seen White Chicks. Also, it’s...problematic.

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

 Recap

Daniel Hillard (Robin Williams) is a voice-actor, and a good one. Which, given that it’s Robin Williams, isn’t entirely inaccurate. He’s also a voice actor with a spine, as he morally objects to a scene in the cartoon that he’s performing for, in which the main character smokes. By the way, I’m 99% sure that this cartoon is animated by Chuck Jones, and it looks well-made.

Anyway, this leads to him quitting the cartoon altogether, and allows him to pick up his kids early from school. These kids are Lydia (Lisa Hykub), Chris (Matthew Lawrence), and Natalie (Mara Wilson), and it’s Chris’ 12th birthday. Daniel arranges a...surprisingly large party, given that it’s completely impromptu, and it comes with a petting zoo and complete trappings. However, it’s not a party of which his wife will approve.

This wife is Miranda (Sally Field), a successful architect and the breadwinner of the family. After getting a call from the neighbor about the party, she comes home and busts the outrageous party. And for the record, I’m entirely on Miranda’s side here. This party is INSANE, and very irresponsible, given the fact that Daniel currently has no job. And yeah, he’s a very loving father, and a good person, but...it’s too much.

Miranda feels the same, and after 14 years of frustration, she realizes that she no longer loves Daniel. In a genuinely sad scene, she tells him that she wants a divorce. And she goes through with it MUCH to Daniel’s detriment. He has no home, as he’s staying with his brother, Frank (Harvey Fierstein) and his partner Jack (Scott Capurro). He also still has no job, meaning that he has no way to provide for his children. This means that he has no ability to provide, and the judge awards Miranda full custody. Oof.

However, this is a conditional arrangement, as another hearing for joint custody will be held in 3 months, and if Daniel can get a home and job in that time, he has a chance. He performs a litany of voices and impressions with his court liason, Mrs. Sellner (Anne Haney), which amuses me, but not her, and he gets a job in order to be with his kids for more than one day a week.

Meanwhile, Miranda IMMEDIATELY starts dating fellow designer and old flame Stuart Dunmeyer (Pierce Brosnan), like, almost before Daniel leaves the house. He bids a heartfelt goodbye to his kids, with the promise that he’ll see them on Saturdays. And now begins the absolute hatred and petty bitchiness of Daniel and Miranda! Seriously, it’s...it’s fucking terrible, and it takes away from my sympathy from either side. I get that divorce is rough and ugly, but GODDAMN, neither of them perform the act with any form of tact or grace.

This is put on display during the kids’ visitation to Daniel’s semi-crappy new apartment, which doesn’t even seem that bad, to be honest. Miranda dropped them off late and picked them up early, as if to slowly starve Daniel of time with his kids, which is extraordinarily shitty of her, fuck me. Daniel’s not taking it well, understandably, but then does something...really dumb, when you think about it.

See, Miranda’s looking for a nanny, to help watch the kids and clean the house during the week. Daniel volunteers his services, which is actually a good idea, but Miranda says she’ll think about it, which we ALL know means no. I DO NOT like Miranda, even if I understand the initial reasons for the divorce. She’s being especially spiteful, and it’s not a good look.

Daniel’s stupid idea, though, is to change the phone number on the ad for the nanny, which Miranda shows him before she takes the kids. Instead, he calls her number, and pretends to be various terrible applicants, until finally supplying his own applicant: the completely fictional Euphegenia Doubtfire (Daniel Hillard).

Daniel plays Mrs. Doubtfire as an elderly British woman, and a seasoned nanny in her day. Which is why it’s weird to me that, when he does to Frank and Jack to help him make an elaborate disguise as Mrs. Doubtfire, that they go through various other impressions and get-ups. Which, yes, is goddamn hilarious, but also makes NO SENSE, given that they’ve already established her character to Miranda. Funny, but nonsensical.

But, regardless, Euphegenis Doubtfire comes into being, and introduces herself to Miranda and the kids. Mrs. Doubtfire is exactly what Miranda’s looking for, although the kids aren’t exactly overjoyed, ESPECIALLY the oldest, Lydia. Also, during this first meeting, Miranda openly bad-mouths Daniel in front of the kids, in just the WORST fuckin’ way. I genuinely dislike Miranda A LOT. Again, the divorce was certainly justified, but I REALLY don’t like her. Daniel loves his kids, and they’re HIS kids, TOO. Stop using them as weapons against him, OOOOOOOOOOOH I DON’T LIKE MIRANDA

Anyway, that evening, after she’s officially been hired by Miranda, Mrs. Doubtfire heads home, only to find court liason Mrs. Sellner waiting to speak with Daniel. After a litany of puns, and a humorous changing scene, Daniel accidentally throws the Mrs. Doubtfire mask out of the window, and is forced to improvise through equally humorous circumstances. Hence, the above meringue mask scene. Has anybody tried that, by the way? Could that work as a groundbreaking beauty technique? Or would the sugar just feed the skin bacteria and give you acne? Genuinely curious.

Now going between his job as Daniel and the nanny job as Doubtfire, Daniel’s not doing too badly for himself. The nanny job begins, and Mrs. Doubtfire IMMEDIATELY contrasts with Daniel, creating a disciplinarian atmosphere in place of Daniel’s formerly loosey-goosey attitude. Which is interesting, and it works! I mean, it’s not how I would parent, but it does work. Doubtfire makes the kids to their homework, rather than watch TV, and then attempts to make dinner. Instead, though, the dinner’s ruined, and Daniel orders takeout and makes it LOOK like homemade food. And it looks good, too! Daniel’s full of hidden talents.

After dinner, as Mrs. Doubtfire’s leaving, Lydia apologizes for backtalking her earlier, and thanks her for making her mom happy with everything she did that evening. he also says that she’s still a bit messed up about her dad being gone. And yeah, it’s sweet-but-sad. 

Going forward (and in a montage set to Aerosmith’s Dude Looks Like a Lady), Mrs. Doubtfire takes care of the family, and Daniel even betters himself to become a better Mrs. Doubtfire. Which...to be honest, Daniel REALLY should’ve done this before. I get that he needed the pressure of losing the kids to do this, but...look, Daniel really wasn’t that responsible of a parent, and the fact that THIS is how he learns to be so is...not great. Like, here’s an example, OK: take Donald Trump.

Yeah, I know, what’s this politics doing in my peanut butter? And WOW, that reference is older than me, but anyway. Let’s say that, in two years, a new politician comes on the scene, and her name is Karyn Walldottir. She has somewhat centrist views, and behaves in a way that’s inclusive to the majority, and backs up her claims and promises with evidence (at least true enough for us to suspend our disbelief). This is, of course, Donald Trump disguised as a woman in order to gain custody of the United States of America again. Naturally.

Karyn Walldottir gets elected in 2024, and all of her policies are markedly different from Trump’s and Biden’s, but leaning closer to Biden in progressive standpoints (assuming that that worked for him come 2024). While Trump is doing this specifically to be president again, he ends up revising his personal policies, and being a better person and president for the country. A literal impossibility, I know. But suspend your disbelief to ask this question:

WHY THE FUCK WOULDN’T HE DO THAT IN THE FIRST PLACE? IT MAKES NO FUCKING SENSE!

OK, now that that dumbass (and mildly horrifying) thought process is concluded, let’s get back to Mrs. Doubtfire. In the process of Mrs. Doubtfire’s ingratiation with the family, Miranda’s been dating Stu, whom Mrs. Doubtfire subtly insults when they meet. And yeah, Daniel’s being a little petty here, but it makes a bit of sense at least.

That night, after an accidental intrusion by Chris when Mrs. Doubtfire is going to the bathroom, Daniel’s basically forced to tell Chris and Lydia his little secret, which Lydia’s happy about, but Chris is understandably weirded out about. But, they agree to keep the secret from their mom and younger sister.

At his OTHER job, delivering film reels from a TV station, he witnesses the filming of an extremely boring kids educational TV show, and comments as such to another man watching. As he quickly learns, this is the owner of the station, Jonathan Lundy (Robert Prosky), on whom Daniel makes a good impression.

In the meantime, Mrs. Doubtfire has a talk with Miranda about their love lives, real and fictional. Daniel realizes how badly Miranda had been suffering in their marriage, which she never told him because...well, he never seemed to take anything seriously. Which is entirely fair...but this is why Miranda’s a tricky-ass character. She’s got two sides: there’s the justified caring mother and strong woman, and there’s the PETTY ASSHOLE who genuinely doesn’t care about Daniel or his feelings AT ALL. Jesus.

And Stu...look, Stu is LITERALLY a Gary Stu, who’s mostly perfect. Sure, he’s not always been that way, but he definitely is now! He’s responsible, wealthy, in love with Miranda AND her kids. And yeah, at a country club that he’s a member of (OF COURSE he is), he privately badmouth Daniel in front of Mrs. Doubtfire, calling him a loser, and...yeah, he’s not really unjustified in that statement. Fact of the matter is, Stu is barely even a plot device.

Meanwhile, in Daniel’s day job, he finds himself alone in the studio, where the toy dinosaurs from the TV show are still sitting on the table. He plays with them, gives them voices, sings some songs, and impresses Mr. Lundy, who’s there in the shadows after all that. He’s impressed, and invites Daniel to dinner to talk about a potential future show at the network.

But then, it’s also Miranda’s birthday coming up, and Stu’s holding a dinner for her, to which Mrs. Doubtfire is invited. Trouble is, it’s at the OH FUCK IT. YOU know what this is. It’s at the same time and place as the Mr. Lund meeting yaddayaddayadda LOOK. We ALL know how this is going to end. It’s the GODDAMN LIAR REVEALED TROPE AGAIN. And here’s the thing:

I FUGGIN’ HAAAAAATE THE LIAR REVEALED TROPE

You know, that thing in movies (especially family movies of the ‘90s) where somebody starts off a situation with a lie, they get deeper and deeper into that lie, grow close to people under false pretenses, and then OH NO! THE LIAR IS REVEALED! And everybody’s angry and/or sad, the liar slumps off, defeated and broken, but then realizes the error of his ways, while everybody else realizes the same thing, and he comes back to vindicate himself, and is welcomed back with open arms. And it introduces unneeded tension AND I HAVE ALWAYS FUCKING HATED IT.

Let’s list the examples, shall we? A Bug’s Life, Aladdin, Mulan, The Road to El Dorado, Chicken Run, How to Train Your Dragon, Klaus, Madagascar 3: Europe’s Most Wanted, Megamind (SUBVERSIVE MY ASS), Over the Hedge, Rango, Toy Story, Steven Universe (the whole Pearl/Sardonyx arc, which went on for WAY too long), the list goes on and fucking on. And I GODDAMN HATE IT. Not to say it can’t be done well. Disney actually usually does a pretty good job with it, and Dreamworks uses it A LOT, but almost always pretty well. But sometimes...GOD. Either way, it’s still used FAR too fucking much. And look. Here’s another one. Joy.

Look, at this point...I will freely admit that I'm biased against this trope, but it’s also obvious where this is headed. Basically, Daniel switches back and forth between the dinner with the family, and the dinner with Mr. Lundy. With Mr. Lundy, he gets absolutely SMASHED. Great. Great decision, Daniel.

So, yeah, Mrs. Doubtfire’s also smashed, which is pretty goddamn apparent to them all. At this point, I’m wondering why Daniel, as Mrs. Doubtfire, didn’t just say she was sick as hell, and had to go home. Or, considering the fact that Daniel proposes her as a show idea regardless, the switch wasn’t even necessary! And that means that none of what’s about to happen, happens. Or, here’s a crazy thought, maybe Daniel shouldn’t have POISONED STU’S FOOD WITH CAYENNE PEPPER THAT HE’S ALLERGIC TO! 

YEAH! Because that causes Stu to go into anaphylactic shock for a hot sec, causing him to choke. Mrs. Doubtfire does the right thing and gives him the Heimlich maneuver, and in the process, SURPRISE! IT’S BEEN DANIEL ALL ALONG! BUH BUH BUHHHHH DA DA DA DAAAAA DA

Yeah, so Miranda is understandably ENRAGED by this revelation, and it’s all over. Daniel represents himself in court at the custody hearing, but the judge deems his “lifestyle” dangerous for children. Which...yikes, Judge, that statement didn’t age well AT FUCKING ALL. But, given Daniel’s admitted stupidity with this whole idea, he’s not wrong about the dangerous part. But, I have to say, Daniel’s speech in his own defense is nice...although he also says he’s addicted to his children, so let’s throw a second yikes on there for good measure.

The speech moves Miranda...but not enough to prevent Daniel has his custody stripped away from him! GOD THEY BOTH SUUUUUUUUCK. Daniel’s a broken man, and Miranda and the kids are similarly broken without him and Mrs. Doubtfire. However...Daniel’s career isn’t broken AT ALL, as Mrs. Doubtfire is now a kid’s show host! Yeah! And she’s a hit! And again, it brings me to wonder why Daniel DIDN’T APPLY HIS OBVIOUS TALENTS LIKE THIS IN THE FIRST GODDAMN PLACE

Realizing that she made a mistake, she goes to the set during the filming of a show. She congratulates him on the show, and he replies by stating how broken he is now! Thanks, Miranda! Well, after an argument, and after Miranda sees how badly she’s messed up someone she used to care for, they come to an agreement: joint custody. FINALLY GODDAMN IT

And good, because I don’t want them back together. I have to give this film props for that: they acknowledge that these two are NOT good for each other, and they deliver a message in the end: families are families, no matter how they’re shaped. One mom, one dad, uncle or aunt, grandparents, adoption, two separated or divorced parents...oh, also, two dads or two moms. Yeah, that isn’t said in Mrs. Doubtfire’s final monologue, which is odd considering Daniel’s brother and his life partner...but it’s also kid’s TV in the ‘90s, so I guess that sadly makes sense. And with that, and their new family arrangement, Daniel takes his kids on an afternoon out, as himself.

...Look. That’s Mrs. Doubtfire, yaddayaddayadda LOOK. I don’t dislike this movie. In fact, here: have this mini-Review:

Cast and Acting - 9/10: Good, although Brosnan was a little stiff.

Plot and Writing - 5/10: It’s an idiot plot, what can I say? It’s actually based off of a book, which was a surprise to me, but it was adapted by Randi Mayem Singer and Leslie Dixon, and...eh. Still an idiot plot.

Directing and Cinematography - 8/10: It’s Chris Columbus, you get what you get. Definitely has that Home Alone flair to it.

Production and Art Design - 8/10: I mean, yeah, the Doubtfire disguise was good most of the time, but...I dunno, I could still tell it was Robin. But, still, it was good. Took 4 hours of makeup, fun fact.

Music and Editing - 8/10: Music by Howard Shore (ooh, Howard Shore!) was pretty nice, especially the ending theme. Editing by Raja Gosnell was...RAJA GOSNELL???

OH GOD. Yeah, OK, I see what happened here. Also, I didn’t know he was an editor! I just know him as the director of the Scooby-Doo films, Beverly Hills Chihuahua, The Smurfs films, Big Momma’s...

...OK, no, I am not doing Big Momma’s House OR the Madea movies. THE TROPE-BUCK STOPS HERE! I am moving on to something else! But, of course, I have to sum this up in a Review. See you there!

[sosthemortalcoil]

BLM Donation Shorts: Who Wears the Crown

@justtobefrank requested a nsfw Alice x m!Gabriel. Alice gets her revenge(?) for Gabriel attempting to dethrone her as the Prank Master

“Oh please. Prank Master? Because you got one over on me?” Alice scoffs as she steps through her apartment door, flinging her currently bright green hair over her shoulder.

“I do believe the accepted protocol is that when someone defeats the reigning champion, regardless of the arena in which they fight, that the new victor becomes the champion,” you reply, following her into her apartment.

“You know, this is why it’s probably a good thing you don’t talk a whole lot around everyone else. You haven’t quite grasped the local vernacular.”

You shrug. As far as you’re aware, the Babylon matrix your shell is equipped with allows you converse like any human would. Then again, Alice isn’t just any human.

“One day I’m going to figure out what your deal is,” she threatens, ditching her jacket on the back of a chair. She leans over, giving you a generous view of how tight her pants cling to her rear, as she undoes her boots. Straightening up, she kicks them to a corner of the room.

“Stare much harder and you’ll owe me a new pair of pants,” she comments.

“I was not—”

“Oh, you weren’t?” She turns, arms folded across her chest, her lips curved in a smile that spells trouble of the best kind. You swallow, warmth kindling in your stomach. “Well why the hell not? It’s a damn fine ass, and I know you like it.”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Butt is rather the point.” A juvenile joke, but Alice has no compunctions about being crass or juvenile.

“I thought the point was that you now have vengeance to plot.”

“Vengeance? For green hair? I should have seen it coming. I underestimated you. Bribing Stephanie is nearly impossible. It’s a feat that few can accomplish.” She stalks towards you, grabbing your tie and winding it around her fingers. The way she teases the silk, stroking and twisting it, rubbing it between her fingers ever so slowly, has you wetting your lips in anticipation.

“I would love to know how you pulled that off. It might even be worth something.”

Her eyes flick up to yours, grey eyes bright as if she shines with an inner light.

“Something?” you echo hopefully, eyes moving back to the dance of her fingers.

She chuckles, a low throaty sound, and moves away, stripping off her shirt as she goes and tossing it to the floor in the short hallway from her entry and kitchen to her bedroom. “I don’t know. It depends on the quality of your information.”

You trail after her, hesitating before scooping up her shirt and tossing it into the hamper. Alice sits with her legs crossed on the bed. You recognize the sheer black bra and know she’s wearing the matching underwear. Her ‘get-laid’ set, as she calls it.

“The quality of information is dependent upon the skills of the interrogator, is it not?” you ask, hovering before her. She reaches out and hooks a finger in your belt, dragging you to her.

“Oh, but I am a very skilled interrogator,” she says, sliding the belt off and staring up at you from beneath half-lidded eyes. “I can tell already you’re going to give me everything,” she emphasizes her point by dragging her nails over the zipper of your slacks, “that I want.”

You wait, breath bated, but she leans back, snapping the belt lightly in her hands, attention on the plain black leather and completely ignoring you.

After a few moments you plunge your hand into your pocket, pulling out your trump card. “The hair was only part of the play. As you often say, have multiple balls rolling.”

Alice’s eyes dart briefly to the keychain and away, unable to hide her interest. “Pick-pocketing Kain? You do like to be punished. He’s going to make your life miserable when he finds out it was you.”

“I did not pick-pocket him. He left it unattended to make some comments about your… roots.”

Alice raises an eyebrow. “So, I was a part of a larger plan? Getting better.”

She leans forward, slipping the buttons of your shirt out, the belt still loosely clasped in her hands. “But you were going to tell me how you bribed Stephanie.”

“I found a book she had a great interest in.” Not technically a lie, but not the full truth either.

Alice digs her short nails into the skin of your chest, hard enough to make you groan. “Spare no details. Stephanie has a great many books, and access to more than most people could ever read in a hundred lifetimes. What is so special about this one?”

“It was thought lost when the Library of Alexandria burned down,” you admit, cheeks flushing as her hands turn gentler, sliding your shirt off your shoulders. Her hands continuing their path down your arms, all the way to your wrists, tugging them forward, as if she’s going to permit you to touch her as a reward.

“A very rare book. I’d love to hear how you came by it,” she murmurs, kissing the inside of one wrist before binding your hands together with the belt. “Don’t tell me yet; I’m only getting warmed up. It’s not fun if you go giving up all your secrets so easily.”

She tugs your hands down, and you follow the motion of the gesture to your knees, sitting obediently on your heels.

“You know,” she whispers as she stands and leans over you, “if you want me to run you through your paces, you can just ask. I mean, lean and green is a look but you don’t have to try so hard. I don’t need an excuse to make you beg for me.”

Her pants slide down her hips and she steps out of them, striking a pose with a cocky smirk. “You are so easily riled up, you know that? Tie you up, put on some nice underwear, and you start raising a flag like you’re calling out an SOS.”

She lifts a foot and grinds the ball of it on the front of your pants. A debauched moan answers her action, your cheeks heating further as the friction sends sparks shooting up your spine. “I’ve got half a mind to make you come like this,” she admits.

To your mingled relief and dismay, she stops. “No fun in letting you get off so soon.” She settles on your legs, playing with the zipper of your pants. “I am supposed to be punishing you, aren’t I? You want me to take you over my knee and tell you what a bad boy you’ve been?”

Leaning forward, she scrapes her teeth over your earlobe. “I’m going to have my fun, Gabriel. But you need to grow up.”

With that, she stands, moving behind you. “If you stay there while I take care of myself in the shower, I’ll rethink my position,” she offers. “But only if you don’t have too much fun listening in. That would defeat the point of a true punishment.”

Something hits the top of your head, half-obscuring your vision. “Looks better on you!” she calls as she turns the water on. With a shake of your head, you watch the damp, lacy panties slide onto your lap and swallow thickly. Whatever plans she has will be well worth the wait.  

[teawithshruti]

How did I keep myself sane amidst a pandemic - My thoughts on books, anime, and restaurants.

Yet another review of The Shining

A plot so well written you would want to go in room 217

Hi there! This blog comes to you from a bored 19 year old who has a knack for reading crime thrillers, watching murder documentaries, and loves watching MasterChef just to see Gordon Ramsay. LOL. And did I mention that she also happens to be a Stephen King fan, because who isn’t? So here is where I try and convince you that The Shining  is the best book ever written and how Stanley Kubrick completely butchered the screenplay, as well as why pasta is life.

Welcome to the Rockies!

The story takes place in the town of Boulder, Colorado, where our main protagonist Jack Torrance gets a job as a caretaker of the famous Overlook Hotel. Winters in Boulder are harsh, and the hotel remains closed as travel is not permitted with all the heavy snowfall. Now Jack is a recovering alcoholic with anger issues which led to him breaking his son’s arm prior to where the story begins. This made Wendy, his wife, question her marriage and the safety of their five year old son,  Danny. Danny on the other hand isn’t your average five year old who just watches cartoons and plays with toys. He is aglow with a psychic voltage, and has frequent blackouts. In the words of old Mr Hallorann, the hotel’s head chef, Danny’s a shiner. When the Torrances meet Mr Hallorann, he feels an instant connection with Danny. He warns Jack about the hotel and its sinister secrets and how the previous caretaker, Delbert Grady, killed himself and his family. But Jack is sure that this huge and lonely hotel with its splendid views is just what he needs in order to earn back his family’s trust. But going to a haunted hotel with a troubled marriage and a psychic son? Maybe not the best idea. But in his defense, Jack doesn't believe in ghosts. Little does he know that’s about to change.

Snowbound at The Overlook

The Torrance's begin settling in the Overlook. But as winter closes in and the blizzards cut them off from the outer world, the hotel seems to develop a life of its own. Meanwhile, Jack starts growing restless, craving for a friendly drink with each passing day. He also starts experiencing hallucinations, and wonders if they are withdrawal symptoms. Danny on the other hand is experiencing his own share of ghostly sightings, like the terrifying lady in the bathtub of room 217 who seems to have never checked out of the hotel. In one instance, he witnesses her climbing out of the clawfoot tub and advancing towards him with her bloated belly and dry hair as he stands frozen in fear in a blood covered presidential suite. This narrative by King with all its details is the truly the most spine tingling I’ve ever read.  Later when Danny’s parents find him in the room, a thumb in his mouth, that is when Wendy truly realizes that they are not alone in that strange big hotel. Jack goes and sees the tub for himself, but the lady from before doesn't want to greet him. Wendy, in tears, sees that both her husband and her son are being tormented by this place and begs Jack to quit the job. Danny later calms his mom down, who is weeping uncontrollably, by telling her not to worry as his daddy doesn't have the shining, so there is nothing to worry about.

Have you never heard of REDRUM?

Sure you have. Read it backwards.  Yes, you got it right. And so did Danny after seeing this word in his visions countless times. It so turns out that Danny is much stronger than he looks and after failing to possess him, The Overlook has turned to an easier target - Jack. As Jack slowly starts to lose his mind, he gives in and starts drinking again from the bar in the ballroom. His hallucinations keep getting worse to the point he actually sees Mr Grady, the previous caretaker / murderer,  and even has a talk with him. Danny sees his changing behavior and so does his wife, who just doesn't see the man she fell in love with in his cold, distant eyes anymore. With everything going on, Wendy takes Danny to their apartment in the employee wing of the hotel and locks them inside in fear of Jack, who is slowly slipping away from reality. But turns out this move from her proves to be disastrous, as Wendy keeping Jack away from his own son is the last straw for him. In one of his many hallucinations, Jack  meets his predecessor,  his buddy Mr. Grady and the two have a disturbing conversation about how fun it is to kill your wife. Yes , no one trumps King when it comes to the unique combination of horror and psychological thrillers packed into one nail-biting plot!

In other words...

The only thing I liked about the movie was Jack Nicholson’s excellent acting. Apart from that Stanley Kubrick let go of many crucial parts which were essential to the story. He eliminated the hedge sequence in the book, which was terrifying to just read. The ending was just a complete mess.  I get that you can’t exactly get all the details right of a 500 page book, but at least do justice to the ones you have chosen. Anyways I’m gonna go sulk in my room over this. Bye

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Is it too late to start Anime?

Hi there! Good to have you back! Ever since pandemic began, everyone’s been locked in their own house. So this led to me taking up a few hobbies like sketching and painting and binging on a whole lot of sitcoms.. My personal favorite is the alluring world of Anime. Several of my friends began watching it and I cannot exactly term it as peer pressure, but I did give in and start watching Anime too. And now my watchlist includes just a bunch of 2D characters with powers that even Superman himself can't fight. So this is my take on how a kryptonian can be defeated with Jutsu, as Mr Naruto would say. Lol. This one is for all the weebs out there. 

Manga and Anime are not the same!

To put it simply, manga is a Japanese term for comics and graphic novels, whereas Anime is the term for Japanese animations.. There are many similarities  between them, as they both have been created by Osama Tezuka, who is considered as the Japanese version of Walt Disney. Now have you ever seen a simple comic book? The one with black and white newspaper illustrations - like Garfield. Manga is just like that -  A book of illustrations. Now we arrive at the perennial question - Manga or Anime, which is better. Both of them are equally interesting, but I personally have a soft spot for anime. The intro theme songs, intense background music, and the beat dropping right before a big fight move, all these factors pack a punch. You don’t get that adrenaline rush from just a book.

My first anime - Demon Slayer

The story begins with the main character Tanjiro, who returns home after selling charcoal in town to find his entire family murdered by demons. Pretty intense right? His sister, Nezuko, survives but there’s a twist - she turns into a demon herself.  This makes him vow to take revenge and he sets off to train with Sakonji, who has trained many of the elite members of the Demon Slayer Corps. After many years of training and a painful exam called the final selection, Tanjiro finally becomes a demon slayer and is off on missions along with his sister, who unlike most demons doesn’t consume human flesh. On his missions he meets Zenitsu and Inosuke, who both have excellent powers of their own. My favorite story arc was when the highest ranking slayers, known as the pillars, were introduced. But my words won’t do justice to their powers they possess. So simply get your geek on by watching this short yet amazing series.

The Tale of Naruto Uzumaki

The hidden leaf village is not so hidden anymore! The series I am currently watching is one of the most popular anime from 2020 - Naruto.   The story is set around the shinobi villages and their ninjas and how Naruto Uzumaki plans on being the next Hokage [the most powerful shinobi] of the leaf village. He is trained by some of the best ninjas the village has ever seen. Before graduating from the academy, he was a hyperactive boy with lots of energy who just wanted to be the best. After graduation, he was placed in team seven, along with Sakura Haruno and Sasuke Uchiha. This team was trained by Kakashi Sensei who is known for wielding his Chidori and even the Sharingan. The sharingan, to put it simply, is a trait passed down in families. The Uchihas are known for their sharingans and hence it naturally comes to Sasuke as well. The mystery still remains unsolved as to how Kakashi got his sharingan, as he is not an Uchiha. But Naruto does have a super power as well. Not technically his powers per se,  but we can cut him some slack. After all it's not everyday you get to see a beast like the nine tailed fox sealed away in an 11 year old boy. In my opinion the story picks up Orochimaru’s entry, and it paves the way for Sasuke’s powers in the future. My favorite character has to be Sasuke Uchiha. With his effortless fighting skills and sarcastic yet cool personality, he definitely is an excellent shinobi. You have to start this show right away because once you have seen him use his fire style fireball jutsu.....the world just doesn't look the same anymore.

In other words...

My current watchlist includes Naruto Shippuden, Black Clover, One Piece, and a few other naruto spin offs. Anime was something I never thought I would like, but now as it turns out I can't get enough of it. So bye for now, if you need me I'll be at Ichiraku’s eating ramen with barbeque pork. And if you get this reference, have a bowl of ramen on me. K bye.

Home in a faraway land

Good to see you again ! Do you ever get that feeling of an intense craving for your favourite dish? Like say pasta or pizza? My favorite is pasta, but being raised in India, I can’t say no to a classic plate of butter naan and chicken tikka with a glass of buttermilk or chaas if you please. Of Course you can’t beat the taste of a home cooked meal, but let me tell you about the time I went to this amazing little Indian restaurant in Dubai with my family, and how the food there was absolutely heavenly. 

Out and About in Dubai

Skyscrapers, Sleepless nights, Gold Souks and gigantic malls - these are the visions  you'd usually get when someone mentions Dubai. Well, they're mostly right! I went there with my family about 5 years ago. We stayed at the Ramada, which was right next to the Dubai Mall.  The mall happens to be strategically placed next to the Burj Khalifa and we got lucky enough to see mesmerizing musical fountain shows night after night. The streets are spick and span, and everyone follows the traffic regulations dutifully. We also went for the desert safari, which was no less than an actual roller coaster ride. We also visited the Gold Souk, and oh boy. The name definitely fulfills its purpose, as the entire street is occupied entirely by gold stores. Huge gold ornaments are on display like clothes on hangers. I personally don’t have a thing for gold jewellery, but my mom had the time of her life there fawning and gasping over every store we came across. Shortly after our visit here, we came across this beautiful little Indian restaurant, and you can call me old school but at the end of the day, this girl needs a desi meal, because trust me room service gets boring after a while.

Peshwa - Not your typical 5 star restaurant 

Situated away from the hustle of the main city, this place still remains quite underrated. We stumbled across this hidden gem which saved us the efforts of getting back to the hotel for an overpriced lunch. As soon as we entered the restaurant, we could smell the aroma of a classic dal makhani  [ a simple gravy consisting of lentils infused with aromatic spices and hints of burnt chillies ] in the air. So we got a table and had a look at the menu and it was almost like being back home. The endless variety of gravies with paneer in almost every single one of them, to at least 6 different types of rotis, a little piece of heaven in this concrete jungle! We went ahead and ordered a simple meal of rotis and some paneer delicacy, along with dal and rice. Apart from the taste of the food, which was just heavenly, the overall ambience of the place in one word, was exquisite. The restaurant lived up to its very ethnic maharashtrian name. The food was served in those traditional style cutlery, reminding us of a simpler time.

A dish you just can’t miss 

If you have a sweet tooth like me, you definitely have to try the coconut barfi from this place. Made from desiccated coconuts, sweetened condensed milk, a finely ground cardamom, and a hint of saffron, this dish is a match made in heaven. It was freshly made and we could tell it by the intoxicating aroma of pure ghee [clarified butter]. So just for a day, give yourself a break from watching calories and try this mouth watering dish because here’s something to live for.

In other words…

The next time I’m in Dubai, the first thing I will do is find out if the restaurant is still there. And probably avoid the Gold Souk this time. I will most certainly go for the desert safari, because it’s not everyday you get defy gravity and drive through the sand dunes like in a Fast and Furious movie. Lol.  Also thanks for bearing with me throughout this blog. See ya!

[minyoongiest]

Positions || KNJ (M)

• pairing: Namjoon x reader

• rating: MA/18+

• type/genre: smut, fluff, multichapter, idol!au, established relationship, nurse!reader/single mom!reader/stylist!reader

• word count: 5.7k

• summary: After a long day working at the hospital in Seoul, you’re ready to spend some alone time with your man, and since your daughter is staying with her aunt for the night, Namjoon has some ideas for how to work off the stress of your day.

• contains: explicit language, explicit sexual content, oral (both receiving, not simultaneously), vaginal sex, multiple sex positions, multiple orgasms, creampie

• note: a commission for K. Thank you so much! I loved doing this, and I hope you like it!

(translations are at the end)

|| ao3 ||

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As soon as I shut the door to my car, I let out a sigh of relief. I like my job. (I like more that it pays my bills.) But no matter how much I like it, being on my feet all day and trying to do a million things at once so patients are taken care of and the doctors and my supervisors are happy is exhausting. I am so glad to be off and that I don’t have another shift for forty-eight hours because I need a break.

Checking my face in the sun visor mirror, I’m pleased to find my eye makeup is still intact. I was pretty sure by this time I’d look like as haggard as I feel, but my eyeliner is still perfectly winged, and my mascara isn’t even smudged. Tilting the mirror, I turn my neck to check my hair. It’s in a tied back for function, but practicality doesn’t trump style. Not for me, which is why it’s sleek and straight rather than just haphazardly thrown into a ponytail.

“Time to go home and get out of these scrubs,” I murmur, starting my car.

My phone rings as I’m pulling out of the parking garage, and my heart flutters when I see his name on my car screen. I use the button on the steering wheel to answer.

“Hey, I’m just leaving the hospital.”

“Oh, good. Are you on your way to pick up my angel?”

“Actually, I have two days off, so my sister is picking her up and keeping her for the night.”

His angel is my daughter from a previous relationship. Her dad split before she was born, so it was just me and her until Namjoon and I randomly matched on Tinder. At first, I wasn’t actually sure it was really, truly him because Namjoon being Namjoon it seemed like it was definitely a hoax, but I agreed to meet up with him just to see, and what was supposed to be a hookup turned into a fancy dinner date followed by a casual lunch date and then drinks at his apartment after work which turned into a naked sleepover…

That sort of went on for a few months, in which I introduced him to my daughter through pictures and stories, and then they met in person, which was exciting and nerve-wracking for me, but she adores him, and he adores her. So on the night of our sixth month anniversary when he asked how I felt about us moving in with him, there wasn’t much for me to think about.

“Oh,” he says softly. “So, we’re alone for the night?”

“Yes.”

“And you don’t have to be up for work?”

“No.” I bite my lip as I stop at a red light and flip on my turn signal. “I do have to go get her before noon though, so I can’t be in bed all day.”

“That’s okay,” he answers quickly. “I have a schedule before that, so I’ll be up.”

“Are you still at the studio?”

“Yeah. I want to get a few more things recorded before I head home. Do you want me to pick up takeout on my way?”

“That would be great. I have some stuff to do around the house, and I had an email about a styling job I want to look into, so that works for me.”

“Okay. I’ll see you at home. Later, baby.”

“Bye.”

He hangs up, and my phone switches to a Spotify playlist. As I drive the last few miles, I do a mental rundown of the things I need to get done before he gets home. In addition to looking into the styling contract, I want to get the dishes in the sink washed first and then cut up the fresh fruit in the fridge for my girl’s lunches next week, and if I have time go ahead and fold some of the clean laundry sitting in the basket in the laundry room.

The actual first thing I do when I walk into the apartment is take off my scrubs and hop into she shower to wash off my day, literally, since I work in healthcare. When I get out, I pull on a pair of sweatpants and a tank top before I go to the kitchen to start loading the dishwasher. While it’s running, I do the fruit which isn’t my favorite thing to do since it gets boring, but it’s so much easier to pack lunches when the fruit is done and ready to grab from the fridge.

Finally, I settle down on the couch with a glass of champagne and my computer to go over the details of the styling job. Since I already knew it would require the most of my time I have before Namjoon gets home, I saved it for last. After I skim the entire email, I take another sip of my drink before setting my glass aside and scrolling back up to the details that pique my interest—what designers their looking for, what the concept of the style is, and how soon they need it done. If those things work for me, the next thing I’ll look at is compensation, but I have to be interested enough to want the job first.

“Gucci…Balenciaga…Dior…” I mutter to myself as I make notes in a separate window on my computer.

As I look slowly through the email again, I’m thinking of what connections I have with which designers and if I can put something together. Before I had my kid and went back to school to be a nurse to support her, this is what I did. During that time, I met a lot of people in the industry, so I know someone pretty much everywhere.

“Oh, if that’s the concept…” I close my eyes for a second to picture different pieces from different collections.

“Dior.”

As soon as I say it, my phone starts to ring, making me jump. I see my daughter’s face on the screen and realize how late it is. She must be going to bed.

“Hey babe,” I answer, closing my laptop and setting it aside.

“Hi, Mommy.”

“Are you having fun at your sleepover?”

“Yes, Mommy. We made cookies and then we went outside and then we had pizza and played games and then we watched Rapunzel and had ice cream.”

“Wow. That’s a lot of things.”

And a lot of sugar. I’m not mad at my sister. She can spoil her if she wants. I’m just surprised she’d do that to herself knowing my kid is going to be bouncing off the walls until she crashes.

“Mommy, when are you coming to get me?”

I sigh and ignore the way my heart gets all soft. “Tomorrow at lunch time.”

“Okay, Mommy…” I can hear her frown, and I hate it.

“Do you have your pillow?” I stand and start to check her bedroom. If she doesn’t have it, she won’t sleep, and as much as I want a night to myself, I also need my kid to sleep.

“Yes, Mommy, and my pajamas.”

“Oh good.”

I start to ask her another question when I hear the door open, and I turn to look as Namjoon comes in holding a paper sack with our takeout order.

“Hey, baby,” he says quietly, his stupidly pretty face splitting into a grin.

Fuck. Those damn dimples. I can’t.

I see his eyes go to the phone in my hand before he asks, “Who are you talking to?”

“JOONIE!”

I jerk the phone away from my ear as my daughter shrieks into it.

“Oh, let me talk to her,” he says as he rushes to put the food down on the bar top and hurries over to me.

I hand him the phone and watch as he lifts it to his ear.

“How’s my angel tonight?” he asks gently, sitting down on the arm of the couch. “Oh really? … Well that’s good. Did you have fun at school?”

I press my lips together as I wander over to the food and start pulling things out of the bag.

“Well, maybe Monday it’ll be easier,” he says quietly. “Okay?”

He laughs softly, and I can’t help but look over at him. God, he really loves my baby.

“Goodnight, angel,” he whispers. “Do you want to tell your mom goodnight? … Okay, I’ll tell her.”

He hangs up, and I pretend I wasn’t spying as I set out the rest of the food.

“She said she misses you,” his low voice rumbles into my ear as he comes up behind me, his arm sliding around my waist.

“She’ll be okay.”

“She also told me to kiss you goodnight for her,” he says softer.

“Oh yeah?” I tilt my head back to look at him.

“Mmhmm.” He leans down a few inches and his lips brush mine, a pleasant shiver running down my spine.

Damn those soft lips. Why do they feel so good?

“I don’t think that’s the goodnight kiss she meant,” I whisper.

“Oh, you want another one?”

He smirks and leans down to kiss my cheek, his arms squeezing tight around my stomach.

“Quit. Quit!” I pull away. “We need to eat still.”

“Hmm. Okay, but I’m coming back to this later.”

“Sounds good to me,” I mumble as he walks around the counter to the fridge where he grabs a beer.

“What do you want to drink?” He glances over his shoulder at me.

I sort of finished the champagne already, so I shrug and say, “I’ll have what you’re having.”

“Cool. Do you want your own or some of mine?”

“Some of yours is fine.”

He nods, and I wait for him to grab his food and head to the couch before I follow him, setting mine on the coffee table while I get comfortable before I reach for it again.

Namjoon talks to me while he eats. About anything. About everything. He tells me about work (at least vaguely), about what memes the members are talking about in the group chat, about changing his hair color… Aside from the occasional comment, I eat and listen to him. I could say more, but just listening to him talk makes me happy.

When we’re finished, he gathers up our trash and then decides to take the bag out because it’s too full to close the trash can. While he’s gone, I go to empty the dishwasher. I mean, normally, I would leave it especially since we’re alone for the night which is rare and usually means something very naughty and very fun is going to happen, but the cabinet has literally no plates or cups in it, and I don’t want to forget and have to rush to do them later. Plus, I have a bunch of nervous energy, and I need to do something until he gets back.

The top rack is empty and I’m halfway through the bottom rack when Joon comes into the kitchen.

“I figured you’d be in the bedroom,” he says in a low tone.

“I was killing time.” I shrug. “And now that I started I might as well finish.”

“Let me help you.”

He reaches down and grabs the rest of the plates and moves behind me, reaching over my head toward the cabinet, so close his chest touches my back.

Which is when I feel it.

Feel him.

Thick and hard and pressed against my ass.

I suck in a breath and bite my lip.

“Baby, you okay?”

“Fuck the dishes,” I whisper.

“What?”

Turning around carefully, still pinned between him and the counter, I look up at him, while at the same time sliding my hand down between us, cupping his firm bulge.

He winces, and I see his eyes flash.

“I want this,” I murmur as I give it the faintest squeeze.

He grits his teeth and grabs onto the counter next to my hip.

“Shit,” he mutters.

I start to ask what that means when suddenly he grabs my waist and lifts me onto the counter.

“What are you doing?” I whisper.

“You started this,” he says roughly as his eyes darken with arousal and he steps between my thighs, reaching for the waistband of my pants.

“Wait, right now?” My voice gets higher, and I bite my lip.

“I’m starting right now.”

I don’t get to ask what that means because his hands start pulling on my sweats and I almost slide off the counter before I reach back and push up on my wrists so they’ll slide off.

My panties go with them.

Oh God. My bare ass is on my kitchen counter. And Namjoon is between my knees. Cool air glides over my exposed pussy and I bite my lip, fighting a whimper.

“Mmm.” Namjoon’s eyes travel over me, landing on the now-pulsing place between my thighs.

Instinctively, I try to close my legs, but his hips are in the way.

“Don’t hide from me,” he says softly, his fingers trailing over my skin, from my knee toward my hip, along my inner thigh. I stop breathing as the edge of his fingertip traces the outside of my lower lips.

He leans closer, bending so his face is right there. My hands grip the edge of the counter tightly as a rush of wet saturates between my legs.

“I think I want dessert now,” Namjoon says softly as he straightens.

“What?” I blink.

I—He just—I thought we were going to—

All of the sudden he drops to his knees, and my spine goes rigid. He moves closer to the counter, his large hands on my legs, his eyes on my pussy. He pauses, and my eyelids flutter closed. I try not to moan as he exhales, a warm stream of air hitting directly against wet slit.

“Joon…” I swallow. “What are you–”

“Eating,” he rumbles, his mouth brushing against me as he says it.

My back arches instantly as his tongue dips in between my lips and runs the length of me.

“Namjoon,” I gasp as his large hands slide under my thighs, lifting them, pulling them apart as he tilts his head and plants a gentle kiss right there.

He kisses again. Harder.

And then he starts sucking.

First on one side. Then the other. And slowly from the front to the back. My back arches, forcing me further into his mouth, and I moan loudly. Without missing a beat, he tilts his head and sucks deep, his tongue darting out again, teasing me. I swear under my breath and one of my hands slides down into his hair.

His eyes lift to mine, and I feel the heat of them where his thumbs are slowly pulling me open. He smirks, and I feel it in my nipples, which tighten painfully right before he lowers his head again, his soft lips rubbing over my throbbing ones before the flat of his tongue laps them, the tip flicking across my clit.

“Son of a bitch,” I whisper.

He laughs against me, and I swear I almost come. Except he stops.

“Namjoon, what are you waiting–”

I choke on my question when he suddenly sucks hard, his teeth grazing my lips before his fingers pull me open and he tongue drives inside.

I swallow a scream as my head flies back as he fucks me with his mouth. Sucking and licking and his tongue moving in and out of me. He quickly adds two of his long ass fingers, which only makes me crazier. My hand on the edge of the counter is holding on so tight it might be cutting into my palm. The other is fisting his hair, my thighs clamped around his face as he devours me.

He grunts against me, and I whimper at the sensation. I’m so close I could cry.

“Joon,” I plead softly. “I want… I want to–”

One of his thumbs rolls over my swollen clit at the same time his tongue and fingers thrust deep. I come instantly, exploding in his mouth as I fall back on my elbows, moaning his name. His hands move to my ass, pulling it off the edge of the counter and against his face as he continues to suck and lick my wildly spasming pussy. When I come down, his tongue runs along my slit one last time before he puts my bare ass back on the counter and climbs to his feet.

“I can’t feel my legs,” I whisper as he rests his hand by my hip, leaning in to kiss me.

“Mmm.” He smirks against my mouth, and I realize I can taste myself on his lips.

I get wet instantly at the thought, and reach up to put my hands on his shoulders.

“I guess that means you’ll have to carry me to the bedroom,” I murmur.

He makes a low growling sound as his large hands yank my hips against his, my trembling legs instantly locking around his ass, as he lifts me off the counter and starts down the hall. My lips land on his neck (because how can I resist?), and I suck gently as my hands slide over his massive pecs down over his abs, toward his—

“Ah!” I gasp as my back hits the wall.

“You just came in my mouth,” he grunts into my ear as my hands pull at his belt. “And you’re still this horny?”

I can’t answer because his lips land on mine, pushing my head back against the wall, distracting me completely from unbuttoning his pants. I nip at his plump lower lip, and he grunts, taking control of the kiss. My lips part in surprise, and I whimper as his tongue slides over mine. My arm curls around the side of his neck, one of my hands driving into his messy hair. His fingers dig into my ass as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss even more.

He presses forward, pinning me completely to the wall, before his hands let me go. I let out a small scream, tearing my mouth from his, my hands going to his shoulders to keep from falling.

“Namjoon, what are you doing now?”

“Clothes,” he curses.

His fingers curl into the hem of my top, and I jerk as he yanks it over my head, leaving me completely naked.

“Better,” he whispers, his eyes traveling over my exposed skin with awe.

“The bedroom is so close,” I remind him, looping my arms around his neck and teasing the curve of his ear with my tongue.

He grunts and his hands return to my ass, lifting me higher, causing my boobs to bounce. I moan softly when my nipple grazes his lips.

“Bedroom,” he says softly.

“Yeah,” I tilt my head down and kiss the side of his jaw. “The faster the better.”

His soft lips press against my neck, and I quit breathing for a second as he moves us out of the living area. My eyes flutter closed as he begins sucking on my skin. Gently at first and then harder. My hand moves down again, over his chest and abs, zeroing in on his fly. I’m already naked, so my first priority is to even the playing field.

I get his zipper down and his teeth sink into my neck in surprise when my fingers brush against the feverish lump behind it.

“Shit,” he groans. “Let me get to the bed first,” he grunts. “If you keep that up, I’ll drop you.”

“Don’t you dare.”

I try to sound threatening, but it’s hard when his fingers are clenching at my bare ass, holding me tight to his hips, the bulge of his erection grazing against me. Instead it sounds weak and desperate. Which is exactly how I feel right now.

“Mm.”

He moves faster, his lips abandoning my neck as he pushes into the bedroom and throws me on the bed. A small cry leaves my throat, and I whirl around on all fours to look at him.

“What the hell, Namjoon?”

“’Bouta come in my pants,” he swears softly, reaching over his head to pull his shirt off with one hand.

“What?” I blink.

“Nothing,” he says as he swallows, tossing the shirt aside. “Come here.”

He stalks toward the bed, and I scrambled backward.

“Hey, whoa, slow down.”

“Slow down?” He stops at the edge of the mattress and raises a single eyebrow.

A jolt goes through my pussy, and I feel hot all over.

“You were all about going fast two seconds ago,” he says in a low tone.

“Well, yes, but you’re being really…”

“Horny?”

“Aggressive,” I whisper.

Fuck. It’s so hot.

Both his eyebrows rise, and I bite my lip.

“You want me to stop?”

“N-no…” I slide off my side of the bed and walk around the foot.

His eyes follow me, and then his body as he turns to face me when I stop in front of him.

“What are you doing?” He frowns in confusion.

“I just was thinking…” I reach down and unto the button of his pants. “You got dessert on the kitchen counter…”

A throb hits between my legs as I say it, and I clench my thighs together.

“Yeah, so?”

“Well, what about me?” I look up at him as I edge my fingers into the waistband of his pants. “I don’t get some?”

He opens his mouth and I slide my hands into his underwear, my fingertips instantly finding burning, turgid skin.

“Fuck,” he groans, his hands reaching out to grab my wrists. “Hold on.”

“I want to blow you,” I whisper.

“I guessed that.”

His face twists in pain, and for a second, I almost feel guilty.

“Let me sit down first.”

I pull my hands out and wait while he shoves his pants down and off and reaches for his underwear.

“I want to do that,” I pipe up, putting my hand on his shoulder.

“Oh?” His eyes flick up to mine, and I gently push his torso, urging him to sit.

His fine ass lowers to the mattress, and I slide my hands down his chest and abs and over his thighs as I get on my knees in front of him.

I reach for the band of his underwear and tug, squirming as his mammoth cock springs free. He hisses and his hand on the bed fists the sheets.

The longer I look at it the wetter I get. It’s not just big, it’s angry. Red with veins everywhere, the thickest one running up the underside. I swear I can see it throbbing. The head is visibly swollen with precum glistening at the slit. I’m a little surprised his zipper didn’t bust open trying to contain it.

I reach out to touch it, and he tenses.

“I’m not going to bite it,” I mumble.

He makes a low sound, and I put one hand on his thigh as I reach out with my other one and run my fingers from top to bottom.

God, it’s on fire.

The heat of it shoots straight from my fingertips to the aching spot between my legs.

“Ppalli-ga,” he grunts, and I know I have to move faster.

From  how hard he is, I can tell he’s already close. It won’t take much for him to blow.

Moving closer, I bend my head and lick up one side. One of his hands lands on my head, and I immediately repeat the motion. His grip tightens, and I begin licking everywhere. It doesn’t take long before he’s ready. (Not to mention he’s leaking precum like crazy.) When I’m done licking him, I sit back to catch my breath.

Fuck, it’s thick. I always forget how sore my jaw is after I blow him. Probably because I enjoy it so much that I don’t care.

“Goddammit, baby, suck me,” he groans, and I look up to see his head thrown back and the veins in his neck popping.

Wetness floods between my legs, and I gasp, gripping his thigh tighter.

His hips come off the bed, and I jerk back to avoid being smacked in the face with his dick.

“Okay,” I murmur. “I’m starting.”

He nods, or rather, jerks his chin forward, and I lower head, the bulbous tip sliding between my lips.

“Oh my God,” he groans.

I suck slowly at first and then harder as I move up and down. I use my fingers to toy with his balls and to tease the base until I’m ready to take all of it.

I hold my breath as I tilt my head and open my mouth as wide as I can, forcing his massive length between my lips. My jaw pops, and I wince.

His fingers slide into my hair and grip tight as I start to slide up and all the way down again.

“What are you doing?” he grunts suddenly. “Stop. Stop.”

I do but only because he sounds worried.

“I want to do this,” I tell him instantly. “Don’t make me stop now.”

“I’m hurting you. I can feel it,” he murmurs, letting me go.

“Well stop feeling it.” I frown at him, straightening my spine. “All you should feel is orgasmic.”

“Baby–”

“Let me deep throat you, Namjoon. I want to make you feel good.”

He sighs, and I lick the tip of his cock again.

“It does feel good, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he mutters. “It feels fucking amazing.”

“Then don’t stop me, okay?”

“Fine.” He leans back, presenting his big dick to me again. “Go ahead.”

Before he even has the whole word out, I have him in my mouth again. I have to figure out my breathing as I go, making sure to suck deep and not graze him with my teeth. I move faster and suck harder with every entrance, ignoring the way his tip feels ramming into the back of my throat.

He starts swearing softly. And then louder. And then all at once in a mixture of Korean and English. His hand goes back to my hair and holds tight as his hips start bucking into me.

He’s going to come soon. I’m certain of it. Bracing for his load, I continue to suck and lick at his thrusting cock.

Suddenly he pulls out, practically standing as he fists my hair and holds my head still where I can’t get my mouth on him.

“I’m gonna come,” he gasps, his raspy voice sending small vibrations through my whole body.

“Okay, so?” I ask hoarsely. “Let me swallow it.”

“Don’t wanna wait to get hard again,” he explains gruffly. “I want to come inside you but not in your mouth.”

“You have a long refractory period,” I remind him. “You could still fuck me even after I suck you dry.”

“Not this time,” he shakes his head, the veins in his neck still popping. “I’ve been thinking about this all day, and I have things I want to do before I come.”

“Can you last that long?” I ask softly, my eyebrows rising as I glance back at his swollen, wet cock.

I’ve gotten him off enough to know he’s at his absolute limit right now.

“I just need a minute to come down a little,” he says breathlessly. “Then I can keep going.”

“Mmm…okay.”

“Get up on the bed.”

I climb off of my knees slowly, ignoring the tiny bursts of pain in my knees as I crawl onto the mattress. He stands next to the bed, and I watch him inhale and exhale slowly as he regains control over his urge to come.

“Namjoon, if you need to finish, I can–”

“I got it,” he interrupts gruffly. “Lie down on you back for me.”

I blink as he starts to climb on the bed.

“Now, baby. Spread your legs.”

He’s still close, I realize, but he wants to do this anyway, that’s why he’s in such a hurry.

Quickly moving up the bed, I turn onto my back with my head in the pillows like he said. Before I can breathe, he’s on top of me, his giant pecs in my face, his fucking huge biceps on either side of my head.

“You ready for me?” he grunts softly, his fingers dragging through the wet between my legs even as he asks it.

I gasp instead of answering.

“Mm.” He nods, biting his lip. “That’s a yes.”

“Joon…”

“This is going to be rough,” he says quietly. “Can you handle that?”

“Yeah. I can handle—ah!”

My words dissolve into a sharp cry as he suddenly drives into me. My legs lock tight around his hips as I feel it—the fat tip, the thick shaft, his balls against my lips. All of it hot and pulsing and stretching me wide. My pussy squeezes around it, and I hiss his name like a swear word as my back bows off the bed.

“Fuck, your pussy is a miracle,” he groans.

“You’re so thick,” I moan at him. “A little warning next–”

He moves again. Pulling out and thrusting back in. I choke on my sentence and grab onto his broad shoulders. He keeps going, fast, rough just like he said, pounding into me.  One of his hands slides around my thigh under my ass to hold me steady. His other slides inside to the front of my slit, his large thumb zeroing in on my clit which he begins rubbing furiously.

“Namjoon!”

I don’t even feel it building before I’m coming as he continues to growl and jerk against me. I’m not done when he pulls out.

“Wha-what are you–”

“Next position,” he gasps as he grabs my legs and flips me onto my belly.

“I’m still coming, Joon. Wait–”

He doesn’t. Instead, he hooks an arm under my hips and pulls them up, forcing my knees open with his own before he puts a hand on my back and gently pushes my cheek into the pillows.

“Oh God,” I whisper.

His other hand rests on my ass squeezing lightly before I feel him pushing into me again.

“Oh God!”

He slams back into my still-coming pussy, and I whimper into the pillow. It feels so good and so deep—even deeper than before.

“You okay?” he leans over me, his hand coming up to cup my breast. “Too much?”

“Don’t stop,” I murmur. “It’s too good.”

I hear him laugh in surprise, and I feel it in my nipples, which he’s doing a fabulous job toying with. Suddenly, he grabs my whole boob in his hand and starts rutting into me. My knees spread wider on their own and I grab onto the pillow with both hands, my mouth parted in a silent moan.

“Baby?”

“I’m coming,” I hiss. “Again. Harder this time.”

I squeal when he sits up suddenly taking me with him. I’m still full of him, straddling his thighs, which are resting on his heels as he continues to jerk into me, his hands on my chest holding me to him. I grab his wrists with both my hands without thinking. My head falls back on his shoulder, and I press my lips to his neck. My body feels exhausted and overstimulated and like I’ll never stop orgasming.

He grunts sharply, and I feel his hips tense.

“Come with me,” he whispers, his lips landing on my shoulder.

“I can’t,” I choke.

Or I am. I can’t even tell now.

“Just one more,” he bites out. “Now. Now!”

He drives up into me as he comes. My walls spasm at the hot fluid spurting inside me, and I gasp as I another orgasm hits below my belly, racing up my  spine, down my aching legs and up into my nipples. He buries his face in my shoulder, and I struggle to catch my breath as I finally come down. He’s still coming even after I’m finished, probably because he kept bringing himself so close to an orgasm only to delay it again and again. When he finally relaxes, he lifts me off of him slowly, and I lie down on my stomach in the bed next to him.

“I need to clean up,” he says gruffly. “Clean you up too.”

I nod because I’m so exhausted I’m not sure I can speak. When he comes back with a rag, I roll onto my side and wince at the ache in my legs.

“What?” He frowns instantly. “Did I hurt you? I was too rough, wasn’t I? Fuck.”

“No.” I shake my head at him. “I really liked that.”

“Oh…” He blinks. “You did?”

“I came like four times or something,” I remind him. “I definitely liked it.”

“Well…good.”

He runs the rag between my legs and over my thighs, and when he walks away, I grab his pillow and pull it under my cheek.

“Are you going to sleep now?” he asks softly when he comes back.

“Mmm. I don’t know,” I whisper. “I could. You wore me out.”

“I was hoping to watch a little TV first.”

“Okay,” I mumble, “but body is a puddle, so, if we’re going to cuddle, you’re going to have to pick me up.”

He yanks on some sweat pants and climbs in bed beside me.

“I can read if you want to just go to sleep now,” he says quietly.

“Mm.”

“You have to sit up though while I put this shirt on you.”

“Why?” I yawn. “I can sleep naked.”

He clears his throat, and I watch his eyes skim over my body.

“Trust me,” he says hoarsely, “you need to put on this shirt.”

I bite my lip as he reaches over to help me into the oversized FG shirt. I collapse into his pillow again as soon as it’s on, the warm, soft fabric that smells like him making me even sleepier.

“Goodnight, baby,” he murmurs as he reaches over me to grab his book off the nightstand.

“Goodnight, Namjoon.”

My eyes flutter closed as I feel his soft lips press against my temple, and then I fall into a blissful, post-orgasmic sleep.

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

Translations:

Ppalli-ga - go fast

[mooncalfed]

I Have Listened to Every Lie: Chapter 7 [M]

I’m back. This is unedited.

Nara stands at the base of the staircase, trying to ignore the first flutters of anxiety that lick at the base of her spine.

She snatches a glance in the mirror and is pleased with what she sees. Her makeup artist is evidently pleased too, his satisfied tuts ringing in the spacious area. Crouching down at her feet is her stylist, weaving soft satin ribbons from her shoe to her knee. The deep red of the shoe matches her lips, and she knows she is enchanting.

A rustle behind her. Every molecule of her body trembles.

Nara sighs. Even her body can’t deny that she’s still impossibly in love with him.

She turns to her husband, who stands poised at the top of the stairs, in the middle of fiddling with a cufflink. The unoccupied hand holds his phone, which in turn occupies his attention.

Nara sighs again, differently this time. She turns back towards the door just in time to see the help dart their eyes away. Whether or not they’re pitying her, she doesn’t know.

She pities herself though.

The helpers step back as Yoongi reaches the bottom step. With his phone call ended, he reaches her in silence even though Nara can feel his heat radiating behind her. She always knows where he is in proximity to her. It’s always been like that.

Drawn to him, she turns. He offers a small, but genuine smile.

“You look wonderful”, he breathes, and her breath is taken away.

Yoongi presses a fleeting kiss to the corner of her temple. Nara slides her eyes nervously to the helpers. They’ve averted their eyes politely, and she is relieved. She has never been one for public displays of affection, but now that she is seeing herself in a newfound light, his actions feel particularly phoney.

When she looks back to her husband, his gaze is inscrutable. It makes her nervous, and she can’t afford to be more anxious tonight. After all, tonight her mother-in-law will be watching. Perhaps Yoongi is only being pleasant in order to make sure she’s perfect tonight.

Nara is overcome with a sudden overwhelming urge to flee. She’s wearing red shoes – might as well dance herself to death tonight.  

“Shall we go?” She titters breezily, stepping easily back into her designated role.

At her husband’s nod a clutch is slid into her hand, and she floats to the door.

The Min family Rolls Royce is waiting for them. Only one out of the entire fleet, Nara supposes. She isn’t surprised; she knows very well the wealth the Min family wields, and how they exercise it.

She remembers the last meeting with Yoongi’s mother, and it makes her shiver.

Her husband’s warm hand on her back is a balm as he guides her to the car, chauffeur waiting and ready. He slides in to the other side and so they sit together, separated by a thick cloud of silence.

Minutes fly by, and the soft purr of the engines soothes Nara’s nervous mind.

It gives her time to reflect.

The last month has been strange, if nothing else.

The night Nara moved back into the mansion felt like a bookend in her life of some sort; now that she’d had her taste of true freedom, the sensation of what it was like to breathe easy, it somehow made her life around Yoongi better and worse.

It was easier in that she is more able to step outside of herself, operate almost independently of her feelings and act logically. Perhaps for the first time in her life.

This inward shift of hers is neither alarming nor a relief. It just is. She can’t say that she is happy with the way things are – living with and loving a man who sees her when he needs to –, but it just is.

But her step outside into the real world has lit something deep within her. She craves the life of ordinary others around her in the way she craves Yoongi’s gaze on her. It isn’t that they are competing desires in her life. It merely means that her life has a larger capacity now.

Yet there are still some moments where the equilibrium between the two seems to tip. On the nights when their bodies are intertwined and they scream each other’s names to the heavens, Nara swears that her desire for freedom trumps her desire for Yoongi. At least then she is free to convince herself that the man between her thighs is there because he wants to be. It’s painful to be present with him, when she is absent in his heart.

Nara stares out the window of her seat and notices that even in her reflection, her eyes look dull. Apathy it seems, is her only friend these days.

-

When the car rolls to a stop, Nara is ready.

The windows may be tinted, but she knows what awaits. It’s all familiar to her, this schtick.

Yoongi steps out first, and is immediately bombarded by cameras. Nara waits for him to cross to her side, and when he offers her his hand, she takes it with a slightly desperate grip.

People are saying their names left and right. The paparazzi are thrilled, the staff momentarily distracted, and guests both strange and familiar turn to them. Gazes are appraising, full of envy and quiet submission.

Moments like these give her confidence. They reassure her that she is young, beautiful, and relevant.  

Up the stairs they go. One graceful step at a time. Marching into warfare.  

Yoongi’s mother is waiting for them just inside the door. She looks intense, and beautiful.

“So happy that you’re both here,” she smiles, giving her son a squeeze of the hand and Nara an acknowledging glance. “I know it’s a lot, but do try to have fun. Remember to mingle. You have to present a united front.”

It’s blunt alright, but Nara understands what she’s saying. Of course, she knows that half of the glances being sent their way are from young women, eager to identify chinks in their marital armour.

Yoongi diligently nods and squeezes Nara’s hand. “Yes mother, please don’t worry about us.”

“It’s not you that I worry about.” His mother replies, skewering Nara with a hard glance. Beside her, Yoongi stiffens. Then his mother walks away without so much as a goodbye.

For a moment Nara is floored by the woman’s wilful blindness. When it comes to her son, she believes that Min Yoongi can do no wrong. Despite her son opening his protegee’s legs on his desk, all Nara did was open her life to let in education and now in her mother-in-law’s eyes she has somehow transformed into a leech.

The entire encounter darkens Nara’s mood terribly. As Yoongi leads her to the bar with a cautious hand the elegance and grandeur of the scene rots, and the vulgarity of it all makes her want to gag.

When her sights set upon a smooth Kim Seokjin settling down at the bar, Nara’s mood tanks just that bit further.

“Yoongi, Nara.” The handsome lawyer passes them each a drink with an irritatingly friendly demeanour.

“Hyung,” Yoongi greets, and then subtly squeezes Nara’s waist when she’s just a little too slow in her reply.

“Jin.”

Undeterred by her dourness, Jin deftly carries the conversation. “It’s so nice to see you two here tonight – it’s been a while since we’ve all attended a party together, right? Tonight’s the perfect event for you two to appear together. It’s… ” he hesitates to find the right word, “expensive.”

Nara barks an acerbic laugh. What a sneak Kim Seokjin is - never telling the truth.

“Is that why your girlfriend isn’t here?”

Despite the bite in her tone Jin does not back down, in fact his eyes twinkle all the more. He deftly dodges her arrow and politely clears his throat. Nara is disappointed that he isn’t putting up a fight, although the glare she is receiving from her husband is warning enough.

“Fiancée, actually.”

“Congratulations.” Yoongi’s felicitations are soft spoken, but full of real warmth.

Nara feels a little guilty. “My mistake. Congratulations Jin, you must be so happy.”

The man with love in his eyes smiles and says, “Thank you. She’s actually out tonight dealing with all the details of the wedding. We narrowed the options for everything down a little, but she says it’s gotten to a point where my opinions are useless to her.” The huge grin on his face doesn’t dim at all.

Yoongi coughs out a laugh. “Right? After a while it’s all just miscellaneous stuff.”

“Actually I find it quite enjoyable, apart from the apparent difference between white, cream white, and eggshell white, but as long as I get to marry her at the end of it all I’ll do what I’m told and step away when asked.” Jin’s eyes flash towards Nara, looking slightly apologetic.

Ever slow on the uptake, Nara realises that he’s trying to make up for the casual indifference of her own husband’s attitude towards weddings, and a deep wedge of hurt blooms in her chest. The truth is that Yoongi wasn’t involved in their wedding, but she didn’t care at the time.

A rush of anger swiftly burns through the hurt, and Nara takes a deep sip from her champagne glass. Once it is empty, she stares balefully at the bottom of the crystal, noting the sticky maroon of her lipstick and tracing her lip print with burning eyes.

She takes a deep, restorative breath, and lifts her head.

“Excuse me, I’m just going to the bathroom to freshen up.”

Yoongi’s hand leaves her back easily, and he nods as he turns to the bar.

The walk to the bathroom allows the feelings inside Nara to fester, solidify, and turn ugly. She cannot express how much it irks her that Yoongi can turn away from her so easily. Without thought, without care. As though she were just another one of the innumerable people to flit in and out of his life.

The bathroom is spacious and contains just a smattering of old ladies here and there. Nara rips a paper towel from the wall and dabs furiously at her T-zone.

She stares at her reflection in the mirror. She knows she is beautiful. She knows the slant of her nose is desirable, the shape of her eyes attractive, the curve of her lip sensual and the arch of her brow seductive. She has never had to compete with anyone in terms of physical beauty because there has simply never been any competition. It was with pride that she thought Yoongi chose her because she represented what it was to be young, rich, and gorgeous.

Her phone buzzes, and she ignores it.

If anything, now more than ever Nara thinks she is more interesting to look at. Her eyes help depth and fire, and her cheeks were aflush with emotion. Even a tremble to her lip as she tried to contain her stomach that was roiling with vexation. How vapid must she have seemed before! How utterly empty, two dimensional, and ugly.

It was therefore impossible to her that Yoongi would find her less attractive than before.

Even if he thought her a stranger, their bodies were well acquainted, and Nara would prove to him that no other would ever do for him. She would show him that looking away from her too easily was foolish.

Rattling around in her clutch were two lipstick tubes. Nara takes out a favourite of hers, an alarming red Dior shade and unwinds the flaming red from its tube. She wipes off her existing deep colour and applies a thick, impermeable layer of the brilliant rouge.

Nara meets her own eye in the mirror and smirks.

A buzz from her phone snatches her attention away.

From: Yoongi

[7:21pm - are you done?]

[7:29pm - I’m waiting for you in the conference room ]

[7:29pm - few doors down from the toilets]

She messages him as she stalks hallway back to the foyer.

Pivoting on her heel, Nara walks with determination and more than a little arousal towards the conference room.

Upon arriving at the heavy, impersonal black doors, she throws them apart and catches her husband lounging on a dark green chaise on the other side of the long room.

Although the lights of the room are off, Seoul at night does well enough at giving the room a cool, shimmering silver shine. Yoongi’s phone is unlocked, and its bright light flares on his face like a torch, making him look slightly sickly.

“You took your time,” Yoongi notes as he puts his phone down, “almost started on your drink.” He nods towards a new, taller glass of champagne.

Nara stalks towards her husband and once reaching him, slides her dress up and straddles him. Yoongi’s eyes widen in shock, and he makes to get up, but Nara instead grabs at his hands and puts them on her hips.

Slowly, coyly, she lifts the front of her dress so that he can see her nakedness.

“Too tight for underwear tonight,” she whispers, and leans forwards to trace the shape of his mouth with the tip of her tongue.

Nara can feel him rising in his suit pants, and can hear the way his breathing hitches. It makes her blood sing, his arousal. She wants to ruin him for other people, just as he did her.

Yoongi opens his mouth to take hers, but Nara stills him with a firm hand on his chest, and then trails the other down her chest. With burning but purposeful fingers she traces the curve of her breast, closer and closer to her nipple until delicious contact is made and her nipple is erect and pressing stiffly against the suddenly rough fabric of her dress.

She then leaves her breast and glides down past her navel, and it disappears in between her thighs, underneath her dress.

Yoongi’s chest heaves as he watches her. With steady fingers he lifts the edges of her dress and rolls it higher. Steadily, leisurely. There’s an art to the show, and they’re both alert and present for it.

Nara rubs her palm back and forth between the apex of her thighs, not knowing what the image is but understanding its effect on her viewer. Yoongi’s mouth is parted, and he may not be aware of it but he is panting slightly. The sound makes her smirk.

When he swallows heavily for the second time she decides that maybe it’s time, and with little to no resistance she pushes her two longest fingers inside her body. A satisfied hum erupts from her chest, and Nara closes her eyes. A few languid strokes of her fingers pass before she takes them out, and making sure that Yoongi’s eyes are on her glistening fingers, licks herself clean.

Her husband is paying rapt attention, and so his member. His hands grip tightly onto the sides of her dress, and if it weren’t for the pulsating of his dick Nara would have thought she petrified him.

Pulling herself a little higher so that she is situated over his clothed cock, Nara lowers herself and begins to grind. A vein begins to pop at Yoongi’s neck. Nara looks at it lovingly. It’s her favourite to lick, bite, graze with her teeth.

As she rocks back and forth on his cock, she lifts her left hand to his neck. Yoongi’s eyes swim with arousal as he tries to catch onto her drift. Nara turns her hand in slightly so that her palm is facing her, and with the lightest pressure she can, she strokes that vein of his with the huge diamond on her ring finger.

Nara locks eyes with Yoongi, and tries to make him understand.

“You are married to this,” she whispers, pressing the ring into his neck, “you committed to this.”

Yoongi’s eyes turn wary for an instant until he realises that she isn’t picking a fight, at least not for the moment.

Nara’s hand leaves his neck. Then, at a pace so glacial it makes Yoongi’s eyes roll she lifts her hips, unzips his fly at a speed that allows them both to hear each click click click of every zipper ridge.

Yoongi’s cock is more than ready for her to take. It’s desperately hot in her hand, and wet at the tip with his own arousal.

There’s no more waiting tonight.

Nara lines herself up, encouraged by Yoongi’s firm grasp on her waist.

But before she can lower herself onto his pulsating member below her, she needs his gaze.

“Yoongi.” She whispers, and his eyes snap to hers. Wide and filled want.

“I chose lilies for our wedding,” she whispers, and then slams down on his cock, sheathing him in one fluid motion.

Yoongi groans like it’s the first time he’s ever been inside of her but he tries his hardest not to break eye contact. Nara’s thighs clench with excitement.

She draws back up onto her knees and whispers, “I had gardenia’s in my bouquet,” and drops back down.

Up once more, faster this time.

“My dress was made of tulle.” she gasps, squeezing his tip still inside of her. Yoongi’s jaw clenches, and sweat beads at both of their brows.

“It was lined with silk.” Another grunt from Yoongi as she collides into him.

“Our invitations were eggshell white,” Nara whimpers, gaining speed.

“Our cake was chamomile and cherry blossom,” Yoongi’s hands grip her waist and begin to take over her movements.

“I wore a custom pearl slip on our wedding night,” Nara garbles, finally closing her eyes.

“And I let you rip it off me,” Yoongi can’t take his eyes off her.

“My lingerie was specially made,” Nara’s eyes fly open once more, and she leans closer to Yoongi. One hand cups her breast and the other at the back of the chaise for balance. She brings her chest closer to Yoongi who obliges her, and licks feverishly at the stiff nipple shielded by fabric.

“I had diamonds sewed into it,” Nara pants, her rolling in bliss as Yoongi drills up into her.

“So that the light would catch as you fucked me,” her thighs are shaking and the back of her knees are slick with sweat.

“You made me wear that set for days on end,” she cries. It’s beginning to get difficult to finish a sentence.

Nara pulls her nipple from Yoongi’s teeth and scrabbles back down his chest.

His thrusting slows as he follows her lead. They’ve both never been so turned on.

She stares deeply into her husband’s eyes, riding him in her own time, so that he burns this image of her into his mind.

“We had -- sex,” she pants, “in the bed --, on the kitch--en,” her voice hitches when Yoongi punctuates her words with a particularly hard thrust.

“On the balcony, in -- the pool,” Nara remembers fondly, and slips her hand down to find her cit.

Yoongi senses her end, and resumes his brutal pace.

“In the garden,” Nara gasps, toying with herself as she revels in the sound of their clapping skin.

“I wore that -- set,” she glares into her husband’s eyes, and matches him thrust for thrust with her words, “even -- after -- you -- used it -- to -- wipe -- your -- cum -- from -- my -- pussy,”

Yoongi’s mouth drops open, and his neck vein bulges.

Nara’s so close. She has him right where she wants him, and she wants this so much.

She leans into his ear and chews on his earlobe lightly.

“You gonna fuck me till -- ah! -- till I cry baby? Huh?” Yoongi’s voice breaks on the next thrust.

She flicks at her clit harder, faster, until it’s almost painful. She’s so close.

“That set is the only -- bit of our honeym-moon I brought -- back,” Oh god she thinks, I’m so fucking close! But she needs to finish the performance.

Yoongi is unravelling underneath her, his thrusts quick yet heavy. “Oh baby!” he yells.

“Maybe I’ll put it back on -- an-and you can fuck me until -- hng -- you remember -- why you marr -- whyyoumarriedme!”

Nara’s back bows as her orgasm propels her into violent ecstasy, pulling Yoongi with her. He bucks and howls underneath her, their bodies stiff and twitching from the stimulation and eroticism of the event. White fluid gathers at the base of Yoongi’s cock and Nara tries with all her might to watch the aftershocks run through her husband’s body.

Yoongi’s eyelids flutter heavily, and when he returns to the room his eyes are filled with something suspiciously like awe.

In that moment, she knows she is unforgettable.

[secret-engima]

alyss-spazz-penedo

If. If she's Iggy's MOM, does that mean him and Prompto are raised as siblings/cousins? Megara brings Iggy along when she has to Braincell "Uncle Verstael" bc she's not leaving a baby alone at home and unfortunately Science(TM) waits for nothing, least of all common sense. On Prompto's side, Glaucus was NOT prepared when Besithia whipped up a baby for him and has only a passing idea how to parent, so those first few months especially were full of panicked back-and-forth

alyss-spazz-penedo

with the only baby-worthy member or his Retinue, and chibi!Ignis was a great help in babysitting lil Prompto. Later, when Prompto comes to visit Science Dad, he and Ignis also get to hang out and stuff.

alyss-spazz-penedo

....wait, if she's the mom, who's the DAD? Bc for Ignis to take his mother's name, presumably the father isn't in the picture or they never got married. Or is also... named... Scientia? (If the dad is LITERALLY ANY MEMBER OF GLAUCUS' RETINUE, I might die of laughter. Or secondhand embarrassment.)

Me: .... well considering I really like the idea of her being Iggy’s mom let’s roll with this hypothesis. XDD.

... Yes, yes they WOULD. Actually Megara does not have bby Iggy when she is unceremoniously recruited, since Iggy is only two years older than Noct and she’s recruited at some point before Regis’s canonical road trip. But she DOES have bby Iggy eventually and two year old Iggy is thrilled to watch over tiny bby Prompto with his Mama while Glaucus has a Crisis in the corner. Glaucus is so, SO grateful for Megara’s presence in his life after Prompto happens because on one hand YAY PROMPTO LIVES on the other I HAVE A BABY WHAT DO I DO WITH IT. Megara, who has lived with these clowns for years by this point, doesn’t even bat an eye at the fact that Besithia MADE A BABY and that Glaucus has insta adopted him and is just like “this is your feeding schedule this is your optimal sleep schedule this is how you change a diaper thi-” While Ardyn coos in the background because he adores kids with every fiber of his blackened soul.

Also this means Ignis is also a tiny Mad Science bby, because Obviously Ignis, as a little prodigy that he is, is going to take an interest in anything that interests his bby cousin Prompto and science is a challenge to him. He’s not as much of a science nerd as Prompto, especially not after he’s introduced to bby Noctis and his brain kicks fully over into Mom Mode but he definitely knows enough to get by and chime in when Prompto goes on a tangent.

I have yet to decide who the dad is. If the dad is not a one-night stand, then the dad either takes his wife’s name (because mafia boss wife trumps patriarchy) or-

And hear me out.

Besithia is the dad.

NOT IN THE WAY YOU THINK.

But like- think of the glorious chaos, of Glaucus’s MELTDOWN if, while he’s off somewhere doing his saving the world business and it’s just Megara and Besithia and suddenly Besithia’s lab time is interrupted with Scientia coming in and going, “I want a baby.”

And Besithia very, very slowly sets down his lab tools and ....

Stares at her.

In a quiet befuddled sort of way that indicates he thinks he misheard her but cannot for the life of him come up with an alternate version of what she might have really said.

And she crosses her arms and repeats, “I want. A baby. Of my own.”

Besithia squints, because they’ve known each other for years at this point and he KNOWS she knows Glaucus’s rules on the Cloning Of Human Beings and that she is also not interested in any of the group sexually because they’re basically all her pet idiots, “...I’m fairly certain there are websites for that,” Besithia says slowly.

And the queen of the underworld rolls her eyes, “I do not want to spend the next two or three years dating a male who may or may not work out as a husband, not with the complications of my ‘job’. Nor do I feel like risking a one-night stand or fling, especially not with the people who know of my work.”

Besithia continues to squint, but there is an idea sparking in his eyes, a glimmer of understanding for what she wants, “I can’t clone babies. It’s against the Rules.”

“No, but I am a perfectly functional woman and there are known, legal medical procedures for this. I’m just coming to you rather than a hospital because I don’t want news to get out to the underworld. I’d rather they run themselves in circles trying to figure out who the father is. It will keep them busy.”

Besithia fully turns around in his swivel chair and props his chin on his hands, “If Glaucus finds out about this, you’re taking the blame.”

“Agreed.”

“And I’m going to need time to get the equipment and an adequate male sample.”

“Understood.”

Besithia nods slowly, an manic look blooming that would have disturbed her years ago but now is just normal to her mind, “Any preferences on the donor’s appearance?”

“I like green eyes.”

“Noted.”

And so she wanders off and Besithia gets equipment and bribes someone at a proper hospital for the things he needs and by the time Glaucus checks in from wherever he’s been, Megara is in like- her second trimester and the underworld is losing its mind trying to figure out who the dad is (because if the dad is Glaucus then they are all screwed and they know it). And Glaucus stiffens, mentally checks his calendar, then slowly relaxes because ah yes, Ignis. Then a moment later he’s confused, because who’s the father?

And Megara looks perfectly calm and blasé as she answers, “I don’t know, ask Besithia, he’s the one who picked out the sample. Though it was my idea so don’t be too upset with him.”

And far away in another part of the city Besithia gets a chill up his spine and swears he can already hear Glaucus screeching his name.

That doesn’t stop him from accidentally creating bby Prompto 2 years later but hey.