#that all being rambled i would be keen to hear if you have something / someone specific in mind anon | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thragedys · 3 months ago

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Clear Mind

Ren x Fem Reader

REBOOTING...

Synopsis: With many dreadful thoughts lingering on your conscience, you have been experiencing trouble regarding trust in the people close to you. With the news rambling on about murders and the everlasting feeling of eyes glaring at you, you’re close to breaking. You can’t shake that forever-present paranoia alone.

Word count: 2.3k

Includes: Ren x Fem Reader, comfort, Ren being sweet, establishing a relationship, smut, oral, cunnilingus, kissing, clothed orgasm

A/N: Ren is too cute! I had to write something about him.

It was strange—his behaviour. You’ve never seen anything quite like it, the constant jitters in his facade. Your emotions are constantly changing. At this point, you are uncertain how you feel towards Ren. Part of you pities him and wants to remain his friend, but the other wants to get as far away as possible. Miles, perhaps a new city. However far your legs can take you.

He hasn’t done anything to harm you. He would never. His protectiveness, however, disturbs you deeply. How he told your friends he was your boyfriend without the slightest hint of hesitation, the way he’s so effortlessly affectionate and intimate. If you’re able to clear the air with him this evening, there will be no more worries remaining. Other than the uneasy sensation of a set of prying eyes burning through you every passing moment.

You blame your neighbour, Violet, for that unnerving sense of paranoia. She just had to mention she witnessed someone exiting your apartment. Someone you weren’t aware was in there in the first place.

Knock, knock, knock.

Three gentle taps against your door. It’s Ren. Your heart sinks to your stomach as you stand to your feet, legs wobbling as you make your way to answer. Pulling down the handle, you take a deep breath and gaze up at the lanky figure before you.

“Hi! Is everything okay? You look… Ill?” Ren pats his hand against the side of your face and you huff, feeling guilty for ever suspecting anything of him. Awkward people tend to shift their behaviour when around new individuals to avoid getting embarrassed, that’s likely his reasoning.

“I just need to talk to someone. I’ve been having trouble sleeping recently.”

“Told you that you could stay at my place whenever you wanted, didn’t I?” His smile was soft, raising the bag of goodies he brought with him. “Can I come in? It’s food and a few other things.”

…

“Wow, you don’t look well at all… Are you sure you’re okay?” His concern grows as you snap out of your trance, opening the door further for him to enter.

“I’m scared, Ren.”

“Of what? You can tell me anything— everything for that matter.”

“I swear I saw someone outside of my window a few days ago. I don’t know what they were doing, but I saw them. Hardly anyone is ever out there.”

“Hmm? Were they looking your way?”

“…I don’t think so. I can’t remember.”

“Okay, that’s fine! Don’t stress over it. We can talk about this after we eat. You need to get some food in you.”

Pulling out the boxed portions of food, he slides yours over and begins digging into his own, keeping a keen eye on you while you nibble at your meal. Even though you can’t shake the impending dread, you regain your appetite after seeing he purchased your favourite for you.

Now you feel a little bit better. You push any food waste aside and notice how he immediately goes to dispose of it, taking care of your duties inside of your own home without you having to ask. Ren was a sweetheart.

“How do you want to do this? Lying down, sitting, standing?” He taps his fingers against the tabletop, his eyes filled with worry as you space out yet again.

“Do what?”

“Talk. I wanna hear everything you have to say so you can get it off of your mind.”

“Oh, the sofa will do. Thank you for coming over.”

“No need to thank me! I’m happy to be here, so happy to be with you. I missed you so much.”

Not quite catching the last part of his sentence, you sink onto the sofa and rest your head against his arm. You pour your heart out to him, unsure if you’re overstepping by not holding back — but he did tell you he’s here to listen. And he did.

When you finished listing off your worries, he hummed and squeezed you tighter, now realising that during your full confession, you somehow ended up in his embrace. His nose is pressed into your hair, one hand stroking up and down your back, hushing you as a few tears slip from your eyes.

“Don’t cry, Angel… You’re safe, I promise.” Judging from the tone of his voice, you can tell he is hurt by how upset you’ve been. “I’m here for you. Do you want to stay at my place tonight? Clear your head, get away from all those thoughts.”

“I can’t hide from my fears forever, Ren.”

“Then you’ll have to let me fight them off. I’ll beat up the bad guys for you and the bad thoughts.” He raises his fists playfully, locking eyes with you as you lift your head.

“Are you sure you could handle them?”

“Easily! Oh, I forgot to ask…” Ren murmurs, twiddling with the fabric of your shirt. “I am allowed to stay over, aren’t I? I brought my essentials, so…”

“Of course. I’m going to use the bathroom; you can go get yourself comfy.”

“You’re the best! I’ll be waiting for you.” He springs to his feet and wanders off into your bedroom, leaving you to tend to your nighttime routine.

Applying the final step of your skincare, you pat your face and yawn. It has gotten quite late, you’re starting to wonder whether Ren fell asleep without you. Entering the bedroom, you spot him sitting on the edge of the bed, as though he was seriously waiting on your command so he could lie down. His eyes sparkle when they land on your figure, and his arms open.

“Snuggle?” He flutters his eyelashes, his blue eyes boring through yours as you sit on his lap.

“Sure.”

“I checked outside of your window. I looked everywhere I could and saw nothing suspicious. I might have scared them off.”

“Maybe you did.”

“Do I get a reward?”

“Do you deserve one?”

“But… I protected you! I made sure any scary people left you alone. They won’t dare try anything while I’m here.”

“I was teasing you, Ren.”

“Oh…”

“You’re such a good boy. You do everything you can to help me.”

“Don’t say things like that…!” His face lights up a bright shade of red, eyes snapping to the side to avoid your gaze.

“Why are you so cute?”

“Dunno… Why are you so beautiful? You are an angel. My angel.” Ren trails off, propping himself above you while your body is crushed to the mattress. “Mine.”

Your face is held in his palms, his eyes laced with nothing but adoration as they analyse you. He was tracing every detail of your face, trailing down your body, and stopping in their tracks when he felt a tug on the sleeve of his turtleneck. As he redirects his gaze back up to your face, he notices how your hand sneakily wrapped itself in his hair and edged him closer towards you.

He can never get used to this. The way you kiss him first destroys him. If he wasn’t desperate enough before, he is now. After recollecting his thoughts, he nips at your bottom lip and grants himself more access to your mouth, taking control from here. His pretty girl shouldn’t have to put all the work in.

“Can I…?” Ren mumbles into your mouth before pulling away, the string of saliva keeping you both connected. He twangs the waistband of your shorts, his index finger tracing swirls on your exposed stomach.

“Yeah…”

“I’ll be gentle. I know you haven’t been feeling your best, so let me do everything today. I just wanna take your mind off of things. I want you to be happy again.”

“I am happy when I’m with you. You make me feel safe.”

“…?” Ren halts, his hair brushing against your leg as he stares up at you from between your thighs.

“You mean a lot to me, Ren. More than you think. You drop everything for me when I need you most—no one has ever valued me that much before.”

“It will always be you above anything else. Nothing will ever be more important than you.” He slides down your panties, revealing the mess before him.

“I love you.” Ren uttered, planting kisses down your inner thigh.

It went unheard, exactly as he was hoping it would. His words were mumbled as he delved in between your folds, his tongue exploring you frantically as if it were his first time. Your cunt was familiar with him now. His tongue traced the shape of a heart on your clit, then repeated similar motions until he watched your eyes flicker shut.

“Keep them open, please…” Ren laces his hand with yours, giving it a firm squeeze.

He wants you to watch everything he does, wants you to remember who made you feel so good.

Your hips buck forward, accidentally pressing yourself even closer to him. His hands wrapped around your thighs, holding you firmly in place while he savored your taste. No other reward could compare to this. The thought that you were this wet because of him riles him up. He made you this way, no one else.

Slipping two fingers into your entrance, he remains gentle like he had promised. He was relishing in your reactions, slowly bringing you closer to an orgasm, then taking it away by altering his rhythm. It’s not that he doesn’t want you to cum for him—it’s that he doesn’t want this to end. For the past few days he hasn’t seen you face to face; he had craved this exact encounter.

Your walls tighten around him, an indicator that you won’t be able to hold on much longer, but he doesn’t slow down. He’s lost in your taste, entranced by the way you push yourself against him, allowing him to ravish you as if you were his last meal. The longer he goes, the sloppier he gets. Due to the grip you have on his hair, it became quite messy—the strays flying freely.

“I’m so close, Ren…” You whine, letting his name roll off of your tongue a few more times. Your eyes have grown hazy, unable to take them off him.

“Then cum for me. It’s my reward after all…”

Hearing his words pushed you, causing the cord building intricately inside of you to snap. You muffled your moan, forgetting the time and the likelihood of your neighbours attempting to get rest. The last thing you need is a visit from security due to a noise complaint. Ren pulls back, sliding his fingers from your cunt and wiping any fluid that smeared on his face away.

There was something odd about him. Whether it be the dark lighting or that look in his eyes—there was a different energy surrounding him. He likes the fingers that have been inside of you, sending a shudder down his spine.

“What…? Do you want a taste too? I don’t mind sharing if it’s with you.” Ren pouts, extending his fingers to brush across your lips, smearing your slick across them.

“You’re looking at me all funny. Is there something wrong?” Ren’s once smug demeanour disappears, his hand patting his face while you shake your head.

“You’re so handsome. I’m so lucky.”

“…!” Ren leans forward, his breath hitching as if he were in disbelief.

“I was jealous when that girl was all over you in that store. Really jealous. I don’t know what we are or if we even are an official thing, but I know I would love to be your real girlfriend.”

“Angel…” Ren murmurs, utter disbelief upon him as he tries to get his words out. “You’re going to make me cry— in a good way… A really good way! I never knew—”

“Can you stay over more often?” Your eyes water, locking with Ren’s teary pair.

“I’ll stay over whenever you want, all you have to do is ask. I can’t believe this is actually… Do you know— Ugh. I can’t get my words out, why now?” Ren mopes due to his poor communication, but your chuckle grants him enough reassurance to continue trying.

“I was hoping you felt the same way I did, but I didn’t want to force anything on you. I’m sorry things have been so confusing between us. If I would’ve known, I would’ve made it all so much clearer.”

“Does this mean we’re officially dating?”

“I suppose… but, if you want the truth, we already were a long time ago in my mind. My eyes have only been on you. They always will be. They always have been…”

“Hm?” You rub your thumb over his knuckles, curious to hear what he said.

“Nothing, I’m just rambling on, typical me…” Ren beams, nestling his head down onto your chest. “It feels nice to know you’re only mine now.”

“Did you think I wanted anyone else?”

“No… but! That doesn’t stop people from wanting you. They can’t have you, so I win.”

“You seem very proud of yourself.”

“I am. I’m an even prouder boyfriend knowing you’re the one I have.”

“I’ll pay you back tomorrow.”

“Huh?” Ren lifts his head, his brows furrowed.

“I didn’t have the chance to give you any pleasure.”

“I had lots, don’t worry. Seeing you like that was enough for me.”

“Did you…?” You raise an eyebrow, squinting your eyes as your inquisitive nature piques.

“…” Ren’s cheeks light up, already aware of what you are insinuating. “Well— Yes! How couldn’t I? You’re just soo pretty, and you were moaning my name in that whiny voice, and—”

“It’s okay; you don’t need to explain. Do you want to clean yourself up?”

“M’ too sleepy. I’ll take a shower in the morning and sort everything out then.”

“I’ll make sure to wake you up nice and early with me in that case.”

Accepting defeat at the early rise, Ren groans and nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. His body is sprawled out on top of yours, his limbs snuggling you tightly. There is no chance of you escaping him in the night with his sheer strength, you would need to be plied off of him to be free again. Before you know it, your eyes unwillingly close and your heart sinks with his, blissfully falling into a slumber together.

#14 days with you #14dwy #14 days with you ren #ren x reader #smut #fanfic #i want to take a bite of him #glitch divider: animatedglittergraphics-n-more

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screamforyani · 1 year ago

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in the end, you’ll never escape

warnings: noncon, implied stalking

wc. 1.7k

a/n’s: pls stop putting drew’s photos through remini hell i can’t live like this anymore guys. also hi ik i died over here 👀

miles upon miles away from kildare, you were contentedly far from home. months ago, the distance wouldn’t have been as tempting. the outer banks and the life you’d made there were the only things you’d ever known. but when your home began to feel less and less like a safe haven, you were more keen to be anywhere else.

it wasn’t easy leaving behind your friends, god knew you missed them every fucking minute of every day, but you knew it was a good call. no danger could reach you here. to you, and to everyone involved, it was for the better.

well, except to maybe one person.

you could hear a familiar jingle rupture the air even all the way upstairs. your brows furrowed. you weren’t expecting any guests, and you knew that your parents couldn’t have been either, because they wouldn’t be back for hours.

there was a knock. not at the door, but at your heart. after so many months outside of the outer banks, it might’ve been ridiculous to still feel uneasy about being home by yourself, but the fear never quite ceased; it quietened. but those whispers could be loud if they so pleased.

calm down, you thought to yourself. would rafe bother to knock at the door?

but you knew that he would. as belligerent as you knew him to be in nature, rafe would always play nice to begin with. if needed, he would escalate things, and he was not afraid of taking things up another degree to get what he wanted.

you knew it, because you had dealt with it firsthand. you had been underneath him while rafe stood atop, wielding his golden shovel as he tossed dirt upon your grave. metaphorically speaking, at least. rafe hadn’t literally tried to bury you alive, but you wouldn’t put it past him.

you couldn’t put anything past him.

your heart thudded as you took your sweet time to pass the stairs, but it felt like you could only breathe after you took another step. you peaked through the windows, and blew out a breath of relief when the guy standing out there wasn’t your worst nightmare.

you unlocked the front door, pulling it open.

“delivery for…” the man said your name.

that was odd, considering you weren’t expecting a delivery either, but you cloaked your shock and accepted the box he handed you graciously, shutting the door behind yourself and locking it.

the second you were alone again, you raced to the kitchen to grab a knife. you needed to know what was in the box or it’d kill you. curiosity getting the better of you, you cut it open, pulling the gift out of the cardboard it had come to you in.

it was a sweater you’d been eyeing, an expensive one. sure, you were a kook by kildare standards, though in spite of all that you’d been through, your parents still hadn’t forgiven your past pogue-esque shenanigans and wanted you to work to be let off.

plus it wasn’t like you had a job. you guessed all your rambling combined with your suffering made them slacken, and your heart filled with warmth, happy to clear the tension between you and your parents even if only a little.

to be fair, you’d clearly been through… something, but they couldn’t piece it together, other than the fact that someone had been intimidating you, though that was only because it was glaringly obvious.

you couldn’t tell them. you wouldn’t even know how to start. and they wouldn’t understand, so you’d rather them be upset with you. sometimes it was just easier.

the doorbell rang again maybe an hour later, the sound startling you out of your own head. you paced downstairs, less hesitant than before. it was ridiculous to think that rafe would find you or be desperate enough to go after you when it would be easier to pick another girl on the island to break.

imagine your shock when you opened the front door and there he was. the devil himself.

every inch of you was frozen over, stiff. every muscle, every bone. “rafe?”

rafe chuckled. if you hadn’t known any better, you’d say he looked happy to see you, but there was always something darker. in your shock, you spluttered, “what are you doing here?”

“i can’t come visit my favorite girl?” rafe asked, pretending to be saddened, and oblivious.

your eyes flickered and you felt moisture instinctively gather at your lashes, though at least for now, you held it back.

he looked a little different. his blue eyes still knew how to pierce the very heart of you, but his hair was significantly shorter. though in spite of your blurring vision (the side effect of tears or the lightheadedness, you couldn’t tell the difference), your whole body knew it was rafe and it paralyzed with total fear.

still, you tried to level your breathing. “you’re not supposed to be here.”

rafe didn’t seem to care, stepping closer and leaning into your ear to mutter, “we’ve done a lot of things we weren’t supposed to. haven’t we, baby?”

you recoiled, immediately drawing back. “if you don’t leave, i’ll tell my parents…”

“your parents?” rafe repeated, that familiar sly, shit-eating grin curled onto his lips. “your parents, they love me. what will they do? invite me over for dinner? fuck, baby, you really know how to strike fear into my heart.”

“i told them what you did!”

it was a lie, and you knew it. more importantly, rafe knew it. why would you bother? your parents failing to understand you aside, it would’ve only done more damage. your parents would forever loathe the camerons and you were perfectly content not being a blip on ward cameron’s radar.

his son was already a handful.

rafe shook his head, pressing his lips together. “nah, no you didn’t. you wanna know how i know?”

your pulse quickened when he stepped closer again, already a foot inside of your house. this time, his lips brushed your ear, heightening the uneasy sensation that got louder with every thud of your breath.

you were trapped in his arms, with nowhere to flee. something as simple as the slightest of touches between you and rafe sent a shiver down your spine. “because you’re too afraid. you’d rather keep the peace than let them in. now isn’t that right, babe?”

your eyes stung as you glanced up at him. you were always beneath him, never on top. “please, rafe. go home,” you begged.

rafe’s true anger finally started to peek through as he said none too kindly, “no. did you really think i was gonna just let you leave me? now we can really be together. no stupid pogues to get in our way.”

you cried out in shock when rafe got a hold of you, yanking you by the arm into your own house and shutting the door before dragging you upstairs. you had no idea how he knew where your bedroom was and you were too afraid to ask.

“rafe, stop,” you shouted. “rafe, you’re hurting me!”

rafe’s grip didn’t slacken until he pushed you into your room, and hissed, “you hurt me. you think i wanted to be on that island without you? you were the only thing that made shit feel worth it...”

you swallowed, lips trembling.

“and then you just left. vanished. no goodbye, no nothing. you wanna know how that made me feel? like shit! like killing somebody,” rafe said, approaching you.

rafe had that look in his eye, that familiar, unpredictable glint he always got when he was up to no good. you tried to get away from him, tried to do anything to keep him at arm’s length, but he was quicker and reached for you again.

at this point, your heart was thumping in your ears and the tears were pouring down your face so hard, you could barely see. all you could hear was thunder. “rafe, please. i’m begging you. don’t do this.”

“don’t do what? don’t make you pay for what you did to me?” rafe asked, shoving you onto your bed. “nah. i’m gonna hurt you just like you hurt me.”

your eyes winced close as rafe started to rip the clothes from your body, but you didn’t fight back. it would only make it worse.

it hurt to breathe, inhale after exhale. your chest was taut with pain and terror and perhaps still shock, in disbelief that your measures to protect yourself had failed. but it was rafe. and whatever rafe wanted, he got. every fucking time without fail.

the irony was killing you. right now, you would’ve been a thousand times safer on the island than you were right now in a foreign place where you knew nobody and nobody knew you. though you knew that as long as rafe was breathing, you were never truly safe.

“that’s right, baby. don’t fight it,” rafe whispered, teasing his cock between your folds. the discomfort on your face was conspicuous, but you did nothing to make it stop. “i love that about you, you know. you don’t put up a fight. to you… it’s not worth it.”

rafe’s cock slammed into you, pushing in and out. he groaned, remembering everything he loved about your pussy. you gripped him, tight and vice-like, and the sounds that came from the very back of his throat were low and deep.

“it’s always worth it to me, though. if you want something enough, you’ve gotta just take it. and all those people that don’t want you to have it? just watch them cry,” he added, not even looking at your face anymore.

his eyes were between your legs, mesmerized as he tirelessly watched himself disappear inside of you again and again, as if he was under some kind of trance.

“cry me a fucking river,” rafe said, his other hand groping every part of your body it could touch. “you’ll get over it.”

your eyes narrowed, and you were overcome with the urge to smack him across the face, but you resisted. the last time you’d done it, in a situation way too similar to this one, he hadn’t hesitated to slap you back even harder. he was right; you didn’t think it was worth it.

to delay the inevitable was to prolong your own suffering. and in the end, you’d never escape.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #obx smut #rafe cameron x reader #obx rafe cameron #outer banks smut #outer banks #rafe cameron x you #dark rafe cameron #dark obx

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wasawattpadkid · 2 years ago

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Housewife

Part - 10

Summery: Billy and Stu have been planning these murders for quite some time. Everything is going to plan until you show up. What happens when they meet someone who is just as mentally deluded as they are?

Pairing: poly!ghostface x fem!reader

Warnings for this series: murder, blood, smut (will be more in depth on smut chapters), power dynamics, a dash of sexism, knives, stalking, perverse behavior, cheating, mention of suicide,

Part 1

"Did Neil Prescott attack you with the ghostface costume on?"

"They've yet to close the case on the murders. Do you think Neil could've had a partner?"

"Was is hard watching your girlfriend die in front of you?"

The reporters spit inappropriate questions at Billy from the moment he stepped out of his car. He was more than happy that he got away with it but he found it a little annoying someone else was getting all the credit for his well executed plan. Billy threw his his backpack on barley missing the healing wound underneath his polo.

He passed by the reporters pushing some of them out of the way. Surprisingly no one bombarded him with questions when he entered first period. He heard whispers as he walked the halls. They didn't bother him at first. Billy lived through it, he got the front row seat most of them would kill to have. The boy kept his head down as he walked into his first period class. "It was Stu's house I know he had something to do with it." One of the boys said talking with his friends. Billy listened into the conversation. He was a nosey person by nature. "That doesn't mean he did it. I mean Sydney's dad was a wack job after his wife slept with half the town."

Billy nodded to himself. "I don't know something seems fishy with how close Stu and that new chick were." If you were close with anyone it was Billy. He was just careful about showing affection in public because shit like this happenes. People talk. "They were probably fucking and Tatum found out, everything went side ways." The group of three started laughing as the teacher shut the classroom door. Billy wasn't keen on hearing people talk about you or Stu but Stu had thick skin. Words never really bothered him much.

"You know we all would've died if Y/n didn't call the cops when she did." Billy snapped his tone a little too assertive. The class grew quiet everyone hearing what the boy had to say. Even the teacher was quiet not wanting to upset Billy more than he already was. "Class I know that these last few weeks have been traumatic for some more than others. However it would be beneficial to everyone if we continued on with our unit."

Billy went through the day with his keeping his eyes on the ground. He started to realize how hard it was to get through the day without Stu by his side going on and on about something he really didn't care about. The lunch bell rang and like clockwork all the kids flooded the hallway. For the most part Billy was completely ignored except for a few wide eyes stares in the hallway. For a second he forgot about what he had done. He saw the fountain being occupied by two girls. The freshman girls looked at Billy like he was a celebrity. "Oh my god Billy Loomis. I didn't think you'd come back so soon. Are you okay?" The blonde student rambled on stumbling over her words.

"Move." He was a man of few words. "I'm sorry about Syd- wait what?" She asked as her friend started picking her things up. "Are you deaf or something? Get out of my fucking spot." The girls hurried to grab their things. "This is where we sit everyday are you fucking blind?" He yelled causing people around to stare at the scene. "I-I'm s-sorry..." The kid stuttered scared of the boy in front of her. "Duh- duh- duh- get the fuck out of here." Billy spat nearly making the girl cry. Silently her friend grabbed her hand pulling her towards the building.

He could feel the eyes of those around him tearing into his slim frame. Billy sat on the concrete slab where he always did. No Sydney, no Tatum, no Randy, no Stu, and no you. His peers just watched the boy have a mental breakdown. It was lonely being alive. It wasn't the lack of people that was upsetting, it was the quiet. Running a hand through his messy hair he jumped up. "Fuck this."

You had never felt so good on a Monday. Your wound barley hurt with a little help from the pain killers. "Elvis really?" Stu questioned as you pulled the record out of it's sleeve. "You're not an American if you don't like Elvis." He pulled his lips into a straight line. "Consider me Canadian." Your rolled your eyes sitting the needle down. "Did you know he came in his pants during one performance?" Stu crinkled his nose at the unwante information. "That is fucking disgusting. Tell me more." You laughed laying on your bed next to him.

Billy blasted his radio choosing to listen to the burnt CD Stu made him a few weeks ago. Sad whiney alternative rock seeped through the speakers. It did nothing to help his mood but he wanted to sit and wallow in his self pity for just a little longer. It wasn't a very long drive to your house which saved him gas. If he had to guess you were probably laid up in pain waiting for someone to come and help you. And if you weren't going to answer his calls he'd do the chivalrous thing by showing up unannounced.

You held your sides as Stu danced around doing his best Elvis impression. "Stop it's so bad." You cried with laughter barley able to get the words out. You heard a faint noise downstairs grabbing your attention. "Wait, shh do you hear that?" Stu pipped down letting you concentrate. "Somebody's at the door." You rolled off the bed heading down the steps. "I'm going to pick the next record." Stu called from the bedroom. Making sure you looked presentable you opened the door. Billy looked up at you a smile playing at his lips for the first time in what felt like forever. "Hey." He said as you stared in shock. Your heart raced and you felt sick.

"Jeez don't get too excited." The visitor rubbed the back of his neck trying to ease his slowly building nerves. It was obvious to him you weren't as happy about seeing him as he was you. To him you were a breath of fresh air but that was because he was stealing yours. "Y/n please talk to me." He pleaded making you snap out of the trance you were in. "Go away." You thought it'd come out as a scream but it barley qualified as a whisper. Billy caught the door as it was closing. "You can't just tell me you're in love with me and then disappear." He walked into the house as if he owned it. You couldn't help but laugh dryly.

"That's what you got out of everything thing that happened Monday?" He raised an eyebrow unsure of what he was missing. "What else was I supposed to get? You literally pointed at gun at me saying you did all this for me because you loved me." You slammed your front door causing Stu to jump upstairs. "I was going to kill you." You said plainly done with the chit chat. "Excuse me?" You walked to the kitchen grabbing a drink from the fridge. "You heard me. When I saw that article and saw your smug face all I could see was red." Billy took a seat on your couch deciding to take his shoes off as if he was staying longer.

"I did love you, you're right but that was years ago. For a second there you had me fooled I'll give you that. My original plan was to get close to you and then kill you. Simple as that. Stu made that hard considering you were two attached at the hip." You refrained from making a joke you knew the boy upstairs would appreciate. "Why didn't you just kill him too?" With the look you gave him he knew that wasn't a good question. You took a swig of soda setting the glass bottle down on the counter. "It might be a shocker for a heartless bastard like you but I don't just run around killing people that inconvenience me."

Billy was actually kind of hurt by the comment. "I found out you two were planning to murder a group of kids so I sat and waited for you two to get yourselves put in prison or better yet you'd kill yourself." Billy swallowed what little spit he had left in his mouth. He was uncomfortable. "I'm not stupid, I knew you were going to kill him. He was simply collateral to you. That's what really pissed me off. You hadn't changed at all. I couldn't kill you now because he loved you and I couldn't bring myself to hurt him. Does he know?"

Stu sat upstairs knees to his chest as he tried not to cry. He was dumb he knew that but he was okay with it. He didn't think he was think oblivious though. All he was to Billy was a disposable accomplice. Something he could throw away once he was done using him.

"I wasn't going to kill him. We were going to run away together." You laughed shaking your head in disbelief. "Watch out Loomis, you're starting to sound as delusional as me." The whole scene really played out like two parents in the midst of a divorce. "Why'd you come here?" The defeated sound in your voice made Billy regret his decision in coming here. "I wanted to see you." He muttered. "Well you've seen me." You held out your hands making sure he could get a good luck before he left.

"I love you." Billy looked up at you making sure your eyes met when you heard the words. You hated the way he could easily manipulate you. Maybe it was because you wanted him to. You enjoyed how the lies made you feel so you chose to believe them. "If you think that's what I want to hear it's not. Love bombing is a big red flag you know?" Billy slammed his fist on the couch arm in frustration. "What the hell do you want to hear then?" You pinched the bridge of your nose. "I can't explain every little thing to you Billy. It's not my responsibility to teach you how to be a decent human being. I just need time. We both do. If you still feel the same way next week we can talk okay?"

Billy bit his lip till it started to bleed. "Okay." He was yet again defeated by you. You weren't keeping score but he certainly was. "If I call will you at least answer? Please." The idea wasn't bad but you knew it was only a matter of time till this sense of clarity wore off. You'd take him back in a heartbeat because you're the same easily impressed girl you've always been.

"I'll think about it." You'd kiss him right now if he as much implied the idea. One whimper from him and you've would've started making the bastard a sandwich. "Thank you." He said as he put he shoes back on. "How are you?" It was a question you thought he didn't care enough to ask. "I'm feeling better. Thank you for asking. How are you doing?" Billy's wound didn't even bother him at this point it was his mental state that was in decline. "I miss you and Stu." That wasn't an answer to your question but you proceeded with caution.

"I'll be back to school next week. Why don't you stay home this week too? School is not exactly the best idea for us right now." All things considered that is. You didn't understand how much Billy despised his "home." Since his mother left him his house became a prison. A padded cell would be cozier. "I would rather go to school all day than go home." You felt for him but that's as far as your sympathy went. Slowly he stood up waiting for anything to keep him here a bit longer.

"I'll see you Monday, Billy." You walked over to him ready to open up the front door. Swallowing his pride he wrapped his arms around you burying his face in your neck. The strangely intimate act was not in Billy's character. "I'm sorry." He whispered to himself more than you. You weren't even sure if he knew he said it. Your arms wrapped around his back and he let you just hold him for a second. If this was some sort of manipulation tactic he was better than you thought. Billy cleared his throat as he pulled away.

"I guess I'll see you Monday." You nodded not trusting your voice. "Call me if you need anything." Billy added as he walked outside heading towards his car. "Bye." Your voice cracked and you quickly shut the door locking it. Instead of sliding down the door like they do in the movies you laid face down on the couch. Screaming you lungs out into the throw pillow seemed to attract the attention of the boy upstairs. "You okay Betty Crocker?" Stu said almost jumping down the stairs. "You want to go cliff diving?" You asked as you carefully rolled off into the floor.

Stu joined you on the carpet. "Can we drive off the cliff Thelma and Louise style?" You smiled cuddling up into his side. "Absolutely." You wanted to ask if he heard your discussion but with how red his face was you assumed he already knew. "Is Y/n your real name?" There was a calming sincerity to his voice. "I wouldn't lie about that. Well actually that's a lie, yes I would." He laughed covering his eyes with his arm. "But no I'm not lying about that. I've got my birth certificate somewhere around here or I could just give you my social security number." You smiled up at him. "That works too."

Stu played records as you and him cleaned the kitchen. He felt betrayed by his best friend and he desperately needed the break. Stu would forgive Billy eventually, he always did. He knew you'd forgive him too if you hadn't already. That's just what Billy did. Ignorance is bliss, Stu learned that a long time ago. In the meantime, Stu was busy playing house with you.

(if your name has a line through it Tumblr wouldn't let me tag you)

Part 11

Taglist: @katie-tibo @agustdeeyaa @bowlofceral @gonnapermashift @tati-the-fangirl @kozumewhore @tatijoestar @illyanam1011 @c4rved-pumpk1n @msghostface @gojosbucket @sammanna @lokigirlszendaya @reneki @fetusharryluvr @kadu-5607 @pumpk1n-writes @lovekeeho @tojisblood @zeysartzone @bluedevilss @life-of-music3 @flyestvenustrap @littleblondesoprano @imobsessedreader @loomiscorpse @nicciekawegosblog @reneemunson @miss-puregotti @ksgsfsgaj @zoleea-exultant @briefwinnerpersonaturtle @mistydreamscape @l4venderia @nex-crowley @ashreblogsnow @brynaa223 @your-desire666 @billyloomiswhore4 @holyladyofsorrows @megluv1 @ellieswifeiya @yoluvrz @forallthstarsinthesky @madsothree @youcantbesirius @lubunnii @captainhowdysseptum

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rippersz · 1 year ago

Text

𝖰𝗎𝖾 𝖲𝖾𝗋𝖺, 𝖲𝖾𝗋𝖺

───※ ·❆· ※───

(An OC/Named Reader x Larissa Weems one-shot) (Bittersweet/angsty. Possible part 2 depending on feedback.)

Summary: Odette sends a letter and it ends up in the wrong hands.

───※ ·❆· ※───

‘January 11th, 2023

Odette,

I am terribly sorry to inform you that the letter you sent to a woman named Mirabelle did not end up in her hands. I believe the mail carriers fell short along the way and got it mixed up within my pile of documents; thus my wayward response to you. Considering the nature of your words (I must admit I read them - my actions were caused by split curiosity and confusion), I suggest you re-envelope and reseal your letter before sending it again. I have slipped it in with this one. And if you choose to listen to me, then we shall both hope your sentiments arrive to Mirabelle in a timely fashion with no surprise stops along the way. Until then, someone must tell her that she is a very lucky woman.

And that I am very sorry she broke your heart.

Happy New Year Odette. Be well, Larissa W.’

‘January 18th, 2023

Larissa,

Oh my goodness! Oh my goodness. I am far sorrier than you are. Obviously if I knew that was going to happen, I would not have let it. Okay that doesn’t make much sense, but I’m sure you know what I mean. I think. Hopefully? Anyway, thank you very much for sending the letter back. I gave myself some time to think it over and did as you suggested. New envelope, new seal, new everything. Except the perfume on the letter was different. Are you wearing Jean Paul Gaultier? It’s very nice. Mirabelle may appreciate the mix of scents (I’m wearing Marc Jacobs - Daisy), so at least she’ll get something out of it. The words, on the other hand, I’m not so sure. That ship sailed a long time ago - I’m just not the type to give up easily. That’s a big flaw, I think. Oh well. I guess rambling’s a flaw too. And here I am. Forgive me?

Thank you again. Happy New Year. Odette’

‘January 23rd, 2023

Dear Odette,

Please don’t apologize. It wasn’t your fault, as you know. And if I knew the letter did not concern me at all, I would not have read it. But, I’m sort of glad that I did. It was perhaps one of the best letters I’ve ever read in my entire life. Are you a writer, by any chance? If not, you should consider becoming one. The rambling could add a nice personal touch - it’s not as big a flaw as you think it is. It certainly introduced me to your keen sense of smell. Speaking of which, Daisy is wonderful. I may have a roll-on tube of that somewhere. Otherwise, you’re correct. La Belle was released in 2019, it has become my new personal favorite. Are you a perfume collector? Or perhaps a bloodhound? I jest, I jest. Though I do appreciate the follow-up. If Mirabelle doesn’t appreciate your love, I may have to send her a letter myself. That being said, please let me know what she says? If it isn’t too much of an inconvenience.

Be well, Larissa W.’

‘January 29th, 2023

To Larissa,

You are far too kind. I write in my free time, yes, but I’m not sure I’m good enough to become a writer. However, your support still means a lot - even from all the way in California. Quite a long way, right? Crazy how paths cross. Anyway, I’m not a perfume collector, no. But my friend, Cassie, wears the same kind. I know for certain that she’d say you have good taste. And I’d agree. That bloodhound comment was funny. I know you can’t hear my giggling, but trust me when I say I am. I wish I could be as witty, but I don’t know what to say. My humor is typically made up of making fun of people. Do you have a guilty pleasure I can harp on? An embarrassing secret? I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours. And as soon as I get something back, I’ll let you know. Don’t start writing just yet.

Best, Odette’

‘February 5th, 2023,

Odette,

Telling you my secrets already? My, I believe we’ve skipped a few steps. What happened to a favorite color? A favorite memory? An age or profession, perhaps? If you couldn’t tell by now, I am still jesting. One of my guiltiest pleasures, though you may find it juvenile and silly, is the fact that I am a huge chocolate fiend. Many of my coworkers are aware that the best drink to buy me is a hot chocolate - hold the whipped cream. I am watching my figure after all. And because I pity your lack of matched wit, I’ll tell you that my biggest secret is the fact that I quite enjoy Taylor Swift’s music. Don’t ask me about my favorite song, I don’t think I could choose just one. Oh is that- is that the sound of your giggling? Maybe I can hear it from here, Ms. California. Now it’s your turn to hear mine. In the meantime, enlighten me on what you write about. I’m thinking poetry and free-form, with a focus on romance. I do a bit of writing myself from time to time, but it’s always in a diary. Never further. Perhaps you can do both of us justice and contemplate publishing? I’ll be the first to run to the shelves.

I hope you are well, Larissa W.’

‘February 13th, 2023

Dear chocolate fiend,

White. My first trip to New York City after Mirabelle. I arrived in the afternoon, went to see a movie, grabbed dinner and headache pills on the way back to my hotel room, and couldn’t sleep for the entire night. So I went out at 3 AM to see Times Square. It was only a block away and let me tell you, Larissa, it was beautiful. It was unlike anything. I felt safe for the first time in a while - beneath all of those lights. I was invincible. Not even loneliness could touch me. 27 and counting. Secretary. And potential writer. Someone I met recently has been trying to push me further into my hobby- to really adopt the lifestyle. You wouldn’t know them, though. Them? They/them? Please correct me if I’m wrong, Larissa. These letters wouldn’t be nearly as enjoyable if I was calling you something you weren’t. As for me, I go by she/her. Mirabelle did as well. Does? Did? I’m not sure - I haven’t heard anything back yet. But that may be for the best. Horrid segue here (shame on little writer Odette), but Taylor Swift? Wow, I must be giggling quite loudly. HA HA HA HA HA!! HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE!! I swear that one day I’ll get a laugh out of you as well. In the meantime, as you say, I’ll happily inform you that you’re a psychic of some sort. Yes, I write poetry and free-form romance. Novels have never been my thing though. But if I did write any, I’d have to say psychological horror is a favorite. I may give it a crack if you’d edit for me? Unless you’re terribly busy, Ms. Vermont. Then please don’t worry your pretty little head.

I hope you’re ‘weller’ than I am, Odette

(P.S. Happy Valentines Day)’

‘February 19th, 2023

Dear sweet poet,

Do forgive the late response. Work has been keeping me busy; but if you’re serious about editing, I’m sure I can set some time apart for you. That memory of yours does sound quite glorious - nearly heavenly. Such freedom is a dream for many people, myself somewhat included, so I admit I’m the tiniest bit jealous. However, I could always visit the city in the summer. Times Square is already calling my name… maybe I’ll even see a certain 27 year old stranger there. Maybe we could even grab hot chocolate. But I suppose you’d rather enjoy your independence. That being said, you are quite correct - they/them is one of my preferred pronouns. Much like yourself and the mysterious Mirabelle, she/her is another. And I’m glad we both agree that these letters are quite a treat. I have not had a pen-pal in quite a long time. My old roommate and I used to talk after we graduated, but times change. Much like they did for you and Mirabelle. I believe I may have loved my roommate in that way, too… but it’s as I said. Then again, she was always more of a psychic than me. I just got lucky. As for the answers to my questions, I’m quite sure none of those were secrets. Unless, of course, your favorite color is known only by myself. In which case, I’d consider myself lucky again. But either way, come to the table please Odette. Tell me yours - but only if you wish to.

Weller is not a word, Best, Larissa W.’

‘February 23rd, 2023

Dear Larissa,

Weller is a word if I want it to be. That is my secret. No, but in all seriousness, you’re correct. Fair is fair. So I’ll grant you this: I’m a redhead. Ugh I know! I know! It’s terrible. Horrible. I’m sorry. If you find that you can’t stand me anymore, I understand. A writer, secretary, AND a redhead? What’s next? An FBI agent? I can’t disclose that information. Speaking of which, you have yet to answer your own questions. All is fair in love and pen-paling, am I right or am I right Larissa? It’s okay. You can admit it. I’m right. Just like I’m right in saying that your roommate made a big mistake if she’s not with you now. Speaking from experience, love like that is not something one finds often. I’d say I’m glad you experienced it, for it has its good moments, but I know that the ache can be bad. Quite bad. Not to worry, though! If you figure you want to send her a letter, you may get a pen-pal out of it. Kind of neat, huh?

I’m sorry she broke your heart, too. What a foolish woman. Tsk tsk.

Best, Odette’

‘February 28th, 2023

To the resident redhead,

How could you betray me like this? A redhead? On the other side of these pages? I feel scorned. Scorned and touched. Very much like a writer to offer comfort for an offhand comment. I appreciate the sentiment more than you know. And just for your information, Ms. I’m-Always-Right: Silver. Getting my teachers certification and celebrating with a few friends before life pulled us in different directions. It was a wonderful night. I haven’t laughed so much since - and that was quite a while ago. 32 next year. Principal. I do hope that was enough to sate your burning curiosity; I’m sure you can be at ease now. And since I do so enjoy meeting you halfway, I’ll tell you that I’m very fair-haired. Very. Perhaps one day you’ll see. Until then, don’t let the curiosity kill you little cat.

Best, Larissa W.’

‘March 5th, 2023’

‘March 12th, 2023’

‘March 16th, 2023’

‘April 14th, 2023’

‘May 21st, 2023’

‘June 9th, 2023’

...

And the months went on.

And on.

And every few days, another letter came. Another letter went. Another letter was written. Another letter was sealed. Another letter was received. Another letter was cherished. Kept. Forever a lovely memory. Larissa and Odette went and went and went- on and on and on- exchanging and smiling as each paragraph grew in length. From this to that and whatever else they could find to think about; they formed a banter and connection like no other. Poking fun, making jokes, referencing previous letters, gossiping until their hearts were content. Purring within their chests, eagerly awaiting another letter. It kept their days moving. It kept their souls dancing. From miles away, they cheered each time they saw the thin familiar scrawl of Larissa’s writing and the loopy tilted words of Odette’s penmanship. At one point, they even tried copying each other’s style. It was hilarious. It had both of them laughing at the same time - and later doing it purely to mock. Such things, little but large, were frequent and lovely. One time, Odette mailed a perfume scent strip of her new favorite; and Larissa, never one to be outdone, sent a roll-on tube of La Belle. Odette got so ticked off she made her promise that they stick to letters and paper only. Larissa, usually a stubborn soul, agreed. That was their dynamic. Their push and pull. Their agree to disagree. Never did they fight; rarely did they not see eye to eye; and constantly did they playfully argue. It was small things- small insignificant little things- but they moved the conversation along. And it made them smile. It made them laugh. And during the hardest parts, the parts in which life pinched at their skin and dragged at their souls, it made them cry. It made them weep. It made them open up. It led to Odette confessing that Mirabelle had left her and it led to Larissa confessing that Morticia had left her as well. Two women, two ships in the night, both of which got away. And not gently, not two slow drifts into the night, but a harsh yank. Morticia left school with a man on her arm and Mirabelle returned to California one day from a business trip in France with a ring on her finger. The two of them agreed that it was funny how life likes to slap lovers in the face. That it was funny how life likes to get in the way. And enjoys ending good things and ruining them. Taking them away too quickly. With no warning at all. Without a single goodbye.

The last letter Odette sent was on October 28th, 2024.

Larissa hadn’t responded to her previous one. Or the one before that. And eventually, after much contemplation, she gave up. It wasn’t healthy- worrying so much. Odette figured that perhaps, finally, her worst fear came true and that Larissa realized their little arrangement was more odd than she thought. That she knew virtually nothing about Odette, not even her last name. And that she didn’t find her amusing anymore and didn’t want to associate with her anymore and didn’t want to even say hello. Or goodbye. Or anything in between.

It broke her heart a little bit.

Okay it broke her heart a lot a bit.

The radio silence left Odette living on autopilot for weeks. Months. Nearly half a year. She’d get up, check her mailbox, and go to work - only to come home, check her mailbox, and go to bed - just to do the same thing over and over and over again. Day and night. Night and day. It was worse than Mirabelle. It was worse than anything. No amount of teenage angst or familial grief could get over the deep void left within her soul once those letters stopped coming. Once the friend she found by accident, the kindred spirit she stumbled upon, the woman she lov-…. well. Once that one person decided never to write again.

Though like most difficult things that left her raw, Odette’s heart began scabbing over. She cleared her desk, packed away the special pens she used, put the paper neatly into a box, and tucked the leftover Larissa letters away right along with those sweet memories. Then she put them into the back of a closet she rarely rifled through… and tried to forget it was all there. The La Belle, which she rarely touched, was hidden in her pajama drawer at the very back- wrapped up in old T-shirts she no longer wore. And every other thing that existed around her, that reminded her of Larissa, was pushed out of sight. Out of sight and out of mind. Out of sight, out of mind. Out of sight, out of mind. Out of sight… out of mind.

The company was celebrating her 5 year anniversary. They wanted to fly her out to Vermont. Jericho, Vermont. To have a little vacation there. To enjoy life. To fucking torture her.

She almost didn’t go. She almost canceled entirely. She almost quit her goddamn job because that was the same job she had when she first met Lar-…..

But she went anyway. Vermont was large enough. She’d be fine.

And she was, much to her surprise. She was entirely fine. It was a beautiful change of season; the air was crisp, the trees were changing color- morphing back into sunny greens. The world enjoyed its rain as April introduced May to Jericho and as the year of 2025 blossomed into being. Odette spent her days reading, taking walks, basking in the beauty of the log cabin the company rented for her. It was truly lovely. Truly a dream come true. And she didn’t even think- didn’t even wonder- about the other ship that got away from her. That barely even brushed past her, or lingered, before parting the water and skating away into the night all those months ago.

It was blissful. It reminded her of New York. Of that freedom- that independence- that song within her soul, dredged up from the depths.

But there was one thing.

One tiny little thing.

One little reminder that never left her. That she didn’t let go of.

“Hot chocolate, no whip, for Odette?”

A small smile grew on her lips as she slid out of the booth and made her way up to the counter. The young man met her eyes, returned the smile, and gestured to the warm cup on the counter with a nod of his head.

“Thank you lots.” And with that, she retreated to her booth.

Hot chocolate.

She wasn’t going to give up hot chocolate, let alone any chocolate at all, just because a distant soul enjoyed it. The whipped cream was something she wanted, but… old habits did always die hard, didn’t they? Oh most definitely. And as Odette reclined against the comfortable seat, eyes tracking the screen of her work laptop, hot chocolate firmly placed on the coaster to her right, she lived up to that sentiment with no room to spare. Leaving work at home was hard. She dove into it some time ago; dedicating more time, thinking, and hours into the well-oiled machine of her job just to distract her from everything outside of it. When she was there, responding, taking calls, managing dates and meetings and this, that, and the other, the world fell silent. Into a distant buzzy din. Into a land of muffled sounds and unimportant chatter - like her head was dunked under water as soon as she opened her emails. To a certain extent, it was calming. Repetitive and not at all that difficult after she figured out a proper routine; the worst part was dealing with those who couldn’t write properly. And in the professional world, that was rare. Well- if a person wanted to keep their job of course. And she definitely wanted to keep hers. It was fulfilling. Enriching. She made some friends, she shook some hands, she reassured her bosses. They knew she was reliable. Friendly. Odette never faltered. And they counted on that. Counted on her. Gave her the time of day. Responded when they could. Cherished her like a human. Like a friend. Unlike-

“Larissa? Hot chocolate, no whip?”

Odette blinked.

The muffled bubble popped. The world flooded back. She looked up from her screen.

Was she going mad? Crazy? Bonkers, finally? After all that time? Had she misheard? Maybe the young man said Patricia. Or Melissa. Or-

“Larissa! Hey, long time no see!”

Larissa.

Odette turned around in her seat so fast, she nearly broke her neck. She shuffled to the end of the booth, peered around the side, eyes wide and hands gripping the edge of the table… only to feel her excitement die as soon as it existed.

Of course. Foolish her. She didn’t know what Larissa looked like. She never got a proper description. Never got a photograph. Or a phone number. Or anything at all. Just a P.O. Box and a state. Just… nothing.

“Hello Jerry, it has been a while, hasn’t it? How are you?”

No, she- well she did get something. She got little things. Details. Odette’s brow furrowed as her eyes, hazel and starry and glazed over with apprehension and fear and admiration and horror, ran up and down the woman’s body. She was tall. Larissa never mentioned tall. She was curvy. Larissa never mentioned curvy.

‘I am watching my figure after all.’

…She was stylish. Larissa never mentioned style and fashion.

“Oh I’m good, I’m good. What about you? How’s the semester going?”

“I’m well, thank you. It’s… well it’s definitely going, Jerry.” They shared a laugh.

She was English. Larissa never mentioned being English. She wore gloves. Larissa never mentioned gloves. She-

Wait. Semester?

‘Getting my teachers certification…’ ‘Principal.’

Odette felt her heart drop.

But-

“I’m sure it is! I- oh shoot. More customers. Sorry, Larissa. Can we catch up later?”

“Of course Jerry. You know where to find me. Until next time.”

Hazel eyes watched the stranger wave. Then turn around.

Oh.

Dear lord…

She didn’t recognize her- not really- but the fair hair, which only registered then… and the silver jewelry. And the… the…

Odette watched as the woman walked past. She watched and she felt her heart in her ears- pounding, clawing, dancing- as she closed her eyes and breathed deeply. So deeply. So deeply it made her lungs ache. So deeply it made her soul tear in two.

La Belle.

Odette had never packed up her things so quickly. She never slammed her laptop closed so fast, never slid it into her bag so messily, never threw the bag over her shoulder or shoved her wallet into her pocket or grabbed the hot chocolate with such vigor ever before. Not once in her life. And rarely did she act so impulsively- not after Larissa. But seeing her then, somehow knowing deep within her soul that it was her… it broke- snapped- the thin resolve of Odette’s sanity and sent her flying out of the Weathervane like a bat out of Hell. She was burning up inside. Electric. Her eyes held fire and ice and so much warmth, so much desperation, that she nearly toppled over herself in her hurry.

The woman- Larissa- was a fast walker. Her long legs took her far as she distractedly typed on her phone with one hand and held the cup of hot chocolate in the other. Odette, being short and clumsy, was red and out of breath by the time she got close enough to call out her name. And call, she did. Call, cry, silently plead, she did.

“LARISSA!”

It was loud. Like a roar. Like a harrowing yell. Like something that held months and months and months of pain and sorrow and grief behind it. It instantly made her throat hurt, running it raw in only a second, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care at all. Not when her voice got Larissa to stop in her tracks and turn around, eyes searching and confused.

Of course, as to be expected, she had no clue who she was. Not even an inkling. Larissa got no description either - not even a photo. All she knew was that Odette had red hair. And that a woman with red hair was storming toward her, all fucks thrown to the wind, sneakers smacking the pavement hard as she stomped down the sidewalk. Larissa looked utterly puzzled, slightly mortified, entirely put off by the sight of such a determined stranger. Like she wasn’t sure if she had done something wrong and if she had, she wasn’t sure how to fix it. But Odette would tell her. Odette would make it known.

“What the fuck?” was the first thing out of her mouth.

A rather harsh introduction, but necessary nonetheless. She didn’t even really mean to say it, but the surprised widening of Larissa’s eyes had a twisted spark of satisfaction spiraling up within her soul.

And her outburst, naturally, meant many things. Not just ‘What the fuck?’ but ‘What the fuck? Why did you disappear? What did I do? Did I hurt you? Did I say something? Did something happen to you? Do you feel sorry? Do you miss me? Do you wish you responded? Do you hope to never hear from me again? Did you always know this would happen? Did you ever even bother to think that you should tell me you’re that beautiful? What the fuck, why are your eyes so blue? And why are they piercing? Staring at me? Heavenly and deep and never-ending? Like.. oceans… and why are your lips so soft looking and plump and red? Where did that scar come from? Do you hate it? Do you know that I like it even though I’m only seeing it now for the first time ever? Did you always wear your hair like that? How long does it take you to get it like that? How does it feel to take it out after a long day? Did you know your makeup is flawless? And that your jawline is magnificent? And that you’re so tall… and you look so strong… inside and out… and why the fuck did you not mention you were British? English? What does it matter? Just what the fuck? Why the fuck? How the fuck? What the fuckity fuck?!’

But overall, it only meant ‘What the fuck? Why didn’t you say goodbye?’

“I beg your pardon?”

Unfortunately, Larissa could never read minds. Or hearts. So the vague pangs of longing, like old rusted blood, only ached harder as the taller woman blinked and frowned.

A blush painted Odette’s cheeks. Right. Somehow, along the way of admiring, she’d forgotten. Larissa had no idea who she was.

“Um.” Clearing her throat, she adjusted the bag on her shoulder. Suddenly, things were very awkward. Terribly awkward. So horribly bloody awkward. It was a wonder if Larissa could feel the odd lull in conversation, the sudden dousing of Odette’s flames, but it didn’t really matter. If she wanted to, Odette was sure that if she chose to walk away, if she chose to take one last look before turning around and never coming back, then Larissa would never know. Then she’d just be another story. Another odd memory to tell her children one day, if she ever wished to have them. In her letters, the taller woman admitted that she didn’t think she ever would. But Odette always had a feeling that she’d be an amazing mother. Looking at her then, taking in the perfect posture and the crisp seams of her clothing, the feeling became fact. Larissa would be the best mom.

Funny that… there was a time, long ago, where Odette fantasized about making sandwiches for picnics and uprooting her entire life. Just to see the proud smile on her pen-pal’s face as her child grew and grew and grew and flourished. And maybe even ended up calling her ‘mom’ one day too.

But as Larissa wrote once upon a time, things changed. Time went on. And that was how it was.

So she could turn around. She could very well wrench herself from her spot and drag herself back the way she came. She could apologize, tell her she was mistaken, and that she was sorry - and then she could walk off into the sunset and pretend nothing ever happened. She could burn the letters. She could burn the very memory of her. She could forget the name ‘Larissa’ entirely and all would be left to rest. And that would be that. Que sera, sera.

But Odette was never the type to give up easily. Mirabelle, wherever she was, could attest.

So instead of abandoning ship, she powered through.

“It’s Odette,” came her firm tone. She straightened her back and tilted her head to look up properly, trying to stand tall in the face of heartache.

But heartache didn’t recognize her.

“Have we… met before?” Larissa blinked, turning to present her full attention.

Odette flushed red. Angry. Sad. Liberated.

“Have- have we met before?” She repeated, scoffed, outraged by her old friend’s obliviousness. “Just how many Odettes do you know?!” Her hands ran to her hips, firmly rooting themselves there as she began tapping her foot and glowering.

Such a display had Larissa scanning her from head to toe, desperately scrambling for understanding and recognition. The loose T-shirt, the black leggings, the sneakers, the hazel eyes, the pretty features, the freckles, the plump cheeks and curved body, the bag on her shoulder, the hair on her head. Red. Fiery. Standing out against the blue of the sky like a stain on white fabric. Messy curls and natural red red red.

Red… red…

Odette watched as Larissa froze. Her lips fell open, her eyes widened, she could practically see the way her heart stopped in her chest.

She remembered.

“…Odette?”

The shorter woman nodded, slowly feeling the anger and excitement drain from her body. It was fun being anonymous for just a moment. It was fun being the only one that remembered - having the chance to feel properly scorned and betrayed. But that didn’t last very long. The come down was harsh. Quick. A fall from immense grace. Especially when she saw the tears. They welled up in Larissa’s eyes, glossy and wet, making those sapphires shine. So swift they were. So rapid. As if sparked by Odette’s very existence.

Though maybe Larissa wasn’t the one that was tearing up. Maybe it was just her. Maybe the haze of the world, growing slightly blurry, was caused by the water that threatened to fall over her own lashes.

“Yeah.” It was all she could think to say.

For even with all of her passion, even with her love of words and her many discarded story drafts (all coincidentally started in the year 2023), even with whatever eloquence she was naturally born with, Odette couldn’t come up with a single meaningful thing to say. There was much, of course. But none of it fit. None of it made sense. Everything that lingered on her tongue, finally unlodging itself from the stickiness of her throat, was too heavy. Too heavy for the moment. Too heavy for the sidewalk. Too heavy for the side of the street. Too heavy for Jericho. Out in the open. Vermont. Miles away from home. Too close too close too close. Too much all at once. Maybe running after her was a bad idea. Maybe taking the vacation was even worse. Maybe sending that letter to Mirabelle in the first place was the poignant moment in which she should have changed her mind and threw it away when she considered it.

But she hadn’t.

And so there she was, staring up at Larissa, suddenly helpless. That ship that passed her in the night all those months ago had come back around; except that time she had stumbled upon it herself. And she wasn’t entirely sure if she was grateful- or terrified. Maybe the ship hated her. Maybe the ship would crash into her and ruin her and maybe the ship would begin shooting cannons. Maybe the ship would continue right past her. Maybe the ship would-

-hug her?

Odette blinked, very much unsure of what was happening as soon as she felt the comforting weight of long arms pushing themselves under her biceps and interlocking behind her back. La Belle and the soft clean smell of faded shampoo filled her senses. Her nose. Her lungs. Her eyes. Her heart. And soul. Part of her was so confused it wanted to grasp Larissa’s shoulders and shove her off. And the other part of her, the part of her that had dreams about receiving another letter from the one that broke her heart, wanted to give in.

‘That ship sailed a long time ago - I’m just not the type to give up easily.’

Odette’s arms pressed against Larissa’s waist. Their holds were odd, skewed by the cups of hot chocolate they held and the other items in their grasps. But nonetheless, it was… it was unlike anything. Each breath died on Odette’s tongue. She felt the atoms in her brain disappear. Like they never existed at all.

“I’m sorry.” It was said so softly, she was near certain it wasn’t uttered at all. But then Larissa was pulling back, hands shaking as she brought them to her lips. “I’m sorry.”

There was grief in her eyes. A sadness that not even the most haunted of poets could explore, nor understand, nor emulate. It gleamed. It cut Odette in half. It had her taking steps back, suddenly unsure. Suddenly disoriented.

“What-… what happened?” She was breathless, bewildered at the sight of regret swimming in Larissa’s eyes.

The taller woman opened her mouth… then hesitated. Her gaze burned through her old friend- then twitched away and ran over the world around them. The sidewalk, the street, the shops, the Weathervane, the town itself. They were out in the open. And their… reunion… was too good for that. Too painful for that. Odette watched as Larissa’s lower lip quivered; as the thoughts ran through her mind at the speed of light. And before she even spoke, she knew what she was going to say.

“Please, come with me,” her voice was soft. Silken. Heavy with guilt. Pouring with unspoken words.

It was Odette’s turn to hesitate. Years… nearly. However much time. She didn’t really know. She stopped keeping track once she realized she was losing sleep over it. Hours upon hours of sleep. It affected her work - it affected her body. It slit the throat of her life and dragged it through dirt. ‘It’ being the silence. ‘It’ being the goodbye that never came. ‘It’ being Larissa, Larissa, Larissa.

The same Larissa who held an apology wound up in her lungs. The same Larissa who looked down at her as if she couldn’t quite believe she was real, standing before her, breathing and living. The same Larissa whose shaking hands held a cellphone and a cup of hot chocolate that was swiftly running cold. The same Larissa with the same shining eyes that glistened with tears and crackling memories and affection, warmth, that seemed so out of place. Years without the comfort of that dove-like soul… years without the… the love? Love? Is that what they had? Perhaps it was too little too late to wonder. Perhaps Odette was just dipping into wishful thinking. Giving into the dreams she repeated over the years. With every word, every breath, every letter - she found herself begging. Pleading. ‘Please. Please please please invite me to Vermont. See me. Know me. These pages are killing me.’ All of it secretly scrawled between her slanting lines. Running in circles behind her hazel eyes. Displayed for Larissa, even though Larissa did not exist before her at the time.

Not like she did in that moment. In Jericho. In tears.

“Let me explain, Odette. I meant- I… just- give me a chance.” Larissa blinked her tears away and straightened her shoulders, tone growing desperate, body growing tense.

Never before did she sound like that in their letters. But never before did she leave Odette for so long. Interesting circumstances… Funny how life ended things so quickly. Funny how life brought out the truth in a person when they felt themselves tugged at a loss. Pushed to their knees. Though she said she had an explanation… and her old friend had never been a liar.

“Okay,” Odette breathed, clearing her throat. “Okay.”

“Really?”

‘Yes of course, really,’ Odette thought, looking at her with a mix of surprise and anger and devotion. ‘What are you, mad? I’d never just walk away. I’d never just give up. I can’t help myself. I never could. You know this. You know me.’

───※ ·❆· ※───

I quite enjoyed writing this. Might take a break from writing 'Heat' and 'To People Watch One Person' for a bit- same with requests. For the foreseeable future, whatever comes to mind will be written. I've started watching GOT again... and a certain Ser of Tarth has strummed the strings of my heart {as always} so maybe expect something with her? Dunno. Either way, thank you for staying with me. You mean the moon and stars, believe me. - Ripley x

───※ ·❆· ※───

#fanfiction #larissa weems #wlw fanfic #larissa weems x y/n #larissa weems x reader #larissa weems x you #fanfictionwriter #fanfic #rippersz #gwendoline christie #angsty fic #bittersweet fic

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moonspirit · 6 months ago

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I think the discussion on Armin’s relationship with his mother brings up an interesting idea, especially in relation to your fic. Specifically concerning his relationship with Hange, you have been identifying, and rightly so Levi as the “father” of the Scouts. So I am wondering at the other end do you identify Hange as the “mother”

I would love to hear your ideas on her/their relationship with Armin. Was it a mentor/protegee relationship given their similar passions for knowledge and exploration, or did it become sort of a “Son I never had” for Hange and “Mother whom I never really had” for Armin

As always I would love to hear your insight and thoughts on this.

Hello anon! This is long, sorry TT^TT I got carried away.

Tbh I haven't explored Armin's relationship with Hange all that much in VBEOW, but yes, as you say, the intention is clear that he looked up to her and they spent quite a lot of time together; that's what I'm getting at.

I think much of the fandom appreciates Levi and Hange being the parent figures to the 104th, in that the newest members of the SC are all mere children, and it's Levi and Hange who guide and lead them. Of course we have Erwin, we don't see there necessarily being a "huge distance" of rank between him and the 104th (he's around and about), but he's not the one scolding the kids, breaking up the fights, or teaching them titan science and new technology. Among the vets, Levi and Hange are closest to the 104th (going forth we mean EMA+JSC) and their bond only grows thicker as the years pass, numbers fall, and uncertainty grows.

This is why I love thinking about Levi's relationship to the Alliance post-rumbling, especially in relation to the Paradis boys (Armin, Jean and Connie) because after all that time spent together, they know him, and he knows them. He protected them, took care of them, (probably woke them up with a kick to the balls too), told them to buck up and focus in as little words as possible - a father, through and through.

All of the same goes for Hange, only, she doesn't make it to see them as Ambassadors.

Now coming to Armin specifically.

Among all the Ambassadors, he's the only one that's an orphan. Everyone else has parents, or at least someone looking forward to receiving them at home. Not counting Mikasa, (who is his family, yes, but she's not an adult figure), he has nobody that'll give him a hug and say he's made them a proud parent. There is a comfort in being held by someone older and feeling like you're still a child; that you'll always be their child.

But it's not just now, is it? He hasn't had it since he enlisted in the military.

At that young age when people have friends and parents, loneliness is crippling. Eren and Mikasa being inseparable I think there would've been times Armin wandered the buildings and scoured the libraries all alone. His curiosity to learn is something we don't see anyone sharing with him on quite the same level or depth - sure, he's telling people interesting things from what he's read most recently and they're listening, fascinated, but how many of them are picking his brain and quenching his thirst for a good, long conversation with questions, answers, hypothesis and conclusions?

One. Hange.

Or so I imagine. Their combined curiosity would've known no bounds. He's assessing her hypotheses, she/they're answering his questions. He helps her/them in the lab, she/they gives him new what-ifs to ponder about. She teaches him about the weather. He writes her expedition reports in meticulous detail. We see Hange rambling to anyone that'll spent 5 seconds listening, but it's a special satisfaction when someone listens with keen interest and a desire to contribute their thoughts by an equal measure. For Hange, Armin is a great scout in that he naturally possesses the understanding, empathy and curiosity needed of a scout in the first place. He's also sweet and polite - I see her/them developing a bit of a soft spot for him.

But then things go to shit right? Once the walls break (again) and along with it goes trust (RBA), nothing is a certainty anymore. From this point onwards, the SC begins to get pared down in both numbers and trustworthy members - by the end of S3, the SC we see are those few left alive and survived through all the betrayal. The only constants that remain for Armin then, are his immediate close friends (EM+JSC), Levi, and Hange.

And Hange is admittedly, more vocally softer in her approach to the kids than Levi is.

It only gets worse though, through the timeskip, which is the most grueling of times imo, in the whole story. Hange as a commander is different - no longer does she/they have the time or peace of mind to be the careless mad scientist because the pressure on her to perform, lead, and find a near impossible solution is insane. I imagine Armin and Hange spend many an evening thinking about what to do about the impending annihilation. Some of those evenings, she/they would break down, head in her/their hands, and admit only to him, that the burden of living up to Erwin's legacy's crushing her back.

To everyone else, Hange must be brave. The world's falling apart, she can't look weak. In front of Armin though, she can afford to look scared. Just a bit. Because he'll understand.

And Armin would understand all too well, wouldn't he? They share the burden, after all. One has been appointed the Commander, and the other has replaced a Commander.

Above anyone else too, Hange would understand Armin's guilt. He's just a boy of nineteen, receiving hostile stares and accusations simply for living and breathing, and she/they feel sorry. It wasn't her/their decision, it was Levi's, but Hange's been watching this boy grow up from a scrawny thirteen year old to a young adult who should be feeling more confident in himself (with a shifter's power too!), but he doesn't. He cries, he hates, he wishes he wasn't alive.

What kind of parent wouldn't hurt from that?

To sum up, from the beginning to the moment Hange died burning in the sky, I believe Armin and she/they shared a very special relationship. It might have started out as a Superior/Junior thing, but over time it progressed into something more, something deeper, something closer to the heart.

A soft spot for one another like nobody else had.

#askies #WELP THAT WAS LONG #I'm sorry if the wall of text has scared you (or anyone else) off T^T #armin arlert #hange zoe #hanji zoe #snk #aot #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #character analysis #meta #arminarlert #hange #levi ackerman #VBEOW

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forestfullofberries · 4 months ago

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please do tell me your thoughts on the EPIC trio (Eury, Ody, and Polites) ramble all about them i love hearing others thoughts on them (and i might snatch a few HC for myself in the process lol) i could talk about them forever honestly

bestie (no idea who you are) what do you think i've been doing on this blog for the past tree weeks

anyway. odysseus used to be my favorite character (now the spot is taken by eurylochus (i don't love ody any less now, i just love eurylochus more)), i am always drawn to characters who go through absolute hell while having enough drive to persevere, because they have something worth surviving for.

polites... i feel like i don't know enough about him. how did he manage to bring all of that optimism through 10 years of war? or did he develop it during/after the war as a way to cope? how much of it is a front he puts up for the sake of others? does he have anybody waiting for him at home? what flaws, shortcomings does he have? is he naive or is he wise? is he both? i just don't know, there was so little time to get to know him.

now, eurylochus. i didn't think much of him at the start, just like probably a lot of us, but then i started warming up to him, even before thunder saga put him in such a spotlight. there's just something about him being the one who cares for the crew. the voice of the crew. i like the sound of it.

before thunder saga came out i had this vision for the underworld animatic, i wanted to use chorus time to show eurylochus going around the ship trying to keep the crew from total despair, comforting those who are crying, trying to ground those who are having the worst visions. but now i don't think he'd be in the condition to do that, with his own baggage of opening the bag and seeing everyone who died because of it? yeeeaah, he's the one who needed comfort during that underworld trip.

also, i was adamant that he didn't open the bag. i was just so sure it would be out of character for him! cautious pessimistic eurylochus? messing with a dangerous magic object? why on earth would he do that!! (i still don't completely understand why he did that tbh, but i guess the growing mistrust from luck runs out played a role there)

and of course, thunder saga has me obsessed with the guy. it's the tragedy of it all. the one thing he found purpose in - protecting the crew - and they're all dead now. don't even get me started on him having his own Just a Man moment. devastating. so of course i play mutiny on repeat.

headcanons? eury aro. (disclaimer, i know very little of his mythological background outside of the odyssey, and frankly do not care) i think he and ctimene are in an aromantic version of lavender marriage. they're good friends, and they make the home life work, and they care for each other a whole lot, but also they both know they'd be fine on their own. ctimene has a good relationship with eurylochus' side of the family, and he knows they will take care of her in times of need.

that's why returning home as soon as possible is not that high on his priority list, especially when it comes to preserving lives. he knows that every single man in their army has someone waiting for them at home, and each life lost means many broken hearts. so yeah, he's not very keen on taking risks.

as opposed to odysseus, who knows he's on a ticking clock. the prophecy was vague, but it's enough to put together the situation: empty throne, widowed queen, only heir too young to do anything. of course he's in a rush.

my other headcanon is that as a kid, eurylochus had his growth spurt relatively late, and for most of their childhood he was shorter and scrawnier than both odysseus and polites :D

#fia.post #perhaps i need a tag for asks?#epic the musical

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paperstarwriters · 1 year ago

Text

Thinking about Aspec Muriel & reader.

Personally I am a demisexual & demiromantic but I feel like I fluctuate sometimes, and I've kinda been thinking about Muriel and his place anywhere under Aspec umbrella (including both the asexual spectrum and aromantic spectrum)

Note: This is largely based on me projecting from my own experiences lol. I know For Certain that this won't apply to all aspec people, so if you are of a differing position on the spectrum feel free to discuss about this with me!! I'd love to hear your perspective— also, the links provided are to the LGBTQIA wiki, so if they're inaccurate, feel free to correct me!

also this is largely me just throwing hypotheticals at the wall and rambling so warning for late-night nonsense

anyways it's just —

Because I don't really see Murel as being Fraysexual or Frayromantic (although don't get me wrong, that is a possibility) I can't help but worry at how he felt being desired and admired while in the Colloseum, as let's be honest, there are bound to be a handful of horny people who absolutely loved his show of strength and power right? But practically being at the beck and call of Lucio, I can't help but wonder at how or if Muriel might've felt if he was ever confronted by some of those fans who just... did not know him.

Or I imagine some people trying to egg him on and see how many people "the beast" has slept with and he just feels revolted at the thought—not necessarily because he sees sex as something inherently disgusting, but simply because he can't see himself wanting or doing that, or he hates imagining his own body in that vulnerable position.

And it just places him in a position where people are so confused and dejected at his disinterest romantically or sexually, because "oooh here's this absolute hunk of a man why won't he fall in love/have sex ever? Isn't he human? isn't it ''natural'' to want a sexual/romantic relationship??"

and it all just ends up further othering him. as if he were some sort of Golem driven by blood and hatred, incapable of feeling love or emotion, as if he did not love and care for what few friends he had left, as if he did not love and care for Asra.

And then eventually MC comes around, and whether or not you're Aspec, you at the very least respect his boundaries, and it's a sad and sorry thing, but as a character of entertainment for Vesuvia, I can't help but expect that many rich influential nobles that could bribe their way through the guards around him did not respect that, and maybe they couldn't actually reach him, but they tried, and that's scary enough. Or maybe some rabid fan, oblivious to social expectations, or just incapable of seeing him as anything other than an animal, trying to get to him as well.

Or maybe not even any of that, maybe just the threat of it, ever hanging on his shoulders when people loudly discuss him as if he did not have keen ears, or as if the hallways did not echo, or as if he were not just a few feet away from them.

don't get me wrong, being sexualized when you don't wanna be sexualized is horrible, but the lack of being able to reciprocate or even understand any of it—how people can so easily desire someone else sexually or romantically just by looking at them—and hearing how people regard it as a "natural human experience" that feels awful.

I doubt many people would be talking about the possibility of people just not having those feelings, and it being a normal experience around Muriel and he just ends up left there, feeling so much like some sort of attraction in a cage, inhuman, abnormal and so, so wretched.

And when his only close friend, his only remaining reassurance that he was some part human, leaves for a romantic relationship, Muriel feels more disjointed and broken apart than ever.

And then eventually MC comes around, and whether or not MC is aspec, they respect Muriel's boundaries, and are willing and happy to keep the relationship platonic, or just not have sex if that's what Muriel wants.

and if MC is aspec, the both of you end up diving down into that wormhole of everyone else expressing that automatic or lasting feeling of sexual or romantic attraction to others, and how you both lack that, and most importantly, how you both continue to see each other as normal and human despite that. Regardless of what others say, and regardless what you each think of yourself, you can't bear to call each other inhuman, so you don't. You insist upon each other's humanity and you support each other like that.

Just, regardless of however your sexual or romantic orientation shifts and changes, you both find solace and trust in each other, because you both understand and you both know. And of course, most important overall, you both respect each other's boundaries, and you trust each other enough that, even if one of you realize that maybe sometimes you crave that romantic relationship, or maybe sometimes you crave that sexual relationship, you both trust each other to discuss it beforehand, rather than demand it, and you both trust that, whatever happens after, whether you accept or reject that offer or that possibility, you're still going to be friends.

and ugh the queerplatonic relationship of living together with Muriel in the forest, Sleeping over, and giving each other breakfast in bed as you both work through your chores, as you both make sure you're taking care of each other. Loving each other in that quiet, silly, tender, gentle, human way that friends love each other, that way that friends have always loved each other.

#it's late right now I'll ramble on about this more tomorrow lol #Asexuality #aspec #aromanticism #the arcana #x reader #muriel #muriel the hermit #muriel of the kokhuri #the arcana muriel #muriel the arcana #just thinking

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thearchmanofgreenfield · 8 months ago

Text

As the sun slowly crawled up the sky from the horizon, the great clock tower of Bellmont read six hours after midnight. The early morning light fell upon the city. With the light came a sense of serenity and joy before the streets would erupt into chaos.

Lucian, however, did not feel very at peace.

He couldn’t remember when he woke up, only that it had been hours before sunrise. His mind was full of dread and nervousness. He had gotten used to thinking of his initiation as a distant hurdle he would never arrive at. Now it was mere hours away and the mere thought of it weighed as much as the ocean itself. He sat in the living room quietly pondering, too nervous to look down the hallway. The silence was calming but it wasn’t enough. So he sat still even as the morning light flowed in through the windows. He stared at the floor, too drowned in his thoughts to notice the things happening around him. All he could hear were the whispers and static as millions of thoughts raced through his head. He imagined what the ceremony would look like, ever since childhood he had been told that it was an event of utmost importance, a rite of sacred passage passed down from their ancestors from the ancient moor. He imagined walking down the hall with so many eyes fixated on him, judging him with glares and whispers behind their masks. He imagined the knife, the blood, the pain and the audience staring at him with disappointment. It was almost too much to bear.

“It’s not that bad.” The sudden voice had him jump in his seat. He looked up to find Willow sitting a few feet away from him in a red velvet chair, wearing her blue shirt over a whitish blue nightgown. She had a cup of tea in her hands, and a tray full of several more cups floated next to her head. “I think you’re too frightened of something so trivial.”

“How long have you been here?” asked Lucian, feeling quite awkward and embarrassed that he did not notice her sitting there.

“Give or take ten minutes. I thought you’d come around eventually but you were too busy wallowing in your own misery to notice me” She then made one of the cups in the tray float into Lucian’s lap. Lucian grabbed the cup and laid it on his knee. “For you. I made more for the Hatlys. They will be coming along any minute now. You better want to apologize once they show up.”

“Why is that?” asked Lucian as he blew on his tea. Willow smirked. “Because your thoughts were so loud that they’ve kept them up for the past few hours, especially little Elliott.”

Lucian’s face turned a mild shade of red. He nervously glanced toward the living room entrance. Willow just kept talking. “I suppose you’d want to talk about your deadly fear of ceremonies, it won’t do you any harm.”

Lucian stared at Willow. “Is that why you came here? Does talking to me alter the future somehow?”

Willow giggled as though Lucian had said something funny. “Of course not, silly! Is that how you think the future functions? You and I talking has no implications on any of what is to come.”

“Then why are you so keen to talk? Seems unnecessary in that regard, don’t you think?” asked Lucian, who appreciated it but also felt odd about it due to being used to Lily’s often not-so-sincere attitude.

“I’m bored,” Willow said simply, rolling her eyes. “What I’m here for won’t happen for some time so might as well observe your depressing state to pass the time”. Lucian felt a sudden sense of familiarity. Willow almost sounded exactly like Lily.

“Has my sister been telling you things about me?”

“She doesn’t need to. But I have seen her complaining to Charles about how difficult it is to live with someone who sobs and moans about something so small. I wouldn’t usually believe the ramblings of a younger sibling, but you’re not making yourself look better.”

She then leaned closer to Lucian, perhaps noticing his look of betrayal once he heard about Lily. “I hope you do not seek petty retribution against your sister. And if you do, keep my name out of it.”

Lucian sighed. He then raised his cup of tea and drank it all with one sip. It hurt his throat a bit but he didn’t mind. Even Willow seemed to change her demeanor to a more sympathetic state. However, Lucian wasn’t sure whether it was sympathy or pity.

“I suppose it is fair to fear the dagger, but It is not something to dread as though it were the end of your existence.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Lucian grimly, “There is no avoiding it now.”

Willow sighed. It was clear Lucian’s state was sadder than she expected, despite being able to see the future. “At least you’re not alone. That counts for something, does it not?”

“I don’t do well with crowds,” Lucian replied plainly.

Willow tilted her head. “Even if those crowds are composed of your friends and relatives?”

Lucian scoffed. “Especially if they’re friends and family. At least with strangers you only meet them once.”

Willow smiled sympathetically before leaning into her chair and drinking her tea. “Well, at least-” she began but she was interrupted by the sound of footsteps coming from outside the living room. Two people in white nightgowns then entered in a dizzy haze. They were Laura and Charlotte Hatly. Willow stopped talking when she noticed them and so she didn’t finish her sentence, she just continued to drink her tea. Meanwhile, Laura and Charlotte appeared as though they hadn’t slept in weeks.

“Why good morning!” said Willow with a smile.

“Why are you both awake at this hour?” asked Laura, blinking several times in quick succession from sheer exhaustion. Meanwhile, Charlotte helped herself to a chair in the corner of the room.

“Why are you?” Willow simply asked back. Lucian said nothing; he simply sat in his chair and tried to look normal.

“Charlie and I couldn’t sleep; someone here was having the loudest nightmares I have heard in years! Hours of muffled incomprehensible rambling! Whoever it was kept waking up Elliott, and unfortunately his fits are more difficult to avoid than their thoughts,” said Laura in an exhausted and frustrated voice as she sat on a small sofa. Lucian saw Willow smile and chuckle behind her tea cup.

“Well I wouldn’t call what you heard nightmares,” she said. She then took two cups of tea from the tray and floated them into Laura and Charlotte’s hands. Charlotte seemed too tired to drink while Laura reclined on her chair and slowly took several sips.

“Why is that?” asked Laura. Lucian saw Willow shoot him a glance. Both Laura and Charlotte gave him a look of surprise and annoyance.

“All that ‘muffled rambling’ was him contemplating his initiation as though it was the end of the world. I’ve been trying to console him for the past few minutes,” Willow said, and then placed her hand vertically on her mouth to cover it from Lucian’s view. “And it’s not working” she whispered as though she thought Lucian couldn’t hear her.

It was at that moment that Lucian’s patience was overtaken by the desire for petty vengeance. He flicked his finger just as Willow was about to take a sip of her tea. Within moments, the cup from which she drank changed as the top shifted, stretched inward and covered the mouth making the cup more like a ball than a cup. Willow did not see this immediately and as her lip touched the edge of the cup; instead of her tea she was met with the feel of warm, partially heated ceramic.

She gasped and jerked backwards towards her chair in surprise for a moment before actually looking down at the cup and realizing what had happened. She gave Lucian a stern glare. Lucian simply smiled smugly. He also saw both Hatlys giggle in amusement as Willow’s annoyance.

“Why are you here, Willow? I doubt Morrows are ever anywhere they don’t need to be,” said Laura.

“Oh don’t worry,” said Willow while casually placing her now unusable cup on the floating tray. “I’m not here just so I can observe him,” she said with a smile gesturing heavily towards Lucian. “He’s merely entertainment. What I’m actually here for hasn’t arrived yet.”

Lucian didn’t know how to feel about being called ‘entertainment’ in his current state. He knew Willow had not meant it harshly, yet it made him feel awkward. He did not speak up about it, instead he watched as Laura continued her questioning.

“Care to elaborate?” asked Laura curiously.

But Willow simply nodded her head. “If I did, it may change the outcome.” Her comment made Lucian raise his eyebrow since she had said the exact opposite to him earlier. Had she been lying? Before he could complete those thoughts, Charlotte chimed in.

“This isn’t about Joe’s little scheme, is it?”

Laura glanced at Charlotte, as though wondering why she hadn’t thought that herself. But nonetheless, she seemed to agree with her sister. “Are you waiting for one of the adults?” she asked with more suspicion.

“I do not endorse Joe's plans,” assured Willow, clearly realizing that refusing the Hatlys was fruitless. “I was just curious. Perhaps he has a point.”

“Curious? Aren’t you the one who can see the future?” asked Laura.

“I cannot clearly fathom futures involving my own family, hence I am blind,” said Willow swiftly, as though she took insult in the Hatlys doubting her ability. “Besides, if Joe is indeed correct, we might as well know more about what our parents are planning.”

Lucian suddenly remembered the conversation he had yesterday with Lira. She had said something about the ‘worst outcome’. As he was thinking, Laura gave him a glaring look, clearly having sensed something. Lucian panicked, recalling his vow of secrecy. He tried to get those thoughts out of his mind. Their eyes met. Lucian noticed that Charlotte had not reacted the same way Laura had, he assumed she had not sensed Lucian’s thoughts. He shook his head slowly at Laura. She saw this, but simply turned her gaze and opened her mouth to say something to Willow. Lucian panicked.

“Our parents have many secrets, and they all seem intent on hiding them. Even I cannot look into their minds. They’re all so…fortified”

“In any case,” Charlotte chimed in. “Who among us here actually wants to associate with Angelmore?” He is conniving and distrustful. Always has been.”

“I wouldn’t blame Joe too much,” said Laura. “Hearing voices behind closed doors can be a curse. And even if it wasn’t, I feel like being the only child of a Great House would make anyone distrustful. The Circle has a history of traitors.”

“No member of a Great House has been killed in fifty years,” argued Charlotte.

“But it is still not wrong to fear the worst,” said Laura in return.

Lucian once again remembered Lira’s statement from the day before, “The lives of your peers…” the words rang in his head. But this time he blocked those thoughts before Laura or Charlotte would notice.

“I think it is best we find out what we can,” he said. “You all read the paper. The Circle is involved in some conflict with the Order. And that means danger is in the air.”

The room went silent. Willow nodded, while Laura and Charlotte exchanged glances. “Well, I’d never thought I’d see you agree with Joe of all people. I thought you detested each other!”

“We don’t detest each other,” Lucian snapped back, “He just detests me” he thought to himself in his head. Charlotte raised his eyebrow at Lucian. He simply ignored her “We just have never been… close. I do not agree with him on everything. But, he was right. It is suspicious that all the children of the Great Houses were brought to the same place on the same day.”

Lucian then heard something coming from outside the house. It was the sound of clanking metal and sliding rubber. The sound of a car. Lucian swiftly made his way over to the window with the Hatlys close behind him. He pulled back the curtains and peered outside. Outside the house, he saw what appeared to be a retinue of cars, five or six in all. They were all black and they circled the street before parking in an organized line outside the front door of the house.

“What’s going on?” he asked himself. The Hatly sisters were standing on either side of him and seemed to be wondering the same.

“Now I would appreciate it if you would all remain quiet,” said Willow as she sat sternly on her chair. Lucian and the Hatlys watched as a crowd of people came pouring out of the cars. Lucian noticed that most of them were wearing navy blue cloaks over white uniforms. Some had golden star-shaped badges and small golden chains holding their cloaks to their shoulders. Among them was also a small group of men who wore brown cloaks with no ornaments. Lucian didn’t know what he had expected, but this was definitely not it. They looked more like soldiers, not drivers.

“What are they?” asked Charlotte, perplexed.

“The blue ones must be the Gratousy,” deduced Laura, “Regular soldiers wear brown and silver. And I’ve never seen any except Boroughman who wear gold”

Lucian wondered. He knew what the Gratousy were. The most elusive branch of the Circulion army, made entirely of the most powerful and most loyal soldiers in the Circle. They answered to no one other than the Great Houses, their only objective, to serve and protect their lieges. Lucian had been around these elite men and women his whole life, he knew that all their drivers were Gratousy, as well as that at least a few of them patrolled Allison Street. They only allowed a select few people to enter the road, including the boy who delivered their newspapers.

“What are they doing here?” asked Charlotte, “And why are they all dressed in uniform?”

“That I don’t know,” replied Laura. Lucian and the Hatlys then continued to watch as the men dressed in blue and brown gathered around outside the house. Willow still sat on her chair ignoring them. Lucian watched as some of the men opened the rear doors of some of the cars. Some people in suits appeared from the back. He recognized all of them. From one car came out his father, Henry and his uncle, David. He also saw Willow’s father, Mr. Eustice Morrow and another he knew to be Laura and Charlotte’s father, Mr. Carlyle Hatly. He even saw a woman appear among them, he knew her to be Mrs. Morning, Arthur and Evelyn’s mother.

Lucian saw them all approach the front door; they seemed to be talking to each other. Lucian then turned to Willow. “Is this what you’ve been waiting for?”

“Yes,” said Willow, who was staring at the front door. “And I would very much appreciate it if you sat down and pretended to be somewhat oblivious! Can’t have the adults being suspicious.”

Lucian and the Hatlys obliged. They all rushed to their seats as the crowd of adults made it to the front door. Lucian returned to his lonely position on the sofa just as he heard the doorknob turn. He watched as the door opened and the first person to come inside was his own father, Henry. At first, he did not notice them. He was busy saying something to one of the Gratousy. It took him a few moments to turn towards the living room. Lucian saw him pause mid-sentence as he saw the four children staring directly at him.

“Oh…” he said, looking directly at Lucian and the others. “What are you all doing here?”

Lucian froze. He had not thought of an excuse for this moment. “Uh…” he stuttered. But luckily for him, Willow had him covered.

“Well we were all just having some tea, Mr. Demon,” she said, showing Henry her undrinkable cup. Henry raised his eyebrow and Lucian buried his face in his hands. “Figured we’d wake up early for such an important day, right?” she said gesturing towards the Hatly sisters, who seemed as unprepared as Lucian was. Lucian suddenly saw Laura fixate on Henry, as though she had seen something, or read something.

“Uh…yes! Yes indeed” said Laura immediately agreeing to what Willow said. Charlotte then nodded too. Lucian saw Willow’s father Eustice stare at her suspiciously, but Willow acted as though nothing was wrong. Her casual demeanor was almost incredible.

Lucian also noticed Laura’s father Carlyle surveying the room from behind the others. He tried his best to flood his brain with random thoughts. His father looked at him with doubt. Or was it doubt? Either way, he tried his best to keep eye contact and maintain a normal appearance. What followed was an awkward moment where both parties remained silent. A silence that was only broken by Mrs. Morning.

“Well then, it is certainly very nice of you all to stay by Lucian’s side! Is it not?” she said, holding Henry by the shoulder as she made her way to the front of the group. Henry, unfortunately, was too focused on the children to notice immediately. Henry flinched and jerked his head when his mind finally registered what Mrs. Morning had said.

“Yes!” he said quickly and almost half-heartedly, “Very nice indeed”

“Good, so why don’t we all let them be? We have other business to attend to after all” said Mrs. Morning. Henry then straightened himself and nodded. “Yes, agreed” he then gave Lucian one last look before turning to the soldiers. His father gestured his hand and pointed in various different directions. They then scattered with some going back outside and some going further into the house. Once he was done with that, Henry turned to his peers and gestured towards the staircase.

“If you all may,” he said with a polite smile. Mrs. Morning left without a fuss. But Lucian saw both Eustice and Carlyle look at their children suspiciously. Especially Eustice. Henry then turned to Lucian and, to Lucian’s surprise, nodded his head. Lucian, who was still quite unprepared, awkwardly nodded back. Henry then turned around without a second thought and left.

The moment all the adults were gone from view Lucian saw both Willow and the Hatlys sigh deeply with relief. And from his right, Willow stood up from her chair. She kept her undrinkable cup on the tray and placed the whole thing on a nearby desk before standing up and heading out of the room.

“Where are you going?” asked Laura, floating her cup onto the tray as well.

“Can’t you read it from my mind?” Willow asked. “I’m going to follow them.”

“Why? Won’t you be seen by the soldiers immediately?” asked Charlotte.

Willow simply smiled smugly. “And what would they think? I doubt they will assume I have any ulterior goals when it comes to talking to my own father! Besides, I have the future on my side.”

Charlotte tilted her head doubtfully, “So that’s your plan? Walk into a room and hope to learn something?”

“No,” Willow said simply. “I hope to get something. As soon as your sister tells me what she saw when the adults walked in here.”

All eyes diverted to her, Laura gave Willow a glance. But she didn’t try to hide anything. “I didn’t see much,” she said, trying to recollect what she heard. “Just letters, numbers and an envelope. Everything else was shrouded in worried thoughts.”

Lucian didn’t like the sound of that. But Willow only seemed to pay attention to the first part of what Laura said. “An envelope, you say? A letter of sorts?” she said with intrigue.

“Yes, white with a wax stamp. But that’s all I saw” said Laura. It seemed to Lucian that that was all Willow needed.

“Well, I assume it must be important for it to occupy Mr. Demon’s mind so thoroughly,” she said, more convinced than ever. Laura nodded. Charlotte still looked at Willow with doubt. And all of it made Lucian’s curiosity reach a fever pitch. He knew that Willow was right, and he wanted to know more.

“I’ll come with you,” he said standing up next to Willow. Willow looked at Lucian with genuine surprise for a moment; she then smiled smugly and turned towards the Hatlys. “See? At least Lucian here is nice enough to help me,” she said while nudging Lucian on the shoulder.

“You didn’t ask for our help…,” said Laura. A response that Willow was apparently waiting for since she immediately cut her off. “I shouldn’t have to, it's common courtesy to help a friend. Even with something some would consider rather questionable, wouldn’t you agree?” She said, turning to Lucian. Lucian looked at Laura and Charlotte, both of whom were unimpressed. He did not respond even though Willow apparently expected him to. However, his silence still did not defer her.

“Well then,” she said, turning back to the Hatlys. “We’re off! And you’re welcome to join. I assume you’re a little bit curious… or bored,” she said. What followed was an awkward silence, as she did not receive any response to her very convincing pitch, even from Lucian. So she continued. “Besides, we still have hours before Lucian’s ceremony. We won’t even have breakfast for another three hours! Are you going to just sit there and do nothing for a whole day?”

Lucian saw Laura raise an eyebrow, she then glanced at Charlotte who shrugged. Lucian knew they needed their help. He tried to echo that through his thoughts in a subtle manner, hoping they would take the hint. Finally, a moment later, Laura rolled her eyes and stood up.

“I suppose you’re right, we might as well come along with you,” she said, straightening her gown. To which Willow smiled joyously, “Wonderful! Our prospects for success are no longer non-existent!” she then momentarily turned to Lucian and whispered, “No offense to you”

Laura flinched. Her mood slowly shifted towards anger. “So you need us? Why didn’t you tell us that from the start? Instead of being so long winded!” she said with a voice laced with an undertone of annoyance.

“Oh I could’ve” Willow said casually, “But where’s the fun in that? Many people would like to know the future, but few would ever like to understand it. Best to just let them do it all on their own, it’s more amusing that way”

“And more frivolous, '' Laura remarked quite harshly. But Willow simply laughed at such a statement. “Time is an infinite road, Hatly. Everything you or I do is frivolous in the end. So why not have some fun?”

Laura went silent, and so did Charlotte and Lucian. Yet Willow continued, “I wouldn’t be so insulted by a little verbal mischief. Or are you just upset that you can’t read my mind as easily and conveniently as everyone else’s? Not when I don’t want you to.”

Laura was not amused; she stared at Willow with utter disdain while Willow smiled innocently. She then sighed and took a deep breath before composing herself. Willow said nothing; instead, she walked out of the living room gesturing to the others to follow her. Lucian saw Charlotte give a sympathetic shrug to her sister as she walked past her. He himself then began to follow her as they made their way out of the room. Laura walked up behind Lucian, staying quiet as they made their way to the stairs.

“Do you even know where the adults went? They could be in any one of these rooms!” said Charlotte walking beside Willow.

“Well, that’s a bit tricky. They could be anywhere. But I know they would be somewhere secretive” she said. She turned her head back to address Lucian, “Is there any place your father isn’t particularly fond of you being in? A private office? A study of sorts?”

“A study,” Lucian replied swiftly. “The second door in the hallway to the right. It’s my father’s private study”

“Then that’s where we’ll look first!”

Willow then quickened her pace as they made their way to the second floor. Charlotte followed suit, trying to keep up. Lucian also tried to walk faster but before he could take another step, he felt a hand grab him by the right shoulder. He turned around and saw Laura holding him back while the other two walked further and further away.

“You have some explaining to do,” she said in a quiet whisper.

“What do you mean?” asked Lucian with a shrug. Laura then walked in front of Lucian while still holding onto him in order to prevent him from walking away. “You’re hiding something! I’ve seen it. Your mind is burying something important”

Lucian tried his best not to panic at that moment. He had known that an eventual confrontation would come from either the Hatlys or the Morrows. But he wasn’t prepared for it. Lucian didn’t know whether he should talk. Would he be betraying Lira’s trust? Or was it inevitable? He took a deep breath and straightened himself while trying to keep his mind as blank as possible.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why would I hide something from you?”

It was clear that his oblivious approach wasn’t working, Laura looked behind her for a moment and then grabbed Lucian by the collar once she realized no one was looking.

“I know you’re hiding something! You’ve been hiding something since yesterday. I can see glimpses of it in your mind. I know you lied to the Bernsteins, I know it!”

She then leaned closer to Lucian, her voice sounding cold and frustrated. Perhaps because she had been unable to get the information out of Lucian’s mind. “So what is it? Does it have something to do with our parents?”

Lucian’s mind was racing, still conflicted. “I’m not supposed to say. And it doesn’t have anything to do with our parents!”

Laura let go. Apparently realizing that Lucian wasn’t as persistent as she had original expected. Lucian tried to be as vague as possible while still trying to keep his mind blank.

“If it isn’t about the adults, then why are you so keen to hide it?”

“Lira told me to keep it a secret, and apparently I can’t even do that properly” Lucian remarked. The name Lira made Laura raise her eyebrow. “So Lira is involved? So that’s the reason she called you yesterday”. Lucian nodded. She then placed her hand on her chin and pondered. “Of course she knows something; I suppose the adults are willing to let her in on the secret since she’s the oldest”

“She didn’t tell me much, just that the Morrows saw something. Something that will happen today! And it isn’t good”

“The Morrows?” said Laura, now more calm and curious. “So this has something to do with the future. Why didn’t Willow say anything? Actually, never mind that. Knowing her, she would convey it through a long series of ‘jokes’ that no one would find amusing”

“Willow doesn’t know. Remember, she said she couldn’t see anything involving her parents” said Lucian in Willow’s defense. Laura sighed. “So what is this future that Lira thought so dire as to warn you about? And why hasn’t she told any of us?”

“I don’t know. All I know is that it will happen after the ceremony. Maybe Lira thinks if I tell you it would change the future. Maybe that’s the reason they brought so many Gratousy here”

“Hmmm” he heard Laura murmur. “Perhaps you’re right. But I doubt it. Knowing them it was probably to stop us asking too many questions”

“Well, I still don’t think you should tell this to anyone else,” Lucian pleaded. “It isn’t very useful and I don’t want to take the risk of changing the future”

Laura pondered some more, perhaps wondering whether Lucian’s concerns were worth taking into consideration. “So what are we supposed to do during this so-called ‘bad event’?”

“I’m supposed to take you all into the Mirror for safety. When my ceremony is done, I’ll have the ability to open the Gateway. Lira told me that I would be the only one who can when the time is right”

“The Mirror? You mean the place that is impossible to traverse and the place that’s supposedly infested with grotesque monsters. The place that no Circulion is allowed to enter?” said Laura doubtfully. Lucian was worried whether she would think he was making this up.

“Lira said it will be the only safe place when the time comes, if the time comes. And that’s all she told me, I swear on the Moor!”

Laura narrowed her eyes on Lucian. Perhaps she was still trying to read his mind. She stayed that way for a few moments before relenting. She then turned around and gave Lucian a side-eyed glance. “I suppose telling the others right away wouldn’t be of much use. Not until we know more”

Lucian sighed in relief. Laura then turned around and gave him a stern glare. “But don’t think you can hide a secret from me or Charlie. You know better than that”. Lucian calmed himself, “I told Lira that, she didn’t seem to think you’d be a problem”

Laura chuckled. “Well it is clear that she was wrong”. She then smiled, apparently satisfied by Lucian’s reluctant openness. “It is bad enough that I had to endure Morrow, don’t have me worrying about you. Joe told us to trust each other”

That made Lucian almost laugh aloud. “Ha, I would bet my life that Joe is secretly suspicious of all of us. You know he is just waiting for a chance to accuse one of us. So it’s ironic of him to preach trust when he trusts no one”

Laura raised her eyebrow, seemingly interested in Lucian’s opinion about his peer as he ranted. She then began to laugh quietly while Lucian still spoke. Perhaps she saw all the thoughts Lucian didn’t say out loud floating around in his mind. “I suppose you’re right, but so is he. If we are to figure out what’s going on here then we should trust each other. Don’t you agree?”

Lucian nodded and managed a small smile. Laura smiled back in response. Then they both turned and walked in the direction of Henry’s study in order to catch up to Willow and Charlotte. They entered the second floor and turned right onto the second hallway, the hallway itself was sand green and plastered with a pattern of golden stars. Lucian walked onto the hallway and saw Willow and Charlotte standing in front of the second door. Both he and Laura walked up to them quietly as Lucian noticed that Charlotte had knelt down on her knees and placed her ear on the door. Willow saw them coming and sighed.

“Oh good, you came. I was beginning to worry that you both had run off”

“Was there a future where that happened?” asked Lucian. Willow tilted her head back and forth in response. Neither confirming nor denying.

“What are you doing?” asked Laura, watching perplexed as Charlie kept her head on the door.

“I can’t read their minds through the door, they’re too quiet,” she said in response while not moving. “I can just barely hear them through this door”

“Perhaps we should get Joe’s help. Hearing is of course his specialty,” suggested Willow. “I think his room is on the fourth floor”

“I’ll go!” said Charlotte, volunteering immediately, taking her ear off the door. “I can’t stand listening to this! It’s all jumbling and bickering!”

As Charlotte stood up to leave, Lucian took her place. He was curious so he knelt down on the floor and kept his ear to the door. He realized Charlotte was right; all he could hear was muffled noise coming from several arguing voices. He could barely make out which voice belonged to who. The only one he could recognize was his father’s, most likely because it was familiar to him. He could hear words like ‘you’ and ‘we’. But other than that he couldn’t hear anything substantial.

He watched as Willow and Charlotte walked off into the hallway in the direction of the stairs. Meanwhile Lucian took his ear off the door and leaned against the wall once he realized there was no point.

“Aren’t you worried?” he asked Laura.

“About what?”

“About the adults opening the door and finding us here. Wouldn’t you think they would find that peculiar?”

“I doubt Willow would leave us here without telling us that. Besides, I can hear their minds enough to know that they have no intention of coming out at this moment”

“You can hear them?” Lucian asked with mild surprise and intrigue.

“Just their loudest thoughts. I can hear minds better than Charlie, but walls always present a very difficult barrier,” said Laura, staring at the sand-green wall.

“Can you hear all their minds? Even your father’s?” Lucian asked, more curious than ever. The mentioning of her father made Laura look at Lucian with an expression of surprise But such a look only lasted for a moment before she went back to staring at the wall.

“No,” she said plainly. “I can’t hear his thoughts. Frankly, I have never heard them. My father has spent decades building walls around his mind that neither I nor anyone else can see through”

Lucian paused for a moment and thought about it. He felt bored and some thoughts ran across his mind. “So I imagine it must feel quite odd, listening and only hearing silence”

Laura cracked a small smile. “No, it doesn’t feel odd. It is quite relaxing actually. Listening to thoughts is quite overwhelming. It’s nice to hear nothing for once”. But Lucian then saw her frown. “Though it is quite daunting”

“How?” asked Lucian, eager to keep the conversation going. Laura didn’t seem quite as eager but she replied anyway, “There is a sense of longing in not hearing the thoughts of one of the people you’re closest to. Especially when you can hear everyone else. Imagine hearing the feelings and opinions of everyone around you, but never being able to hear it from one of the people you value the most”

Lucian understood what she meant. And in that moment he felt as though he shouldn’t have asked. He stayed silent and decided just to stare at the floor instead of probing further.

But just then, just as Lucian was about to wonder where Willow and Charlotte had gone. He heard the sound of a click and a clang. And when he looked at the source of the sound, he saw the door knob turn and the door open.

Within moments, Lucian saw Laura eyes widen with shock. Lucian himself staggered onto his feet while still leaning into the wall as though he were trying to avoid a monster. He saw an arm emerge along with the door, a body followed the arm, multiple bodies followed the first body and before he knew it, the adults surrounded him as they obliviously walked onto the hall.

The moment they exited the room Lucian saw all eyes turn to him and Laura. He saw Henry turn his gaze away from his discussion with Mr. Hatly and he felt its weight as it fell on him. He noticed Laura freeze when confronted with her own father. He saw that all the adults had shifted their expression from pleasantly casual to utterly confused.

“What are you doing here?” Henry asked suddenly after a long and awkward pause. And while his volume was not loud enough to be frightening it still made Lucian shake. “I...uh” he stuttered. But his whimpering did not seem to improve his father’s mood. He saw Henry raise an eyebrow. He saw Mr. Hatly glare at him sternly.

“Nothing!” he then heard Laura say. He watched as all eyes turned to her. Eyes that were equally as confused.

“Nothing? What do you mean nothing?” Carlyle Hatly asked roughly. Laura seemed to be just as nervous as Lucian was. Perhaps she too was trying to block her mind. “What I meant was...” she said but then broke off, as she apparently had no idea what to say next.

“Soldiers,” said a voice echoing through the short hallway. Lucian desperately looked at the entrance of the hallway and saw Willow, Charlotte and Joseph standing there. Willow marched towards them with a cheerful smile on her face. She stood next to the adults and maintained a casual demeanor as she spoke.

“We came here to ask you about the soldiers. Specifically why you brought so many of them”

“Is that a problem?” asked Eustice standing tall next to his daughter. Lucian saw Willow waver, but she didn’t crumble like him or Laura. “Not at all, it’s just…concerning,”

“Well, I wouldn’t worry, dear” said Carlyle. “There is nothing to fret; it’s all just for extra safety,”

“Safety from what, though?” Willow inquired. Eustice then sighed. “You heard Mr. Hatly, Willow. There is no need to worry. And no need to inquire further,” he then turned to Lucian and Laura “And that goes for all of you, understand?”

They all shook their heads in agreement. Both Mr. Hatly and Mr. Morrow seemed to be satisfied. But Lucian saw Henry eyeing him suspiciously, so he put his head down and tried to avoid eye contact. Every second seemed to feel like an eternity. But luckily Mrs. Morning once again broke the sense the tension was slowly creeping into the room.

“Well, now that that’s settled. I feel like indulging in some wine, don’t you?” she said. “Besides, we have some things to discuss with Leonard. Oh wait, is he even awake, dear?” she asked suddenly turning to Laura. Laura took deep breath and calmed herself; the initial shock from the sudden confrontation seemed to leave her. “No, Mrs. Morning. I don’t think so. I didn’t see him downstairs,” she said sternly.

“Well thank you, dear. I suppose he’ll be along later. But in the meantime, I feel like getting a drink. What do you say, gentlemen?”

There was still a sense of uneasiness in the room. But it was clear to Lucian that they had somewhat successfully avoided seeming too suspicious. But Lucian wasn’t sure. “I think that’s a splendid idea,” said Mr. Morrow. A reply that made Lucian sigh quietly in relief. “I personally cannot wait to taste what old Henry has in his stores, right?” he said nudging Henry, who had been quite quiet this whole time, in the shoulder.

“Yes, yes” he said weakly, his mind seemingly preoccupied with suspicious thoughts about his son. “But don’t drink it all…or I’ll make you pay for it!”

All three of the others laughed cheerfully, especially Mrs. Morning. “Good, good. So why don’t you all stop pestering the children and let’s have some merriment while we’re all here!”

She then slowly pushed both Eustice and Carlyle by the shoulder until both of them turned away and walked out of the hall. But Henry wasn’t so quick to leave, his gaze still fixated upon Lucian.

“Is there something you need to tell me, son?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. Lucian momentarily glanced at the others. He saw both Laura and Willow shake their heads slightly. He returned his gaze back to Henry.

“No…father,” he said with as much confidence as he can muster. Henry glanced at the other children. He seemed to realize that whatever confession he was after, he wasn’t going to get it. So he simply turned away and walked out of the hallway without saying a word. Lucian watched tensely as Henry turned the corner and when he did, he unleashed a breath of relief so relieving that it nearly made him collapse onto the ground.

“Well, thank the Moor that that’s over,” said Willow, who seemed equally relieved.

But Laura didn’t seem to feel the same way. She jerked her head towards Willow maliciously. Willow took a step back. But within a moment Laura lunged at her, her face riddled with fury.

“Why did you DO THAT?” she screamed. She nearly reached Willow with her hands outstretched but luckily, Charlotte grabbed her by the waist and held her back while Willow hid behind Joe.

“Do what?” she whimpered. “Why didn’t you TELL US THAT WE MIGHT GET SEEN?” Laura continued after she stopped struggling to break free from her sister’s arms.

“I didn’t know! I can’t see any future where my father is present, remember? Have some civility!” said Willow still cowering behind Joe, who seemed too out of the loop and sleepy to do anything.

“She’s right!” said Charlotte letting go of Laura once she calmed down. “Besides, why couldn’t see them coming?” Laura turned to her sister, still angry. “I was distracted! And even then I could only hear vague thoughts; they were still in their discussion when they came out!”

“Well there’s no point in being needlessly angry about it now!” said Willow, “They are gone now. And you, thankfully, managed to avoid revealing all our secrets to your father!”

“Well I don’t think they were fully convinced of our innocence. Given Demon’s less-than-subtle performance, if you could even call it that,” said Joe, yawning with his eyes fixed on Lucian. “I wasn’t trying to be obvious. I was just taken by surprise, just like Laura”

“I’d say you couldn’t fool anything other than a worm. I doubt many Demons are astute liars”

Lucian frowned. He raised his finger in order to argue. But before he could, Charlotte spoke up with an intent to break up the arguing.

“Would you all stop this nonsensical bickering? Do I have to remind everyone of what we came here for?”

Everyone went quiet. Lucian put his hand down and Joe seemed to back off as well. Willow and Laura still glared maliciously at each other but neither said anything. Charlotte then approached the door and turned the doorknob. Sure enough, it was locked.

“We need to find a way inside if we intent to get to that letter” she said pulling on the door a few more times. “Do you have a way to get in?”

Lucian shook his head. He saw Joe raise his eyebrow snidely. Lucian did not take kindly to that. He approached the door and attempted to open it. It still wouldn’t budge. He then kept his hand on his chin and pondered while staring at the lock. He could try to force it open by shifting the door. But he knew such an action would be hard to conceal.

“Can’t you force the lock? Make it turn from the inside?” asked Willow. “That tends to be a common trick”

“I tried it once when I was younger,” said Lucian, trying Willow’s suggestion by placing his hand over the lock and attempting to open it through sheer will. “I wanted to see why he always fussed over this room. Unfortunately, he caught me rummaging through his desk. He was not pleased. I am sure he had the lock changed in order to make it harder to do”

He noticed Willow and the Hatly sisters give him amused and sympathetic smiles and gasps while Joe rolled his eyes out of disinterest. He tried to find some other way to open the lock. However, as he thought he heard a sudden voice echo through the hall.

“What are you doing?”

BACK TO CONTENTS- HERE

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jenzel · 1 year ago

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As someone who really likes the new Hunger Games movie, I'm actually really curious to hear why you didn't like it, if you're okay with answering that

HI HELLO

No actually thanks for asking because tbh I didn't give it a fair shake in that post, usually I would have rambled in the notes a bit more SO

Disclaimer: I didn't read the book.

also I'm just some guy

Things I loved, no notes:

Rachel Zegler is an actual Star and I want to go and watch everything she's been in now. Her voice is incredible and fully sold the impact of the character.

Things I loved, some notes:

Premise and plot - I was really really intrigued by the idea of seeing an early form of the Hunger Games, like I would actually just read a massive essay on the history of them and also how they work on every single level (and may have been binge-watching the Tales of The Hunger Games series on youtube). I kind of don't care about some critiques of how plausible or not plausible the entire setup of Panem is because it's consistent within the narrative and it's a Neat Idea, which gives it some immunity from worldbuilding logic.

So, with all that being said, I was left a bit wanting.

My main issue, which I've had with a LOT of high-budget high-concept stuff recently, is that it all still felt sort of cheap and rushed - outfits and sets didn't really look lived in, I felt like a lot of scenes could have benefitted from more interesting dialogue and shot choices. Maybe something to disguise the very necessary info dumping and exposition in the way that the OG did so elegantly. Maybe I'll go back and really highlight some specific things (like whyyyy did the scene introducing the rainbow snakes feel so... not tense at all) but every time I got on board with the movie it seemed determined to throw me off. I might stop with this particular bit of critique now because I feel like if I'm not going to go and do a proper breakdown then it's unfair.

Costumes - Of course the costumes slap. They gotta. I saw some people weren't keen on Lucy Gray's dress but I don't care it was cute, maybe I've got bad taste. I will add that unfortunately all the other tributes and a good portion of the rest of the cast completely failed to imprint on me in any way, and the samey styling contributed to that. Actually add this to my point above, where were the supporting characters who stuck as vividly in my memory and attention as Effie, Haymitch, Rue, Gale or Cinna?? Maybe I can't name all the 74th Hunger Games tributes off the top of my head but I can picture a lot of them, they felt distinct enough for the screentime they had.

Volumnia can stay, Viola Davis had the most fun on screen of all time.

And as much as I did love the costuming, and as much as I would also put Hunter Schafer in incredible outfits all day if I had the opportunity, the Whole Idea of some of these characters were smothered by their cool wardrobes. I'm not buying that the Snow family are in an absolutely DIRE situation when Tigris has a new outfit for every appearance (she COULD have, like if we were given the impression that she was altering and making new outfits herself!!). I'm not seeing Corolianus's obsession with saving face, with presenting the image he wants to present, I'm not seeing his too-tight shoes I'm just being told that they are.

Onto one last point, maybe.

Things I was completely eh about:

Corolianus - ehhhhh. Some friends told me that the internal monologue you have access to in the book is a massive part of his characterization and I'm going to take their word for it. Prose is a ridiculously powerful way to get inside a character's head.

So I'm going to have to assume that he was more memorable in the book, because I'm really not sure what I was supposed to take away from his story... and not in a cool ambiguous interpretation way. He felt overwhelmingly just There.

That's everything I can think of right now!

#hunger games fans please don't read this I know nothing #I don't even go here #prin you're the exception because you Asked #and also I hope this is okay!! honestly I feel like you'd be able to say much more interesting things about this movie

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27emailsicantsend · 2 years ago

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Set it Up: A Rina AU

Chapter Three

"Hey buddie, how was work?" Seb asked Ricky Monday night after Ricky spent the day negotiating the terms of Nini's contract with Gina and her. Seb was making an intricate salad for Carlos and himself for dinner that night, while Ricky had come through the front tour, his sight set only on the couch. Once he got to their disheveled heap they called "furniture", Ricky collapsed into the left side, his body sinking lower into the cushion than he remembered.

"Hey Seb, next time we buy a couch, let's test the cushions first," Ricky groaned, moving his weight to the other side.

Seb raised his knife Ricky's way in agreement, "ditto".

"And it was... a lot. We found a new artist to work with EJ, but from what I've heard about her is that she can be a nightmare. And her assistant is even more difficult to deal with. She's so... perky? And somehow equally as intense. It is really hard to read her sometimes. And then EJ has been outlandishly bad this week. He.... well, let's just say he must be going through something because I can't seem to keep up with anything he needs. And sometimes this job just seems like so much... I just feel like I won't be able to make a sustainable life off of it unless I live up to EJ's expectations of me-"

"-Ricky?" Seb cut off his rambling, now sprinkling what looked to be cheddar cheese into the bowl.

"Yeah?"

"I love you so much. You know this. But I only asked how was work. Don't you have a girlfriend to vent to about this stuff?" Seb asked the question kindly, but Ricky could tell he really didn't want to hear everything.

Especially since it was about Carlos’ place of work, it probably felt uncomfortable focusing on the problematic parts of it. Carlos didn’t seemed to mind EJ, because they had this keen sense of “finer things” that they shared, but Ricky felt like he wasn’t quite at their level yet. Of course, he wanted the money and nice cars, that was the whole point of wanting the promotion, but he also wanted to maintain his dignity in pursuit of material possessions. This was a trait EJ lost and Carlos has started the path down.

"Right... sorry. I do, but I tried to call Lily three times today and she keeps dodging my calls. I know she's mad I haven't taken her on a date in weeks... And you already know she won't be helpful. Advice isn’t really her ‘thing’," Ricky admitted, rubbing the nape of his neck.

"Well, when you date someone boring, you're going to be bored, Rick. If she’s that hard to talk to and doesn’t want to be around you, why haven't you broken up with her yet?" Seb counseled, now pulling meat out of a warm roast chicken. “No offense”.

"None taken," Ricky responded hopelessly. "But everyone has flaws. Not everyone is supposed to have a girlfriend who gives great advice or who wants to listen to my problems all of the time. I think that would make the relationship boring... And you know that you don't hear me complain about Carlos!"

"That's because he complains for the both of us," Seb joked. This was another one of EJ’s traits Carlos was beginning to manifest. Ricky and Seb knew that Carlos had an eye for finer detail and liked things being precise, so Seb was happy to accommodate. Seb was more carefree and laid back, and Carlos was more outgoing and wild. They were the perfect yin to each other’s yang and brought out the best parts in one another.

It's why the salad wasn't premade from the local grocery store and instead had the details of a gourmet restaurant. But it’s also why Carlos will let most of their “date nights” be at home. They work together in the best way.

“...you probably want me to leave for your date night, huh?” Ricky presumed a few seconds later.

“Yes, please. Get out,” Seb lovingly commanded him, before accidentally drenching the salad in homemade vinaigrette.

Meanwhile, a few blocks down, Gina had just gotten home from her exhausting day with Nini. All she wanted to do was throw on her pajamas, put on a movie, and talk to Kourtney about how bad she feels for ditching Jack so much. Jack had been so kind and accommodating to her insane schedule, letting her continuously bump the first date (which they were still waiting to go on). Somehow his flexibility and patience made Gina feel like she had a real chance with him.

Tonight was another night they were going to go on a first date, but Gina had spent the entire day catering to every single one of Nini’s commands. Ricky had gone home before Gina and Nini was trying extra hard to impress EJ as her new producer. So Gina found herself running a lot of errands this night, some of which EJ said she didn’t have to do, but Nini insisted it was “for the best”.

Gina wanted to see Jack when she was free and not exhausted, but it seemed like that was wishing for the unthinkable. Once again, Gina found herself telling Jack that night she wouldn't be able to go out with him. Gina sent the text and felt the tears begin to form in her eyes. She wasn't sure if she was crying out of anger, stress, or pure exhaustion, but she just wanted Kourtney to come home. She wanted the two of them to get in their pajamas, put on face masks, and complain about Gina’s love life and the work grind of New York City.

And, as though by magic, when Gina wished for Kourtney to be back, she heard two voices outside the door.

The couch Gina was sitting on had it’s back facing the door, so she had enough time to wipe the initial tears off her face and collect herself. When she heard Kourtney and Jet walk she tried to, slightly embarrassed, muster up a normal voice before greeting them home.

"Hey guys! What's up?" Gina asked, holding back a sniffle.

"So... we have something to tell you!" Kourtney and Jet walked around the couch to a couple of chairs placed close together. The chairs were facing the couch, so Gina had no where else to look but at the couple. Hands laced tight, Kourtney held up Jet’s and hers to reflect a large diamond ring. It was about double the size of Kourtney’s finger and had a solid gold band to hold it in place. Gina couldn’t help but wonder how Jet could afford that with his small job.

Gina was somehow equally excited for Kourtney and equally embarrassed that all she wanted to do was wallow in loneliness and being "legally single". Now Kourtney could file “married” on all court documents and Gina was left checking the “single” box. Gina gathered up whatever happiness she could (albeit sounding slightly fake) and congratulated the pair.

"Oh my gosh, you guys!! I'm so happy for you!" Gina ran over and hugged them both, Kourtney letting out a little squeal. After some gawking at Kourtney’s ring, Gina sat back down and tried to push her upset feelings to the side for the rest of the night. She listened sincerely as Kourtney and Jet retold the details of the night.

Kourtney explained that Jet brought her to a private pier with candles placed everywhere- the deck, the railings, and even on a small table behind him. He sprinkled rose petals all over and had a private violinist playing “their song”. After the proposal, the two went to a fancy seafood restaurant nearby and then came back to tell Gina first because it was late and Kourtney didn't want to hide the ring.

Gina was flattered she knew even before their parents, but as attentive as she was, the more they talked, the more her spiraling thoughts came back. She knew she had to get up early, so she used that as an excuse to leave the conversation and uneasy feeling she had.

The next morning, Gina showed up to Nini's old studio and helped her pack her things to move over to EJ's studio. Nini was extra stressed about the move, so she found new ways to harass Gina. From making fun of the out Gina chose (a sporty jacket and ripped jeans), to listing all the ways EJ will probably not be as good as her old producers (but couldn’t care less about having them back), to pretending to find a hair in her breakfast bagel (anyone would have thought it was a horror scene). By the time Gina and Nini arrived to EJ's, Gina was about fed up with Nini’s excessive complaining. It felt like Christmas Day to Gina, handing Nini over to EJ when he stated he wanted to work with her one-on-one that morning.

"How has EJ been?" Gina grouched, dropping a box on Ricky's desk. “I am having a lovely morning with Nini”.

"A nightmare. He made me rearrange his office sock drawer. He has a sock drawer in his office!" Ricky whined, making sure to keep his voice down so EJ and Nini didn't hear the pair from EJ's office. He couldn’t help but rub the temples of his forehead from stress.

"Who needs a sock drawer in their office?" Gina baffled, taking the rubber band ball off of Ricky’s desk and snapping it.

"He says the afternoon grind makes his feet sweaty," Ricky replied, rolling his eyes. He snatched the ball from Gina’s hand. “Give me that”.

Gina flinched in disgust.

"That is so gross... and if we’re going to be working together, you need to learn how to share. Playground rules,” Gina took the rubber band ball back, snapping away happily again.

Ricky chose not to notice Gina’s defiance and responded nonchalantly, "Tell me about it. It’s the absolute worst. Anyway, it's making me irritated because I have had to be out late with him every night to help him with this new hire. And before that, we were looking for the new hire. And before that... well, I don't know. But I'm always busy and I haven't seen my girlfriend in weeks because of it!"

"Tell me about it," Gina agreed, matching Ricky's irritation. "I have been trying to go on a date with this guy- also for weeks- with no luck. It made me feel even worse last night when my best friend came home, literally engaged, and I had to find it somewhere inside of me to be excited for her because I was too busy moping about my own love life".

"You had to fake being excited for your best friend?" Ricky pointed out.

"No, not like that," Gina backtracked, using the ball to gesture her thoughts. "I am so beyond excited for both of them. I guess... I just wish I had enough time in my life to have something like that too, you know? That I had other priorities besides work".

"Yeah, definitely," Ricky concurred before Gina continued what he believed to be her finished thought. She was now lightly pacing next to his desk and Ricky couldn’t tell if she was talking to him or herself again.

"And not to mention how oblivious they seemed. Not in a bad way, but it was like they were so happy. And I would give anything to have my life be that restful and easy again, while still maintaining the job,” Gina mused before setting the ball back down on the desk.

“I really don’t get what is happening,” Ricky laughed, watching Gina think out loud in amusement. He replaced the ball back to it’s original spot on the desk.

Gina didn’t respond. “But I can’t, because Nini stays constantly preoccupied with me. It makes me wonder if she’s happy, because she doesn’t really take breaks either..."

"Oh my gosh! That's it!" Gina blurted, making Ricky jump back in his chair.

"Argh! Don’t do that! You're going to send me into cardiac arrest!" Ricky reprimanded, sitting back up straight once he recollected himself. "What is it?"

"We need Nini and EJ to fall in love," Gina devised, her smile a little sinister.

"Absolutely not," Ricky protested. He knew that it was a sure way to get the both of them fired.

"Ricky, come on,” Gina whimpered. “If they were oblivious, they wouldn't care at all about us. I'm sure my face had mascara running down it and Kourtney, my best friend who knows me better than anyone, couldn't have bothered to ask. They would be so busy; they wouldn’t know anything about our whereabouts! We could get our lives back!”

"I... I really don't know about this, Gi- I mean Gina. We could get in a lot of trouble if they find out and I really can't get in trouble. I have a lot on the line right now. More than you know," Ricky’s voice was wavering.

"And I do too! But when people are in love, they are happy. And happy people treat other people better, making others happy. Making us happy. We could get everything we want. We are literally the puppeteers to their life. Look at this," Gina said, before pulling out her phone and scrolling to show Ricky Nini's digital calendar.

“I know everything about Nini. I make her schedule, I know her favorite food, her likes, her dislikes... I even know which family member she would want to use as a cover for murder, should she ever commit,” Gina continued persuasively.

"Huh?!" Ricky asked bewildered.

"Oh, oh no!" Gina panicked, quickly recovering her point. "She would never actually do that, I just mean I know who it would be... But I promise, Nini wouldn't... anyway, it just proves my point. Does EJ ever ask about his schedule?"

"Only when he thinks I left something out," Ricky replied, visceral flashbacks coming to his mind of his conversation about the loan.

"Exactly," Gina pushed. "They would. Never. Notice. if something got changed or moved around. We could be changing their lives for the better and ours. What do we have to lose?"

Ricky heard the word "everything" go through his head, but for some reason Gina was a lot more convincing. He felt like he was in over his head with work and he would love to spend any time he could with Lily again. And, as an added bonus for him, less time being bugged by Gina. As much as his instincts told him not to, he asked Gina a follow-up question to her own.

"If I said yes, what would be our first plan of action?" Ricky asked, feeling himself surrendering to the idea. The inquiry made Gina do a small dance in delight.

"Ok, I'm going to need to you to settle down if we're actually making this happen," Ricky requested, placing an arm on Gina's shoulder to get her to stop. She stopped immediately, her body shaking from trying to hold still, her mouth pursed together to keep noises from escaping.

Feeling like they weren’t going to get anything done until Gina got the dance out of her system, Ricky succumbed to her glee. "Ok, fine, you can dance for five more seconds and then it's Operation Cobra".

"Operation Cobra?" Gina queried, as her face quickly twisted from happiness to confusion.

"I watched a lot of Once Upon a Time growing up. Sue me," Ricky justified sarcastically.

Gina shrugged her shoulders and danced again for exactly five seconds before standing stiff as a board, hand to her forehead, ready for duty. As much as Ricky tried, he couldn't hold back his chuckles.

#hsmtmts #high school musical the musical the series #rina #ricky bowen #gina porter #set it up #charlie x harper #ricky x gina

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venusiangguk · 4 years ago

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hand-picked | jjk (m)

>>pairing: jungkook x reader / famous!jk x sex worker!oc

>>genre: strangers to lovers, smut, pwp, teaser, drabble

>>word count: 2.8k

>>warnings: glory hole au!!!, cocky jk, bad boy jk, stripper oc, sex work, sexual tension, awkward tension, hand job, blowjob, cumshot, cum on tits, pay for play, semi-anonymous sex, dirty talk, dishonesty... that’s it i think zzz

>>notes: if u don’t like sex workers ur ugly and i hate u 😌 also ty to @wheresmymoniat for betaing n helping me out, ily <3 *repost bc tag issues don’t mind me 🙄*

>>summary: glory holes weren’t a real thing... at least until you’re on your knees for a stranger, cock in your face, with nothing but a curtain between you.

Despite your nerves, you grasp the semi-hard cock in front of you, attached to a nameless person behind the curtain. For a moment you wonder what the hell you’re doing, but the soft sigh that you hear brings you back to the present. You stroke up and down, watching as he starts to become fully aroused. The foreskin rolls over the pink tip on every upstroke. You bite your lip. The silence is awkward, but you think maybe the whole situation is.

“So... what do you do? Like… not specifically of course, but are you an idol? An actor? You can be vague…”

Behind the curtain, Jeongguk, whom you don’t know the identity of, stiffens just a bit. Will his voice give him away? Maybe, but he was never one to turn down an opportunity to boast about himself and his achievements.

“I’ve done it all,” His voice is airy, softer than he would like, but your hand on his cock is speeding up, and so is his breathing. “I’m good at all of it too.”

You hum at the man’s response. Cocky. “Isn’t saying you’re good at a lot of things just another way of saying you’re not good enough at one thing? So you have to compensate by spreading yourself thin?” You gasp a small giggle when you feel the cock in your hand jump a little at your words. “Did you like that? It wasn’t meant to be degrading, but if that’s what you’re into-“

“It’s not- that.” He doesn’t know if he’s denying your psychoanalyzation, or your keen interpretation of the way his cock reacted to your psychoanalyzation but one was more inaccurate than the other. He actually was great at most everything he did, no need to overcompensate like you assumed.

Your small hand tightens, and you rub your thumb at the underside of the head, you let out a small pleased noise when you see a bead of precum well at the tip. “Really? You’re starting to leak a little.”

You sound amused and humorous and if Jeongguk had it in him he would be annoyed or even upset at the way you’re talking to him. You were basically hired help, a means to an end. He glances down his torso at his hard cock in your tiny, well-kept manicured hands. Your nails are a dark red, burgundy color. It complements your skin well, he thinks. He can’t see much of you, just your forearms, along with the bottom part of your tummy and your legs. You’re sitting on your knees between his spread out thighs, feet tucked under you. From the tight black leggings you’re wearing and the slim-fit long sleeve white crop top you have on, Jeongguk can tell you have a good figure. Your waist is tapered in, tiny and cinched, and your hips are wide enough to accentuate it, letting him know you’ve got a petite hourglass frame. You aren’t too skinny though, there’s a softness to your body that he likes. It’s not like he needed the tight fitting clothes to know what your body looked like, though. He’s already seen more of it than he is right now. His mind flashes to the club.

You may be hired help, but you were hand-picked by him.

“It’s just-“ He contemplates what to tell you and settles for, “It’s been a while.”

“Since?” You push. You hear footsteps outside and you hand stops, scared for some reason that you’ll get caught doing something bad. As if the door wasn’t locked and being guarded. Behind the black curtain, his hips lift just barely, urging you to keep going. Don’t stop.

“Since someone’s helped me.” Jeongguk’s head rolls back when your hand starts moving again. It’s been at least a few months since he’s gotten off with someone, his hand being his only companion. After the situation blew up even more than it had in months prior, his leash was tight. No wiggle room at all. He was suffocating and desperate. He almost cried when his team propositioned this arrangement, embarrassing as it was.

When he speaks, his voice is soft and everything is said with a sigh. He sounds so relieved, like it feels so good to be in your palm, like he’s been waiting for your hand on his cock forever. You blush, and right your thoughts. You don’t even know who he is or what he looks like. Still, you ask, “Does it feel good, do you like it?” Tone soft to match his.

Jeongguk nods and swallows thickly. Eyes still closed, letting the pleasure slowly work its way through his veins. Then he remembers you can’t see him. “Yeah.” He breathes.

You hum and keep up your ministrations. Not slow, but not fast either. You’re not quite sure what he likes yet, but the soft moans that flutter through the curtain at least let you know what you’re doing isn’t wrong.

“I like your hands,” He surprises you by saying. “They’re so small; soft,” A more vocal sound falls from his lips when you twist your hand on the upstroke. He’s chuckling when he says, “Kinda strokes my ego a little bit.”

You glance at the cock in your hand. It’s pretty. Thick and pink. A pleasant kind of heavy in your hand. The veins running over it are subtle enough to not be ugly or intimidating. The only intimidating thing about it is the size. He’s big. And you’re sure he already knows that.

You snort. “I don’t think you need that stroked.”

This makes him laugh a little harder. It’s a nice sound. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” He hums, you think you can hear a smile in his voice. It’s quiet again for just a moment before he says, “Will you- faster? Make your hand a little tighter too- yeah, like that.”

His hips sink into the chair when you comply with his requests before he’s bringing them back up, subtly thrusting into your palm. You fight back a moan; you shouldn’t be getting hot for someone you don’t even know right? This was strictly business. Still, you can’t help the slight shifting you do, squeezing your legs together for a little bit of pressure on your pussy.

Jeongguk notices. “Are you turned on?”

“No!” You squeak.

“You can touch yourself,” He offers.

“No!” You insist, “I-I’m fine.Thank you though.” You say dumbly.

He doesn’t say anything more, focuses on your hand on him, tugging just how he asked. His hand rubs over his stomach, flexing as he teases himself, his own light touches mixed with your strokes brings goosebumps over his skin. “Feels, so good.” He groans, eyes watching your hand under the curtain.

Encouraged, you bring your other hand up and massage lightly at his balls. They’re hairless, the only hair he has is the small trimmed patch above the base of his cock. He’s well kept and has good hygiene. That alone was attractive to you, stranger or not.

When you palm his balls, his legs spread as far as they can with his black cargo pants still around his calves, his big black stomper boots keeping them from being shed all the way. “Fuck,” He moans deep and loud for you. One of his hands comes down past the curtain and reaches for you before he quickly pulls it back. You think you saw a flash of ink on it, but you can’t be too sure, mind kind of fuzzy with poorly hidden arousal. The opposite hand comes into view, and your mouth parts in awe as he covers your own hand with his. It’s so much bigger than yours, completely enveloping it as he strokes himself off, using you in a way. Then again the whole arrangement was you both using each other.

“You’re mouth- put your mouth on it,” He sighs, pleasure just dripping from his lips. His cock is rock hard in both your hands, and you can tell he’s getting close.

You hesitate. “Will… will you be able to see me?”

Jeongguk comes out of his desire induced high a little bit and realizes what he said. He wants it, fuck does he want your mouth, but he probably should have asked. “No, no. I’ll lower the curtain a bit more if you want, and you don’t have to swallow. You don’t even have to suck it if you don’t want- like I know we have a thing going on but I would never like- force you I-“

He’s rambling a tad so you cut him off. “I want to, I think,” You whisper, taking in his intimidating size again, “I just- if I can’t know who you are, you can’t know who I am.” You blush feeling a little childish.

Jeongguk keeps the fact that he already knows what you look like and more or less who you are, at least on a surface level, to himself as he moves the curtain to the next lower notch, the bar resting just above his pelvis now. He can’t really see much of you at all anymore. “That’s fair, yeah, just-“ With your confirmation that you do in fact want to suck him off, he can’t keep the lustful neediness out of his voice, “Please.”

You take a deep breath as you wrap both of your hands around his cock, the tip still poking out the top. Tentatively you lick at his frenulum and the sound that comes from behind the curtain is obscene. His hips twitch and everything. You want to hear his noises, all of them, so you do it again. You flick your tongue fast over the most sensitive underpart of the head, before placing wet sucking kisses to the same area, almost making out with the tip of his cock.

“Oh my god-“ His body is pulled taut, and his hands are gripping the chair that he’s sitting in. “Fuck that’s- I love that.” He says, head dropping back, mouth open in a silent moan.

You moan against the tip of his cock, not able to hold yourself back anymore. Wrapping your lips around it, you take the head all the way into your wet, hot mouth, and suck. You lap up all the precum that leaked out, and point your tongue to play with the slit. The man behind the curtain is loud for you, letting you know just how good you’re making him feel. You get so lost in it that you don’t register him raising the curtain bar just enough for him to slip his hand past and push you off.

“S-sorry,” He says, panting, “I was about to cum.”

You make a small sound of confusion. “That’s okay, I can swallow- If you want me to.”

Jeongguk shakes his head behind the curtain. “No, I- I wanna watch… see your hands stroke me off.” His request is quiet but his cock pulses in your hand, needy and hot. Already begging for release, despite you not being at it for that long.

Wordlessly, you start stroking again, gathering the spit that’s on his tip to make the slide easier. It doesn’t take much time at all before his thighs are flexing and you can see the lower part of his abs tensing.

“Close,” He whispers.

Jeongguk watches as your tiny hands fly up and down his cock, grip tight just like he showed you. He’s doing his best to not fuck up into your hands, wanting to just rely on you and your movements, but it’s hard. Small eager little thrusts of his hips show you how ruined he is. And it’s just a handjob. He knows. If he was present enough he would probably be embarrassed by how angry and red his cock is, swollen and hot in your palm. And he’s just so wet, leaking all over the place making the strokes of your hand loud in the room.

He watches as you hunch over some, to where he can see everything below your neck, and your free hand comes up to your shirt. He sees you struggle a little bit as do your best to get the collar down under your bra, with only one hand before squeezing at your tits. “Do you want to cum on them?” You whisper.

“Fuck, please.” He whines high pitch and needy, all reservations out the window.

You hum, and work your arm faster over his cock, the rapid movements making your tits jiggle. “Do it, cum for me… cum all over my tits.”

You can’t see him, but Jeongguk’s face is lewd. Pleasure so apparent on his features, it almost looks painful. His eyebrows are furrowed, his mouth open, his cheeks flushed, and his eyes are wet and glassy, so overwhelmed by finally getting help after so long of cumming by himself. He’s chanting soft, pornographic yeah’s and yes’s until his whole body curls in on itself, you can see the way his legs tremble as he moans, “Fuck, I’m cumming.”

He forces himself to keep his eyes somewhat open, lidded and heavy with arousal, as he shoots all over your chest. You’re moaning with him behind the curtain as you work him through his orgasm, despite no physical pleasure being given to you, and that makes another small shot of cum dribble from his spent cock. You lean forward, careful of your identity, and wipe the leftover milky substance on your already soiled skin and black bra. You slap the slowly softening cock on them for good measure and Jeongguk groans.

You keep playing with his cock, not sure if he’s the type to like it or the kind that wants you off right after he finishes, but he winces and reaches his hand under after not too long, stopping you.

“Please,” He whines.

His voice is fucked out, and your pussy aches, needy and wet in your panties. “Oh, sorry…”

He laughs lightly. “No, no. Don’t say sorry… You’re like- so good.” Jeongguk sighs to himself out of your view. He’s leaning back in the chair, while running a hand through his sweaty hair. Little tremors of pleasure are still coursing through him, when he closes his eyes, blissed out, dazed and relaxed. Finally, after months of being pent up. “So, so good.” He murmurs softly, distractedly.

His hand that reached under the bar to grab yours to stop you, is lazily rubbing over the back of your hand, hold light and subconscious against his thigh. He probably doesn’t even know he’s doing it and you blush, shyly pulling your hand away. He doesn’t show any sign of even noticing and you both settle into a soft quiet, only your breaths sounding in the room.

“Um.” You say eloquently.

“Fuck sorry.” Jeongguk says, scooting the chair back to put his now soft cock away. He rolls his eyes to himself. Way to get stuck in the afterglow by himself with his flaccid cock in some girls face. “Let me get you a towel.”

“Should I put the blindfold back on?” You ask.

“Uh- Yeah.” He says stilted. This is weird. You just made him cum so hard he almost knocked out, and now he’s making you cover your eyes so you don’t figure out who he is.

You hear the hesitation in the man’s voice and assure him that it’s okay, while grabbing the blindfold you tucked into the waistband of your leggings. You knew how it went, you signed the papers. Patiently you wait until you hear him coming back and sense a soft moist towel being shoved under the bar. You blindly grab it with a soft, “Thanks.”

“I’ll go wait in the bathroom so you can- I don’t know…? Get ready to go I guess.” You hear his heavy boots retreat to the bathroom, that’s located on his side of the curtain, assuring that he wouldn’t be seeing you on his way.

With the blindfold off, you go about cleaning yourself. Your knees crack when you stand up after being sat on them for so long. Wincing, you run a hand through your long hair and walk over to the table where you left your bag. You leave the used rag in its place and you shoulder the purse. About to make your way to the door, you pause.

“I’m uh- leaving?” You yell unsure.

“Okay,” He yells back through the door. “Did you- did they- your- did they give you the-“ He stutters, not sure how to ask if you got paid.

The wad of cash in your purse is heavy. Figuratively and literally. “Yeah, they did.”

“Okay… Good. I’ll um see you next time?” He sounds hesitant and shy.

You laugh. “Yeah I guess so.” And with that, you make your way out of the hotel, thinking that he sounds a whole lot less entitled and cocky than he did when you first got there.

~~~

hiii guysss! thanks for reading this lil drabble! This is kind of like a teaser for a longer fic i have on the back burner (let me know if you like the concept and want me to continue!) but i wanted to post something because i havent for a few weeks bc i have been soo busy with school pls i want to cry 🥲 i should be doing maths as i post this lmao. ANYWAY! thanks again for reading, if u liked it, pls like, comment, reblog, or even send an ask! love talking to u guys n feedback is always lovely <3

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yanderenightmare · 4 years ago

Note

bitchy bratty catty pretty-girl who gives fuck-all, the school tries to straighten her ways by introducing her to a temporary captured shiggy, who is soooo fucking pissed off at this smug pretty bitch, going to track her down and make her pay!!!! >-< plez Mizz Nightmare

yandere kidnapper ! SHIGARAKI TOMURA

TIP-JAR

goodiebag WARNINGS: yandere, dubcon/noncon, abuse, profanity, bullying, anxiety, drugging, kidnapping, abduction

CUTTHROAT

“Wow! Right for the kill?! You’re real cutthroat.”

She wasn’t really surprised to hear that they’d caught him, and unlike many others she wasn’t surprised to hear that they’d be holding him on campus. She had full confidence in both the faculty, the promising Hero-course students, and UA’s security system, knowing damn well it could serve well as a prison not just for the students who went there, such as herself, but for the leader of the League of Villains as well.

To say she felt safe as she walked with Aizawa to meet him would be an understatement. She knew why the teacher had been tasked with taking her there, the intention being to scare her, give her a picture of what scum she would become if she continued down the path of fuck-all she was currently on. But, even though she wanted to rebel against taking any orders, she was feeling something far more superior than the will to fight back, something that trumped safety and laid waste to fear, she was feeling thrill.

This would be a means to an end, a cure for boredom as well as a way to show once and for all that she was a hopeless cause, maybe then these obsessive heroes would leave her the fuck alone already.

“Wow, you’re really ugly! I mean, they warned me you were, but I could never’ve imagined it’d be this bad!”

She was jeering laughs at the lanky figure who towered over her, his hand wrapped tightly around her throat and his eyes spiraling in disbelief in process of understanding why what was found beneath his fingertips wasn’t turning to ash.

“Aren’t bad guys supposed to be sexy?” Her idiotic rambling only succeeded in confusing him more as she shrugged his seemingly useless normal hand away, walking to sit down on the floor, knowing it would be a while until Aizawa let her out again. “You know, to seduce and lure people into their ranks?” She looked over the meal tray he’d flipped out of her hand before seizing her throat, nothing sharp, no cutlery, no broken glass, just one measly apple. “I’m guessing you’re not in charge of recruiting. I mean… who would ever want to follow your ugly mug?”

She watched in anticipation of what remark he’d hurl her way. She’d heard he was bratty, she’d heard he was the one who could set her straight, divert her from this collision-course she’d set herself out on. Yet, his response was more than disappointing, not at all the tornado of a tantrum she had been preparing for. “You talk too much.” He didn’t even sound at all any provoked by her words, dismissing her as he slowly made to pick up the apple from the ground, checking to see if it was his quirk that was gone or if there was something else afoot, finding his answer in the ashes of the fruit.

“Come on.” She drawled, crossing her legs beneath her, keen eyes looking at him as he too sat back down to lean against the wall, looking only a fair bit of annoyed with her presence, as though she were a stain on his shirt, an inconvenience of some sorts. “You were gonna kill me!” She laughed, his red scrutinizing orbs looking to her with a sneer. “Without a thought, in cold blood, no remorse, even after I gave you food like the mutt you are, the least I can do is spit in your face!”

He didn’t answer. Eyes still set on her where she sat planted without a single care, annoyed with how comfortable she looked, as though she were in her element, as though she was winning some sort of game, a game that wasn’t even about him as her eyes flittered to the black-glass of the window every now and again.

She clicked her tongue, beginning a new ramble. “Tell me, Shiggy.” She smiled, eyes wicked and gleaming and untamed. “That quirk of yours…”

She might have phrased it all like a question, but Shigaraki could hear it plain and simple, how her one goal was to mock him, poke at him until he burst, and not even for the sake of watching him burst, but for the sake of proving to whomever was on the other side of that glass that they couldn’t tame her. He didn’t need to know her entire story to see that much, how he was being used as a pawn to convert some meaningless pretty-girl.

“Can you control it? Or does everything you touch turn to ash no matter your desire?” It wouldn’t have been out of place if she’d licked her lips with how dripping with venom her words were. “It’s like the Midas touch, isn’t it?”

Her poetic phrasing of his deadly quirk had his eyes narrowing, but he hadn’t much time to think her wording over before she began a new escapade.

“Have you ever fucked anyone, Shiggy?” She didn’t even look at him as she asked, alerting him of what he already knew, how she had no interest in his answer, only his reaction, and the reaction his reaction would beckon from the people in the other room.

She was trying to rile him up, prove how vicious she could be, prove how she hadn’t a single fuck to give.

“I bet you’ve never truly touched anyone. How could you? I mean, first…” She laid down on her back with a careless roll, looking to the ceiling, ignoring him if it weren’t for the fact she was talking to him, or about him, or at him. “Who would ever want to fuck you? All those wrinkles and all those scars. You look like the onset of death.” She giggled, and he watched her tits bounce as though they were laughing at him too. “I cannot imagine anyone willingly wanting whatever you have to offer. And even if you force it on them, you’d be bound to fuck up with how much they’d struggle.” You’d think she carried a vendetta toward him, with how personal her attacks were, yet it was all given away with how little she was paying attention to him, as though she’d judged already whatever it was she found interesting and was now done with him. All she remained focused on was creating a show, to see how far she could take it before anyone came in to stop her, how much she could poke until something snapped, how much she could bend until something broke. “Just one slip of the hand and you’re left with your dick only halfway wet in a pile of dust.”

He didn’t know if she knew how correct her imagery was, he guessed she didn’t, he wanted to believe she’d show a bit more restraint then, a bit more unease, more respect. She acted as though she wasn’t trapped in a box with a notorious villain, seemingly unaware of her own stature as well as his. She was nothing but a school-girl and yet she felt comfortable enough in her safety to be lying on her back, flinging insult at the person she was locked in with.

“I don’t see how it could bother you for too long though.” Again, she had him intrigued. “I mean… pretty stupid bitches who’re only worth one fuck anyway can’t really be counted as a loss, can it?”

It was clear she didn’t view herself as one of said pretty stupid bitches, even though a pretty stupid bitch is exactly what she looked like in Shigaraki’s eyes. Perhaps that was her point exactly.

“Have you ever dusted someone who did count as a loss?” She rolled over, head propped up on her elbows, laying in her palms, her feet kicking the air behind her. “You ever fuck up so bad? Committed an irredeemable act? Something so unforgivable even you can’t forgive yourself?” Her eyes were set on him again now. “Do you think about it every day?” Her tone shifted then, to something sadistically sweet. “Does it hurt just as much now as it did then?” Her face split into a grin, eyes ablaze as she observed, searched for a breach in his composure. “What happened to mommy and daddy, Shiggy.” She singsonged, toying with him. “Were they your first victims? Did you cry? Do you still cry? Or did they deserve it?”

Her look was earnest, salacious until she rolled her eyes in boredom at his lack of response.

Sighing, she calmed back down, briefly. “I get it… You don’t want to play with me ‘cause you don’t think I’m a worthy player.” She scoffed as she looked to the side with a melodramatic drag. “You should check yourself. We keep you in a cage, give you food, have you on a leash and collar. You’re nothing but our pet!”

She giggled again, biting her tongue, gnawing on it between the rows of her teeth with her mouth open in a wide smile.

“You know… My quirk is called immunity, but it should really be called repellent.” She looked at her hands then, now kneeling in front of him. Her gaze split like lightning, snapping to look at him again, a catlike smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth. “You and I aren’t that different, are we?” It looked for a second as though she were about to stand up, but the movement fell short as she instead gave way to crawl closer to him, one elegant arm followed by the other, all with the grace of a huntress, a panther easing in for the kill. “In fact… I think I’d go as far and say we’re the exact same…” His eyes didn’t deceive him, this time she did lick her lips, only now her words weren’t dripping with venom, but with some other sickly-sweet nectar. “’Cause…where I never let anyone come close, you let ‘em come close… only for them to die!”

“That’s enough.” He must have closed his eyes the second he felt her breath fan over his face, because he’d missed the time the erasure hero had walked in. “This was a waste of time.” The dark-haired man groaned, disappointed.

“Aw, really?”

She wasn’t in front of him anymore, to his surprising disappointment, though her sweet smell still lingered about him pleasantly.

“And I was just getting to the fun part…” She walked to the threshold of the cell-door, not once indicating she’d turn around and take one final look at him. “Well, anyway… tootles, pet.”

Even as she insulted him, she did it twice over by not returning his gaze.

She was still sleeping, she noted as her mind, though still groggy and drowsed out, became lucid enough to start thinking. She was sleeping, yet the sleep felt unsafe, as though her alarm was bound to go off any second, firmly shaking her awake and telling her time was running out for her to get to school. And if she’d slept through the alarm, a teacher was soon to come fetch her. Yet, for now she remained halfway asleep, waiting for an alarm or a knock on the door unknowing of how it would never arrive.

He wasn’t sure if it was the drug that had perhaps made some of her senses dull under the impression, for… surely she should feel that her mouth was stuffed full and made to suck on a rag, surely she should feel that her wrists were tied together behind her back, and how her thighs and legs were secured together in a frog tie, the rough rope, scratchy in texture, and how it scraped against her soft doughy skin. Perhaps he didn’t tie them tight enough. It was hard to get a good grip without accidentally dusting the ropes, but he knew the struggle was worth it, seeing her now, in all her defenseless vulnerable rightful glory.

“Not so tough now…” He taunted at her small sleeping frame. Even with her clothes still on, he knew her naked body was only a mere touch away from him. How he could spread her open without her being able to kick, only wiggle for him, like a worm on a hook. No… that imagery is too ugly to be describing her, when she’s so far from ugly. She’s more like a butterfly trapped on a pin, wings fluttering hopelessly, reduced to nothing but beauty, nothing but a little doll for him to play with, tamper and poke fun at just like how she’d done back when he was captured at UA.

He decided pro putting the blindfold on her, perhaps the product of her bullying him in the cell, her jabs at his appearance subconsciously having gotten to him despite himself wanting to dust them off like he did with everything else. Her comments were sharp, and seemed to have the same type of immunity her body had, where his ego, much like himself, hadn’t the thickest of skin. Besides, she was… so painfully out of his league.

It hardly mattered though, now that he would regain all the control.

She laid on her stomach, face mushed against the mattress. He’d removed the pillows and comforter so she’d be placed like a centerpiece on his little operating table. She looked so harmless now, so sweet, especially tied up the way she was, and with those whimpering moans that were simmering to the surface, breaching her sleep, escorted by her wiggling, her delicious tempting little wiggling, begging for Shigaraki to come introduce himself, now with the turned tables.

“Did you really think I was just gonna let it slide?” Her wiggles came to an abrupt holt, breath caught in her throat, making her choke out a curt gasp through the thickness of her makeshift gag. “Did you think you were safe? Like you were simply spitting on a grave. No ghosts coming to haunt you.” She panicked once she felt the bed dip, four fingers sharp in their venture, sweeping up her back, settling around her neck, drawing out painful sudden studded goosebumps, spreading across her skin like wildfire in a field. “Silly little slut.” She squealed at the feel of his warm breath on her cheek, unable to move away, her head halfway buried in the soft mattress, teeth sinking into the cloth in her mouth when his tongue, wet with drool, large and flat, dragged up her already teary cheek. “Boo.”

Her ears were burning, so much blood gushing and rushing and pooling in her head like a storm, she barely registered him drawing back with that maniacal giggle, where with as trademark as it were, there was no doubt where she was or who she was with. Yet, she hadn’t the time to think about it, she hadn’t the time to regret or answer questions she hadn’t even the time to ask, because as her mind was cooking up chaotic whirlwinds of fear, crippling fear despite being crippled enough already, brutal fear that her gut feeling like acid festering and mind reeling in on itself in such vehemence she felt she might just faint, give out like a light in a blizzard, she was given no time before he was talking again, pushing her even further out on the edge she found herself, stepping on her fingers one by one, with no mercy as she dangled above jagged rock that were sure to spear her like an arrow through a dove.

“You were wrong, you know.” She felt his hands trace a careful set of four fingers down the fabric of her shirt, rubbing into her spine, further pushing the breath from out of her lungs. “I’ve fucked before.” He spoke casually, though peppered in between the notes of nonchalance was found the spiked flavors of spiteful mockery, like the mean girl on campus, like how she usually talks, like how she had spoken to him. “But, what I haven’t done is played with someone’s body the way I’m gonna play with yours.” He listened to her whimper, sobs surely to soon wrack through her body, uncontrollably and thoroughly, making her gasp and choke on nothing but air and fear. “I mean, it’s only fair.” She heard the shrug in his voice, that sarcastic sigh and lightheartedness. “You fuck with me, I fuck with you.” This time he growled and she swore she would piss herself with how scared she was.

He was going to kill her, she knew it, she could feel it crawling up and down her body as though mites were hidden in her clothes. She already sensed him peeling off her skin, flaying her with her screaming. And in those seconds, those hopeless seconds, she wished for death, for it to be quick, painless, like simply snuffing out a light. She nearly prayed, squeezing her eyes shut to pray to that God or Devil she never believed in, never needed as badly as she needed them now. She wished for her heart to give out, for the right vein to pop, for a lung to collapse, anything, just for her to be dead before he had the mind to torture her to death.

“Does that sound fun, pet.” And there she broke, waterworks in full effect, no longer simple silent tears but something that had built under pressure like boiling pot of water, bubbling, soon to be blubbering incoherent sobs out into her gag, all to his vengeful amusement.

He watched her for a moment, one longer than he’d probably intended, despite not having view of her eyes, watching the blindfold wet as her eyes leaked at the complete overwhelming loss of hope, lips sucking on the gag those tears that managed to escape and run down to salt her lips.

“So pretty, aren’t you?” He accused, giving her barefoot a squeeze, making her wiggle with what mobility the bonds allowed her, looking handicapped, as though he’d disintegrated both her arms and legs when he’d simply tied them up where they would be stored safely and out of the way until he deemed it okay for her to use them again, where until then… she’d remain his little immobile toy. “Pretty little girl, all tied up.” He giggled, both amused and pleased, leaning down to tug those locks of hair that had curtained her face behind her ear, making the thin wisps at the back of her neck bristle in alarm. “All alone with the big bad ugly villain.” He bit it out with a smirk, and she swore she felt venom drop where he spit the words on her face. “Pretty girl… dressed in such pretty things.” He mused, tugging on the fabric of her silk pajama shirt, his other hand stroking a thumb over himself and his caged member, the beast behind the boxer, the one she was still so completely unaware of. “To hide her rotten core.”

He snickered some more at the notice of how ticklish she was, or perhaps it wasn’t as much a reflex but rather a violent display of her fear, how she kicked, or tried to kick her legs, once his hand with its lanky slender fingers danced a pattern on the sole of her foot.

“They won’t be of much help to you now…”

It’s was a cute display, seeing her struggle in an attempt to swat away his spidering hand, endearing, had him drooling he realized, but didn’t bother to wipe his chin, instead giving into the urge he had to touch what was so temptingly sprawled out before him.

“I bet you think of these as your armor, don’t you?”

All five of his fingers touched down on her shirt, and soon there was no shirt left to separate his dry course fingers from her warm skin. He nearly let out a gasp as he watched how she stayed in place, having not become a pyramid of ash. Her beautiful body still right there, warm glowing skin still touchable, more touchable than anything else.

“Keeping you safe from prying eyes and hands… Not my hands though.”

He could excuse how he hesitated on the fact of him wanting to enjoy himself, wretchedly and thoroughly, gorging in every moment he was gonna make her scream, but… he knew that wasn’t the reason… he was… and he hated to admit it, but… nervous. He had this gorgeous creature trapped and under his thumb and he was nervous? No matter how terrified she was and immobilized it was like she still had the power, just like she had in that prison cell.

Perhaps it was due to the fact that he’d thought about her everyday he was trapped in there. She had said she would see him later yet she never once, not once, came a second time. Why would she lie? Just to fuck with him some more? One last and lasting punch in the face? He had dreamed of it. How many times had he fantasized about doing every possible nasty thing in the book to her, teach her a lesson, make her beg, make her kneel, make her bow before him? But now, having her right there, this frail little girl who wouldn’t have the strength to fight him even without the tight rope holding her down, this little girl who despite being just that had him enthralled for months, still just as hellbent, enslaved, spellbound to make her pay… but that wasn’t it either… making her pay was only half of it, maybe even less… what he wanted, what he truly wanted, was to prove to her that he could have her wrapped around his finger despite being what ugly freak she’d made him out to be, that despite being ugly, he could have a pretty-girl like her melting.

He gave fully into his wishes then, her shorts gone with a touch, leaving her in a precious pair of cotton boxers. A sigh of reverence left him, a shudder running through him. He was expecting red lace or something exotic, something vain and narcissistic meant to enhance or simply show off just how pretty she was. He figured that was what she’d dress in, something sexy, because she had the full body that one believes go hand in hand with hot lingerie, yet… she’d chosen comfort. And why wouldn’t she? When she could make it look like the hottest item his eyes ever had the privilege of seeing.

“Fuck…” He drawled, now with a wanton whine, his hand giving himself a squeeze as his cock was beginning to strain uncomfortably inside the confines of his boxers. “Just look at you…”

He only barely dared touch her, not just out of fear of her disappearing like anything else would, but because he didn’t at all feel as though he had the right to put his hands on something so beautiful.

“You shouldn’t be allowed to wear clothes.” He stated, still in awe. “Not when they cover up this perfect body.”

She screamed into her gag as he grabbed around her waist, pulling her pliable little body up into a kneeling position, then pulling and arranging some further to have her in the same position, just over his slap this time, with his bulging cock rubbing through the fabric of his briefs up into her still clothed sex, though with both cloths a thin material she felt the abrasive ticklish friction begin to stir something in her lower abdomen despite her fear and no regard to her disgust. And now, provided with the full view of her delectable little frame, her precious tits sprung free and strutting towards him with how her arms were bent in their confinement behind her back, and perky by both the cold wind of his breath and the goosebump-giving anxiety, leveled with his face, looking eager to receive his mouth, perfect nipples for him to suck on, gnaw between the rows of his teeth.

“These perfect tits…” He licked his lips, hands kneading one mound greedily as the other held her steady. “And this…” He placed all five fingers on the fabric of her panties, turning them to ash, all five staying to touch the delicate skin of her sex, feeling her quake, such a good replacement to feeling someone disintegrate. He groaned out a curse, body sagging, slouching at the sight of her exposed bare little private, he hunched over in awe as he ran his fingers through to disappear in the slit of her precious pussy. “This perfect little pussy.”

She wiggled on his digits with a squealing whimpering sob, so alive and warm and soft he could cry with how safe he was beginning to feel, without the fear of touching just a bit too much getting in the way. Although he was feeling the slight sensation of inferiority in the light of her perfection, or maybe even because of it, he decided he’d give a little scare, perhaps as a means of tipping or evening the scales.

“You know, pretty girl…” His other hand, the one not currently preoccupied with cupping her pussy, brutally brazen for the first time, spread its fingers to stroke the dome of her ass, before curling like claws to grab a fist-full of the ample flesh, making her jump and lose balance, resulting in falling flush against his chest all with a muffled cry. Her face mushed against his collar, her wet reddened nose painting tears onto his throat, such a strange type of comfort against his scars. “I’ve never slapped anyone?” He could feel her heartbeat and how it hammered like a race-horse on the track. “Or, no, I’ve slapped plenty, but a slap from me means death, usually.” His hand ascended, wrapping around her throat, all five fingers with hungry-pressured fingertips, guiding her back off his chest to sit properly, though leaning to bite her earlobe, all to feel her rub down on his aching cock some more. “But I slap you and it means pretty marks and pretty screams, doesn’t it?”

He laughed, knowing full well that he wasn’t going to hurt her, or at least not as badly as he had given reason to think.

“Such a fucking pretty girl, aren’t you?” He trailed a path of wet open-mouthed kisses down her neck and between her breasts, gripping her waist as she recoiled back. “With pretty tits.” Breath labored, or hefty with greed and desire. “Pretty girl with a pretty pussy.” He squeezed her sides, as though getting ready to make a ragdoll of her again, pulling her into the desired position. “Let me taste you.”

Her heart hammered like a hammer hitting an anvil, as she was placed on her back, hands crushed beneath her, uncomfortably wrenching in their bonds. Her mind, stuck in its prospect, hadn’t pieced it together, despite having been stripped naked, she still hadn’t given it a thought, hadn’t dared give it a thought, but his comment made the realization coat thickly, drape her and the pressure seemed too much for her mind to take, plummeting into a free-fall. He wasn’t just going to kill her, he was going to rape her first.

Thighs easily pried open for him to settle in between, scooting back on the bed so he could lie down, lower half humping the mattress desperately, imagining having her wrapped around him, but all in good time. She shook more than writhed, seizurely beneath him, with her blushed pussy a beautiful slit so ripe for the taking, quivering at the warming breath he whispered upon the tender flesh. With his hands wrapped around each their ankle he pushed her thighs and legs up and out of the way as to not have her knee him in the head while he feasted.

He listened to her struggling to breathe, her stomach rising and falling sporadically with her sobs, untuned and painful and begging for any kindness he had to spare, he was going to give her exactly that. Kindness.

His chapped lips felt so good it was cruel, abrasive and inescapably delicious, welcomed yet unwelcome by the bucking of her hips as she squealed into her gag, falling prey to more and more hopelessness. His tongue came second, warm and wet and long and strong, sliding in between her folds only to swipe up and flick off at her clit, forcing a shudder to run all the way through her core into the tips of her toes, mind reeling.

“So cute.” He noted the sensitivity with a mocking jeer, the sound simmering on her skin. “I bet a pretty girl like you’ve never been fucked by a guy like me before.” Then his teeth were the ones to make an impact, grazing over her budding clit with how it reached out in search for stimulation, having its wish granted in such a sense forcing her toes to curl. “Come on my ugly face, pretty-girl.” She really couldn’t resist with how his words were tickling on that sensitive spot, and how intent on finding and following that spot that had her coming on done and abusing it, playing with it with his tongue and chapped lips, switching between such smooth soft yet forceful pressure and bristled rough chaffed contact, making her spasm, wanting so desperately to tug her arms loose to push his incessant face off, because she wouldn’t be able to resist it, she was going to come and make an humiliating mess on his tongue just like he wanted, the knot was going to snap and she would be screaming from the force of it.

He smirked with the taste of her essence on his tongue, giving her a couple more torturous kitty-licks that had her brutally recoiling by the oversensitivity he was abusing. It served well as an ego-boost as he was suddenly feeling the urge to take her blindfold off, make her gaze upon who had her wrapped around his finger. What more, he wanted to remove her gag, hear what she had to say to defend herself, what pathetic please she would come with to try and prevent him from going any further.

His mouth sloshed its way up her stomach, hands touching and grabbing and groping with greedy fingers onto anything and everything they got ahold of, feeling up her smooth skin and soft flesh, before having made their way to grab at the blindfold. Her eyes were petrified, blinking rapidly, especially every time his clothed cock bumped into her bare pussy, leaving strings of spit and fine silken cum to hang from between where she parted with the cotton of his pants.

She was thoroughly out of it, delirious, fear-ridden and numbed with pleasure, cotton yet swivel-eyed as he fought to be her focus. He pulled the gag out of her mouth too, wiping his chin before turning the fabric to ash, eyes looking her over all the while.

His tongue rolled over his lips. “Such a pretty face.” He gathered her face between his fingers, blunt fingertips pushing into squishy bloated cheeks. “Even prettier with those tears you fucking crybaby.” It will never get old, the feeling of nothing happening still under all his five fingers. “Even better with my handprint, don’t you think?” It was funny how she didn’t seem to pick up anything of what he was saying. “Or covered in my cum.” Her brows had scrunched so hopelessly close together, whimpers upon sniffles and whiny mewling and hiccupping panting, so pathetic and precious. “So fucking pretty.” He groaned, giving his lips a second wetting with his tongue. “Kiss me, pretty-girl.” He scrunched her lips together some more, leaving her incapable of refusing.

She tasted herself on his tongue, choking on the sweetness as he forced it like a slug down her throat. Her own tongue submissive in nature, staying beneath and out of the way of his. It was a series varying from needy whimpering moans and growls that followed from his throat, poured into her receiving mouth, giving nothing but weak whines in return. His one free hand, the other one still holding a firm grip onto her chin and cheeks, continued in its hungry exploration, grabbing with an almost childlike curious freedom, leaving painful marks in their wake, having her yelp against his willful lips, which smirk grew upon every inch of reaction she fed him, until pulling away in a haze, panting, with a new little wish he was going to have her be the star of.

“Let me fuck that pretty face.”

She hadn’t the time, nor the mind, to form any protest, reduced to mere whimpering as he pulled her back into a kneeling position, conjoined thighs and legs folded beneath and supporting her ass, still with her arms tied snuggly and unbudgingly behind her back, made to watch him fiddle with the band to his sweats, pulling them below his hips and falling to his thighs, displaying his surprisingly clean boxers and not so surprising hardness. Cock throbbing within its confines, fighting desperately to come free. His hand pulling his boxers down and, cock springing loose, slapping against his abdomen, standing long and hard, tip blushed red and angry, a bead of pre-cum spilling sweetly from his slit.

“Open up, lick it up.”

She’d been lost in taking in the sheer size of him, girth thick and threatening, looking bigger than what she could wrap her hand around, her stomach twisting in tension and unease. Too caught up in imagine it ripping her apart than realizing how he was going to fit it into her mouth first.

Her eyes widened upon the thought, lips slightly apart in horror, bottom-lip quivering. “Come on, pretty-girl.” One hand tugged on his shaft, the other gripped her face, protruding nails to sink into her jaw, prying her mouth father apart to accommodate his size.

She whined at the taste of him, arms struggling behind her back, knees shuffling wider apart to support herself as he pushed on further, fingernails still digging into her soft cheeks, making her lips pucker into a soft welcoming oval. He liked the way her brows furrowed into that beautiful look of plead that had his balls aching where they hung, soon to be pressed up against her soft skin, smothering her chin. He also enjoyed how her whimpers had turned to delicious little vibrations of his cock, drumming alongside his length, such pretty friction.

“Come on, take all of me.” He licked his lips as he urged, other hand coming to caress the back of her skull, gathering her pretty locks between his fingers, abandoning all regard to how she should be turning to nothing but dust molecules instead of being a nice warm soft wet pleasure hole for him. His usually small scrutinizing scarlet eyes turning moon-wide with lustful frenzy. Voice ragged as he clawed at her scalp to obey him, no thought to her whining in protest. “You can do better.” His tip met with the back of her throat and her whine turned more desperate, nearly a scream, but he couldn’t care, not with the memory of her talking to him like he was some pussy-bitch, he was going to show her who the bitch and who the boss was. “Such a pretty little thing with such a nasty filthy ugly fucking mouth.” He spit through grit teeth, begging to fuck the back of her throat, having her gagging on him, hopeless in search for breath. “A mouth like that is only good for one thing.” He gave a few more painfully deep ruts, having her eyes roll back at the loss of breath, before ripping loose again. “Same goes for that pussy.”

“No, no.” She scrambled on the bed, trying to get away, trying to rip free, so hopeless he should have felt bad, but couldn’t bring himself to the feeling as he sat there and laughed, eyes wild, dick prospering, hand pumping his length to the sight of her.

He followed her pathetic struggling little shame, climbing on top of her. The panic swallowed her again, forcing a overwhelmed rush of sobs to come spluttering and blubbering and screaming from her little shape caught beneath him. “Such a little slut.” His fingers were at once groping her pussy, diving between her folds to rub her slit and clit. “Still so wet, are you excited?” She turned her head away as she struggled, eyes squeezed shut. “Aw, pretending it’s not me.” He snickered. “Good luck.”

Offended, he decided against making it pleasant for her, thinking she deserved as little sympathy from him as she had showed him, but his brutal actions slowed at the feel of the pressure around his finger when he’d pushed it inside her.

“So tight.” He stated, shocked as he tried swirling the digit inside, to feel the walls giving little wiggle-room to do so. She winced as he hooked, a heavy breathy shrill type of wince, as though he was pulling a knife from her gut.

He left the finger there, much to her discomfort.

“That comment…” He started, working her tightness as much as he could, still with only one finger. “When we first met.” His other hand gathered her face again, forcing her to look at him as he leaned down, resting his forehead on hers, wanting to see those eyes as he got confirmation on his suspicion. “You said you push people away… that you were a… repellant.” Her breathing hitched as she sniveled like a little girl who scraped her knee. “Did that count for this as well?”

He hadn’t yet let the smile stretch on his face, but the chiding smirk started to grow as the answer was clearly displayed all over her face and by the telltale feeling his finger shoved inside her way too tight hole told him.

“Aww, is the pretty little girl a virgin?” He gave her no inch of regret, even with the fact clear as day. Having worked her tightness well enough to cram another bony-knuckled finger inside her, making her cry out. “Don’t worry, that pretty pussy is in good hands.”

She owed him, this way they would be even. Besides, he wasn’t making it completely miserable for her either. Her face might be telling one story of torment, but her drooling pussy was telling him something utterly different. Perhaps it was due to her amateur ability to hold on, but she was soon creaming all over his fingers, body spasming in tired bliss, eyes fluttering for a moment or two, trying to grasp what the fuck was happening. It was adorable.

“I think my little slut is ready.”

She murmured a sigh, energy spent on crying and struggling and coming twice already, all she could do was moan when his cockhead broke through her tight little weeping hole. He had to moan as well at the snug hug her pussy squeezed and seized him with, biting roughly into his bottom lip, tooth snaggling in the dip of his scar. Brows raised in bliss, scrunched in an eruption, as he sunk deeper and deeper into her tight convulsing cunt, preciously clutching around him, fluttering upon the fulfilling snug fit that had her toes cramping in their curled state, eyes zoning out, unable to focus, mouth blubbering and chewing on incoherent sentences, only capable on slurring out muddled moans and wet gasps as he fucked slowly into, lolling his hips forward carefully, holding onto the mouthwatering feeling of her warmth around him.

He pushed his thumb into her clit, which had her back arching and moan ripped from her throat before she settled down into the mattress again, welcoming the stimulation where she was crippled to preventit. “Your pretty pussy loves being taken by my disgusting cock, doesn’t it?” She could only hum and croon in reply, as he hit the very back, pushing into her cervix with a rather soft nudge, having her result to sucking on her bottom-lip, purring whines like a little kitten taking pleasure from their master. “I hear it in your pretty moans.”

He was no longer biting out the word pretty as though it were a curse or venom on his tongue. It sounded more like praise than anything, something akin to awe, pride even, smug for having it all under his thumb, burying his cock inside the word, for being the one to have reduced such a pretty thing to such a pretty mess, all for him, all by him, making her all his.

She made a shuddering gasp, moaning into his mouth as he leaned down. “Oh, is the pretty girl gonna cum all over my disgusting cock.” He cooed, all five fingers placed on her cheek when cupping it to have those gorgeous opium-blown eyes look at him when she came undone, for him to find such dangerous satisfaction in seeing her conquered beneath him, finding it to be the last push to send him off his own edge as well. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum in that pretty pussy.”

He made to have that final bone-crushing kiss, faces mushed together in a sloppy mess of wet slippery tongues and drool, moaning and groaning, inhaling each-other.

Reduced to mere gasping and panting. Cock, having for the first time felt the fulfilling pleasure of blowing inside the warm comfort of a precious goddess, feeling her gush and come all over him in the near split-second, feeling her clench and tighten around him like a vice, robbing and ringing and milking him for every drop he was worth. He gave some more pumps, pushing deep within her, felt a shudder run down the underside of his cock, overstimulated and satisfied for the first time.

Still coming down from his high, he made to take in her shape and state.

He hadn’t really fantasized she’d be so pliant after being fucked, but looking at her now, he couldn’t imagine her any other way, anything more right then her glossy sweat-slicked body spasming in aftershocks of her orgasms, laid so preciously snug against his chest, thighs visibly shaking with still small feeble stuttering moans slipping from her lips in blubbers. He wasn’t too far from the same state himself, having had only barely the mind before exhaustion rendered his limbs too heavy for moving, to untie the knots and rearrange them into something more comfortable. He decided tying her wrists together in front of her to be better, legs free but too tired and dumbed-out to struggle.

He looked at her drowsy state with a smile, betting he could make such a grateful little pet out of her, and if not, then scramble her mind through so many cruel methods, and make do with a brainless toy instead. But, looking down at that blissed-out hopeless look on her face and that dainty defenseless body he’d manipulated and forced to its knees, he couldn’t really see how any cruel methods would be needed.

It seemed to him that all she needed was cock, a couple of orgasms forced from her pent-up body, a little relief. The little brat was just a bit grouchy and grumpy because she hadn’t had her pussy played with. He could relate, he also gets frustrated when not getting his dick wet for a while. She was just begging for someone to come handle her and that’s all there was to it. Just look at her now, so sweet and spent, lying in his arms.

Come to think of it, he knew for a fact that he wouldn’t be needing to apply any harsh treatments in taming her, she just needed to be tied up and made to feel just how good being taken care of feels until she accepted it willingly. And if and when she decides on being bratty, he’ll have plenty of methods of shutting that trap right up, or in making her scream.

TIP-JAR

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1kook · 4 years ago

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commercial break ; EIGHT

this is part of my netflix & chill series! takes place a little after part 7 :)

SUMMARY You always do this— always ask for more. You take and you take until there’s nothing left for Jungkook to give. But Jungkook is the same. WARNINGS unprotected sex, nipple clamps, overstimulation, pretty pet names for jk, oc is so fckin horNEE, both have a high sex drive, oc is obsessed with the koobies MISC flashbacks to jk’s ex gf yes you read right!, there’s backstory yuck, taehyung the bestie, jk is just so happy where he is now <3 RATING m (18+) WC 1.9k

NOTES finally after six months..... we get a glimpse of jk’s life pre-netflix n chill 🥶 also i just rlly wanted to write jk wearing the nipple clamps hehe

Taehyung had warned him about this.

“As hard as it is to believe,” he had said one night during their first year of university, haphazardly parked outside of a Wendy’s at three in the morning. Jungkook was trying to finish an assignment— early, always early —when he had been abruptly hauled to fulfill Taehyung’s spicy chicken sandwich craving. “Girls are hornier than guys.”

Jungkook remembers it so clearly.

He had chuckled, had harbored this feeling of contentment, of belonging, with his best friend beside him, talking about the most mundane things. “No way,” he had said. He had only broken up with Haerim last month; his first girlfriend, his first heartbreak, all in his first year of college. So he wasn’t particularly bothered with women at the moment, and he probably wouldn’t be for a long time. He quite liked this life of solitude, the peaceful waves brought upon by the comfort of being alone, the occasional break in the water when Taehyung or Namjoon checked in on him.

Taehyung, on the other hand, had always been concerned with women. A furious nod, huge eyes. “Dude, I swear,” he had exclaimed, and then had launched into a full feature recapture of how horny his then-girlfriend always was. Jungkook had simply listened— it’s what he does best —and nodded along when Taehyung continued his silly ramblings.

He can still remember his thought process.

Of course girls are horny. But Jungkook doubts they’re as horny as him or any of the guys he knew. Speaking for himself, Jungkook knows his sex drive is too high; too high for someone who’s only lost his virginity earlier that year.

Haerim had once told him he asked for too much. And Jungkook understood, really; she was his first, and maybe he got a little too excited in his conquest to try everything, a conquest she wasn’t too keen on joining. “Do you even like me?” she had asked the night they broke up. “Or do you just want to have sex?”

Both, he remembers thinking, but that thought had felt like the wrong answer to give her. Her words had made him squirm, had made him feel so small. Was he asking her for too much? Was Jungkook too much— a handful for her to deal with? Jungkook’s love language had always been physical touch. He thought she understood that.

They parted ways in the most mature way possible. A simple break-up, no hard feelings. Jungkook felt terrible. He had pushed her too far, had asked for too much. They aren’t as horny as guys, he remembers thinking. Or at least, not as horny as Jungkook.

In the end, Jungkook remembers politely disagreeing with Taehyung on the matter.

Until now, nearly four years later, with your hands circling his bare waist.

He’d just finished nailing you into the mattress not even ten minutes ago, had fucked his cock into you until you were screaming so loud your neighbor had banged on your shared wall. Your lips are soft against his shoulder, the prettiest little giggle slipping past them. It’s pitch black outside, your room enveloped in shadows, but the warmth you press against his back is akin to that of the sun’s; Jungkook can’t think of a more fitting comparison. “I was thinking,” you purr, voice like warm honey down his throat. It makes him melt, has his eyes fluttering shut as your hands trace feathery lines against the waistband of his boxers.

“That’s not good,” he manages to murmur, trapping your hand over his belly button. You make this sound, something between a satisfied hum and a moan; Jungkook wants nothing more than to spread your legs far apart and lick you down the middle. You shuffle closer behind him. He can feel your tits against his back, the hardened nub of your nipples.

But it appears Jungkook isn’t the only one interested in nipples tonight.

“The clamps,” you whisper, voice nearly lost under the thrum of the air conditioning, the steady beat of his heart in his chest.

And in that moment, Jungkook truly understands what Taehyung had meant that night.

They sting, terribly so, make him feel like someone is going to rip his nipples out of his chest at any moment. But at the same time, they make his toes curl, make Jungkook grind his teeth together in a feeble attempt to dismiss the pleasure.

On top of that, the look on your face when Jungkook leans over you, the thin metal chain of the nipple clamps touching your chin, is enough to fuel his solo sessions for years to come. “Oh,” you gasp, trembling hand reaching up for the glittering chain.

Jungkook hisses at the tug, accidentally bucks forward into the warm cradle between your legs. It makes you whimper, hand on his shoulder, the other holding onto the cruel device on his chest. “Fuck,” he bites, brows furrowed together as he glares down at you.

“S- So pretty,” you slur, delirious. Jungkook’s not even inside of you, just has his cock resting on your hip. He thinks there might be a droplet of drool clinging to your lips. “Jungkook,” you breathe, finally lifting the other hand to his chest, thumb caressing the pretty gold clamp that is squeezing the life out of his nipple. It feels so good, and Jungkook is so embarrassed.

You let him in soon enough, eyes trained on his flushed chest as he sinks into you. You’re still so loose, so wet and tender from the fucking he gave you earlier, from the two orgasms from before. He can’t comprehend how you’re still asking for more, capable of more, after he had spit in your mouth, bent you like a pretzel, and all but consumed your entire being in his earlier lust.

He reaches the hilt and you tug at Jungkook’s clamps, make his chest jerk forward in surprise. “Fuck!” he chokes, hand on the back of your thigh around him. “Don’t f- fucking do that,” he begs, but it feels so good and you’re so entranced, he hardly thinks you hear him.

It’s like you’re stuck in a daze, tiny mouth opening to release the sweetest little moans, eyes scarily trained on his chest. It’s like you don’t see him, don’t see Jungkook right before you, and for some reason… he adores the feeling. “Look at me,” he whispers, testing the waters.

You spare him a glance, a supportive smile, and then it’s back to staring at his nipples.

It makes Jungkook awfully hard.

In a weird, roundabout sort of way, it’s like he’s being used. Like he’s nothing but a pawn in your lustful schemes, just a visual stimulus to help get you off; in short, it’s a teensy bit degrading. Dismissive. Whatever you want to call it.

His dick twitches at the thought.

And, like always, you’re in perfect step with him. Another tug at the chain, another moan torn from his lips. “So pretty for me,” you croon. It’s his line, you know it’s always been his line. Jungkook pushes deeper into you, but aside from a sinful cry, it doesn’t deter you. A wicked grin crosses your features, hand crawling around his neck to tangle in his locks again. “Tits all pink,” you shiver, tapping the pad of a finger against his nipple. Jungkook’s eyes roll to the back of his head, bucks forward suddenly.

“N- Not pretty,” he growls, pushing you down deeper against the sheets, like maybe they’ll swallow you up and he’ll be saved from your lewd ways. “You’re pretty.”

You chuckle, and then contradict the sweet tone of your voice with a harsh tug against his clamps. Jungkook all but howls, pistons into you until he feels your cervix kiss his tip, call him forward, practically beg for him to fill you whole. “Prettiest boy,” you whimper, tracing his swollen nipple with your finger as if it’ll soothe the prickling sensations that shoot down his spine, makes him rut deeper into you.

Jungkook wants to cum so badly, wants to spill his seed down your insides until it paints every wall, kisses every inch, until it’s physically impossible for you to not be pregnant.

But the worst thing is, Jungkook is so terribly spent from the early events of that night, that the mere thought of coming again sounds like it would be painful. Of course, Jungkook immediately realizes the hypocrisy in his statement— he frequently makes you come various times in one night, sometimes in the span of a few minutes —but he never thought he’d be on the receiving end of this— this— overstimulation.

Your walls squeeze around him, your fingers playfully tugging at the chain in intervals until Jungkook’s back arches forward, hips grinding against your quivering opening. “Cum inside,” you pant, curling one finger around the wretched contraption that seems intent on killing him slowly. He groans, hips snapping at your offer. He wants to so badly, but his toes curl, stomach tightens almost ominously. “Maybe if you do it a second time I’ll get p—“

“Shut up,” he begs, gasping for breath. You manage to laugh through a moan, harshly yanking your fist towards you in a motion that nearly has him crashing down on top of you. “I can’t—“ he shudders, forearms trembling.

“You can,” you encourage, ankles locking together at the base of his spine. His every being feels overwhelmed, head like TV static. His dick throbs, practically begs for another orgasm that Jungkook fears will tear him apart, leave him a boneless pile of limbs for days. And his chest— “look, Jungkook,” you purr, pinching the already tortured nub between your fingers, “look at your fucking tits” —feels like heaven.

It only takes a few more rushed thrusts, your stuttering moans like music to his ears, and a particularly brutal pull of the clamps on his chest, before Jungkook is bursting. And it’s painful, just as he thought, makes him release the most airy, fluttery whine. It’s so embarrassing, and frankly surprising, how high his voice can get, but it makes you beam beneath him. “Oh, such a good boy,” you coo, catching him in your arms when he slumps forward, chest against yours.

He’s as boneless as he predicted, jaw twitching as he tries to gather himself into an acceptable state again. “Fuck you,” he groans, hips jerking with the after shocks of such a stimulated orgasm.

You laugh, carding your hands through his hair. “You were made to wear cute things like that,” you mumble, lips pressed against his temple.

Before he can speak (not that he knows what he’d say), you’re tugging him back by his hair, looking like you’ll eat him alive. He wants you to. “The cuffs,” you murmur, nose knocking against his. “Let’s try those on you next.”

You always do this— always ask for more. You take and you take until there’s nothing left for Jungkook to give.

But Jungkook is the same. You match him so well, fill the gaps when he’s too shy, lay yourself out when he needs more.

(“You ask for too much,” Haerim had confessed, staring him down from the doorway of his dormitory. The room had always felt small, but today it feels miniature. Like the walls are closing in on him; he can’t breathe. “I don’t think anyone in this world can keep you satisfied, Jeon Jungkook.”)

Your heel knocks against the back of his thigh, and he is suddenly made aware of the trembling lips of your cunt around his cock, still so wet— still so horny. “Again?” you ask so sweetly, fingers dancing across his back.

Jungkook shivers. “Again.”

#networkbangtan #bangtanhq #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader smut #bts fic #jungkook fic #bts smut #mine

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dontmixpaintinyourcoffee · 4 months ago

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I'm curious about that too! Personally I like the worldbuilding that comes with magical humans being (at least a little bit) not human. It implies that the magic is inherent to their physiology somehow. If someone like Zach had their magic removed- not repressed or made dormant but fully removed- would they even survive that process? Would it be like trying to take someone's blood? How much can you separate magical ability from the body of someone who was born with it? Is it even something separate from the body at all?

At the same time, people like Zach who are able to naturally do things like see ghosts and summon fire being fully human in every way is also very interesting. Because that implies that magic is involved in the biosphere of the material plane. It's not an extraplanar force that sometimes interrupts the barriers between worlds, it's as natural as light or water. Some people are born with sharp eyesight, some have a natural dexterity, some have keen hearing, and some happen to see ghosts. Just one of those random things that may or may not happen depending on a million different factors.

I'm just rambling at this point, but GOD I love magic systems!!!

Mr. (derogatory) The Custodian what do you *mean* the LADZ are "not all human men"? Is Zachery *not* just your run-of-the-mill human man with magical powers? (For real assumed he was just a human dude who had magic powers for whatever reason, as one does in urban fantasy settings). (Also big L on The Custodian for being all (paraphrase) "I would surely know if one of you wasn't human!" and then not long after seeing Zachery's magic meltdown and being. Apparently proven wrong. Cringe and fail old man!!!)

#dandies in danger #dandiesindanger #DinD #i love asking questions that dont actually have answers that matter but theyre fun to think about #also Mr. Custodian (derogatory) made me laugh so hard

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kookiesjoonies · 4 years ago

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first & last | jjk.

↠ main pairing: best friend!jungkook x virgin!reader

↠ fic type: one shot, friends to lovers

↠ genre: smut

↠ word count: 4.2k

↠ warnings: alcohol consumption (they aren’t drunk, just a lil tipsy), explicit language, dry humping, finger sucking, light dirty talk, hand job, cum play

↠ summary: during a game of never have i ever, jungkook finds out that you haven’t had your first kiss yet and decides to show you how it’s done.

a/n: eeeeep! i’m so happy to finally have smth up for jk again bc it’s been awhile n we all know i’m whipped for this man. enjoy! feedback is always appreciated. xo

Drunken sleepovers with your best friend were your favorite. You were lying on the floor of Jungkook’s living room, the world’s thinnest blanket underneath you to act as a barrier between your back and the hard surface of the floor.

He laid to your left, nursing a bottle of cheap beer while you sipped red wine from your glass. When the two of you were buzzed, the urge to play drinking games always hit hard. You were thankful he seemed to enjoy them as much as you did, because you were always able to be your genuine, goofy self around him without fear of being judged.

Tonight’s game of choice was never have I ever— a classic, one that you wish you’d played more. Hearing all of Jungkook’s embarrassing tales always made you laugh to the point of tears, big belly laughs that caused you to wheeze.

“Alright, alright. I’ve got one,” he spoke up, causing you to tilt your head to look over at him, “never have I ever told someone they were a good kisser and didn’t mean it.”

You watched as your friend brought the bottle up to his lips and took a swig, insinuating that he had, in fact, done just that.

When you didn’t drink from your wine glass, his eyebrow cocked and he stared down at you in disbelief.

“Come on, Y/n. Sure you have!”

You shrugged, giving him a quick shake of your head.

“Nope.” Your answer was simple— too simple, which left Jungkook even more intrigued than he was to begin with.

He didn’t believe you, not by a long shot. But he should’ve. Seeing as how you’d never even kissed anyone, let alone lied about whether they were a good kisser.

Being in your twenties and having never been on a real date, or held anyone’s hand (other than your friends’, but of course, that was different), or had your first kiss wasn’t exactly the coolest thing.

You’d wanted to experience such things, but no one that had come into your life so far had been worthy enough.

Except for one person— the man that was currently staring at you with his round, beautiful doe eyes. You wanted to kick your own ass for thinking of Jungkook in such a way. He was your best friend, nothing more. And you weren’t about to ruin all of that and everything that the two of you had because of your feelings.

“So, what? Everyone that you’ve ever kissed has been exceptional?” His tone let you know that he thought you were full of shit.

“Kind of have to be kissed in order to confirm or deny that.” You mumbled, voice barely even audible.

The wine was making you brave, it seemed. You weren’t drunk enough to not realize what you’d said, but you weren’t sober enough to care.

Jungkook noticeably choked on his beer he’d been drinking, bringing the back of his hand up to wipe at the liquid gathering on the corners of his mouth.

“What did you just say?”

You sighed, sitting up and leaning your back to rest against the bottom of the sofa behind you.

“It’s not that big of a deal, Kook.”

“Uhm, yeah it is!” He exclaimed, and your eyes rolled in response.

“No, it isn’t.” You snapped back, wishing the conversation was done and over with already.

“Can I ask why you’ve never been kissed? I mean— has the opportunity never presented itself, or have you just been waiting for the right person or something?”

He wasn’t going to let it go, it seemed. So, you twirled around the red liquid in your cup, staring down at it to avoid eye contact with your best friend. Though, you could feel his chocolate eyes burning into you, and you were sure if you glanced over at him he’d be staring at you with wide eyes.

“I’ve had a few opportunities, but I just… I don’t know? I don’t want just anyone to kiss me. I want it to mean something, to be from someone special.”

You felt your cheeks begin to heat up, and you were internally cursing yourself.

“Plus,” you said, after a few seconds of awkward silence had passed, “I don’t even know how to kiss, so, I’ve always been nervous.”

Without skipping a beat, Jungkook’s voice was filling your ears again.

“I’ll teach you.”

Your eyes shot up to meet his, and you were sure the shock was apparent all over your features. Jungkook, however, seemed oddly calm.

“Uhm, thank you? But we’re best friends, it could make things weird—“

He cut you off with a shake of his head, “Nope, our friendship is solid. A little kiss isn’t going to ruin it.”

You worried at your lower lip, pondering the thought and weighing out the pros and cons.

You’d always dreamed about what his lips would feel like against yours, you were sure he’d be a skilled kisser. The thought of his hands being in your hair while your mouths moved together in heated passion, or better yet, his hands on your ass— yeah, maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea.

Or maybe it was the worst idea. Either way, you were about to find out.

“Okay.” You nodded, setting your nearly empty glass to the side.

“Really?” His eyes widened, and you couldn’t stop yourself from giggling.

“Yeah, but I’d hurry before I change my mind.”

Jungkook didn’t need to be told twice. He’d been hoping and praying that one day this day would come, and now that it finally had, he was determined to give you the best damn kiss of your life.

And it made it even better knowing that he was going to be the first person to ever touch your lips with their own. Maybe he wanted to be the first and the only. No, he definitely wanted to be the first and the only.

“Come here.” He patted his lap, and you quickly caught on.

Maybe straddling your best friend should’ve felt awkward, but this didn’t. This felt… right.

His large hands found their way onto the sides of your face, effectively cupping your cheeks. Your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, and you prayed that he wouldn’t be able to hear how loudly your heart was thumping against your chest.

“Is this okay?” You whispered, referring to the way your arms were resting atop his shoulders.

He nodded, flashing you that gorgeous bunny-like smile of his. Suddenly, you felt a sense of calm. All of your nerves were now replaced with adrenaline and excitement. It was amazing how quickly he was able to calm you down just with one toothy grin.

“Yeah, it’s perfect.” he assured you, rubbing the pads of his thumbs along the apples of your cheeks, “just follow my lead, yeah?”

“Yes, sir.” You teased, and he chuckled.

His eyes fell shut, and so did yours. Before you knew it, and before your brain could completely process what was happening, you were kissing Jeon Jungkook.

Fireworks went off all around you, and you could no longer hear the whirring of the AC, or the sound of the television. All you could hear were his lips smacking against yours, and the way his breath hitched as your fingers pulled at the hair at the nape of his neck.

His lips moved slowly, allowing you to get used to the whole process. He was gentle, and you were thankful for that.

You could savor his taste for the rest of your life, you were sure of it. He tasted heavily of beer mixed with the fried rice you’d shared for dinner. Perhaps it wasn’t the best combination, but it was Jungkook, so none of it mattered. You didn’t want to taste anything, or anyone else, for as long as you lived.

His tongue ran along your lower lip, and you didn’t hesitate to open up your mouth for him. His tongue slid easily inside, twisting and curling around yours as he explored every last crevice— memorizing what seemed to get a reaction out of you.

One particular move of his wet muscle against yours had you keening and moaning into his mouth, and you quickly broke the kiss, bringing your hands up and over your mouth.

“Oh, my god! I’m sorry, Kook, I—“

“Sorry for what?” He was out of breath, and his pupils were blown out.

His hair had become slightly disheveled from the way you’d been tugging at it mindlessly, and his mouth was covered in your red lipstick. He’d never looked hotter, and you were suddenly very aware of the arousal pooling in between your thighs.

“For— for making that noise, I’m—“

His fingers pushed a piece of your hair behind your ear, and his voice was soothing as he spoke.

“Why are you sorry? That was the hottest shit I’ve ever heard in my life.”

His words shocked you, “But we’re best friends! I shouldn’t be… we shouldn’t be—“

For the third time in a matter of minutes, he was cutting off your rambling.

“Friends don’t kiss like that, Y/n.”

“So, are you saying you don’t… want to be friends anymore?”

You feared his answer, ready to run away in a fit of tears if he confirmed your scariest thoughts. You couldn’t lose him, not like this.

“No, I don’t want to be friends,” your eyes began to well up, but he was quick to stop your tears from flowing with his next words, “I want to be more than that. I want to kiss you all the time, take you out on dates, among other things… whenever you’re ready for that. There’s no pressure here, because even if you don’t want this, I’m not going anywhere.”

There he goes with that damn calming smile again, the one that caused your heart to stop, yet was its very reason for beating all the same.

“I’d like that.” You grinned, shuffling your weight above him slightly to make yourself a bit more comfortable.

When he groaned and tossed his head back, you were sure you’d hurt him. But before you could offer him your string of apologies, his hands were falling to your hips to hold you in place.

“Fuck,” he sighed, “do that again. Please.”

You arched a perfectly filled in brow, “What, this?”

Your hips rolled in a similar way that they’d done before, this time with more aim and purpose. And the man below you was making the most sinful, most beautiful sounds you’d ever heard.

His length was hardening underneath you, and your eyes enlarged at the recollection. This definitely wasn’t doing your already seeping pussy any favors.

“I understand if you don’t want to jump into anything sexual right now,” he breathed, heavy and uneven, “but if you don’t, you’re going to have to get off of me because all I want to do right now is grind into you until you’re cumming in your clothes.”

“How did we go from being best friends an hour ago, to doing this?” You couldn’t stop the giggle that made its way through your lips, your hips pushing down and rolling into his once more— letting him know that you had no intentions of stopping.

“I don’t know— Jesus!,” he bit down on his bottom lip as he tightened his grip on your hips and guided their movements, “but I’m so goddamn glad you’re on top of me right now.”

“Me too.” You were quick to agree, hands bracing on his shoulders to hold yourself up.

Both of you were gasping now, reveling in the feeling of your sexes grinding against one another. Every graze of his cock against your clothed clit sent fire through your veins, and your vision was beginning to black out.

You had no idea dry humping could feel this damn good. But you were sure that it had a lot to do with the way Jungkook looked underneath you.

He was completely wrecked and fucked out already, offering you slews of curses and praises every time you came down on his dick just right.

“Fuck, I wanna be inside of you so bad,” you were bouncing against his length with fervor, no intentions of slowing down or stopping until you both reached your highs, “can’t wait to see that pretty little pussy, fill you up with my cum and mark you as mine.”

You moaned at the thought, his filthy words moving you further and further to your desired state of euphoria.

One of his hands gripped tightly on your ass, while the other rested over your clothed core. He looked up at you, silently asking for permission. He knew you’d never done anything like this with anyone before, and he wasn’t about to try and make you do anything that you were uncomfortable with.

“Go ahead,” you gasped, barely having time to register what he was doing until his fingers were circling over your clit.

You were very thankful that you’d decided to wear cloth pajama shorts, and thin ones at that. He could feel everything— and so could you. Your hips bucked up and into his hand as you rode his cock, begging for him to make you cum.

“You’re so fucking soaked, babe. It’s leaking through your shorts.” He smirked at the sight, gathering up a bit of the dampness on the tips of his fingers.

The way he inserted the two digits into his mouth had you crying out, nearly on the verge of tears from the sight alone.

“Wanna taste?” He asked, and you eagerly nodded.

He collected more of your wetness onto his fingertips, and you made a show of sucking on them lewdly once they entered into your mouth.

“Nasty little girl, aren’t you?”

As if to prove his point, you used your own fingers to reach into your panties, gathering your arousal straight from the source.

His was practically salivating, eyes begging for you to let him clean your fingers off with his tongue.

As if reading his mind, you nodded. And he wasted no time before suckling your fingertips into his mouth. He moaned around them, savoring your sweet taste. He wished like hell he could pin you down and clean you up with his tongue, but he knew you weren’t ready for that, and he was respectful.

Still, he was determined to make you cum. He wanted desperately to see what you looked like when you came undone.

“No more games.” He growled, his hands returning to your hips to hold you steady above him.

He fucked up against you, the outline of his cock hitting your sensitive bundle of nerves each time.

Soon, you were crying out and squirming— a poor attempt at trying to get away.

“F-fuck! Oh, my god!” you couldn’t stop the way your hips rolled, or the way your thighs began to shake, “Kook! Holy shit, I’m gonna—“

Before you could even finish your sentence, your orgasm washed over you and you came harder than you ever had before in your life. Your body felt hot, and every single one of your limbs were shaking. The only thing you were able to say or remember was Jungkook’s name, chanting it like a prayer as you slowly came back down to earth.

“That was fucking beautiful,” He was quick to compliment you, staring down at the apparent dark spot on your light pink shorts, “just wanna clean that all up, then do it all over again.”

Your face was flushed, and you weren’t sure whether it was from the mind blowing orgasm you’d just had or his words. You couldn’t be bothered to care, your body falling limp against his as he held your delicate frame close to him.

“You’re going to be the death of me.” You huffed, and you felt the rumble of Jungkook’s chest as he chuckled.

“So, you wanna go on a date tomorrow?” His hand caressed your back, and your eyes fell shut at the soothing feeling.

“Mhm.” You were dozing off, barely aware of what he’d said at all.

He just simply smiled at you, pressing his lips to kiss the top of your head.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up and get you to sleep.”

You nodded as he stood up from the floor, cradling you in his arms.

“Good idea.” You mumbled, nuzzling your cheek against his chest.

He carried you down the short hallway to his master bedroom, kicking the door open with his foot. You were already nearly asleep as he laid you down on the right side of his bed.

Jungkook kissed at your temple before making his way over to his dresser, pulling out a pair of his boxers for you to change into. He disappeared into the en-suite bathroom for a moment, carrying a damp cloth in his hand when he returned.

You smiled at him, eyes half open.

“This feels like a dream.”

The weight of the mattress shifted as he sat down beside you, holding out the fresh change of undergarments and the towel for you.

“Tell me about it.” He grinned, turning his head away from you to give you some privacy as you changed out of your soiled shorts.

You were thankful for that— for how respectful he was.

As you pulled your shorts down along with your panties, a realization hit you and your eyes widened.

“Kook!” you shrieked, startling the man, “you didn’t cum!”

He barked out a laugh at your outburst. Just when he thought you couldn’t get any cuter, you were quick to prove him wrong.

“I know, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not!” You insisted, quickly wiping your thighs clean and pulling on the plaid boxers he’d given you.

“Babe, I promise, it’s okay. Tonight was all about you, I wanted to make you feel good.”

Your lower lip pushed out and into a pout, your hands reaching forward to grab his face so that you could make him look at you.

“But, I wanted to make you cum.”

He hissed at your words, willing his cock not to rise. He knew you were tired, and there’d be plenty of time for you to get him off later.

“Let’s get some sleep, yeah? We can fool around tomorrow if you want to.”

You sighed, a tiny frown present on your face now.

“Can I just… give you a hand job, or something?”

You didn’t miss the way he groaned at your words, or the way his eyes quickly screwed shut.

“If you want to, you can. But don’t feel like you have to, I promise, it’s okay.”

“I want to,” you didn’t hesitate in replying, “but I’ve never done it before, so…”

Before you knew it, he was moving to lie down beside you on the other side of the bed. He was already sporting a tent in his athletic shorts, which had you nearly drooling. Based on the outline, he was sure to be huge. You prayed that you were right.

Jungkook looked relaxed, large eyes staring up at you and waiting for you to make a move. He flashed you an encouraging smile, his hands resting behind his head.

“Go ahead, do whatever you want. No need for you to be shy, it’s just me.”

Just him.

If anything, those words did little to calm your nerves. You’d only ever dreamed about being in similar predicaments with your best friend. And now that it was real and happening, you were petrified that you’d do something wrong and send him running in the opposite direction.

Taking a mental deep breath, you sat up in the bed and crossed your legs as you turned your body to sit right beside his lower half.

You reached a shaky hand forward, brushing your fingertips over the outline of his rock hard length. As your fingertips danced and teased over his covered cock, Jungkook’s breath caught in his throat.

Carefully studying his face to watch his reactions, you pulled his shorts down and he lifted his hips to help you out.

The tight, grey briefs he was wearing left little to the imagination. You could see every ridge and curve of his thick length, and drool was collecting on the corners of your mouth as you admired it.

“Like what you see?” His voice was teasing, and he wiggled his hips.

You laughed, rolling your eyes at his actions.

Yeah, it was just Jungkook. Your best friend. The one person you trusted and loved most in this world. It was okay. This was okay.

With your newfound confidence, you tugged his underwear down, his impressive dick springing free in the process.

You moaned quietly at the sight.

Sure, you were a virgin and didn’t have much to compare it to, but you were positive he had the prettiest cock you’d ever seen— and would ever see in your life. The head was perfectly pink and already dripping with precum, long veins running from base to tip. You couldn’t wait for the day it would be buried inside of you, and your cunt clenched around nothing at the thought alone.

Your hand instinctively found itself wrapped around his length as best it could, fingers unable to connect to your palm due to his size. Jungkook let out a breathy sigh at the sudden contact, his eyes glued to the way your hand began to do a few test pumps.

“Yeah,” he sighed, tilting his head back, “just like that. A little faster.”

With his guidance, you did as he suggested and picked up the speed of your hand. You watched the way his face contorted, the way his eyes screwed shut and pulled together as you ran your thumb over his slit, collecting the moisture leaking from it to use as makeshift lube.

Deciding to take a risk, you collect a bit of saliva in your mouth before allowing it to drip down and onto his cock.

“Hoooooly fuck, that’s hot.” You smirked at Jungkook’s praise and approval, working your hand up and down his shaft at a quicker and easier pace now thanks to the slick your spit had created.

The faster your hand pumped, the harder it became for Jungkook to properly breathe. He was panting, curses and praises of your name leaving his lips every so often.

You brought your free hand up to work at his balls, rolling and caressing them in a way that seemed to drive the man halfway to insanity.

“Fuck, you sure this is your first time doing this?” He breathed out the words, his arm falling to rest over his eyes as he attempted to keep himself composed.

“Swear.” You responded, eyes glued to the way his bottom lip was now rested between his teeth.

One final twist of your palm had him reeling, gripping at the sheets underneath him with one hand— his other coming to wrap around your wrist as you continued to work him toward his end.

He was moaning shamelessly, not the least bit shy in letting you know how amazing you were making him feel. Maybe it was the way you were fondling him, or maybe it was the fact that it was you giving him the best hand job he was sure he’d ever had.

He decided it was probably a combination of both as his hips thrust up wildly, effectively fucking his dick into your grasp. The way his cock seemed to twitch let you know he was close, and you brought your hand up and then back down as fast as you could.

He came with a loud moan of your name, his sperm coating his lower stomach and your hand all at the same time. You watched in awe as he lost himself, pride settling in as you realized that you were the one responsible for his orgasm.

As Jungkook’s body slowly stopped writhing, you removed your hand from his member. You waited for him to make eye contact with you again before you dipped your fingertips into the cum on the back of your other hand and brought them up and into your mouth.

“Goddamn.” He groaned, marveling at your erotic behavior.

You effectively cleaned his seed from your fingers, swallowing it and showing him your tongue along with your empty mouth.

“That was amazing.” His compliments sent butterflies straight to your stomach, and he was pulling your mouth down to crash on his before you could respond.

“I love you.” You were mumbling the words against his lips before you even realized what you were saying.

You were panicking instantly, kicking your own ass for blurting it out. Sure, you’d said you loved each other before, but not like this.

The feeling of Jungkook grinning against your mouth is what calmed you, and you matched his smile with one of your own.

His forehead rested against yours as he pulled away, and the two of you let out a sigh of content.

“I love you too, you know.” His hand caressed your lower back as he spoke, your thumb running over his cheek.

“I was hoping.” You giggled, and he simply shook his head at you.

This was it, you thought.

You never wanted to kiss anyone else, or do anything remotely sexual with anyone else. He was going to be your first everything, you were sure of it. And you hoped that he’d be your last.

*do NOT reupload/repost on any site, translate without my permission, or claim as your own.

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