#they were both extremely manipulative and abusive | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

evansbby · 2 months ago

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dark!Steve Rogers x reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: EXTREMELY HEAVY SUBJECT MATTER, heavy depictions of domestic violence, physical and verbal abuse, NON CON, smutt, major angst, rough, breeding kink, dirty talk, mean Steve, housewife kink, domesticity kink, victim-blaming, manipulation, self-deprecating thoughts, self-blame.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Steve was always a great husband. Until he wasn't.

𝐀/𝐍: SUPER DARK. Very angsty. Very heavy subject matter. This fic explores domestic violence. This fic can be triggering so please read warnings beforehand and please do not read unless you have read them.

“Sweetie, come downstairs.”

Steve only has to say it once and it’s enough for you to drop whatever you’re doing and follow wherever his voice is calling you. On this occasion, you switch off the iron and set it aside before straightening your dress and scurrying down to greet your husband.

“I’m sorry, I got wrapped up in my chores,” you explain, helping him take his jacket off before he wraps one strong arm around your waist and pulls you into him. Gosh, he was so big and strong! Steve’s physique always made you nervous and skittish – but in a good way, mostly. Carefully, you link your arms around his neck, reaching up on your tiptoes to give him a kiss.

“You’re still learning,” Steve says after a long, lingering kiss to your lips followed by several small pecks that make you smile. “I don’t expect you to know everything straight off the bat. But for every rule missed, you must repeat it back to me.” His hand slips down to cup your ass through the thin material of your dress, and he gives it a firm squeeze as if to prompt you. “So, what’s the rule, baby?”

“That a good housewife always greets her husband at the door when he gets home from work.” You recite it dutifully, because by now you know all the rules by heart. Steve had made you learn them before you’d got married. You remember the long days of sitting in his lap and repeating each rule after him, and you also remember the soreness of your ass each time you got it wrong.

You never got them wrong anymore.

“Good girl,” Steve praises and you glow. You take his tie off for him, all the while asking him questions about his day. How work was, if anything special happened, if he was hungry. (Of course he was hungry, you knew Steve had a voracious appetite for both food and… other things.) He could eat enough for three men in one sitting – which was probably why he was so big and strong and imposing. And scary. Well, you were definitely scared of him. Sometimes. But you try not to think about that.

“This looks great, sweetheart,” Steve sits down on his place at the head of the table and pulls you into his lap. That was another thing about Steve, another one of his rules. He preferred you in his lap instead of in your own seat – at the dinner table, on the couch, anywhere. Even in the presence of other people, which embarrassed you sometimes but you’d never tell him that. It was one of his rules, and that meant it had to be obeyed, no questions asked.

“Thank you, Steve. I tried really hard to make all your favourites.”

He feeds you and himself at the same time, and now it’s his turn to ask you questions.

“Oh, my day was pretty boring,” you accept the bite of chicken pot pie he feeds you, chewing thoughtfully and trying your best to ignore the way your heart starts pitter-pattering harder. “I did all the chores I was supposed to do, and then I did some shopping. I got us some pretty new bedsheets.”

“That’s nice, sweetie. Did you buy anything for yourself?”

“No. I just came straight home after that, and…” Your voice trails off, and you hope your increased heartrate and clammy palms aren’t showing in your face.

“And what?” Steve blinks, those angelic blue eyes looking at you expectantly.

You shouldn’t lie to him. He was your husband. And it was one of his main rules, after all – you weren’t allowed to lie. And it wasn’t like you’d done anything wrong…

“Well…”

The change in his demeanour is subtle, but it doesn’t escape you how he grabs your arm, his finger stroking against your bare skin as a deathly silence falls over the room, as if he’s awaiting your next words with careful patience.

You shuffle on his lap. Oh, why didn’t you just spit it out the moment he’d come home!? Now he’d think you’d deliberately kept it from him until he’d asked, and-

You take a deep breath, “Th-The car broke down on the way back.”

Silence. You dare to peak up at his eyes to see them impassive, waiting for you to continue. He gently sets the fork down beside his plate, an unreadable expression on his face that does nothing to calm your nerves.

“I don’t know what happened, but it broke down and it wouldn’t move and I…”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

It’s a toneless question, any warmth he’d possessed earlier now gone, and it makes you start shaking even more.

“I tr-tried but there was no service, and I knew you’d be busy, and… and… I’m sorry, Steve, I know I should have called you. I know I’m meant to call you when stuff like this happens, but in that moment I–”

“How did you get home?”

Another question. His voice flat, but the grip on your arm tighter than ever. You gulp.

“L-Luckily there was someone passing by, and they said their auto-repair shop was only five minutes away, and–”

“They?”

Your hands are shaking uncontrollably now, and you clasp them in your lap in a bid to get them to still. Your breathing grows more rapid, you can feel your palms grow sweatier as you squirm under your husband’s deathly calm gaze. You’re too afraid to look directly at him, but you know he’s expecting an answer. For a split second, you consider lying. But the consequences of that notion have you spitting out the truth before you can think about it any further.

“H-He.”

Steve goes deathly still. You hear him inhale sharply, his body tensing up even more underneath you. A part of you wants to burst into tears and run, run, run! But fear has you rooted in place, and even if it didn’t, he’s got a firm grasp on you, and you could never, ever overpower him.

“You got into a car with another man.”

He doesn’t even pose it as a question. No, the words leave Steve’s mouth in a statement of contempt and accusation. Except his tone is still so levelled, so dangerously low and contained.

“N-No! No, Steve, no! He offered to tow the car, and take it back to his repair shop. H-He was fixing it, Steve! And I swear I was only there for fifteen, maybe twenty minutes! I promise, and then I came straight home!” You’re tripping over your words, trying to get your explanation out. The explanation you’d subconsciously been rehearsing in your head all day because you knew it would come to this. You knew the moment that friendly stranger had tapped on your car window and offered his help. But what else could you have done in that moment?

“Steve, I know I should’ve called you the moment I had service, but I –”

“–But you were too busy with the mechanic.”

“No, no, Stevie, it’s not like that at all!” In hopeless desperation for this not to end badly, you bravely lock eyes with him, cupping his face in your hands, “I just didn’t want to bother you, I knew you had an important meeting around that time.” And I was also too scared to call.

His grip on your arm steadily tightens, till you can feel his fingers digging into your flesh. And you can see the vein in his forehead, the way his face is flushed red, the way he’s clenching his jaw, the way his eyes look so dark.

You wince, “S-Steve, please, you’re hurting me.”

“What did you do?”

“H-Huh?”

“In those fifteen, twenty minutes you were at his shop. When you should have been calling or texting me. What did you do?” Steve grips your chin, his thumb and forefinger pressing painfully down on your skin as he makes you look up at him. His expression is unreadable, his tone still low, but you can see that vein pulsing in his forehead. You know what it means.

“Nothing, I promise! I just sat in the waiting area, and…and there was no service, and–”

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm not, I swear I'm not, I-"

“You were fucking him.”

The accusation drops like a pin, except it feels more like a car crashing straight into your heart. You feel everything; hurt, panic, but most of all – fear.

And Steve’s eyes are so, so dark, and his words so matter-of-fact. He’s still got a death-grip on you, holding you firmly in his lap while you start shaking violently. Oh no, no, no, no… How could you persuade him that you hadn’t done that? How you could never do that?!

“No, Stevie, I would never! I t-told you, he was fixing the car, I barely spoke to him, I–”

“You fucked him. In the car that I bought for you. And then you thought you could keep it a secret from me.”

He isn’t hearing you. No, he’s going to that place. That place where his eyes turn black and his expression goes all far away, and his anger consumes him to the point where rationality goes completely out the window. And you’d give anything to not be dragged down into his dark place, where your pleas reach deaf ears, where your tears and screams don’t mean a single thing. Well, not until it’s all over.

“I didn’t, Steve, please believe me. I would never cheat on you, never ever. Please, you’re hurting me!”

His fingers clamp down on your upper arm so hard, you know they’ll leave a mark. Another one you’ll have to hide with a meticulous makeup routine and carefully selected clothes.

It takes all your strength to pry his hands off you, and you jump off his lap like a hot poker, slowly backing away as dread fills up your stomach. Dread that increases tenfold the moment he stands up too, up to his full height that makes you cower in total, utter fear.

“Don’t fucking lie to me,” his tone is hard now, louder, more biting, and your eyes zero in on his hands as they curl into fists at his side. “Do you think I was born yesterday?”

You continue backing away slowly, acutely aware that he’s stepping forward each time you take a step back. And like clockwork, you know how this goes. Soon your back would meet the wall, and then… Your eyes dart up behind him, up the stairs… Maybe, if you could get to the bedroom in time, perhaps lock the door?

“ANSWER ME!”

You jump, “No, Steve, I don’t! B-But I’m telling the truth. I barely spoke two words to the man, all I did was wait while he fixed the car. Please believe me,” your voice drops down to a broken whisper, “please…”

No talking to other men. It was perhaps Steve’s biggest rule. And it hadn’t always been like that, but slowly, through time, this rule had developed into one that your husband was the most obsessed with. The most angered by if ever broken by you. And what had started out as a little bit of a jealous streak had turned into white hot, obsessive, possession – almost paranoia. He saw red if a man ever looked your way, and God forbid if he thought it was the other way around…

“You’re fucking lying,” he spits out, each word coated in pure disdain that feels like ten stabs to your heart. “Had you been telling the truth, you wouldn’t have hid it from me until I asked you how your day was. You would have told me yourself, but you didn’t. You slept with someone else, and you thought you could fucking hide it from me, didn’t you?”

“No,” you whisper.

It only takes him two strides to get to you. And you’re frozen in fear but it’s like your body goes into fight or flight mode. He lunges at you, and you know he’s going for your throat but by some miracle you dodge him. And then you run, run, run for the stairs. Two at a time, oh you could make it! You’d lock yourself in the bathroom, wait for his anger to subside. You’d done that before, sometimes it would work, sometimes–

You take the stairs two at a time, but Steve’s legs are much longer than yours. He’s bigger than you in every way possible, stronger, faster too. It’s almost laughable how quickly he catches up to you, his footsteps heavily thudding on the floorboards. On the upper landing, and you’re almost at the bedroom door when he grabs your arm and yanks you back, and then–

SMACK.

The first hit always winds you. You never get used to it – his fist connecting with your jaw, the way your head snaps to the side, the ringing in your ear that blocks out all sound for a handful of moments. And then the pain, the numbing paint that’s all too familiar, radiating and spreading like hateful wildfire as you reach up to shield your face.

“Don’t fucking run from me, you little slut.” Steve slams you against the wall before pinning your wrists by your sides. “Look at me, look at me. I’m going to give you one last chance to tell the truth, and you better think very carefully before you speak, and don't you fucking lie to me. Did. You. Fuck. Him?”

A broken sob escapes your lips, a whimper filled with desperation, “N-No.”

It’s almost like he’s donned a mask as his handsome features twist into a snarl, his eyes narrowed to slits and yet you can still see the crazed darkness that consumes them like a cloud of black smoke. His lip curls in what looks to be contempt, and he shakes his head. “You’re a fucking liar.”

His grip on you tightens, if that was even possible, and his eyes flash, and suddenly he’s shaking you violently, your head hitting the hard wall with a thud as you cry and struggle against him.

“How the fuck could you? How could you sleep with him? After everything I do for you!? Answer the fucking question, how could you!?”

You want to defend yourself, tell him that you didn’t, you wouldn’t, how could he possibly believe you could? But you know there’s no point, you know he doesn’t hear anything when he gets like this. No matter how hard you cry, how much you beg and plead with him. He only sees red, never facts. And you’re still in shock from the first hit, so when you open your mouth nothing comes out.

The slap comes out of nowhere, the harsh cracking sound echoing across the hallway and bouncing off the walls as if to mock you. Your head whips to the side, and you’d have fallen down from the sheer force had he not been holding you up with his other hand.

“P-Please stop,” you croak out, finally finding your voice as the tears stream down your face from the pain of it. From both the physical and the mental anguish because you’d truly done nothing wrong! Hadn’t you? Sometimes he made you question yourself with how angry he’d get at you. “Please, Steve, it hurts, I didn’t–”

“Shut the fuck up and stop lying!” Steve roars, shaking you so hard you have to close your eyes because everything’s starting to spin now. “You thought you were fucking slick, didn’t you? Fucking someone else behind my back while I was at work, then coming home and acting like everything was fine, doing your fucking chores like you didn’t just act like a goddamned whore,” he shakes you again, his grip on your shoulders so hard you feel like passing out. “-thinking I wouldn’t’ find out, thinking I’m some fucking idiot who can��t put two and two together. That’s what you thought, didn’t you? DIDN’T YOU?!”

He backhands you hard when you don’t answer, before throwing you over his shoulder like you’re a sack of potatoes. Limply, you lay there, half disorientated and half crestfallen because you can’t even find it in you to defend yourself anymore.

He strides into the bedroom before throwing you on the bed, hard. You land with a thud, still clutching your face that blooms with never ending pain. Again, you try to shield yourself, but it’s like a rabbit trying to hide from a hungry lion. A hungry lion fuelled by crazed hatred and contempt. And that’s what hurts you the most – how he looks at you like that. As if you’re the worst person in the world. As if he really hates you and truly believes you’d ever cheat on him.

“You’re mine,” Steve snarls, climbing on top of you and once more grabbing your wrists. “I don’t give a fuck if you think you’re a free piece of ass who can run around town spreading your legs for the first man who looks your way. I own you, you fucking whore, and it’s your fucking fault that I’m doing this now. But you need to fucking learn…”

“N-No, please,” you cry out weakly when he grabs the material of your dress and rips it clean in half. Oh no, not this. Please not this. Not when he was so mad, so violent, not when he had that crazy look in his eye. You couldn’t do it, you couldn’t. He wouldn’t be gentle, and it would hurt so much. And you were already hurting so much. “Steve, I’m begging you, please, please, don’t! D-Don’t, I promise I’ll be better! I didn’t cheat on you but I swear, next time I’ll call you, next time I’ll–”

Another slap to your face shuts you up, and your sobs turn silent. Still there, just silent. Filled with dread and anguish and fear for the horrific roughness that is to come. That always came no matter how hard you begged. No matter how careful you were to follow his rules. You always messed up somehow. Oh, you could’ve been better! You should’ve been better and then you wouldn’t be here! And he’d still be nice, and you’d be sitting downstairs eating dinner and laughing, and…

Oh, how did it get to this?

“Everything I do for you, and you throw it all back in my face,” Steve snarls, and he’s so unrecognisable. Like a dark stranger looming above you, pelting out harsh words that he knows will cut deep, twist like a knife straight through your heart. Make you feel like you’re the worst person alive, and certainly the worst wife. Someone who can’t do anything right. Someone who can’t even keep her husband happy.

“I give you everything you could fucking want, I provide for you, don’t I?” He grabs your face with one hand, squeezing so hard it hurts. “Don’t I? Don’t I fucking give you anything you could ask for? And all I want in return is for you to listen to me. Your goddamned loyalty, that’s all I want. For you to fucking understand that you’re my property, that you need to do what I say. And what do you end up doing? Cheating on me like the fucking whore I always knew you were.”

He makes you believe it sometimes. Well, at first you didn’t, but now you’re not too sure. Maybe you were a terrible wife, because otherwise why would he always get so mad? You always tried your best to keep him happy but you never did enough. Did other wives do more than you did? Was that why their husbands never got mad at them? Was that why they were always happy and relaxed? While you walked on eggshells, waiting for him to explode? Maybe he wouldn’t be like this if he were married to a different woman. A better woman. Someone who didn’t make as many mistakes as you did. Someone who didn’t annoy him that much. Someone who kept him happy and didn’t make him so mad all the time that he had to accuse her of cheating. Someone he didn’t look at with pure hatred in his eyes, like he was doing with you now.

Steve kisses you roughly, possessively. Pressing his lips down on yours as if he wants to imprint the feel of them on you, sear it straight into your memory. As if you could ever forget. But it’s the sweet kisses from Steve that you want to remember, not the hate-fuelled way he’s kissing you now. But you just lie there limply, lie there and let him kiss you, let him pull your now tattered dress off you. And you wonder if he can taste the saltiness of your tears, and you wonder if even a tiny part of him cares.

How did it get to this?

“I’ll show you,” Steve mutters darkly, “I’ll show you who you fucking belong to. And it’s all your fucking fault, because you’re gonna feel it. And maybe this time, you won’t fucking forget it.”

You look beyond his shoulder as he unzips his fly and pulls his hard cock out. You look at the tiny speck on the wall, focus on it really hard. Focus on it till your vision blurs, focus on it so you don’t feel the excruciating pain as he forces his huge cock inside you. Focus on it till you can’t feel his hand wrapping around your throat, till you can’t hear the pure hatred hurtling out of his mouth. Maybe if you focused hard enough, it would all go away. Like magic.

It wasn’t always like this.

You remember your first date with Steve, almost a year ago to the day. Your friends had set you up with him, telling you he was only a couple of years older than you. Great looking, had an established career. But a bit shy, a bit reserved, someone who mostly kept to himself. You’d agreed, because you were shy and reserved too, and suggested ice-skating as a first date activity to help, well, break the ice.

And it had been so funny, because Steve couldn’t ice skate for the life of him.

“I don’t know how you do it,” he’d huffed, awkwardly “skating” up to you in the middle of the rink. Except he was less skating and more just dragging his skates across the ice while holding his huge arms out to balance himself. It was comical, because he looked so big and out of place, and yet so cute that you couldn’t help but giggle.

“It just takes a while to get used to,” you’d answered, skating around him before impulsively grabbing his hands in case he fell over or something. And you’d immediately widened your eyes when you’d realised what you’d done, about to drop his hands like hot pokers because you were never this forward on a first date! But Steve had chuckled, keeping a tight grip on your gloved hands and pulling you closer.

“Nope, I just think it’s in my genetic makeup to be bad at ice skating,” he’d said as he’d let you guide him back to the side of the rink where he could hold the railing, and yet he didn’t let go of your hands as he winked. “Either that, or I’m actually a pro who’s faking it just so you’ll hold my hand.”

You’d gone to the Christmas market after that, and Steve had bought you a hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows on top. You thought he’d stop holding your hand once you were off the ice, but he’d held it throughout your stroll through the markets. You’d delicately sipped your hot drink, secretly thrilled at how nice and safe it felt to hold his big, warm hand. How he was so handsome and he genuinely seemed interested in you.

“You’ve got whipped cream on your nose,” Steve had pointed out, and before you could wipe it off, he’d done it for you. And then his hand had stayed on your face, cupping it gently while the market bustled around you, busy as ever but the two of you seemed to be in your own little bubble. And then he’d kissed you, and it had felt so incredibly right. Like coming home from a long, cold day and being met with the warm familiarity of your own house. A house where you felt safe, and content, because in that moment, that’s what he made you feel.

Safe, warm, content, happy.

“I’m never letting you out of this fucking house again, you hear me?” Steve grunts, slapping your cheek not-so-lightly and knocking you out of your reverie. You blink several times, hoping it’s just a dream. But his rough thrusts remind you that it’s not, and your mouth curls in pain as his hand goes back to wrap around your throat. “Not until you learn not to act like such a goddamned slut, not until you learn to fucking listen to me, and be good. This is all your fucking fault, okay? That’s why I have to teach you.”

“St-Steve,” you cry lightly, unable to breathe because of how he’s pressing down on your neck, “I-I can’t… I can’t…”

“Shut up!” His thrusts grow harder, even more unforgiving. And all you can do is lie there and take it, and hope and pray and wish that you were somewhere else right now. With someone else. Or no one at all. His hands, which you’d known to be so gentle once upon a time, are rough as they squeeze and fondle and slap you as if you’re an animal, a toy, something he wants to pound till he breaks. “You deserve this, you little whore. Tell me, was that fucker’s cock worth it? Was it worth ruining what we have? FUCKING TELL ME!”

So unfair. It was so horrifically unfair. Because you’d never think of cheating on him, never ever. You love Steve, despite everything you love him so much. But he didn’t love you. Of course he didn’t. Maybe he had at first, but he didn’t anymore.

What had you done to make yourself so unlovable? What had you done to make him hate you so much?

Again, you think how he feels like a stranger, a stranger who’s hurting you and violating you in the most unforgiving way possible. All while you lie there and take it. And how was this Steve? The very same Steve you’d fallen in love with less than a year ago? The same Steve who’d confided everything in you? Told you that you were the one for him, told you how much he loved you, how happy he was that he’d found you? How was this the same Steve?

You still remember how surprised your friends had been with how close you and Steve had gotten in such a short amount of time. But they’d also been happy, and taken all the credit of course, as they’d set the two of you up.

And you remember feeling so goddamned happy all the time. Happy whenever you got off work and you got to see Steve. Giddy because of how comfortable you felt around him, despite knowing him for such a short period of time. One date turned to two, which turned to five, and before you knew it, you were looking forward to spending nights at his place. Cooking for him, kissing him, climbing up on his roof and talking all night while staring up into the stars.

It was during one of those moments when Steve had told you that you were the first person he’d felt close to in a very long time. He’d told you that he hadn’t had a great childhood, that his parents hadn’t been very nice people. And because of that, he’d run away when he was sixteen and never looked back. He didn’t speak to them anymore.

He’d told you he’d had a girlfriend before, and they’d been together many years until she cheated on him. And he’d squeezed your hand then, looking up at you from where his head had been resting on your lap, and the stars in the sky had reflected in his eyes so brightly, and he’d told you that you were the first person since then that he’d felt connected with, that he’d felt like he could be himself around. That he loved you so much despite the fact he’d only known you a couple of weeks. He loved you so much and so hard, that you were all he could think about. That you consumed him. And he loved that. And he loved you.

So, where did all that go?

That’s what you wonder now, your body jolting from each unforgiving thrust as the man who is your husband fucks you relentlessly, fucks you like he hates you. Tells you repeatedly, again and again that it’s all your fault.

Your fault. Maybe it is your fault. Oh, if only you hadn’t gone out today! If only you’d just stayed at home and been good! Then the car would’ve never broken down, and none of this would have happened, and Steve would’ve been happy. And you wouldn’t have made him upset like how you always seem to do now.

“I’ll make sure you never fucking disobey me again,” he mutters, pushing your legs up and throwing them over his shoulders while you moan in pain underneath him. His cock is a blur, pummelling in and out of you like a jackhammer. And it’s crazy, the very person who’d made you feel such pleasure in the past, could be inflicting so much pain on you now. “I’ll make sure they all know who you belong to the moment they fucking look at you. Fuck, I’ll show you.”

The contempt in his tone kills you over and over again. Makes you think you’ll never be good enough to make him happy. Make anyone happy. Maybe it was you who had ruined Steve, turned him into the monster he’d become. Maybe it was all your fault, your fault that the sweet, caring man you’d met had turned into your worst nightmare. Someone you were so fucking scared of that sometimes you couldn’t even breathe.

“I’ll knock you the fuck up,” Steve grabs your chin, pressing his forehead against yours, “Maybe then you’ll get it through your head that you’re not the free piece of ass you seem to think you are. And everyone will see who exactly you belong to.”

You whimper, too frightened to protest, your body jolting with each thrust. And it always hurts when he’s this rough, it always burns so bad because of how big he is.

You remember a few months into dating him, when he’d taken your virginity. He’d been so sweet, so gentle. Holding you close and murmuring sweet nothings in your ear while you cried in his arms despite trying to be brave. He’d told you he was big, and that it would hurt and he’d pull out if you wanted him to. But you’d held on to him so tightly that night, because despite the pain, it had been so special to you. And he’d been so kind, so tender, and you’d basked in the glow of being loved. And the pain had been worth it, because you’d felt so close to him, and he’d told you over and over again how much he loved you, how special you were. How you completed him. How you were so pretty, so exquisite, how if he could take all the pain away from you and give it to himself, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

Now, he roughly presses his huge palm against your abdomen, and you can see the outline of his cock in your stomach as he continues to jut into you with inhumane force. Each thrust makes the bed rock underneath you, the bedposts hitting the wall with thwack after thwack while you silently lay there, the tears drying up on your cheeks, and yet your whole body still burns with pain from the constant onslaught.

“God fuck, your pussy’s still so fucking tight despite how much of a fucking whore you are,” Steve mutters through gritted teeth, “I’m gonna fill you the fuck up, get you pregnant once and for all so everyone knows not to fuck with what’s mine. And I swear to God, from now on you won’t even look at another man, let alone fuck some hick ass mechanic who’s trying to take you away from me because you’re too goddamned stupid to realise it.”

He hadn’t always so possessive to the point of insanity. Not the way he is now. You remember the old Steve, how he’d see you having innocent interactions with other men and not think twice about it. But slowly and surely, that had changed.

“I don’t like you talking to other men,” Steve had admitted to you once a few weeks into your relationship. “I know it’s irrational but I just hate it.”

“Oh, Stevie, it doesn’t mean anything,” you’d giggled, although you remembered secretly feeling so giddy that he cared enough about you to be jealous. That meant he was serious about you! “It’s you that I want, I couldn’t care less about anyone else!”

“I know,” he’d sighed, grabbing your hands and pressing kisses on them in a way that made you giggle even more. “I guess it’s just something I have to work on.”

But what had started out as simple, innocuous jealousy had morphed into something so much bigger, twisted, and ugly.

It began with a simple request; “please baby, don’t talk to him. I don’t like it.” And you found yourself listening to him, thinking he’d leave you if you didn’t. You distanced yourself from any male friends you had, including co-workers and even your relatives. You couldn’t stand to see Steve upset, and he’d asked you so nicely, so why wouldn’t you listen to him?

After that, he’d made you move in with him. “It’s just easier this way,” he’d assured you, despite the fact that you’d only been going out less than two months, “I feel more comfortable knowing you’re safe in my bed at night, and then I don’t worry as much.”

Then he’d made you quit your job. “I don’t like how those men at your work look at you,” he’d said, “I’ll take care of you, sweetie. You don’t need to work anymore.” And so, you’d quit without a second thought. It’s what had made Steve happy, so why wouldn’t you listen to him?

Then, he’d wanted to know where you were all the time. “I worry about you so much, you have no idea,” he’d told you once when the two of you were in bed and he was holding you close, stroking your hair while you lay on top of his chest. “I need to know where you are all the time, okay? I just… I need to know. And who you’re with. You need to tell me, or else I’ll go insane.”

Constant check-ins, constant texts. You were allowed to go out with your girlfriends, but never past a certain time. And certainly never a holiday or a girls’ trip. He had to know who your friends were, if they had boyfriends or brother, he had to know everything. And you were so in love with him, you hadn’t even realised that maybe it was all too much.

“My ex-girlfriend was having an affair behind my back for one year,” he’d told you quietly one night. One hot August night when the two of you had climbed up on his roof, and he lay with his head in your lap. His feathery lashes fanning his cheekbones, and his face softened by the moonlight, he’d looked like an angel that night. “One whole year, and I didn’t have a clue until the day I caught her. Them. I caught them in my bed.”

You’d listened with baited breath, because Steve never really spoke much about his life before you. Not his childhood, nor his parents who he didn’t speak to. And definitely never his ex-girlfriend.

“I just can’t lose you,” he’d said, staring hard at the dark night sky, “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you, if you left me. If someone took you away from me, I think I’d die.”

You’d kissed him then, and whispered against his lips, “I’m not going anywhere, Stevie. I love you so much, and there’s nobody else out there for me. Just you. So don’t worry, because you’re stuck with me for as long as you’ll have me.”

He’d sat up and taken you into his arms, hugging you so tight you couldn’t breathe – but in a good way. “Forever,” he’d mumbled into your hair, “I’ll have you forever, and then after that too. I’m never gonna let you go.”

You’d married him a month later in a small ceremony with just your family and some friends. And he’d looked so happy on that day, so handsome and happy and he’d held you close to him the whole night. You were happy too, and thrilled that he was so happy. “Now everyone knows your mine,” he’d whispered in your ear while you two slow-danced, “This is all I’ve ever wanted, you’re all I’ve ever wanted. Thank you. I love you.”

“If you ever fucking cheat on me again, I’ll kill him.” Steve grabs your jaw hard, his fingers pressing against your skin until you cry out, ripped away from the safety of your memories and back into the present. “And you too. You got that? I’ll fucking kill you both.”

You’ve cried all the tears you possibly can, and so you just lay there. Limp, shaking like a leaf yet feeling so numb. So numb and alone because he wasn’t your husband. He was a monster, a monster you didn’t even recognise. Your angelic husband warped into a monster because of you, because of you, because of you!

With a grunt, he unloads inside you. His hot cum searing you from the inside out, and there’s so much of it. And he holds you up, with your legs pressed up over his shoulders, spilling load after load of his seed into you, making sure it stays, making sure it sticks.

And then he throws you aside, rising up to his feet and staring at you with blazing eyes. He’s still fully dressed in his suit, while you lie below him in your tattered dress. The one you’d chosen so painstakingly to wear for him today.

With glassy eyes and limbs that don’t move, you watch him as he does up his fly, muttering profanity under his breath. He’s still so angry, you can tell by that vein on his forehead, and the way his fists are balled up by his sides. You hate his fists. They scare you more than anything else in the whole world.

He doesn’t utter another word. Instead, he leaves. You hear him go down the stairs, hear the jangle of the car keys, the slam and lock of the front door.

He was gone.

Your body curls up into foetal position, and you hug yourself hard. It’s the only solace you can give yourself. Everything hurts. From your face, your jaw, your arms, your whole body down to your heart and your soul. Oh, you hate yourself! For being so weak, so pathetic!

But most of all, you hate yourself for making him how he’d become. If only you’d been a better wife, if only you’d been able to make him happy. Good wives didn’t get hit. So maybe this pain was what you deserved.

If only you hadn’t lied about the car…

Oh, the car! The goddamned car! You wish to God you could turn back time. But what could you have even done differently?

You remember feeling a sense of dread the moment the car had stopped working. And it had increased tenfold when you’d taken your phone out to call Steve, only for there to be no signal. Of course, the car had decided to stop working in the middle of nowhere. It was less than ideal, since you had to get home and finish all your chores before Steve got home. Otherwise, he might get mad, and then…

“Hey there, you OK?”

The knock on your window makes you jump, and you find a man peering in at you, a friendly yet slightly concerned look on his face. Oh gosh, Steve would be so mad if I spoke to this man now, you think to yourself. And yet… there’s not much else you can do. Your car won’t start back up, and you don’t know the first thing about repairing it.

“H-Hey,” you roll your window down, trying not to look directly at the stranger’s tanned face. “I’m OK, thanks for asking. My, uh, my car isn’t though. I think. It won’t start up.”

The man nods, “Yeah, that’s why I came over. Saw you on the side of the road and knew you wouldn’t be parked here for no reason.” He pauses, listening to the hum of your engine with a thoughtful look on his face. “I think I recognise the sound. If I could get this car back to my auto-shop, I think I could fix it.”

“Really?” Hope fills your heart before reality comes crashing down. Steve wouldn’t like for you to be going into auto-shops with men you didn’t know. You weren’t allowed to talk to any man unless Steve approved it. And you gulp, thinking how mad he’d be if he found out. The hairs on the back of your neck prickle as you think about the last time he’d gotten mad at you… No, you couldn’t go with this man, it wouldn’t be worth the trouble.

“I, uh, I think I can get it to start back up myself. Thanks anyways though!” You say with false brightness. But after a few more failed attempts, you slump back against your seat in defeat, and the man chuckles.

“A valiant effort. But as I said, my shop’s only about a mile and a half down that way. And luckily, I’ve got my tow truck with me now. Let me help you, and you’ll be on your way in no time.”

His face softens when he sees the hesitant look on your face, and he runs a hand through his unruly brown hair before fishing something out of his pocket. “Here’s my card, just so you know I’m legit. C’mon, let me help you. I couldn’t possibly leave a lady out here all on her own with a broken-down car that’s an easy fix.”

You bite your lip. His business card did look legit. And after another quick glance at your phone – still no signal – you nod and smile at the stranger. Maybe Steve would be proud of you for taking the initiative and getting yourself out of a sticky and potentially dangerous situation.

The ride to the man’s auto-repair shop is short enough. And he spends the next fifteen minutes fixing your car, all while you sit in the waiting room fretting and typing out texts to Steve that you’re too scared to send. You need to think of the perfect way to explain what had happened with the car, the most delicate explanation that wouldn’t result in him getting mad. Oh, you didn’t want him to get mad! Not when things had been going so well recently, and he hadn’t gotten mad in a long time, and you were starting to believe that he still loved you, and wasn’t annoyed by you all the time, and didn’t hate you, and–

“She’s almost fixed!” The man had announced cheerily, walking into the waiting room and shooting you a bright smile, one that had melted off his face the moment he’d seen the look of worry on your face. “Hey, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” standing up and smoothening down your dress, you’d shot the man a puzzled look. “What do you mean, almost?”

“Almost as in I need an extra part to complete the fix, but it won’t come in until tomorrow.” The man runs a hand through his wavy brown hair that curls charmingly at the base of his neck. “But don’t worry, she’ll be back home in your driveway by noon tomorrow at the latest. I promise.”

“T-Tomorrow?” your blood runs cold, and it’s insane how your hands start shaking instantaneously. “But it can’t stay here overnight, my…my husband, he’ll find out, and then–”

“Husband?” The man repeats slowly before quickly gathering himself and taking a step back. “Well, ma’am, I’m sure he won’t mind about the car, so long as you’re alright. And don’t worry, I can give you a lift home.”

“N-No, you don’t understand, he…” you swallow harshly, squeezing your eyes shut for a second and clasping your hands to get them to stop shaking so violently, “N-No, he can’t know I was here, he can’t, he’ll…”

“Why don’t you let me speak to him,” the mechanic says slowly, pointing at your phone. “I’m sure I could explain the problem with the engine–”

Your eyes widen in pure fear, “NO! I mean, uh, no, that won’t be necessary. I just, oh God, I-I…” Suddenly, you can’t think straight. If Steve found out you were at this man’s auto-shop alone with him, that he’d spoken to you, that you’d spoken back to him… Oh no, Steve couldn’t find out. He’d get so mad, and he’d hurt you, and then everything would be awful for days.

“Is everything okay, ma’am?” The guy has a look of serious concern painted on his face as he stands before you. He’s tall, tall just like Steve, and looks just as strong too. “I know it’s none of my business, but you look awfully scared.”

You force a laugh that comes out a tad too high-pitched, “I’m fine! I’m totally fine! I just…”

“Let me give you a lift home,” the man says gently, taking a hesitant step closer to you. “I can speak to your husband, let him know it wasn’t your fault that your car broke down.”

“That’s not what he’d be angry about,” your eyes widen when you realise you’ve said too much. “I mean, he won’t be angry at all. Not at all. Everything’s gonna be just fine.”

More than him, it seems like you’re trying to persuade yourself.

“I, uh, I’ll call myself a cab,” you say, but the man places his warm hand on your wrist to stop you, and the contact makes you jump. He’s so… gentle. It’s a strange sensation. And then he just… looks at you. For a handful of seconds that feel like ages, he just looks at you with inquisitive blue eyes, as if he’s trying to read you, or at least trying to understand.

“Please, allow me,” finally, he tears his eyes away, and he’s got his phone out and he’s already dialling the number, “the reception here isn’t great, but my phone seems to work through it.”

It’s only later, when you’re getting into the cab, that he grabs your arm once more. Well, “grab” would be the wrong word. He gently placed his hand on your arm as if to stop you, and you hesitate, half distracted by the need to get home before Steve and come up with an excuse about the car, and half curious about what the mechanic has to say.

“You have my card,” he says slowly with significance, his voice lowering to a deep rumble. “Call me tomorrow about your car. Or,” he adds when you start closing the cab door, “if you feel like there’s another reason you should call me, then please just do it. I’m here to help.”

He holds your gaze for a moment or two, a few wayward strands of his brown hair falling over his forehead before he pushes them back. You find yourself forgetting to breathe, before you quickly shake your head and force a smile before looking away.

“Thank you for your help.”

Now, you lie alone on your bed, on your side with your knees up to your chest, shielding yourself and your poor body from whatever lies ahead. You can feel the outline of the mechanic’s card in your dress pocket, and muster up the strength to take it out.

Should you call him? It’s not like you had anyone else. Your family lived miles and miles away on the other side of the country. Steve had moved you to a different state after the wedding, claiming the two of you needed a fresh new beginning to start your new life together. And so you’d left all your friends and family behind without a second thought, loyally following your husband into the sunset because you loved him and trusted him.

You’d made new friends now, but they were the wives of Steve’s friends, and you didn’t know if you could trust them. What if they took Steve’s side? What if they recognised that it was you who’d turned him so awful and mean? That it was you who was the rotten one, poisoning everything you touched because you couldn’t keep him happy, couldn’t be a good wife?

You stare so hard at the card until your vision blurs, and then you stare some more. After a while, your thoughts just cease altogether, and you just lie there. Just wishing you didn’t exist. Wishing you were never alive to begin with, wishing you never felt the immense love in your heart that you still do for Steve. Wishing love never existed and neither did you. That you just disappeared into thin air one day and Steve could move on and be happy and be better for someone who made him better. Someone he genuinely loved and cared for and wanted to be better for.

Someone who so clearly wasn’t you.

You don’t know how long you lie there. Motionless. It’s different this time. In the past, after he’s left you like this, you’ve been able to get back up. Brush yourself off, make yourself pretty again and pretend it never happened. For the sake of both of you, just pretend it never happened.

You remember the first time he’d hit you. It was a month or so after your wedding, and Steve had taken you out to a work party of his. And you’d felt so relaxed, so pretty on the arm of your husband, wearing the dress he’d chosen for you, the jewellery he’d bought you. The diamond earrings sat pretty on your ears, a present from him that very night. He’d come up behind you while you’d sat at your vanity getting ready, and kissed your cheek and told you how much he loved you, how you deserved all the prettiest things in life because you were the prettiest thing in his life.

You’d felt so at ease, being led around by Steve whilst you mingled and spoke with his work colleagues. But his good mood hadn’t lasted as the night had gone on, and halfway through the evening, you’d sensed him go silent next to you. Deathly silent. His grip around your waist had tightened to the point where it was almost uncomfortable, and his jaw was tight too. His lips set into a straight line.

He’d been just as silent on the drive back home, and it was only once the two of you were back in your bedroom, that he’d chose to speak.

“You were getting awfully comfortable with some of the men at the party,” he’d commented while you were undoing his tie.

You’d wrinkled your nose, “What?”

“Don’t say what. You know exactly what I mean.” His tone was cold, colder than you’d ever heard it. Soon, you’d grow used to the tell-tale signs that he was going into that dark, forlorn place he went to when he got like this. But back then, you didn’t really have an inkling.

“D-Did I do something to upset you, Stevie?” You’d asked hesitantly, not knowing what to make of his detached anger. You’d reached back to undo the zipper of your dress. Usually, he did it, but he wasn’t offering to do it then.

“Do I have to spell it out for you?” His tone had been so cutting that you’d physically flinched, and when he’d turned back around, his eyes were blazing accusatorily, “You were acting like a goddamned slut tonight, flirting with all those men.”

You remember the insult not even hitting you, because the absurdity of his statement had taken you so far off guard that instead, a giggle had escaped from your lips. An awkward giggle, like you had no idea what to say to such an absurd accusation.

“Do you find this funny?” You’d never forget the look he’d given you then, how he’d strode across the room, how big he’d looked, how scared you’d felt in that one second.

“No, Stevie, I was just–”

The strike had come out of nowhere. Like a clap of thunder, almost. You’d heard it before you’d even felt it. The slap that seemed to reverberate off the walls, except it was his palm against your cheek. The force of it had you reeling, and you’d lost your balance. Crashed against the wall with a thud before you’d fallen down.

You still remember how unreal it all had felt. Like an out of body experience, almost. Surreal. And the pain had bloomed instantly on the side of your face, and you’d looked up at him and he’d looked down at you, a horrified look on his face. He’d held his hand out in front of him, staring at it hard, and the darkness from his eyes had cleared.

Back in the present, and you can’t stop shaking. You feel numb, empty, and yet you can’t stop shaking. You try to think back to the old Steve, the good Steve. The sweet Stevie who was a little bit shy, and yet so charming and witty at the same time. So poetically in love that he’d made you fall for him, hook, line and sinker. The romantic Steve who’d whisked you off your feet and you’d happily followed him into the sunset without a second glance backwards.

Steve. The love of your life.

You just wish he still loved you back.

You don’t know how long you lie there. Seconds, minutes, hours, they don’t mean a thing. Not when this was to be your reality for the rest of your life. Again, you feel the charming mechanic’s card in your hand, but now you can’t even muster up the energy to hold it up.

It’s the dead of the night when he finally comes back. You haven’t moved an inch, but the sound of the front door shutting and the footsteps thudding up the stairs has alarm bells going off in your head.

No, no, no. No more hitting, no more pain. You couldn’t take another slap, you couldn’t, you couldn’t, you couldn’t! In fight or flight mode, you heave yourself up, shaking with fear. The only place you can think of to hide is under the bed. And maybe he wouldn’t care to look for you, maybe he’d stay in the guest room, maybe he’d just leave you alone.

But you see Steve’s shoes as he enters your shared bedroom, and you find that you’re holding your breath. Slowly, he steps inside, and you hear him call out your name quietly. You squeeze your eyes shut, hoping to be transported away. Far, far away where nothing cruel could reach you, and you could be happy all the time and not have to feel any pain, not ever, ever, ever!

It’s when his fingers wrap around your ankle that you start crying again. But no sound comes out, perhaps because you’re in shock. Or maybe because you’re just too scared. Rigid, frozen in complete fear, you’re limp as he pulls you out from under the bed.

“Oh God,” he whispers as the stark white orange light of the bedroom hits you. “Oh…Oh God… I…” his voice catches, his blue eyes clear and alert, blinking several times as he takes you in. Your poor, quivering body, and haunted, dead eyes that look anywhere except at him.

“I didn’t mean to,” he hoists you up into his lap gently as he sits on the cold floor, a mix of shock and regret on his face as he repeatedly shakes his head, surveying your face, your arms, your shoulders, your stomach, “Baby, I… Oh God, I didn’t mean it, I swear I didn’t…”

You find the tiny speck on the wall once more, and you fix your gaze upon it until it blurs. You're so numb, so far away, and you barely feel his hand as he gingerly touches the bruises and marks he’s left on you. Some old ones, some new. Some that had yet to turn dark and noticeable, some half covered in makeup from before.

Carefully, Steve strokes your face, the same side he’d slapped repeatedly only a few hours before. But the gentleness doesn’t register to you. Nothing does. You stare at the speck even harder, wondering if it was always there.

“I’m so sorry,” he breathes, his tone hushed, regretful. Filled with anguish. “Baby, I’m so sorry, I… I got angry, I shouldn’t have got angry but I just…” his voice trails off as he stares hard at his own hand. As if he can’t believe he’s done this, as if he can’t believe that his own hand was capable of doing so much damage.

The speck on the wall seems to get bigger. You wish to God it would swallow you up whole.

“I swear I won’t do it again; I won’t ever hurt you like this again, I swear on my life,” Steve holds you up against his chest, cradles you like you’re a baby. And it feels so alien, to be handled so delicately. He hugs you close, burying his face in your shoulder, and that’s when you hear his voice break, “I won’t do it again, you have my word I’ll never hurt you again. I’m so fucking sorry, oh God, I’m so sorry.”

I won’t do it again. You’d heard that before. That’s what he’d said the first time he’d hit you. That’s what he said after every time. The speck grows blurry.

“Baby, please say something,” he stops hugging you, but still holds you in his lap, his strong arms around you in a way that should make you feel safe but right now you just feel nothing. His voice is thick, “I swear on everything, I won’t lay a hand on you again. I just… I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I don’t know why I get like that. Everything goes black, and it’s like I can’t think straight and then by the time I can, it’s too late. But I swear I’ll get better, I swear on my life this won’t happen again, baby, just please. Please say something.”

If you painted over the speck, would it still be there? Would it disappear entirely, or would the paint chip off after enough time had passed, and reveal the ugliness once more?

“I’ll go to anger management, therapy, you name it,” he shakes you gently, his thumbs stroking your cheekbones. “I want to get better for you, be better for you. I know I’m not a good man, baby, I know you deserve better and I’ll do anything. I swear, this is the last time I hurt you, okay? Please, just believe me, okay? Just say something.”

Steve stands up with you in his arms, your limbs falling limply down by your sides, your head lolling down too. Almost like you’re not real, like you’re a doll who was alive for a little while but you’re not anymore. You certainly don’t feel alive. You don’t feel anything. Just numbness.

Tenderly, he lays you down on the bed. The same bed he’d roughly thrown you down and violated you on just a few hours earlier. And a part of you, a tiny part of you from the deepest recesses of your mind, wants to muster up the courage to look into his eyes. To search for the man you love, to see if he’s still there. But the dark numbness eats you from the inside out, and so you just stare blankly at your speck on the wall.

“I promise I’ll change,” Steve repeats, the desperation now evident in his tone as he clutches your face, wills you to look at him. “Please, just listen to me. Believe me when I say I’ll change. Wh-When we… when we have our little girl, I’ll change. I’ll be a good husband and a good dad, make both of you happy. I won’t ever get like this again, I can promise you that now, alright? That’s a promise I’m making to you right now.”

A child? Would he hurt it too? Would he grow to hate it too, simply because it would be yours?

He grabs your hand, and his is so warm. Or is yours the one that’s freezing cold? It had been cold under the bed, but you’d liked it. Feeling cold was a different kind of pain, one that distracted you from the pain he’d caused you.

He kisses you desperately, all over your face as if trying to get you to say something back to him. Instead, you notice another speck on the ceiling above the closet. How many were there? Were they secretly laughing at you? Mocking you for staying so long in a speck-filled house?

“Baby?” Steve’s eyes glisten, his face so ghastly pale as he grabs your hand and presses more desperate kisses on it, “Baby, please say something. Say you forgive me. I-I don’t know why I do it, okay? I just, I’m so fucking terrified of someone taking you away from me. Taking away the one person, the only person, in my whole fucking life who means everything to me. I couldn’t stand it, I thought he’d take you away from me, and I just saw red, and I’m so sorry. I hate myself for doing this to you, baby. I’m so sorry, please say something!”

But you can’t! How can you, when it doesn’t even feel like you’re real anymore?

The specks are all around you now, growing larger and larger. You can hear Steve apologising over and over again, hugging you close as he begs for your forgiveness. But you’re too far away, so far away that you can barely hear him anymore. Lightyears away, in your own universe where you’re brave and confident and nobody ever messes with you. Nobody ever hurts you. And you take care of yourself, and it’s enough.

You find yourself hurtling through windows of time, entering one before flitting into the next as the specks grow so large it feels like they’re consuming you. You find yourself observing your birthday last year, when you’d baked your own cake and Steve had spent hours decorating it for you. Using your favourite-coloured frosting, and of course you’d gotten some on your face. He’d kissed it off for you, and told you that you were adorable.

Now you’re on Steve’s roof, the night he’d told you about his big promotion at work. You’d yelped in excitement, hugged him so hard it had hurt – but the good kind of hurt. And he’d had those stars in his eyes as he’d held you. “You’re my best friend, you know?” he’d said, “Every time anything good happens, you’re the first person I look for in the room to tell.”

Memory after memory, one cherished moment after another. And you’re so possessive of these moments, like you want to lock them up in a jar and keep them safe forever. Not let them get tainted like how he’d gotten tainted. Because of you, of course.

Maybe I’ll stay here, you think as the specks continue to consume you. It’s safe here. I’m happy here. He’s happy too. Maybe I’ll stay forever...

But something's stopping the specks from swallowing you up and taking you away. Taking you far, far away where Steve couldn't hurt you anymore, the place where there was only love and never hate. But something's stopping you, pulling you back like gravity that you simply couldn't defy. A stranger's voice, warm and sweet like honey, cutting through the freezing cold numbness.

“If you feel like there’s another reason you should call me, then please just do it. I’m here to help.”

You feel the card clutched tightly in your hand; the hand Steve isn’t holding on to. And it pulls you back, back, back to reality. Another memory, but this time it’s a stranger with blue eyes and a friendly smile.

The specks slowly start to disappear, and you find yourself back in your bedroom. Back in Steve’s arms. Back in his warm embrace, except it does nothing to stop you from feeling so numbingly cold.

“I love you,” Steve whispers, “I love you so much, I’d die if I lost you. Please forgive me, baby. Come back to me. I won’t ever hurt you again.”

He lifts you up and hugs you once more, holding on to you so tightly as if his life depends on it. Strokes your hair and whispers sweetly in your ear, says all the words of regret that you've heard before. But you lie motionless in his arms like a broken doll, your poor cheek resting limply on his shoulder.

And it’s over Steve’s shoulder that you look down at the card in your hand, and read the man’s name, along with his number. And suddenly, a coolness washes over you.

Your finger twitches. You take a deep breath.

“Baby?” Steve draws back till you’re both face to face once more, and his eyes have those stars in them again, the stars you'd fallen in love with, the stars you'd wanted back so bad that you'd let it get this far. He cups your face, and presses his forehead against yours.

“You forgive me, don't you?"

THE END.

Okay so. That was a lot. It was a lot to write. If you're still here, then thank you for sticking around till the end. I hope you enjoyed reading it and I hope you found the story that I was trying to tell compelling. Please do let me know what you thought. What do you think reader will do now? What do you WANT her to do now? Who was the stranger? Why is Steve the way he is? IDK. Any raw thoughts and feedback would be incredible as always. Thanks so much for baring with me while I tried to post this fic. One last thing - this is a work of complete fiction. Thank you <3

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #chris evans #tw dv #tw dv mention

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ang3ltine · 21 days ago

Text

𝐖𝐞'𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 '𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬'?- College au

⤿ 𝖿𝗍 𝖬𝗎𝗌𝗂𝖼 student 𝖲𝖾 𝗆𝗂 𝗑 𝖥𝖺𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗈𝗇 student 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

𝖲𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒: this is just a small headcanon that shows how it would be like to have a roommate like Se mi.

𝖶𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌: mentions of alcohol, drunk Se mi, smoking, suggestive themes, abusive relationship and violence (not too extreme).

𝖠𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗌: Don't worry this mostly contains fluff!! Also I hope you enjoy!

𖦹 It was the start of a new year in College and you had decided to swap roommates with another girl. The reason was that your old roommate was a pain in the ass and you'd had enough.

𖦹 By the time you had entered your new dorm room, another girl was unpacking her stuff. She was tall, had short dark hair and piercings on her nose and bottom lip. Honestly you had mixed feelings, she was super hot but also kind of intimidating?

𖦹 Nonetheless, despite you two being polar opposites of eachother. You both got along pretty well. Your roommate was a music major named Se mi, her aesthetic was more simple and darker than yours. Whereas you liked your pinks and whites and was a Fashion Major.

𖦹 You thought that Se mi would be the type to keep to herself and not talk much with you, but you were dead wrong. She's super kind and caring but was also a big tease.

𖦹 Furniture shopping!! You guys would go to the mall to buy cute furniture for your dorm room. Se mi picked out cute matching cups with Cherries for you guys to share ♡

𖦹 Se mi legit lives in your bed at this point. She loves how your mattress was much more plush and comfortable than hers. You'd always have to kick her out if you find her sneaking under your covers at night.

"Se mi? What the hell are you doing??" You hissed through your teeth as Se mi slips under your covers.

"What..? Oh don't mind me, just go back to sleep and pretend you never saw me," she'd state casually while snuggling further into the blanket. This had been going on since maybe the 3rd week of the 1st semester?

Groaning in annoyance while you face palmed, you had to calm your heartbeat down. At some point you had begun to grow a small crush on her but blamed it on your lack of success in your love life.

𖦹 Speaking of your love life. It was a legit mess. Every boy you had been with had either cheated on you or was just a fling. The most recent 'boyfriend' you had was super manipulative and controlling. Feeling like you didn't really have a choice , you stuck with him. Because he gave you what you thought was love.

𖦹 Se mi hates this man with her guts and believes you deserve better. Literally has an existential crisis because she doesn't know whether the feelings she has for you is platonic or much more.

𖦹 Finally she had enough when she heard you crying by your bedside, keening down and clutching your stomach. He had punched you, hard. Without a second thought, she stormed her way through the boy's dormitory and confronted the guy. Leaving him with a broken nose and a clear message.

"Don't mess with my girl."

𖦹 Se mi likes when you style her clothes or pick out outfits for her. Also she absolutely loves it when you actually make clothes for her! Literally adores every accessory or shirt/sweater you design for her.

𖦹 She's a smoker and gets drunk from time to time. This was so she could cope with her own problems, until you coerced her to drink less and smoke outside. As her birthday gift, you got her the vivienne westwood heart shaped lighter that had been on her wishlist. You may or may not have taken a look at it while she wasn't looking. She so wanted to marry you on the spot when you handed it to her.

"Please marry me!!" She'd scream, literally almost waking up the girls next door.

"Geez! Ok, fine! I'll marry you, just be quiet!" You whisper shouted as she hands you a makeshift ring that she totally didn't make right infront of you.

𖦹 Don't worry, she gets you a real one with a golden band and a pink gem in the middle. Which you love and Cherish ofcourse! You two would definitely have matching promise rings, with hers being a silver band and a black gem.

𖦹 Both of you collect figurines so you two definitely go to popmart together! She likes Hirono and Kubo whereas you liked Skullpanda and Molly figurines. You'd decorate your room with showcases and get matching labubu's together!! So cute

𖦹 Would drop you off at your class before going to hers cause both the music department and fashion/design department are close by.

𖦹 Gives you privacy whenever you need it and isn't the type of person to eavesdrop in a conversation that you're having with a friend. Unless you personally come to her for advice.

𖦹 When you two started dating, she was the one to ask you to be her girlfriend. She knew you had feelings for her too but you didn't know how to tell her. Which she completely understands, this was something new to you. She took her time with you and eventually you got more comfortable in the relationship.

𖦹 Ideal dating spots would be around or near campus, unfortunately. This is due to your busy schedules and you both take your majors seriously. If you guys are on break, she definitely take you outside the city to the beach. If you didn't want to travel far, she'd take you to cute cafés and arcades to have fun and chill at the same time.

𖦹 Very much into PDA! Holds your hand/waist when your walking to class or talking a walk around campus. Would teasingly whisper obscene things into your ear just to get a reaction out of you. Often resulting in you both making out in the girls washroom or a janitors closet.

{Nsfw}

𖦹 Oh Lord you're in for a long ride. Yall share the same washroom so expect shower sex from time to time. You'd have to shove her out the bathroom because she wouldn't leave, when you just wanted a peaceful shower.

𖦹 Is surprisngly super sweet and soft during intimacy. A soft dom most of the time but can be a switch too. However, if she's feeling frustrated then expect her to be a little rough. But she'd give you the best aftercare, making sure to rub your sides and stomach. Would give you painkillers and a warm bubbly bath. If you wanted, she would join you. If not then she'd wait until you've finished first.

𖦹 you guys share a bed at this point, so now you both have a small double bed with a super plush mattress and insanely fluffy pillows and massive duvet. Will never keep her hands to herself so expect lazy morning sex or insane makeout sessions.

"Why're you so embarrassed? I've literally seen you naked so there's no need to be shy~" she'd say teasingly while cuddling with you in bed.

"God you're insufferable..!"

Safe to say you two didn't make it to your first class.

#squid game #squid game x reader #squid game season 2 #player 380 x reader #se mi x reader #squid game smut #squid game headcanons #player 380 #ang3ltine

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quandledlngle69 · 1 month ago

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Black!Butler x Blue!Lock

☆ Content: How Blue!Lock boys would be as demon butlers and lords, + demon hound Shidou.

☆ Characters: Micheal Kaiser, Nagi Seishiro, Itoshi Rin, Shidou Ryusei, Reo Mikage, Oliver Aiku, Itoshi Sae, Isagi Yoichi, Meguru Bachira, Barou Shouei, Hiori Yo, Rensuke Kunigami + Wild!card kunigami, Karasu Tabio, Hyoma Chigiri, Alexis Ness.

☆ Genre/Themes/Warnings: Mention of disabled reader and Chigiri in his part, demons, Victorian England, anime, blue lock x black butler, lords and nobles. Angst + slightly suggestive + manipulation + slight mentions of abuse.

☆ Pairing: Demon Butler!Character x Lord!Reader

Demon Butler!Reader x Lord!Character + Demon Hound!Shidou x Lord!Reader.

☆ W.C. 3.1k

Micheal Kaiser could be both, considering his cocky and arrogant behaviour, he would be the perfect demon butler who simply has everything under control. And even though you both share a contract which means he is your servant until the end of your days, it doesn't mean he isnt the one pulling the strings. Although your contract states he has to help you achieve your goal, it doesn't mean he won't manipulate and gaslight you to do it his way. He is a centuries old demon after all, and you trust him fully, as he has never let you down, has he? Yet in the same breath, if you were his demon butler, you would have a headache for how many times you would be rolling your eyes. He truly fits the role of someone who wants and craves to be worshiped and have someone at his beck and call. He is hotheaded and cold, an arrogant, spoiled brat. Everything he does is with a purpose and it's fortunate you can keep up because–well, let's just say he has no use for useless pawns.

Nagi Seishiro would be a Lord. There's no question about it, he would be way too lazy to take care of himself, let alone serving someone left right and centre for the rest of their lives. He would be used to the pampering, especially since he got that way from Reo, so it wouldn't be surprising he would have a butler do everything for him. The only reason you made a contract with him was due to his soul being full of the sin of the sloth, other than that, his soul would be worthless to you. He would be notoriously known as one of those noblemen you hear but you never see. He simply doesn't leave his estate unless he absolutely needs to. Any attempt to have him out of the doors of his manor for any mandatory events would be through bribery. Days are long and boring, your schedule never being fully filled, and you wonder if you should just kill him to end the torture to yourself.

Itoshi Rin would be a Lord. His aura of disdain and driven need and desperation to make his brother acknowledge him or become superior would have any demon following his scent. You were just quicker. It would be a concrete yet impulsive decision on his part. He would only see his butler as a pawn, yet in reality it's him that's the pawn in your game. It's hard to even get a sentence out of him, you had gotten used to the blunt and sour one–word replies. He is simply too blinded by his goal to see the consequences at the end of the game. Yet it almost makes your duties easier, knowing he’ll sacrifice anything without a fuss. He spends most of his days in his office, wanting to not be disturbed. He looks at you with hatred, as most humans would do with demons, yet at the end of the day, he’ll remember the one that came to him in his darkest hour, and he's afraid he’ll realise in due time it was a mistake.

Shidou Ryusei would be a Demon Hound. For some reason, he is one of the only demon hounds that can talk and is extremely intelligent. But do not be mistaken, he is not calm or collected at all. He thrives in complete chaos and simply doesn't care for social etiquette of the 1880’s or your reputation of being a higher class. He is simply a rabid dog you barely keep on a leash until you release him to create complete destruction. That's the whole reason he was able to sniff you out in the first place, because your soul had a malicious ache for chaos, destruction and violence. He had first come to you in the form of a scruffy doberman, watching the satisfaction on your face from burning down your orphanage. When you had managed to inherit back your dead parents estate, you had allowed him to follow you. When you found out what he truly was, you formed a contract for him to protect you. He is more of a guard dog than anything. It's more of you trying to keep him in check then the other way round, but he will obey you, as long as he gets to devour your soul.

Reo Mikage could be both. He would be a perfect butler beside Barou. In his old life, he knew the importance of keeping up a reputation as a noble and how social etiquette works. Everything he does is with a precise eye and is perfect like a cut diamond. He leaves no room for error in his duties and would put any other demon butlers to shame. The reason he was so drawn to your soul was because you longed to be acknowledged by someone who left you in the past to better themselves. Whether it was a love, a friendship, or a family matter, your burning passion was what made Reo sign a contract with you. If Reo was the Lord, however, it would be almost the same story. His soul would burn with an ache not to be left behind, to show a person he truly cared about that he was worthy of being acknowledged, that was Nagi. Since Nagi had a contract, he didn't need Reo anymore. Which clearly shattered him, as he has a need to be depended on. You would be used to show Nagi that Reo is worthy of being acknowledged, and once that goal is fulfilled, his soul is all yours.

Oliver Aiku would be a butler. In his past life, he gave up on making himself bloom and instead, turned to making those who may need him bloom instead, in his own twisted way. Your soul attracted him with your strong goals. No matter what they were, it was passionate enough to have him at your beck and call after signing a contract. You were almost surprised he wasn’t a succubus–though, with the way he shamelessly flirts with all types of women at balls and gatherings. You can count on your fingers and toes how many times you've had to pull him away by the ear to avoid your butler being whisked away for a night of fun. And don't think you're an exception–he’s handsy. In the aspects of his duties, he’ll let you take the lead most of the time, guiding you metaphorically with a firm hand on your lower back. He is the eyes that pick up the subtle obstacles or margins of error and quickly get rid of them, no matter what it takes or who's in his way. He is more casual, and not uptight like most Butlers are, but that doesn't mean he’ll let you off easy. He still needs that passion in your soul to desire devouring it, after all.

Itoshi Sae is both. Yet what is different from him, is that no matter what position he is in, you are always the pawn. And he doesn't hide it either, and there is nothing you can do. As a butler, there is a cold and unpleasant aura that always follows him. You will always be unsettled in his presence. Everything he does is with purpose, yet it's not because he cares, but is only doing it out of direct orders from you or is indirectly linked to the contract. Those who are looking to backstab or exploit you in any way will think twice when Sae is in your presence. He became aware of your soul as you drastically changed your dreams due to something soul shattering you couldn't come back from. It was almost like a reflection of himself, which peaked his interest.

Yet if he was the Lord, he would use everything in his power to fulfil his goal, no matter what pawns he ends up losing. Sometimes even his plans are unpredictable to you, which makes this game even more entertaining. In aspects other than his goal, you spend a lot of time covering for his rude lack of manners and turning down the numerous letters asking for your Lord's hand in marriage. He understands that you will stay by his side until the very end. And until then, the piercing gaze of his teal eyes will always make your eyes squint with desire to devour his soul.

Isagi Yoichi would be a Lord. The growing obsessions of greed for more in his heart had your ears pricking up like a hound dog. His decision would be a long, dragged out process with hesitation like no other. You recognize that he is a clever human, and he won’t be swayed by tricks of any kind. At some point, you believed that you would never gain a contract with Isagi, but with a little more time and persuasive words, you were able to get him to agree to your terms. You are polite and sweet in front of others, making them believe there is nothing going on. You carried out his dirty work, helping Isagi do whatever it takes to achieve his goal, no matter who gets hurt in the process. Isagi’s soul is one in its purest form, something that abnormally hasn't been tainted by the darkness even with his Gluttony. Even though Isagi knows you're a demon, you go to great lengths to keep the most violence and bloodshed away from his eyes. The purer the soul, the sweeter it tastes.

Meguru Bachira would be a Lord. You would be attracted by the loneliness in his soul for a true relationship, something he had felt heavily throughout his life. Something you can give him. It really wasn't that difficult to get him to sign the contract; humans are so fragile when they don't have each other, and clearly he felt it deeper than ever that day. Of course, you would sugarcoat the parts of devouring his soul but–doesn't he want a friend? You eliminate any threats, to his life or to the contract formed. Most days are spent playing games for children or chasing after Meguru playing tag. However you run into the real problems when the marriage proposals come in, and most are denied or taken back after meeting with him, which detriments his spirit even more. Even if everyone else in his life ends up leaving him, or turning on him for a reason out of his control, you will always be there. Even if you are the cause. How else are you supposed to keep the fire of loneliness in his soul sparked?

Barou Shouei would be a butler. And he scares you, if you were being honest. Although he cleans like the contract between you will cease to exist if he doesn't, he has a permanent scowl etched into his features. Even though he is a demon, he has a soft spot for animals and children. NO he will not let you put makeup on him (he will) and he will not hold your shopping bags for you (he most definitely will.) Most people mistake him as your personal bodyguard with how big his frame is. And even more surprised at his domestic habits. And don’t bother trying to find a male suitor anytime soon, Barou will frighten them away, intentionally or not. He found your soul from the burning envy in your heart and the desire to be better and devour others, which in turn makes him want to devour your soul. He reminds you constantly that he is not your friend, while also simultaneously ironing fifty of your shirts over and over again to make sure there are zero creases. An amused smile forms on your face when he does say those words.

Yo Hiori would be a Lord. The pressure from his parents to marry the estranged girl from the other county would cause him to snap. He felt suffocated, almost drowning with this need of perfection and following a path that naturally didn't feel his own. On a cold night of despair, you came to his huddled form in the corner of his room, and whispered the sweetest promises of release and freedom. Everyone expected him to keep up the family line, but what happens when his parents die in a strange fire and he disappears, only to emerge a few months later with a personal butler. You still notice the uneasiness he feels that lingers when he’s around you, the air will always be full of unknown intentions.Occasionally, asks you about heaven and hell, demons and angels, and you tell him as much as you know, supplying his curiosity. You promise to fulfil his wish of freedom in this life, yet his soul will forever be bound to you.

Rensuke Kunigami would be a Lord. Having his dreams crushed, simply realising he is not good enough to keep up with the world he wants to join, he crumples. Yet this is where you come in; you show him another chance, show him the light in which he can strive down, while you eat up the darkness that threatens to consume his light. You simply do his burdensome work as you live in the shadows. His family or friends don't see him much due to his obsession with chasing his dreams–and what kind of butler would you be if you couldn’t make excuses for something as simple as that? He trusts you to a certain extent, a deep part of him believes there is a catch–but there is none. That is, if you don't consider devouring his soul, the catch.

Now, Wildcard Kunigami would be a butler. He notices your soul crumpled with the loss of your dreams, yet for you, this fate only fuels the burning desire to grab it back, no matter what it takes. He is blunt and open with you, he will work hard to make your dreams come true, in place for your soul. He will carry out whatever nasty work you want him to do with a quiet nod of his head. He is more in the headspace of a knight, working to do whatever it takes to protect you and your dreams. He doesn’t do pleasantries or politeness, only what he knows, which is loyalty and fairness.

Karasu Tabito would be a butler. Yet, if you told anyone in the first place why you chose a contract with him, they would laugh. Even Tabito was amused by your reasons to form a contract. When people first see you both together, they assume he is your suitor by his handsome face and charming manner, which to your dislike, he entertains. You had to teach him (yes teach him, your butler) to try and speak with a posh accent, so he doesnt get mistaken for a commoner (it doesn't work, of course.) He can see himself in you with your cocky attitude and arrogant behavior, yet it hides the deep vulnerabilities and insecurities you have with yourself. He sees a reflection of himself in you when he was a mortal himself. You hastily shook his hand to form the contract when your soul had called to him. He had never met a mortal so amusing. It was clear you don't truly understand the depths of your agreement yet Tabito was satisfied with the arrangement. He protects your little secrets and fragile heart, and you give him your soul at the end of your life.

Hyoma Chigiri would be both. If Chigiri was your Lord, be prepared for the restless nights, and frustration that emits off him. His permanently torn ACL triggered despair in his heart, making his soul deliciously wanted. There will be times of purposely spilled cups, plates, bowls, trashed rooms, and thrown insults. Yet if you couldn't handle all of those things, what kind of a butler would you be? At the estate, Chigiri would mostly be using a wheelchair, he mostly refuses to use anything but a cane when out interacting with society, as he doesn't want to be pitied on or seem as less. On his good days, he would be silent and his mind wandering. When he wants to be cheeky, or thinks you're being too slow with your duties, he’ll whack your ankle with his cane, an amused smile crossing his face when you lecture him about minding his manners.

If Chigiri was your butler, however, it would be for the same reasons. You were born with a leg deformity. A congenital limb defect that caused a limp which required a walking stick to help you keep stable. Ever since you were younger you had realised you were different from other kids. You couldn't run, do sports, or even perform basic tasks by yourself. Even finding a husband was impossible, even with your status. You were slowly isolated from others, including your family who gave you secret looks of disgust. It infuriated you, the burning hatred in your soul of being treated differently beckoned him to help you for a price. Chigiri will be your legs, your eyes, your brain and your body. He will do the physical things you can’t do, the physical manifestations of the burning pain you want to cause with the hands you can't do. You may not have the perfect body, but your soul is exquisite to him.

Alexis Ness would be a butler. At the same time, he would be the most pathetic demon butler ever. A demon like him would thrive off being under someone's thumb then being the one in power. A soul so full of ego that it would almost be considered a god complex would have Ness’s tail wagging like a pitiful dog. If he wasn't a demon, he would have many scars on him inflicted by the abuse you cause. He seems to be bewitched by the fact you are far from a good person at all, and teething the edge of being an epitome of a spoiled brat. If you ever want someone to take out your frustration on, his uncanny smile will be compliant. You have only a handful of servants, as they either left due to your tyranny or because of the fact you stuck your nose up at them constantly. The rest were too afraid to leave or naturally had nowhere else to go. Ness would allow you to use him like a dirty cloth, but the minute someone else even tries to challenge or insult you, Ness reminds you why he really is a demon.

☆ Credits for dividers: @fukuonagirl @anitalenia @ioveartfilm

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brionysea · 6 months ago

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when it comes to the umbrella academy, a lot of people seem to think that the first half is great and the second half is terrible. personally, I think only the first *season* is great, or even good. here's why:

the mission statement at the end of season 1 is fixing viktor, but viktor isn't the only broken one, so you can infer that they're all going to have to fix *each other* - as a family, the one thing their abuser never let them be. and the world's burning down around them because of the most dramatic sibling confrontation to ever grace the earth, but they're holding hands and escaping together and surviving the impossible with the intent to move forward, even if that means momentarily moving backwards. it's a masterful allegory for finally growing up, accepting responsibility for your personal trauma and tragedy and how they shaped you, and the moment you take that power back by choosing to heal your inner child, only after being slapped in the face with the fact that if you don't, it *will* destroy everything you've ever built, ever cared about, and ever could.

and then the rest of the show forgets all of it. as it were, it goes in the *exact opposite direction.*

on the surface, the second season isn't *as* bad as the subsequent ones are. but season 3 and 4's faults can be traced back to season 2 by how it pivoted away from the serious subject matter that the story (not the plot - the *story*) was heavily baked in, leaning hard into the goofier elements instead, without ever understanding the contrast that those conflicting elements served to highlight. it made them both more powerful; the jokes were funnier because you were just devastated, and the trauma was more devastating because you were just in tears laughing. the emotional roller coaster is key to understanding these people, and you *have* to take the serious stuff seriously for it to work. at least half of the show doesn't, and as a result, the emotional moments feel hollow.

controversial opinion: as a character, luther is better in season 1 than he is anywhere else. he's more unlikable, but that's because he's implicitly there to show what *not* to do - even if he'd succeeded narratively by locking viktor up and saving the world, he still failed thematically by emulating their father and continuing the cycle of abuse - so luther's a character that's being very effectively used to add to the core theme of the story. he feels like a real, frustrating person, whose brain chemistry got messed up by years of abuse and isolation, all for the crime of thinking his father loved him and wanted the best for him. not like a made up guy on your screen doing silly stuff solely for your entertainment.

season 2 was also the start of the characters getting love interests instead of storylines, which season 1 never would have *dreamed* of; klaus and dave's tragic romance only served to further klaus's character arc, viktor's creepy boyfriend was actually manipulating him the whole time, five's fractured-psyche-mannequin was a narrative tool to let us see into the head of such an emotionally reticent character, and so on. the romance served the character, but fairly quickly into the show's progression, it felt like the character started serving the romance. five was immune to this curse for a long time due to aidan gallagher's age, which is why he's (for the most part) the best, most consistent character across the show, because they had to use their *imagination* for him and actually *write an arc* instead of falling back on tired romance tropes that any selection of characters could slot into to fill the dead space.

after season 1, the umbrella academy is entertaining, but it doesn't have anything to *say.* which is extremely disappointing when the show initially made such a strong case for what it wanted to be.

#the umbrella academy #tv: tua

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yoonieper · 18 days ago

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For the Birds— Part 6 | JJK

I want you to stay even though you don’t want me.

♡ Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (feat. Yuri)

♡ Genre: angst, smut, future fluff!, this chapter is pretty much pWITHp (can be read alone, however you will be a tiny bit confused)~

♡ Rated: I for Indulge

♡ Series Warnings: Lots of smut (not always healthy), cheating, discussions of depression, this series includes Jk in a pretty toxic environment, degradation (not the sexy kind), manipulation, and overall Jk being in an emotionally abusive situation!

♡ Chapter Warnings: smoking, alcohol, vague mentions of su*cidal thoughts, discussions about depression, vague allusions to substance abuse (alcohol), a few emotional breakdowns, a drop of subby Jk (truly a drop), handjob, slight dom Jk makes an appearance, oral (m + f), a hand goes over a mouth (;D), a hint of voyeurism, protected and unprotected sex

♡ Word Count: 19.7k

♡ Summary: As the son of the CEO at Golden Tech, a marriage was arranged in the name of business. Jungkook really tried to make the most of his situation and be the best husband he could be, but no matter how much he tried, his wife just doesn’t seem to want him. Then you… you came into his life and his eyes couldn’t help but wander.

♡ Now Playing: goosebumps by Travis Scott— see masterlist for playlist!

♡ Beta: Thank you so much to @mellowladyanchor @iutint @pearinwords for reading this part for me! If you’re interested in betaing a future part, dm me! If you're interested in becoming a permanent beta for this series please first click here and refer to 'details about the job' section for more details and dm for any questions you might have! Betas get early access to chapters, so if you're free to help out and can't wait for next chapter, consider joining the team!!!

♡ Author’s Note: Office Sexcapades Part 2! First series shift coming next chapter~ Just a fair warning, this series is about to take a dip, specifically regarding mental health— once again a reminder that if that is a sensitive subject for you please be cautious when reading the following chapters! And sorry to everyone once again for the extreme delay trying to get this out! Life happens :')

No reposting, modifying. Translating is not allowed unless given explicit permission. Thank you so much : D

previous chapter « main masterlist ✩ series masterlist » coming...?

Jungkook’s days had a tendency to go badly the very minute he opened his eyes. It was either Yuri, work, himself, or the most miniscule obstacle that even Jungkook could have never predicted. At this point, it was a curse he deserved considering everything about his shameful existence. Simply waking up was all it took for the world to start throwing shit at him for its sick pleasure just to see if he’d make it through the day. It was exhausting and today proved to be no exception to the torture.

Jungkook woke up, made himself a little coffee, went to the gym, came back to shower, got dressed, then headed to work. Dae-Jung dropped him off in the garage, which had been something his dad always told him was the quickest way to go instead of through the main lobby. He’d skipped too many workouts, so in turn he asked his driver to let him out towards the back for the opportunity to get in his much needed extra steps. He bid farewell to Dae-Jung and then he steadily weaved his way through the sea of cars, mindlessly heading toward the door thinking about what he needed to do today, when bam— you were standing right in front of him getting out of the passenger seat of some random vehicle.

It only took a second for his confusion and amusement at the situation to turn into something even he didn’t understand. With his luck with the universe, he should have known it wasn’t just going to be a funny coincidence you two could laugh about later.

Jungkook watched, unbeknownst to you both, as you got out of the car first before Kim Taehyung emerged from the driver's seat. You were smiling, so was he, and Jungkook noticed as you started making your way inside a certain look in both of your eyes, an uneasy comfortability, that made him remember the fact that you two had dated before.

The minute the door closed behind the both of you, Jungkook felt his blood boil to a temperature he was sure rivaled the sun. His relatively moderate mood at the time transformed into something monstrous and hideous. He had practically stormed in soon after you made it inside. He had no idea why he was so upset. Nothing had happened— nothing had happened, so why the fuck were you with Taehyung?

Jungkook was never the best at hiding his emotions, so the minute Jimin walked in his office later that day, it was apparent by the pout on his face that he had an attitude.

“What’s wrong with you?” Jimin tried to be lighthearted, but considering the situation Jungkook was in, it was hard to know how serious the issue might be. What if this was about Yuri?

Jungkook looked up at him and then went back to staring off into space. “Hyung, is it normal for a guy to drive a girl to work?” It was the first thing he said to him, and it was certainly not what Jimin had expected to come out of his mouth. He stopped in his tracks, feeling uneasy about the question.

“Ummm… what’s their relationship?” Jimin asked, rolling with it. He came in here with a work question originally, but it seemed it could wait for the moment.

“They say they’re friends.” Jungkook mumbled shamefully. He couldn’t even look his hyung in the eye confidently. It sounded nonsensical even to his own ears.

Jimin almost wanted to laugh, but then he grew more worried wondering where this question was coming from.

“Why are you asking? Don’t tell me, Yuri—” Jimin’s mind was always quick to go there. It had every reason to.

“No— no, I just watched this movie and saw people debating about it.” Jungkook quickly came up with the lame excuse on the spot. He didn’t know what to feel— better that it wasn’t about Yuri, or worse because it wasn’t about Yuri. He felt pathetic.

“Oh… well, in that case, probably not. Someone definitely has feelings, maybe one or both of them,” Jimin giggled at that. He had a lot more experience in the romantic department, so Jungkook really took his advice to heart. It was a little ironic considering he was the man who had been married for nearly four years.

Jungkook tried his best to stay calm. He didn’t want to jump to any conclusions, but you had literally told him with your own mouth that you and Taehyung had dated before. He’d seen too many movies and dramas depicting exes rekindling their relationships after previously complicated circumstances in their lives had prevented them from being together at the time. Maybe you two have matured and are finally ready to embrace each other again in the way you couldn’t beforehand. Just because you both did date in the past doesn’t mean things needed to end between you two. But that very thought made a weird wave of emotion wash over him— sadness, anger? He wasn’t quite sure, and he was even more unsure why he was having a reaction in the first place. You might be embroiled with him in an affair, but your life was your business, not his, and he had no right to care. Right? Right…?

He kept trying to reassure himself, but the minute he came out of a meeting and saw the two of you together smiling and laughing as you always did, he couldn’t get the thought out of his head for some reason.

He just didn’t like Taehyung— Taehyung just… Why was he always there?! He was a problem, and Jungkook was confused why you didn’t see it. His own conflicted feelings pissed him off even more and just seeing you— you— why were you doing this to him?

When the meeting ended, he got out of there as fast as he could. The minute he made it back to his office, Jungkook sent you a text asking to meet him in the storage room, but not before grabbing what he needed out of his desk first.

It hadn’t been too long after Jungkook had arrived when you knocked twice and he opened the door. You had been in relatively good spirits before you walked in, that was until you saw the slightly dazed, but pouty look on Jungkook’s face when he guided you inside.

“You ok?” you asked hesitantly when he closed the door behind you. You honestly weren’t in the mood to fight with him today.

Jungkook didn’t say anything, but slowly nodded his head.

He was fine? Yep, you didn’t believe that for one second, but if he didn’t want to talk about it, you didn’t either.

“Well, in that case, I wanted to say I was actually a little glad you called me in here. All these meetings, graphs, spreadsheets, Excel— I’m honestly done with it all. I’m frazzled. It was so bad yesterday that I overslept and Taehyung had to pick me up this morning or else I would have been late,” you sighed, rubbing your temples to quell the stress.

You unintentionally had given Jungkook a rationale for what he saw this morning, but it hadn’t really solved the problem. Because why did you need to ask Taehyung when the route he takes to work isn’t too far from your apartment? You could have easily asked him to take you. For some reason, Jungkook’s brain didn’t take into account that you didn’t know that and instead focused on the fact that Taehyung had been your knight in shining armor, saving you from dealing with public transportation when you were already late. The thought just didn’t sit right with him for some reason.

“Anyway, I’ve been stressed, and I know this arrangement is mainly about you, but I was hoping you might be able to help me take the edge off,” you sighed, feeling a little embarrassed asking.

Jungkook had no idea what that meant and was too distracted by the fact that you wanted him for something to even try to figure it out. He tried his best to keep his cool. You wanted him!

When Jungkook didn’t say anything back and continued to have this dopey look on his face, you wondered if he understood what you said.

“Jungkook?” you questioned.

“Hmm—” it managed to snap him out of it a little bit.

“You do know what I meant, right?” you finally asked when he still hadn’t done anything.

“Oh— ummmm…” He was a bit clueless it seemed. You were far too prideful to ask him outright, so instead you took initiative and made your way over to the table.

You didn’t turn around as you started undoing your pants— it was extra cold today, so you went with pants instead of the skirts you’d usually wear. In hindsight, if you had known he was going to call you in here today, you probably wouldn’t have worn them. Your cheeks burned as you pulled them down, set them on the table beside you, and kicked off your heels. You put on your best straight face, not wanting him to know how embarrassed you felt, before hopping up on the table.

Even in the dark, you could see Jungkook’s bewildered gaze, his eyes wide, and you wondered if he was blushing like he always did.

“You get what I mean now?” The lilt in your voice made it obvious that you were teasing him, but you also couldn’t deny that you were a little impatient. You smiled at him as you spread your legs a little, hoping that would entice him enough to beckon him more quickly.

It was hard to see anything in the dark, but the glimmer of light that seeped in from underneath the door outlined your body in a way that had him practically drooling as he stared at you. Sometimes it was hard to believe how pretty you were, even when he could hardly see you.

Jungkook made his way over quickly and once he got close, it dawned on him what exactly you were asking from him.

“So, are you just going to stand there?” you asked softly, your eyes staring up at him innocently, yet the way your leg began to rake up his own made tingles spread through his whole body in a flurry.

Jungkook was quick to close the distance between you two. The longer he kissed you, the more and more it dawned on him that you had asked him to do this for you, not Taehyung— fuck Taehyung. You had gone to him in a time of need and suddenly that thought made the flame grow all-consuming.

He wanted to have you. Jungkook was down on his knees soon after, lightly kissing and sucking along the expanse of your thighs. With the extra skin exposed, so soft, so warm, he didn’t know how to act.

Jungkook treated you well. He always did, when he wasn’t cursing your very existence, and as he drew orgasm after orgasm from you just like you wanted, you felt the stress wash away the longer he was between your legs. He seemed especially focused on you despite his needs being the reason he called you in here, and in between the moments he was a major dick, you had to admit he was actually very sweet. He was so attentive, and in the short time you’d been doing this, you felt like he already knew your body so well.

Moments like this made you wonder how ten months could have passed without his wife doing something, anything with him. You didn’t want to speculate too much— that wasn’t really your business and you didn’t know their relationship enough to make any type of accusations. But unless Jungkook was leaving a big part of the story out, you just couldn’t understand her.

Your mind grew fuzzy at some point, you ended up losing count of how many times he made you cum when you hit your limit— you still had to be able to walk out of here after all. You finally pulled him away, and you could see his face glistening despite the darkness in the room. It was a sinful sight that made a wave of electricity run right through you.

When Jungkook finally lifted himself to his feet once again, you saw the quick way he glanced down before looking into your eyes. Right, of course you couldn’t forget about him.

“Mmmm, just go slow. I have to make it back to my desk somehow.” It was sort of a joke, but you also legitimately feared that if you did anything more, Jungkook might need to help you to your desk, and you were sure people would ask questions.

Jungkook quickly nodded before fishing out the condom he grabbed from his desk earlier. Truth be told, he had to go slow or he probably wouldn’t even last a minute. He had wanted to focus on you, and he relished in the pretty sounds you made as you ran your fingers through his hair. However, it got him so worked up that when you tugged on his strands particularly hard while you came on his tongue again, he nearly finished right along with you. Somehow he had held it off, but at this point, he felt like he was only a trigger hair away from losing it.

Slow and steady was definitely the way to go. The minute Jungkook wrangled the condom on, he was inside you moving at a nice, comfortable, steady pace. His strokes were languid, seemingly trying to pay close attention to the way he moved; deep, gentle, and lazily rhythmic, each glide made your toes curl. He filled you up in all the right places and it was so soft how all his attention was on your gaze. If you didn’t know any better, you would have said it was incredibly romantic. But alas, in reality you were getting fucked at your workplace by your superior who was a married man. Nothing screams romance more than that.

Despite his efforts to try to go at a steady pace, he still wasn’t able to last long with the way you squeezed around him. You were so slick from your previous activities, and your warmth made it frustratingly easy to give in. Suddenly, Jungkook came, nearly knocking the wind out of himself in the process as he worked his way through it.

By the end, you both were just trying to catch your breath. You knew you had to leave soon. You had been gone far too long and you knew someone would start looking for you soon.

Jungkook moved away to throw away the condom while you worked on getting your pants on again. Suddenly, his voice cut through the growing silence. “By the way, my way to work isn’t too far from your apartment. If you ever need a ride in the morning, you can just text and ask.” You didn’t notice the blush that had spread across his cheeks.

You laughed. “And what would people think if they saw us getting out of the same car together? Just to save us the trouble of being bombarded with questions, I’ll only come to you if Taehyung isn’t available— but hopefully that won’t even happen anyway because, crossing my fingers, by New Year’s I’ll have my own car and I won’t have to worry about that anymore,” you tried to smile.

“Right… I almost forgot,” he laughed, nervously fluffing his hair.

“You were the one who helped me, remember…?” You were a little surprised you needed to remind him considering it had only been a few days ago.

“Right… right, I’m sorry,” he was always so quick to apologize.

“There’s no need to apologize,” you mumbled.

It hadn’t been long since that meeting where you had ended up being a tiny bit late due to being stuck in traffic for what felt like forever. Luckily for you, unlike the times you’d gone on your own, the fact that Jungkook hadn’t arrived meant that nothing could start without him there, so by the time you burst through the doors, you really hadn’t missed anything.

On the way back, you had asked Jungkook about all the car stuff that had been bouncing around in your head since you started your research. You first made sure to remind him that unlike him, you weren’t the son of a trillion-won tech company’s CEO and you couldn’t get just anything. Surprisingly, Jungkook gave you some pretty insightful advice about what to look for and possible features you might be able to add within your budget. He even recommended a few brands to research further. It had definitely helped refine your search and now you were close to having something picked out and ready to move on to the next stage.

It was odd that he apparently forgot this had happened, but you didn’t want to get on him too much considering everything that was going on. Everyone was busy moving toward the end of the last quarter, and you could only imagine what other things he was dealing with that would cause the memory to leave his mind so easily.

•────•──────────•────•

“Mom?” You questioned as you answered the call.

“Oh? So my daughter finally decided to pick up the phone.” Her tone was so deadpan you knew you were one of the only people who could’ve picked up on the sarcasm and humor in her voice.

“I’m sorry…” You sighed, but a smile still remained on your face.

“You decide to move to Seoul and ever since then it’s almost impossible to get a hold of you anymore,” she mumbled, and in the background you could hear the faint sound of something hitting up against the metal bowl she would always cook in.

“We just talked last week.” You reminded her.

“Last week…” you heard her scoff. “I should be able to talk to my daughter whenever I please!”

At this point, you couldn’t stop the laughter knowing how dramatic your mom could be at times. “I’m sorry, mom.”

She scoffed again. “Where even are you right now?”

You pulled your jacket a little closer to your body as the cool breeze seeped even further into your skin. “I’m walking to the subway station. You called me as soon as I left the office.”

“At this time of night?!” She exclaimed scoldingly. You couldn’t blame her considering it was almost nine o’clock.

“I’ve been busy these days…” You simply settled not wanting to get into the details. Your mom knew about your work troubles to a certain extent. She knew about your frustrating boss and how that situation arose because you spilled coffee on him on your first day, but you kept the more painful details to yourself. She worries about you enough as it is and the last thing you wanted to tell her was how much you were suffering because of a mistake. You had been so eager to let her know about the improvement in your relationship following your promotion, you hadn’t found the heart to tell her things had gone south again.

Of course she also doesn’t know about the affair either, how you were now sleeping with the Jeon Jungkook you used to rant to her about until the early morning hours. It was still hard to admit to yourself that it was happening, and even though you knew your mom wouldn’t say anything to anyone about it, you couldn’t bear the humiliation you’d inevitably feel if you told her.

“Is that why you never answer my calls anymore?”

“I’m sorry I’ve been so busy…” You sighed.

“You’ve always been busy. All you ever do is work; you’ve been like this since you were young. Most parents have to pester their kids to do their homework, but you’d already have it done before me or your dad made it home. You’d always be sitting at your desk with your head in your books already looking into the next week’s material.” She absentmindedly reminisced. You couldn’t help but laugh, your mom’s words hitting you with a wave of nostalgia you weren’t prepared for. You could never forget your nights working at your little green desk in the corner of your room. It sat right beside your window that provided a comforting view of the Busan cityscape, and if you squinted hard enough, you could even see the water despite how far inland your house resided.

It was typically just you in the house for a few hours after you’d get home from school, both of your parents still out and busy hard at work. As soon as you made it home you were dropping your things off, taking a seat at your desk, and getting straight into work. Even while you were younger you didn’t want your grades to be another worry your parents would have to constantly think about, so you always felt the need to take initiative and work hard. It always made you so happy to see your parent’s shocked faces when they would get back from their second or third jobs and you would tell them you had finished all your homework and you were getting a head start on looking into what your teacher said you’d be covering in the following week. You lived for their pleasantly surprised faces, and from an early age, you made it your mission for them to continue to be proud of you.

“I have to be busy so I can earn a lot of money.” You reminded her.

“It’s always money with you… you’re just like your dad. Will you ever forget work and visit your family again?”

“You know I’ll be going back a month from now. Plus, how else am I supposed to get you guys really nice Christmas presents?”

“But that’s too far away. Who cares about Christmas presents when I haven’t seen my daughter since you came home for my birthday, and that was three months ago at this point.”

“I know…” The guilt creeping in made your cheeks burn. You all were really close and even though it's been years since you’ve moved away from your little house in Busan, you used to always try and make time to visit home whenever you could, no matter how busy you were sometimes…

“Your dad’s been sad you’re not visiting this year for his birthday. We’ve been having all his favorite dishes this week just to try and cheer him up.” You giggled at your mom’s words. Your dad could be even more dramatic than your mom sometimes, especially when it came to you.

“Is that what you’re working on right now?”

“Mhmmm. We’re having agujjim (spicy braised monkfish) today,” she said absentmindedly, likely focused on the next step in her internal recipe book. Just the mention of it had your mouth watering, and for a split second you debated if you could somehow take the train back home and make it back in time for work in the morning.

“Tell him I’ll be sure to call him on Friday to try and make up for it.”

“You should call me back when you make it home. I’m sure your dad would like to hear that from you himself.” Your mom mentioned.

You were immediately about to object, but the longer you thought about it, the more you realized there was no reason why you couldn’t besides being exhausted from your work day. Plus, you really had been busy lately so your phone calls home were few and far between.

“I’ll try and see if I can, but no promises.”

“I talked to your dad right before I called you, and he said he will be here in about thirty minutes. I’m expecting your call sometime after that.” Your mom was serious once again, but you knew there would be no hard feelings if you didn’t end up calling.

Your parents know you best in how much you consume yourself with work (though in more recent years that hasn’t been on your own volition), so situations like this weren't exactly new. They were always your biggest cheerleaders in your life, and you could never forget how proud they were of you when you told them you got your job Golden Tech, and they nearly fainted when you mentioned your promotion a few months ago.

“Tell dad I love him if you don’t hear from me in the next hour.”

“Mmmm, and what are your plans after work tomorrow?”

You thought about it. “I’m actually leaving a little early to get my nails done after work.”

“I see. I’m still expecting your call later, but if not, call us afterward tomorrow and make sure I get a picture of your nails.” Your mom added. She always loved to see them whenever you’d mention you got them done.

“Will do.”

“Alright then. Be careful on your way home. It’s late, so if you’re not calling, be sure to text me when you make it back home.”

You grinned. “Alright, mom. I’ll talk to you later. Any longer and I might miss the next train.”

“You better,” her seriousness was back, making your smile grow wider.

“I will, don’t worry… Bye mom~”

“Bye.”

And with that you clicked off and picked up your pace. You were only a block away, but you still found yourself hurrying. The last thing you wanted to do was have to wait for the next train, it was already late.

It just had your mind traveling back to Jeon Jungkook and how it was all his fault that you were at work for so long. He just made your blood boil, yet at the same time…

You shook your head hurriedly. No Jungkook thoughts after work.

It was easy to say that, but as you hurried your way for some reason his face continued to follow you even as you sped down the stairs of the subway station. He pissed you off, he really did. Why was he always in your head?

•────•──────────•────•

You were on your way back to your desk when you spotted Jungkook by the meeting room. At first you were going to speed right past, coming to the quick conclusion that he was preparing for the upcoming meeting later on, but something just seemed… off. He was pacing in front of the doorway and the look in his eyes, even from far away, made your passing gaze linger on him with concern.

Just as you were about to walk by the hallway, your feet stopped you entirely. The longer you looked the more worried you became. Even still, the panic didn’t set in until you got a little closer.

“Director Jeon?” you called out hesitantly.

The minute Jungkook turned around, you could truly process the fear in his eyes. You had never seen him look so distressed, only rivaling that first night you shared in his office. His eyes were looking at you, but it was like he was staring right through your very being. What was going on?

“Jungkook, what’s wrong?” you said, far more seriously, grabbing him so he’d look at you. Your stomach dropped when you felt him shaking in your grasp.

“Uhhh— this— um— this presentation, I—” Jungkook stumbled over his words and seeing how disheveled he was, you knew you had to get him out of there. You looked around worriedly at all the people passing by.

You quickly told him to meet you in the storage room and said you’d be in a few minutes after. Jungkook didn’t fight you on it, instead he just steadily headed over in that direction while you walked in the other. You both knew you couldn’t be seen with each other, so the extra time allowed you to quickly show your face to your team and drop something off in your office before heading out to join Jungkook.

You knocked twice, waited a second, then knocked twice again— something you’d easily gotten into the habit of doing by now. When Jungkook opened the door, he still seemed just as distraught as he had when you parted ways. You hastily made your way inside to figure out what was going on.

Before you could really even get in the room, you saw Jungkook fall back against the door and sink to the floor. His breathing was shallow, so shallow you were worried he was moments away from passing out. His fingers quickly threaded into his hair and even in the dark, you could see how tight his grip was. You didn’t say anything at first, instead moving to take a seat right next to him.

“Deep breaths,” you said as you looked at him worriedly.

Jungkook quickly reached for your hand and you let him squeeze it tightly. He wasn’t looking at you and you were worried he didn’t hear your words before, so you called his name again and started taking slow, deep breaths to get him to follow along.

Jungkook’s eyes darted towards yours, and after a little while, he attempted to join you. It was like he had run a marathon with how out of breath he seemed.

“I can’t— Y/n— I can’t,” he cried, and you held onto him tightly as you tried to calm him down a little. You rubbed reassuring circles on his hand as he tried to slow his breathing down. It took some time, but eventually you both got in sync. You didn’t stop, scared that the minute you did, Jungkook would go back to square one.

It was Jungkook who finally halted doing the breathing exercises and pulled away before bringing his knees close and resting his head in his arms. You placed your hand on his back, feeling him shaking slightly still.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” Your voice was calm as you looked over at him. “We have a little bit of time before the meeting starts. We could just sit in silence if that’s what you prefer.”

Jungkook leaned his head back.

“I used to not be like this— I don’t know what’s happening to me. I’ve given countless presentations in the past and I was fine. But these days, I don’t know— when I see their eyes it feels like they can see through everything and—” Jungkook was teary as he spoke, and things just grew worse.

“How am I ever going to run this company if I can’t even stand in front of people to give this stupid presentation?!” It was a thought he had never told anyone, his growing fear about becoming the CEO one day. He didn’t want to say anything because he was embarrassed. He wanted people to have high expectations of him, but he wasn’t even meeting his own these days.

This wasn’t even a big presentation. It was just a review of what the teams had already accomplished and what everyone needed to get done before the holidays. It wasn’t major, but there were going to be a lot of people there, representatives from all the departments and a few higher-up executives to check in and see how things were going. It should be simple, he’d done this presentation a countless number of times, but this year for some reason, just the thought of everyone sitting there and staring at him, only him—

It felt like that nightmare all over again; the executives judgingly peering at him, degrading him as he shamelessly took you on the table.

It had already been bad the last time he just had to go up there and say a few things when you did your presentation together. In that case, however, Jungkook only needed to chime in occasionally and give a little extra insight while you did almost everything. This time you weren’t going to be up there for him to hide behind. He had to stand there all alone, everyone’s eyes would be on him and—

The feeling of your hand moving on top of his tore him away from his rushing thoughts. Jungkook looked down at them, then back up to meet your smiling eyes.

Instead of saying anything, he threaded his fingers between yours.

“Their— their eyes are so scary. I know they’ll see everything,” his tears finally spilled over. You noticed the little light seeping in and reflecting off the wetness that began to stain his cheeks.

He was shaking really, really badly. It reminded you of the fateful day your affair had started. His sad, watery eyes were peering into your own, practically pleading for help. It contrasted with the Jungkook you had begun to grow familiar with, the one who would get mad at you for no reason other than the fact that you existed. But this felt like the real Jungkook. Behind all the anger was someone so broken, it was almost hard to watch.

You had seen his presentations in the past. Most of the time it was just executives who would be present, so for a while it was only on rare occasions had you’d seen Jungkook actually having to lead meetings. You had hated Jungkook at the time, but it was one of the few moments your hatred would dim and be replaced by a sliver of admiration. He was good. He would always be cool, calm, and concise when he talked, elaborating his points well whenever needed, and answering questions with just as much care and attention. It made his panic today seem even crazier when you thought back on what he was like just a year ago. It made you want to ask what had happened. You tried not to ask him too many questions, allowing him to tell you things only if he wanted to. After a little bit of thinking, you ultimately decided against it, figuring that if he wanted to tell you, he would.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do. I know I’ll get up there and will be shaking so much, everyone will hear it in my voice, just like last time— I’m so fucking pathetic.” And his fear just got worse. He couldn’t hide. They’d see him, they’d see everything— how incapable he was. He was a fucking mess and all his coworkers would see it.

“Don’t say you’re pathetic,” you finally interjected, hating how much he said that sometimes.

“I am, I can’t—!”

“Shhhh!” you squeezed his hand tightly. “Don’t say you can’t, because you can. I’ve seen you up there before.”

Jungkook sadly laughed at that. “That was before, but now I can’t—”

“No— I’m not going to sit here and let you continue to say these bad things about yourself. Nothing good will come from doing that. You can do this, okay?” You were stern, yet reassuring all at the same time.

Jungkook just stared at you wide-eyed for a second before he leaned his head back against the door. “It just looks so easy for you. You’re always so amazing when you’re up there. How do you do it?” he sighed, staring off into the darkness of the storage room.

It was now your turn to get a little flustered, but you quickly pushed the feeling aside to get back to the point. “Well, it just took a lot of practice. Presentations used to be a daunting task back when I was in school, but I picked up a lot of tips, tricks, and advice over the years that really helped me. I’m not a professional or anything, but I know that anxiety with public speaking can sometimes stem from other problems and stressors you might be dealing with. Considering you said you didn’t used to be like this, I would say that might be your issue.”

Jungkook sat back and thought about it. That would make a lot of sense actually. “You’re probably right. I haven’t felt good in years, but this year in particular… things have gotten considerably worse.” His voice wavered at the end at the mere thought of it.

“We could talk about it if you like?” you mentioned softly.

Jungkook slowly shook his head. “Not enough time, and just…” He shook his head again.

“That’s fine. We could sit here and continue to take deep breaths together. Maybe it’ll help you calm down.” You would sometimes do a little meditation whenever you had a big presentation coming up and you were particularly nervous. Though what Jungkook was going through went beyond just the jitters, it couldn’t hurt to try it out.

Jungkook steadily nodded, closed his eyes, and turned his attention to focus on slowing his breathing.

He really had needed this. From the very minute he woke up this morning, the shaking had already started. He had so badly wanted Yuri to do something to take away the anxiety; even simply being a listening ear to his nervous ranting would have helped.

Yuri had been around at the apartment that morning. Maybe she had no work plans and none of her friends were pulling her to hang out so early in the morning like they usually would on her free days. He wasn’t sure the exact reason, but he was happy she was home.

Jungkook’s hands had been shaking so badly, he nearly spilled his cereal trying to bring the spoon up to his mouth. Yuri had asked what was wrong with him because of how jumpy he was, but the minute he mentioned the presentation, she had simply rolled her eyes at him.

“Isn’t that your job? Why in the world would you be so nervous?” She sounded so disappointed. She had every right to be, and it wasn’t even like she was wrong. It was his job; presentations weren’t new to him. Why was he so nervous?

Jungkook couldn’t muster up the courage to say anything else after that, knowing all too well that if he continued, things might get so bad he wouldn’t even be able to leave his apartment. Instead, he tried his best to steady his increasingly shaky hand while he ate.

Honestly, Jungkook feared what might have happened if you hadn't pulled him into the storage room. He didn’t know why he had been outside of the meeting room. His racing mind had grown more and more anxious as time grew closer to the meeting. Somehow, his feet had carried him to the room where it would all be going down, not even to prepare, but to pace and pace because the shaking just wouldn’t stop and it was getting overwhelming.

Jungkook probably would have broken down right there, causing a horrible scene in front of anyone who passed by, but thankfully you had pulled him out of his daze and helped him plant his feet on the ground again.

“Inhale,” you said softly. Jungkook took a deep breath in, letting his lungs fill with as much air as they could hold.

A few seconds passed before you continued. “And exhale.” It was just as soft as before and Jungkook finally released the breath he had been holding. The air escaped shakily, but it still felt like a weight was being lifted off of his shoulders.

Inhale…

…

Exhale…

…

Inhale…

…

Exhale…

…

Inhale…

…

Exhale…

…

Along the way, Jungkook started paying more attention to the way you breathed. He tried his best to follow along with your calm, deep breaths in, followed by a long exhale. He was shaking, but gradually he was able to calm himself enough to follow your steady breathing a little more easily.

Breathing should have been his sole focus, but he realized his worried thoughts were also growing calmer as he thought about you beside him. You were too nice, far too nice for someone like him. He didn’t deserve it, he knew that’s what Yuri would say, yet for some reason you were down here with him on the floor trying to help him meditate.

At some point, he just had to open his eyes again to look over at you. Your eyes were closed as you calmly breathed in and out. You looked so relaxed and… wow, you were so pretty. Even in the dark your beauty managed to pierce through the black you both sat in, and your bewitching presence relaxed him even further. His face warmed at the sight and an overwhelming emotion filled his heart and squeezed it so tight he almost couldn’t breathe. It was a feeling he’d never experienced before, one so consuming that for once, Jungkook put overthinking aside and acted on impulse before he could stop himself.

It completely caught you by surprise, the feeling of his hand on your chin. You nearly jumped, but you quickly relaxed when you opened your eyes and saw it was just Jungkook. You glanced down at his hand before staring back up into his eyes. A new look had settled behind his gaze, one you were completely unfamiliar with.

Jungkook let his hand cup your cheek before he moved a little closer so there was hardly any distance in between you two. His gaze wasn’t meeting your own anymore. Instead, he was peering down at your lips.

His thumb brushed lightly against your cheek, so soft, as he always was. You hated the way your heart tightened.

“Is this ok?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

Your body didn’t even give you the chance to think about it before you nodded. It was all Jungkook needed to finally close the gap between you two. This time was different. It reminded you of the very first time he kissed you— it wasn’t lustful, it wasn’t out of anger or frustration— it was… it was…

You loved the way his lips moved against yours. He was so gentle, and his soft sighs anytime he’d pull away to breathe were addicting. You loved the way he held you, so tenderly— no, this wasn’t right. What was going on?

You kissed him a little harder, picking up the pace a little to bring things back into more familiar territory. Jungkook didn’t stop you, instead welcoming the way you kissed him more passionately. You normally never took the time to just make out like this, always quick to get to the main event. But Jungkook was a really good kisser. He let you take the lead, allowing your tongue to eagerly explore his mouth. He was always so skilled and receptive.

You grew hot pretty quickly and you could imagine Jungkook was the same way as one hand flew to your waist and the one that rested on your cheek pulled you even closer. It gave you an idea. As much as you didn’t want to, you finally pulled away.

“Jungkook…” you said, your breath labored.

Jungkook hated each second you spent apart and pressed light kisses across your cheek. “Mhmmm…” he practically moaned into your skin.

You had to resist just completely melting in his grasp.

“I can’t help with your nerves directly, but maybe there’s something I can do to better take your mind off things if you��ll let me,” you mentioned in between the kisses he kept planting on your cheek and lips. At this, Jungkook finally pulled away, seemingly interested.

You let the silence pass for a little while.

“Orgasms always helped me de-stress,” you smiled shyly at him, maybe a little too innocently considering what you had just proposed. You saw the way he steadily processed your words in his mind.

“Maybe.” He was beating himself up for somehow finding himself here with you once again, but you always did relax him. “I didn’t bring a condom though. I didn’t—”

You shook your head. “I don’t think we have enough time to go all the way anyway.” You glanced at your watch and once it lit up you saw that there were only twenty minutes before the meeting was about to start.

Jungkook looked up at you, worry painted all over his features again.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” you reassured, placing your hand against his cheek.

Jungkook seemed dazed as he stared into your eyes, before he quickly nodded his head. You smiled and shakily got up to your feet.

“Stand up,” you lightly commanded, not really wanting to suck him off on the floor. He did as you asked and before anything more could be said, you moved him toward the side of the wall so he wouldn’t bang against the door. With something a little more solid behind him now, you finally took the opportunity to pin him against the wall.

Your height difference wasn’t much when you had your heels on, but even then, he was still a little taller than you. You doubted you looked that intimidating, but you nearly giggled when you saw the look on his face as you stepped closer.

You made quick work of sliding your hand onto his waist and settling the other on his cheek. You smiled before planting light kisses across his warm skin and eventually guided yourself up to his meet ear. You brushed away his hair and being this close it only then dawned on you that Jungkook had not one, but two sets of shiny hoops in his ears that you had never really noticed before.

“I promise to make this quick,” you whispered softly before planting a kiss right on his ear.

“Fuck,” Jungkook moaned as he quickly pulled you back to meet his lips. The position was hot, and you weren’t the only one who thought so. He’d never been pinned like this before and he certainly couldn’t say he hated it. No, if anything—

“F-fuck!” he panted as you moved down to suck on his neck. You were always careful about not leaving any marks. Jungkook was clumsy sometimes, but you knew the right balance of giving pleasure without going too far. It had Jungkook mewling as he embarrassingly started grinding into you slightly. He was subtle, but the friction combined with your mouth was enough to get him hard in no time.

The minute you noticed him chasing his hips into yours was when you figured it was time to move on to the next stage.

You kissed his lips one more time before dropping down to your knees. First, you checked the time again— fifteen more minutes. You really needed to be fast.

His belt and zipper came undone in a flash. Since he was standing this time, you tried to pull his pants down to make it a little easier for you to work, but Jungkook stopped you and mumbled something about it being quicker like this.

Even if you were trying to be conscious of the time, you didn’t think it would take that long to pull his pants up when you were done. But that’s what he wanted and there really wasn’t any time to question him on it. Instead, you finally took him out. You were drooling at how pretty the outline was even in the darkness and how it felt in your hand.

“Y/n…” Jungkook whined as you stared. Right, it was not a good time.

You slowly began pumping his length. You made sure to be extra attentive in your movements, steadily increasing your pace, and focusing on the tip since you knew how sensitive he was.

Your eyes also were trained on his expression. It was hard to see exactly, but you noticed the way he leaned his head back and the tight grip he had on the shelf that sat beside you both. He was trying so hard to be quiet, you could tell by the soft whines that would sometimes manage to slip out of his mouth. He really was so pretty. What you would have given for more time to tease him further.

You finally took him into your mouth, apparently a little unexpectedly by the way he nearly jumped out of skin. You hated to admit it was kinda cute.

Jungkook’s hand quickly moved from the shelf to rest on top of your head. He was careful to not hurt you as his fingers lightly threaded into your hair. He tried his best to keep steady, but his legs shook with each swipe of your tongue. The warmth and wetness of your mouth was overwhelming in the best way possible. Just the view alone of you on your knees for him… god.

Occasionally, you would look up at him and tease the tip between your lips. Sometimes Jungkook would try to watch as you took down as much as you could, but the sight was so good that he would need to quickly look away, flushed, knowing that the end would come all too quickly if he kept watching.

Before long, Jungkook was close and had to put his other hand over his mouth to stop himself from crying out. Somehow, he was still able to warn you of his impending release.

This prompted you to speed things up a little, knowing by now that time was probably not on your side. It didn’t take much more work before Jungkook was suddenly spilling into your mouth. His moans were muffled, but you watched in delight as you saw the tension leave all his features and his cum continued to paint your tongue.

You wanted to stay there and let him bask in his post-orgasmic bliss, but you figured he probably needed to leave soon to go set up for the meeting. You stood up and from the new angle you could see how relaxed he was; his eyes were closed while he leaned against the wall, his breath steady unlike when you first walked in. You really didn’t want to ruin this serene moment.

“Hope that helped a little bit, but it’s probably best not to sit here too much longer,” you mentioned after some time had passed.

Jungkook hummed and his eyes fluttered open to look at you before staring off into the distance. “I really don’t want to do this,” he sighed.

“I know it sucks, but once it’s over, it’s over. Do you have any other presentations coming up?” you asked, and Jungkook eventually nodded.

“One more right before the holidays start. It’s mainly to the higher-up executives, giving them a formal look into our plans for next quarter and the next year as well. Not as many people are going to be there as today, but it’s a little more important,” Jungkook groaned, running his fingers through his hair.

“We'll take it one day at a time. At least this one will be over shortly, and you can look back and—” but before you could finish, you felt a hand on your wrist and then suddenly you were pulled into something warm.

It took you a second to realize it was a hug. Your cheeks burned and you hated the way your heart skipped a beat at the way Jungkook nuzzled into your shoulder. He was so warm that you couldn’t help but melt into his embrace.

“Thank you… thank you for being here,” he sighed, and then all of a sudden you felt tingly everywhere. “Without you, I’m almost sure I would have had a breakdown right outside the meeting room, so thank you for just being here and… for helping out.” Your relationship was complicated for sure, but you weren’t the type of person to leave someone when they were clearly struggling. You may not exactly like Jungkook, but you didn’t hate him either. Sometimes, in moments like this, all he really needed was a helping hand.

“It was no trouble at all,” you tried to laugh, but it was hard keeping your voice steady when your heart was nearly beating out of your chest.

You stayed just like that for a second, wishing that you didn’t leave so soon.

“I guess I should go now. I still need to get my laptop from my office,” Jungkook sighed, and you quickly pulled away, remembering the time.

“Alright, you can head out first. I’ll see you in a few minutes,” you smiled at him, but right then you suddenly remembered something. You reached over to where the light switch was and quickly turned on the lights. You both cried out, then laughed at the sudden brightness in the room, but you tried your best to ignore it and do what you had wanted.

Suddenly, you were very close and your hands were back in his hair as you tried to fix the disheveled strands a little after his fingers had been running through it too many times. Once he realized what you were doing, he relaxed, and Jungkook’s gaze steadily fell to your lips. The pretty color that had stained them earlier was now smeared from your activities and he couldn’t stop himself from thinking it was one of the hottest things he had ever seen.

His hands came up to rest on your waist, but you paid no mind as you worked. The position made him realize just how much he didn’t want to leave you. You always needed to be quick whenever you met up here, but today you had no time whatsoever to spare. It really sucked.

Jungkook tried his best to ignore how much he wanted to kiss you again.

“Alright. I couldn’t help much, but I was able to get things relatively in the right spot. You look great and I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

It was then that you realized Jungkook’s gaze had drifted down towards your lips. With the lights on, you were able to see things clearly, his pretty lashes and all the cute moles on his face. He really was breathtaking. You were tempted to kiss him again, one last token of good luck before his presentation, but something about that felt… it felt like it wasn’t your place to do that. Instead, you smiled at him before pulling away again.

“How about this… if you have some time later, maybe I’ll give you a reward for finishing your presentation,” you mentioned as you watched Jungkook zip up his pants and redo his belt.

Jungkook smiled at the thought. The presentation was the main thing he had to do today, but he also had a few documents he knew he needed to look through. He would possibly have time a little later to potentially sneak off with you again. Plus, by that time, no one would really even be around to notice he was gone.

“Secretary Yu is leaving early today, it wouldn’t be too hard to sneak off later, but I’ll let you know.” He was certainly planning on it. After the presentation, he knew he would need something to wash away the nerves again.

You nodded at that. “Alright… Make sure to take deep breaths, and if things become too much, just look at me and pretend everyone else isn’t in the room.” You had heard that tip somewhere and figured it would be a good last-minute suggestion.

Jungkook looked up at you again. “Thank you…” he smiled once again, still unable to believe you were even there. Why would anyone care for him like this?

“Again, no trouble at all. I’ll fix myself up, then I’ll be heading to the meeting room.” You could only imagine what your makeup looked like right now.

Jungkook smiled. “Alright, I’ll see you then.”

“See you then~” you waved as Jungkook hurried out the door.

…

The presentation didn’t go perfectly. It never could have, considering all the anxiety he was dealing with these days, but he’s sure that without your help, it would have probably been a complete disaster. He hit all the talking points that he wanted to, even if he was a little shaky, but hopefully it hadn’t been too obvious.

You were a big help, and just your presence in the meeting made things a little easier as he tried the trick you suggested and fixated on you a couple of times to maintain his cool.

It went better than expected, and that was enough for him at the moment. As everyone started leaving the meeting room, it was good to feel the relief of it all being over. But now that things were done, all Jungkook could think about as he made his way back to his office was when he could meet up with you again.

•────•──────────•────•

Ever since the day Jungkook had left Yoongi’s office after breaking down in front of him about the affair, they had been texting off and on. It wasn’t much, mostly just Yoongi occasionally asking Jungkook if he was doing alright or if he had yet made an appointment with Dr. Kim yet. He had not.

Earlier today, the doctor randomly texted him to ask if he would like to meet up and have dinner since he apparently didn’t have any late night appointments that day. Jungkook wasn’t normally the type to say yes to something like that, not really enjoying other people’s company these days, but despite not technically being his therapist anymore, Dr. Min was still a professional and he knew he probably needed to talk to someone.

That was how Jungkook found himself leaving work a little earlier than he normally would and cruising down the streets of Seoul with Dae-Jung. A lot of people had already begun putting up decorations for the approaching holidays. Pretty lights twinkled in people’s windows and they came across frequent sightings of late night workers beginning to decorate small Christmas trees.

Yoongi hadn’t texted him an exact address, instead giving him the details of the place across the street from where they were meant to meet. At first, Jungkook was a little confused by it, until they made it onto the road and he saw the pojangmacha (tent bar) at the end of the street. It wasn’t long before he saw Yoongi right outside. Jungkook hopped out of the car into the freezing cold, telling Dae-Jung he’d text him when to pick him up, and made his way over to Yoongi.

They both greeted one another, exchanging slightly awkward hellos before walking in together. It had been quite some time since Jungkook had been to a pojangmacha— maybe since college? It was nice. The cozy warmth from the heaters and the grill easily cut through the chill November air, providing a little oasis for the people coming in. Lucky for them, a table was already available so they were quickly able to get a seat. As soon as they sat down, Jungkook realized he’d forgotten to eat again today and his stomach growled as they both looked over the menu.

The minute his eyes landed on Korean dumplings, he nearly started drooling as memories of them invaded his senses. He could practically taste them on his tongue. Jungkook eagerly pointed to them on the menu and then Yoongi ordered for the both of them, getting Korean dumplings for himself as well along with two sojus to go with their meal.

“I saw this place on my way to work today. They’ve come to this area before and they always have really good food,” Yoongi mentioned with a smile.

“I’m excited to try it. It smells really good here. I forgot to eat all day, so I’m starving!” Jungkook tried to laugh as he looked longingly at the food of the other customers. Hopefully their food would be served quickly…

Yoongi, however, was focused on something else. “Good food wasn’t the only reason I brought you here though. It’s been a little while since we’ve seen each other and I just wanted to check in on how you were doing. Have you managed to speak with Nam— Dr. Kim yet?” Yoongi asked, as a lady came over with their bottles of soju and some shot glasses.

Jungkook steadily shook his head. “I’ve been really busy at work. I was just going to try and schedule an appointment after New Year’s when I’ll be a little more free again.” Like a proper dongsaeng should, Jungkook was already opening Yoongi’s bottle and pouring it for him. Yoongi tried to do the same for Jungkook, but he insisted he’d do it on his own.

“I see… Things are usually hectic during the holidays. I’m still a little worried, considering how you were doing the last time you came to my office, but I understand. How are things going with that by the way?”

Jungkook took his first shot. It was bitter today, of course.

“With what?” Jungkook had to clear his throat as the clear liquid burned going down his throat.

“The affair. Did you ever manage to tell Yuri about it?” Yoongi took his own first shot. He didn’t mean to be so blunt, but there was no use beating around the bush.

Jungkook stared at the doctor for a second before he hurriedly filled his shot glass once again, the clear liquid quickly rising to the top and nearly brimming in the process. He downed his next shot speedily and finished it with ease before finally managing to shake his head no. He still hadn’t told Yuri about what happened that day… and all that happened afterward. Frankly, he didn’t really want to.

Silence passed for a little while as Yoongi continued to stare at Jungkook.

“Are you still seeing the coworker?” Yoongi eventually asked.

At this, Jungkook hastily went for his third shot.

“Woah… no need to rush—” Yoongi mumbled in an attempt to tell him to slow down, but Jungkook shooed him away as he easily downed his third. As soon as he set the glass back on the table, Jungkook’s hands were threaded into his hair again, his grip tighter than ever. Eventually, he nodded.

“Jungkook, look at me.” Yoongi softly commanded. Jungkook put his hands down and Yoongi was able to see that his eyes had grown a little watery. He took a deep breath before continuing.

“I tried to push her away, or maybe I didn’t. I probably didn’t try hard enough.” Something about confessing out loud that things were still happening between you two made the reality sink in even more. How horrible was he?

“She was the one who tried to tell me it was a bad idea to continue, but I practically begged her to be with me again.” Just the thought of it was sickening. Pathetic. What would Yuri say if she saw this?

“I tried to focus on Yuri, she’s my wife for fuck’s sake. But she keeps pushing me away, and now… I just feel like I’m digging myself into an even deeper hole than I was in in the first place,” Jungkook's voice wavered. He didn’t know what was worse at this point— betraying Yuri’s trust over and over again, or the fact that he was enjoying his time with you so much.

Yoongi stared at Jungkook for a little while before he went for his second shot. Jungkook tried to pour it for him, but Yoongi shooed him away. He downed the shot easily before rising to his feet.

“Follow me,” Yoongi said as he started putting his coat back on. Jungkook was confused, but quickly rose to his feet and put on his coat as well.

“We’ll be standing just right outside, could you call us in when our food is ready?” Yoongi asked the ajumma who was working hard behind the grill.

“Did you get that?” she called out to the younger woman who was sitting behind her scrolling on her phone. She had been the one who served them their drinks. Jungkook assumed she might be the older woman’s daughter. They had the same face, time being the only differential. The young lady nodded and with that, Yoongi pulled Jungkook out of the tent into the cold and over to a bench that sat in front of a big art sculpture that wasn’t too far from them.

Yoongi sighed, a foggy puff of air slipping past his lips, proving just how cold it was to anyone standing outside in this unfortunate weather. Jungkook was about to ask what was going on when Yoongi started rummaging around in his pockets, pulling out a box in one hand and something shiny in the other. It took him a second to realize it was a box of cigarettes and a bright purple lighter.

Yoongi smiled as he held up the lighter. “My daughter’s name is Bora. I got this color because of her, but funnily enough, I don’t really use it much anymore,” he laughed.

It took Jungkook a second to realize that he had never really considered that the doctor… had a life? He felt guilty for not asking Yoongi about himself, but of course the couples therapist has a whole life and a daughter. Jungkook also imagined he was married as well. Oddly enough, Yoongi had started to take on the role of a big brother in Jungkook’s eyes, but it still shocked him a little. Sometimes he seemed years ahead of him in life experience, but other times he really didn’t feel any different in age. Yoongi didn’t even look that much older than Jungkook was, making it harder to remember there was a bit of an age gap— seven years to be exact.

As Jungkook was lost in thought, he completely missed when Yoongi opened the box, took out a cigarette, put it between his lips, and handed the box over to Jungkook.

“Only if you want to,” Yoongi mentioned, as he tried his best to light it. It took a couple of tries, but eventually the end managed to catch.

Jungkook didn’t really think too much about it as he took one before handing the box back over to Yoongi and exchanging it for the lighter.

He didn’t really smoke, at least not anymore. College Jungkook, however, was a very different Jungkook. It wouldn’t have been an unusual sight to walk into his apartment and see him on the balcony with his feet kicked up and a cigarette between his lips, strumming along on his guitar to his favorite songs as he procrastinated doing homework. He never stopped for any reason in particular, it was just one of those habits that never stuck, and especially once he started his new life as a married man, he never really went back to it.

That didn’t stop him this time, though. Jungkook took the bright purple lighter and easily lit the cigarette. He took a long inhale before steadily blowing out the smoke, all while Yoongi observed him closely. Jungkook wasn’t prepared to hear the man chuckle beside him.

“Guess you weren’t lying then…,” he giggled to himself, taking another puff.

“You thought I was?” Jungkook asked, a little confused why he would think that.

Yoongi just shrugged, not really having an answer.

“Anyway, I brought you out here to talk about how you’re doing. We’re not in my office anymore, so be as unfiltered as you’d like. Tell me anything you’re comfortable with sharing— about Yuri, the affair, yourself…” Yoongi looked over at him.

The proposition made Jungkook’s eyes glisten and he hoped Yoongi would just think it was because of the cold. He quickly took another hit of the cigarette. Silence passed for a while, just the sounds of a few passersby and the wind steadily blowing as it made the night even colder.

“I don’t feel good,” Jungkook laid out plainly, not really having the energy to put up a front for the doctor and pretend things were fine. They weren’t— he needed help, he knew that. “I don’t really feel anything anymore,” Jungkook added a little more quietly.

“Anything?” Yoongi repeated, and Jungkook nodded.

“Every day is a fucking nightmare. It hurts just to get out of bed each day and go to work. It hurts to see Yuri. Our marriage is getting worse every single day and I still don’t feel guilty about what I did to her— what I keep doing to her for some reason. The only time I feel anything anymore is when I’m with Y/n…” His eyes were watering so much now, it was hard to pretend it was still just the cold.

“Is Y/n your coworker?” Yoongi asked, and Jungkook nodded once again. “What does she make you feel?”

Jungkook shrugged. “It just feels good when we’re together. For a moment, I feel something again. For a second, my life isn’t shit and my problems disappear. Maybe that’s why I keep going back to her for more.”

Yoongi wanted to comment on that, but ultimately chose to stay quiet. He didn’t want to label anything prematurely, but as a couples therapist and a married man, what Jungkook described didn’t sound unfamiliar.

“But even when I do, I still treat her like shit, just like I do with Yuri. I can’t do anything right,” Jungkook laughed as he wiped his eyes and took another puff from his cigarette.

“And what makes you say that?” Yoongi inquired further.

“I keep giving her more work when we’re already really busy as it is. We argue pretty much every time we’re alone together. She doesn’t deserve it. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Jungkook was crying just thinking about how you were probably still at the office working because of him.

“I just feel so hopeless every day, every fucking day and I just want it to end.” Jungkook sobbed, using his coat sleeve to wipe his eyes.

“Before, I held onto this glimmer of hope that one day I’d get my shit together and finally understand how to make Yuri happy, how to love her, how to at least get her to a place where she’d try and work things out with me.” Just an attempt, that was all he needed. “But now I feel like I fucked things up beyond repair, I’ve fucked everything up so badly— nothing will ever get better and I’m just so tired.”

Yoongi didn’t want to interrupt but this was beyond heartbreaking to listen to and watch as the tears started streaming down his cheeks.

“And I’m so ashamed— Y/n— I think I’m just running off of what she gives me at this point, it’s the only time anything feels like something anymore— I want things to be ok, but I just keep messing everything up— I’m so tired, I feel like giving up at this point.” It was vague, but Yoongi was paying close attention to his wording and his heart sank hearing the words ‘give up.’ He honestly thought the worst.

“It’s just gray no matter where I look and I don’t know how much longer I can go on like this, hyung. I just want it to end.” Jungkook sighed.

It might have been a slip of the tongue, maybe it was the alcohol flowing through his system, but the endearing honorific, one Jungkook didn’t seem to notice in the moment, was easily heard by Yoongi.

At this, Yoongi finally had to say something. “Jungkook, I'm really, really worried about you. I know I’m a couples therapist so this isn’t exactly my specialty, but the way you speak about your depression is concerning. The sentiments you’re describing are treading into dangerous territories that I’m honestly a little worried about leaving you alone.” The label wasn’t really a surprise. Jungkook had figured he’d veered into depression land a long time ago.

“Do you think you can hold out till the New Year’s when you’ll be able to meet Dr. Kim?” Yoongi asked seriously.

Jungkook nodded, wanting to believe he could. He hated to say he wasn’t confident in his affirmation.

“Things were bad before, but it was very recently where I don’t know… like I didn’t feel good for years if I’m being honest, but it I felt like I was on a hill and then all of a sudden I reached a cliff. I’m trying hard to climb out, or at least find the other side, but it just keeps getting lower and lower and now I’m stuck— the end’s nowhere in sight and—” Jungkook could ramble for hours about this. It truly felt there would be no end to this madness. He was tired, tired of going on and on and on with the same bullshit…

He was making people suffer, his wife, his employees, his friends, you, the list goes on.

“I know things might feel hopeless now, but trust when I say there is an end somewhere. Just hang in there a little longer, Jungkook,” this conversation had grown very serious. They both were dancing around the actual topic at hand, but they certainly knew what was being discussed.

They both sat in silence for a little while, letting it speak louder than words could in the moment, steadily smoking away their woes. Jungkook’s soft cries gradually grew quieter.

“Jungkook… I don’t really know the type of people you have in your life, but like I mentioned the last time you were at the office, I really recommend leaning on whatever support system you have. Friends, family, and I want you to know I’ll always be here if you need someone to rant to. If things ever feel like they’re getting too much, you can always call or stop by the office with a little heads up. You’re not alone and I don’t want you to feel that way.” Yoongi added after a particularly long puff from his cigarette.

The sentiment was nice and even though Jungkook was a mess right now, he still appreciated it. It was enough that for a moment it pushed away that terrible thought of him not being worthy of help anymore— for a second he wanted to believe somehow everything would work out as it should. It’ll be a tough battle and if worse comes to worse, at least maybe Yoongi will be there to lean on.

“Thank you…” Jungkook’s voice was soft as he spoke.

It was only a moment though, and bringing up all these emotions he tried his best to keep at bay made his head feel like a mess. It was so much, too much, and he really was so tired at this point. His eyes grew watery all over again, but his cheeks burned as he realized they were in fact in public. He could only imagine what the people passing by would think of him…

“But it still hurts, it hurts so much.” Jungkook was trying his hardest to keep the tears at bay. Yoongi was probably tired of all the crying, but they just kept rolling down his cheeks. “I don’t want to li—”

“Boys!” A sudden voice called out.

Yoongi and Jungkook looked back over to the tent and saw the lady who was sitting on the stool earlier had her head poking out.

“Your food’s ready!” She added once she saw that she got their attention. Yoongi flashed her a quick thumbs up and she sent one back before heading inside.

“What were you saying?” Yoongi tried to steer things back on topic, but Jungkook shook his head.

“Doesn’t matter—” He said, still wiping the tears off his face. “I haven’t eaten all day, I’m starving.” He was quick at getting up and heading over to the trash can to put out his cigarette and throw it away.

Yoongi wanted to stop him, but just decided they could discuss things a little more as they ate. Maybe things would go better with some food in their systems, especially for Jungkook.

Yoongi caught up to him. “By the way, I don’t mind you calling me hyung.” He mentioned with a smile. Suddenly Jungkook looked even more embarrassed.

“You said it earlier and I didn’t mind. I’m not your therapist anymore, no need to keep the formalities. Making things casual seems like the way to go.” He smiled.

“I’m sorry about earlier, I—” But Yoongi shushed him.

“No apologies, it’s fine. Let me hear you say it~” He slightly teased.

Jungkook’s cheeks flushed. “Hyung? Yoongi hyung?” Jungkook tested how it sounded and they both chuckled.

“Sounds right to me. Now let’s go eat.” They hurriedly rushed back inside to the warmth and were greeted with the mouthwatering sight of the dumplings sitting on their table. Yoongi ordered two more bottles of soju, and once they got their coats off they immediately grabbed their chopsticks and started to dig in.

The place was fantastic— Yoongi was one hundred percent right and Jungkook wished this place would stay here so he could visit more often. He made sure to tell Yoongi hyung that when the place was back in this area to let him know so they could eat here again together.

Now things were in much better spirits considering the difficult conversation they just had outside. Jungkook even asked for more food after he managed to finish so quickly. Nonetheless, something Yoongi tried not to bring up at first was how awfully fast Jungkook was drinking. He easily downed shot after shot, and the bottles quickly came and went over at his side of the table.

“Are you trying to get drunk or something?” Yoongi eventually asked. Even he had lost count of what bottle he was on. Yoongi was still on his third. He had made the decision to just leave his car and take a taxi to work or something in the morning once Jungkook agreed to meet up, but he still wasn’t trying to get hammered. He had a seven-month-old at home he still needed to take care of when he got back. Buzzed, maybe even a little tipsy was the most he was going for tonight. Jungkook though seemed to have different plans.

“I’m fine…” Jungkook sighed as he downed another shot.

Yoongi didn’t want to refute it, this was their first time drinking together, so it’s not like they knew each other’s limits. But he should have trusted the very fact he had eyes and knew that he was drinking way beyond just getting buzzed or even tipsy.

Jungkook could hardly keep his eyes open by the time they were leaving. Yoongi had to be the one to put his coat on, and he practically had to carry him outside back over to the bench they were sitting at earlier. It was also Yoongi who texted Dae-Jung to come pick him up after Jungkook mumbled something about texting him when he asked if he had any plans on getting home.

Dae-Jung was here not too long after, but by then Jungkook was pretty much passed out on the bench. He seemed to notice Jungkook was incapacitated and came jogging out of the car over to the two of them. He didn’t look much older than Jungkook— he had sharp eyes and a short haircut that Yoongi thought only added more to the “professional image” of an employee to the CEO’s son. He was also wearing a suit with a white turtleneck underneath.

“What happened?” Dae-Jung asked concerningly.

“He had way too many. I should have stopped him, I’m sorry.” Yoongi said remorsefully.

“You’re fine… this was his choice and unfortunately this happens too many times these days. Thank you so much for looking after him.” Dae-Jung sighed before heading over to pick Jungkook up.

Yoongi was just going to bid them both farewell, but Jungkook must have woken up a little because as they passed by, Jungkook grabbed onto Yoongi’s sleeve.

“We— we should take him home.” Jungkook slurred lazily to Dae-Jung as he weakly pointed at Yoongi. Yoongi and Dae-Jung both looked at each other before back at Jungkook.

“You really don’t—”

“I don’t mind, unless you planned on driving back.” Dae-Jung huffed, as he repositioned Jungkook on his shoulder so he wouldn’t fall over.

Yoongi shook his head.

“Hop in then.” And that’s how Yoongi ended up riding home with them. Jungkook passed out again as soon as they managed to get him in the car. Jungkook’s head rested against the window and his light snores were more than amusing in Yoongi’s buzzed state.

Luckily, Yoongi didn’t live too far away, and it felt like in no time they were pulling up right outside Yoongi’s apartment building.

Yoongi thanked Dae-Jung and said goodbye to Jungkook even though he was completely gone.

Dae-Jung took charge from that point forward. Jungkook and Yuri lived a little further away, fortunately it was late and there wasn’t much traffic, so they managed to make it within thirty minutes. Dae-Jung helped Jungkook out of the car as they stumbled their way up to the apartment. With his aid, Jungkook was able to take off his coat and suit jacket, before they stumbled toward the other bedroom— Jungkook always preferred staying there when he was this drunk.

Yuri hadn’t been there to urge him to stay in their own room anyway. He doubted she would have.

Jungkook was out once again, sleeping far past his alarm, and unsurprisingly he was late to work the next day. He was a mess, his head hurt with every move he made, and all he could think about was how much of a disappointment he turned out to be. He’d messed up everything in his life, and there was no way out at this point.

Every day was a waking nightmare, and he just wanted it to end.

•────•──────────•────•

You both were normally so careful when it came to sneaking off to the storage room. You would always wait a few minutes in between before heading inside, and you even had to do the special knock in order to verify it was each other. This time though, you were in a rush.

Jungkook wasn’t too far ahead of you as you walked swiftly behind him, making sure to keep enough distance between you both, but he wanted you to be quick. With how fast he was moving, you could hardly keep up by the time he was turning the corner to the hallway where the storage room was. You waited a few seconds, then as inconspicuously as you could, you made your way down the same hallway. You didn’t even manage to get the full knock in when the door swung open, and you felt a hand grab your wrist to hastily pull you inside.

Before you even realized, your back was suddenly up against the wall and you were staring right into Jungkook’s eyes. He was close, his hands were right by your sides against the wall. You watched his eyes drift down and scan over your form before they returned to meet your own once again. Even in the dark, his pained expression was obvious.

Jungkook couldn’t stand another moment apart from you so he moved his hands to rest on your waist as he pulled you close to finally meet your lips. You could instantly taste the beer on his tongue as things quickly grew more intense.

That was new. Is that what this was?

You really had no idea how things had moved so fast. You were leading a meeting only a few minutes prior; a rare one Jungkook needed to attend. He’d been making eyes at you as he sat at the head of the table, and while a part of you couldn’t lie it made you a little hot, this was a meeting; a meeting with a lot of other people around. Maybe the beer was the missing piece to this puzzle, it explained why he was so shamelessly eyeing you in front of everyone. It’s a bit strange though— it was only the afternoon, why was he drinking that early?

As soon as the meeting finished, Jungkook stayed behind and just as you were picking up your laptop to leave, Jungkook stopped you in your tracks.

“Wait!” His bright, round eyes stared up at you, pleading almost with his gaze.

You quickly looked around. It’s not like this meeting room really had walls; the ones that faced the office were made up of thick panes of glass organized in a horizontally striped pattern, alternating between clear and frosted glass. The parts that were frosted were larger, but anyone who looked hard enough in between could see you both. You had no idea what he wanted, but you were a little worried.

“Yes?” You clutched your laptop tight to your chest.

Jungkook’s eyes trailed down his lap before he looked back up at you. “Would you have time to go to the storage room quickly?” His voice was soft, but he seemed desperate.

You looked at him a little confused. Usually there would be some type of heads up. “Right now?”

“It’s ummm… it’s an emergency…” His eyes glanced down again before looking back at you.

And that’s how you learned Jungkook should be forced to wear sunglasses all the time because why, why did all it take was him looking at you like that to make you so easily agree? You thought you were stronger than that, but apparently you were a lot easier than you wanted to admit since that was all you needed to give into his pleas. Your legs practically acted all on their own as you speedily ran back to your office to put your laptop back before you somehow caught up to Jungkook making his way to the storage room.

In short, that’s how you ended up here.

His hands eagerly raked up your sides, tugging at your blouse and skirt as they sensually traversed along the fabric. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he practically stuffed his tongue down your throat before you could even process the situation you were in. His kisses were full of more and more desperation and wanting each time his lips met your own. You were never going to get used to how passionately he’d kiss you. It hastily took your breath away, and the heat you felt from the meeting earlier exploded into an even greater fury the longer you were in his arms.

Jungkook suddenly hiked your leg up to his waist, and at this angle you could feel the very reason why he was moving so fast.

“Wh-what’s got you so worked up?” You moaned lightly, your body on fire from the tingles that surged through you.

“You.” Jungkook hurried out in between kisses. “Your existence,” a callback to a running problem in your relationship, this time spun a little more sweetly. The stark answer made your cheeks burn in a way you weren’t prepared for. You tried to brush it off with a smile.

“I’m serious… something’s up with you today.” Something was clearly up— Jungkook’s kisses trailed off your cheek and down your neck where he lightly sucked across your skin. You definitely knew he wasn’t being careful about not leaving any marks.

Jungkook wasn’t really in a talking mood, much preferring to enjoy your whines as his mouth worked on your neck and eager his hips met your own. You always made such pretty sounds. Then when your hands moved to thread in his hair, now he really wasn’t in a talking mood. He couldn’t help but think this wasn’t going fast enough.

“Jungkook?” You questioned the longer the silence went on, gripping his hair tight to get his attention, making him moan into your skin.

Oh.

“Your meeting was hot.” He groaned just thinking back to it, adding to the fact that he really liked it when you played with his hair.

You laughed at that. “And what about spreadsheets, pie charts, and Excel made you this hot and bothered?” It was a funny thought. You were somewhat joking, but you weren’t one hundred percent sure what he was into. Maybe that was actually his thing.

You weren’t expecting the soft, but noticeable bite on the nape of your neck. It didn’t hurt, and you could practically feel his smile across your skin. You yelped slightly at the sensation.

“It’s not that—” Jungkook ground into you a little harder and you could easily feel him right where you wanted. “You feel that? This is your fault.” Jungkook’s voice was a little shaky and his words slurred together from how much he was pushing into you.

You couldn’t stop the moan falling from your lips at his words. This was new. Jungkook was normally so shy, he never was this blunt and you weren’t prepared at all for this new side. What was going on?

It was probably the beer. That was the only explanation.

“I kept— kept thinking about how much I wanted to fuck you on the meeting table.” Jungkook groaned into your skin. It was a dirty thought, one that made his cheeks burn because he was in public and he was supposed to be focusing on your words. He could hardly pay attention as his mind bounced back and forth between admiring your presentation skills to thinking about what it’d be like to take you right there on the table in front of everyone.

At this point, you feared he was drunk. This was completely unlike him.

You tried to ignore how on fire your cheeks were. “Does that mean you didn’t pay attention to anything I said?”

“If I say yes will you do the whole thing again, just the two of us?” He was normally never this bold. He was already making work of getting your shirt loose, managing to get a few buttons undone with his shaky hands, enough to see your black bra come into view. Jungkook couldn’t take his eyes off you and wished so much he could see you a little better. He kissed your neck and steadily made his way down your chest.

“Oh— wha—” He could probably sense you were about to say something, so instead of letting you continue the banter, he moved back up to kiss you.

It was brief but enough to quickly take your breath away before he pulled away and buried himself in your shoulder.

“Y/n— I don’t, fuck, I don’t think I can wait— could you take me now?” Jungkook would never normally ask this. Yuri would be so disappointed if she knew he did. He always liked to take care of you in some shape or form before he did anything to you, but today… today…

And you could feel his impatience. No wonder he called it an emergency in the meeting room. And if that wasn’t enough, clearly something must be in the air today because Jungkook was showing you a completely new side to him.

“I’m really sorry— I can try and do more if you need it, I just—”

“Jungkook, please just fuck me.” This little talk was honestly all you needed to get going.

You didn’t need to tell him twice. Jungkook was already kissing you once again as he tried his best to guide you both to the table. It took a bit of work, Jungkook was more than distracted, but eventually he could feel the plastic surface behind you. He wasted no time flipping you over so your hands were planted on the table and your ass was pressed right where he needed you.

“I’ll try and make this quick.” But that wouldn’t be too much of a challenge. He needed you and today things were even worse than usual.

You nodded as you heard the swift sounds of his belt coming undone. He normally was uncoordinated, the need always clouding his senses making even the simplest tasks seem impossible, but today it was even worse. The alcohol surely didn’t help in his struggle.

You could hear him growing frustrated as he wrangled with his belt while lightly grinding into you. He was subtle, but his cute whines were still evident.

“Cmon, please, please, please—” He cried. His eyes were a little watery. Yes, it was this serious for him, he was so close to feeling you, but once again the hurdle of the belt and pants got in the way.

Eventually, things were finally going his way. The belt came undone, his pants unzipped, and finally he was free to feel you. Jungkook was on you in a haste, his hands working fast at pulling up your skirt— even in the dark the view nearly made him lose it; from your thigh highs coming up your legs to your black panties, and the position you were in… Fuck, the arch in your back made you look so ready for him. He was so weak.

Jungkook quickly tangled himself around you. While one hand was on your waist to keep you steady, his other hand was in your panties before you knew it; his fingers were eagerly running through your slit.

“Shit!” You gasped, already failing at keeping yourself quiet.

Jungkook was more than surprised to find you were already wet.

“Fuck—” He groaned, as he buried his head in your shoulder, growing more desperate by the second, already imagining what it would be like to be inside you.

“I’ll be quick— I’m sorry…” He sighed as he started lining up behind you, rubbing himself along the dampness of your panties. Only then did he remember something he had completely forgotten till now.

“Jungkook, please—”

His eyes quickly grew teary realizing how bad this was. “Wait— wait, I don’t have a condom.” He quietly cried.

This got you to pause. “Wait, what?”

“I forgot to buy more…” He didn’t have any left whatsoever. Not even a brief, awkward pause to run back to his office would save him. The last time you were together was when you both made it through the last of the box he bought a few weeks ago. Jungkook had made the note to get more after work, but Yuri had texted him that day saying she was home and he completely forgot about anything else.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Jungkook continued to lightly rub his achy cock along the damp fabric between your thighs. You were so wet.

Shit.

He wasn’t thinking straight at all. You both really should be careful. He thought you two would never be in a situation like this again after he bought condoms, but he wasn’t used to buying them regularly; it wasn’t surprising how easily it slipped his mind. The smart thing to do in this situation would be handling both your needs in some other fashion than being inside you. There were a million ways to get off, it wasn’t the end of the world, but—

“Are you still—”

“Yes! We don’t need one if you’re fine with that.” You hurried out, not even needing him to finish the question. It was disappointing how that confirmation was all that he needed to keep going. No more questions, talking, banter, anything, he just had to feel you.

Jungkook swiftly moved your panties to the side and shakily rubbed his length across your soaked folds. A choked moan fell from his lips at the sensation. He couldn’t take it anymore, the need grew too much to even attempt to tease you further. He hurriedly lined himself up and finally pushed his cock inside you. Jungkook was in such a rush, he was completely unprepared to be reminded how good you felt bare like this.

“Oh fu—” A few tears slipped from his eyes as he basked in your warmth, amazed at how tightly you were wrapped around him.

“Jungkook, oh my g—” You whined as his hand snaked back down into your panties and lightly started rubbing circles around your bud. He wanted to treat you well still, the guilt he felt rushing things was impossible to ignore.

Jungkook nearly cried, savoring the way you tightened around him. It was grueling to try and keep still. He wanted to go slow for both your sakes, but mainly for you so you’d have that opportunity to get adjusted; he would hate to hurt you due to his own selfish desires.

“Please, Jungkook!” You cried, clamping hard onto the table. Tears had even started to prick your eyes.

“You think you can take me?” He groaned, even though you were practically squeezing him to give you more.

“What about ‘Jungkook, please fuck me’ is so hard to understand?” Your bratty tone was the last straw in snapping his reserve. He roughly pulled out and thrusted back into you, making you both moan out at the sensation. He didn’t mean to be so forceful, but—

“Quiet,” a simple one-word command that Jungkook practically growled into your ear. “You always talk too much.” He sighed as he began his steady pace of rocking into you, never once moving his hand away from your clit.

You nearly screamed at the sensation and quickly had to remind yourself that you were in a storage room at your job, and people weren’t that far away. You had to control yourself, but fucking Jungkook…

Instead of saying anything more, you obeyed like he wanted. It wasn’t like you necessarily wanted to, but as he started increasing his pace, you knew anything that would come out of your mouth at that point would only get you in trouble.

It was almost mind-boggling that this was the same man you’ve argued, consoled, and talked with over the last month. What was going on?

You kept quiet trying your best to keep yourself under control as he pounded into you from the back. One hand on your waist, pulling you back to meet his hips, the other working tirelessly on bringing you closer and closer to the end. It felt good— more than good, but you didn’t want to admit that. You honestly hated thinking about how good the sex was with him sometimes.

It was only temporary, this would end someday, hopefully soon. This spelled disaster before anything had even happened yet, but deep down, you knew this path would only get more complicated the longer you both kept this going.

This was bad news, this was bad news, this was bad new— But your warnings were being drowned out by the surge of pleasure running through your body by his hand and his cock that always managed to fill you so well.

Suddenly his pace slightly faltered and his grip on your waist grew tighter. “C-Close—” He fumbled out, trying to steady himself once more.

He knew going into this it wouldn’t last long. That meeting had worked him up in ways that he wasn’t prepared for, he couldn’t even pretend he was better than this. His daydreams were more vivid than anything he used to experience. They were memories. They were dangerous, powerful memories that he couldn’t run from even with his employees all around him. It was pathetic.

Now that he had you to himself, he couldn’t even fake composure. The scene was phenomenal, your skirt bunched up around your waist, your panties clumsily pushed to the side, your thigh-highs he wondered if were getting stained with your juices, and the way your ass would jiggle with each thrust he made. Jungkook could have cum just from his thoughts alone. You felt so fucking good around him, he couldn’t keep it together no matter how slow he tried to move. It was too much, and it wasn’t too long after that he felt himself starting to speed towards his release.

You both were prepared for things to end soon as they always do, but for the first time in the few weeks you both have been sneaking away to the meeting room, you heard footsteps.

These weren’t the typical footsteps that you both would hear whenever someone would pass by this pretty destitute hallway, no, these footsteps were loud. Instead of just fading as they walked off, they only got louder and louder with each second that passed letting you both know that they simply weren’t going along through the outside hallway, they were getting closer.

You both instantly froze the longer you realized what that meant. The possibilities quickly ran through your heads. Best case scenario, this was someone who simply took a wrong turn and would be going back pretty soon after they realized that the only thing down here was a storage room. Worst case scenario, the only other people who have access to the room— it was a janitor innocently coming over to get more supplies.

There wouldn’t be enough time to try and cover yourselves to pretend like nothing perverse had been happening only moments prior. It would simply be the end and the beginning to the hell that would await you.

Luckily, your question was answered before they even made it to the door and your mind wandered too far. It wasn’t one, but definitely multiple people who were laughing and joking with each other as they got closer.

“What’s down here, hyung?” A younger voice filled the hallway quite clearly.

“I’ve never been down this hallway before.” Another voice said.

They were newbies— new people who joined the office and were receiving an in-depth tour of the building by their senior. There should be no reason to panic anymore besides the minor inconvenience, but things were never that simple.

The minute Jungkook heard voices, his first instinct was to pull you close so you were flush against his chest. His hand went over your mouth to keep you quiet, shushing you right in your ear while he was still buried deep inside you. The position, maybe it was the situation, you weren’t exactly sure yourself, but apparently Jungkook hit a button you had that you didn’t know existed.

As the group grew closer you were trying your best to keep calm, but you found it extremely—

“Oh—” Jungkook quickly had to bury himself in your shoulder. You were tightening around him so much, so fucking much.

“Ok, so what’s down here?” Another person in the group said. You were hardly paying attention anymore, but they were standing right outside the door.

They were right outside, but no matter what, you just wouldn’t relax around him. Jungkook tried his best to control himself and take steady, deep breaths just until the group left. But they weren’t moving, for whatever reason, this little hallway they found was the best place to be a great hang out spot and get into some random conversation about who knows what.

“Fuck…” Jungkook cried out as quietly as he could into your shoulder. He wasn’t strong enough at all to do this. You were squeezing him so much, and he had already been close, trying to keep still was—

His hips almost had a mind of their own as they steadily began to pump into your sopping heat. He tried his best to keep his movements small, not to make too much noise, but when he moved that only made it so much worse—

“Sto— please— Y/n!” He was forcing himself to whisper, but it almost felt like he was yelling in the moment. He had to keep calm, but you were making this difficult. Why was this happening?! And somehow, as if things couldn’t get any worse… None of you were listening to what the group outside were saying, not until the point where one distinct voice questioned— “Ok, so the only thing down here pretty much is this storage room?”

“What do you think is in there?” Someone else said.

“I don’t know. I’ve never been in there before, but I can’t imagine it’s anything that interesting.”

“Let’s seem,” it was the one who sounded a little younger— curious, oh he was so fucking curious because who suggests that? But the distinct sound of the doorknob turning only made Jungkook that much more desperate, his thrusts growing far too hurried for someone who was trying to keep quiet.

Click- click- click— no matter what way they turned, the door wouldn’t open, but the adrenaline you both were running on was unlike anything else.

“Huh… guess it’s locked.”

“Yeah, look, you need to use your badge to get access.”

“We don’t have access?”

It sounded like someone tried, the familiar game-like failure buzz sounded and the sounds of disappointed sighs filled the hallway.

But you both heard it, and it was a sound of relief as Jungkook felt like he was two seconds away from derailing. They had to leave soon— they had to leave soon— please—

“Anyway, time to move on to the other parts of the tour, no reason to get stuck here.” Someone sounded, probably the senior who was guiding everyone around. Then, the sounds of footsteps steadily grew quieter and quieter.

Your muffled moans, as Jungkook instantly hurried his pace, grew louder and more desperate right along with Jungkook as his hand went faster and faster. You were so tight…

Their footsteps were still going down the hallway when Jungkook couldn’t stop himself anymore from spilling into your warmth. A muffled cry went into your shoulder as he hastily pumped you full of his cum. It felt like this giant wave crashed over him, it knocked him down and he couldn’t even think about getting back up. He was shaking, hushed cries and curses filling the room, because what the fuck just happened?

But Jungkook was not in the mood to question it now. In his post-bliss haze, all he could focus on was getting you over the edge as well. Jungkook didn’t waste another second and picked his pace up once again on your clit.

“Want to see you cum for me…” He lazily whispered in your ear, and all the while his hand was still over your mouth, so all you could respond with was your muffled cries into his hand. You really do talk too much sometimes.

You had no idea where this was coming from, and your body didn’t either. You had tears in your eyes at how good he felt, and Jungkook could feel them running down onto his hand.

It didn’t take much until that knot finally snapped and you finished hard around him. You tightened so much around his spent length that as Jungkook was fighting the overstimulation, somehow you were able to easily have him cumming into you again while he worked you both through it like the pathetic man he was.

It was intense, and out of the month this affair had been happening, you hadn't experienced anything like this. You don’t think you ever have.

You both were rendered messes as slowly but surely you started to come back down. Jungkook nearly collapsed onto you. Your knees felt weak, but you could only imagine what he was feeling having cum so fast right after his first orgasm.

For a little while, you just listened to your labored breaths. It was like the disastrous calm after a storm. The sun was out, but all that did was highlight the devastating damage left in its wake.

Jungkook was slouched over you, and as time passed your breathing grew more in sync. You honestly didn’t want to move. Something about this moment made your heart hammer painfully in your chest; you figured it was the adrenaline. But eventually, Jungkook found the strength to pull away from you and you hated how you already missed his warmth. To distract yourself, you made quick work at trying to get yourself as presentable as you could again— pulling your skirt down, buttoning up your blouse, smoothing down your hair, and you’d touch up your makeup a little later.

Jungkook barely managed to get his pants back up and was leaning against the wall, looking more spaced out than ever. In the silence, it made you think about something that you both had unintentionally avoided over the last month.

“Do you think it might be a good idea to not keep doing this at our job…?” You laughed weakly. “I know they couldn’t get in, but what if that was a janitor.”

Jungkook opened his eyes and looked at you.

Oddly enough, this affair had never left the office besides that one time you gave him a handjob before a meeting at another company. It was never something you both discussed, it just kinda happened this way. There was this unspoken line that for some reason none of you decided to cross since this started— inviting each other home.

Jungkook might have had his own reasons, but at least for you the office made it less real. Just like the very day you found yourself on Jungkook’s desk, it was almost like there was this haze in the air that made the reality of what you were doing easier to bear. At home— that felt personal— too personal for something that needed to have ended weeks ago, something that should have never started in the first place. Things just seemed easier here, risky yes, but convenient and made it a lot less difficult to convince yourself that you weren’t having an affair with a married man.

But again, it was risky, and you were bound to get caught one day if this kept going. Maybe you hoped that the last time would really be the last, no need to bring him over, but for some reason you just couldn’t see that happening anymore. It felt more likely one day you both were going to get caught with your pants down by the janitor than you were to end things right now.

That brush with the possibility, while exhilarating, you knew it was a warning sign from the universe that the next time you both might not be so lucky.

“You’re probably right…” He sighed.

“Your place probably isn’t a good idea considering… well, you know… it’s just me at my apartment, no roommates whatsoever, so we could finally have some privacy.” You suggested.

Jungkook slowly nodded, his silence lingered for a while.

“Unless maybe you’re not comfortab—”

“No, no, sorry. Your place is fine. It’s probably best to continue things from there then. Next time I guess we’ll meet there.” Jungkook rushed out, but you could tell something was a little off about him. He normally got quiet after things were done, but this was just unlike him.

“Alright, my place it is then.” You sighed. It was weird, you literally just had some of the best sex you ever had, yet Jungkook’s low mood was so easily sucking the new found energy right out of you.

Silence passed for a little while before you couldn’t take it any longer. “Are you doing ok? I could practically taste the alcohol you drank earlier. Did you go somewhere? Everything alright?” You finally asked, more than a little concerned.

Your eyes bared into him as you waited for his answer.

Jungkook weakly smiled into the darkness. “Just trying to make it through the day.”

His answer did nothing but make you more worried, it just confirmed your worst fears. It’s not like he went maybe to some fancy brunch with friends, he was simply day drinking for no other reason than to drown out whatever sorrows he was dealing with.

“Are you drunk, you seem a little…” Off, he’s seemed off all day and that says something, because everything about him was off on a daily basis— today strayed even further from the ordinary.

“Not drunk… just maybe buzzed… no— just a little more than that. I think tipsy, feeling a little…” His voice trailed off as he shook his hand, “Not all there, but not completely gone.”

His answer didn’t surprise you there.

“Maybe you should stay here or head back to your office for a little while and sober up.” You suggested, trying your best to help out. It wasn’t like he was drunk drunk, but it was definitely obvious there was something off about him— you knew that before you had your tongue in his mouth. You worried someone else might realize.

Jungkook sighed. “You’re right… things just feel easier like this…”

You walked a little closer, beckoning him to continue.

“It’s just getting harder and harder to make it through… I’m trying, but I’m just so weak. I wish I was stronger.” Jungkook tried to laugh, but his eyes were watery. He was glad you couldn’t see.

But even in the darkness, he noticed your concerned eyes staring up at him. Suddenly you were wrapping your arms around his frame. It wasn’t something he expected as your warmth embraced him in a whole new way, his eyes were wide and for a second the haze of the alcohol dissipated.

“You are strong… You managed to get out of your cozy bed today and brave going through this awful fucking weather to get to work.” You were trying to be funny, and it made you happy hearing Jungkook chuckle. “I’m serious though, just getting out of bed is worth celebrating— don’t say you’re weak because it’ll only make it more true the more you say it.” You said while gently rubbing his back.

Jungkook didn’t say anything for a while, he was just enjoying the feeling of you this close a little too much. “Thank you.” He smiled. He couldn’t say he believed that entirely yet, but it still felt nice hearing someone like you say that.

“No problem… and sorry—” You pulled back and it took everything in Jungkook not to try and go for another. “You just looked like you needed a hug.”

It probably only took away a hair off of the mountain that was all his problems, but still it helped. “Thank you, really.”

You smiled at him and Jungkook couldn’t stop the weird way his heart twisted in his chest as he stared at you.

“Anyway, I have a Christmas tree I need to go decorate.” You sighed, stretching your tired limbs.

Jungkook looked at you curiously.

“Apparently, all the teams on the floor are competing this year on who can decorate the best Christmas tree. Director Son is really passionate about it and beating the other teams, so we’re having an unofficial meeting to start working on it.”

As you spoke, Jungkook’s eyes widened as he remembered that the holidays were approaching fast, tomorrow was the first already. At this, Jungkook’s face fell.

“What, you think it’s stupid?” You questioned and Jungkook quickly shook his head.

“It’s not that—”

“Maybe the fact we aren’t working, because—”

“No… you guys are fine. December is just busy for me, and I don’t know— this year I’m not really too excited.” He sighed. He normally never was, but he knew exactly why this year felt so off. December meant he would have to face his and Yuri’s family again, and as if he couldn’t get any more pathetic, he needed to face them with the knowledge he was cheating on his wife. The “cheery” holiday spirit was just the cherry on top to bring him down. While everyone else was going to be out celebrating, he would be wallowing in his self misery, reflecting and thinking back to what a horrible year this turned out to be.

“Well, if you want to, you could always join our team in the competition if you need a little holiday cheer.” You were both joking and being incredibly serious. It was evident he wasn’t lying, and you were honestly worried about him. Maybe a little fun is what he needed.

Jungkook laughed. “I’ll think about it.” He wouldn’t, he wasn’t in the mood at all— he’d just bring everyone down with him.

“I hope so.”

You stretched again. “Anyway, were you heading out?” You questioned when he still hadn’t moved.

“Yeah, I think I’ll head back to the office like you suggested,” he couldn’t deny and say he wasn’t going to try and go for another beer. He recently bought a new pack to restock his fridge, but that was how he ended up tipsy today. He hoped he would get a grip and avoid it though, to actually heed your advice. He had work to do later. “But you can leave first and head out to get tangled in tinsel.”

You both laughed. “No, that’s not me, but I definitely know a few coworkers who I might need to detangle— Taehyung will somehow goof his way into getting wrapped up in decorations, then he’ll end up asking me to unravel him.” You laughed at the thought because, honestly, that would be something that he would do.

You didn’t notice Jungkook slightly frown at the mention of his name.

“Anyway, thank you for being here— sorry for pulling you here so suddenly.” He apologized.

“You’re fine, it won’t matter anymore. We shouldn’t have to worry about getting caught next time.” You smiled.

“Right… till then.” He weakly smiled back.

Another moment of silence passed, it was almost like you both wanted to say something, but none of you worked up the courage to spit out.

“Till next time then. Take care of yourself, okay?” You pointed a finger at him.

Jungkook just nodded.

“Oh, and don’t forget to eat lunch!” You were saying anything you could think of to keep yourself around just a little longer in case he wanted to spill what he had on his mind. You really were concerned.

Jungkook just nodded again.

You glanced at him worriedly before you started heading to leave. Your eyes maintained their gaze, but you finally broke away and opened the door. With the click of it closing, you were gone.

Jungkook was alone.

In an instant, his eyes crinkled while tears poured out and slipped onto his cheeks. Jungkook quietly clasped a hand over his mouth to muffle the sounds of his abrupt sobs.

Why does it hurt so much?

He just wanted it to end. Peace, he can’t go on like this much longer. All he wanted was a break from this hellish storm. Does it ever end? Everlasting, boundless, a harsh, brutal storm for the wicked. He couldn’t think of a more fitting punishment for people like him.

previous chapter « main masterlist ✩ series masterlist » coming...?

#bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #for the birds #bts #jungkook #bts fluff #bts angst #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bangtan boys #bangtan sonyeondan #bts fan fiction #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst

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lxdymoon0357 · 7 months ago

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Hey I hope you are doing well. Can I ask for a story on yandere Phinéas lapiléon x f reader of the manhwa my in-laws are obbsessed .please

(Oooo, good idea! I like the Lapileon family as well...| Noncon, kidnapping, forced usage of Lapileon blood, drugging, manipulation, usual yandere stuff. )

Yandere! Phineas Lapileon X Reader HCs

⋐ Phineas met you through his doctor degree, you both studied together. You were supposed classmates, he often kept you at arms's length, mainly cause he himself is reserved, but also to kind of protect you from his blood, he had no idea if he had a cut anywhere..He does to everyone he meets..

⋐ You and him slowly became friends and becoming friends with him took some time as the Lapileons are always more than distanced people, they barely make friends due to the fear of their blood going out and being revealed, it would put not only them in danger but a lot of others as well.

⋐ He would try to push you away, but after you showed no sign of wanting to do such a thing, he decided to give it a try, but was EXTREMELY careful around you, he never wanted you to be hurt.

⋐ He seeked you out at times when he felt he wouldn't be good enough. Phineas also began thinking of you as his precious little flower, you're so innocent and kind, not knowing what was concealed behind the Lapileon family's perfect image...

⋐ You didn't need to know that, not now atleast. What if you run away, Phineas can't have that now, can he? He would have you completely dependent on him, until he knows you won't leave him, before he kidnaps you.

⋐ He is gonna make sure to use Gin to his full extent, he's a shitty person hitting his kid, hiding her, abusing her ,using their blood for wrong things. What's one more thing of being shitty? He will make sure you have the completely and most perfect stay in his arms since it's gonna be your home from now.

⋐ Will guilt trip you, Islette and Celphi are close to you, they're kids they will tattle tale to Phineas and adults for anything you do. They love you, you're a family now. Worry not, everyone approves; Gloria, Therdeo, Pereshati and others, so you don't have to think about anything.

⋐ Will constantly check himself and other, other than Pereshati, for any single cut that will allow his blood out, is thinking of having Pereshati share some blood to you so you can be immune to their blood like she is, Pereshati is excited for that, you're her sibling-figure even if you don't accept it!

⋐ He is refusing to let anyone other than family be near you, he's thinking of actually moving in the manor instead of being away since it will help him to make sure the whole family is making sure you're with him

⋐ He is SO SO SO paranoid about you, cannot be away from you for even more than an hour, he has to be in you at this point and not only in the sexual way, but also the literal sense, he does want a kid afterall....bu he'll settle for snuggling inside you shirt.

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coco-loco-nut · 9 months ago

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loml

pairing: max verstappen x reader

summary: a journey through your relationship with max

a/n: so for a little background... my ex (he wasn't an F1 fan, it was never gonna work, let's be real) broke up with me the night before this album was released, so writing this series has been very healing; however, this one was extremely difficult to write bc it's the only song i can't analytically listen to and find the deeper meanings yet, especially after losing your first love. sorry for the rant and making this short🙃

tw: emotional abuse, manipulation

masterlist ttpd masterlist part two

________

You and Max were fan favorites, it was evident to anyone with eyes who had eyes. But they say you never know what happens behind closed doors.

“She’s the love of my life,” Max would always say about you, looking at you like you held the universe in the palm of your hand. His fans could recite your love story by heart from how much he loved to talk about you. It only made sense that he could shatter that public opinion.

“Y/n and I have divorced, I would like to ask for privacy as we navigate the changes,” Max posted one day, his socials wiped of everything. Your accounts remained the same, your last post being from the fateful race months ago. You haven’t posted since. The fans should’ve realized when the WAGs and George unfollowed Max.

Your apartment was full of things that reminded you of Max, every time you walked in it reminded you of every memory. He was embroidered in everything. You look at a printed photo of when you first met him. Despite it being six months later, you couldn’t get rid of him.

~~~

All it took was locking eyes with him across the pier for you to fall in love on that breezy summer day. He walked up to you and asked you to join him, and you did. You kissed him at the top of the ferris wheel later that night, and you didn’t even know he was famous all you knew was that he made you feel safe. The breeze reminded you of the warm ocean breeze from that day, one you called the winds of fate.

Despite being young, you married him after a year of being together. Things weren’t perfect even then, he could be incredibly mean, but he was also a standup guy when it mattered. That erased any wrongdoing of his.

“You have made me a better man, you reformed me, the love of my life,” Max had said that fall evening, repeating the one line that brought you back to him every time.

You believed his words, his lies spun to make you believe the hell you were living in was actually heaven. When he takes his anger out at you, doesn’t defend you against his father, you start to second guess him but he calls you those four words.

“I’ll never leave you, Schatje,” Max holds you in his arms, your back against his chest as you both look at a tv in the Paddock. The fans loved that photo, calling your love legendary. They didn’t know about the growing hole in your heart.

Your marriage was looking like one of those black and white movies you and Max watch on snowy winter afternoons. You and Max had been talking about starting a family, but you couldn’t get pregnant and you were watching everything you loved slip away.

“God, Max, you are like a con-man. I feel like I’ve been sold a get-love-quick scheme. What happened to you?” you ask, voice laced with hurt, during an argument about it. Max just ignored you, pushing past to stream with some friend. He ignored the sobs coming from your bedroom. He told the chat that you are the love of his life when asked about you.

“Y/n, we need to talk,” some of the WAGs pulled you aside during a race. They told you how Max was shit talking you to other drivers, saying you were a waste of a wife for your inability to get pregnant, saying he should’ve never married you, pointing out every flaw he told you was beautiful when he was lying to your face. You stand up and leave, not saying a word even when the girls try to stop you. Max is confused but simply responds to your text saying you were sick with an okay.

You are laying in your bed sobbing when Max gets back from the race. You face the terrace, where you and Max would dance under the stars. You can see the ghosts of it through your tears, and you wished you could un-recall when you thought you had everything.

“Please get out of bed,” Max says, his concerned tone laced with venom. Maybe the ghosts of your relationship are embarrassed by the scene on the other side of the glass.

“No,” you cry, mourning the loss of your counterfeit relationship.

“I’ll be back in a few hours,” Max sighs leaving the room. You sent a text to the WAG group chat who helped you remove all your belongings from Max’s apartment into George’s apartment that he wasn’t using at the moment.

Your phone is flooded with messages from Max, so you turn it off unless you are talking to your lawyer. Max finds a divorce petition and your apartment key on the dining room table when he comes home from training a few days later. The relationship that had such a valiant roar ended with the blandest goodbye.

You sit in George’s apartment with Carmen and Lily drinking wine. You took over George’s lease after they insisted that you did.

“For someone who claims to be a lion, he sure is a manipulative coward,” Carmen says as the three of you comb through the years of lies he spun.

You took the dreams that you thought you and Max wanted and lit the match to destroy them with your divorce papers. Despite your somber eyes, you seem more at peace, even with the sadness you will carry with you until you die.

“He’s the loss of my life.”

part two

#f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 grid #max verstappen #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #george russell

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koqabear · 8 months ago

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Divinity for the Damned

“There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin.”

“What sweet bliss it is to follow the teachings of God. To put in your faith and trust wholeheartedly, even if it means getting nothing in return.”

fallen angel! Beomgyu x fem!reader

Genre: horror, religious au, smut, angst

Word count 18.3K

warnings: i was delirious when i proof read this sorry in advance, very detailed descriptions/elements of the catholic church, mc is super duper religious, and innocent, lots of religious guilt, corrupt church members, assault in one scene, sacrilege and blasphemy i suppose, abuse of power, manipulation, guilt tripping, MCD, slight gore, violence, cannibalism…? aha…

smut warnings: dubcon/coercion, manhandling, mind breaking, corruption, virgin!mc, sub!mc, condescending soft dom!beomgyu, blindfolding/sensory deprivation? dacryphilia, fingering, oral (f. rec) edging, overstimulation, teasing, unprotected sex, creampie. lmk if i should add anything!

notes: hi guys! i have no idea how i got here.

[This story contains dark content. Please read the warnings carefully; I am not responsible for the content you choose to consume.]

The day is wintry and cast with a heavy snow; it is advised for citizens to remain inside due to the extreme weathers, flurries falling outside your bedroom window that is tinted with a frost that creeps from the corners. But it is Sunday morning, and a simple snowfall will do nothing to deter your humble duties.

Today, you rush to get ready; the layers of clothes on your form make it difficult for you to pull on your snow boots, thick and warm as your fingers fumble to lace and tie the shoes— you’ve begun to feel overheated, but you’re sure all the layers you have on will not go to waste the moment you exit your home. Standing with a huff of exertion, you pull the coat on you just a little bit tighter; with a gloved hand and one final glance at the clock, you finally open your door and make your way out.

The little village is quiet today. The snow is up to your ankles— it makes the trek to the church a little more difficult than usual, and it’s not as though the gravelly paths were any more helpful. A wind carries flurries into the air, sticking to your clothes and onto your hair— it makes your skin sting and your arms come up to hug yourself instinctually, a hand coming up to rest on your chest, almost able to feel the cross necklace that’s tucked beneath all your clothes— your fingers press against the layers, able to feel the pressure of the delicate charm on your skin.

Shops are open, but they aren’t very busy; it seems as though the snow has turned the place into a ghost town, and you wonder with a frown if a simple change in weather was enough to make people set aside their duties— in the distance, the tall pinnacles of the church begin to fade into view, a sight of a cross at the very top of each one bringing a sense of relief into your system, like a warmth that floods into your veins.

There are twenty minutes left before the mass begins. But even so, you note that there are not many others making their way inside— your frown tugs at your lips a little deeper, and you’re too lost in thought to take note of cracked path before you; your foot is catching and you fall to the ground unceremoniously, yelping at the impact and the snow that drenches your tights and dress within seconds.

Your knees sting; with the multitudes of layers you have on, it’s a lot more difficult to stand— you’re wincing in pain from both the cold and the fall, your gloved hands now soaked as you try to steady them on the ground to help you up; you stumble slightly, the weight of your clothes now doubled as you fall back onto your knees— you huff with frustration, your head hung down in defeat.

“Excuse me, are you alright?”

The voice is gentle and melodic; like a song in your ears, breathy, deep and smooth as you look up with surprise, not expecting anyone else to witness your fall— your face is heating up pitifully and your eyes are widening the moment they meet with those of a stranger, a man whose beauty is almost otherworldly; his hair is long and covered with flurries of snowflakes, decorated along his head and in his bangs like a crown— his face is blushing a soft red from the cold and his eyes are filled with concern; briefly, your eyes flicker up to his furrowed brows, taking notice of the scar that decorates his face, reddened and stopping just above his eye, a small deformity on his otherwise perfect face.

He looks like a prince.

“I–I’m… I’m fine,” you stutter out, still a bit dumbfounded by this captivating stranger, trying your best to remain composed as you take his outstretched hand for help; his hand is warm— no, it’s hot, even through your gloves— the contrast of temperature startling you for a moment; you try not to show it, much more distracted by the way his grip tightens instantly and he’s pulling you up with a surprising strength, the motion so sudden and unexpected that you’re stumbling out of balance; with a swift hand on the small of your back, the man steadies you.

“I’ve… never seen you around before,” you say softly, continuing your attempt to remain casual as you shrug his hands off you, taking a step back and trying to ignore the lingering heat his touch left— and you smile politely, hands folded in front of you as you tilt your head.

“Ah, I moved here recently,” the man explains, sending you a smile that’s just as charming as the rest of him; his eyes scan your sullied outfit, wet with snow and dirty at the knees, and he frowns. “You must be terribly cold. I suggest you go home and change.”

Your hands are patting your clothes off immediately in response; small clusters of snow that stuck to you fall off with every swat of your hands, attempting to rub at the dirt with your soaked gloves as you merely laugh him off and shake your head— you’re glancing back at the church in the distance, and are suddenly reminded of your responsibility.

“I’ll be alright, I assure you,” you say softly, doe eyes bright and optimistic, even if he seems doubtful of your words, “I have somewhere I need to be— it’s much warmer in there anyway.”

“Oh?” he says, raising a brow and scanning over your appearance once more, wondering what could possibly require such dedication from you, “may I ask where you’re headed?”

“Sunday mass,” you say eagerly, your voice sweet and lovely— and though his expression is suddenly unreadable, you remain enthusiastic as you continue, “If you’re not busy, I’d love for you to come— our church is beautiful, you’d get to meet so many amazing people.”

Mass is starting soon— you’re visibly antsy to go inside, yet you remain patient as you wait for the man’s answer— and though you’ve always been used to the polite turn downs from others you’ve offered to in the past, you can’t help but get your hopes up the longer you wait for a response.

He sighs; it’s soft and would have remained unnoticed under your gaze, except it comes out as a smoky puff of air due to the cold weather— his gaze skirts away from yours, lost in thought for a second, and you can feel yourself deflate as you begin to brace yourself for yet another rejection. But then he glances back at you, lips pursing and gaze taking you in slowly as he begins to speak. “I suppose I can,” he says gently, smiling at the way you’re immediately lighting up again, “I don’t have much else going on today anyway.”

A smile spreads through your face; you’re trying to control yourself and remain unfazed, but it’s a lot more difficult than you anticipated as you merely nod happily like a puppy— with his soft lead the way, you’re nodding again and taking him to your safe space.

“You never told me your name,” the man says suddenly, the two of you making your way up the steps to the church— you’re turning to him in surprise, mouth parting in slight shock as you realize that you really didn’t introduce yourselves— and you’re telling him your name softly, your tone a lot shyer than you expected, feeling small under the intense gaze of this handsome stranger. He laughs softly, eyes filled with amusement as he repeats your name back to you— it sounds so captivating and fragile on his lips, and you try to ignore the way the sound sends shivers down your spine.

“Beomgyu,” he says before you can direct the question back at him— and just like he did for you, you’re testing his name with your own voice, taking his nod of approval with a smile.

Conversation dwindles down the moment the two of you enter the building; it is low in light due to the cloudy day and the candle-lit lanterns that don’t fully light up the large establishment, and a warmth engulfs the two of you the moment the heavy wooden doors shut behind you; sending Beomgyu another encouraging smile, you take him softly by the arm and lead him further inside— you promptly stop at a small basin filled with holy water, dipping three of your fingers in and crossing yourself slowly, eyes fluttering shut and lips parting to mouth an unintelligible words— and while Beomgyu is presumably doing the same, you take this time to say a brief prayer.

Beomgyu simply watches you with blank eyes. He makes no movements to follow after you, watching apathetically as your brows twitch and your eyes remain shut for a few seconds more, sweeping his gaze over the area as he will his lips to not upturn in distaste— his expression morphs to one of content the moment you’re opening your eyes to look at him again, the only thing to fuel his feet to move being the way your delicate hand squeezes his bicep gently, as though you were leading a scared animal into the unknown— he can’t help but find your mannerisms amusing, filled with an overwhelming innocence he hasn’t seen in a long time.

As a child, your family moved a lot— going from town to town, your father offered newer and better opportunities due to his trade— and, just like you, your family remained dedicated during it all, never failing to find a church to become a part of, a place to spend their Sundays and worship their God. Because of this, you’ve seen and been in more churches than you can keep track of; able to take in different interiors and atmospheres, different communities and sermons— yet, despite attending more churches than this whole town combined, you’ve found that the one you currently stand in cannot even bear to rival the others— it is wholeheartedly your favorite.

Nothing quite compares to the feeling of warmth and comfort this quaint building brings you, from the friendly smiles others in the community send you the moment they see you, to the smell of incense and flowers that fills your nose the further you walk down the nave, automatically going to your usual pew closest to the altar; the spot is basically reserved for you at this point, anyone who has come to this church at least once knowing that the third pew away from the altar is your favorite spot.

Beomgyu trails a little behind you. A little hesitant, you think— it must be difficult being thrust into such a new environment so suddenly, and you’re stopping in your tracks to turn around and reach for him with a kind smile.

He seems startled by your sudden gesture. His expression is completely lightening up within seconds, and if you hadn’t been dreadfully nervous to offer him your hand so you could walk together, you would have been able to pinpoint the clear scorn in his gaze— instead, all you’re able to see is the way his brows raise in surprise and his gaze turns warm, smiling fondly as he takes your hand; he tucks it snuggly in the crook of his arm before he’s nodding at you to continue walking.

You’re suddenly much more aware of the eyes pinned on you— you’re sure many must be surprised to see you with someone new, always used to you coming in early and quietly, head bowed down and mind already lost in prayer— and in this condition nonetheless, your body heating up slightly as you stare down at the ghastly state of your clothes.

“Relax,” Beomgyu suspires, leaning close to your ear so only the two of you can hear his words; his other hand reaches to place itself over your gloved hand, and again, you can feel the heat of his touch permeating through the wool. “You look lovely. A bit of snow or dirt could never take away from your beauty.”

His sudden compliment has your face heating up and reacting drastically; you can only squeak out a flustered oh, in response, unable to do much more than look in the opposite direction and stare at the scarlet rug that rolls down the nave— and you’re arriving at your usual spot, close enough to the altar that you’re bowing in respect— stiffly, Beomgyu is pulled down with you; his jaw clenches at the action.

The sermon begins as usual and proceeds as it always does— though, with Beomgyu at your side, you seem to have garnered quite a lot of attention to you; from others around you eagerly wanting to wish you and Beomgyu peace, shaking his hand firmly and with looking up at him with awe-stricken eyes, to the priest’s gaze that inevitably falls back onto the two of you again and again, not used to the scrutiny in his eyes as you flush with heat at the sudden realization of what others might be assuming the two of you are— as subtly as possible, you try to make space between the two of you, using the armrest of the pew as your excuse to scoot away as you try your best to remain inconspicuous, pretending to get comfortable and resting your arm against it.

Beomgyu doesn’t seem to pick up on your particular train of thought— he’s sending you a curious glance before he’s closing the space between the two of you again, feeling the way your body stiffens and your back straightens the moment you feel him against you, thigh against thigh; the small pressure of his body against yours enough to have you flustering pathetically, lips pressing together as you try to keep your expression neutral.

But if there’s one thing Beomgyu has learned about you from the short time he’s gotten to know you, it’s that you’re undeniably terrible at keeping a poker face; all your thoughts are written across your expression clear as day and seep into your body language— anyone who has you in their line of sight would be able to immediately pick up on your flustered and shy state.

You’re such an innocent little thing; like a lamb, Beomgyu thinks, gaze visibly boring into your side profile as you attempt to pretend as though you’re unaware of it, even if the nervous fiddling of your fingers gives you away. There’s an air of purity around you that is simply enticing, unable to pretend as though he isn’t endeared to you the moment you finally break and turn to look at him once it is time to receive the eucharist, bright, wide eyes silently asking if he’ll join you— he shakes his head no gently, and you’re nodding in understanding before you finally scurry away to get in line.

Your heart is pounding; you’ve never thought a man could have such an effect on you, your poor brain confused and running laps to try to reason why you can’t even keep eye contact with him for more than a second— you’ve just met him, just a little bit ago, yet even so you can’t help but feel a strange pull toward him, undeniably charmed by both his looks and soothing aura— your hand goes to place itself onto your heart, a weak attempt to steady it’s erratic beating. The charm of your necklace presses against your skin, and as it nears to be your turn, you pray for your heart to have more resilience.

“The Body of Christ.”

Beomgyu watches as you stand dutifully before the priest. He watches as the older man stares down at you with an intense gaze, one that seems to hold silent disappointment; he watches as the priest looks back at him, their eyes meeting and his gaze hardening before it falls back onto you— with a twisted realization, Beomgyu realizes where this emotion stems from.

The priest is careful with you, hand reaching out to slowly place the Eucharist on your awaiting tongue; he’s gentle, as though you were made of nothing but glass, gaze following you even after you’re long gone.

You’re walking back with your hands clasped together and your eyes downcast, undoubtedly lost in prayer again. But even so, you can’t help but sneak a glance at Beomgyu once more, relieved to see his eyes weren’t on you already this time— instead, he’s watching the priest acutely, observing and analyzing his every move— and you feel star-struck by his beauty yet again.

The day outside must have cleared more; at least, that must be the case if there is light shining through the stained glass windows, myriads of colors casting themselves on the floors and the people around you— Beomgyu is not an exception to this, entranced with the sharp reds, purples and blues that cast onto his delicate skin, making his appearance seem more otherworldly than it already was.

His brows furrow. Part of his face is lit up with a faint red from the window, hitting his right eye and the scar above it— suddenly, his eyes are flickering back to meet yours, and you’re jumping slightly in surprise; his eye is practically glowing.

Your gaze becomes downcast again. You try to ignore the feeling of him watching as you kneel down and begin your prayer once more, staring at the altar and at the captivating marble statues, eyes falling onto the candles that hypnotize you by its flickering flame, lost in thought as the taste of wine that lingers on your tongue becomes the only thing you’re still aware of.

Beomgyu makes no attempts to conceal his desperation to leave the moment mass is over. His goodbyes are brief and he manages to pull you along, simply because you’d feel bad if you didn’t accompany him out. You’re almost out the front doors, so close to leaving, only to be stopped the moment you’re stepping outside, not expecting the priest to slip out of the doors behind you, calling out your name and asking you to wait; obedient as always, you’re practically frozen on the steps of the church— Beomgyu doesn’t bother to hide the clear distaste on his face as he hears the priest ask for a word with you; in private.

Without hesitation, you’re scurrying up the steps and meekly asking Beomgyu if he was going to stay— you can’t help but be surprised at the immediate nod of his head in response.

“Lovely seeing you today. Like always,” the priest says, sending you a fond smile that you eagerly return; he’s taking a step close to you, voice lowering slightly as he continues. “This is the first time I’ve seen you attend with someone else.”

“Ah,” you say quietly, evidently flustered by the breach of this subject; you’re turning away from him to glance back at Beomgyu, who sends you a small smile the moment your eyes meet. “I met him this morning— he aided me when I fell, and agreed to join me when I invited him to today’s mass.”

The priest frowns. You’re taken aback by the clear disapproval in his eyes, blinking owlishly as you silently question what’s wrong— the priest is taking another step closer to you, his brows pinched together and his voice cautious as he speaks.

“My child,” he begins carefully, taking in your wide and curious eyes as he warns you, “It is admirable of you to spread God’s word so dutifully. I admire your devotion to both our Lord and this community.”

“However,” he says solemnly, “I advise you to be very careful. You have only just met him after all.”

The two of you glance back at Beomgyu, who leans against the stairway with a blank expression, staring out at the snowy scenery before him as he waits for the two of you to finish; he can feel your stares on him, but he doesn’t bother to look back, already knowing where this conversation must be headed.

“Oh Father,” you say softly, giving him a reassuring smile, “you shouldn’t worry, I know how to handle myself.”

And, Beomgyu has been nothing but kind to you, you think to yourself, though you know better than to rely solely on the limited hours you’ve spent together.

“Of course. Though you can’t blame me for being concerned,” he says, taking yet another step closer to you— the space between you is limited now, and you’re unable to stop the way you retreat subconsciously in response.

“I wouldn’t want anything to happen to,” he reaches up to place a hand on your shoulder, heavy and making you stiffen at the sudden contact; it remains there, thumb rubbing soft circles on your coat, “such a dedicated servant of God. It is my duty to protect you, child.”

He is reluctant to let you go. You breathe out a soft laugh and smile, taking another step back and watching as his hand slides down your arm, his touch lingering and grabbing at your hand momentarily; he squeezes it in an attempt to give you reassurance, and you nod.

“I understand,” you say quietly, pulling your hands in close to your chest, clasping them together as you take another step back, “I must leave now, Father.”

His lips press, as though disappointed to see you leave to soon— but then he nods in understanding, wishing you a blessed day and encouraging you to stop by anytime; you nod, bidding him one last goodbye before you’re turning around and descending the stairs— you miss the way his eyes harden and his brows knit together the second they meet Beomgyu’s, lips pressed to a thin line as he watches the two of you for a moment more.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting,” you say meekly, feeling a smile grow on your face the moment Beomgyu simply shakes his head in reassurance, boldly taking your hand and placing it in the crook of his arm once again; a gesture that has your body warming up as much as his touch warms you, allowing him to pull you close to him as you walk away— he allows you to speak about whatever is on your mind, listening intently as he glances back at the church one final time.

At the top of the stairway, the priest remains, watching. Beomgyu is unfazed at the sight, and instead of returning the harsh glare the older man sends him, his lips curl into a smile— wide and wicked, showing off his perfect teeth and sharp canines that adorn his mouth, confusing the man before him— and his expression switches in the blink of an eye the moment you squeeze at his bicep subconsciously to get his attention as you speak, leaning in to ask what he thought of today’s mass.

“It was lovely,” Beomgyu says smoothly, eyes crinkling into a fond and kind smile. You’re returning the smile without hesitation, feeling as though it’s become second nature to your being now.

“I think I’ll be seeing you around more.”

≪⋆⋅☆⋅⋆≫

The two of you part ways once you’ve reached the center of town. Beomgyu tells you he has somewhere he needs to be, and you explain that you still have a few errands to do; with the promise to see each other again soon, you’re reluctantly bidding him goodbye.

He asked if you’d be willing to show him around the town a bit more; if you’d like to show him your favorite places to eat and visit— you told him yes in a heartbeat.

With new promising plans with this handsome stranger, you felt lighter on your feet— a giddiness that undoubtedly was written all over your face, laughing shyly at the remarks others would give in regards to your good mood; and though the trek back to your little cottage on the outskirts of town was a long one, you didn’t seem to particularly mind it today.

The rest of your day is quiet; peaceful like always, not a soul stopping by to interrupt your day. You’ve fallen back into routine, and with your sudden encounter with Beomgyu earlier, you’ve begun to realize how mundane your everyday life is— you’re suddenly antsy, waiting anxiously for the day to bleed into the next so you’re able to see him again.

Night falls and you have yet to forget about him. Beomgyu’s soft gaze and kind smile, the way he hovered over you and humored your spontaneous offer to join you— his touch that warmed you through your layers of clothing and left your body hot and flustered.

This sudden change in your train of thought has you snapping back to reality; your eyes are blinking into focus and you’re now hyper-aware of the hot water that runs over your skin, the dishes in your hands that you had absentmindedly been washing— and you’re straightening up to stare out your window, feeling a breeze slip through the small opening and hit your warm face; you definitely need it, you think to yourself, scolding yourself for thinking of such scandalous things about a man you just met.

You think you’ll go to bed early; with the final dish placed on your drying rack, you’re off to your bathroom, washing up before you make your way into the bedroom, slipping into nothing more but a thin nightgown; the moonlight casts a glow on your figure as you change, already feeling sleep weigh your eyes as the soft silk of your gown brushes against your skin.

Your bed feels a lot more comfortable than usual; your body is more tired than you realized. The blankets weigh down on you securely, and any restless thought seems to dissolve in your mind the moment your head is resting against your soft pillows— for the first time in a long, long time, you’re able to achieve a peaceful, immediate slumber.

Poor thing; today’s events must have truly exhausted you. After all, being around a demon for such a long time takes a lot of energy.

Beomgyu watches the soft rise and fall of your chest with fond eyes and a small smile. He thinks that the moonlight casts a truly angelic glow on your face, unaware and peaceful to the dangers around you— not much of a difference from your awake self, the man muses.

The energy you emit is as pure as the light in your eyes; innocent, untainted by the horrors of the world. Unlike the rest of this town and their putrid thoughts, their intentions to rip you apart and force you to stoop as low as them, you’ve remained the same: devoted to your God, devoted to live an honest and peaceful life— your being is nothing short of angelic, and Beomgyu has found himself addicted to it.

He’s weakened— you remind him of the life he used to live, the person he once was before he gave in to the beauty of temptation, ensnared for eternity to the carnal sin that allowed him to reject the teachings of his god. He’s lived this life longer than he can remember, memories of pure beings and a light heart long gone; it��s instead been replaced by an insatiable hunger and instincts that led him to you.

Beomgyu wasn’t supposed to find himself here, he supposed. Damned to nothing but a void of flames that seared and marred his skin, to be given bodies of those who shared the same sin as him— indulging in his cravings, but never truly satiating them, just enough to keep his soul hooked and coming back for more, a constant cycle of addiction and hunger and desire.

But this is — you are — different. Just being near you is enough to get Beomgyu’s heart racing, his body buzzing with a slight nervous energy that begs to just touch you, to take you, to use you. His body is weak, drained from its descent from the heavens and its unexpected escape from his perpetual state of limbo, from his punishment. His bones ache and his skin begs to be with you, his soul guiding the rest of him to find you; just one night with you could keep him strong for eons.

Such a cruel hand life has given you. Because now that Beomgyu has found you, he’s made a silent vow to not let you escape from his hands; you’re the perfect prey, innocent and trusting and charmed by the closest thing to ever be graced by God's presence.

He closes his eyes, and hones in on your energy— to properly entangle you in clutches, Beomgyu must begin to plant the seeds in your mind; seeds of doubt and want, seeds that will allow you to see the world as is and bring you into his awaiting, protecting arms.

After a moment, he finally feels it; the soft beating of your heart, the aura that hums like an enticing melody. Deep breaths bring a slow rise and fall to his chest, allowing it to match the rhythm of your own. A harmony is created between the two, and only then does Beomgyu finally feel it— your mind is inviting him in. He suppresses the triumphant smile that makes his lips twitch.

Declining such an offer would be quite rude, wouldn’t it?

≪⋆⋅☆⋅⋆≫

You wake with a start.

Your chest feels as though it might cave in and your gown sticks to your skin in an unbearable way, your body exuding so much heat that you’ve found yourself covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Your mind is racing, you feel as though your heart is ready to burst out of your chest— what happened, why do you feel like this?

It takes a minute before everything else floods back in. A wave of shame and horror washes over you, searingly hot against your skin as you find yourself throwing the covers of your bed off your body, reaching over at your nightstand instinctively and kneeling at your bedside; your hands shake slightly as you try to ground yourself with the feeling of the rosary beads against your palms.

Prayers leave your lips like a waterfall; attempting to forget the dream— the nightmare— that your mind conjured, surely nothing but a test of faith and temptation to make you stray from the path you painstakingly set up for yourself.

The beads of the rosary dig deeper into your palms. Your hands press tighter together, your face screwed into a frown of concentration, attempting to rid yourself of the way your mind seems to want to do nothing but wander. Wander to the foreign feeling of a hand gliding against your skin, a smooth path along your bare back and chest, lips that caressed your neck and whispered nothing but praises and promises of divinity and eternal life.

A shudder rips through your body like an earthquake. You must rid yourself of these thoughts.

Your will is strong, but the temptation is stronger; it sings memories and images from your nightmare, appearing at the most inconvenient moments and making your every movement falter— when you change, vibrant images and raw skin replacing the sight of your body in the mirror with one of pure lust and sin, when you prepare to go out, tucking the rosary safely underneath your layers of clothes, and as you spot Beomgyu in the distance, waving at you with a kind smile on his face; shame bubbles hotly beneath your skin, and you hope that the man who asks you to lead the way with bright eyes simply blames the flustered look of your face on the cold, the pure snow around you.

“You must be cold,” Beomgyu muses softly, turning to you and suddenly cupping your face; wide eyes meet his as you merely remain still, unsure of what to do as the feeling of his hot hands cupping your flushed skin only make it burn hotter, embarrassment eating you up as his brows twitch at the feeling; he raises a brow, tilting his head in confusion as he inspects you slowly. “Or… perhaps not? Your face is burning.”

“I’m so sorry,” you manage to spit out, taking a step away from him and averting his gaze entirely, hands pressed firmly against your pounding heart, “I’m sorry if I seem to be acting strange, I’m not sure what has gotten into me.”

Beomgyu shakes his head softly, brows knitted together with worry— oh, you must seem to have lost it, you think to yourself, biting your lip and attempting to brush off your skittish behavior with a soft laugh, Beomgyu must find you strange now.

And whilst Beomgyu continues to feign concern for you, brushing off all your apologies and maintaining a curious facade, his body practically buzzes with excitement; poor, innocent thing, one simple dream was enough to bring you right to where he wanted you— one dream was enough to fluster and break down the solid fortitude you once set up for yourself, the man before you catching you so off guard that you never had a moment to question the sudden turn of events; he had you right where he wanted you, smiling to himself at the way you could barely maintain eye-contact before you were flustering and looking away.

You told yourself it would pass with time. But hours fly by with Beomgyu and nothing changes— if anything, everything simply got much, much worse— the man seemed to have found solace within you, getting comfortable and finding confidence in being subtly affectionate with you; holding your hand and pulling you along to show you something, brushing the corner of your mouth and teasing you for being such a messy eater, and holding a firm hand at the small of your back while you walked— you couldn’t pretend to be unaware of everyone’s stares even if you tried.

“Such a small town, isn’t it?” Beomgyu muses to you, taking in the scenery, the people that wander the streets; he finds his eyes meeting with every person they land on, holding back a sneer at the way their stares linger with fascination, landing on you with a myriad of emotions: envy, lust, disdain, he sees it all. “I feel like there’s someone watching us at all times.”

“Oh, I suppose,” you say sheepishly, as though you were the one to blame for his discomfort, “I apologize, I had no idea it would be this busy today— but it’s natural to be curious, I know they mean well.”

Beomgyu nods thoughtfully at your claim; surely, there’s only so much innocence you can harbor before it begins to become naivety— do you really believe such lies? But of course, you’re filled with nothing but surprises, the clear look in your eyes telling him that your words are more for you to believe than him.

When the sun is beginning to set and the street lamps are beginning to get lit up, Beomgyu sees your mood flip like a switch; you’re getting antsy, you must want to leave soon. It doesn’t take a genius to guess what might be going on in your mind at the moment.

“You must be tired,” Beomgyu says, slowing to a stop before turning to face you; you led him to one of your favorite parks, taking him into the maze of a garden and along your favorite trail, the light and excitement in your face enough to make the scenery around him seem dull.

You look like a deer caught in headlights at his words; was it so obvious? You stammer and try to sugarcoat how you feel unsure of how to tell him that you want to leave now, not because you’re tired of his presence, but because you feel as though you’re not in your right mind at the moment.

Oh, how could you possibly tell him that the reason you must leave soon is because you feel a nauseating urge to repent? That, as soon as you say your final goodbyes, smiling shyly and turning around to walk away from him with a haste, you’re going to make your way straight to the church? The night is cold but your body is far from it, face burning with shame as you walk into your sanctuary with a haste, unsure of how to deal with the fact that you’re thinking very impure thoughts over a man you’ve just met; the very reminder is enough to make your stomach lurch once more.

The warmth of the building doesn’t feel as welcoming anymore; it only makes your body hotter, breaking out with a light sweat as you slowly approach the basin of holy water, dipping your fingers in and slowly crossing yourself— you take a deep breath, ignoring the flames of shame that eat at you as you walk inside.

The confessional is just by the entrance, at the very end of the left wall and tucked in safely from any private eyes. The velvet curtain beckons you, and as you rush over in a haste, you can’t bring yourself to catch eyes with the priest that stands by the altar, having caught sight of you immediately— there was no one else that would come here so late at night but you.

You sit at the very edge of your seat, hunched over and staring at your lap as you wait. You can feel the heat of the single lightbulb above you on your back, searing into your nape as you pick at your nails anxiously. It feels like time has frozen within this small booth you’ve cooped yourself in, the heat of it all only making you more restless as you wait, head ducked down in shame, much too afraid to look into the screen that separates you from the only other person that will ever know about the dark thoughts that plague you.

After what feels like an eternity, you hear footsteps approaching; you peek up instinctively, just in time to watch the velvet curtain on the other side get pushed open— your head goes back down hurriedly.

It’s not too often you come into the confessional, but you still find yourself doing the routine like you were born to do so. Your hand crosses yourself dutifully, licking nervously at your dry lips that part to speak— your voice feels timid and broken, the words you speak heavy on your tongue.

“Bless me father, for I have sinned.”

It’s been about four weeks since you last confessed, you tell him, wringing your hands together as you attempt to find the words to say, feeling as though a heavy lump in your throat prevents you from expressing the truth; it’s too much, you find yourself thinking, the burden and shame of it all bringing a heat to your cheeks, reluctant to voice your sins aloud. Moments pass and you have said nothing, but the priest on the other side remains patient— the silence and the heat of his stare through the screen only makes you more aware of the guilt that sits in your stomach.

“Father, I don’t know what to do,” you sob softly, the dam finally breaking in one, swift motion; words spill from your lips with abandon, unable to keep track of what to say as you scoot close to the screen, barely on your seat as you lean your forehead against the cool wood.

“I have restrained myself all my life, I’ve avoided the temptation that is thrown my way, the dangers presented to me— I’ve remained strong— yet…” you swallow thickly, a shuddered sigh leaving your lips as your hands brace themselves against the screen; your palms press against the sturdy structure, a false sense of security as you hesitate to say the words you’re about to admit, “yet— these past few days I’ve been plagued with nothing but thoughts of lust. Of blasphemy.”

For a moment, there’s only silence. Memories seem to bubble up from the confession, detailed and vivid, playing against your eyes that screw shut as though in pain.

It’s all wrong. So, so so wrong, the warm feelings that stir within unfamiliar as you remember all the thoughts that fill your mind throughout the day.

“It’s unlike me— I’ve never found myself to think anything so crude, so immoral,” you say, hanging your head with shame, “Yet I find that I cannot stop. Father, I’ve prayed and I’ve remained abstinent, but the thought that I fear the most is the one… that makes me doubt whether I’m on the right path.”

On the other side of the screen, you’re faintly able to make out his figure shifting. Your hesitation is evident as you finally admit something you hadn’t been able to accept yourself.

“Father, I’m afraid that I’ll give in.”

More silence follows. You’re sure that the priest must be in deep thought on the other side, but the silence only seems to make you more anxious; how low you’ve come, a voice within you chides, wanting to throw away your purity for a man you’ve just only just met. How vile.

The voice is cold and blunt and unlike your own— the sudden thought startles you, your spine straightening as you look around you, a shiver going throughout your body. Inevitably, you look through the screen once more. On the other side, you’re able to see the faint image of the priest, his head hanging and lost in thought.

You feel as though you’re in a daze for the rest of your time there; you can only nod softly with every piece of advice he offers you, telling you to remain strong and trust that your faith in God will guide you to the right path— he tells you to pray, to devote yourself to the church in any way you can, your penance weighing your heart as you agree to it all.

“My child, be aware that this is another test of your faith. You mustn’t give in,” he finally says, stopping you in your motion to leave, “You are a pure flower, bound to attract others who do not have your best interest in mind.”

Hesitantly, you nod, unsure if you’re deserving of this praise he sings to you.

“If you ever find yourself in doubt, know that you can always come to me.”

There’s an odd feeling that blooms within you at his words; you know you should feel comforted, honored to have someone to support you in your time of need, but instead you can only muster a wry smile, whispering a soft of course before you’re exiting the booth in a haste.

Glancing behind you, you’re reassured to see that the priest has yet to come out; you don’t think you could face him any time soon, knowing that despite the anonymity of the booth, your identity is quite obvious.

No one else resides in the church as you make your way down the nave and down to your usual spot. Your footsteps feel heavy on the rug as you stand before the altar, head tilted up to be able to take it all in properly; the marble statues that look as though they might come to life, the angels that bow down and the intricate details that go to frame the cross in the middle— you stare up at the altar for what feels like hours, the guilt in your heart weighing you as you take a deep bow and go to sit.

Your mind is calm, but your heart is restless; you pray for forgiveness and plead to not be led astray, yet something within you itches to do just that— a tug at your heart, wondering what it would be like to indulge yourself for once— you’ve seen the other members of your church, the way they comply and worship yet change in the blink of an eye once they’re out of this sanctuary— so, would it really be that bad? You’ve seen their actions, know their hearts; they treat you so kindly, worship your lord so devoutly— so, is it really unjust for you to do the same?

Your nails dig deep into your skin, a way to snap yourself out of that train of thought, scolding yourself for thinking this way of others around you— for attempting to reason with the whispers of temptation that attempt to lure you.

How long you spend lost in thought is unknown to you— minutes, maybe hours, your knees sore and your clasped hands clammy as you rest your forehead against them, eyes screwed shut and lost in prayer; it was a meditation of sorts, finally able to cast out straying tangents and focus on one thing. Your breathing is slow, tired, your body slowly giving in to the exhaustion, muscles weighing you down as you continue to pray— it isn’t until you’ve found yourself about to doze off that you realize you must leave.

When you stand, you’re shaken awake instantly. You could’ve sworn you’d be the only one left in the building by now, yet the priest still lingers by the altar, tending to the candles and shifting about— the smile you send when he glances behind curiously and meets your eyes must seem as ingenuine as it feels, because you see his expression fall instantly.

It’s important to rest. You must be seeing things, you think, tightening your coat around you before you’re stepping out of your pew and turning to leave— your steps are unconsciously haste, your arms that wrap around yourself unnaturally tight, yet you still flinch the moment your name is being called— softly, but still echoing throughout the building.

You find yourself feeling reluctant as you turn. Your words are timid as you address him.

“Yes Father?”

Upon your surprise, he is not too far from you— as though he had been mere steps behind, wanting to close the gap between you two as he continues to move forward; he sends you a soft smile, head tilting in curiosity and brows furrowing in worry as he speaks.

“My dear, are you leaving? At this hour?” he asks, watching you nod meekly, “But it is so dangerous; it is far too cold and dark for someone like you to be out alone.”

Sheepishly, you smile, hands wringing themselves without you realizing.

“It’s quite alright, Father. I’m stronger than you think.”

The soft laugh he lets out is meant to be lighthearted, though you can’t help but think it’s one of disbelief instead.

“I’m sure, but you must understand my concern; to let you leave alone like this would be wrong of me.” His smile is fond as he steps closer to you, gesturing behind him as he proposes, “Why don’t you stay here for the night? It’d be much safer.”

“Oh, thank you Father, but I think it’d be better for me to go to my home instead,” you say softly, pressing your hands firmly against your beating heart, “I have a busy day tomorrow, and I don’t think it’d be wise to rest on the pews.”

He laughs again, shaking his head in amusement; your brows knit together in slight confusion, laughing along hesitantly nonetheless.

“Of course my dear,” he starts, your smile widening in hopes that he’s giving up this small fight, “but that’s not what I was referring to.”

“I meant that you should rest here tonight,” he repeats again, voice softening as he continues, “with me.”

Your eyes widen in shock— it’s painted all over your face as well, unsure of what to make of his sudden offer as you resort to letting out an incredulous laugh instead.

“Oh Father, I couldn’t possibly—” you gulp, softening your tone at the sight of his confused face, “It– it wouldn’t be right. I mustn’t disturb you.”

“But you wouldn’t be disturbing at all,” he insists, taking a step toward you, talking animatedly with his hands as he does, “I’m inviting you, afterall, I’d love the company— it does get lonely sometimes, I must admit.”

You attempt to maintain a look of understanding, nodding along to his every word— but you remain firm in your stance regardless as you respond.

“I understand, and I truly do appreciate the offer,” you try again, beginning to walk back despite the slow souring of his face, “but, even so, I really must leave—”

“Why?” he suddenly interrupts, his voice sharp and his expression cold, “why are you so insistent on leaving?”

“I’m tired, is all—”

“Lies.” he shuts you down again. “All of it. For if you were true to your word, you’d have no issue accepting my offer to accommodate you.”

Shaking your head, you shrink within yourself, shoulders caving in as he begins following your steps— you attempt to give him reason, to be polite and kind, yet he hears none of it.

“You come to plead for forgiveness yet are so quick to run back to your old ways,” he says, his every step like a resounding boom in your mind— you deny him adamantly again, but all you get in response is a cold look.

It seems as though you’ve nowhere to go— the doors had been shut due to the cold and your back presses against it, but before you can reach for the handle and open your only exit, you find yourself trapped— the priest’s hand is heavy as it slams on the handle, the loud sound causing you to jump and yelp in surprise.

“Can’t you see? I only want what’s best for you,” you feel as though you might merge with the wood of the door as you press yourself to it, eyes glued to the floor in an attempt to escape the cruel wrath of the priest that towers above you, spitting words of discipline, “It’s dangerous for you out there. You haven’t the slightest idea what would happen to you if you were found like this— alone, helpless, defenseless.”

“I have gone out of my way to provide you shelter, yet you refuse; I know what it is you’re truly adamant to get back to,” he grits, as though it pained him to say— his eyes narrow, watching as you merely tremble and refuse to look at him, finding himself tired of you not meeting his eye— the cry you let out is insignificant as he takes hold of your shoulders, shaking you and crouching down to meet your face.

“And I will not have you whoring yourself out to another man! ” Your eyes are screwed shut now, tears threatening to flow down as you reach for the hands on your shoulders, attempting to pry them off— he pays no mind to your attempts, continuing to scream in your face until you find that you can withstand no more.

“Please! Let me go!”

Your chest heaves. Your wide eyes are brimming with tears and your legs are shaking terribly, just like your hands that have just shoved the priest off you; he seems just as shocked as you are, mouth parted in surprise before he finally goes to regain his composure.

“I-I’m so sorry Father, I–” your voice breaks and you feel the hot streams of tears on your cheeks, a trembling hand reaching behind you in search of the handle— when you find it, you immediately pull it open.

“I–I— I must go, I’m so sorry, please forgive me, I didn’t mean it, I’m so—”

“You do not deserve to be deflowered and tainted by the evils of this world,” the priest says, his voice hoarse and stopping you effortlessly in your tracks; he doesn’t bother looking at you anymore, staring at your feet with a pinched expression of frustration instead. “But if that is what your blasphemous heart truly desires, then so be it.”

When his head raises and his eyes meet yours, you’re stunned— his eyes shine, a forlorn look settled within them.

“You were so perfect, my child,” he says softly, frowning at the fear in your eyes, the heavy heaving of your chest, “you were divine.”

“May God have mercy on your soul.”

Brows furrowing together, you deny him one last time— this time, he simply watches as you slip out the door, fleeing with sharp steps and sobbing quietly into your hands, cheeks stinging from the cold.

The path before you is dim— the trek to your home is long. Without realizing, you think of the priest’s warnings, tears an endless stream as you part your lips in a soft whisper.

“Oh Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our protection…”

Through the long journey back to your way home, you sob and you pray. By the top steps of the church, hidden by the columns and tucked safely into the darkness, Beomgyu watches. He watches until your figure is nothing but a small speck against the vast landscape of the town, your trembling body and the echoes of your soft sobs ingrained into his mind.

Slowly, he turns back to look at the doors, into the small sliver of warm light provided by your failure to close the door properly.

His eyes catch movement; a grin grows on his face.

≪⋆⋅☆⋅⋆≫

Tonight, it seems as though your heart and your mind have finally conceded. Tonight, you dream deeply.

In your dreams, it is all a haze; you’ve found yourself within the holy sanctuary once more, slowly making your way down the nave, past the crowded pews of hooded figures with their heads ducked down, hands folded dutifully in front of you and your eyes pinned straight ahead. The altar beckons you, the thickened, incensed air bringing a calm through your system as you walk. You walk and you walk, eyes pinned on the cross that looms over you.

The path seems to warp— the nave seems never-ending, the carpet slowly becoming worn and darkened with every step you take— your heart beats a little faster now, nails digging into your skin with a subconscious tension; yet you continue to walk, whether you want to or not.

Everything feels so heavy. You feel lethargic and dizzy, feeling as though submerged underwater, limbs moving oh so slowly; the room around you has begun to darken, unable to halt your trek down to the altar no matter how much you try— everything has begun to fade to black, the pews of people turning to dust, the carpet beneath you disappearing beneath your feet— the only thing that remains steady is the altar in front of you and the steps you take.

You can’t breathe— have you been breathing at all? It’s a fleeting thought that crosses your mind, the burning of your lungs and the pressure on your chest sudden and alarming— the smell of incense no longer enters your system, but you can still feel the air thicken around you; somehow, your eyes remain wide open through it all, stuck onto the mesmerizing, pure altar that remains on its fixed point in the distance.

It feels as though hours have passed, and you’ve yet to make any progress. Your body remains still as the darkness around you. Just when you’ve begun to wonder if there will ever be any end in sight, something changes.

It’s subtle, at first— you think it might just be a trick of the mind. The very edges of the altar have started to fade into the darkness, the sharp edges of the pure, white marble statues turning fuzzy— the wings of the angels, the top of the cross, the podium that holds it all up— it’s fading into the abyss, becoming one with the eternal nothingness around you— and as much as you feel yourself panic, wanting to speed your pace, break into a run in a weak attempt to stop it— you can’t. The sound of your steps is like a metronome in your ears, falling against the void and keeping you still. All you can do is watch.

Your eyes remain wide open throughout it all. Your dress sways with every step you take, your body not realizing that soon enough, you’ll be walking towards nothing. The faces of the angel’s are now fading into obscurity, the darkness prickling at Jesus’ nailed hands and thorned crown; your heart hammers against your chest, forced to watch as it pools around Mary’s feet.

The few remnants of the holy altar are slowly being swallowed by this strange darkness; sorrow fills your weak being, wondering why it is that your body continues to walk forward— there is nothing left to go to, the last of Mary’s bowed body getting lost into the abyss— and as your eyes scan her smooth, marble complexion, you catch on a single crimson tear, welling up at the inner corner of her eye, able to watch it grow as though you were standing inches before it— it grows and grows, until it can no longer stay still. The path it runs down the smoothness of her cheeks is striking, a sharp trail left behind as it drips off into nothing.

The last of her fades away.

There is nothing but darkness ahead of you; even so, you continue forward. Your mind has emptied, body becoming lax as the steps you take become effortless, light, like walking on air. Your eyelids feel heavy with sleep, the haze in your brain returning twice as strong.

You can feel yourself walking, but you cannot see anything; not even yourself. A voice within wonders if you might be left to walk forever, towards an end goal that will never show itself to you.

Come to me.

Despite your shock, you do not halt. The voice is soft and sweet, like dripping honey— it’s only three words, but even so, you find yourself entranced, following the command even if you’re unsure whether you’re going the right direction.

Closer, come.

The voice beckons you so effortlessly, like a leash that wraps around your figure, pulling you forward, following your instinct to continue to walk, to explore what it is that calls to you so sweetly.

Unlike the altar that has now been lost on your once worried mind, something has begun to fade into view. It is soft and hazy, with a slight glow that hurts your eyes— unable to make out what it is you’re now making your way towards, eyes dilating and adjusting slowly.

A bright, ruffled shirt, a corset that’s tied tightly, long flowing sleeves covering the hands that rest leisurely at their sides; your gaze is quick to sweep up their appearance, a quick observation before you move onto what tugs at your curiosity the most— only to find that their face remains obscured by the darkness, a slight blur of what could be registering in your mind— you think you see soft, plump lips that curl into a reassuring smile, but it might be wishful thinking, if anything at all.

Slowly, they raise a hand— calling you closer, the path beneath you finally beginning to shrink with each step you take— their fingertips outstretched toward you, as though expecting you to do the same. And even when you fail to mirror their actions, they refuse to falter, accepting you as you are.

It is only when you stand before them that your body finally stops. Your face expressionless as you observe the person in front of you carefully, oddly hesitant to accept their offer. You stand for a moment, left in a standstill as the figure lets out a soft, echoing laugh.

Do not be afraid, they tell you, their words wrapping around you warmly, take my hand.

You blink. Your body suddenly feels like your own, the grounding heaviness of your limbs making you realize that it is now you who controls what you do next; glancing down at yourself curiously, you look back up at the figure, where they remain waiting expectantly.

You take a step closer. Their smile widens slightly.

Good, they say, soft and deep like a purr, closer.

Slowly, you bring a hand up, finding a slight hesitation to make contact with this outstretched hand— and, as though hearing your doubts, the figure chuckles, teasing and lighthearted, as though already aware of what you will choose in the end.

When your skin touches theirs, you feel nothing. It is like air under your palm.

Your grip tightens, unsure if you’ve taken their hand at all; before you can so much as take a breath, their hold shifts, hand sliding forward and deft fingers wrapping tightly around your wrist, fingertips digging into the skin— you’re pulled in without warning, stumbling forward and crashing into their strong chest.

Looking up, you find that you cannot bring yourself to feel afraid— their smile is radiant as they look down at you, the faint outline of their head much too fuzzy for you to understand— the air cracks as two pure wings stretch out, curling around the two of you and moving to cage you in shortly after— feathers fly around the air from the aggressive movement, fluttering around before they rot black, lighting at the quill and turning to ashes, the crackling sounds filling your ears as you look around you in confusion, only to get the sight obscured by the darkening wings that trap you.

Eyes on me, the voice says, echoing in your mind, following their command immediately. The soft smile that remained on their lips can no longer be contained, growing into a grin that shows off brilliant canines that shine down at you. I will give you everything you seek.

Feeling the twinge of hope in your heart, the figure pulls you closer still, allowing your body to press against theirs.

Seek me, they whisper lowly, a hand beginning to snake around your waist, dancing fingertips pressing into the small of your back— leaning down, they whisper softly into your ear.

Find me in our sanctuary, you can hear their grin through their words, and I will give you all you yearn for.

Their lips ghost over the shell of your ear.

Quickly.

Before you can react, they dissolve to nothing.

You’re left alone in the abyss once more.

≪⋆⋅☆⋅⋆≫

When you startle awake, you find that it is still nighttime; sitting straight up in your bed, you look out the window— snow falls peacefully, the quietness of the scenery doing nothing to calm your beating heart.

The dream.

Words and messages echo throughout your mind, unsure of what to make of it all. Your chest heaves slightly with confusion, eyes adjusting to the darkness as you glance over at your bedside table— the statue of the cross greets you like always, the soft voice from your dream resurfacing in your tired brain.

Your body is moving on its own accord; your coat, your shoes, all of it is being thrown on before your dazed mind can even process it, still weighed with sleep as you stumble around in the darkness. Only one thought seems to keep you moving, like a restless pull that leads you out your front door.

Swinging it open, you’re met with the freezing winter breeze; the trees sway and creak, snowflakes falling in your direction and landing against the apples of your cheeks— shaking you awake slightly, a quiet voice within you wondering what it is you’re doing, telling you that you should go back inside and rest— but even through this small window of reason you receive, the warmth that leaks from behind your home attempting to wrap around you and pull you back in, the need to seek closure haunts you; your boots crunch beneath the freshly fallen snow, sealing your fate as you haphazardly close the door behind you.

It all feels like a dream still— and you wonder if it is, blinking away the snow that gets in your eyes, your walk through the emptied path that leads back to the center of town turning haste; you feel as though it is something else that is pushing you forward, allowing you to head through this dark and barren path without so much as a light to guide the way, the sound of the wind whistling through your ears and the snow crunching beneath your feet following along.

There must be a reason, your weary mind thinks, a passing thought through the blankness of your mind, passing through the desolate, closed shops, not a single street lantern lit to give you a sense of security, there is something calling you back.

In your right state of mind, you never would have found yourself doing this; after what happened mere hours ago, you wouldn’t have been able to walk in this general direction without feeling guilt and fear weighing you down— in your fully conscious state of mind, you would have stopped to contemplate your actions the moment you began to lace up your shoes— but in this moment, as you slow to a stop and turn to face the stone steps that lead to the first faint, flickering light you’ve seen tonight, you’re none of that— instead, you allow yourself to give in to this strange, delirious state of being you’ve found yourself in.

The tall steps of the church have blurred together. Your head remains bowed, eyes glued to your feet as you ascend, hands folded neatly in front of you as snow falls around you, on your clothes and in your hair.

When you arrive at the top, a hand reaching out for the entrance, you hesitate— your eyes widen, and as though a bucket of ice water has been poured over you, you take in the door that has been left ajar, the lights that are no longer on inside; your hand remains outstretched for a moment, and for the first time tonight, a single question runs through your head.

Why are you here?

Standing straight, you turn to look over your shoulder, out at the town behind you— all is still, eerily so, like you’re the only person there. Even in the distance, in the neighborhoods, you do not find a single light on. A chill runs through your body, suddenly aware that you’re standing outside in the snowfall with nothing but your nightgown and a winter coat on; with blazing cheeks, you rush to slip inside the sanctuary in hopes of getting your confused mind back in order.

The door falls shut behind you, the soft click rendering you in complete darkness; not even the magnificent, stained glass windows are able to provide you with a proper source of light, nervously looking around and taking in the church in this desolate, foreign state.

You’ve heard that old habits die hard— without realizing, you’ve made your way to the basin of holy water, shaking fingers reaching in to be dipped so you can cross yourself— only, you continue to reach in, going in further until your fingertips are touching the cool porcelain of the bowl; head snapping over the sensation, you frown in confusion at the sight of the empty basin— walking over to the one placed adjacently, you squint, reaching in unsurely, only to be met with the same cold feeling.

Strange.

Retracting your hand, you cradle it close to your chest, a frown tugging at your features as you try to brush off the confusion; looking forward once more, you’re left face to face with the marble altar that sits at the end of the nave, beckoning you to come closer.

It must’ve been a sign of God. That is the only explanation that would justify the strange circumstances of it all, making you way down the familiar carpet, the soft sound of your steps enough to rival the beating of your heart in your ears.

Stepping off the carpet, you go to bow in respect— only to hear a strange sound beneath your feet, like a splashing of sorts— glancing down in confusion, your eyes narrow, attempting to decipher what it is you’ve stepped in; a pool of water maybe, looking above you to see if there might be a leak in the ceiling— a few seconds go by, and when you neither feel nor see anything fall, your frown deepens.

“You came.”

Your heart spikes and your gaze drops to the source of the sound, unable to do anything but gasp from the startle— through the darkness, standing behind the altar, a figure speaks to you. The sight is reminiscent and makes your legs shake, a mixture of fear and awe filling your body as you find yourself unable to speak.

“I wondered what it would take for you to finally give in,” the voice, soft and melodic, murmurs; even through the darkness, you can feel their gaze pinned onto you intently. “Such a shame it had to go this far.”

Before you can react, a thunder-like sound fills the empty walls of the church, cracking loudly and causing you to flinch, ducking down and covering yourself instinctively— through your eyelids that remain screwed shut, you see light filling the room around you, the flickering warmth of the candles glowing against your lids, beckoning you to look— after a moment, you give in.

Your hands tremble as you put them down, straightening up and taking a look around you: the candles have been lit up, from the chandeliers and lanterns above you to the small, worn candles at the sides of the altar— your eyes squint, trying to adjust, rubbing the sleep out of them and blinking slowly as you finally take in the figure that awaited your arrival.

A familiar face smiles down at you sweetly.

A loose, white shirt, a corset that ties tightly around the waist, flowing sleeves that pool around his delicate hands— your shaking pupils take it all in, lips parting to speak, only to close once more when you’ve found that nothing can come out. His hair is mused and curls at the nape of his neck, long strands falling into his kind eyes that watch you carefully.

Behind him, two vast white wings stretch out, the grand sight making your eyes widen in wonder.

Before you can control yourself, your knees buckle in shock.

Beomgyu laughs at you, the sound tender to your ears; placing his hands on the table of the altar, he leans forward, looking down at you and tilting his head in curiosity.

“What’s wrong, my lamb?”

All you can do is stare, left speechless and shaken as you remain silent— he laughs again, eyes crinkling in amusement, bright smile on display and adding to his otherworldly appearance.

“Do not be afraid,” he says, cradling his face with his palm, cooing softly at the way you still remain paralyzed with shock, “I only want what’s best for you, little lamb.”

You blink; shifting, you’ve found your clothes have become soaked at the knees, realizing belatedly that you must’ve fallen into the puddle from earlier— glancing down, you wince, only to freeze at what you see.

A striking crimson soils your clothes. It drags into a path that leads off into one of the rooms on the side, your heart sinking and a cold fear striking down your spine.

The scream that rips though you echoes and burns your throat.

Beomgyu frowns. He’s not surprised, nor is he confused; he simply continues to watch you, beginning to round the altar table the moment you begin to crawl back from where you kneel, your legs refusing to cooperate as hot tears brim your eyes.

“Oh no,” he tsks softly, wings folding inward so he can make his way down the nave, brows knitting together as he watches you, the intensity of his gaze keeping your eyes pinned on his as you cry in confusion, attempting to stand shakily, only to fail— he pouts, stepping in the puddle that startled you, watching as you flinch at the sight of the brilliant droplets that splash out and cling to his once pristine, white boots. “Why do you run?”

“That— the-the blood—” you sob, hysterical, unable to get your words out through stuttered breaths, “What—”

“Shh,” he hushes you hastily, closing the distance between the two of you and stepping on your delicate nightgown, forcing you to be still as he towers over you— he leans down, hair framing his face beautifully, mischievous eyes twinkling as his face hovers inches before yours— his wings cage around the two of you, a sight to see as you merely stare up at him in utter consternation, “don’t bother with him.”

A chill runs down your spine, electrifying and forcing you to sit ram-rod straight— through the small cracks beneath his wings, you take in the streaks that have dried against the tiles, the implication of his words causing a feeling of dread to pool within you, feeling as though you might vomit with the next words you speak.

“Who…” you breathe out, shaky and helpless as you stare up at Beomgyu; he had already been watching you, apathetic expression bringing sheer horror to your system, finally noticing small details you had been so eager to gloss over in your earlier haste— the tainted sleeves of his shirt, the messiness of his clothes, his empty, dark eyes— and your face screws into an expression of sorrow, your nails digging into the soiled carpet beneath you.

“What have you done?”

Beomgyu doesn’t react to your question. He remains still, eerily so, before he finally stands up straight, wings spreading proudly behind him; he stares down at you, hands held behind his back and voice flat as he speaks.

“Nothing I haven’t done before.”

Beomgyu thinks this might be his favorite part; he allows himself to watch as you force yourself to your feet, eyes blown out with horror as you stumble back, afraid he might come after you— when you see he has yet to move, you turn and run, the sight familiar as a grin grows on his face; he allows you to slam against the doors, watches confusion flood your actions as you attempt to force the door open, only beginning to take steps to go after you once you’ve begun to pound on the door hastily, hoarse voice screaming and crying for help, hoping for someone to hear your pleas and rescue you.

“You know, there’s no one that would be out on a night like this,” Beomgyu calls out, his voice booming effortlessly over your painful attempts to seek rescue; his steps are slow and cruel, and you look over your shoulder, tensing at the sight of him nearing you, refusing to give up as you try slamming your body against the wood, only to no avail. “No one stupid enough, that is.”

Your body is well beyond bruised by now, pausing your attempts to break down the door in a desperate hope to check the handle once more; you’re rattling it roughly, crying out when you’re met with resistance. Defeated, your forehead slams against the wood, allowing your sobs to wrack through your body, fingers tightening around the handle hopelessly.

“Now now, don’t be like this,” Beomgyu’s soft voice coos into your ear, much closer than you anticipated him to be; you flinch, feeling his lips ghost over the shell of your ear, his chest pressing firmly against your back— his arms wrap around your waist slowly, bringing you in and forcing you to remain pressed against him, “is this not what you have been seeking all along?”

Effortlessly, he pulls you away from the door. Maybe it’s the will to fight that ebbs out of your being, or maybe it’s his superhuman strength, pulling you off and forcing the two of you to walk backwards, your hands falling limply at your sides and your head falling back to stare at the ceiling, glossy eyes barely processing the words he speaks next.

“Come with me,” he murmurs, the searing touch of his hands searing through your clothes, burning your skin, “your heart has been searching for me, you know.”

Allowing him to walk you backwards, you whimper at his words— a sharp reminder of what it was that kept bringing you back here, unwavering guilt sinking your stomach at the faint fire that flickers within.

“No. Please,” you breath out, hushed and hurried as you shake your head, “Please, I beg of you, have mercy—”

Beneath you, you hear the familiar splash of liquid; you yelp in panic, jumping against Beomgyu’s body and trying to look down on instinct— you’re stopped before you can successfully do so, his heated palm pressing against your eyes, forcing you to be left in the dark.

“Don’t.” he says softly, his arm tightening around you, feeling tears pool beneath his skin, “you’re alright, I’m here with you.”

“Such a poor thing. Life has treated you quite unfairly, hasn’t it?” Beomgyu speaks aloud, feeling you hesitate and stumble as he leads you up towards the elevated altar, listening to your jagged breaths with a slightly pitied look. “Perfect and pure all your life, a devoted follower of god.”

“Don’t worry,” Beomgyu says, hand coming off your eyes for just a moment— not that you even noticed, your eyes had been screwed shut all along— only to wrap a cloth around your head instead, deft hands making a careful knot at the back of your head; sliding your clothing to the side, Beomgyu ignores the way you jolt when his soft lips press a kiss to your shoulder. His breath tickles as it fans on your skin.

“You’ve done well, my lamb.”

Beomgyu knows that you will never be able to grasp what is happening; especially not in this stunned state you’re in, the cloth around your eyes already soaked through with silent tears, hands limp at your sides as he takes in your face curiously, noticing your lips that move with silent words.

Even now, you pray.

My Lord and my God, your lips read, whispers of the faint words slipping from you, in my acceptance of the type of death you plan for me, I join your sufferings on the Cross.

Beomgyu watches you hesitate. Your bottom lip wobbles and your throat swallows thickly.

All I ask is that you stand beside me and never leave me.

Even through the veil that has been put over your eyes, a stray tear manages to slip through.

Beomgyu should feel bad for laughing, he supposes— but he can’t help it, taking in the melodramatic sight with thorough amusement, watching you flinch and press your lips together tightly. He shakes his head softly, finding himself becoming fond of your antics as he takes a hold of your hand, ignoring the way you startle so easily as he guides you to where he wants you instead.

“Oh dear,” he sighs, leading you to press back against the altar table, stiffening at the unexpected feeling, “I fear you may have misunderstood me entirely. See, I don’t want to kill you, my lamb.”

Your brows furrow; he’s confused you, he can tell.

“There’s something your pretty little heart has been curious about, isn’t there?” he asks, a grin stretching across his face as you shiver, already aware of what he may be hinting at— but even so, you try to remain clueless, even if you’re quite terrible at it. “Something… you want.”

“There is nothing,” you reply, quickly, albeit shakily, “please, I just— just spare me—”

“Now, there’s no need to lie.” Beomgyu coos, placing his hands on your waist, hoisting you up on the altar table in one swift motion; you gasp, hands reaching blindly for something to stable yourself on, one landing on Beomgyu’s shoulder and the other on the marble beneath you— the hand on his body quickly slips off, and Beomgyu finds himself craving for more.

“You’ve been denying yourself for so long,” Beomgyu murmurs, his voice a hypnotizing lull that causes you to gulp. His fingertips dance across your waist, trailblazing a fire that refuses to die down, mixing with the fear that pounds your heart against your chest. “You must feel so, so trapped.”

“There’s no need to pretend here,” he smiles, reaching up to caress your cheek, watching you gulp, fists clenched tightly in your lap, “I’m aware of everything. It’s only human nature, after all.”

Fervently, you shake your head. Your consistent denial is almost impressive to Beomgyu, the facade of confidence you try to exude with your voice both evident and pity-inducing.

“I refuse to give in to the temptations of sin,” you say, the words like a recited script at this point; Beomgyu’s lip curls in distaste.

“It is not sin,” he whispers softly, hands beginning to wander down from your sides to your hips, grasping softly at the skin before moving down, to the tops of your thighs and over your hands that remain clenched tightly, “it is merely the human experience.”

His hands feel hot over your own; you can feel him press against your body from where you sit, undoubtedly looming over you and caging you in as he speaks. His actions are absentminded as he caresses your hand, stroking the skin soothingly as he continues to invade your senses, whispering things that only the deepest, darkest parts of your heart have considered.

“You’ve worked so hard to live a pious, pure life,” Beomgyu says, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he watches you frown, finally beginning to listen to the words he feeds you, “even at the face of danger, you remained loyal— even now, you continue to refuse me.”

“But, don’t you see? The lord has brought you here for a reason.” His eyes shine the moment you shift restlessly under his grip, pressing himself tighter against you, “your dreams, your thoughts, they have led you here for a purpose only you can serve.”

You try to refute him yet again; your lips open, but you hesitate, unsure of what to say. You remain quiet instead.

“Will you deny the fate god has bestowed you?”

A soft pout forms on your face; your heart is racing, and your mind must be too, because you don’t bother to react when Beomgyu’s hand leaves your own, trailing down your thighs and prodding your legs open so he can stand between them— too deep in thought to realize that he’s lifting your nightgown up, bunching it at your knees tentatively.

Beomgyu watches you carefully, taking in your silence and smiling triumphantly as he speaks, “Here,” his other hand slides to place itself on the bare skin of your inner thigh, watching with sadistic pleasure as you jolt and yelp in surprise, “I’ll show you what it is you’ve been searching for.”

Your skin is tender as he begins to trail forward, eager to touch you and familiarize himself with you— only to get stopped by your trembling hand, his eyes darting to your troubled face, brows furrowing with confusion as he watches you muster the courage to say something.

“N…Not…” it feels as though nerves and fear have swallowed you whole, having to take a deep breath in order to continue your sentence, “Not here. Not like this.”

“Hmm? But where else could this possibly happen?” he asks teasingly, much too desperate to heed your half-hearted request, “my lamb, it is perfect here.”

“Beomgyu, this place, it’s sacred,” your lips pressed together, using all the courage within you to speak up, “It is a home to me, I couldn’t bear to desecrate it—”

Beomgyu’s fingers dig into the plush of your thigh, able to feel his face hover over yours as he speaks through gritted teeth, eyes burning holes into your skin.

“This was my home too.”

It all happens so suddenly; you’re pushed to lay back against the table, legs forced open as Beomgyu gets closer still, your lips parting in a soft gasp as he successfully bunches your nightgown at your hips, looming over you so he can undo your coat.

“And our lord has decreed that it is here where I finally take you.” he hisses, watches as you can only let our a broken whimper and shift restlessly beneath him; the fire has consumed you wholly by now, he knows, the seeds of lust planted within you far too much for a person like you to bare— even the graze of his fingertips against your bare skin is enough to have you gasping.

“I’ve waited long enough to taste you.”

Your body is alight with nerves, buzzing at the sensations around you— though you see nothing, it heightens your other senses, forced to take note of every motion and touch Beomgyu leaves on you, from his deft hands that undo your coat to the warmth of his body between your thighs, lips pressed together in a mix of anticipation and dread— all you can do is lie and wait.

When Beomgyu’s hands slither back down to your core, you’re a squirming mess; he’s done nothing to you, yet you already seem so broken down and pliant— you’re a sweet sight, bitten lips parting eagerly in surprise once he suddenly plants his hand firmly against your core; your panties are pathetically soaked through, a soft cry escaping you at the heat of his touch against you, hands flying to grab at his wrist— unsure of whether to press him closer of pry him off.

In the end, you do neither of the two. Beomgyu grins at your hesitation, a clear battle still ongoing inside your mind as you allow him to slowly rock his palm against your cunt, rubbing at your clit and causing you to sob softly at the unfamiliar sensation; your back arches and jolts of pleasure strike through you, the underlying guilt of it all causing tears to quickly well up at the corners of your eyes— though, from pleasure or shame, you’re no longer sure of.

“Poor thing,” he coos softly, applying a sudden pressure against your cunt, all to watch the way your back arches in surprise, “it’s quite easy to make you cry, isn’t it?”

“This must all be so new to you,” he hums, rubbing at your cunt until your panties have begun to stick uncomfortably to you, your arousal soaking through and coating the heel of his hand thickly, “so pretty. Like an angel.”

His words cause a wave of heat to wash over your body; you feel restless, desperate for more, yet unsure of how to communicate as you find yourself hesitating each time, the undying guilt within you forcing your fingertips to dig into Beomgyu’s forearm a bit deeper.

“Hmm? What is it you need, my lamb?” he asks, even if he can practically see the thoughts running through your head, reading your body and the way your hips fight to cant against his hand, “Tell me, what do you want?”

The way you shake your head petulantly brings a huff from Beomgyu; he watches as you heat up at his question, lips trembling with embarrassment, chin tucked down into your chest as though it would be enough to hide from his gaze— chuckling, Beomgyu allows a few more seconds to pass, letting you sit with your own confliction, before he finally decides to take pity on you; a shaky gasp escapes your lips as Beomgyu’s hand shifts, middle and ring fingers trailing up until they press against the fabric of your panties, pushing in and teasing your leaking hole.

“Why do you hold back still?” he asks softly, his hand that isn’t teasing you incessantly smoothing down your thigh, stopping at your knee so he can wrap it around his slim waist, “there’s no need to continue this act of yours; do not lie under the eyes of god.”

You cry softly, a cacophony of emotions raging within you as your nails dig deeper into your palms, cunt throbbing and sending sparks of electricity as Beomgyu presses his fingers further into you, stretching the fabric and soaking it with your own arousal— through hushed, trembled words, you finally gather the courage to speak.

“I want…” you hesitate, shifting on the cold marble of the altar table, turning your head to the side in a faux attempt to avoid Beomgyu’s scrutiny, “I want more.”

“I don’t believe you.” Beomgyu immediately chides, his fingers moving to ghost over your clit, a satisfied smile growing on his face as you feel the shocks of pleasure from his movements, already too much for your innocent body, “you expect me to take such a weak request seriously?”

You gasp in surprise as Beomgyu suddenly takes a hold of your chin, forcing you to face him once more as you feel him hovering over you; his breath fans across your face, eyelids fluttering behind your blindfold at the sensation.

“Tell me again,” he says, his fingers applying just the slightest more pressure on your clit, watching as the pleasure breaks you effortlessly; his lips brush against the corner of your mouth, able to feel his coy smile as he speaks. “Tell me like you mean it.”

Beomgyu waits for you eagerly; his touch on your cunt is almost nonexistent, applying just enough pressure here and there as a reminder of what it is you so desperately wish for— it’s so easy to get you to where he wants, he thinks, watching you become overwhelmed by his presence, by the pleasure he continues to give and take away. After a mere few seconds, you finally cave.

“Beomgyu…” you trail off, the sudden use of his name bringing a shiver through his body, the sound sweet and pure like he dreamed it to be, “Beomgyu, I can’t— I feel so strange, please help me— I need more.”

He chuckles lowly at your words; placing a gentle kiss at the corner of your mouth, Beomgyu straightens up, leaving you for a moment in order to hook his fingers under your panties, ready to drag them slowly down your hips.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he sighs aloud, watching with fond eyes as you startle at the sensation, legs jumping to close back together— but he won’t allow it, standing firmly between them and forcing your hips to lift, all so he can pull off the only article of clothing standing between him and what he’s desired for so long; his eyes darken at the string of arousal that follows the seat of your panties, eagerly taking in your puffy, needy cunt, body becoming alight with a carnal need to consume you whole. “You’re perfect. Truly a gift from god.”

He can’t help but grin at his own comment, eyes flickering back up at the altar above him, the candles that flicker wildly— then he looks back down at you, your puffy, tear stained face and your hands that remain tense at your sides, lips pressed together in fear of letting a sound escape— but Beomgyu is much too eager to let you have what you want.

This ashamed and reserved attitude of yours will be no more— he’s determined to have you melt under his touch, fingertips curious as they finally begin to caress your bare cunt, teeth sinking into his lip as he takes in every gasp, arch, and tense your body gives him.

It’s slow and oh so cruel, the way he swipes the pads of his fingertips along your slit, bringing the arousal to your clit and circling it softly, all so he can watch you pant and shiver at the sensations— your hands have moved to grasp at your clothes, jaw clenched as your mind tries to keep up with all these new sensations: you feel so hot and restless, a fiery itch settling deep in your core, only alleviated with the stray sparks of pleasure Beomgyu gives you— it’s too much, yet not enough at all.

“Won’t you let me hear you?” Beomgyu asks, fingers beginning to prod at your entrance, circling it leisurely as he observes you, “it’s no fun like this.”

You can hear the pout in his words, petulant and teasing as he coos out your name, “C’mon, I know you sound as sweet as you look.”

You’re given no warning when his fingers breach your entrance; a yelp escapes you before you can process it, the sudden stretch bringing chills down your spine— it’s just his middle finger first, lithe and calculated as it curls and prods at your walls, feeling you flutter and clench around him as he adds his ring finger in next— you’re letting out a cry at how fast it all happens, a hand reaching down to grasp at his wrist, a mixture of shock and pleasure filling your being.

“Beomgyu…!”

“Again,” he murmurs, fingers beginning to stretch your walls, pumping steadily and curling, listening to the quiet mewls and moans you let out, “louder. Show me how much you like it.”

“Beomgyu… oh–! N-not there, ah–!” You’re a squirming mess, shifting beneath his hold and shaking your head, the feelings far too much for you— Beomgyu doesn’t bother to heed your requests, abusing the soft, spongy parts of your walls that seem to make you react the most; you choke and hiccup pathetic moans, thighs tensing and spasming around him, hands shaking from the tight hold you have on your nightgown; it gets difficult having to chase your hips after a while, Beomgyu’s eyes narrowing as he places a harsh hand down on you, pinning you down against the table, fingers digging into the soft skin as you gasp.

“Stay still.” is all he says to you, palm pressing against your clit as he slowly fingers you, drinking in the miniscule changes of your expression eagerly, “Don’t fight it.”

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” He asks, punctuating his words with a cruel curl into you; you gasp, chest heaving as a tight coil builds up within you, “doesn’t it feel so nice?”

“So sad, you’ve been denying yourself such bliss for so long,” Beomgyu utters softly, cooing at the way you cry and struggle to remain sane, overwhelmed by everything Beomgyu does to you, “won’t you let me take care of you?”

Carefully, he hovers over you, strands of his hair brushing against your cheeks as he presses a soft kiss to your jaw, lips caressing the column of your neck as he smiles softly.

“Wouldn’t you like for me to taste you?”

He’s sure you don’t fully grasp what it is he might mean— but you’re eager nonetheless, a gasp escaping your lips, so soft he might’ve missed it if he hadn’t been so close— the tight clench of your cunt around him is enough of a sign anyway.

You can only hear shifting; your ears perk up as you try to decipher what could be happening, feeling Beomgyu’s hand wander down your thighs, the loss of his heat above you, the flickering warmth of the candles around you— you lay still, with bated breath and buzzing nerves.

Your mouth falls open, a loud moan falling from your mouth and bouncing off the walls.

It’s all too much for your poor, inexperienced body; it’s overwhelming, the pleasure wrapping you up and burning you alive as your thighs attempt to shut, only to close in on Beomgyu’s head that remains steady, large hands splayed on your hips as he holds you down, his mouth continuing his assault against your cunt.

The chants of his name and your broken moans are enough to keep him motivated— he’s lapping at your clit hungrily, moving down to suck at the arousal that leaks from your entrance, perfect nose bumping into you as he sighs and groans against you.

You think you might’ve gone mad; sounds you didn’t think were possible are escaping you, each more pitiful and helpless than the last. Your hands wander absentmindedly, not realizing what it is you’re searching for until they’ve finally curled into his thick hair, tangling strands around your fingers and tugging rashly— you can feel him moan against you at the actions, the feeling bringing a shiver down your spine.

“B-Beom…gyu!” you whine out, hips attempting to wiggle out of his hold, hands tugging his head closer— your eyes remain screwed tight behind your blindfold, tears pricking at them as your mind races to process what is happening to you— between your legs, Beomgyu grins triumphantly, nails digging into your delicate thighs as he licks a long stripe along your slit.

In times like these, Beomgyu can’t help but be reminded of who he is, what his existence is for— his tongue is long, abnormally so, as it enters you, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he laps up your essence and fucks you with it, listening to your startled cries morph into nothing but wanton lust, choking on the syllables of his name and brokenly pleading for him to not stop— as if he could ever be capable of doing so.

You’re delicious, like a ripe fruit that has been eyed for too long, too high on a tree for anyone to take— victory feels sweet on Beomgyu’s tongue as you clench and leak around him, allowing you to grind against him and take the reins of what you want, giving you the pleasure you seek— and he can feel you getting wound up quite quickly, your keens and cries loud enough to rival the screams of fear you were letting out only moments ago— but then again, none of that matters as long as Beomgyu has his hands on you.

You’re almost there, a climax strong enough to wreck you approaching quickly— and as much as Beomgyu would love to feel it, to swallow your cum as it drips out your fluttering cunt— he can’t. Not yet, and certainly not like this. Though it pains him, he pulls away from your cunt that attempts to suck him back in.

The sob you let out almost makes Beomgyu regret his decision; you’re a broken, confused mess, panting like a dog as you cry and wonder why it is that Beomgyu stopped so suddenly— gently, Beomgyu pries your hands off from where they tug at his hair, listening to your disoriented mumbles of his name, reaching blindly for him as he rises to his feet. And you’re left in the darkness once more.

Before you can react, Beomgyu’s hands lift your head, quickly undoing your blindfold, letting it fall against the altar next to your face; your eyes flutter open from the action, brows furrowed as everything slowly comes into focus.

Beomgyu hovers above you, the flickering candlelight around the two of you casting an ethereal glow around his face; it is warm and fond as he looks down at you, plump lips pulled into a gentle smile as he caresses your cheek, letting out a breathy chuckle at the way you fluster immediately, unable to hold his gaze.

“Look at me.” he says, his voice compelling enough to have you following his command, the feeling so natural you haven’t realized you’ve obeyed until you’re meeting his dark eyes— there is no light in his pupils, despite the many sources that continue to fall onto the two of you. He smiles, a hand continuing its reassuring strokes against your skin, the other moving down to grab your thigh, wrapping it around his waist once more. “Don’t be afraid— keep your eyes on me.”

You feel something prodding at your entrance; you stiffen, breath hitching and hands instinctively reaching up to place themselves flat against Beomgyu’s chest— with wide eyes, you stare back at him, unable to break this entrancing spell you’ve caught yourself in, lips parting in a silent gasp as Beomgyu’s eyes soften. Slowly, he pushes in.

The feeling of his cockhead breaching your walls has you gasping sharply, shock painting your face and nails digging into your chest as your back arches slightly— the stretch is new and unexpected, the feeling of him inside you causing your stomach to twist in pain and pleasure— it’s so sudden, you feel as though you’re not ready, yet your body cries for him to continue, feeling him pause and still inside you.

The smile on Beomgyu’s face is practically permanent; words could not explain the satisfaction he feels, the twisted victory he gains from every inch he pushes inside you, virgin walls fluttering and squeezing him like a vice, your wide, doe eyes glazing over with pleasure the longer he takes, the more he allows you to adjust.

Your chest heaves by the time he’s fully inside you, face screwing up as you feel him bottom out, his tip pressing firmly into you— your voice breaks as you call out his name, searching for comfort he will not be able to provide. Instead, he coos softly at you, empty, sugary words and reassurances that are merely practiced in his mind, feathery caresses against your temple as he shushes you, telling you that everything’s okay, that you’ll feel good soon enough.

“I’ve got you,” he purrs, even if you continue to tense every time he shifts, legs twitching at the sheer stretch you’ve suddenly been forced to take. “It’s okay, don’t be nervous.”

When he begins to pull out, criminally slow and teasing, you gasp— and he grins, fully expecting it as he hovers over your lips, only to press a chaste kiss to your nose as he moves to stand straight, only the tip of his cock left inside you.

The sight of you is nothing short of divine; just seeing you like this is enough to bring him energy, greedy gaze taking in your broken expression, eyes flickering to your parted lips that tremble and gasp out his name. He groans softly, the eyes fluttering shut as he takes a moment to appreciate the way your cunt clenches around him, warm and wet, nothing like the scraps he was forced to feed on as punishment. You’re perfect, pure, full of life.

Before he can second guess himself, his hips slam back in.

The pace he’s set is nothing short of cruel; his feather-light touches and chaste kisses had been nothing but a show, all an attempt to lower your guard and allow him to seize you at your weakest; you yelp in surprise and attempt to cling onto him, overwhelmed by the harshness of his cock as it pounds into you, aiming for the most sensitive spots within you that leave you begging and crying out— but whether it’s for him to stop or continue, you’re not entirely sure— your reasoning blurred into one big mess long ago.

It doesn’t take long for Beomgyu to lose himself in the feeling of you; greedy, rough hands grasping at your skin, groping the soft skin of your thighs, your hips, wandering up to squeeze and toy with your breasts— and you can only lay there and take it all, watching him use you to satisfy himself, unable to help the way your cunt clenches and drools at the sight. His hips angle and his cock slams deep against you, hitting a spot he’s never hit before— and you stiffen, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you cry out.

“Oh!” you yelp, tears pooling at your eyes, a hand slamming over your mouth at the sudden noise— but even so, your muffled cries still slip out from the cracks of your fingers. “O-Oh my—! ah—!”

“Why silence yourself?” Beomgyu laughs softly, slightly out of breath as he continues to cling to you, hips rutting wildly into you, chasing that familiar bliss he grew addicted to; he proceeds to aim for that particular spot over and over, watching tears ebb from the corners of your eyes, flowing down the sides of your face and dripping onto the pristine white marble of the altar table. “Go on, say it.”

“Say it, call out their name, let this whole sanctuary know how good it feels,” he hisses, face hovering over yours once more, eager to watch you crumble.

“Call to your god,” he whispers, a soft moan falling between heavy breaths, feeling the way you squeeze and suck him in, your peak approaching much too fast for you to handle, “go on, pray that they forgive your sins and look past the way your tight cunt begs to keep this demon inside you.”

His cock feels like heaven inside you; it’s relentless, slamming into you as his hand falls from its tight hold on your thigh to your clit, rubbing tight circles that cause your body to tighten until it can no longer hold back.

“Oh my God— Beomgyu!” you’re a drooling, tearful, pitiful sight as you finally crash down, sobbing and babbling words that blend together, your hands pulling at Beomgyu’s shirt until you’re bringing him down to you.

Beomgyu’s kiss is celestial. His lips slot perfectly against yours, a soft grunt escaping him as he finally cums inside you; thick, hot ropes of cum flooding your cunt, filling you until you can no longer hold it in— you tremble and you hold Beomgyu close to you throughout it all, your mind emptied out and craving nothing but him.

Your eyes flutter shut; your body tingles, your hold on him weakening as you begin to slump back against the altar. It’s getting harder to move, sluggishly trying your best to keep up with Beomgyu’s sloppy kisses, your chest beginning to cave in as your lungs burn and beg for air.

You want to pull away. You want to stop— yet, you find with a delayed horror that you can’t.

Beomgyu won’t pull away; Beomgyu can’t pull away, feeling his arms snake beneath your figure, one wrapping around your waist tightly, the other slithering up your back and cradling the back of your head, holding it up so he can keep you as close to him as possible.

Your vision has begun to blur; your hands have fallen limp at your sides. You feel weakened, only your lips able to move as they mindlessly follow after Beomgyu, sluggish and messy movements that go on whether you want to or not.

Behind him, a crackling sound emits; the candles around you flicker wildly, divine feathers that were once proudly on display above you beginning to darken and fall, burning off and becoming a charred black— blood seeps from the crevices where feathers slip away, landing on top of you and on the altar you lay on.

His wings are a shriveled, grisly sight. He’s transformed entirely before your very eyes, pulling away slowly and sighing softly into your parted lips. Slowly, his hands slither off you, laying you gently and standing straight to take in the mess he’s made. All you can do is stare back through bleary eyes.

“My lamb,” he says affectionately, bringing a hand up to cup your face; it is only then that you’re able to notice the state of his hands, charred and injured, just like his wings, animal-like claws replacing his nails. They dig slightly into your skin as he smiles down at you, utterly enamored.

“I will cherish this ‘till kingdom come.”

His enchanting expression is the last thing you see. His claw moves faster than the human eye can process as it slices cleanly across the canvas of your neck.

Your body jolts at the action, not a single shift in your expression as your body relaxes against the altar table. Your eyes remain open and dazed with pleasure.

Blood flows from the deep crack of his cut; it flows from your mouth as well, and all Beomgyu can do is watch as the color slowly fades from your skin, the light in your eyes no more. He looms over you in silence, lingering on even when he knows there’s nothing left for him there. A pool of your blood has formed around your head, a twisted halo that stains the marble.

Beomgyu’s eyes remain transfixed on your wound, emotionless eyes watching the blood drip out steadily. Then, they begin to wander, trailing down until they stop at a certain point, hypnotized by the thought that suddenly enters his mind.

Before he can second guess himself, Beomgyu’s hand hovers above your chest.

It is not easy to reach your heart. It is an obscene and difficult process, though Beomgyu doesn’t bat an eye throughout it all; blood coats his forearm once he finally succeeds, a happy hum escaping him as he examines the item in his hands with fascination.

It’s just as transcendent as the rest of you. Taking your life force was enough to make Beomgyu feel normal again, but with this, he’s sure that you would fuel his energy for the rest of his miserable eternity.

His eyes soften; it’s so fragile, it drips onto his skin and sings to him, the last of your innocence begging to be released, to be given peace; instead, Beomgyu brings it closer to him, sighing slowly as he gets one last look at it.

And he bites.

He can almost hear your voice, the memories trapped within as he closes his eyes, chewing and swallowing and biting again. Tilting his head back, he all but groans in satisfaction.

His eyes slowly flutter open. He’s met with the chandeliers above him, the looming altar to his left calling his attention. Apathetically, his head lolls to the side, getting a better look at the statues that stand over him. Taking another bite, he feels blood leak onto his lips that curl into a sickly sweet smile.

He’s never tasted anything purer.

#txt fanfic #txt fanfiction #txt imagines #txt oneshots #txt ff #txt x reader #txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #beomgyu smut #beomgyu ff #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu oneshot #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu fanfic #beomgyu fanfiction

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honeyedmiller · 2 months ago

Text

A Burning Desire part seven

firefighter!joel x f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist

rating: explicit. 18+, minors do not interact.

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, extreme vulnerability, brief mentions of emotional abuse and manipulation in a past relationship, mentions of infidelity in a past relationship, shit ton of fluff, smut (nipple play, teensy bit of dirty talk, semi-public?? firetruck fucking!!! unprotected piv, ass play, ass slapping, brief choking, spitting, cum eating), reader’s brothers and tommy are little shits as always, no use of y/n.

word count: 7.1k

a/n: i’ve been feeling a little feral lately which resulted in the smut. apologies🧍‍♀️and yes that third picture is the 911 lonestar firehouse LMAO it was perfect for this okay 😭 anyway i hope y’all enjoy <3

synopsis: a drunken joel asks you to take your relationship with him to the next level.

A week had passed since Joel’s birthday party, and you’re now alone in a house that’s usually bustling with people.

Sarah had gone off for the weekend to spend the night at a friend’s house while Joel went out with Tommy, your brothers, and Josh. You were curled up on the couch reading an invigorating romance novel. The quietness was accompanied by the ticking clock above the mantle and the soft scrape of paper rubbing against paper as you turned the page of your book.

You find yourself so immersed in the book that when your phone rings, it nearly startles you half to death. You pick it up to see Emily FaceTiming you, and you dog-ear the page you’re on before setting the book down and sliding the answer button.

“Hey Emi,” you smile at her as you bring your knees to your chest.

“Hey sis. How are you?”

“I’m good. Just reading a book and drinking some wine,” you say, lifting your glass up for her to see. She grins and holds up her water bottle, making you laugh.

“You got the house to yourself?” She asks. You nod, chewing on your bottom lip.

“Sarah is at a friend’s and, you know, Joel is out with the boys.”

“The boys,” she snorts. “I can’t believe they all actually formed a little friend group and are going out.”

“Tell me about it. I’ll take this over Andy and Cole chewing Joel’s head off any day, though.”

“Seriously. Remember how long it took them to stop torturing Josh?”

You think back to when your brothers would give Josh shit a lot when Emily first brought him around, but he stuck it out because he’s so head over heels for Emi… as he should be. Good man.

“God, yeah. I also remember mom yelling at them both, saying something like ‘this is why you’re both single’,” you laugh at the memory, taking a sip of your wine.

“I remember that, too. But I’m glad Josh stuck around,” she has a soft smile on her face before she twists her lips to the side.

“Okay, so, I have something to tell you. But you can’t tell anybody. Well, you can tell Joel if you want,” she sighs, and you furrow your brows.

“Is everything okay? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. In fact, everything is perfect. You know how I told mom like a week ago at Joel’s birthday party that Josh and I didn’t use… anything on our honeymoon?”

You nod, recalling the moment in Joel’s kitchen. Then you go completely still as your heart drops to your ass.

“Emi, oh my god, is—are you—holy fuck,” your brain is scrambled right now, eyes going wide as you stare at the screen.

She tears up and lets out a happy sob that sounds like a laugh, holding up a pregnancy test that so clearly has the word pregnant across the tiny screen.

Your hand flies over your mouth and tears sting your eyes.

“Oh my god!”

“I know, crazy isn’t it?” She laughs, happy tears streaming down her glowing cheeks.

“When did you find out?” You ask.

“Literally like thirty minutes ago. You’re the first person I’ve told,” she pauses. “Let Josh think he was the first, though. This is what he gets when he leaves his wife at home to go out and drink with his brothers and new friends,” she jokes, and you laugh with her.

You hold up your right hand, seriousness in your tone. “Scouts honor.”

“Thank you,” she says, sniffling before wiping her tears away once more.

“I’m so happy for you, Emi. I know how much you want to be a mother.”

“I love you, my dear sister,” she beams at you, and you can’t help but return the same radiant smile.

“I love you too.”

“Sorry to cut the conversation short, but Josh just texted and said he’s coming home in a few and I want to be prepared and all that,” she waves her hand around, and you can’t help but huff a laugh.

“No worries. I’m so excited for you. I love you and I’ll talk to you soon, yeah?”

She nods and blows you a kiss through the screen, saying bye before she hangs up.

You can’t wipe the grin off your face or the warm feeling in your chest at her news. You try to go back to reading your book, but your mind can’t stop from wandering to your sister.

Your thoughts are torn from your mind just a few short minutes later as you hear the front door handle jiggle, opening up to a completely happy and very drunk Joel.

“There’s my beautiful lady,” he says, stumbling a tiny bit in the entryway. You laugh and stand up to help him, giving Tommy a wave as you see him watching Joel from his truck to make sure he gets in the house okay. He gives you a wave and a smile before peeling off, and you close the door.

You steady Joel and help him walk over to the couch with you, settling him before you sit down next to him.

“I gather your night went well,” you giggle, and he turns to smile at you.

“Your brothers are two of the funniest damn guys. Josh too. This bromance is coming along just nicely.”

You can’t help but laugh at his words, leaning forward to plant your lips on his cheek.

“Oh, speaking of Josh,” you start, taking Joel’s hand into yours before rubbing your thumb across his knuckles. “Emily called me a few minutes before you came home. She told me some wonderful news and said I can share it with you.”

Joel’s gaze meets yours as his eyebrows shoot up. “What is it?”

“They’re having a baby. Emily is pregnant.”

“Oh wow, that is great news. You think they’ll announce it to everyone soon?” He asks, bringing your hand up to his lips to kiss your knuckles.

“I’m sure they will soon.”

It’s quiet for a couple of minutes before you switch positions on the couch and lay down, Joel following suit as he begins to tuck himself between your legs. You’re situating yourself before you look up at him with a small smile, his gaze already intensely on you.

“We should have kids,” Joel says, a smug, sappy smile on his face. His words halt your movements as you eye him wearily.

You quirk your brow at him and tilt your head. “Oh?”

“Don’t ya think they’d be so cute?” He gushes, and Drunk Joel truly is a sight to behold. He’s all soft and cuddly. Practically a human teddy bear.

“Just think about it,” he laughs, “They’d have your beautiful eyes and your smile and your laugh and—”

You put a hand on his chest to stop his words, and he looks at you with so much love in his eyes you think you might burst.

“Slow your roll, cowboy. How about we discuss this when whiskey isn’t in the equation.”

He pouts at you and you have to stifle a laugh. He looks so fucking cute. Your heart blooms at the fact that he wants that type of future with you, and it cracks through the remaining pieces of the walls you’ve put up.

He sighs and lays down on you, nestling his broad body between your thighs and clings to you like a koala. You kiss his temple and run your fingers through his hair, feeling so content and in love that it makes you nearly choke up with tears.

He presses gentle kisses to the skin of your chest as he buries his face there, sighing in content.

“Well if we’re holding off on the discussion of kids, then maybe we can start a few steps before that one,” he says, and his words barely make sense as he half-mumbles into your chest. You catch it anyway.

“And what would the first step be?”

He lifts his head up to meet your gaze, eyeing you knowingly before giving you a soft but sure smile.

“Move in with me.”

“That’s the last of it.” You wipe your brow and exhale an exhausted breath, admiring the pile of boxes that overtook Joel’s living room—well, your living room now, too. It was only two months ago that Joel had drunkenly asked you to move in with him, and when morning time came, you had to make sure he was sure.

He’d reassured you easily that he meant what he said and would love it if you moved in with him and Sarah. Sarah had been on board with it all along, wanting you to stay permanently after the few weeks you’d spent there taking care of Joel and helping with her.

You had some things to figure out with your lease to your apartment, seeing as it wasn’t up until January, but your landlord was a godsend and the sweetest woman, letting you break the contract two months early with your full deposit back.

Joel wraps his arms around you with a prideful grin, kissing your sweaty forehead. You grimace at that, but you’ve come to find out early on in your relationship that this man isn’t easily disgusted by much of anything, really.

You gaze at the tower of boxes and it tugs at your heart strings. Just a couple of months ago, you were crushed by the prospect of having to go back to your apartment when Joel was fully healed, but it turns out he didn’t want you to leave, either. He’d come to your place on nights Sarah was with friends and would spend time with you there after you’d left his house and he got cleared for light duty at work.

Turns out he’s just as clingy to you as you are to him. That’s not to say you both don’t mind spending time apart from each other, but you’d much prefer to be wrapped up in each other or simply enjoying each other’s company.

You’ve already established that allowing yourself to get attached to someone scared the hell out of you, and Joel had sensed it, too. You finally opened up to him one night and laid all of your cards out on the table for him. Confessed that your ex had been emotionally abusive toward you, manipulating you and gaslighting you into thinking you were fucking nuts for wanting to feel something with him and be loved the way you knew you deserved to be, and that you were too much for wanting the bare fucking minimum. That he made you feel like you didn’t matter. That he made you feel unworthy of true love after you finally put the finishing pieces of the puzzle together, seeing the bigger picture, and coming to the conclusion that he was a fucking prick who didn’t deserve you or what you had to offer. The final cherry on top of this monstrosity was catching him fucking his coworker in his bed.

You told Joel, with tears in your eyes, that your heart was completely his and it had taken you a while to get over the hurdles and constant battles in your mind. You told him he’s the one who crumbled all of those walls completely. He’s the one that made you believe in love again, no matter how much it terrified you. You confessed that he was it for you. He’d ruined every single other man for you, ever.

With glossy eyes of his own, he pulled you in tight and held you for what seemed like hours, kissing your temple repeatedly until you completely melted into him. He’d made you a promise that night he’d do his absolute damndest to protect your heart and take care of it, and if he ever saw your ex, he’d beat the shit out of him. You’d never seen Joel so furious, but with the look he had in his eyes, you could tell he really wasn’t joking.

It’s only been a few months, but you feel like you’ve come a long way—mentally, physically, with Joel, your family, and your dearest friend Maria. Without them, you don’t think you would’ve had the strength to overcome your worst fears that involved love. It took you a while to finally love yourself again after you ended it with Christian, and even longer to allow someone else to love you the way your heart desperately desired.

You couldn’t have been more grateful that the person to give you that is this handsome, strong, loving man that stands proudly beside you. Someone who’s unabashed about showing you off. Proud to love you out loud. Isn’t afraid of giving you a big, playful smooch in public and doesn’t hide you from his coworkers or his family or any of his friends.

You’re irrevocably in love with Joel Miller, and you’re damn proud of it. This man has saved you—literally and figuratively.

“I honestly thought you’d have more stuff than this,” Joel says with a teasing undertone. You snort a laugh and roll your eyes, looking at him with amusement.

“My apartment wasn’t that big, Miller.” You pat his chest and move toward the boxes, luckily thinking ahead and separating everything into which room they belonged in. You lift the first one up that’s labeled bedroom in big bold letters, heading toward the stairs. Joel follows suit and picks up another one labeled bathroom, following you up the steps.

You set the box down on the floor and open the drawers that Joel had cleared out for you. You smile at the thought of him being nice enough to clear out some of his space for you. He’d told you it gave him the perfect opportunity to clean up around the house and get rid of stuff he didn’t need or use anyway. He donated most of the stuff he got rid of, saying someone else would get much better use out of the various items.

Joel sets his box down in the master bathroom, setting it on your side of the sink. Your side. Your lips curl up at that, and Joel comes behind you before nearly tackling you onto the bed. You yelp out in surprise, a breathy laugh escaping you as he straddles you and looks down at you from above.

Your hands land on his torso, coercing him down with a mischievous smile and a curl of your finger, silently telling him ‘come here’. He licks his lips and leans down, elbows on either side of your head.

“Fancy meetin’ you here, darlin’.” His Southern charm is something you’ll never tire of, especially if it’s regarded in a playful mood.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to keep a lady waiting?” You quirk a brow at him and grin, fisting the front of his shirt to tug him down so you’re nose-to-nose.

“You’re right, pretty lady. Severely rude. How long until everyone gets here…?” He trails off, kissing the line of your jaw before nibbling at your chin. Your eyes glance at your watch-clad wrist as you lift it up in your line of sight.

“About forty minutes or so,” you breathe out in a sigh. Joel hums against your neck now, licking your pulse point before nipping your skin slightly. You arch your body up into his, neediness rolling off of every limb as you lick your lips in anticipation.

“Enough time for me to show you how not rude I am,” he murmurs. You laugh at that, threading your fingers through his thick locks.

“I think this lady would very much indeed like a proper demonstration.”

Joel’s eyes turn dark and he nearly growls, tugging your tank top up and over your head before unzipping your sports bra. Your breasts bounce as they become free, and Joel chuckles deeply at the way your nipples tighten and become erect with such little teasing and some cold air.

“So fuckin’ pretty. I love these tits, baby.”

He leans down and sucks a nipple into his mouth, swirling his warm tongue around it before tugging on it with his lips. He scrapes his teeth over the sensitive bud and you gasp, hands landing on Joel’s chest as you fist his shirt once more.

Wetness easily pools in your panties as he continues his ministrations, giving the other nipple as much attention as the previous. He eventually licks down your sternum, nipping his way down your torso before grabbing leggings by the waistband and yanking them down.

“Joel, I’m all sweaty,” you whine, not particularly keen on him going down on you when you feel… musty.

“Since when have I given a shit about that, baby? You know I’d eat this pretty pussy for breakfast lunch and dinner, given the chance. Now hush up n’ let me eat you like you deserve.”

And he’s about to dive right in when the doorbell rings. You whine in frustration, rubbing your brow impatiently.

“Guess we don’t have forty minutes,” you bite, and he has to roll his lips into his mouth to refrain from laughing. You roll your eyes at him and gently push him off of you, standing from the bed to adjust your clothes. You make your way out of the bedroom, and Joel can’t help but land a hefty smack to your ass.

You swivel your head to look back at him and give him an unconvincing scowl. He’s sporting an amused expression in return. “Hands off, Miller.”

“Uh uh. We’re in our house now, sugar. Not a chance.”

He wraps his arms around your waist as you both pad over to the front door, opening it to see your brothers standing there.

“Hey look, it’s Dumb and Dumber,” you muse, and you scrunch your nose with a laugh as Andy rolls his eyes. Cole flips you off with a saccharine smile plastered to his lips as you step to the side to let them in.

“Just to let you know, Miller, you’re insane for asking our baby sister to move in with you. Woman’s a goddamn menace,” Andrew starts, setting the six pack he brought onto the kitchen counter.

“That’s rich considering you and Dumber over here decided to harass him about treating me right the day before Emi’s wedding.”

Joel’s lip twitches up at the corner, and your gaze meets his as you both share an amused look. He wraps his arm around your shoulders, kissing your temple as he turns back to your brothers.

“She’s my menace. I love it. I love everything about her,” he says, giving you a chaste kiss as you beam at him.

“Eugh. Get a room,” Andrew says while he scrunches his face up in mock disgust.

You point at him in an accusatory fashion. “‘Y’know, Andy, you won’t be talking so much shit one of these days when the woman of your dreams swoops in and knocks you on your ass.”

“Jeez, who pissed in your Cheerios this morning?” Cole asks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Both of you did. Cockblockers.” You brush past them to get a bottle opener for the beers, tossing it to Joel when you find it.

“Dude, come on!”

“Fucks sake.”

Your brothers groan in unison as they pick up exactly what you were putting down.

A flush of deep red creeps up Joel’s neck and face as he opens beers and doesn’t meet either Andrew or Cole’s gazes.

“When’s the rest of the Brady Bunch supposed to get here?” You ask, pulling a water bottle out of the fridge for yourself. You uncap it and take a long sip, eyeing your brothers over the frosted plastic.

“Probably twenty minutes or so. We were already in the neighborhood so we thought we’d swing by early.”

You nod and shift your gaze back to the boxes. Your family was nice enough to volunteer to help you unpack and get things all organized, along with Tommy and Maria.

A few hours later and the once-full boxes are broken down and flattened, piling high in the living room. The rest of the stuff you need to unpack is stuff for the bedroom, but you decide to take care of it a little later.

You can’t stop thanking everybody as the day goes on, and in truth, it warms your heart that you have so many people in your corner.

“I’m happy for you, sweetheart,” your mom says as she nudges you with her hip.

“Thanks mama.” You give her a side hug and lean in to her just as Joel catches your eye and winks at you.

Your mom huffs a laugh beside you, looking at you with a knowing smirk. “That man really is your soulmate, baby girl. I’m so glad you’ve found someone who loves you the way he does.”

“You know, I told him about everything that Christian had put me through. That man looked me in the eyes and told me he’d do everything in his power to protect my heart. I completely opened up my heart to him, mom. That’s something I haven’t done in such a long time because I was so fucking scared of me being hurt again being the outcome.” You finish putting away some baking tools in a kitchen drawer before you sigh and shake your head.

“It was so clear to me, especially after his accident. I can’t fathom losing him.” You start to choke up on your words as your eyes get watery. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, trying to regain your composure.

“Oh, honey,” your mom coos, wrapping her arm around you while rubbing your arm lovingly. “I know that time was super difficult for you and you had your reasons as to why you didn’t want to talk about it. It killed me seeing you going through such a tough time. If I could’ve taken your heartache away in a beat I would’ve.”

Hot tears are fully rolling down your cheeks now and you sniffle, giving her a sad smile. “I love you, mom. Thank you for sticking by my side even during the ugliest of it all. I never meant to push you or dad away. Just know that Joel treats me so well and I don’t have to second-guess things with him. I know it’s only been a few months and it may seem like things are moving fast, but I’ve never had stronger feelings than this for someone. He’s it for me, mom.”

“I’m so proud of you for opening your heart up again, sweetheart. You deserve this happiness and love. I can’t wait for the day I get to see you up at the altar with him, and, you know, follow in Emi’s footsteps in having a baby.” She gives you a wink and a kiss on the cheek before wiping a tear from your face before rejoining everyone in the living room.

And it’s at this moment that you feel your heart grow fuller, completely surrounded by love—and, for the first time in years—full contentment and certainty.

The quietness of the usually noisy home the following day was almost unsettling. It’s something that you know will take time to get used to, but luckily you have your Bluetooth speaker and your favorites playlist to keep you company.

You make a checklist of everything you need to do today, and you’re determined to get it done before Joel and Sarah come home. The first thing on the list is to put away the last of your stuff and tidy up the house, which you get done in a couple of hours. It’s around eleven when you finish, so you decide to freshen up for the day and shower before heading downstairs to see what groceries they have in the fridge to make dinner.

As soon as you open the fridge, you spot Joel’s forgotten lunch bag. You roll your lips into your mouth before checking your watch again, figuring he’d probably eat lunch soon. You decide to pay him a visit at the firehouse to drop off his lunch and get all of the flattened boxes that lay in the living room to a recycling facility.

You load up the cardboard in your car and grab Joel’s lunch, starting the twenty minute drive to the firehouse. When you get there, you notice one of the trucks missing from the apparatus bay. Other than that, everything else is in place and the firehouse is completely quiet, except for some faint clinking noises coming from the second level.

Your mind reels for a second, remembering the first time you walked through these doors. It had only been a few months back, but it seems like a lifetime ago. You truly couldn’t fathom how far you’ve come not only personally, but in your relationship with Joel as well.

You remember being so uncertain about all of this. Nervous to take the next step. Push yourself to trust Joel and see where the leap of shattered faith would take you. You never in a million years thought it’d land you here, but you were beyond indebted to the universe that it did.

You climb the stairs to the second floor and see Joel standing with his back to you, washing dishes. You take this time to eye him head-to-toe, admiring his strong build and tall stature as the muscles in his biceps and forearms flexed while he scrubbed away what looked like egg scraps off of a plate. His uniform is fitted to his figure like a glove with the navy blue Austin Fire Department t-shirt tucked into his crisp navy blue slacks with black steel-toed boots to finish off the look. His brown curls are neatly combed, and you just know he’s sporting that one Clark Kent curl in the front that drives you absolutely nuts.

The dull ache in your core resurfaces from yesterday before you were so rudely interrupted from getting your pussy eaten like it was Joel’s last fucking meal. You nearly moan at the thought and shake your head with a brief sigh before you bite your lip.

You let out a low whistle and giggle. “Looking good, Miller,” you say, stepping closer to him now. Joel swivels his head to look over his shoulder and his gaze meets yours with surprise written all over his expression.

“Hey baby,” he says, finishing rinsing off the last of the dishes before turning off the tap and wiping his hands. He makes his way over to you with a grin, planting a sweet kiss on your lips before wrapping his arms around your waist securely. “This is a real nice surprise. Watcha doin’ here?”

You hold up his lunch bag with a smirk. “Someone was in a rush this morning,” you tease. He chuckles and takes his lunch bag from your hand.

“Guess I was. Didn’t even realize it. Woke up later than I intended to, but leavin’ you behind in bed is just so damn hard.” He kisses your forehead and you sigh in contentment.

“Tell me about it. The bed gets so damn cold without my own personal furnace right beside me.” You giggle as he tosses his head back with a hearty laugh, and you admire the crow’s feet around his eyes as they crinkle. Everything about this man is just so damn beautiful.

He fixates his gaze on you once more before sliding his free hand down to your ass to give it a love tap.

“Thank you for bringin’ this to me. Probably woulda just stole Tommy’s lunch if I didn’t have one.”

You huff a laugh before you finally look around, noticing that there’s nobody else in the vicinity.

“Is it just you here?” You ask, and he lets go of you so he can put his lunch bag in the fridge.

He nods. “Mhm. Everyone’s on a call. Left a couple ‘a minutes before you came here.”

“Oh,” you grimace. “I’m sorry you’re not out with them,” you say sympathetically.

“Ain’t a worry, baby. Gives me the chance to tidy the place up and rest my bones. Just glad ‘m not drivin’ you crazy at home anymore.”

“You didn’t drive me crazy,” you laugh. “I’m already there.”

“Funny.”

“I know,” you gleam at him before scrunching your nose, heading toward the steps.

“Leavin’ already?” He falls in step behind you and follows you down the steps.

“Don’t wanna bug you too much while you’re at work.”

He scoffs and shakes his head before stopping you next to the firetruck. “Woman, when you gonna learn that you never bug me?” He’s got a teasing glint in his eyes and you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Guess you’ll just have to teach me that lesson over…” Your eyes trail down to his lips and the corner of your mouth tugs up in the slightest. “And over.”

He moves toward you so your back is flush against the sleek red engine, caging you in as he places both hands next to your head on either side. He’s got that look in his eyes that drives you wild, and the dull ache isn’t so dull anymore. It’s a full-fledged throbbing that has your breath picking up in the slightest as you look at him staring back at you with a fire in his eyes.

“I don’t have a single problem doin’ that, darlin’.”

You swallow harshly as his eyes flit behind you for a brief second before they settle back on your face.

“You ever been inside a firetruck?” He asks, cocking his head to the side. He moves closer to you so his body is nearly flush to yours, give or take two or three centimeters.

Your mouth goes dry and the words you want to say seem to die on your tongue. You opt for shaking your head no. Joel smirks at that, reaching up to pull open the back door to the firetruck. He nods his head upward, and you immediately get what he’s hinting at.

“After you, baby.”

You slowly turn around and climb into the back of the truck, looking around in pure curiosity. There’s two captain’s chairs right next to each other, and Joel takes a seat on the one closest to the open door before he shuts it. The sound makes you jump and you look down at him as he tugs on your hand. He spreads his legs wide and the slacks he’s wearing hug his thighs deliciously. Your mouth nearly waters at how fucking good he looks in his element. He pats one of his thighs and you sit down on it, looking around a bit more before he gently grabs your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to look at him.

“This is actually really cool,” you say, eyes finally settling on his face once again. He doesn’t say anything for a minute, just staring at you with a lustful look in his eyes. You can practically read his mind from a mile away.

“Joel, no, we’re at your job and—”

His lips on your jaw distract you and you suck in a sharp breath as he licks at your pulse point on your neck. You know this is so wrong on so many levels, but you can’t seem to get yourself to stop and think about the consequences.

“They’re on a call,” he mumbles into your neck. “‘S gonna take ‘em awhile.”

He grabs your hips and swings your other leg over the other side of his lap so you’re straddling him. You can’t deny the slick heat between your legs and the prospect of doing something insanely inappropriate in a firetruck. This was never on your Bingo Card of Life, but when the opportunity arises, you take it.

“We never got to finish what we started yesterday,” Joel states matter-of-factly before his warm hand plunges into the front of your leggings. He raises a brow up at you when he realizes you’re going commando today. His middle finger slides through your slit easily, and you moan at the contact as you loll your head to the side. You grip onto his shoulders and lean down, crashing your lips to his in such fervor that it nearly knocks the wind out of you.

He circles your clit skillfully with the tip of his finger, and you can’t help but grind yourself onto his hand. He’s swallowing every whimper that bubbles up in your throat as you move your hips back and forth, and his free hand grabs your ass before giving it a smack.

“A little rough today, are we?” Your voice is breathy and you let out a small laugh, slowing down your grinding motions.

“Is it too much?” He asks, and you nearly want to melt into a damn puddle at how considerate he is being so concerned like this. You grin down at him and smooth out the worry line in his brow, bending down to give him a lengthy kiss. You peck his lips a couple of times before sliding your hands down his chest, feeling his strong heartbeat beneath your fingertips.

“Not at all. I like it rough.” You smirk at him as you feel his cock straining against his slacks at your words. A low growl rumbles deep in his chest before he closes his eyes for a beat. They snap open again and this time, you’re met with a darkened gaze that’s full of lust and determination.

“Yeah? How rough?” His hand slides out of your leggings and he swipes the tip of his middle finger across your bottom lip, coating it in your arousal. He coaxes your jaw open to slip his finger into your mouth, and you suck his finger willingly. You taste yourself then before you shoot him with a dead serious stare.

“Ruin me.”

He stills at your words for a beat as he sucks in a sharp breath. He grabs the back of your head and crashes his lips to yours, hands now roaming wildly before he’s frantically sliding down your leggings. You’re trying as quickly as possible to blindly unbuckle his belt and unbutton his slacks, and you slide his clothing down his thighs before he presses the head of his cock against your folds.

Before you can even think to sink down onto him, he grabs you and forces you to face downward toward the seats so you’re ass up and completely exposed to him this way.

“Such a perfect fuckin’ ass too, baby.” He grabs both of your arms and holds them behind your back, wrapping one hand around both your wrists to keep you steady. You whimper as he slides his cock through your folds once again before he suddenly slams into you.

Your mouth goes agape and your eyes roll to the back of your skull as the air in your lungs dissipates. You clench hard around him and you feel your mind completely slipping away as you see stars.

Joel presses his free hand down on your lower back and soothes you lovingly. “Breathe, baby, breathe,” he says through clenched teeth, and you can tell this is a lot for him, too.

“Move, Joel,” you choke out, sucking in a big breath of air. He does as you say, moving his hips at a brutal pace so he’s pistoning in and out of you.

You have to concentrate on breathing because it’s damn near impossible. The sound of skin slapping on skin reverberates inside of the firetruck, and your mind was absolutely reeling at how you two were doing something this scandalous.

You feel Joel’s free hand rub your ass for a brief second before he lands a harsh smack on it, and you cry out in both pain and pleasure as your skin stings from the contact.

“You like that?” He asks, somehow pounding into you even harder. Your limbs are like noodles at this point and your mind is so foggy. You try to answer him again but nothing comes out.

“Answer me, sweet girl. You like when I’m rough with you?”

You whine before you finally find your words again. “Fuck! Yes!”

He lands another harsh smack against your ass and you moan loudly before sucking in a breath when you feel his thumb circle your other hole, and he spits on it.

“J-Joel—”

“One of these days I’ll fuck you here, too.” His husky voice is full of promise as he slips his thumb into your asshole, and all you can do is nod as you feel so full like this.

“Yesyeyes oh, god—”

“He ain’t here right now, baby. Just me.” Joel darkly chuckles as he releases your wrists and uses that hand to slither between your legs, furiously and skillfully rubbing at your swollen, aching clit.

You brace your arms on the seats below you as you try to hold yourself up, but your legs are shaking uncontrollably. Joel takes his thumb out of you before sliding his hand around your body to hold you up against his body as his relentless pace begins to get sloppy.

He brings his hand up to your throat and wraps around it, yanking your head back against his shoulder as he looks down at you with a chillingly carnal stare. He almost doesn’t even look like the sweet man you’re in love with, but a darker version that’s consumed his being.

Seeing this side of him makes you even more hot and bothered and your body easily succumbs to his ministrations, so reactive to his touch and words.

He uses his thumb from the hand on the throat to tug at your chin, coaxing your jaw open as a wicked grin curls onto his lips before he spits into your mouth.

The heat that was once a low simmer in your belly is now a fire roaring throughout the veins in your body, igniting you and consuming you as a whole. You swallow before he leans down to kiss you hungrily, and that’s what does it for you.

You surge over the edge, orgasm crashing over you like waves on a shore. Joel swallows all of your cries and pleads against his lips, groaning at how you’re pulsing around him as you ride through your undoing. He squeezes the sides of your neck as he comes undone, arm moving down to wrap around your waist as his whole body stills.

You feel his hot spend fill you up with each last harsh thrust he gives you before he stills completely. He kisses your shoulder lovingly before pulling out, groaning into your sweater as he does so. You feel his spend leak down the apex of your thighs, and Joel collects some on his finger as he swipes it through your folds.

You shiver at his overstimulating touch, looking back at him as he smirks and brings his finger toward your mouth. You eagerly open it for him, moaning around his finger as you get a taste of the both of you.

“You know, for someone who’s such a sweetheart, you really are a lil’ freaky. Just how I like it,” Joel says with a chest-rumbling laugh. You roll your eyes at him before he kisses your temple and helps you pull up your leggings before he tucks himself back into his boxers and fixes his uniform to look somewhat presentable again, opening the door to get out.

“You’re one to talk, Miller,” you say, grabbing his hand as he helps you hop down out of the firetruck.

“I’m an angel. Completely innocent. No idea what you’re insinuatin’, pretty lady.” He wiggles his eyebrows as you roll your eyes at him once more before laughing.

“Sure, and I’ve got telekinesis.”

He opens his mouth to retort, but is cut off by the sound of the other fire engine beginning to back up into the empty spot of the bay.

Everyone starts to unload one-by-one, waving hi to you as they see you and Joel standing there. You’re hoping to god you don’t have a ‘we-just-fucked-in-the-back-of-the-firetruck’ look slapped across your forehead. Luckily, nobody seems to notice, and if they do, they don’t say anything.

Until Tommy rounds the corner of the smaller truck. He looks at you both and pauses, taking in your appearances. Your face burns and you know if you look down at the ground it’ll give you both away, but anything is better than being under the younger Miller’s scrutinizing stare.

Everyone’s gone upstairs at this point except for you three, and the sudden howl of laughter Tommy lets out makes you jump. He’s bent over with his hands clutching his knees, face and neck turning red with how hard he’s laughing. He’s got tears in his eyes that he wipes away with a knuckle, and it’s a couple of minutes before he finally calms down and catches his breath again.

He straightens out and looks between the two of you again, lips wobbling as if he’s trying to hold back more laughter.

“Oh for fucks sake, out with it.” Joel rolls his eyes at his brother as he wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you back so you stumble into his solid body.

“You two are unbelievable. You’re not that slick and you know, you both have guilty written across your foreheads. I know what you did, you nasties.”

“Might I remind you about that time I caught you and Maria—”

“Hey hey hey, this ain’t about me and my girl, this is about you two.” Tommy chuckles as he holds his hands up in surrender.

“Don’t y’all get enough time at home?” Tommy teases, and you bury your face into Joel’s chest with a groan.

“Shut up Tommy,” you say.

“No actually, because you’re always there,” Joel retorts, which causes Tommy to laugh again.

“Oh please, like that’s stopped y’all before.”

“Not another word about it, brother,” Joel warns, and Tommy smirks at him.

“Fine. But ya might wanna take care of that stain on your pants.”

Joel’s eyes snap down to his slacks the same time yours do, but you don’t see anything.

Fucking Tommy.

“Bastard,” Joel mumbles.

You decide to get in on the teasing. You pat Joel’s chest and sigh, shaking your head. “Guess that means no more sex for us, cowboy.”

You give him a loving kiss on the cheek before you pry yourself out of Joel’s grip and turn to walk out of the firehouse, fighting your giggles as you leave a dumbfounded Joel who calls out ‘you’re not serious, are you?’, and a, yet again, doubled over Tommy with tears in his eyes from laughing so hard behind you.

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#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfic #joel fic #joel miller au #firefighter!joel miller #joel miller fluff #joel miller series #pedro pascal characters #tlou au

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a-court-of-fics-and-errors · 9 months ago

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Keep Moving Forwards, Part 1

Azriel x Reader Fic

Summary: After finally deciding to leave your abusive and manipulative mate for good, you find unexpected companionship with Azriel, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. As you navigate the aftermath of your traumatic relationship, you struggle to understand where the mating bond went wrong and contemplate your path forward, vowing never to return to the past.

Find other parts here: Master List

To follow this fic, follow that "Keep Moving Forwards Fic"

Content Warning: This story contains depictions of extreme emotional manipulation and abuse, mentions of physical abuse, loss of a child, and general trauma.

Word Count: 4.3k

Author's Note: This is the first part of what I anticipate will be a multi-part series. Unlike my previous works, this fanfiction delves deeper than just fluff, exploring complex emotional landscapes. As I navigate this new writing journey, I kindly ask for gentle feedback. The topics addressed are profoundly impactful, touching many lives with diverse experiences. Please be gentle with yourselves and others. Healing is a journey, and everyone processes it differently. Be kind to yourself. Take what resonates, and leave what doesn’t.

Please continue reading being aware of the above content warnings, ensuring you are in a healthy headspace. Give yourself time to process and be gentle with yourself.

Keep Moving Forwards, Part 1

There would be no going back. You had promised yourself that. As you stepped out of the cabin door, you vowed not to look back, not to turn around, not to wish for what was. You would move forward, one foot in front of the other, into the world. Yet, as you crested the first hill, your heart clenched, and tears welled in your eyes, a sudden and overwhelming loneliness gripping you. You shook your head, dismissing the thought. What could possibly bring you back to that place? A place where everything hurt constantly, and the only safe refuge was sleep—where even then, he invaded your subconscious.

You wouldn’t go back. Not this time. Not like the last time.

Pushing the tears down, you took another step forward. The companionship of the night, lit by the full moon, felt both lonely and liberating. You adjusted your pack and pulled your oversized, worn leather jacket tighter around your torso as you silently crept through the forest.

It wouldn’t be morning for a few more hours, and if you kept moving, you would cross the river while it was still dark. You had a plan and a general idea of where you were heading, but at the time you made this plan, your only thought was to get as far away as possible. To put as much distance as you could between yourself and the old, rotten cabin that had been your home for the past fifty-three years.

The moonlight made the trees seem farther apart, and you felt exposed. Glancing over your shoulder, despite the hill and the fallen trees and boulders between you and the cabin, you imagined you could still see smoke rising from the chimney. You quickened your pace.

You hoisted yourself over a fallen log, the moss soft and forgiving under your fingertips. The new spring air was beginning to overtake the cold of winter, and the damp scent of rain filled your nose. You had loved spring—or at least you used to, fifty-three years ago. Now, you couldn't remember what you loved or who you would be when you finally made it away. But you would make it away. You would not go back. Not for anything. No matter how much he begged, no matter how much he cried, no matter how much you ached to return.

Hours passed as you continued your trudge through the woods, your legs growing more tired with each step as you carefully descended the mountain. You lost your footing twice, but quickly regained your balance, careful not to make a sound. You wouldn’t stop moving, not until you had crossed the river.

As the night sky shifted from deep blue to purple, and the first light of dawn began to creep over the horizon, you heard the rushing of the river and quickened your pace.

When you reached the clear waters of the Highlawn River, you stopped, tossing your pack onto the pebbled shore, and leaned down to drink from the cold, clean water. You dipped your hands in greedily, cupping them to your lips, when you caught sight of your reflection glaring back at you. As you sipped, your eyes traced the cut on your cheekbone. What had once been a wound was now only a trace of dried blood, just like the gash on your forehead. You splashed water onto your face, scrubbing at the blood caked on your skin. You scrubbed the area raw and red, as if washing it away would also erase the memory of what caused the bleeding.

Kneeling there, your face burning slightly from the cold water, you took a deep breath and let yourself feel alive.

You pulled your jacket back over your shoulders, catching his scent, which made you recoil, your heart racing and your stomach dropping. But you reminded yourself you were alone. He was not with you. He would never be with you again. You grabbed your pack and hauled it back onto your shoulder, then turned and wandered down the shore of the river, searching for the shallow, rocky crossing. When you reached it, you carefully tiptoed across, taking care not to slip into the nearly freezing water.

Once on the other side, you turned and looked back up the mountain you had just descended, squinting to see the cabin's roof that sometimes poked out when the leaves were down. You couldn’t find it. Not that you wanted to, but you just couldn’t help yourself.

He would be getting up soon. He would find your note. Would he run from the house calling your name? Would he cry? Would he rage, swearing what he would do when he found you? Would he hunt you down, sending birds flying from trees and animals racing for their burrows? Or would he stand there in silence, reading the note, his green eyes calm and collected, before starting the kettle for his tea?

You hoped you would never find out. You turned again and walked farther into the deeper woods. You would not come back. You would live. You would live your life. You would survive this, just as you had survived the last fifty-three years.

As the early morning turned warmer and the sun rose higher, heating your hair and sending warmth radiating down your body, you removed your jacket, tying it around your waist. You continued wandering through the deeper woods, determined to reach the tavern, a day's walk away. Despite your legs burning and aching for rest, you kept moving forward. You would always keep moving forward.

The trees of the Night Court, now blooming with spring flowers, cast shadows on the forest floor. The sun's warmth on your face was both comforting and energizing. Morning shifted to afternoon, and afternoon into evening, and by the time you saw the tavern lights, you were nearly crawling with exhaustion. A renewed sense of energy hit you, and you made your way across the field, nearly running as you pushed open the creaky wooden door.

You peered around the lively room, searching for an open table. The crowd chattered animatedly, downing beers and spirits, guffawing with friends. You hadn't been around this many people in a very long time. Almost giddy with excitement, you chose a table near the back of the tavern. Settling into the booth, a waitress promptly placed a cold glass of water on the table, which you downed before she could introduce herself. You ordered a plate of chicken and potatoes and allowed yourself a moment to breathe. Leaning back in your chair, you felt your spine relax and the ache in your feet begin to subside.

When your dinner arrived, you scarfed it down as quickly as you had the water, the grease of the meat making your lips shine. You wiped your face with your sleeve, not caring if you looked like an animal. When you inquired about a room, the waitress informed you there was one left, but it was connected to another room already rented. You considered sleeping in the woods but knew you wouldn’t rest well and still had miles to travel. So, you pulled a satchel of coins from your bag, paid for the room, and gave the waitress a few extra coins, asking her to deny anyone who might come in asking about you.

When you made your way up the creaking steps, the lights in the other rooms had already been turned out for the night as the other travelers rested their weary bones. You found yourself at the end of the hall, the light under your door still lit. As you unlocked it, you were quickly taken aback by the sight of a man sitting in a chair across from you. His feet were propped up on an end table, and he leaned back comfortably in an oversized armchair, a book in one hand while the other hand lazily traced his lips. He looked up quickly, closing his book. He wore only a pair of black linen pants, his tanned skin covered in various whirling tattoos, and his black hair tousled as though he had been running his hands through it repeatedly.

“Sorry, I think you have the wrong room,” he said, quickly putting his feet back on the ground.

You paused, taking a tentative step back. “Um, no, actually, I rented this room. The owner said that someone else was staying in the adjoining one, but I can go to that one if you’ve taken this one.”

The man rose to his feet, and you suddenly noticed the large wings tucked behind him. He was much larger than he had looked when curled into that chair. “No, please,” he said, gesturing to the room and moving toward the adjoining door. “I was just using this as a sitting room.” He picked up his book, his bare feet padding across the floor. Opening the adjoining door, he ducked his head, turned back to you, wished you a goodnight, and quietly shut the door.

You didn’t move until the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears subsided. You hadn’t spoken to a man in decades, and the first one you see is half-dressed, and you walk in unannounced. Shaking your head, you muttered to yourself before walking in and shutting the door behind you, pressing your back against the wood, resting your head on it, and closing your eyes. You had worked so hard all day to keep the bond shut on your end, willing it closed while he pounded on the other side, screaming to be let in. You had given yourself a headache doing so.

You threw your pack down on the floor, pulling off your sweat-drenched shirt and pants from the hike and tossing them over the chair the man had been lounging in before flopping down onto the bed, your head pounding.

________________________________________________________

The sun beamed down onto your face as you squinted, eyes still shut as you rolled over in bed, groaning softly. You inhaled deeply, taking in the smell of the burning fire, the heavy wetness of the April woods, and the scent of spruce and sage. Your eyes opened, and you found yourself staring at the log wall, the window above it slightly open with sheer linen curtains fluttering in the wind. The quilt you had spent months making was balled at your feet, kicked away in the night as the pre-summer air seeped in through the open window. Your hair was plastered to the sides of your face with sweat.

You sat up, your cotton nightgown sticking to your torso, the lace scratching lightly at your skin as you rubbed your neck and eyes. The cabin air was slightly damp; it must have rained last night. Planting your feet on the hard wood floor, you looked across the room to see a small wooden cradle. Walking towards it, you tied your hair up with a ribbon from the window sill and leaned in to see your tiny babe, still sound asleep. You smiled down at them, brushing your fingers over their soft cheek as they softly gurgled. They were perfect, angelic, with your nose and lips, their tiny hands curled into loose fists beside their head as they slept on their back. Even in just their cloth diaper, the heat of the morning had made their cheeks red and their skin slightly damp as you continued to run soft lines down their face. Perfection. They were perfection.

The morning dove cooed its melody as the world around you seemed perfectly soft and hazy, as though all the colors were muted and edges somehow rounder. Then you heard it, the soft crying from the main room of the cabin. The babe stirred slightly but remained asleep as you looked through the open door to the living room. You glanced back at your perfect babe, still sound asleep, and then lightly stepped through the bedroom, trying to peek around the corner of the door without making the floorboards creak.

You stopped at the threshold, placing one hand delicately on the frame as you peered out. He was sitting there, on the couch he had carved for your 120th birthday, the blanket your mother gave you draped over the back. The window next to the front door was shattered in a moment of blind rage many months ago that he still hadn’t fixed.

He sat there, his head in his hands, sobbing quietly. The wet inhales and exhales formed a rock in your throat as you stood there, still as a deer. His head jerked up, and he turned to look over the back of the couch at you. His eyes were red, bloodshot, and he sniffled back another sob.

“Why would you do this?” he asked, his voice a breathless sob. “Why would you leave me?”

You said nothing, eyes wide in shock, seemingly frozen in place. The only movement in you was your heart, beating faster and faster. You worried he could hear it. Your hands and feet went numb, and you felt every twitch in your body as you tried to keep still. Your mouth parted slightly to speak, but before you could get a word out, he was standing, walking over to you, the heavy sound of his footsteps echoing in your head, pounding through the cabin until he stood in front of you. You took a step back, hands flying upwards to block the doorway.

He wrapped his arms around you, his large frame towering over yours as he sobbed into your neck. “We can fix this, baby,” he cooed into your ear, still sobbing. His height lifted you from the ground, rising to stand on your tiptoes as he continued to plead. “Just come home, baby. Come home. We can make this right.” Your arms slackened at your sides as he held you up. You swallowed the lump in your throat, unsure if you were going to scream or vomit as everything inside you burned. “Just come home,” he whispered again into your ear, his hot, wet breath streaming down your back as his tears glued your hair to your face. He pulled back to look at you, releasing you back to the floor. His green eyes peered into yours, searching for a response—the response he wanted. He leaned down to kiss you, and in a moment of bravery, you stepped back. He reached for your arm to pull you back, and you took another step backward, your hands behind you.

“Baby,” he managed to get out, but the sound of his voice, broken by sobs, no longer echoed through your mind. Instead, it was a warning. He took a step toward you, reaching out. He grabbed your wrist, which you tugged free. He took another step, reaching for you.

“No!” you shouted as he grabbed for you again. Your voice barely above a whisper, “I won’t come back.”

He stopped, his hand still extended toward you as his face twisted in anger. His mouth curved into a catlike smile, though his eyes darkened. “Where are you going to go, baby?”

You swallowed down the rock in your throat, your vision blurring as tears clouded your eyes. “I-I-” you stuttered.

He smiled at you again. “Where would you go?”

You took another tentative step back, your hands brushing the cradle, which rocked softly. Your babe cooed lightly, looking up at you with bright, brown eyes.

He peered over your shoulder at the babe in the cradle. “You want a baby? I can give you a baby,” he promised. “You just need to come home.”

You looked at him, your mouth hanging open, searching for words to shut him up. Words that would let you win. He reached for you again. “Where will you go where I can’t find you?”

You turned, grabbing the babe from the cradle, picking up their blanket with them. In the frantic motion, the babe let out a wail, but it didn’t stop you. You pushed past him, dashing through the living room, past the broken window, and down the steps. Your feet barely registered as you pounded through the front grass and headed into the woods, your babe pressed to your shoulder, crying out. As you hit the treeline, you turned to see him standing on the porch, his arms crossed, the catlike smile still inching across his face.

You tore through the woods, careful to hold your babe's head to your neck, trying not to trip over roots and branches, panting out wild breaths as the woods crashed around you.

As your babe let out another piercing wail, you found a hollowed out log that you crouched down in, trying to shush the screams. You rocked, hushed and pressed soft kisses into their temple as your heart continued to beat wildly in your ears. From behind you, you could hear branches and twigs snapping as he made his way towards you. Where would you run? Where could you go? Where can you go he wouldn’t find you? As your mind races you suddenly realize the babe has gone quiet and your arms are light, you look down and in your arms you hold an empty white blanket. A sob escapes you as you search around frantically for your babe, a wail crosses your lips as the sounds of the branches get louder and louder, you fall to the ground screaming as the sounds of him calling your name mixed with your pounding heart flood your head. It’s all gone. Everything is gone.

________________________________________________________

“Hey! Hey!”

Your eyes shoot open, and the room around you is pitch black. You hurl in a heavy breath, wheezing out a cough, sweat pouring down your face and back as you scream, but no sound comes out. As your eyes adjust to the darkness, you see moonlight streaming in from the window, tears blurring your vision, and the silhouette of someone yelling at you, their hands pressed onto your shoulders.

You rip their hands off, kicking back to ball up in the corner of the bed, pressed into the wall, ragged breaths tasting of iron in your lungs. You pull your legs into your chest, eyes wide and frantic. The figure in front of you is the male from earlier, sitting on his knees, his wings tucked behind him and his hands up, showing he means no harm.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, “It’s okay.” But it doesn’t feel okay. Everything is on fire.

You shake your head, snot running down your face, your lips quivering as you try to form words that won’t come.

He shushes you quietly, lowering himself from the bed onto the floor. He slides closer, reaching out a hand, his hazel eyes filled with concern. You look down at his hands, scarred and malformed. You try to let out another breath, but it gets caught in your throat as you cough. His extended hand covers your foot, and you continue to fight down sobs and screams. He hushes you again, “You’re safe. You’re here. You’re right here.” He squeezes your foot lightly, the pressure somehow grounding you. Your screams fade, but the tears continue to stream down your face as you cry silently. He runs his thumb up and down the top of your foot, his eyes never leaving you. After a minute, he reaches out his other hand, and you reach back. His hand engulfs yours, squeezing gently, kneeling beside your bed as if in prayer. “It’s okay.”

As if the reminder shatters something inside you, your tears fall heavy and full as your body relaxes. “Everything is,” you start, “it’s so loud.”

He lifts himself from the floor, and you curl away again, pulling your hand back. Realizing your response, he slowly lowers himself back to his knees, reaching out again. You take his hand, and he presses it between his palms so it disappears completely.

“There are clouds rolling in. I can smell the rain,” he says, barely above a whisper.

Between sharp intakes, you can smell it too. A storm is coming.

One hand stays with yours as he runs his other over the blanket. “This blanket,” he says, pressing your hand to it, “is scratchy and wool, too hot for this season.”

You nod slightly, unsure of what he’s doing. He glances at the clock. “It’s a little past two in the morning.” He looks back at you, your hand pressed into the bed, his hand over yours.

“Can I stand?” he asks, still whispering.

You nod, unable to speak. Slowly, he rises from the floor, which creaks beneath him. His movements are deliberate, raising both hands as he gets to his feet. “Can I sit down?” he asks, gesturing to the bed.

You nod, and he turns to sit next to you, his back against the wooden wall. He holds out his scarred hand again, and to take it, you have to scoot away from the wall. He takes your hand and runs his thumb up and down the back, his face now calmer. “You’re okay,” he reminds you.

Finally able to breathe more steadily, you wipe your eyes with your free hand, never letting go of his. He never loosens his grip.

“I’m-” you start, your throat raw, “I’m so sorry.”

He smiles lightly at you. “It’s okay. I was already awake.”

You look around the room, everything as you left it when you went to sleep, but the bed is a mess. Pillows have been ripped, and the sheets are strewn about as though a tornado had passed through.

You glance back at him and suddenly become aware that you’re only wearing your underwear. You rush to pull the blankets up around yourself, the wool feeling immediately too warm. The male reaches for the armchair and hands you your shirt, which you gratefully pull over your head, pushing the blanket off of you.

He looks at you again, his hazel eyes scanning your incredibly red, puffy face. “Has this happened before?” he finally asks.

You swallow and nod, licking your cracked lips. In truth, it had happened many times before, whenever you had run. In sleep, when the bond opened up, he wormed his way back into your mind and tormented you. You had replayed this scene so many times: you and the babe you wished you had, sprinting through the woods to get away, only to find the babe missing. Normally, he made it all the way to you and brought you back to the cabin, finding your scent and coming for you. But not this time.

You wipe another rogue tear from your eye, pushing the snot from your face where it pooled above your lips. You sniffle as he takes your hand again, rubbing soothing circles into the back.

“I really am sorry,” you say, the words coming out broken.

He just shakes his head. “Like I said, I was already awake.” Then he smiles slightly at you. “Are you okay?” he asks.

You nod, trying desperately to clean your face.

“I’m going to grab you a wash rag, okay?” he offers.

You shake your head. “That’s okay. You can go back to bed. I’m alright.”

He gives you a tight-lipped smile. “I’ve heard less intense screaming on the battlefield.” You look down, shameful. “Let me at least get you a washcloth.” With that, he stands slowly and makes his way to the washbasin, running a rag through the water and bringing it back to you. You look up at him, your eyelashes clumping together from the tears as he props your chin up and runs the cloth delicately over your cheeks and eyes, giving you a soft smile. When he’s finished, and the cool water has soothed the burning on your skin, he pushes your hair back behind your ear.

He hands you the cloth as he takes his place next to you on the bed again. You run the cloth over your face and chest as he watches.

Your head feels heavy, your body like you’ve run miles. Everything feels sore. You let out a sigh, wiggling your nose slightly as it finally clears.

“I am genuinely sorry,” you say, looking down at the bed, hands in your lap.

“And I genuinely don’t want you to worry about it,” he responds, chuckling slightly. “It sounds like whatever’s going on in your head is much worse than losing a few hours of sleep, if I was sleeping at all.”

You chuckle slightly as well, then look up at him. His eyes meet yours. It’s so strange. This whole interaction is very strange.

“Thank you,” you finally say.

He smiles at you, a genuine smile, laced with a tinge of pity.

“I think I’m okay now.”

He nods, his smile fading slightly. “Are you going back to sleep?” he asks.

You nod, even though you’re sure you’ll spend the rest of the night with your eyes wide open, too afraid to let your guard down again.

He slowly stands, reaching out to take the wash rag, which he brings back to the basin to wring out. He turns, looking at you again, and opens his mouth as if to say something but stops himself. He makes his way to the door of the adjoining room, still flung open from when he crashed through earlier.

“If it’s alright with you, I’m just going to keep this cracked,” he says, one hand on the door.

You nod.

“Just in case you need anything,” he says again, “not that you do, but,” he pauses and smiles, “for my sake.”

You smile, the dried tears on your cheeks making your skin feel tight, and chuckle slightly, “Sure.”

With that, he closes the door to a crack. You hear him through the wall as he crosses his own room, the rustling of blankets being pulled back and the creak of the bed as he lies down. You wait until it goes quiet before pulling the sheets back up, resting your head on the last pillow that isn’t shredded, and stare at the window, waiting for the sun to come up.

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