#Decentered one group of men just to worship another

[soobrat]

cynics; jns

part viii (final)

masterlist

words; 32k (don't even say anything)

genre; angst, smut, and fluff (the gang's all here)

warnings; descriptions of gore, mc cuts her finger on glass, mentions of revenge porn, toxic relationship(s), manipulation, cunnilingus, fingering, piv, looong dick, multiple orgasms (2), making love, l bomb, unprotected sex, choking, body worship

preface; the song for this lengthy part (especially near the middle-ish end) is The Loneliest Time by Carly Rae Jepson. I think that song perfectly encapsulates the bittersweet feeling a lot of this final chapter has. Since this chapter is unseemly in its length, I separated this with color-coded dividers so you can take a break and come back. I would’ve just separated this, in all honesty, it shouldn’t have been the last chapter yet now that I laid it out, but it’s been dragged out for too long. 

So here it is! Here Cynics was and what a ride it has been. I really hope you guys enjoyed this fic and its ending, despite me not setting up the characters and plot points up super well. Thank you for all the amazing love for this fic, I’m not sure I could’ve finished it without the incredibly sweet asks and engaging conversations. Thank you a million times~

The air is frigid as you look over the posts from user purkyung. Just as large as you before joining the Dreamies. For a moment you viewed her as a possible rival. Not because you were jealous of her or felt threatened by her, but because you were too similar to ignore. No one said anything, but you could tell people were thinking it.

Chaekyung looked like the perfect cast for the love interest in a coming-of-age story. One written by a man to entertain like-minded men. She’s pretty in a believable way. You can vividly picture her in a domestic setting. 

She played comfort games and had a substantial female audience, again, similar to yours. She didn’t ask for it or even market herself toward them, but she had a decent amount of keen male eyes on her. Enough to make her pull her shirt higher and angle her camera to cut off before her belly button.

Chaekyung, like many others, was disgusted by the breaking news. She stated as much publicly because she didn’t want to see women once again be disregarded for their well-being on such a large scale. And her daring to say as much earned her a full scale attack.

There were so many people speaking out against whoever was responsible. They had hashtags trending on multiple platforms to announce their distaste for what happened. Of course, there were people suggesting the backlash was overblown and loudly opposing, but the message was clear. People were not happy and they didn’t want this to happen again. And yet Chaekyung was still successfully torn to shreds. 

People spammed unflattering pictures of her under her tweets, flooded her DMs, and made countless tweets of their own trashing her and condemning anyone that supported her. If you defended her you better hope your account was private. It was the type of relentless attack that you could only gawk at in horror as she posts screenshots and begs for someone to step in. For one reason or another, no one did. They stepped back and hoped she had loving people around her offline.

Even with a temporary roommate and boyfriend, your house is still empty most of the time. Taeyong is busy dealing with the aftermath of the group chat leak. The people involved are still up in the air and some people have even started to accuse you. It’s a minuscule minority, but they cite your silence on the situation as suspicious. You and Johnny both have yet to say anything. In a painfully familiar instance, a couple of twitter users accuse you of protecting YangYang. But things are going well for you right now.

So you exit twitter.

Johnny, on the other hand, slips out early in the morning and comes back when you’re already asleep. The only time you see him is when you catch glimpses of him leaving. It can’t be comfortable on your couch and he couldn’t be sleeping that much with such an insane schedule. You don’t go to sleep early. He must be coming back around 2 am. 

While you’re deep in thought, someone walks through the door. “Hey.” Taeyong ruffles your hair as he walks past you. “Productive day?” He asks, peering back for a moment before reaching for the half empty coffee pot.

With a stupid smile plastered on your face, you shrug. “Um… not really. I don’t stream today so I just sat around.”

Taeyong pours himself a glass before taking a sip. “Do you remember what we talked about?” 

You gasp, you had completely forgotten. Looking down, you clench the mug of coffee you’d been nursing. Maybe it was for the best you didn’t remember. You nip at the dead skin on your lip. “Well, I remember now.”

“You should consider it.” Taeyong sets a hand on your shoulder. “It’ll be good for you.”

“I don’t know, Tae. Everything is already going great…”

“I know you saw those tweets, right?”

Your hand loosens on the mug as you swallow. “What, the ones accusing me? It’s insubstantial.” You say in a strange attempt to appeal to him, “And there are only three or so tweets.”

“I’m sure you noticed the most popular one has five thousand likes. Sure, it’s not like it’s ten thousand or a hundred thousand, but that could change.”

It was easy to ignore the amount of likes, you just closed twitter and forcibly forgot about it. Now he was making it impossible to ignore. The concern over this situation started to merge with your concern over Naeun. That’s neglecting to factor in Johnny living with you. You feel trapped.

“If I do a little digging, I’m sure I can find some girls included in the group chat. Getting those girls to come out against YangYang and forming a new group with them would be huge for you.” He places his mug on the table, standing close enough that you can feel heat radiating off his body.

“I already have a group, though. Making another group when I just got into one seems a bit strange.” You do it again, responding to him to try and appease him. In his presence, you start to doubt your thought process tenfold.

“Yes, but are you really a Dreamie? Do you really want to be seen as a guest star for the rest of your career? Or worse…” Taeyong pauses to slip his phone out of his pocket. His screen is presented to you, showing an equally popular tweet.

‘Does anyone else feel like ___ is leeching off of the boys’ fame? She left before anything even happened in Taeyong’s group. Maybe she thought they weren’t popular enough for her.’

You take the phone into your grasp. The replies and quote tweets were insane, the combined amount nearly outnumbering the likes. Looking through them was like getting whiplash. Some people were defending you, citing your appearance on that podcast and the fact that Mark backs your story to explain things. Others confirm they’ve had this suspicion as well. The most baffling aspect was that each side was equally popular. There was no domineering opinion. Even the arguments were neck in neck with likes.

You pass the phone back to him with a shaky exhale. “I’ll think about it.”

Taeyong presents you with a tight smile. “You should do that.”

-

“We can get it under control.” Jeno states sternly. You wave him off. “No, this is my mess. I’ll handle it.”

“It’s our fans causing a ruckus, we’re partly responsible.” Chenle adds nervously.

“Let’s be honest it’s mostly Donghyuck’s crazy ass fans.” Jaemin pipes up and incites chaos. 

“How is this my fault?” 

“No one said it was your fault, Hyuck.” Mark tries but all of the boys shout over each other. It’s impossible to form a rational thought. Mark’s shouting for them to be quiet isn’t making it any better. You could just leave, it’s a possibility that was always on the table, just taunting you. Sure, you were skilled, but that doesn’t mean you should be a popular streamer. This career path was far-fetched to begin with. You sit stiffly on Mark’s recliner, watching as the tight-knit group of boys quarrel over your situation.

Unable to handle the noise overwhelming your thoughts, you stand from the chair. You mumble an apology as you head for the front door. Mark calls after you before following you out of his house. 

“What’s wrong?” Mark is immediately attentive. The worry tugging at his brows makes your heart ache. Mark was the only constant throughout this entire debacle. Always checking in on you, being the sweetest person on Earth, and most importantly, sticking up for you.

“God, Mark. I’m so sorry for snapping at you after the podcast.” You shake your head.

“You were right, though. I should’ve spoken up sooner.”

“But if we switched places, I probably would’ve done that same thing. It was scary!” Your laugh contrasts the tears springing to your eyes. “You’re too nice to me. On top of everything, you invite me into the Dreamies and look at what I did.” You gesture to the door, where the bickering started to pick back up.

“This always happens at some point. It’s normal.” Mark chuckles before staring somberly at your wet eyes. 

“It sucks that you feel like a burden for trying to heal.” Your eyes flicker toward him and he holds your gaze.

His words linger in your mind long after he says them. The two of you stare quietly at the sunset, feeling the temperature shift ever so slightly cooler. “Taeyong told me about the idea he has for you.” You nod, waiting for him to shoot it down.

“I think it’s a good idea.”

Your eyes slowly move from the darkening sky to Mark’s smile. “Really?”

“It’s not his group, so he won’t invite Johnny or any other shitty people. I like Taeyong but he really has a knack for finding some terrible people.” You both laugh. “Except for you of course.” He glances at you with his eyebrows raised. “I’m happy for the two of you.”

“Thank you.”

This conversation awakens the same strange emotion you have had around Jisoo and Jungwoo lately. Jungwoo has taken your sexual breakup well, a little too well. They haven’t ripped you a new one for letting Johnny crash on your couch. They’ve also, though tentatively, supported your relationship with Taeyong. As your gaze lowers from the sunset, you think back on how they get when you mention Taeyong. For some strange reason, that’s the aspect they seem most openly uneasy about.

That doesn’t make you feel the overwhelming support any less. Mark is just a sweetheart to a sickening degree but that strange emotion still remains. Even Mark had his moments of trying to warn you about the people in your life. Now everyone is strangely quiet. There are not many people telling you how to navigate these choices you have to make.

-

“Are you happy now?”

With a sharp inhale Johnny is awake again. To his dismay, he is again greeted by your scent and likeness as soon as he wakes up. Your jacket is draped over the back of the couch, drenched in your favorite perfume. Why he turns to look at the picture of you, he never understands. He swallows thickly, trying to quell the sickening feeling waking up under your roof gives him as he searches haphazardly for his phone. 

The time reads 4 am. He locks his phone and tosses it on the table. He barely sleeps anymore. How could he when those nightmares were back with a vengeance? Every time he blinks he sees your shattered skull, so he keeps his eyes open until the sharp stinging pricks them closed. He needs to get out of here.

Walking aimlessly into the crisp early morning air helps him breathe freer. It also helps quell some of the nausea from his hangover. With a deep inhale, he fills his lungs with clean air. There’s a lounge eight minutes away that opens earlier than the other bars and lounges in the area. When it does, he’ll be able to silence the voice in his brain making him feel guilty.

But then he’s back under your roof. 

First you use fond memories to make yourself feel better. Then you let her soothe you that night. Now you’re living on her couch. 

“It’s shameful.” He finishes the guilt trip aloud before his head can.

“What’s shameful?”

For the first time since he’d woken up, Johnny felt fully alert as he heard Taeyong’s voice. He glances over at him as he peacefully drinks coffee. He unlocks his phone again to check the time. 6 am. 

Knowing he wasn’t going to answer, Taeyong just asks another question. “Been talking to her much?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Johnny grunts. “You were there. She made it clear that she didn’t want to be friends anymore.” It seemed like he was rubbing salt in the wound.

“I see.” Taeyong takes a long slurp of his coffee before setting it carefully onto the polished wood. “I’m dissolving the group.”

So all that “conversation” was just his clumsy way of smoothing the path to his news. Johnny figured as much, Nayeon is gone and Mark sure as hell isn’t coming back. Like Taeyong said, he could very easily persuade you to come back one way or another, but three wasn’t enough. All that was left of the group he spent his formative years in were tainted memories and burned bridges. Which brings Johnny to the man sitting at your dining room table. It’s been a very long time since Johnny could say he liked the guy. 

“I guess I’ll be seeing you often, at least until I’m back on my feet.”

“And when is that exactly?” Taeyong turns to face the taller man from his seat, squinting as he awaits his answer. Johnny frowns at his unsuspected jab. That’s one thing Johnny didn’t take into account, if Taeyong liked him. 

“I’m trying my best.”

“Well don’t take this the wrong way, but could you try a little harder? I’m her boyfriend now so forgive me if I’m a little put off by you being around her. Besides, you probably feel out of place around us. Considering I’m “just as much of a little bitch as she is”.”

Overwhelming embarrassment and shame twist Johnny’s features. “I said a lot of things I didn’t really mean.”

“Do you really think matters, whether you meant it or not? You still hurt her.”

“Taeyong please,” Johnny starts getting pissed off from his increasingly apparent hypocrisy. “let’s be real for a second. You’ve been stringing her along until she was useful to you.”

“Do you think that makes us comparable?” Taeyong laughs, not refuting his accusation. “You wanna be real? Let’s be real. You treated her like utter garbage for years and trashed her self-esteem probably for good.” Johnny visibly winces at that bitter truth. The only time you really get dressed up are very rare instances, and even then it’s relatively tame. You always used to dress up in middle and high school. You didn’t even let your bullies pressure you out of it. But Johnny did the trick. 

“Now you’re sleeping on her couch while you barely even speak to the woman. No ‘hello’ or ‘thank you’, just leaving and coming back to sleep like it’s a hotel. You should be waiting on her hand and foot and you haven’t even picked up a broom.”

“I get it, I know! I think about it every night before I go to sleep.” Johnny vents, his breathing rapid before he lets out an exasperated sigh.

“If you get it then read the room. I can tell you have the urge to act on some selfish sense of a savior complex suddenly, just save it.” Though Taeyong’s expression is stern, it’s nowhere close to that day he kicked Lucas, Doyoung, and YangYang out. There’s no real passion behind his words. However, there’s a ton of truth, whether Johnny likes it or not.

“You owe it to her to leave her be.”

The two men stare each other down. Johnny knows there was so much left unsaid, such as his dubious motives. He has expressed on multiple occasions that he doesn’t like being around you. He basically called you a nuisance not long before he dumped Nayeon in favor of you. But was it Johnny’s place?

Your bedroom door creeks open slowly before you appear behind it, scrubbing at your eyes. “What’s going on? It’s six in the morning.” Your shirt lifts as you stretch, showing your upper thighs. Johnny snaps his head away, eyes frantically moving around the room but looking at nothing. 

“Don’t worry about it. Go back to bed.” Taeyong murmurs, turning his head slightly. You stay rooted in your spot, grogginess clearing up as you chew on your lip.

“Johnny?”

He glances at Taeyong who shoots him one last stern look. “I was just leaving and ran into him. We were having a conversation, that’s all.” Johnny assures you.

“Leaving?” You look between both men confusedly. “You’re okay with going home?”

“Yeah, thanks for letting me stay here. You really didn’t have to do that.” He slowly pans his gaze on you, only holding it for a second before looking at the floor. “Goodbye.” This time it was truly final. There’s nothing tying them to each other anymore. He’d probably live out in his car for as long as he can take it. After a while, would he accept defeat and go crawling back to his parent’s house? The thought makes him involuntarily grimace. 

“Don’t leave.” It’s more of a command than a request. You make your way toward him, eyes trained on him even as Taeyong tells you to let him go. “He wants to leave.” When you reach him, you crane your head high as you really study his face.

“How many years has it been since we’ve known each other? You really think I don’t know when you’re lying?” The tightness of your jaw and apprehension hanging off every word wipe any playfulness that could be interpreted away. Every time the two of you speak there’s this undeniable weight that never goes away. Johnny’s not even sure when it got there. 

“I’m fine. I’m a grown man.”

“I saw you after you got home and fell asleep. I could smell the alcohol, Johnny.” His previous statement seemed to annoy you somehow. “You only got three hours of sleep. And you’re starting to look like a lumberjack- just come back and lay down for a few more hours.”

“I have overstayed my welcome considerably. I should’ve left the day Jaehyun did.” Johnny states firmly. This is the first time in a long time the two of them were able to have a mostly regular conversation. Looking at you with your eyebrows drawn together atop your wide eyes swimming in worry, he feared he might do something stupid.

“Says who?”

“Says me. It was selfish of me to stay here.” He turns to leave but stops when he feels your hands around his forearm. Your stare falters when he looks back at you.

“If you don’t want to be selfish… you could help me out. I’m gonna get busier in the coming months and could use some help around the house.”

Your fingertips are hot against his skin. He felt they might actually singe him. But Johnny didn’t pull away. “You don’t have any friends that could help?”

“Not any that owe me.” You cock an eyebrow up. Johnny takes a second to appreciate the atmosphere that actually started to feel lighter. 

“Okay, fine. But when I’m actually able to leave, I’ll do so.” A small smile flickers onto his face, fizzling out soon after. 

“We’ve got a deal then.” You pull your hands away and Johnny instantly feels your pacifying effect on him wear off. “Come sleep in my bed.”

Johnny’s face goes red hot in a matter of seconds, eyes blowing wide as he stammers. “Don’t be stupid, I’m sleeping on the couch. You’ll need the rest if you’re helping me.” You narrow your eyes at him before you seemingly catch yourself after registering his troubled expression. “S-sorry I shouldn’t have called you stupid.” You lower your head, actions mirroring the night you told him he was as bad as Hyuna and Hyojong.

“Please don’t be sorry-”

The two of you flinch at the sound of glass shattering against the bowl of your sink. “Shit, sorry.” Taeyong lifts his head to look blankly at you and Johnny. “Are the two of you done?”

You look just as bewildered as he does in that moment, but you’re looking at Taeyong apologetically. “We are.” You reply, strangely eager.

-

Letting Johnny sleep in your bed was supposed to help him sleep better, but it wasn’t helping one bit. He was now completely surrounded by your scent. Was he hallucinating or was the mattress still warm from when you were here? He shouldn’t even be thinking about that. It’s hard to keep his thoughts clear in this situation. 

Eventually, it gets the best of him. He promised he’d stop using memories of you soothing him or the thought of your smile to placate his anxiety, but that was near impossible right now. Johnny takes in a trembling breath, hesitantly inhaling your scent until it’s swirling in his lungs, and prepares for another nightmare.

Except, it isn’t a nightmare. He’s sitting in bed with you. It’s morning time, the sun blankets the room in a heavenly glow. You have only a t-shirt on like you did moments ago, only it’s fully white now. You smile at him and he finds himself smiling back. You continue to smile as you place both hands on either side of his head and angle his head down. Your legs are crossed and he can see your plain white underwear. His breath hitches but he doesn’t move a muscle. One of your hands glide down your torso until it reaches your underwear, yet his head is still securely held in place. He watches breathlessly as your fingers stimulate your clit through the cloth. His mouth is dry, incredibly uncomfortably dry.

“Johnny!” You gasp. He feels the soft meat of your thighs before he even registers his hands are there. He kneads the flesh, his crotch thrumming with hot pleasure. Johnny is lost in the feeling of your flawless, plush skin under his coarse fingertips when he hears you say something. “Hm?”

You giggle. “I said are you really going through with this?”

Johnny’s blood immediately runs cold upon hearing those words again. Suddenly Johnny’s head is free, giving him the opportunity to see your face again. Except, there is no face to see. Blood cascades down your throat like a haunting necklace from your crushed brain. 

The sight jolts Johnny awake like it always does. His brain could never quite get past it anymore, it’s something he thanks his brain for immensely.

-

Maybe the couch was uncomfortable. Or you just stayed up the entire morning overthinking your decision. Especially with how standoffish Taeyong was before he left. You carefully pick the large pieces of glass from the sink and drop them in your garbage can. You huff, setting your hands on your hips as you take in all of the smaller pieces. Should you vacuum them? Resorting to google, you learn glass can ruin your garbage disposal.

“Great.” You mutter before groaning at the mess that still remained.

As advised, you pick out any pieces big enough to grab with tongs. By the time you were finished, your fingers were cramping from holding the damn things, so you pick up any left on the surface with your fingers. “Stupid fucking-”

You let out a drawn out hiss as you snatch your hand away from the sink. One of the shattered pieces sported an edge so thin it sliced through your finger like butter. You close your hand around your index finger, trying to dull the deep throb that started. As you exhale you feel contempt bubbling up inside you. As it surfaces it shifts to a pitiful, bitter feeling of defeat. You collapse onto the dining room chair as hot tears gush down your face. You bite your lip to stifle any sobs. With Johnny and Taeyong both here constantly, you felt so critical of everything you did. 

You were tired, all you wanted to do was just… be. Now you have a whole list of shit to worry about. You have no one to blame but yourself for feeling trapped. All because of the younger version of you that gets weak seeing Johnny suffer. Weak, soft, pathetic. 

The sound of your door opening makes you shoot up from the chair, wiping your tears away. You sniffle and reach for another mug as if that’s what you were doing this whole time. You can see him in your peripheral, his towering height only serving to make him stand out more. 

“Good morn-”

“Can you help me out with this glass?” You refrain from sniffling again. If you can read him like a book from subtle facial expressions, there’s no way he couldn’t pick up that you were crying.

“Sure.” He shuffles over, examining the mess Taeyong left. He opens his mouth to reem the guy for it but decides against it. 

“Is there a lot in the garbage disposal?”

“No… I uh, I got most of it.”

“Hm,” Johnny starts clearing the basin with his hands. He notices your bloody finger but he also notices that you’re trying to hide it. And yes, he does notice you side-eyeing him after he looked at your finger, so he pretends he didn’t see a thing.

You still had nothing but that goddamn shirt on. No amount of bluffing could ever fool his body into not being attracted to you. Even when he was being an asshole to you. But he hadn’t been around you enough recently to have to deal with it, so perhaps he was a little rusty at suppressing it. He desperately needed to get it under control because underneath the titillation was a seedy and foreboding feeling that frankly horrified him. Every pang of arousal felt so utterly wrong.

“I’ve been putting off laundry for too long, could you do it for me? Please try not to mix up our clothes.” The awkwardness you felt after ordering him around was instantaneous. You should just ask him to leave. What was he going to do, refuse? Sure he could rip you a new one for switching up but then he’d be gone. You’ve gotten through it before.

“Of course. If there’s anything else you need, let me know.”

You should be relieved that he didn’t seem offended, but you were relieved for an entirely different reason. He moseyed off, finishing the laundry and even folding them. He wasted no time coming back to check for another task. Didn’t even stop to play on his phone, eat, or watch tv. Little do you know it was a welcome distraction for Johnny. 

Being in his own house, he could only see all the anguish he caused in every room. When he made you cry on the couch, dumped water on you while you slept in his bed, called you a pig when you looked for a snack in his fridge, and of course the wall. But his house kept him busy. Plant upkeep was very efficient at dulling his incessant thoughts. The ones asking him what the fuck he was even doing. With everything crumbling around him they only got louder.

“I don’t have anything else for you to do,” Johnny did a good job at masking his disappointment as he nodded and started away, “but that doesn’t mean you have to leave, either.” You turn around completely from your computer. You drop your gaze once you realize how desperate that sounded. 

“I know, I just don’t want to intrude. You letting me sleep on your couch– and bed– was gracious enough, I don’t wanna lounge around or eat up your food.”

“It’s fine, I’m gonna be in here for a while anyway.”

Even before things started to fall apart, his life started to feel so formulaic and suffocating. Taking care of his flowers was the only thing that broke up the growing mundanity. He’d wake up, eat, sit around his house with friends, and then stream later that night. Then he’d just eat again and go to sleep. He had the privilege of being able to play games as a career, but still felt that same blanket of fog as if he were working a regular dead-end job. It made him really reflect on if he actually liked streaming and why he was still doing it.

Being closer to you without all the noise made it clear. Besides the not-so-clean thoughts, it felt comfortable to be in your presence. Even though you don’t look at him the way you used to and he can still sense how apprehensive you are around him, he still can’t help wanting to be around you. Even if it’s extremely awkward most of the time. He enjoyed all your little facial expressions when you reacted to things, how adorable you looked when you were focusing– and even though he hated seeing or knowing you were crying– he loved how puffy and glassy your eyes got afterward. He started streaming to stay around you. 

But it was bittersweet, because not only couldn’t he interact with you like in school, but he didn’t deserve to. He barely deserved to be around you this much. While being around you more meant witnessing all the things that made him love you despite it all, it also made him face how he changed you head on. So he dusted, wiped down, and reorganized your entertainment center to keep himself busy. He’s setting the final item back on one of the shelves when your door opens, the photo of you and your two friends. 

“What the hell Johnny…”

Johnny takes a step away from his work to slightly turn toward you, keeping his eyes on the picture. “I got a little carried away, perhaps.”

“No it’s…” You walk closer with your hands on your hips. “Huh. It’s a different color now I think.”

Johnny chuckles. “There was a thick layer of dust.”

You sigh and clench your eyes shut. “Don’t feel pressured to clean up for me. I shouldn’t have been ordering you around in the first place.”

“I shouldn’t be here in the first place.” Johnny corrects, onsetting a bitter silence he didn’t intend to. How long were the two of you going to go back and forth about this?

“But you are.” You pipe up, raising your eyebrows at him with a tight smile. “Because I asked you to be, so let’s just drop it.”

Every conversation crashed into a impenetrable wall. You couldn’t help it when a part of you found it inexcusable that you let him stay. And he couldn’t bypass his guilt. Every time you looked at each other, the first thing you remember are the bad times. If it’s not Johnny’s berating it’s the two times you went at it after you left. Neither of you knew if this was temporary or if your relationship was irreparably damaged.

Only time would tell.

For now, Johnny sneaks into your room after the sun had set, curling the object within his palm. He freezes when he feels something plush under his feet. He uses his free hand to flash his phone at the floor. There was a floor mattress with an extra comforter and one of your pillows atop it. He looks at your sleeping figure as if you’d answer the questions on his mind. 

That just didn’t feel right, so he stepped over the sleeping pad to resume what he originally had in mind. When the sun shined in your eyes that morning you could feel something strange about the finger your cut was on. You had forgotten to properly treat it. After your meeting you got too busy and forgot about it since it stopped bleeding.

You raise it in front of your squinted eyes to see a bandaid had been secured around your finger. You push air out your nose with a half smile before looking down at the mattress. Your smile flickers away upon seeing it’s empty.

-

“I heard about your meeting.” Taeyong remarks, his phone keeping him preoccupied. “The marketing agency is very interested, they’re treating you as a high priority.”

“Really? That’s a relief.” In the grand scheme of things, it was a feather being lifted from everything that had been weighing on you, but it was still something.

“You did a good job.” Taeyong states as if it’s obvious. “That’s the thing, if you put the work in you’ll experience more fruitful endeavors.” He looks up, and you can’t tell if he does that to gauge your reaction or drive home how important his words are. Because you notice how little he looks at you since you’ve started dating. How fleeting his touch is.

“I already have one girl readying her statement against YangYang. That will definitely bring a lot of eyes so the timing has to be perfect. Maybe her statement will inspire more girls to come forward, which would make my job easier,” He lets out a short laugh. You wince at how easily and nonchalantly he speaks about this situation. 

“But for now we’re really counting on you. Right when Chaeyoung makes her statement, you have to have yours ready as well. That’ll lay down the foundation before we reveal our plans for the group chat, hopefully make it seem more organic.”

Speaking out was something you forcibly put on the back burner. It was seemingly biting you in the ass more and more the longer you stay silent. There’s a mountain of guilt that comes packaged with not speaking out, but the uncertainty of it all makes it seem worth it. There’s a chance Chaeyong’s statement will be met with a poor response. Sure, people are mostly pro-Naeun and anti-group chat makers/members, but it just takes the right amount of passionate people to derail everything. Others who oppose will get scared off by the overwhelming majority, morally grey people will bandwagon. And all this for your group.

“You’re thinking too much, I can tell. You see what’s happening because you’re still not saying anything, right?”

You feel dread in your bones as he readies the post before turning his phone to you. The tweet he had shown you in your kitchen has now garnered eleven thousand likes. You take a deep breath and look away, not interested in seeing the replies. There’s no way the majority isn’t against you.

“If you come out against YangYang, not only will people stop speculating your involvement with or knowledge of the group chat, but they’ll have a more concrete reason that you left. I guarantee you tweets like this will be wiped out.” He finally pulls the phone away and you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“It doesn’t have to be complicated. Just think about it-”

“Oh my god, hi?” A trembling voice sounds beside you. You squint up at the figure ducked under the table umbrella. “I’m a huge fan of you guys! I’ve been rooting for you two since the old group first started. Can I take a picture?”

You happily pose for the picture with the fan, releasing a soft exhale through your nose when reminded of the other ship. The discourse around you was a turf war between people who ship you with Mark and people who ship you with Taeyong. That’s not even mentioning the Dreamie ships you disrupted by joining the group. With you and Mark, people conjured up tales of you guys being the closest no matter what group you were in and becoming lovers. With Taeyong it was deeper. 

Apparently, the two of you suppressed your love when he got with Nayeon, and then when you left the group his pain was too much to bear. So he broke up with Nayeon and swept you off your feet. Every fantasy your fans shared was like a peek into your dreams. It felt nice to detach from reality for a moment and get lost in them. 

“We can’t, Taeyong.” You force the words out. It pained you to say them.

“Why not?!” He grabbed you by your shoulders and shook you, freeing the tears that had been threatening to break free since you first laid eyes on him.

“Because of Nayeon!” You break down, falling to your knees as the sorrow fully blooms in your chest. He follows you, cradling you in his arms. 

“We don’t have to worry about her anymore.”

You look up at him through your dewy lashes and he just smiles warmly. 

Reading it was pure torture. Sure it was dramatic but it’s what you craved from him so that’s not what bothered you. Reading this made the nature of your actual relationship so much more apparent. And the fact that it barely changed from when you were friends. Thinking about the first time you met Nayeon made your heart wilt. He was so chivalrous with the toothpick incident but other than that it’s always been… dry.

He saw you bleed and barely had any reaction. In fact, he had no problem letting you use tape to dress your wound. All so his beautiful girlfriend could have her tiny cut properly treated. The bandaid around your index finger seems tighter all of a sudden, drawing your attention to it.

The morning after he’d done it, he didn’t address it. To be fair, you didn’t ask him why he didn’t sleep on the bed you left him if he saw it. Still, it was the most ‘Johnny’ thing he’d done in years. Now he was probably quiet about it to not push your relationship, but back then he was so embarrassed by everything. You couldn’t do anything for him and he couldn’t do anything for you without him blushing fiercely. That poor boy would blast off if he conducted any more heat. You smile to yourself, twisting your hand as you gaze fondly at the bandage.

When it came to helping the other in a dire time of need, there was no embarrassment. There was only a mutual understanding to be there for each other. As your memories get heavier, picturing him at his lowest, your smile fades. You set your hand down. 

-

Johnny was having to do a lot of chores without you asking lately. You even started asking him to stop. 

“I can wash the dishes, you don’t have to do that. You don’t even eat here.” You say, taking the plate from his hand.

He had already swept and mopped the floors, scrubbed the walls, cleaned out the fridge, and cleaned the bathroom “You haven’t given me another task and I wanted to help out.” Johnny trails off as he shrugs.

“You’ve helped plenty, the house is basically sparkling now. Thank you.” It doesn’t sound much like an expression of gratitude as you shoo him from the kitchen.

Feeling like a freeloader and wanting to preoccupy his mind, his upkeep of your home doesn’t cease. You’re starting to get warm, folded laundry on your bed every week now. You never have to wash off a dish to eat. A speck of dust couldn’t even think to form.

“Oh my god– Johnny!” You call for him and he peers out of the bathroom. “Get out of there!”

“It’s fine! I’m almost done.” He disappears back behind the door. You open your mouth to yell but close it with an extended sigh. 

“I don’t want you to be my maid, I’m not even asking you to do this so why…?”

Johnny reappears, eyes not connecting with yours as he takes his gloves off. “I really don’t have anything else to do at the moment. It’s either the bar or this, and I’m sick of the headaches.”

Now that he mentions it, you haven’t been smelling alcohol on him recently. “Okay, if cleaning is really what you want to do, I concede.” You throw your arms up in mock surrender. It wasn’t totally a lie. He really didn’t have anything else to do. He was still debating on whether or not to continue streaming or look for a different job. If he really was moving back with his parents, it was definitely the latter. But it’s mostly because when he’s drunk, he says stupid things. And he misses out on coherent conversations with you. They’re getting less awkward and slightly more frequent. It’s mostly just you scolding him for going too far on the cleaning or complaining about the strong smell of bleach, but it’s a start.

“Thank you…” He nods before returning to your bathroom. You watch him, trying to conceal how apprehensive you are.

There was something still nagging at you to stop him. You told yourself you didn’t want him to feel obligated. And feeling like you were bossing him around also sucked. But with every grimace he made at a strong smell, every curse he muttered when he dropped something, or any sign of displeasure, you felt panic set in. You realized you started to grit your teeth and shrink slightly, preparing yourself for him to blow up on you.

You find yourself glancing at the spot on your wall he punched. With time you guys could stay stagnant, maybe by some stroke of luck you’ll go back to normal, but there’s also a chance for your relationship to spoil further. In the coming weeks, you monitor him, waiting for a sign of what’s to come. 

Johnny plops down on your sofa after cleaning your windows. He had made a comment about stubborn dirt in the crevices of your window seal, and now he looks extra spent. “I stopped drinking for the headaches, but I’m starting to get a headache from the chemicals.” He murmurs breathlessly.

You nervously make your way over to his bucket of supplies and lift them from the table. Johnny’s eyes fall to the table, which the bucket left a ring on. “Oh! Let me see that for a sec,” He shoots up from the couch and you move the bucket away.

“I can do it!” You accidentally shout, wincing after the fact. “I pretty much have a day off today anyway, and it’s just a little ring.”

“Exactly, so let me get rid of it real quick and the rest of the chores are yours.” He assures. You take a minute to look at your house which looked like no one lived in it. Someone would think you just bought it from the world’s most anal real estate agent. You tuck the bucket into one arm.

“You’ve done so much already,” Again the two of you find yourselves having this same back and forth. You sigh, closing your eyes only to open them when his figure blocks out the light. He sets a gentle hand on the bucket.

“It’s your day off, you should be resting.” He states quietly. The dull thuds of your heart hammering against your ribcage fill your ears.

“Here, hit me right here.”

You attempt to retreat from him like a wounded dog backed into a corner. He feels his mild confusion shift to dread when he realizes what’s going on. Suddenly he’s back in his own living room, standing over your figure on the couch. You’re staring up at him with that same glint of fear and mistrust. 

You gasp loudly when he grabs your wrist. The feeling of him tugging it higher makes you shriek and drop the bucket to the ground. You cower away from him, tucking your head into your shoulder. Your reaction shakes him, but he remains steadfast. He clenches his eyes shut and cocks your hand back before striking across his own face. 

You untense slightly, turning your head to face him. He’s heaving, hair slightly mussed. He gives you an emphatic look. “Ball your fist.”

“Johnny- no!” You snatch your arm away, the deranged moment only becoming less sane when the loss of his touch makes your heart fall. 

Johnny takes a step back, taking a minute to gain the courage to look at you again. “I hate that you’re afraid of what I’ll do to you.” He tries to blink away the tears but they trickle from his eyes regardless. He curses under his breath. He wasn’t ready to look so soft around you. “Even that day, if you had slapped me I probably would’ve cried in front of everyone before I ever laid a hand on you. I hate that I made you feel this way.” He winces as he replays you cowering away from him and the sound of the bucket clattering to the floor in his mind.

Your hand still stings but all you can think about is how it must feel for him. Maybe you’re just an idiot and this is some game you’re falling for, but you give up on trying to figure it out. “For now I can’t help it, but that can change.” 

His glassy eyes inspect your expression as he pores over your words. Feeling spontaneous, you reach your hand up and caress his face. He immediately melts into your touch and you could break down at the sight. Guilt gnaws harder at you, grilling you on why you haven’t been there for him. All your heart sees now is the kid you cried fountains for and with. Another part reminds you of how you got here and you pull away.

“But I can revert even faster.” You warn. Johnny sniffles before nodding and staring at you blankly. Of course, what was he doing? Nuzzling into your hand like a puppy. He clears his throat and shakes his head. “No, you’re right. I’m s-”

“But don’t apologize! If we’re going to coexist we need to be more upfront and honest with each other, or else we’ll just go in circles.” You pick the bucket back up again and regard him with a steady stare. Johnny straightens up and wipes away any moisture left in his eyes.

“No apologizing and be more upfront, got it.”

-

“Chaeyoung is about ready to post her side of the story, so do you have your statement ready? Let me see it.” Taeyong is antsier by the day. You only see him when you’re talking about the group. He leans over his dining room table in anticipation of you whipping out your phone. You clench your eyes shut. “Taeyong, I haven’t written it.”

“What?! I mean, do you need me to write it for you? Because I can. I just thought you’d be able to do one thing.” Taeyong settles back into his seat as he mutters the last part. It felt like everyone was pushing you about this damn statement. All Jisoo and Jungwoo do is politely ask you about it and you can just hear it in their voices. ‘You still haven’t done it?’ 

Naeun is only here in spirit and yet it’s like she’s screaming at you. You’re causing more damage to her career and in turn her mental health the longer you wait. And now you’re gonna leave Chaeyong, someone who actually has pictures to worry over, to fend for herself. 

“I’m… I’m gonna do it, it’s just that this is more than a PR move for me, you have to know that.” You argue, exasperated over your own loaded thoughts.

“It can be both, you know that right? That’s what Chaeyoung is doing. You can honor the weight of the situation while giving your image a boost. The Earth won’t implode.” His words ooze with ridicule and it stings bad. You roll your tongue inside your mouth, nodding as you let the pain fester. 

“Is that all you think this is? Me trying to “honor the weight of the situation”?”

“I think you feel obligated to do the right thing all the time.” He meets your exasperation with infuriatingly calm patronization. You were staying quiet for personal reasons, in fact, your selfishness in this situation is what’s ripping you apart. He has no clue what he’s talking about and yet he speaks to you as if he can read your mind. You open your mouth but he beats you to the punch. “You’re not saving people by doing something so insignificant.”

“Then why do it at all? If it’s so insignificant?”

“Because it’ll stop the oncoming attack you’re in for. How many times do I have to spell it out for you? The people campaigning against you are growing. Your first mistake was joining a group with such an entitled fanbase.”

“Joining Mark’s group was the best thing to ever happen to me.” You clench your fists, wanting to stand up and storm out but you just bottle it up. You should be saying that about him, but even now he’s barely looking at you outside of annoyed glances. 

“When you want to help stop your reputation from being ruined, come talk to me.” He calmly asks you to leave his home, says he has work to do.

“We can’t…” All that anger gets swept away from his request for you to leave. You haven’t even tried asking him. You just assumed he would say no, but he’s your boyfriend. “We can’t just hang out? I don’t know… cuddle or something…”

“You know how busy I am.” He gives you that look that’s like a silent suggestion to rethink what you just said. You can’t help but feel a little guilty. At the end of the day, he’s doing this all for you. All so you can have a career that feels like your own. He’s even helping you get the growing hate under control. And you had the nerve to snap on him and think about storming out.

“I’m sorry.” You follow his instruction to leave and stand outside of his door for a moment. You need a moment to unpack your swarming thoughts. Speaking out for your own reputation is as phony and selfish as can be, but it’s no different from what you’ve been doing anyway. You’re risking being seen as selfish either way. The only person close to being in the same boat as you is Chaeyoung, and she’s in a much scarier boat.

Maybe Taeyong is right and you should toughen up. It’s advice you’d given to yourself time and time again.

-

Mini dresses, fringe or tassels, lace, and cutouts. They were all listed as predictions for next year's trends. They’re also a description of your closet currently, even at the beginning of the year. To be fair, the amount of range your closer has could include last year’s to the next decade’s trends. Looking on Tumblr or Pinterest and the most popular runway or everyday fashion looks made you excited. You could probably recreate them almost perfectly if you wanted to. And you did. But you couldn’t.

The designer black dress in your hands still had that ‘new smell’ to it. Soon enough it’d be overtaken by the smell of your closet, not drenched in your natural scent or favorite perfume. You coast your fingers along the fabric, the smoothness of the mulberry silk interrupted by slightly coarse lace. On the site, there were beautiful thin but toned women adorned in the dress showcased to taunt you. Inviting you to follow the Instagram page to taunt you even further. More than the Tumblr and Pinterest posts already do. 

Sometimes you make it far enough with your rose-tinted glasses to try them on and look in the mirror. Sometimes they don’t fit and you feel relieved, more justified for putting a hole in your wallet and still not wearing them. But no. The black dress fits like a glove. It accentuates your figure, giving the illusion of an hourglass shape. Where could you even wear this, though? It was strapless, very short, and flared out on the sides. It seemed too flashy for a club, right? And you weren’t going to wear it to a museum or something. You don’t even go to those anyway. It would be a mistake to step out of the house in this, letting yourself be perceived by everyone. You’d be asking to be judged.

Wearing jeans and a t-shirt or a sweater or a jacket or a coat was like cloaking yourself. People are still nosy but less likely to hyper-focus on you and question your methods of covering your naked body. 

But you stand there, staring a hole into your dress through the mirror. You gnaw at the inside of your cheek feeling that contempt from when you cut your finger resurfacing. You paid four hundred for this. It fits like a glove. 

Oftentimes you think about tweets made by the women you follow. Just slightly more attractive to you than you perceive yourself. 

They’d show off just the most over-the-top outfit with so many accessories it covered more skin than the actual clothes. Sometimes they’d wear the most revealing clothes you’d ever seen, making your jaw drop. The caption accompanying the pictures would be something like ‘putting on a fashion show for my neighbors’ or ‘about to go get groceries’. Every time you’d think to yourself these people are ridiculous.

But you liked the tweets. You followed them. Left lovely comments encouraging them and got silently angry at the naysayers. Even so, there was still a voice in your mind reminding you that these actions were illogical. It was fun to engage online but never to imitate in real life. Naeun would probably laugh if she saw you in this. That was reality, you told yourself.

But as you look at yourself in the mirror, the tweets come to mind, fueling you to leave the dress on. I should do my makeup too.

You weren’t going anywhere, and if people were in the room with you they’d surely point that out, but it was thrilling. As you pat the velvety foundation onto your skin you felt a rush. You even put on the lace gloves that reached your elbow. By the time you look in the mirror again, you had strappy heels on and your hair styled. Your makeup skills were a little rusty, but your heart swelled when you looked in the mirror.

You pose like the models on the site, like the models on the runway, like users on Twitter and Tumblr. Snap, snap, snap. There’s a wall of pictures of you in your camera roll. Pictures of you that were separated by a lengthy scroll of other things before you could reach the last picture of you. And you only deleted four out of the lineup.

You load the pictures into Twitter, ready to post your four favorites when you stop. You analyze the pictures again, removing one from the tweet, replacing it, then removing that one. Ultimately you opt not to tweet the pictures. Your Tumblr had a fraction of the audience of your Twitter and the user base scared you less. So you post your original four there before you could second guess yourself. You squeal as you hit ‘Post’, tossing the phone afterward. The pings were few and far in between but they still made your heart race. You leave your phone face down on your bed.

“Hey I was thinking-” The door clicking along with the sound of Johnny’s voice made you jump and yelp. You cover your body with your pillow and gawk at him. He stops and flushes, face getting red hot within moments. Your short dress is perfectly hidden with the pillow and he’s stuttering like crazy.

“Oh my god… I am so sorry I don’t know why I didn’t knock-” It was because you were usually at your computer around this time, dressed casually with no makeup on. So the thought of you being naked behind that pillow paired with how beautiful your face and hair looked right now is very bad news for Johnny.

You’re ready to shrivel into nothing and whimper until he leaves, but then your phone starts blowing up. Ding after ding distracts the both of you from this peculiar situation. You steel yourself, slowly standing from the bed and placing your pillow back at the head of your bed. Both of you continue to look at the phone before you stand to pick it up. Tumblr, other than Instagram, is the only app you didn’t mute notifications on because of how dead it usually is. It’s been a while since you heard this many notifications. 

There was a chance your pictures got the wrong kind of traction. Someone reblogged them to pick fun at you and now everyone was laughing at you. But as you see the pictures again you think why? You like the pictures, you look over every detail and decide there’s nothing wrong with them. So why would they laugh at you?

You clench your teeth as you click over to the notification tab, completely loosening up as you’re flooded with all the cute emojis and loving words your mind registers. Your heart feels like it’ll fly right out of your chest.

Right. Exactly. 

When you look up at Johnny he’s staring at you, mouth dropped open. You steel yourself again and suck in a large breath.

“Yup. I dressed up. A-and I’m not going anywhere so don’t ask!” You respond defensively to basically nothing but it’s not like you care. Johnny swallows, failing to placate his dry throat.

“You don’t have to be. Everything looks so well put together… you look like a celebrity.”

The crease between your brow eases as your defenses fall in one great big explosion. 

Your silence spurs Johnny to speak again. “I-I mean, I’m only pointing that out because I’m sure celebrities dress up for no reason too. So it’s… normal? I didn’t mean to be weird-”

“I’m going to get groceries.” You say with a smile too big to be talking about something so mundane.

“Okay, do you need me to come?”

“Nope! I got it.” You grab your purse before heading out of your room. “Wait!” He blurts out at the last second. You grip the leather strap of your purse as you wind yourself back around to face him. You were losing your courage fast, you needed to get out of here before you chickened out. Johnny realizes his lack of haste and pries his mouth open to get on with it already. “Next time you dress up… would you mind… including me. Like before.” His wording would be vague to anyone but the two of you, and maybe Jaehyun. And perhaps it was a bold ask, maybe too soon, but this development made Johnny too giddy to stop himself.

Touched would be an understatement, you could feel innumerous emotions drumming on your heart. Awe, excitement, appreciation. Longing.

“I’d love that.” You smile, unsure steps taking you backwards out of the doorway as you flash a timid smile at him. You finally pull away, shutting him in your room to bask in the sunny interaction he just had.

The door reopens not too long after and he wonders now if you forgot something. You march back into the room, attempting to feign confidence to make up for lost momentum. “Not quite ready for that yet, so I’m gonna change.”

But you did keep the hair and makeup, if that counts for anything. You shivered with excitement as you loaded your items onto the conveyor belt.

Your Tumblr had blown up in a matter of a week. The majority of your new followers had no idea who you were. Some found out through surprised replies from Dreamie fans and especially surprised ones from your older viewers, but most didn’t have a clue. It was freeing, you could read the notifications without being faced with allegations and theories. Nor any reminders.

You were still grateful for your Twitch audience, though. They were the reason you could plan to move to a different, better living quarters. You couldn’t look at them as burdens or harassers because you couldn’t blame them. They deserved to know who they were supporting, giving money to, who’s name they wore on their clothes, hats, and backpacks. You wouldn’t want to support or advertise anyone who knew or took part in that group chat either.

“You’re going to visit Chaeyoung. She wants to talk to you and I think it’s good for you to hear her out.” You nod after Taeyong speaks, noticing how sore your jaw is from clenching it so tightly.

“She’ll be free next week, I gave her your number so she’ll let you know the specific date and time. As you know, she’s a little eccentric so you won’t have to worry about how you’re dressed.” His eyes flicker over at your blouse and you curl your shoulder forward instinctively. 

It was an elegant, see through button up with sleeves that flared just after your wrists. You put a light green bralette underneath, but maybe it was too much right now.

When you were at home, though, you were unstoppable. Crafting looks was addictive, you practically ran to your room when you got home. You could finally recreate those looks you saw on social media, but you mostly did your own thing. From recreating fits with your own flare to crafting them from scratch. Posting them to Tumblr earned you so much praise and tips (which were greatly appreciated in the makeup department). It was almost as enjoyable as putting together the looks.

It was nearing the day you’re to visit Chaeyoung and someone had posted a thread of your looks to Twitter. It gained a lot of traction, in turn gaining you more followers on Tumblr. 

Then the news breaks out.

“POLICE INVESTIGATION ON POTENTIAL REVENGE PORN GROUP CHAT HAS BEEN CLOSED AFTER FINDING NO SUBSTANTIAL EVIDENCE”

It seems like every step forward sends you two steps back. You can’t think about this right now. So you go back onto Tumblr, reading each beautiful comment. And the replies on Twitter were nice too. You were scrolling through quote tweets of the thread when you saw it.

‘A bunch of female streamers are worried sick and on the verge of a breakdown and she’s having a fashion show’

It sounded like your own brain, as if this was just a hallucination to taunt you. It wouldn’t surprise you if that were the case. Each passing day of pretending everything was fine was making you feel more and more unhinged. You keep breaking down at random moments, the tiniest inconvenients. Sometimes it genuinely felt like you were thrashing underwater, losing oxygen quickly. So yes, you use Tumblr as a distraction. You try to puff out your chest but you know you’re wrong, and you can’t bury the emotion to save your life.

You think of the screenshots Chaekyung tweeted. The absolutely abhorrent things that were said to her. How shocked she must have felt. How helpless. She was begging for help and no one would step up. 

You picture her in her room, all the horrible things people said to her loud in her mind. Wondering if no one cared about her this whole time, and what she did to deserve this.

-

You knock firmly on the door of her townhouse before bouncing on your toes. She takes quite a long time before finally peeking her head out of the door. 

“Hey! Just the girl I wanted to see.” She smirks and pushes the door open. As you walk into her living room you note the theme. If it weren’t for the gray walls and brown wooden flooring, you’d be walking through a black abyss. It’s quite literally her as interior design. With her choppy pitch-black hair and sleeve of tattoos, it wouldn’t make sense if her house looked any other way. Taeyong was right about one thing. You didn’t feel weird at all dressing up to come here.

“Welcome to my humble abode or as I like to call it, emo paradise.” She spreads her arms to present her home, smiling once you laugh at her joke. “Make yourself at home. I’m expecting company, I hope that’s not an issue.”

“Oh of course not.” You perk up, maybe this is just what you needed. Chaeyoung is very popular with female streamers, she could probably introduce you to potential members.

Chaeyoung pours both of you some water before settling on a stool next to you. “I hear you’re having trouble speaking your truth against YangYang.” She not so discreetly glances to catch your reaction to the question. You suck in a breath. “Yeah, but don’t worry! Taeyong is already grilling me to make sure I’m not slacking off.”

“Oh fuck that guy.” Chaeyoung says with ease before taking a sip of her drink. She nearly chokes on her water once she realizes what she’d done. “Shit! I forgot he was your boyfriend, sorry!”

Your immediate response was to be offended, but it fizzled out almost immediately. “I mean, you’re allowed to dislike him.”

“It’s not that I dislike him per se,” She starts, clearly lying, “he just seems like the type of guy to over explain simple things to you to make himself seem smart, you know?”

“So then why are you doing this with us…?” Your question makes her sport a sour expression so you quickly reframe it. “I’m not saying that to be rude! I’m genuinely curious. As soon as Taeyong told me you were helping out I was just a little confused.”

“What do you mean?”

You hum and tap your fingers against the glass. “Does it feel icky? To frame your experience as a PR stunt?”

“Not at all. You know, it was YangYang for me, too.” Hearing her say this makes you think back to both times he propositioned you. “I fucking hated that guy, but I also wanted a quickie and he was hot as hell. I could tell he was having as good a time as I was and then he suddenly pulled out the phone. He told me he wanted a picture because of how hot I was. He was really pushy about it, and to get him to just drop it already I let him. It completely ruined the mood and I left right after, but he didn’t seem to care. Now I know why.”

Chaeyoung sets her glass on the counter and looks at you. “I have niche ass tattoos everywhere. People would know it was me automatically. It’s hard to make me squirm but that really got to me once Naeun’s leaked. I was convinced they’d just start rolling them out. I was pissed. But not just because of mine, because he had the gall to do it again and again. He had so many opportunities to stop and think about what he was doing.” She quirks her jaw, anger undoubtedly coming back to her. 

“I just imagined his smug little smile while all these women were panicking and saw red. Now I don’t care what happens as long as that fucker goes down.”

Just from the short amount of time you’ve sat with her you can tell how strong she is. She’s not bluffing to make herself look cool. Sure, she’s not bawling in the corner with her knees tucked into her chest, but you can tell this situation has even her frazzled. Who knows the extent of these other girls’ grief? But something just refuses to click. Every time you try to put yourself in that headspace it slowly dissipates again.

“Aren’t you worried nothing will happen anyway? Or that you’ll make everything worse?”

“I can be careful. I know other people’s reputations are on the line. But I know I can make a difference. I’m just one person and I’m capable of making mistakes, but as long as I can inspire someone to stay strong I’m satisfied.”

Inspire someone to stay strong. You’re reminded of your younger self, as you constantly are with her being permanently embedded inside you. Sometimes you wish you could get rid of her, but other times you realize that she guides you down the right path. Current you wouldn’t have gotten through high school and try to help Johnny while you’re at it. But she did, and with a smile on her face.

“Because the last thing you want is for someone to give in.” You finish, slowly nodding your head. She smiles at you and you give a smile back. “You get it.” She punches your shoulder and you let out a genuine laugh.

“Even if it’s not for our image, I really want to make this group.”

“Then let’s do it, babe.” Chaeyoung raises her eyebrows and her glass, letting you clink yours against hers.

“Knock knock.” A soft voice calls from the door you didn’t even hear open. You turn with a smile still plastered on your face only for it to fall when you see her.

“Naeun! Welcome!” Chaeyoung scoots away from the island to run up to her.

Her eyes look tired and her hair is up in a lopsided bun. She’s dressed in sweatpants and a sweatshirt. Naeun was very popular even in mainstream media for her beauty. She’s widely considered one of if not the prettiest woman on the platform. She took pride in how she looked and is sort of infamous for her extensive morning and night routine. If it weren’t for the emotional exhaustion so evident on her face you would think this is how she gets comfortable.

“Chaeyoung…” She trails off, not acknowledging your presence yet as she and Chaeyoung share a tight hug. 

“Look at you! All comfy.” She ignores the waver in Naeun’s voice, opting to distract her instead.

“Hello.” Naeun raises her voice a bit to greet you without making eye contact. 

“Hi.” You stand from the stool so fast you almost slip and fall. You stabilize yourself, unsure about how to take her not being able to look at you. “Johnny still living with you?”

Through the building guilt from seeing her in person confusion surfaces. “How did you know that?”

“He told me. He used to text me every day until he stopped out of nowhere. I didn’t know if something happened to him, he hasn’t been streaming or updating his social media.”

“Johnny? As in Johnny Suh? Isn’t that douchebag involved?” Chaeyoung’s charged glare that she throws at you sends you scrambling for a response. You hadn’t put much thought into Johnny’s involvement. The thought of him even knowing about it brings an amount of pain that is hard to grapple with. So you go to defend him, more for your own sanity than his integrity. But Naeun beats you to the punch.

“No, he’s not.” She sighs.

“How do you know?” Both you and Chaeyoung ask in unison. 

“Do you have alcohol, perchance?” She asks with a strained smile. All three of you migrate to the island and sip on small glasses of liquor, awaiting what Naeun has to say.

“Well?” Chaeyoung asks, not willing to wait any longer. 

Naeun snorts, the alcohol pooling warmly in her stomach. “He’s too much of a pussy to do it.”

“That’s… not evidence.”

“And also kinda rude.” You defend him before you can catch yourself. Maybe it’s a little embarrassing, but you decide to stand by it.

Naeun hated talking about Renjun’s party. When she turned up sobbing at her parent’s house they forced it out of her, and now the only things people want to talk about are just motherfucking YangYang and the party. And how turned on her body made them. Naeun lets out a hefty sigh and pulls a nail file from her purse.

“The moment my pictures got leaked my mind went into attack mode and called Johnny screaming. It was just sketchy reflecting on how he sent me to check on you and YangYang. Too convenient.” She stops filing her nails to point the glass file at you. Johnny tried to stop him a second time? You thought.

The feeling that Johnny was a sweet guy lingered even after she cussed him out. Through her anguish, her brain kept nagging at her. Johnny wouldn’t do this, you know that. 

She kept wondering why. Why was her mind so sure when her heart ached and she couldn’t stop crying long enough to breathe? When Taeyong first introduced the two of them she noticed a difference automatically. His eyes didn’t track down to her breasts. He was a gentleman, and not in the way that reeks of sleaziness and entitlement. He didn’t give her that wide, phony grin when he opened doors for her or when he offered her his jacket.

They didn’t hang out much, but when they did it felt like a natural human interaction. Not some drooling hound ogling a piece of raw steak. And even after all of that, after all of the niceties and courtesy and genuine conversation, the first favor he asked of her wasn’t a date or sex. It was to check on you. Naeun got the feeling he wasn’t the type to plan all of that in advance for something like this. She just felt it. And she’s been around lots of guys.

“It wasn’t all the voicemails or texts, it was hindsight. Chaeyoung, you’re friends with a lot of lady streamers. Have you ever heard about Johnny being sleazy?” She keeps her eyes trained on the translucent drink on the table, face slotted in between her hands.

Chaeyoung’s eyes flip up to the ceiling giving the question a good amount of consideration. “No, honestly I haven’t heard of him even getting with girls non-sleazily. I remember at one point questioning if he was gay…”

“He’s not gay.” Naeun grins with a short exhaled laugh. “He’s just softer than people think he’s supposed to be. He’s a “pussy”, but to me, that’s not a bad thing.” She glances over at you and Chaeyoung with heavy lids. Through her words and lazy gaze, both of you feel a bit criticized, and maybe rightfully so. 

You continue to look into Naeun’s eyes and she gives you a soft, seemingly empathetic smile. She had a softie once. She watched him turn into a monster and then vanish. 

“You’ve got a good one. You should keep him around.”

“He’s not-”

There it was, that incessant part of your brain here to remind you of everything Johnny has done. To keep you strong and vigilant. For the longest time, Johnny was this scary monster in your brain, huge as he loomed over you. But after leaving the group he slowly shrunk and became less threatening until now after over a month of living with him. Now all you see is this wide-eyed guy so eager to prove himself to you. Thinking about it, he crumbled as soon as you put your foot down. The others remained wicked ‘til the very end, but Johnny came around almost immediately, warning you when his friends were coming. Maybe he was a pussy. You snort before bursting into a fit of unrestrained laughter. You always were a lightweight.

Naeun watches in awe before cackling herself as Chaeyoung looks on in confusion. 

“He’s not my boyfriend.” You say between laughs.

“Well, he wants to be.” Naeun recovers before shrugging. You wind down shortly after, her words hitting you like a ton of bricks.

“No, he doesn’t like girls like me.”

“Girl, you’re the only person he’s remotely shown any interest in.” Chaeyoung rolls her eyes.

“You don’t know that.”

“I’m pretty sure she’s right,” Naeun notes after a moment of silence. “And if “girls like me” means what I think it means, and you’re thinking what I think you are, he hasn’t flirted or shown interest in me.” After so long of no courting, Naeun just assumed he was like that. 

“What do you think it means?” You say.

“I think it means you see yourself as lesser than because you don’t look like a model. It’s a global dilemma, I think.”

“Huh.” You weren’t sure if she meant to sting you with her words, but it sure worked if she did. It’s not like you didn’t know you weren’t model material, but sometimes hearing other people confirm your biggest concern in life makes it too real. Suddenly you’re all too aware of what you look like. You decided to be bold and wear a cropped sleeveless corset and heavier eye makeup. Even with no makeup, heavy eye bags, and a dull sweat suit, Naeun outclassed you by a mile. She made that actually messy bun look intentional.

“I dunno. I think you’re pretty cute.” Chaeyoung shrugs before throwing back the rest of her liquor. You grin tightly before pouring more in your cup. “Thanks, Chaeyoung.”

“Now tell me about this group.” Naeun starts. You’re too far gone to think about work right now. “I hear we’re using Taeyong?”

“Naeun!” Chaeyoung nearly chokes again before hissing at the woman. Naeun looks at her confused. You’re lost in your own world, feeling like your corset is pressing into your skin all of a sudden. Oh shit, Taeyong is your boyfriend.

“He’s my boyfriend! Hey!” You close your eyes as if to punctuate your lackluster defense of the man. “No using him!”

Naeun’s face suddenly goes grim as she warily says your name, but you don’t see it. Not that you need to, the tone of her voice is confusing enough.

“What?!”

The room is suddenly so quiet you could hear a pin drop. It unsettles everyone in the room but mostly you. You weren’t drunk enough to miss how somber the atmosphere became. Your head snaps toward Naeun who’s giving you a similar look as the one she gave at the party. Like she had just found you with someone nefarious.

 “Not him…”

-

Johnny sets a package on your bed. Must be another clothing brand sending you free stuff. You’re nearly back to your old ways in terms of fashion. He has witnessed you on multiple occasions second guess your outfit choice as soon as you leave the room and go to put on something safer. On your Tumblr, you post all of the bold looks.

jonvvie: this one looks like an outfit you wore in middle school

___: is this an insult? lol

jonvvie: no! I think it’s cool hwo you made it mor emature

jonvvie: how*

jonvvie: more mature*

Johnny smiles again at the meme you sent making fun of his typos. The person who messages him on Tumblr and the one stumbling drunk through the door feel like polar opposites. 

“Fuck Taeyong!” You slur before slamming the door shut. Johnny rushes up to you and guides you to the sofa. He leaves to fill a glass with water before returning to your hiccuping figure. He sets the cup on a coaster before taking your heels off. “That cold sunuvabitch.”

Johnny silently hands you the water and buries his confusion. It seems like you’re gonna spill everything on your own. You actually spill your water all over your shirt before swearing loudly and sending the cup crashing to the floor. “Fuck!”

“Be careful.” Johnny urges, curling your legs onto the couch. 

“We’re gonna take that asshole down. Pull the rug right under his stupid feet. He won’t know a thing.”

Unable to contain his curiosity any longer, he caves. “What do you mean…”

“I dunno, kill him?? No, too risky…” You think for a moment, looking like you’re dozing off as Johnny cleans up the glass and water. You suddenly gasp. “We should blackmail that fucker. Make him do what we want or else.”

“And what do we want?”

“I want…” You pause, suddenly feeling a lot more somber than mere seconds before. Your muddled brain couldn’t make sense of it. You wanted Taeyong. You always have. You finally did it, dated the man of your dreams. “He doesn’t touch me, Johnny.” Your lip quivers suddenly and you want to drive a piece of glass into your throat, but Johnny had already tossed them from the dustpan and was making his way back. “He hasn’t kissed me since the day we first had sex. We don’t have sex.” The words don’t even sound right. A man doesn’t want to have sex? Imagine being so unattractive that a guy doesn’t even wanna fuck you. You laugh derisively at your own misfortune.

“That’s okay, because once I’m done with his ass, I can have Jungwoo again and my bed will at least be warm some of the time.”

Johnny frowns. You must not be searching for suitors or going on dates, either because you’ve been waiting for Taeyong or Johnny ruined that for you too. Possibly both.

Now that Taeyong and your brain have ripped away your last shred of confidence, you were bitter. You wanted Taeyong and you’ve always wanted him, but what about the future? When you’re with him he only looks at you to silently belittle you or to make sure you’re listening to him yap. And all about him looking down on you for wanting to do right by what happened to you? And him speaking so casually about this horrible situation like it’s just another job for him to complete?

You gave him the benefit of the doubt. He wakes up at 6 am every day and is out all the time. Working hard, you thought. When in actuality he was visiting Naeun. 

“He started talking to me before dating Nayeon. I liked him for a moment but he said something that didn’t sit right with me, so I pulled away. He’s been pursuing me ever since, apparently through two relationships.”

When he was sucking up to Naeun, did he belittle her too? Or was she too pretty for that? Despite Naeun’s notoriety for her beauty, you would bet on him being discounting her suffering. He probably said something like ‘But that’s in the past now, look!’ And showing how many people support her. Not even factoring in her nudes still being passed around on the internet like a hot potato. ‘Your followers are growing, isn’t that a good thing?’

“You know what I really want? I wanna help those girls.” Gaining a new boost of adrenaline from the idea you settle onto your knees before looking at Johnny and grabbing his face. “You said you didn’t have anything to do, right?”

“I-I uh-”

“Great! We should shut down that group chat ourselves.” You pat his face maybe a little too hard but you were high off of adrenaline right now.

“We can use… Taeyong… somehow… to gain access to the server and shut it the fuck down.”

“I’m liking this plan, but we should talk about it more when you’re sober.” Johnny laughs at how hard you're thinking and how unnatural your blinking is.

“Fine! And sleep in my goddamn bedroom tonight! I made that floor bed up for you and it takes up so much space and I trip on it sometimes and you keep sleeping on the couch!”

Johnny purses his lips before nodding. “Okay. I will.” He lies.

“I’m drunk, not stupid.” You poke his chest. “I know you’re not gonna do it, liar.”

“The couch is fine.”

“You’re always fuckin’ tip toeing around me like I’m the one that hurt you. I should be the one tip toeing motherfucker.”

Your words burn like hell, but there’s no emotion in your voice or face clear enough to decipher them properly.  “So stop! Just sleep in my room.”

“I just don’t wanna move too fast.” Johnny stresses as if you’re in your right mind.

“You know, I’m pretty sure we did a blood shake. We’re blood bonded!”

“And spit bonded, I know.”

“Exactly! You’re the one who fucked up. I’m still a good friend.” You point at him before pointing at yourself and looking at him with your barely open eyes. “Matter of fact, where’s a piece of glass,”

“Okay. That’s enough.” He courts you off to your room, getting an earful of your drunken ranting as he tucks you in.

“Good night, we’ll talk in the morning.”

You give him a complicated look, the words having a hard time coming out even in your drunken stupor. You grab his hand, “You’re not lying?”

Johnny kneels, looking at you like he’s never been more serious in his entire life. “You can trust me.”

You're out by the time he’s made it back to your door. He glances back and decides to tuck you in properly. The sound of your computer dinging catches his ear. He walks over to turn it off and can’t help the words his eyes involuntarily catch.

There’s a chat box open between you and an account called ‘gnuykeahc’.

___: Id love you to join

It was the first message he picked up, the second one being the one before that, filling him in further.

___: the group so far consists of me, Chaeyoung, and hopefully Naeun

At the very top are a few that concern him from the other user. 

gnuykeahc: I can’t help but wonder if you’re only speaking to me because Twitter called you out

gnuykeahc: I have nothing against you but I refuse to entertain your attempts to clear your conscience 

gnuykeahc: I’m sorry

The next messages show you acknowledging her accusations, never making any attempt to refute them. Some messages manage to make Johnny a little sad.

___: I just wish I could make this all go away for you

-

You knocked out for about three hours before your eyes shot open. You look down at the floor bed, it has become instinctual at this point, and see that it’s empty. The sight adds so much weight to your already heavy heart that you start to cry.

For a moment you actually thought Taeyong was working hard for you. You were sick of being on the side while everyone else prospered. You thought he understood you and fought for you. You have dreamed of this moment since you met Taeyong. You thought that maybe one day he’d spare you some of his love. All you got was a label and a publicity stunt. That’s what this had to be, right? 

You shouldn’t be crying, you should be celebrating. Here’s to sex! You being a little less trapped! But the young girl inside you was strong. Stronger than you. So you spend the night lamenting your first love.

-

Naeun: Hey, got time to talk?

It felt surreal. Not only was she okay but she was reaching out to him to talk? Not cussing him out? It had to be a miracle. Whatever higher power that was up there was being much too gracious to him recently. Him and Naeun meet at a bar. She’s sporting a mask and cap and clothing much more casual than he’d ever seen her in. He quietly sits next to her at a table in the corner. She doesn’t acknowledge him but there’s no way she didn’t see him sit down.

“I’m so-”

“Nope. Not doing that. I don’t want to talk about that situation at all.” She cringes as she instantly shoots him down.

“But I think we need to talk about it, and my involvement, all of that.” Johnny presses.

“I know you weren’t involved. I can tell. I was just really worked up that night. Chaeyoung was ringing my phone off the hook to wake me up and then I got that news. I’m sorry for biting your head off.” She mumbles the last part.

“Don’t be sorry. I didn’t know about the group chat but I was still okay with those guys being douchebags. I was a douchebag and I enabled them.”

Naeun chews at her dry lips beneath the mask. Her skin was a mess and she was behind on her lip treatment. She felt disgusting. She didn’t know that the way she shied away from him and the way she acted after this whole debacle was very familiar for Johnny. “What’s important is that you didn’t cross the line.”

“Debatable.”

“I’m talking about what YangYang and those other guys did. That level, you haven’t reached that. You still have time to mend what you’ve done. Starting with your roommate.”

“Who, ___?” Johnny says, looking at her in confusion. “Where is this coming from?”

Naeun sighs, cradling her head in her hands. “I told her about Taeyong. I didn’t know she’d react like that. I expected her to be heartbroken, but I thought she’d just go home early or something. Not down an entire bottle of grey goose. She was already tipsy from the tiniest amount.”

Johnny laughs. “Yeah, she always was a lightweight.” You never quite explained what happened, and Johnny was tempted to ask. He stops himself. You’ll tell him if you want him to know.

"You need to hurry up and tell that girl you love her.“

It was Johnny’s turn to let out a heavy sigh. He should order a drink or two. “I can’t do that. Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“Things are going so well.” Johnny says. He’s fine with waiting. “And I’m sure she’s aware I love her. We’ve known each other since middle school, that doesn’t just go away.”

“What? No you idiot. I mean romantically.” Naeun watches as his face turns beet red and she blows a raspberry and drops her head. “Unbelievable.”

“I definitely can’t do that.” Johnny shakes his head frantically. “She doesn’t like guys like me anyway.”

Naeun laughs again, this time sarcastically. “The two of you I swear…” She sobers her expression and finally looks Johnny dead in the eyes. “She needs you.”

Johnny thinks back to your sobs muffled by your closed door. He let out a few tears himself that night. “Well, I’m here. Plus, she’s still in love with Taeyong, despite whatever he did.”

“You’re probably right, but you have to promise you’ll confess after she gets over it.”

“I’m not gonna do that.”

“What, promise? Fine. But at least consider it.”

Naeun wasn’t quite grasping what Johnny was worried about. He wasn’t too surprised. It isn’t every day you meet a pairing like you and Johnny. “I’m just worried I’ll do something and mess everything up.” This is Johnny’s last chance to do right by you. He blinks away the tears threatening to humiliate him. “I can’t lose her.”

“This is so cliche, do I even need to say it? If you love her, you have to be okay with letting her go. If she’s over Taeyong and reacts negatively to your confession to the point that it’s relationship ending, maybe it was time for that relationship to end anyway.”

She was so blunt. She definitely doesn’t understand. She could’ve stabbed him and that would’ve hurt less. The tear rolls down his face and he angrily wipes them away. He can’t think of a response that isn’t driven by his heightened emotions.

“Maybe she doesn’t need you but,”

“Naeun, I get it-”

“I had a relationship like you guys’ in high school.”

Johnny’s jaw clamps shut, resentment having a hard time draining from his eyes but he hears her out. 

“She said a lot about the two of you while she was drunk. Sorry if she reamed you that night, I would blame Chaeyoung.” She starts, continuing when Johnny just grits his teeth. “I told you about the guy that gave me hell in high school. Well, we used to be best friends. I’m talking knew each other as toddlers. Our fathers were best friends and they promised to make their kids friends as well. It worked. He and I were like each other’s diary. I could tell him anything and it just made me feel better.” A strong bond like that seemed near impossible to end badly. Maybe drift apart, but to become enemies and hurt someone you loved for so long?

“We were inseparable by the time high school came around. One night at a party we got drunk and hooked up. I could tell something changed the next day. Something was wrong. I tried to go over to his house and his mom mean-mugged me before slamming the door in my face. He spread the rumor about me being a disease-ridden-slut and the rest was history.” She recounts wistfully as if she wasn’t telling the most heart wrenching story Johnny had ever heard.

“Why didn’t you tell me the two of you used to be friends?”

“Because I tried to pretend it wasn’t true. It was easier that way.” Naeun was feeling about ready for a drink as well. “This mess is bringing it all back. I can’t believe I’m telling you this.”

“And for what? To make me feel better? Why are you being so charitable, Miss Lee?” Johnny nudges her with his shoulder and she smiles.

“Like I said. You didn’t reach that level.” He was able to pull back before he did something truly despicable. All because of how much he loved you. Naeun dreamt all the time that Sungchan didn’t let his mother slam that door on her. That he pushed through and embraced her and told her it was gonna be okay.

Johnny’s heart ached for the woman beside him. As if it didn’t ache enough already. She turns to him, staring longingly into his eyes before pulling her mask down. Before they could notice what was happening, they were drawing nearer before they tenderly closed the gap. They pull back after a short kiss, neither of them feeling what they intended.

“We can play around for now, but we can’t fix each other.” Naeun shakes her head. “We can only do that for ourselves.”

-

You’ve spent the entire day crying. It took everything in you not to cry when Taeyong was here. He asked if it was because of Johnny. An act. A poor one that somehow you completely missed. Right when you thought there weren’t any tears left, you cried some more. It was always a far-fetched fantasy.

But the more anguish you experienced, the more serious you felt about your plan. Johnny rushes into the door late at night, throwing his jacket right on the floor.

“Let’s do this.”

-

Working together with Johnny, Naeun, and Chaeyoung, you were so confident. You were passionate and angry. It was the clearest glimpse of the old you Johnny had gotten in ages. But the day Taeyong is supposed to come over you lose a lot of that drive. It’s quickly replaced with anxiety. 

Naeun’s advice weighs heavy on Johnny’s mind. It would absolutely kill him if his confession ruined your relationship. He doesn’t even want to entertain that thought. But maybe Naeun was right about letting you go.

Before he even thinks about doing that, he’s going to do everything in his power to make a significant impact on your life. More than the pitiful kid from your childhood or your supposed best friend that hurt you. He wants to set you back on track to the amazing person you were destined to be before he derailed you.

“What’re you nervous about.”

“Um…” You stare at the door, waiting for him to walk in. After this the two of you will be broken up. “I-I don’t know what’s about to happen and I’m scared.”

“What’s gonna happen is we’ll talk to him just like we practiced and it’s gonna work out.” Johnny glances over with a smile as you stand side by side.

“How can you be so sure? I just- I don’t understand.” There was nothing to be so sure about, nothing guaranteeing their success. You’d have a much easier time in life if you could figure out what everyone else’s confidence was rooted in.

“Because you’re determined to make things right.” When your head swivels toward Johnny he gives you a serious expression. “And I am too.”

The door opens but the two of you don’t stop looking at each other. Taeyong huffs as he sits at your dining table, one of the two main areas that have become your judgment zone. He jogs a stack of papers before giving the two of you a weary look without moving his head.

“Can you leave for a second? I’d like to talk to my girlfriend.”

Seeing his face again you realize something that brings an inkling of your fire back. Taeyong hadn’t visited nor spoken to you in six days.

“We’d both actually like to talk to you.” You state, making Taeyong look confusedly between the both of you. “We need you to do us a favor. We want access to the group chat and we know you’ve got connections.”

“Bold of you to assume. Even if I did, I’m not getting involved with that more than I have to be.” Taeyong replies without a second of consideration.

“Okay then, fine.” You settle at the table across from him. Your jaw was starting to get sore again as you stare him down. “I know about Naeun, she knows about me, and we’d both like you to leave us the fuck alone.” You spit, nostrils flaring as the contempt for this man builds inside of you. Six days.

“Naeun-” He scrunches his eyebrows before dread sets in on his face. “Hold on-” He fishes for his stupid phone in his pocket, only fueling your fire more.

“No need. Naeun blocked your number and gave us screenshots of your conversations. We’re not gonna post them as long as you just help us.” Johnny remains calm and rational, an accidental good cop to your bad cop.

“So, what, you’re blackmailing me? Even if that wasn’t a crime you should know to tread carefully, right?” Taeyong remains calm as well, giving that look that shows just how he thinks of the people around him.

“If you do a thing to either of our reputations Naeun will finally make a statement and include you in it, and your creepy and disrespectful texts to her.” You respond, not as calm but your passion made him falter a bit.

“You’re really gonna blackmail me for this? your pictures aren’t even in there.” Taeyong reasons frustratedly.

“Doesn’t matter to me. I know it’s a hard concept for you to understand, but I don’t like to see people get hurt. I played it your way and it felt horrible. I don’t know how you live like this but I don’t care. Just get us what we need and we’ll part ways for good.” It takes everything in Johnny not to give you a proud look.

Taeyong laughs mockingly, tilting his head to the side before looking back at you. “After all that work I put into helping with your group you’re just gonna kick me to the curb?”

“All that work?” You stand from the table as you glare at him. “You mean flirting with Naeun while we were in a relationship?”

“Please don’t stand there and act like you weren’t willfully ignorant. I let you live your fantasy and you ignored all the red flags and read fanfiction. The two of you are really good at dodging blame.” Johnny grabs your shoulders when he senses you’re about to blow up.

“You asshole…” Your voice trembles.

“Look, we just need to gain access to the group chat. That’s all. We just need that one favor, it doesn’t have to get messy.” Johnny hesitates for a moment, he didn’t want you to find out like this. “You already said how much you don’t want to be around her.” You go limp in Johnny's grasp and he lets you go, ignoring the way you look back at him.

“You know what? You’re right. I’ve probably lost ten years off my life dealing with you basket cases. So let’s just get this over with. Also, hun,” He looks at you, smiling even though tears are welling in your eyes. “Good luck on stopping that incoming hate train. You were too busy doing this, I hope you know it’s too late.”

The moment your front door closes you collapse to the floor. Johnny follows you, not holding you but staying close.

//eight months later\\

“Johnny.” You can hear him dragging his feet, explaining why it takes so long for him to appear in your doorway. You just smile from your bed. He knows exactly why you called him.

“Good news, taking my time worked. They completely trust me now.” Johnny forces a smile but you still just stare at him. “So we can start phase two.”

His smile flickers when you sit up in bed.

“Doesn’t that make you happy-”

“Johnny come in here and go to sleep.”

He makes a show of his long sigh. He thinks he’s slick, only coming in to sleep on the floor mattress once you’ve fallen asleep. You got up in the middle of the night one time and he’d dozed off on the couch watching a movie.

“I’m not tired yet.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t relax here. Hell, you could even watch Netflix on my computer if you want.” You suggest lightly as you point to your computer.

Johnny is far past vagueness, the two of you had a long discussion about communication. “Don’t you want some time to yourself? We see each other all day.”

“Not really, I’m sitting at my computer most of the time.”

You were right. The only time you hung out was when you ate dinner or you joined him on the couch and watched whatever was playing. “We don’t have to talk to each other either. You can just lay down or sit in my computer chair. It doesn’t have to be awkward.”

“Okay!” Johnny moves his feet before he could hesitate any more. He lays stiffly on the bed and you curl your body over to look at him. His eyes dance around, refusing to land on you staring at him. He didn’t even get under the covers, he just laid perfectly still with his arms by his side.

“Lovie, what are you doing?”

Johnny groans and presses his cold fingers to his hot face. That name being back was still very new. “Just laying down like you asked.”

“Suggested,” you correct, “and you can always go sit on the couch if you’re uncomfy.”

“No,” Because then he’d have to admit something else was bothering him. Your new room was much more spacious now, so it’s much less suffocating than it would’ve been. Your perfume had already soaked the air of this room. You’ve tried out a new fragrance, one even more intoxicating. Though, anything you decided to spritz your body and clothes with would drive him mad.

You watch him for a few more seconds before taking a quick inhale. “Well I’m going to sleep.”

It’s quiet… it’s awkward. At least for Johnny. You were probably taking your own advice and not making it awkward. His nightmares haven’t exactly gone away, but with the help of his therapist they haven’t been as debilitating. He explained the obvious, that they were rooted in guilt.

“I know that. It’s just getting over the guilt.”

“Do you want to get over the guilt?”

He wanted to answer yes immediately, like it was obvious, but he retracted his answer. Johnny was constantly raking himself over the coals. Telling himself he deserved every bad thing that happened to him.

“I did something horrible.”

“You told me about what she said while she was drunk, is that consistent with her sober opinions?”

Johnny knew what he was doing. She got over it so why don’t you? 

“So if she didn’t forgive me, I would be deserving of punishment then but not now?”

“Maybe you should try considering the reasoning behind her forgiveness and not the action itself.”

He didn’t ask him, he should’ve, he’ll remind himself for the next session. What if the reasoning isn’t sound? What if she forgave me too rashly?

“Why did you forgive me?” He forced his question free before it could be locked behind a high security vault. You don’t answer quickly which leads him to believe you’d fallen asleep while he was in deep thought.

“Pretty intense question for bedtime don’t you think?”

Johnny panics, wishing he could wrangle the question and shove it into the vault. Beyond the possibility of the question bothering you was the answer not being something he wanted to hear. What was he thinking?

“It’s my fault. All of this.”

You ever thinking that was remotely possible was a mind boggling riddle he’d rather you explain yourself. He makes a bewildered noise after failing to come up with words.

“I introduced us to Taeyong. I was selfish. He was the only person who smiled at me in the halls when everyone else scowled. He helped me when my books fell. He didn’t back down when his friends made fun of him or Hyojong and Hyuna threatened him. I was a child, but I wonder if I did all of that for my own gain.”

Johnny feels angered by your assumption, ready to scold you for even thinking that way, but he realizes how hard this must be for you. This isn’t the first time since he’s been living with you that you’ve expressed these concerns. You’re just trying to grapple with the aftermath of all of this just like he is.

“I introduced YangYang to the group, and Taeyong invited Nayeon. Lucas and Doyoung came on their own.” He repeats what Taeyong told him that day. “That’s just how it is, but it isn’t so cut and dry. You and I invited who we thought would enrich our lives and each other’s.” YangYang was the only guy in Johnny’s life that didn’t make fun of your looks at the time. Johnny even saw what you saw in Taeyong at first. That’s how it started, bringing people into each other’s lives that would heal your shared wounds.

“Taeyong didn’t pick on you for liking flowers…” Your voice got quieter. “So I thought he was okay.”

“Hey.” Johnny gets up from his bed to kneel beside yours. You turn onto your side and rest your hands over the edge. He places both of his over yours. Neither of you realize that the other is experiencing the same electricity. “I’m fine. Your own mental health should be your priority.”

You breathe a small laugh. Of course it sounds obvious when he says it like that. “I’m a grown man.” Your smile drains away when he says that again.

“Johnny, what does that even mean? You don’t need support?” You ask frustratedly, wanting to get to the bottom of this. “It means I’m not a little boy anymore.” He replies like it’s nothing. Like his own words aren’t kickstarting a whirlwind of thoughts.

“Am I meant to believe all the suffering I witnessed was nothing?”

You forgave him because you thought you caused all this. That’s simply not true, and that reasoning was flimsy just like he thought it would be. Once you fully realize it’s not your fault, you’ll realize you don’t actually forgive him as well. He wants to sulk about it, but his emotions aren’t important here.

“You have enough on your plate.” He murmurs dismissively. He doesn’t explain any further despite what the two of you talked about. He just rolls away from you and stays silent until your mind tires from the endless concerns and lulls you to sleep.

-

rawdawg: the pussy messiah has arrived!

Johnny cringes at each message that pops up after he speaks. It turns out it was a discord server. No new pictures have been arriving because the three suppliers had fucked off out of fear. The group chat members chastised them but they weren’t stupid enough to go do it either. Even before the leak.

jonssuh: been having fun?

rawdawg: you know it

rawdawg: we got something for ya!

Johnny already knows to look away when the picture loads and scroll up.

jonssuh: what is it? it’s not loading

rawdawg: that stupid bitch purkyung’s nudes, she took them for someone else on snapchat and he got a screenshot

There’s no way those were Chaekyung’s pictures. Most female streamers are still on high alert. And from the few times she’s agreed to meet up with you to talk, she does not seem like the type to make a slip up like this. Johnny was still panicking, though. Hers or not, it was her words against everyone who didn’t like her, which was still unfortunately a lot.

8==D: we should leak it lol

morbius sweep: are you dumb?

morbius sweep: we should blackmail her instead

He told you he’d move forward tomorrow but he wasn’t sure if these were empty threats. These were the three most active users on the server other than Johnny himself trying to build a rapport. They were undeniably lowlifes willing to throw their own lives away to tear other people down and nut in the process. Is this what Johnny looked like to you all these years? Is this how he would’ve ended up in some alternate universe? 

Johnny quickly texts you that he’s starting before switching back over to discord.

rawdawg: @ jonssuh are you ever gonna stream again man? you were so funny bro

Blerg: he was super laid back

fbivfk: top tier streamer

As the praise poured in he saw a text from you at the top of the screen.

___: okay. I’m ready

He reviews the plan in his head but keeps getting distracted by the change in discussion. After this, the server would be gone.

morbius sweep: he was legit the funniest one in the group I’m not gonna lie

The first time Lucas ever called him funny was like a temporary high. Especially after all the times he and other people called him corny or lame. He chased that high like his life depended on it. The high was so strong he was able to block out your suffering and at some points, incite it himself. He feels a flicker of that high reading these messages. It had been a while since someone stroked his ego. Right now he was effectively living his high school dream. Having sex with a beautiful woman while being called cool by people similar to the ones that ridiculed him. The people whose opinions mattered the most.

Would his younger self be able to overlook all the caveats littered amongst this fairytale? These people, they’re pathetic. Scrounging for nudes of women who would never give them the time of day. He can’t unsee the piteous nature of it all. And Naeun isn’t fucking him because she’s obsessed with him or thinks he’s cool. Laying in her bed night after night is a constant reminder that she is still coping with her heartbreak. 

Worst of all, Johnny couldn’t like the girl if he tried. He’s coming to terms with it now, the fact that you can’t control who you yearn for. You can either deny it and become bitter and miserable or just face the facts.

8==D: Doyoung and Lucas are pretty funny too

rawdawg: we all know who wasn’t

8==D: lol

morbius sweep: at least she isn’t blabbing online like Mark is

rawdawg: she knows her place

The image of your sullen expression was burned into his retinas, and it was even more vivid in this all too familiar situation.

jonssuh: you guys are too kind

jonssuh: I see the archive is filling up, yong is tellin me the cops are talking to him now about the group chat

jonssuh: they’re gonna be on our asses at any moment

rawdawg: this shit is so tiring

morbius sweep: stupid pigs

8==D: I’m not trying to fuck around man, I already deleted everything off my phone

Atreus: why? it’s not that serious

8==D: you’re willing to go to jail over this? the pictures will still be in the archive

rawdawg: just delete em until they can the investigation again

morbius sweep: if we get caught you know they’re siding with the chicks just like everyone else is.

The chat continues to go back and forth just like you predicted. You even prepared a back up plan in case people refused to cooperate. In the end, the consensus is that it’s better to be cautious. There are definitely some users lying about cooperating, and still a couple refusing altogether. 

He wants to ask why they’re doing any of this when the risk of another woman getting exposed is still there. Johnny felt the same skepticism when talking about Chaekyung with you. She seems to only be meeting with you so you’ll eventually leave her alone. She doesn’t seem keen at all. 

“It’s about bringing peace of mind. To make the situation less harrowing.”

Johnny starts typing again. Maybe the people who still have pictures will be too cowardly to post them.

jonssuh: @ everyone make sure to delete them, if they search your phone and find them you’ll be getting me in trouble with you

It takes longer than he expected, then again he was being impatient. He was pacing in the living room until everyone in the server took the poll. Ninety-seven percent said they followed through, the other three percent checked that they wouldn’t.

jonssuh: last call! I’m about to lock away the archive until this clears up

You bite your nails as you wait on him to tell you when. You have the server owner’s password written on a napkin for time sake. 

“Did he say it yet?” Chaeyoung asks for a second time.

“No.” You confirm in a low voice, concentrating on your phone. You weren’t sure if this could get you in trouble with the law. Tampering with evidence, or something. You were surprised by how little you cared. They fumbled the ball once and now you were taking matters into your own hands. Truly getting rid of the pictures for good.

Lovie: NOw

You race to log in, fingers trembling as you quickly mouse over the server settings. With a few clicks the server is deleted, and if Johnny followed the order correctly the archive was too. You jump up from your seat with an elated squeak. “I did it! It’s done!”

Chaeyoung hugs you from your back and hoists you into the air with a grunt. You’re not even phased by your sudden airborne state. This was finally over.

-

Getting over Taeyong is harder than you care to admit. He never loved you, it’s what you keep telling yourself. But then you think of his body pressed against yours in the back of Lucas’s car. How you were sure he was about to kiss you. The night he asked to be with you, that kiss was breathtaking. The sex, you were so eager to give yourself to him. It was easy to convince yourself that he felt something too.

But as time went on, you found out what real pain felt like. You tried to keep it concealed to not worry your friends or fans but you were suffering. He was pure evil and you fell head first into his trap. 

You steadily cut the carrot on the chopping board, being sure to go slow as you felt your heart wither. It hits you randomly, strong bursts of sorrow that send you toppling over like a flimsy house of cards. Reality hitting you coincided with taking the group chat down. Chaeyoung tweeted about it, even though that wasn’t part of the plan. You all were only supposed to tell the people involved so they could worry less. The tweet gained a lot of traction and news spread fast. You and Johnny were getting so much love. The groupchat and most of the pictures were gone, and your group was coming along swimmingly. All you could think about was how easily Taeyong toyed with your heart.

You stop and set the knife down for a moment to collect yourself. You inhale, surprised when your breath gets caught. You feel your eyes start to get misty and try to distract yourself. Johnny is right next to you preparing the meat. Neither of you have reached out to the other directly to help. It’s strange, because the other seems eager to do the helping. Johnny can be a bit sheepish about it, but he expresses his willingness to help in small ways.

Envisioning Johnny comforting you doesn’t sound bad at all. In fact, the two of you find ways to touch each other all the time. It’s electrifying, even when it’s his fingers brushing against your arm. You wouldn’t mind a hug right now. But it’s getting to that part that’s difficult for you.

“Takin’ a break?” He asks amusedly. You don’t mean to be cold but you’re in no mood to joke right now. You turn away from him slightly, knowing the tears are coming. Crying wasn’t going to help anything, and you’d look absolutely pathetic begging for a hug. How could he even stand being around you for so long?

He calls your name cautiously before setting aside the spice bottle in his hand. He inches closer to you and feels it. You cried a lot when you first found out Taeyong was cheating. Then it subsided. Then Taeyong looked straight into your eyes while he crushed your heart in his hands. You focused your energy on the plan and your group, but he could still hear you every night. Then it just stopped. 

But as he approached you, he could tell this was different. He got an inkling you were no longer mourning the relationship. You were starting to put the pieces together.

“If you need to go lay down, I’ll finish myself.” Johnny successfully catches a glimpse of your face. You looked disturbed by whatever was churning in your brain. Should he have told you what he realized way back when Jaehyun was here? Every time he considered it it felt like that night he ran to your house. You had a right to be defensive, and maybe telling you now would make you realize you still don’t forgive him.

It happens in an instant, your face was dry and then comes the flow of tears. “I’m sorry.” He was probably sick of hearing you cry, and now you were doing it in front of him. “I-I’m sorry I’ll go,” You replace your wavering voice with a sturdier one as you try to peel away.

Johnny grabs your shoulder gently and reaches for the other, turning you to face him. You guard your tear-soaked face. “It’s not a big deal, I know.” You say as if you know he’s thinking it. He shakes his head dumbfoundedly.

“It is a huge deal. I’m just sorry you had to find out this way.” It’s hard for him to focus as he watches you cry. He’s consoled you probably a hundred times. Even if he hasn’t done it in a while, he has a starting point. The only caveat is that once he does this, he knows it’ll only be harder to leave. As he brushes your tears away with the back of his hand you feel that electricity again, and you convince yourself that maybe it’s just because it’s been a while. You unguard your face, letting him see your desolation in all its glory. You feel yourself unwittingly tensing up as if you were preparing for something bad, but as you bathe in his doting gaze you realize something. You don’t feel small or insignificant at all.

Then he takes your hand and guides you to the couch. He sits in the middle and pulls you to sit in between his knees. As soon as you’re settled there your heart is set alight when you realize. That’s not even half of the emotion Johnny is feeling as massages his fingers into your scalp. Just like when you were kids, your neck goes limp and you rest it on his right thigh. A lengthy sigh leaks from your lips as your body starts to untense. Johnny’s heart is filled beyond capacity as he watches serenity wash over your features. It feels like it could burst.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You ask, voice still feeble. You remember vividly how hurt you felt when Johnny spoke to Taeyong. You already said how much you don’t want to be around her. You’ve never felt so undesirable in your life. Those words had a hand in tainting your memories of Taeyong. Johnny doesn’t doubt for a second you’re talking about Taeyong. It’s loaded in your eyes every time you’ve looked at him since. That unspoken acknowledgement.

“At first I held off because I didn’t want it to be like that night we all came over. When YangYang first tried to take advantage of you. I’ll be honest, I was worried about you, but deep inside I knew it was just a ploy to see you again.” Johnny starts carefully and ends regretfully. “I was being selfish and ignoring your wishes.” He slows down his massaging, moving his hand in wide circles.

“I started having suspicions he was using us from the beginning.” You pull your head back up straight, and a small part of him is glad he can’t see your face. He just focuses on your scalp. “I think… I think he used us to strengthen his altruistic image. Bullies strike fear into people for respect, he was just trying a different approach to gain even more respect.”

He sits with your silence, letting you soak in the information as he continues to soothe you. When you finally speak it makes him stop completely.

“Did he… I mean he had to. He thought I was unbearable the entire time.” Your mind tortures you with flashes of what you probably looked like all this time. The fat, mouth-breathing, hard to look at nuisance that kept following him around. The sole reason he got tired of keeping up with his act. He just couldn’t stand you that much. And could you blame him?

Who cares what he thinks? Is what nips at the back of his brain but he shoos it away. Johnny did at one point. Being in that group chat made him realize the true nature of all the people whose opinions he valued more than his self respect and best friend. They were ten times more embarrassing than the people they looked down on.

“I know how bad it feels when people successfully weaponize their valued opinions against you. It feels like no matter what you do, you’re gonna be seen as wrong. It makes you feel powerless but that is an illusion.” The way Johnny emphasizes his words reads as him finding credence in these words himself. “You have the power to control your circumstance by shattering this illusion. The women you follow on social media have either figured this out or are getting there.”

“I understand that.” Your spine was starting to hurt from not relaxing against him but you just couldn’t get yourself to. “I just don’t understand how.” How to get there or how people can be so confident. How could anyone know for sure if they have power?

“Me neither. I still don’t, at all.” Johnny gulps, heart stilling for a moment. “But what I did understand was that I loved you. Love you.” You grow even stiffer, rigid from the intensity of his words. Of course he loves you, why does this feel so… real? “And that’s all it took.”

Johnny starts massaging a little faster, a tinge of awkwardness setting in after he second-guesses his decision. Then you rest your head on his bare knee and his face goes hot again. “B-but um… yeah I just wanted- you should pursue what’s important to you. Dwelling over the complexities can just send you in circles.”

Suddenly the fact that you were touching each other, kind of a lot, was very apparent to Johnny. His nightmares have effectively killed his arousal. And any time he imagines you in your bed he can’t stop thinking of your blank stare and worrying question. Johnny sighs, the heat draining from his cheeks once he’s brought back to reality. He needs to start planning to move out of your house and back into his. 

“It was nice living with you.”

“You too.” You speak in a hushed voice, the finality of it all makes your stomach drop. Living with Johnny as adults was a fantasy you conjured up as kids. It was time to be serious.

“Johnny?”

“Hm?”

“I want to help you.” 

-

Gravel crunches under the wheels of Johnny’s car as he pulls into his house. The pace is sluggish, and even when he parks he doesn’t take his hand off the wheel. You’re not ecstatic about going back in there either. This time you were alone to grapple with any strong emotions this causes for the both of you.

You’ve made it clear to Johnny that you’re here if he needs you but he has yet to accept that invitation. Even offering to help clean was a bit of a struggle. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t sting. You guys were chatting more casually now, and when you look at him you don’t see the asshole who tormented you in this house. You see the goofball with too many damned dad jokes. You see a sweet and supportive friend. You see a scared boy calling out for help. 

“Are you okay Johnny?” You speak softly as your eyes fall to his hand clenched around the steering wheel.

“Why wouldn’t I be? We’re just cleaning a house.” He unlocks his jaw to mumble. It hurt to admit, but this defensive side of him felt like the last remnants of the Johnny that wounded you. You felt yourself subconsciously walking on eggshells when he got like this and it slightly angered you. All this progress and he was carelessly waving it off. 

“Is it because of what happened after we took you home from the bar?”

Johnny’s head snapping toward you startles you a bit. “What’s “it”?” he asks incredulously.

“Why you’re acting like this. One minute you’re sweet and doting and the next you’re cold and dry. It only happens when I offer to help you with something.” You defend, tone insisting your question is in good faith. 

“I-” He starts, pausing with a grumble once he notices his carelessness. “I know you said you do this because you’re a good friend, but I can’t help but feel like you’re coddling me.”

“Here you go again, Johnny. It’s not coddling you, you’re not less of a man for getting a little help!” You’re directing your bitterness at the existence of this argument at him, you can’t help it.

“Does Jisoo come over and clean your house for you?” He argues back.

“But you did. Is it okay to baby me but not the other way around? We’re both adults.”

“I was repaying you for letting me stay at your house.” Johnny tries to sanitize his tone and de-escalate things before things get out of hand. If he were to let go of the steering wheel his hands would be trembling.

“I’m here because this is about more than cleaning and you know that.” You reel yourself back immediately. You were unsure if this would help in the long run, you were getting things off both your chests. And you did ask him to be honest with you. It feels like more of a curse than a blessing, there was nothing cathartic about this. The two of you barely bickered as kids. The biggest fight you had back then was about a particularly low blow he delivered while you were following Hyuna around. You didn’t talk to each other for a few days, driving you even further into delusion. Things finally resolved after whatever happened with Hyojong. He never told you, but he approached you the next day on his knees.

“I hate myself for hurting you.”

The guilt was probably tearing him apart. You sigh, though the distance between the two of you is broad right now, you know what you need to do. You pop the door open and step out before peering your head into the car. “I’m gonna go inside, you better come in and stop me before I clean your entire house for you.” You shove the door shut.

Johnny watches as you enter his house, flinching at the smell but still closing yourself inside. There’s no way you could stand that smell for very long. You’d probably end up tossing your lunch, but he believes you’d stick it out. Stubbornness was another trait you re-developed, not that it doesn’t warm his heart. He leaves the car, slowly trudging to his front door. He dwelled on every pebble he felt beneath his soles. Fixing his car window put a hole in his pocket, and his poor broken air conditioner was a problem. Not to mention the flowers he spent months caring for. He wraps his hand around the doorknob.

All of those seemed like child’s play compared to the rot. Rotting food so far gone it was a pile of black goop with dozens of insects ravaging it. He opens the door to his empty house. You were elsewhere, he could hear you rustling through a cabinet in the distance. He walks straight to the corner of his living room where the main source of the stench was. That pile of black goo that he found himself staring at while his friends sat around, stewing in the foul atmosphere. Laughing, playing video games, trading nudes without consent. Johnny kneels down, the odor strong in his nostrils. You plod down the stairs with a bucket of soapy water clutched in your gloved hands and a mask. 

With watery eyes you watch Johnny stare at the rotten food infested by pests. You approach him and kneel beside him despite the smell. You wish he would tell you what Hyojong did that day. For now, you push the bucket his way and hand him the sponge. He lingers on the sludge as a pool of tears perch on his bottom lid. He lets the tears drop as he glances over, taking the sponge.

You work on different sides of the house, cleansing it of its neglect. Spraying and scrubbing the couch where he and his friends sunk into for hours on end, tidying up the cords and controllers for his console, and cleaning that horrifying fridge. When it was all done, you focused on getting rid of the lingering smell, spraying air freshener and opening every window. Hopefully the bugs will leave with it. You plop down on a bar stool admiring that you managed to kind of return the favor. You notice Johnny hasn’t sat down, and he’s staring at a different spot now. You follow his eye line to the wall. The toothpick did more of a number on your toe, but there was a small dent, and on the floor were splotches of dried blood.

You look back up at him worriedly. That was the moment everything fell apart. You were no longer hurting each other, but also no longer in each other’s lives. Reflecting on living with him, you couldn’t imagine going back to that again. Neither could Johnny, but it’s what needed to happen. All this pain and sorrow for some popularity? For some lousy friends? Even after all he’s put you through, you’re here and they’re nowhere to be found.

“I’m sorry.” You can tell by the look in his eyes that he’s about to break down and you rush over to him. “I’m so sorry.” He sobs. You pull him into a hug, the first hug you’ve given him in years. He eagerly hugs you back, his large body encompassing you, squeezing you. You squeeze him back, both of you hiccuping and sniffling into each other’s ears. “I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

“I forgive you.” You pull away to caress his face, surveying it as you wipe his tears away. You shake your head as your cheeks fill with streaks of tears. “It’s okay, I forgive you.”

“I don’t believe you.” Johnny responds despondently. You clench your eyes shut. For a while, you didn’t believe yourself either, constantly doubting yourself as he remained within your walls. Maybe you didn't forgive him at first. What he did was inexcusable, but seeing how much pain he’s in helps you understand.

“It was a defense mechanism, but you’re okay now.” You press your forehead against his and both of you shut your eyes now. “You’re safe.” You pet his hair until his breathing calms and his arms stop trembling.

-

Chaeyoung raises her glass in the air with a smug grin, preparing what she was gonna dedicate her toast to. “To girls’ night!” She shouts assuredly. Mark nervously raises his glass. “To… to girls’ night?”

“To girls’ night!” Jungwoo announces proudly. You, Naeun, Jisoo, and Johnny all raise your glasses and call out the dedication before drinks are clinked together. The night has barely started when you spot Chaeyoung making a move on a flustered but embarrassingly keen Mark. Johnny and Naeun are sitting at the bar talking, and you’re against the wall with Jisoo and Jungwoo.

“Why do we come to parties and clubs when we know it’s not our scene?” Jisoo inquires to herself. Jungwoo still replies. “Hey, introverts like to get drunk or laid sometimes too.”

“That is true…” You remark with a pointed look at Jungwoo. He rolls his eyes while Jisoo grimaces. “Gross.” She groans.

“No but seriously, I wanna go back to normal again.” You whine.

“I just think you need a little more time,” Jungwoo starts, hinting at your break up, “plus, I’m not comfortable with fucking while Johnny is in the other room.”

“I’m going to the bathroom.” Jisoo drones as she peels away. You wait until she’s out of earshot to continue. You really didn’t need two bouts of pity right now. 

“That’s okay because he’s leaving soon.” You swirl your drink, looking at the vortex of liquid instead of Jungwoo’s face.

“Oh. His house is fine now?” He sounds a bit awkward, knowing this is a touchy subject.

“Yup.” You pop the ‘p’, trying to play off the way your mood is being dragged to the depths of hell right now. “Well then… things will really be back to normal, right?” Jungwoo tries, hoping he didn’t accidentally step on a landmine.

You’ll go back to having sex with Jungwoo while he’s in a loving, perfect relationship. Mark seems to be hitting it off with Chaeyoung, which is interesting, but he’s back to his bubbly self, now packaged with a potentially awesome girlfriend. And Johnny is laughing with Naeun while she hits his arm. Johnny is preoccupied and soon to be moving out, and with how he’s been speaking to you recently, possibly out of your life.

“Right. Back to normal.”

-

Mark and Chaeyoung barely made it out of the door with how rigorously they were making out, but they made it to the back of a taxi and were probably screwing each other’s brains out by now. Jisoo and Jungwoo left early after Jisoo got drunk as fast as she usually does, all cute and limp as Jungwoo carried her away on his back. That leaves you alone, standing against the wall as you watch Johnny and Naeun. They were barely drinking, caught up in whatever riveting conversation they were having. 

You should stop being weird and go over there, join the conversation, but it feels wrong. They looked right. When Naeun leans in, you can’t help the despair that rackets through you. Her lips pressing to his made you tear your eyes away. You felt like your heart would break to pieces if you watched any longer. You stumble to the nearest restroom and splash water on your face. 

You should be happy. Johnny got a beautiful woman he deserved without tearing anyone down in the process. If you’re not, it’s probably because of how sad and lonely you are. Soon Jungwoo will be back and this will get better. The kiss replays against your will and you experience a second round of that horrible feeling that nearly sends you to your knees. You’re still getting over Taeyong, that has to be it. 

The door opens and shuts softly behind you, and you look at him through the mirror. He finally cut his hair and shaved his facial hair. He looks down at you with those dreamy eyes and smirks. 

“Did you get a little confused?”

You flick the remaining water off your hands and turn to embrace him. He mumbles a soft ‘oh’ before hugging you back. “Or is it that you’re drunk?” You haven’t had more than a sip, but you don’t answer him, instead hugging him tighter.

“Come on, let’s get you home.”

You continue to let him believe you’re drunk. You might as well be, with how delusional you’re being. Whatever the mysterious cause may be. He loads you in the passenger seat of his car and shuts the door. Naeun is trailing behind, their conversation is muffled by the door. 

“One more time before we call it quits?” Naeun suggests. Johnny shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. Naeun was objectively breathtaking. Especially tonight with that dress and her hair perfectly styled. However, Johnny couldn’t change the facts. No matter how many times he laid in her bed or kissed her or had sex with her, he couldn’t force himself to be attracted to her. That would be easier right now, but his heart lies elsewhere. “Can’t. I’m sorry.”

He wants to tack on a ‘maybe next time’, but he holds off, perhaps with false hope. Either way, he’s driving away from the club without even dancing or getting drunk. He can’t be too upset, though. He peers over at you, you’re calmly looking out of the windshield. 

“You’re not actually drunk, are you?’

“How could you tell.” You murmur.

“You’re not talking my head off.” You both chuckle softly. 

“Johnny.”

“Hm?”

You purse your lips as you keep your gaze straight ahead. “Wanna have sex with me?”

Johnny stomps on the brake so hard it throws both of you forward. The car behind you spams their horn before driving around you while shouting obscenities. Johnny’s shoulders are up by his ears and your arms are spread out to brace yourself.

“Are you sure you’re not drunk?” Johnny asks after clearing his throat.

“We’re both adults, it doesn’t have to be a big thing.” You shrug. “We’re best friends!” He shouts back.

“Please.” You cringe after you say it but it’s already done. The silence is killing you so you shut your eyes. 

Johnny drives on, unable to untense his arms. He thought he was over getting turned on by you, but maybe his nightmares didn’t kill his sexual attraction to you completely. He can feel heat starting to pool down there. You weren’t drunk and you were asking him. In theory he should be jumping at the opportunity, but he lets out a long exhale instead.

“I can’t do that.”

You laugh bitterly, tilting your head to look out your door window. “A man refusing sex is as clear a sign as I’ve ever seen.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Johnny asks in genuine confusion. 

“It makes sense that you’re dating Naeun.”

“Dating?” He takes a short moment to gawk at you before returning his eyes to the road. “Naeun and I aren’t dating. It’s like you said, we’re both adults. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“Really?” You genuinely thought they were, you expected it to happen sooner or later. “She seems like your type.”

“Her?” He asks incredulously. “I’d be crazy to shoot that high.”

“I dunno, you’re handsome, tall, and you have the capacity to be sweet. You know, when you aren’t roasting me.” Johnny scoffs at your joke. 

“Whatever.” Johnny winds down, suddenly remembering what you had just asked him. And that you just complimented him. “I’m a loser, though. I only preached about my high standards as an excuse to why I was single.” Guess it was time to start unveiling the true reasons behind his previous shitty actions. He presses his cool fingers to his cheeks.

“So you don’t like girls like Naeun and Nayeon?” You ask, as if a ‘yes I do’ won’t send you spiraling. 

“I mean, it’s what people tell you to like. It feels like you’re supposed to.” Johnny ponders. “But if I actually think about it, their looks don’t affect me at all. It’s kind of… empty?”

You felt relieved, and then ashamed of that relief. 

“Maybe you should think about that as well.” Johnny’s words make you look at him in confusion. “Every time you dress up you say something about if Naeun would wear it or think it’s weird.”

You take a moment to think about what he’s saying, jaw dropping open once you realize. You never noticed that you did that. Even today, every time she looked at you, you doubted your outfit choice. You straighten up in your seat and make an official goal post. You were going to wear a flashy outfit to TwitchCon. One that catered solely to your interests.

-

Chaekyung answers the door pretty fast. “Come in.” She urges. It was nice that she reached out to you this time. She seemed frantic over the phone and her actions now indicate that very little has changed on your ride over. Anything is better than before. You completely understand why she would be standoffish, though. Being ambushed with no one coming to your aid is a level of stress you unfortunately understand. Right now you’re effectively Taeyong, and if you’d treated him with the same caution she’s using, perhaps you’d be in a better place.

As you step into her living room you spot another figure on the couch. He has a short haircut, much shorter than the other men in your life. When he turns around you realize it’s someone you actually do know. YangYang. 

He smiles nervously, standing up from the couch and approaching you, you take a step backward but he doesn’t get the memo. He pulls you into a hug. “Hey! It’s been a while.” Your arms strain under his tight grip, hands clenching into fists. You toss a questioning look at Chaekyung, giving her the benefit of the doubt. She ducks away from your stare, clearly harboring a guilty conscience.

“He wanted to talk to you.” She blurts out, still avoiding your eyes.

“That’s true.” He finally pulls away and you instantly put distance between the two of you. “What do you want?” You blink, disoriented from how sudden this all was.

“You’re the talk of the town recently! I mean you’re in the Dreamies and have your own popular group. Not to mention how everyone loves you, and I hear you’ve got Taeyong on a leash-” You cut him off, understanding perfectly now, “You want me to boost your image.”

“I mean, it could be more of an ‘I scratch your back you scratch mine’ type of thing, but essentially yes.” YangYang’s attempt at a cordial tone is nauseating at best and tonedeaf at worst. He was so close to putting you in that group chat. 

“Absolutely not-”

“You already threw Lucas under the bus but I’ve still got a chance. Unless you’re planning to do that for me too, which I don’t think is entirely logical.” YangYang looks up at Chaekyung who starts vigorously nodding her head. “You saw what happened to Chaekyung here,”

He only lets you think for a short moment before he speaks again. “For you to suddenly ice me out after knowing you for so long… I mean, you did the same thing to Johnny but you clearly regret it.”

“I don’t regret it.” You respond immediately. “He needed to understand how much he hurt me, and he does now. What’s clear is that you still don’t.” You wonder if he still sees the situation as innocent fun you ruined with your bitching.

YangYang recovers quickly from your jab, most likely not absorbing it at all. “Is proving your point worth potentially ruining the reputation you worked so hard for?”

You were bigger than Chaekyung, but she was always seen as a darling on the platform. Minded her own business and was championed as the ideal girlfriend. And just like that, her social media is a ghost town overrun by gun wielding thieves itching to deliver that final blow to do her in for good. Still. 

Maybe with your increased size it won’t happen to that extent, but even half of what she received was a bit stressful to imagine. Instead of one Lucas, YangYang, Doyoung, and the old Johnny, there’d be hundreds. With your scope, probably thousands. You do want to help Chaekyung, seeing her so helpless feels horrible, but a part of you did reach out to prove to yourself you could handle situations like this. That they could be fixed. Inviting her into the group would offer her new support. Or it could introduced a fuck ton of hate to everyone involved.

“Just think about it and get back to me. Here’s my number.” YangYang hands you a sliver of paper and you peer leerily at it. Just take it and get it over with. Don’t cause any trouble, you told yourself. But your stomach churned, screaming at you not to do it. Because you didn’t want to. If Johnny were here, he’d just tell you to act on that, but you were stricken with the anxiety of the outcome. Your eyes slowly pan back up to YangYang’s face. As he smirks at you, you remember Chaeyoung’s words. Imagine him making that same smirk as he snapped pictures of her and spread it around behind her back.

“No.” You state and shake your head, giving him a stern look before walking away. He and Chaekyung yell after you, just like the time you stormed out of Johnny’s house. Back then you felt so weak and small, shrinking with each step. Here, you felt much, much stronger. A smile even had the gall to stretch onto your lips as you pushed Chaekyung’s door open.

As soon as the door shut, the feeling that you made a mistake picked at you. 

Should I have done that? 

Did I just ruin everything? 

Why did I do that?

But what were you gonna do, turn back? Apologize? Moreover, why are you glossing over how hilarious that was? The look on YangYang’s face when you rejected his offer. No, his pressure. Who did he think he was? He was so confident you’d just concede. If anyone should be the one reconsidering their actions, it’s him. You laugh heartily, definitely looking insane as you make your way to the bus stop.

You did it because you wanted to. And oh, how you’ve wanted to do that. Embarrass them like they embarrassed you, make them feel stupid. 

When you get back, you feel immediately inspired to try out some looks. Johnny sits on the bed as you hold different outfits in front of your body.

“Hm, I like that skirt.” Johnny comments before making a contemplative hum. “Not the shirt?”

“No, maybe something different.” You rummage through your closet, you’d be hard pressed to find another red shirt that matched this. You pull out a long sleeved one with an apprehensive noise. “This is the only other shirt I have that matches.”

“Put 'em together.” He encourages before spreading his feet farther apart and leaning forward. You wince as you hold it to your torso. The droopy sleeves and the way it tied in the front seemed a bit much, but with the skirt and shirt together it gave a bit of a 70’s vibe. You gasp and rummage through your closet again until you find a pair of gogo boots. “Turn around!” You say excitedly, ripping your clothes off before he can even fully turn away. You admire the outfit in the mirror for a second before Johnny asks if he can turn back around.

“Okay, turn back around.” You twist your hips and lift your shoes as you fully examine the combination. “I… think you’re a visionary.” He comments dreamily.

High off of Johnny’s praise you invite him with you to the grocery store, already starting your exit before he even answers. “Just one moment. Stay just like that.” You turn halfway, startled when you hear a click. “Did you just take a picture?”

Johnny lowers his phone to give a sheepish smile before he nods. “What’re you gonna do with it?”

This time Johnny just shrugs, not having a believable excuse available. You give him a leery look before refocusing on your current objective.

-

“Round two.” You whisper as you walk hand in hand through the gliding doors. The doubt surfaces as soon as you’re in the presence of other people, any of them could peer at you and cast judgment at any moment. Johnny senses you faltering and squeezes your hand. It’s enough to ground you and keep you pushing. Eggs and milk. You need eggs and milk.

For the most part, it’s fine. Yes, people’s eyes are lingering on you, even turning their head to maintain their stare. But it could be worse. That thought eases your fears a bit. If this is it, people just giving you weird looks, you don’t know what you were so afraid of. You must’ve expected them to gather in a crowd and boo you out of the store.

Maybe gogo boots with a slightly 70’s inspired outfit was a bit out of the norm for grocery shopping, but you felt in your element. It felt like you were finally truly you. Walking through each aisle sparks an idea in your mind. It was definitely out of your comfort zone for now, but you can picture a good photo with the store as the backdrop.

As you reach the dairy section you hear giggling. You and Johnny both look in that direction, seeing a group of teenagers near the middle of the aisle. The two girls seem focused on their phones while the two boys are deciding on yogurt. They’re not looking at you, you tell yourself, but you still let go of Johnny’s hand to tug your skirt lower.

More of them start laughing and in your newly jittery state you glance over again. Now all of them are looking at one of the girls’ phone. This scene is all too familiar to you, like watching a nightmare unfold in real life. You’re about to convince yourself they’re laughing at a video or something, it’s not you, when they all look up from the phone at you. Smiles wide and mocking, contorting from your mind playing games. You tug at your skirt again and try to conceal as much skin as you can with the fabric at your disposal. You curse yourself for not bringing a jacket. There’s nothing you can do. You are exposed to their scrutiny whether you like it or not.

You make plans to hide behind Johnny or maybe just leave entirely. The hair was too much, you should’ve known that. Another notification buzzes in your purse like it has all day, making you scowl even further. You should’ve turned them off when you had the chance. Then another notification followed by another has you whipping your phone out to silence the disturbance. Your phone starts to go crazy, and you suspect another Tumblr picture has blown up. But looking at the screen you see they’re coming from Instagram of all places. You stopped posting frequently years ago so your notifications had slowed to almost a complete stop.

Opening the app you see that you’ve received a ton of new followers. Did someone shout out your Instagram not knowing it’s a wasteland? The first comment you see is a strange one.

‘you should post more pictures like the one Johnny posted!’

Other comments pouring in seem to all be mentioning him and some picture. You go to his profile and instantly spot the picture he took at your house. You blanch at the discovery, checking the comments against your better judgment. The constricting sensation on your heart ceases when your eyes scroll over each comment. You feel Johnny’s hand on your shoulder and tear your eyes away from the phone.

He was worried for a moment, but is content with the touched expression you have now. “You okay?” His smile fades just a little as his worry picks back up again. Instagram tells you he did this just now. Despite him not taking credit for your phone buzzing up a storm you can tell he’s satisfied. 

The teenagers are still there in your peripheral, their dark clothes like an intrusive stain on your vision. Are you okay? Physically you’re perfectly fine, though your brain would like to convince you their eyes are setting your skin ablaze. Emotionally… you feel vulnerable. You glance over, meeting the eyes of one of the snickering teens. The effort to downplay your emotions is nonexistent. The voice in your brain speaks barely above a whisper because the truth is that it hurts. This sucks. You don’t like what they’re doing and it makes you feel bad.

“No,” You finally reply, peeking back at the comments again. 

“Do you wanna go back home?” He asks, voice suddenly quiet to ensure they don't hear. 

“No. I want…” A moment passes as you conduct your thoughts. “I– h-here.” You open your photo app and slip the phone in his hands before pushing him to the other end of the aisle. You walk backward until there’s enough space for a cart to push through. Johnny breaks from his confusion once he figures out what’s happening. He raises the phone eye level as you start posing. It’s awkward as all hell, and they’re really laughing now. You’re all over the place emotionally. Your mind is going a mile a minute with regretful thoughts and pleas to get out of here. But you’re not hurt, you’re not in pain, and you’re definitely not hurting anyone. 

“Switch poses.” Johnny’s arms drop down for just a moment so you get a glimpse of his proud smile. You loosen up a bit, trying out a pose that requires a bit more confidence. With one more click, Johnny finishes taking photos and the teens have ventured elsewhere. You release a deep exhale at the sight of their absence. It feels like you had just sailed through turbulent seas during a thunderstorm, but you were fine. You did what you wanted to do and you weren’t struck down by some higher power monitoring any behavior outside the norm.

Johnny crosses over to your side to show you the pictures. “They look cool.” He comments as he swipes to the last one. The one where you were most confident, where your smile was at its most radiant. His heart skipping a beat sends a ripple through his body. “Can you send these to me?” He tries, a tiny bit anxious about if you’ll think his request is odd.

“To post?” You sheepishly look up at him and he glances away. “No, you just look really nice here.”

It was your heart’s turn to send your entire body into panic. For a moment you feared something was wrong but after it passed, you were left befuddled. The thought of someone keeping a photo of you, not because they’re in it or for some other practical reason, because you just look really nice has you suddenly smiling like an idiot.

“I’d love to.”

-

Was this too much? You groan and toss yet another outfit to the wayside. As you ogle all the clothing items laid out all over your bed and floor, a new question crosses your mind. Was this too little? It’s subjective, you’re aware, but this outfit has to push you out of your comfort zone for this to be a true test. You can claim you no longer care about what people think all day, but if you can’t wear a truly phenomenal outfit to this sausage fest, that will reveal the truth.

You didn’t invite Johnny to help because you need to be able to gather courage on your own. That one thought chained him to your mind as you continued your search. Oh Johnny, you thought as you reminisce on what he did. You stare at the beret in your hand, but you’re not staring at it at all. You’re looking past it as you imagine his little pleased smile. Or how proud he looked watching you pose. No, you just look really nice here.

Your eyes flutter closed, memories of him filling your stomach with such a pleasant sensation that you get lost in it. You eventually snap out of it, but during the entire process you think of different things he’s said and done.

Glancing in your closet, your Prada loafers stick out just a little from behind the door, as if to tempt you closer. You answer their call, sinking your feet into them and it feels like heaven. It almost justified the price. The rest of the outfit comes natural as pictures you’ve seen a ton of times on the internet flash behind your eyelids. This was definitely going to turn heads, you grimace slightly as you look in the mirror. You quickly note that the discomfort wasn’t from the gingham jacket or the beret. Definitely not the loafers. No, you felt great in this outfit.

Johnny felt like he was supposed to find Naeun pretty, but he keeps pictures of you in his phone. Your heartrate kicks up, generating a strange feeling so strong you’re rendered motionless.

-

“Oh, so when Johnny says it you believe him.” You shush Jungwoo, even placing your hands over his mouth to silence him but he just pulls them away and keeps talking. “What did I tell you? I was poetic as shit too.”

“Shut up!” You push him backward on the bed, grunting when he welcomes the change in position. “We’re literally naked and you’re running your mouth.” You swing your hips forward, shivering when your mound brushes against his member. 

Instead of fucking you, like he should be doing, Jungwoo just looks at you like he’s suspicious of something. “What?!”

“Did you fuck him?”

You gasp and gear up to hit him but he’s already blocking your attempts. He’s speaking entirely too loud about someone who’s right in the living room. “I did not!”

“Good! Because I still don’t fully forgive him.” He grasps your wrists to stop your flimsy attacks, expression just a little more serious now. 

“I know, Jisoo said the same thing.” You lament, not wanting to have this conversation. He doesn’t even know about the weird feelings you have when you think about Johnny.

The door opening startles both of you and you scramble to get up. Jungwoo wraps the comforter around you defensively and you would roll your eyes if Johnny wasn’t standing at your door. He looked frazzled which shooed all playfulness from your body.

“I-I’m sorry for barging in, but I think Taeyong did something. All my socials are blowing up with outrage.”

“What?” You scurry off the bed to hurriedly clothe yourself, rushing to Johnny as you bounce into your pants. “How do you know it was him?”

“It’s similar to what happened to Lucas. He threatened him and then all these random people started making allegations.”

You slip the phone from his hands and examine the screen. You and Johnny were both trending in your country. You click Johnny’s name and see exactly what he’s talking about. Anonymous accounts, other than one account from Nayeon, claiming Johnny is an asshole behind the scenes. Those weren’t damning by themselves, the news that he helped take down the group chat would defend him against that. It was the clips people found that did him in.

They were from back when he was still trying to impress the wrong people. Most of them depict him throwing jabs your way, insulting everything from your voice to your appearance. One of the clips play out loud before you could stop it.

“Do I like ___? Don’t be stupid.” Johnny snickers as the chat fills with amusement, egging him on. You wince, but it’s not like it’s anything you haven’t heard before. Still, after enduring what was essentially a prolonged rejection, that clip put everything in perspective. Seeing the clip affecting you, Johnny carefully takes the phone back. 

“I just wanted to warn you so you could check your own name, make sure he didn’t get you too. Whenever you were prepared.”

To look through a bunch of hate or to grapple with you suddenly worrying if Johnny will reject you, whatever that means. You pull out your phone and check your name this time. You go still, mouth parting in shock. Just like your Tumblr, just like the comments under Johnny’s picture of you, all you see is overwhelming support. And pity, but more importantly, hatred for Johnny. The three stooges even caught fire with their clips resurfacing too. Even Taeyong for being caught laughing in some of them. But Johnny is public enemy number one.

He did say these things, and if it were aimed at anyone else you’d be calling for accountability, but you can’t help feeling bad. You lower your phone, hesitating before finally looking at Johnny. He looks worried, but you can tell it’s directed at you. 

“Is everything okay?” He steps forward, placing his hands on your arms. “Yeah, did he get you too?” Jungwoo asks, who’s been silently attentive this entire time. You just shake your head. It didn’t make any sense. What, did he think you suffered enough, or was he harming you through Johnny?

“We can do something to help you. Come up with a plan. I’m sure Chaeyoung and Naeun will put in a good word for you.” Your eyes widen as a lightbulb turns on. “Naeun still hasn’t said anything about the situation. Maybe she-”

Johnny shakes his head, moving his hands to your shoulders as your voice dies away. He’s quiet for long enough that your adrenaline is winding back down and letting your worry peek through. “No, we can’t do that.” He knows very well Naeun wants nothing to do with any of this. It was about time for him to bite the bullet.

“Then what should we do?” You’re stumped, you don’t know what his next move will be. It will be extremely hard to come back from this. You’d be surprised if he wasn’t chased off the internet entirely.

He notes your tentativeness, so he opts to be vague and just ease you for now. “I have a plan.” He offers carefully.

“Well, okay. What is it?” You’re suddenly hopeful, and realizing his method wasn’t working, he sighs disappointedly. If he tells you, you’re gonna talk him out of it and stress for the rest of the night.

“I have to do it on my own.” Your hopefulness fades but you ultimately accept this answer, nodding and letting Johnny leave with no further explanation. You tried wrangling the unease in your gut but it kept festering. He was trying to avoid alarming you, you could see it from a mile away. That night you wanted to turn to him and ask what he was hiding. You ended up drifting to sleep and waking up to him not being there.

For a small, delusional moment you wondered if he had packed up and left while you were sleeping. You push your legs off the bed and stare down at the mattress. Drifting off into space, you let your phone ring one, two, three, four times before breaking free and picking it up.

“Hello.”

Jisoo says your name with concern heavy in her voice. “What’s wrong?”

“Johnny posted a statement. He came clean.”

Your heart constricts, you freeze completely in trepidation. You lower your phone to check Johnny’s account. You felt like you were going through each stage of grief with each swipe and tap. “Johnny… what did you do?” 

Pinned to his account is a link with a short message attached. 

‘This is long overdue’

You inhale sharply, apprehensive of what you’re about to see. He starts the message acknowledging all the criticism he’s garnered since the day prior. He apologizes to all your fans from Taeyong’s group, the Dreamies, and your new group.

‘Those clips were not only distressing to ___, but to anyone who’s endured something similar, and I know how hard it must’ve been to hear those things I said. Unfortunately, that’s not even the full scope of what I’ve put ___ through.’

You cover your mouth with your hand as realization hits you like a brick wall. You skim through the statement with jittery eyes, unable to read through the entire thing. It was hard, knowing that each word was another nail in his coffin.

‘I destroyed her confidence, making it harder for her to express herself or meet new people. I was comfortable doing it knowing it would be hard for her to leave because we meant so much to each other. All she did was trust, love, and stick by me and I spat in her face. I did it all to gain internet points and respect from people who don’t deserve respect themselves, and in doing so I encouraged behavior that would go on to hurt and strike fear into so many women. Each bigoted remark I made influenced hatred that would negatively affect many lives.’

You clumsily find footing on the floor before starting your search for Johnny. Your eyes are still glued to the phone as your eyes retrace every word. This is what you wanted, right? After all those years of endless torment, it has been revealed to the world. Now you can finally heal. Your other hand joins in grasping the phone as you skim further

‘I want to apologize one more time to all her fans or any viewers that happen upon one of her streams. If it weren’t for me you’d be seeing her at her best. She’s still amazing, but I’m afraid that she’ll never truly return to how she once was. I want to apologize to all the victims who got their pictures spread by people I enabled. If I had just pushed back even a little bit, they wouldn’t have been so comfortable doing something so cruel. 

And lastly, I want to apologize to the person I hurt more than anyone else. I’m sorry, ___, for being the only one who could hurt you like I did and being just heartless enough to go through with it. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. Even when I was saying those vile things, your presence filled me with comfort and content. Just seeing you could dissuade anything bad I was feeling. And I took advantage of that while not doing right by you. I’m still doing it. So I’m gonna do right by everyone and end my streaming career here. It’s not fair to all of you that I took part in all this misfortune and even benefited and profited from it. I can’t be truly sorry for what I did without removing my ability to benefit from those I hurt.’

You pick your head up slowly until you’re making eye contact with Johnny. He smiles from the couch as if nothing’s wrong. You make your way, maintaining eye contact. He stands as you reach your desired proximity. You have so much to say to him. So much scolding to do and yet so much consoling as well. But as you open your mouth, no words are formed. No sentences constructed. Just a quiver of your lip, furrow of your brow, and an ache behind your eyes. 

You fight away tears for as long as you can but they win like they always do. Years of holding back your urge to break down completely and sob in agony have gotten the best of you. But now you have your best friend back. You finally have him back and you’re not ready to lose him. 

Noting your struggle to speak and incoming tears he engulfs you in a tight hug. You happily reciprocate, clenching the back of his shirt as you succumb to your tears. “I’m sorry, I knew that would make you upset.”

You whisper your forgiveness, not just for him posting that but for everything. The truth was that even though you didn’t forgive him immediately, you just wanted him around in spite of it all. While you’ll never forget what happened and how you got here, you know now that he has finally scrubbed the rot from his brain. He’s free to live with the acceptance of his wrongdoings, and you’ve never felt freer yourself.

“And don’t make a post defending me or anything.” He warns playfully. You nuzzle further into his chest. Despite him pretending there’s nothing wrong, there’s something hanging in the air you both want to address. “You’re not coming with me?” You ask in a wispy voice, tears staining his hoodie as he rocks you back and forth. You had been planning both your appearances at TwitchCon for so long. You missed the last one and this would be your first time going as a featured creator. Did he know the whole time that he wasn’t going?

Johnny sighs, drawing circles into your back. “I don’t think they’ll want me there anyway.”

You’re not sure if his statement would make everything worse or better. He admitted the bad things he’s done, but enough sincerity could make a community turn around. But he already quit and there was no guarantee the convention will be very welcoming to him. It would crush you to see people ridicule him in person. So you just hug him tighter.

TwitchCon wasn’t what was actually at the forefront of your mind. That was just meant to be the last thing the two of you did together before he moved out. Moving out was one thing, but he couldn’t be planning to distance himself after all of this, right? You pick your head up to look at him and he notices the fear in your eyes and puts the pieces together. 

“I’ll drop you off and pick you back up, okay?” He brushes your hair out of your face before cupping your cheek. That wasn’t what you were worried about. You could feel a stitch in your side. “Okay.”

-

He parks the car before letting the silence truly set over the two of you. You play with your tennis skirt, feeling hyper aware of every different texture against your skin and what parts of it were showing. 

“You’re gonna be great today. I’ll be watching your panel on my phone.” He grins proudly. You flash him a pitiful smile. God, how you wish he could actually be there. “Have fun.” He signals for you to leave, but that’ll be one more moment of interaction over. You weren’t sure how many you had left. You reach for his hand and he squeezes yours immediately. “What’s holding you up?”

You look at the time with dread. “Nothing.” You slowly pull on the handle and step out onto the concrete of the parking lot. The sound of your feet against the ground is the only thing piercing through your clouded mind.

“Hold on.” Johnny says, stumbling slightly as he steps out of his car. You whip around, hoping he’d changed his mind. You spot his phone in his hand and you scramble to get your purse over your head and on your shoulder. You get into a pose and he smiles again. Everything you do, it’s like you can feel his support, he doesn’t have to say a thing. Right after the camera is lowered, your anxiety peaks again. He approaches you with the screen facing your way, displaying one of the pictures he took. You look at the picture and then at him in confusion. He points at the picture.

“You see her? Because I see someone confident in what she’s wearing.” He smirks. 

“Well I see someone feigning confidence so the picture looks nice.” You correct with your own brand of pessimistic smugness.

“Every time I’ve taken a picture of you, your smile is the most genuine I’ve ever seen it.” He peers at the picture fondly before looking back up at you. “I feel like that confident girl is in there somewhere. She peeked out her head in the grocery store.” His frame curls over you until your faces are dangerously close. Something must’ve happened, something completely unheard of, because you get the urge to kiss him suddenly. The urge is strong and leaves your body humming and chest tightening. 

“I believe in you.” He pats your shoulder before squeezing it. He walks back to his car and you finally enter the building. Greeting fans and making your way through each room feels like a flurry of moments you never fully focus on. A hazy thought in the back of your mind makes you aware of Jaehyun’s absence, you numbly wonder if it’s because of the clips. You feel as though you're on the outside watching yourself as you venture through, meeting up with Chaeyoung and the rest of your group.

Chaeyoung leads all of you to some room secluded from the busyness of the convention. You’re surprised to see Naeun already sitting in one of the chairs. “Naeun? Hi! What’re you doing here?”

Her smile crinkles her eyes. “What, I can’t support my girls?” She argues, clutching something in her hands. She looks hesitant as she stands from her chair before revealing her creator pass. All the girls gasp. “Also, this.”

“Oh my god?” Chaeyoung walks up to her before hugging her. You and everyone else follows suit, surrounding her with your mass of bodies. 

“You’re streaming again?!” Dahyun asks excitedly. Naeun makes a strained noise before confirming. “I can’t believe it!” Jinsol muses.

“We’re happy you’re back.” You add before everyone peels back one by one with wide smiles. She smiles at everyone before her eyes land on you. She rubs your arm before giving a pointed look. “You ready?”

You want to say you’re not and curl into a tiny ball, but you wipe the thought from existence. You don’t let your pessimism fester and stretch a wide grin on your face. “Yep! I’m ready!”

If you thought the main section of the convention was busy, the panel room was beyond packed and loud. There was no room to think, just constant noise muffling your ears. You and your members stand just off stage and await for your name to be called. Taeyong’s new group goes before you, and you wonder if that was done purposely to drum up drama and spawn juicier questions. Their panel concludes and he and Nayeon don’t spare you a glance. He technically didn’t break your deal, but you still couldn’t contain your anger for him. It took everything in you not to chase after him and confront him.

“Next up we have a few members of the Dreamies and Pansies!” The room fills with rapturous applause and cheers, making your ears ring as you step on stage. You wince, squinting at the bright lights aimed at you. You sit at the third seat down, glancing over at Mark before flashing a brief smile as he sits next to you. Naeun sits on your other side and you prepare to start, just like you agreed. Your throat goes dry as soon as you open your mouth. You furrow your brows as you try to focus your thoughts. Of course, just like every time your brain goes wild, you think of Johnny and remember he’s watching.

“If high school me knew she’d grow up and still have to do public speaking again she would’ve been pissed.” You chuckle awkwardly and the room fills with light laughter. You clear your throat. “Okay. Hi, I’m ___. I’m a member of both the Pansies and the Dreamies. We didn’t expect Naeun to be joining us today-” The crowd erupts once again, their cheering and whistling bringing a soft yet thoughtful smile to Naeun’s face. You peer at her as you wait for the cheering to die down again. She looks at you too and you return her smile. “But I think it was fitting being that we’re chatting about unity on Twitch.”

Each person takes turns introducing themselves before the crowd applauds again. “So, I think it goes without saying that unity is really needed right now. The community feels as though it’s gone through a shift after relatively recent events. I’ve seen and experienced first hand how scary it can be to have no one offer support in a time of need. To get dogpiled and ridiculed with everyone turning a blind eye and letting it happen. Sometimes we can’t stop bad things from happening, but that doesn’t mean we should sit by and do nothing.”

You continue following a rough guideline of what you practiced, but the passion took control and made things easier. Different members of the panel added their two cents. You were ready to add one more thing when the host announced it was time for questions. The time flew right by, and here you thought you’d be stumped and the conversation wouldn’t flow. Everyone seems to be just as passionate. 

Various people raised their hands for a question. It started with questions for Chaeyoung, then Naeun who of course had nearly the entire room raising their hand. Then you, and to your surprise, there were just as many hands. You were just about to get excited when you realized it was probably because of Johnny’s controversy. You scan the room before pointing to someone near the middle. “You in the black turtleneck.” You purse your lips as they’re handed a microphone. He looks like he was already amused by his question. “Where did you come up with the name Panies?” He speaks, and an involuntary smile spreads across your face.

“There are like thirty different associations for each flower, but I don’t know, pansies have always meant a lot to me.”

“Some say they symbolize nostalgia or remembrance, but my favorite interpretation is that of love. It’s generic, but it’s not just romantic love. It can be platonic too, and I thought that was nice.”

Then it’s Mark’s turn. After him is Haechan, then Jeno. It circles around to you and restarts one more time. Before long it’s back to you, and you’re high off the pleasant and light atmosphere. Everyone seems to be having fun, and maybe you’re imagining it, but the audience seems to care for your cause as well. “You in the purple shirt and jean jacket.” You point. 

“The topic is unity, and you worked hard to get that group chat taken down,” applause interrupts her and you smile shyly. “But why have you been so silent about… everything. Literally everyone else has talked about it now except you and Naeun. Naeun was taking a break from social media, so that makes sense. But you…?” She waits for you to fill the blanks in a seemingly courteous move. Unfortunately, her trailing off only makes the uncomfortable silence that falls over the room more apparent. 

You had let the dilemma of your statement fall to the depths of your mind. People weren’t really talking to you about it or telling you to do it anymore. But even now you were still feeling hesitant. You peer out into the sea of people staring at you, awaiting your response so they could react or judge accordingly. Maybe you’ll be the first panel to be booed off stage. Only one way to find out.

“If she doesn’t want to speak about it, she doesn’t have to-”

“I was propositioned by YangYang twice.” You start, stopping Mark in his tracks. Everyone on the panel looks at you in shock. It’s dawning on you that Mark and Chaeyoung are the only people who know. Everyone else just thought your statement would be about condemning the people you used to hang out with all the time, or expressing generic sympathy. “I was lucky enough to have someone in my life to stop me from making a mistake. They recognized I wasn’t in a sound state, and YangYang wanted to take advantage of that. I know not many girls are coming out against any of the people involved, but I think it’s important to listen to the people that are.” The crowd is quiet and you can’t tell if it’s because they’re listening or because they’ve been put off. You think that if you stop for too long you’ll lose the confidence to continue, but you think harder. The crowd could pull out hidden tomatoes and start lobbing them at you but you’re not sure you’d stop.

“Listen, I just wanted to do something I found fun with people I cared about. I’m not here to nag you, but even the thought of my body being posted and spread around to people feels fucking horrible. Despite this, the thing I was most afraid of was the backlash I’d receive if I said anything. And I don’t think that’s right, no, it just isn’t right. I spoke to YangYang, and he was more at ease than I was. I’m sorry to all the victim’s who’s statements were deemed even a smidge less credible due to my silence, because there’s nothing I should be afraid of.”

The silence that overtakes the room is almost deadly, but you only notice the overwhelming relief you feel. You’ve been harboring these emotions under high security but now they’re finally free. In the midst of your euphoria, a few people start to clap until applause ripples across the entire room. There were no hoots or hollers, but a few people stood to amplify the feeling of silent respect. Mark stands up, pulling you up by your arm and using that same arm to tug you into a hug. After you pull away, Naeun is waiting for you. She gives you another hug, and it’s not very long until you’ve hugged everyone on the panel. 

It went exceedingly better than you thought it would. All that worrying seems silly now that your heart is filled to the brim with joy. It’s that type of joy that keeps you brimming for hours. The type of joy you want to share with somebody. Maybe you’re greedy, but even with all these things working in your favor, you’re still interested in something more. As you walk through the lengthy corridor, your happiness slowly fades to make way for a deep yearning. Something so carnal it shuts off your critical thinking.

The need grows as you approach Johnny’s car, realizing he stayed here the entire time. As you open the door and sit in the passenger seat you ignore his praise and questions. There was something ever present on your mind since he dropped you off that you needed to take care of before you could answer his puzzled calls of your name. You lean over the console and grab his face before mashing his lips against yours. You feel his face get hot and it’d be comical if your body wasn’t raising in temperature as well. The electricity was flowing stronger than it ever had, pricking at your skin and raising the hair on your arms. 

Johnny pulls away briefly to readjust and make for a less of a blur of lips. It’s not much better with how hungry the two of you are for each other. Especially for Johnny, who’s anticipation for this moment was years in the making. You feel your ears burn as you push your tongue past his lips to let them flip and curl against each other. Dangerously, arousal quickly takes root and it’s evident by the way your hands start to roam.

A hand slides between your breasts before curling around your throat. You gasp lightly, parting ways to unload a heated gaze onto each other. The heat slowly dissipates from both of you until you’re fully seated again. Johnny silently starts the car.

-

You barely make it through the door let alone get your shoes or jackets off. A trail of clothes is haphazardly left behind until Johnny is hoisting you onto your bed with your skirt not fully removed yet. He finishes the job before pushing you back until you sink into your comforter, looking up at him with lust soaked eyes. 

He isn’t completely sure if it was what you were silently requesting, but he makes the move anyway, wrapping his large hand around your throat again. Your lips part further and your eyes flutter shut. Never had he felt intoxication to the extent he felt now. He felt like he’d vibrate right off the bed. He captures your lips again as his other hand moves up to cup your right breast. He kneads it first, loosening his hand around your throat to hear the full extent of your noises. Even the breathy sighs and gasps you're making now fill his lungs with a blazing fire. 

He goes from kneading to squeezing to pinching, paying attention to what earns him the sweetest noise. He felt like a teenager again, when he’d lie stiff in bed imagining what you’d sound like when he touched certain places. A sharp inhale when he sucked at the right spot on your neck followed by a strong shudder. The first moan, albeit soft, when he flicked your nipple with his tongue. A long hiss when he nipped at it or blew cold air to make it fully perk up. He could spend all day learning what makes you tick until you’re screaming for the real thing. He thinks he just might, but he’s reminded of the unlikeliness of that with a throb of his cock. Johnny needs you, he needs you right now. But if he fucks you too soon he knows he’ll cum embarrassingly fast.

Johnny’s kisses make obscene wet noises as his lips travel down your torso. You whimper and hide your face against your shoulder. You never felt this sensitive with Jungwoo. A rush thrums up your legs when you realize where his mouth is going. It’s still wet and making noises even more obscene as he goes straight for tonguing your slit. Your lips aren’t even spread and he can still tell how wet you are. The thought thrills him so much it brings out an involuntary moan. He spreads you open with two fingers before flicking his tongue against your exposed clit. Your legs twitch and the crazed bastard unfortunately notices. He continues his efforts until your poor legs are twitchy messes and your stomach is whooshing from the raw friction.

His name on your lips is a broken, squeaky mess but it eggs him on nonetheless. A finger in your clenching hole forces a shattered cry out of you. You reach down in a blind search for his hair before tugging the strands between your fingers. Your own hips betray you, stuttering toward his face to bring about an even stronger sensation. Your squeaks build until they’re a string of loud, cut-off moans that make him hum into your cunt. You shudder again with a surprised giggle at how violent the feeling is. You feel like you’re shoved over the edge, hips bucking wildly against his face as you cum around his finger. One finger, you think with another disbelieving laugh.

He was experiencing his own high from making his over decade long crush cum like that. He kisses you with your essence still on his chin, smearing onto yours. You pull him back with both hands, a ravenous look in your eyes. 

“You better not fucking leave.” You mutter breathlessly. The thing keeping him from staying seemed to no longer be an issue. “You don’t even have to worry about that.”

You go to devour him again but he only accepts it for a few seconds before flipping you over. He hoists you on your hands and knees before positioning himself behind you. He slaps his rock hard cock against your clit and makes your knees buckle, but his other arm is still holding you in place. “I don’t have a condom.”

“I don’t either.” You reply impatiently. Explaining that you and Jungwoo used them up would take much too long. “I’m on the pill and clean. Please stuff me full already.”

Your words deliver a blow to his chest and nearly make him pass out, but he comes back to his senses to line himself up and finally treat his throbbing cock. You sigh as he pushes through, but he makes a strangled grunt. Passing each ridge of your cunt is him succumbing to the chokehold further and further. The pleasure is red hot, pulsing in his joints and almost causing him to collapse on top of you. His hand leaves the few inches of his shaft still exposed in favor of one of your breasts, making you clench around him.

Johnny curses under his breath. “I don’t think I’m gonna be able to hold back.”

“It’s okay, I can handle it.”

“Yeah?” He throws his hips forward experimentally and earns an especially loud moan. He keeps your hips steady with his other hand as his hips push flush against yours. You haven’t fucked many people, but Johnny had to be objectively scarily long. You thought Jungwoo was, but you can feel this man in your navel. “You sure you can handle it?”

His words acted as a warning but his hands were caressing your body so softly. His hand dipped down your stomach and lifted back again to give a tender squeeze to your breast. His actions drive him even madder, especially when he digs his fingers into your thighs, biting his lip. He just couldn’t get enough of your soft skin under his fingers. Touching places he only dreamed about and convinced himself he’d never get to touch.

Johnny was starting to appreciate that he wasn’t using a condom when he thought about really filling you up. Even if a romantic relationship doesn’t somehow come from this, he thinks he may be fine stuffing you full of cock and cum until your bodies physically can’t take it anymore. Just being with you or in you was enough. 

“I love you.” He lowers against your back, breath tickling against your ear as he flicks his hips. You tremble, ass squishing against his pelvis with each knock of his hips. You’ve felt so loved throughout this journey with him, but you crave something more. “I know, I love you too.”

“No,” He starts softly next to your ear, “I really love you, ___.”

Your heart throbbing is so jarring you gasp. Johnny slips from the gaping tunnel he made inside you to let you turn and look at him. Your eyes flicker between his, searching for the information you need before you even ask. “You mean it?” 

“Of course.” He chuckles, brushing his thumb over your lips and then your cheek. “I’ve wanted you from the first time I ever saw you. Even when I didn’t want to admit it.” He plants a tender kiss on your lips, the first coherent one you ever shared. Clearly communicating your evolved love for one another.

You reach for the tip of his member, never breaking the kiss, and line him up again. He groans from the feeling of your warm hand around him before biting your lip when he feels your wet hole again. You help him sink in by raising your hips and it feels different than the first time. Like you were experiencing your old friend like you never had before. You disconnect to drink each other in, gazing longingly at one another as he fully sheathes inside you. Your mouths hang open until noises finally break through. Desperate keens and whines fill each other’s ears as your faces fill each other’s eyes. As if you want to carve each other into your minds.

Your bodies are pressed together and you can feel the other’s heartbeat. His thrusts are shallow, keeping you full at all times as his tip kisses your cervix. You feel your neck flush, your entire body tingling as the pleasure builds, snowballing until aching whimpers are the only sounds emitting from your throat. “I’m close-”

Everything Johnny feels contributes to his incoming high and when he hears those words, it’s like time slows down. “I want you to cum around me so bad.” His thrusts get harsher, balls slapping against your asshole. Your head thrashes against your bed as wet heat fills your lower abdomen. “Johnny!” You gasp as your walls flutter around his cock.

Your face twists and contorts as you massage his dick, flooding it with your arousal as you cum. With a handful of your breast clenched in one of his hands, he cums soon after, slit spurting semen deep within you. 

You’re both immediately rushing to embrace one another, not worrying about the mess, how sweaty you both are, nothing but wanting to stay as close as humanly possible.

//|\\

Epilogue;

The main thing the realtor kept stressing was the rich soil. “That paired with your spacious backyard will make for a breathtaking garden.”

You just wanted a pool. It turns out in-ground pools are a lot more expensive than you thought. No wonder only filthy rich people had them. But, you guess it was for the best. If you had gotten a pool, Johnny wouldn’t have been able to show you just how breathtaking a garden could be. You rest your fists on your hips with a huff.

“That bastard… that skilled bastard.” Jungwoo mimics your pose, shaking his head as he takes in the garden. You mentioned something about not wanting your backyard to look rustic or farm-like, and he clearly took note.

Various stone pathways wind through your backyard and are bordered by a colorful array of tulips, larkspurs, and lilies. A line of rocks keep clumsy feet from stomping his hard work. One path leads to an outdoor movie setup. You can already imagine inviting all your friends over for a movie night. Another leads to a seating area to read or eat. Lastly, the main path starting from your patio leads to a lush, vibrant flower bed that livens up the entire backyard.

Skilled was putting it lightly. “I knew he was good with his hands but…”

“You’re ruining this moment.” Jungwoo cuts his eyes at you. 

“Why are you still here? Your services are no longer needed.” You turn to him once you realize. You just needed relief quickly and Johnny has been busy for obvious reasons. You were a little surprised when he suggested that.

“I still can’t believe he doesn’t care. I’m worried, did I fuck around and now I’m waiting for the subsequent finding out the kids are talking about?” Jungwoo turns and looks at you as if he’s figured it all out. That couldn’t be, he seemed so nonchalant about it. Part of you thinks it’s because he knows sex with him is much better. But why would you tell Jungwoo that? 

“Yeah, I think you should go into hiding.” You reply sardonically.

“Oh my god.”

“Hey!” Johnny calls, propping the door open with his side as he lugs out a heavy can of paint. “I wasn’t done yet.” His expression falls to disappointment when he sees Jungwoo. “What’s he still doing here?”

“He fell for your trap, but he found out you were planning to kill him.” You turn toward the house where he had fully emerged and he drops the can with a loud impact. He looked devastatingly handsome, even a dash of paint on his face. “How am I gonna surprise attack him now?” He joins in on the joke instantly.

“I hate you guys.” Jungwoo deadpans when you both laugh. “I’m leaving, enjoy your murderous, talented boyfriend.” He passes a beaming Johnny and enters your house. 

He makes his way over before grabbing both your hands. You raise on the tips of your toes to press a short, tender kiss to his lips. “How much do you usually charge for this sort of thing?”

“It’s on the house since this is my house as well.”

“That’s good to know.” Your cheeks nearly push your eyes close. You find your cheeks are hurting a lot these days. His smile drops for a moment when vulnerability peeks through.

“D’you like it?” He asks softly. Oh Johnny, you think. Never understanding just how much he impacts every aspect of my life.

You purse your lips, but there’s nothing you could do to dull your smile. Standing in your brand new backyard with your boyfriend felt like a proper start to a new chapter. 

“I love it.”

taglist; @baehaechannie @maximumdreamchild @safariria @maliakealoha

[soft-october-night]

The Love Interests in the Works of Jane Austen: An Assessment

This is an "extremely scientific" and "thoroughly researched" ranking based on personality, money, family and connections, and is a bit of a blend between the book characterizations and the film characterizations (and is in no way only based on my own opinions). Here we go, grouped by book but not much else.

Edmund Bertram: absolute trash. His family has treated you unbelievably shitty since day one and not only has he BARELY noticed, he ALSO has treated you shitty. Will fall in love with someone beautiful and fun and when she dumps him will come crawling to you for a rebound. His passion for you is so lackluster that even the esteemed author who wrote about it barely spared a paragraph on your relationship. Has a job but only because his dad owns the land the church is built on. You’ll gain no connections or family by marrying him, since he’s literally your cousin.  0/10

Henry Crawford: There IS such thing as too much fun, and that is never clearer than in this man, who will try to seduce you as a game, freak out when his middling overtures don’t work and then try and seduce you “for really real” this time. You will definitely move up in the world if you marry him, and if you play your cards right it seems like his sister is also just REALLY into you, so see how that goes. Life will be pretty okay until you find him in bed with one (or more, who knows) of your relations. 3/10, 8/10 if you’re into that

John Willoughby: Will be like something out of a romance novel, you’re thinking he’s going to propose and then he just fucking ghosts you and embarrasses the fuck out of you at a party by acting like he doesn’t know you. Somehow marry him (congrats on the inheritance you must have, btw) and get ready to take a backseat to the whims of his aunt for as long as she lives. 1/10, at least you get to live in a nice house.

Edward Ferrars: Oh Edward. He’s a bit of a mess, isn’t he? Super kind, your family loves him, he made a bunch of stupid decisions in his youth that are coming back to bite him in the ass. He is loyal to an absolute fault, but you luck out when his fiance turns out to be a bit of a gold digger and dumps him when his mom disowns him. He doesn’t have a job and neither do you, but his family doesn’t wanna speak to him (lucky you!) and you’ll be happy and poor together if you two can work on your communication skills. 7/10.

Colonel Brandon: He’s got a nice house, the respect of his friends and the community, and he has a LOT of passion. He’ll give your sister’s penniless husband a job, dramatically rescue you from a rainstorm, make sure his dead girlfriend’s daughter is happy and taken care of even after your ex fucks HER over too, and is all around a pretty decent guy. Just. Uh. Maybe, kinda, sorta, needs to go after women his own age and is probably with you because you remind him of his dead girlfriend. 5/10 with the wildly inappropriate age gap, 9/10 without it.

Mr. Wickham: Please don’t. He’s a thirsty bitch who lives for drama and you think he’s fun until you find out he tried to sleep with one teenage girl and is making eyes at your fifteen year old sister behind your back. Marry him (through the grace of mysterious benefactors, cause he ain’t marrying anyone unless he’s paid the right price) and get ready for a life of being surrounded by military men in the north of England while your husband tries to fuck everything that moves. Work that out somehow with him and you might actually be happy. 0/10.

Mr. Bingley: He is a softboi who will do literally anything his friends tell him to do. He is SUPER rich, and marrying him will throw your sister’s into the path of other rich men and he is REALLY into you, but get ready to be sucking up to his sisters for literally the rest of your life. Unless he can ship Miss Bingley off to live with Mrs. Hurst, have fun trying to wage a war of barely concealed insults over the breakfast table every morning, and if you’re marrying Bingley I’m sorry but that is a war you just cannot win. He doesn’t have a job but he does have five thousand a year, and neither of you can manage money. You’ll love simply and deeply and be happy as any two can be. 8/10.

Mr. Collins: Last resort to rescue yourself from a life of being a burden to your parents until they die and then having to become a governess or something. Has a job but never shuts up about his boss. You will have to rearrange everything in your house according to his boss’ will. 2/10

Mr. Darcy: Is a anxious disaster who doesn’t know how to talk to girls at parties and needs to learn how say no to going out when he’s just not feeling it. He doesn’t have a job because he’s a landlord; he owns half of Derbyshire and has ten thousand a year, but turns out that all of that money and land can’t buy tact or charisma. Doesn’t know how to flirt and thinks he’s doing a great job (he’s not). He’ll propose to you out of the fucking blue one day by insulting literally everything about you, but don’t worry! Reading his letter unlocks Darcy 2.0. This patched version gives him humility, a personality, and he WILL gain the ability to rescue your family from utter ruin. Marry him and enjoy a life of luxury and witty ripostes, but beware! You ARE going to have to deal with Lady Catherine until the day she dies, not to mention Caroline Bingley’s barely concealed contempt every time you meet in polite company. Darcy 1.0 3/10, Darcy 2.0 8/10.

Captain Wentworth: Absolutely top tier. Has a job, has earned everything he has, including a fortune and the respect of his peers, superiors, and subordinates. His sister and her husband are practically the only happily older married couple you know, his friends are super fun and nice (even the dour one with all the poetry knows how to have a polite conversation). If you dumped him ten years ago on the advice of your almost comically shitty family yeah, he’s going to hold a grudge, but he WILL NEVER STOP LOVING YOU and the MOMENT he gets over his pride will do everything and anything in his power (including leaping the bounds of propriety!) to win you back. Based on his love, money, and connections you should RUN, not walk, into his arms TODAY and allow him to rescue you from your family and whisk you off to see the world on his ship, at least until Napoleon busts out of Elba. 12/10

Mr. Eliot: Will lose all your old schoolfriend’s husband’s money in a bad deal, has debts out the ass, might be trying to get with either you or the woman your dad has been flirting with for the last few years, you’re not sure. Is totally ruining the rekindling relationship you’re trying to get going with your far superior ex. He wants the land and title your dad has and will stop at nothing to get it. Marry him and you can move back into your old house (maybe? it’s a little unclear what with all the debts) but have every single cent your mother left you immediately put into some dumbass scheme. 1/10

Henry Tilney: another softboi who just wants to act in the school play while his dad and brother plan to ship him off to military school and berate him for not joining the football team. Bring him shopping with you to pick out dresses, spend long nights over tea chatting about books. Has a job, but again, only because his dad owns the land the church is on. Loves you even though you have some very strange ideas about his house, and will forgive you when he realizes you thought his dad either murdered or imprisoned his mom. If he can find the courage to tell his dad to fuck off and let him live his own life, expect a long, happy marriage of snuggling together in a window seat somewhere, sipping tea and reading. 9/10

John Thorpe: Trash bastard man. Peaked in whatever equivalent of high school he had. Shitty and rude to everyone, would post racist memes on facebook and start fights if he could, all while being shitty and manipulative and CREEPILY possessive of you. -2/10

Robert Martin: A sweet himbo farmer who just wants to love and worship you. He has a job, is pretty rich, and while his connections may not be above his class, he’s an earnest boy who wants to take care of you and be taken care of in turn. Marry him the first time, absolutely do NOT let your friend influence you against him, because who KNOWS if you will get a second proposal! (You will, he likes you THAT much.) Marry him and enjoy a sweet, simple life of exactly zero drama (unless your friend is around). 7/10

Mr. Elton: Trifling gold digging trash who doesn’t know what the word no means. Do not marry, unless you want to be censured by decent, hardworking people -1/10

Frank Churchill: Knows how to have fun, but you know there’s something more going on. He won’t let you see his letters, he sends out secret notes, then he smiles and tells you that everything is totally a okay. Another boy with ANOTHER overbearing aunt, only this one doesn’t know how to say no. Marry him if you’ve got the money, but he will always be longing after the poor girl next door that auntie wouldn’t let him married, and would have cheated on you already if she was into it. 3/10

Mr. Knightly: He’s your brother in law and you’ve known him almost your whole life, so that’s a little sus, but he is also the ONLY person in your entire life who knows how to tell you no (and you really, REALLY need to be told no sometimes.) He is extremely wealthy, but more importantly he’s kind and caring about people who are considered “beneath” him. He will break his weird no dancing rule to dance with your shy friend, he will ream you out for being shitty to unwed spinsters who value your opinion, and somehow has the correct read on everyone all the time. You will gain no connections by marrying him, since the two of you already have the exact same connections anyway, but the two of you should be content in a test of wills that will last a lifetime. You’ll be very happy as long as he doesn’t get super pedantic and start correcting you about everything. 7/10

[slightlymore]

my soulmate loves wine

part of the ‘soulmates collection’

doyoung x fem reader

others: jaemin, jeno 

genre: one-shot, soulmates au, enemies? to lovers, romance, smut, fluffy tones, phone chat (there are pics of the conversation) 

warnings: tarot readings, alcohol, swearing, insults, explicit sex scenes (oral f and m, penetration, protected and unprotected - seriously, have unprotected sex only with people you trust. if you will have unprotected sex with strangers, i will manifest in the room and besides it being absolutely embrarrassing for you, i will also smack your heads together and call you stupid - bondage, rough, spanking, hair pulling, spit swallowing, slight breeding kink, use of 'slut', dom doyoung,  sub doyoung, overstimulation f and m, edging f and m, dry humping, wet humping, mouth fucking, cum swallowing, slight exhibitionism, f solo, m solo, phone sex), doyoung has a big cock too lmao (in all of my own personal readings I always get that my soulmate has a big cock for no reason and I thought it was a funny detail)

words: 17K

tag list:  @seostudios @doyochii @doodlingpizza @eboyhyunjunreblogs​ @mina-is-babie @sorrywonwoo @peterrogers15 @delphiskpoporacle @waffletaeng @wownajaemin @shimyshimykoko @doyoung-onli @chxb03 @strawberrymilkandcigarettes @hyucksie​ @neonun-au​ @cumtrov3rsy​ 

_____

January 1st 2:23 am 

And if he's not my soulmate, I'd rather wander alone than touching someone else's skin, I'd rather walk this earth with no hand to hold and lift me from the ground. And if I have to heal from it and accept the universe's imposed call, I'd rather suffer from my eternally open wounds. I'll fight the stars and let them burn me, I'll let them laugh at my weakest state and I'd gladly make them erase my memory of ever existing in all of the infinite lives if I have to follow Fate. 

Doyoung felt the golden letters on the book cover in front of him and raised his eyes when he heard the crystal curtain move. 

“I wouldn’t open it if I were you.” 

A middle-aged woman was smiling at him, walking towards the table Doyoung and Jaemin were sat at. 

The room became even darker but a certain comfort engulfed Doyoung when she smiled. 

“I’ve never seen a book with a poem on the cover instead of a title.” 

“A dear friend of mine made it.” 

Her expression was calm and peaceful when she eyed the book and put her hand on it, pulling it towards herself. 

“It’s beautiful,” Doyoung looked at the worn bordeaux leather. “What’s inside?” 

“I’m glad you like it. And that’s-,” she leaned in mysteriously, “-a secret.” 

As she spoke, a little candle lit up between them and the boys both flinched. 

“Wow,” Jaemin whispered. 

Doyoung blinked at the woman then chuckled once, laughing mostly at himself for being so jumpy for no reason. That place was made to look creepy but he reminded himself that it was only a facade. 

“I’m here for a reading.” Her gaze was piercing and Doyoung realized that she hadn’t stopped looking at him since she entered the room. 

“There’s a certain resistance on your part.” Doyoung tried not to snort. “Well…” I don’t believe in these sorts of things, he wanted to say, but Jaemin suddenly laughed, slamming his palm on the table and making a decent amount of colourful stones jingle on the glass table. 

Doyoung sighed. “Sorry, my friend is very drunk.” 

“You’re also drunk as fuck,” the other pointed his finger to the first’s face, poking him in the nose as he couldn’t keep his balance. 

The woman smiled kindly as if unbothered to suddenly have two obnoxious young men trying to get a reading at two in the morning.  “This is going to be a love reading. We’ll see what the Spirit wants to tell you about your soulmate.” “Actually, I’m here for a general one? Like, I don’t know-,” Doyoung tried to find his words and looked at Jaemin. “Money and sex?” the younger one suggested before they could have another laughter fit for no apparent reason. The woman kept the corner of her lips lifted as she retrieved a beautiful tarot deck. “Would you blow on this please?” Jaemin tried to open his eyes. “Blow? Of course. Doyoung is good at blowing.” Doyoung hit him with the shoulder. “Shut the fuck up. We’ll get kicked out if you continue,” he whispered amused. Or at least he tried to whisper. The boys kept giggling for a few more moments then got serious as they eyed the spread of cards in front of them. 

The woman nodded and smiled. 

Doyoung blinked at the lady then at the cards. 

"There's mystery and magic attached to this connection. The universe wants this to be a surprise. You’ve been manifesting a lot, haven’t you?” 

The young man felt suddenly very awake. 

“Uhm, no.” 

“It’s okay if you’re not honest with me. The Spirit can see your true feelings. It’s saying that if you needed a confirmation that this is real, then here it is.”

Doyoung stared at her nail, tapping at the card and wondered how many years of training she needed to be able to read people like that since he was sure that that piece of paper could not be able to tell her anything. 

Relaxing on his chair he tried to put on the most neutral expression ever then nodded. 

Okay, it meant. Go on. 

“King of cups. Your soulmate is very in touch with their emotions. They’re going to teach you how to open up more since it’s difficult for you to express what you’re feeling.” Doyoung tightened his lips before he could wrongfully deny it. On his left, Jaemin was already sleeping with his head on the table.

_____

January 1st 2:23 pm 

"Will we know right away that we're each other's soulmate?" 

The Lady smiled and nodded at your widened and curious eyes. 

"You have an intense soul connection. Also, you’ll know right away because sex-,” You gulped. “-is going to be the best you’ve ever had in your whole life. He’s a very fiery person and is quite domineering, I can tell it from the King of swords. He wants to dominate you in bed, maybe pull your hair? You love it. And he definitely loves your body, especially legs and chest. He worships you and he will put you on a pedestal.” 

You felt your face warm up so you put your palms on your cheeks, trying hard to process all of that information. 

The woman continued after a little giggle to herself. “He can come off a little cocky. He thinks he’s very good in bed thanks to his natural attributes but that’s just because he’s a little insecure. Maybe consider reassuring him that he’s making you feel good?” 

Your mouth was dry and you automatically nodded. 

“Wait, what do you mean with- uh-- with natural attributes?”

_____

Sometime in June 

“Did you hear about the guy accused of stealing because it looked like he had something in his pocket while in reality, it was his 10 inches monster?” Jaemin asked before laughing like a supervillain, head thrown back on the couch cushions, splattering spit all over Doyoung who was sitting near him with furrowed eyebrows as he tried to find a good movie to watch. 

“Yeah, it was me,” Doyoung replied with a monotone voice. 

“Oh? Doyoung made a joke? I guess I might say that you’re-- cocky?” 

Doyoung chuckled even if he tried not to. 

“Okay, since you’re in a good mood-,” the other clapped his hands once. “No.” “You don’t even know what I wanted to ask you!” Jaemin whined. “I’m busy.” “You don’t do anything all day.” “I have to take care of my monster cock-” Jaemin slapped Doyoung’s mouth to cover it. “It hurts,” he mumbled. 

“Listen. Next Sunday you’ll accompany me at the opening of a new winery. You don’t have to do anything besides be pretty and drink wine while I try to get between one of the associates’ legs.” “I knew it had to do with pussy.” “She invited me! It’s not like I can refuse. I’ve had a crush on her ever since I met her at that work meeting.” “You mean a few days ago?” “Love has no stages.” “Why do I have to come with you?” “I have two invitations. Drinking expensive wine for free? Hello? I’m doing you a favour," he spoke quickly and dramatically, clicking his fingers. “You need three invitations, for me and my co--ahi!” Doyoung giggled after Jaemin smacked him with a cushion.

_____

You had no idea you’d be having backseat sex that day and honestly, you felt highly unprepared. 

Black ripped jeans and a leather jacket, the most basic outfit one guy could have on, yet you were salivating and for once it was not because of the pizza Jeno was handing you. 

“Uhm, Houston?” he clicked his fingers in front of your face then looked into the direction you were looking. 

“The guy on the right?” he asked without batting an eye. “How did you know?” you turned your head suddenly to face him and he put the slice of pizza inside of your open mouth. Then he rolled his eyes. 

“He’s completely your type.” "I want to fuck him."

Jeno raised one eyebrow and you suddenly realized what you've just said. 

"No. I meant-," "Hey! Guy with the rabbit mask!" Jeno suddenly yelled at the group of boys sitting on the grass in front of you. "What the fuck are you doing? Are you stupid?" you pulled his arm down. "My friend here said that she wants to f-," you slammed a hand on his mouth before he could finish. "I'm going to kill you," you whispered as Jeno started to giggle. 

The Rabbit boy looked at you for a little while, tilting his head to the side, but then turned his back to you. He probably didn't hear anything and thought that you were all drunk. 

“What the fuck was that?” you whispered. 

Jeno sighed. “Y/N. You’re too shy. If you want to fuck a guy just go and do it."

You scoffed. “I’m too shy? I am not shy. I can fuck whoever I want.” “Yeah? Then fuck the Rabbit.” 

You crossed your arms on your chest and put your tongue in your cheek. 

“Can’t do it huh?” Jeno teased you. "I can. And I will." "I bet you can't." "I bet I will."

_____

“I’ll be honest with you. I’m here because of a bet.” The Rabbit had a gulp of beer as if girls with a Moon mask approached him with bet talk every day. Then he giggled. 

“Sorry, your mask is ridiculous.” 

You rolled your eyes even if he couldn’t see it. 

Okay, he was a douche. Did you still want to fuck him though? Yes. 

“What’s the bet about?” he inquired. 

You straightened your lips in a tight line, the sound of your pulse almost audible in the silence of the parking lot. 

“MyfriendsaidthatIwouldn’tbeabletofuckyoubecauseI’mshyandIwanttoprovetohimthatI’mnot.” 

You spitted everything out thanks to the gigantic amounts of wine you had that night and found yourself panting a little when you were done. A little voice inside your head was screaming that it was dangerous and highly inappropriate for you to behave like that but you shrugged internally and hit it in the face.

“What?” the dude asked after a beat. 

You sighed. “MyfriendsaidthatIw-” “Okay, okay,” he raised his palms, “hold up. Talk slowly? Your friend what?” “Myfriendsaid-” “Can you just talk slowly, please?” 

“Nevermind,” you turned your back to him and walked away. 

“Mooney, come back here.” 

You stopped. “How did you just call me?”

The guy straightened his back and laughed under his mask. “If you want to fuck me, at least try and seduce me first.” “Aren’t you already under my spell if you’re so eager to keep going on with this conversation?” you found yourself saying. He shrugged. “I’m just bored. And don’t you want to win that bet? I guess you’re actually shy and your friend was right.” You scoffed. “I’m not gullible. You won’t make me do things only because you told me that I can’t.” “You’re here doing a thing only because your friend told you that you can’t. How is that not being gullible?” “It’s not being gullible if I’m here with that as an excuse when in reality I want to fuck you on the backseat, Rabbit.” 

You couldn’t see his face but you knew he was smiling as he opened the car’s door and with a dramatic gesture he invited you in. 

You walked in front of him slowly, asking yourself what the fuck you were actually doing, and he was quick to follow you inside. 

It was dark and warm and you decided to lie to yourself that the trembling sigh that escaped your lips was because you’ve been feeling cold before and not because you felt the Rabbit’s hands on your waist. You let him pull you in his lap and his palms slowly brushed your goosebumpy thighs first, then your torso, hovering over your breasts before they could grab your mask and take it away. You were breathing through your mouth and you desperately needed to see his expression upon seeing your face. With trembling fingers, you pulled the little white rabbit down and his eyes made an appearance first forcing you to inhale sharply. Masks slipping on the side, you both took in the view of each other. He did not speak a word and you didn’t either. 

“Do-,” you started unsurely, “do we know each other? Have we met before?” 

He blinked at you and you could tell he was as confused as you were. “I don’t think so,” he whispered and you finally realized how close he was. 

Like a switch, when you moved he moved as well and you roughly hit your mouths together, his hands cupping your ass and your fingers curling in his hair. It was so fast and almost painful the way you embraced each other that you wondered just how horny some wine could make you become. He grunted as you suddenly bit his neck and just that sound made your blood boil. You knew how and where to touch him and when his fingers got underneath your dress it seemed like he knew your weak spots as well. You let go of his neck and grabbed his head as your nipples disappeared inside his mouth. His lips were cold just like his touch and it made you shiver.

_____

Doyoung noticed you the exact moment you walked onto the lawn. 

Your legs were bare and he wondered why Jaemin dragged him to such a weird party. 

“Just buy whatever,” the younger said behind a black ominous mask while examining himself in the mirror. 

Doyoung hummed pensively and grabbed the white Rabbit. 

“I wanted that one too but since I’m going to see the associate lady tonight again, I thought that something less stupid would be better,” commented Jaemin.  

“So you think this is stupid?” 

“It goes well with your vibe. Buy it,” he wiggled his eyebrows and for once Doyoung just sighed and shrugged. 

“Ah come on, why are you not in a good mood tonight? We’ll have free food and alcohol tonight then free food and wine tomorrow.” 

“I really don’t feel like coming. It makes no sense to throw a party before a party. I can’t believe you tricked me into coming to two parties.” 

It was Jaemin’s turn to shrug. “These people have been travelling through all of Europe and shit. It’s their version of an afterparty. Like a rave. But it’s before the actual party and it’s on grass, with masks on and at 5 pm. You have to come.” "So there's going to be classical music and tea?" 

The cashier ringed their items quickly and Jaemin took out his wallet to pay.   “Why do you even get invited to all of these events?” Doyoung went on and added a pack of mints too. Jaemin smirked. “She likes me a lot, huh? Can’t wait to taste that sweet juicy pussy.” The cashier cleared her throat and was quick to dismiss them with her rightfully dry “have a good day”. “I just think she’s trying to gather customers for her wine. Don’t get your hopes up.” “She’ll want to gift me her wine after I’ll make her boun-”

Doyoung was so ready to accept an evening of him wandering around a party full of strangers talking in god knows what languages while his friend got it wet that when you pressed yourself on his crotch, nibbling at his neck and exhaling so deeply, he felt lightheaded. 

You were with another guy and Doyoung watched you sit down on the cushions behind his group of friends. Your nude legs got even nuder as your white dress shifted up exposing your thighs. A sudden urge to spread them invaded his mind and he had to do something with his hands instead. 

“Hey, guy with the rabbit mask!” 

Doyoung turned his head around right in time to see you smack the dude on the face. 

“Did that guy just tell you that his friend wants to fuck you?” Jaemin inquired with a giggle. Doyoung wondered how Jaemin could hear something like that at such a distance. 

“I guess?” he agreed though. “And I want to fuck her too,” he heard himself add.  

Jaemin’s mask looked as shocked as his expression underneath it. 

“Why are you so bold all of a sudden? No, I mean, yes! Fuck her.” 

Doyoung shook his head to get rid of the imaginary fog. “I was joking. Why are you getting so worked up?” 

But when Jaemin finally disappeared suddenly, presumably to drink some wine with his lady, Doyoung could physically feel your eyes on his back as he walked down the hill towards the parking lot. 

Your steps were light and you’d stop when he’d stop, unsuccessfully hiding behind the tall bushes of roses. 

As he unlocked his car with a high toned beep, he leaned on the side of it and waited for you to approach him. A giggle left his chest when he saw you trying to find him in the middle of all of those cars. 

“I am here,” he announced and you jolted. 

Turning around you eyed him and stopped in place then took a timid step, then another until only a few separated you from him. 

“I’ll be honest with you. I’m here because of a bet.” 

You looked airy just like the moon on your mask and he thought you were adorable swinging your body weight from one foot to another like that. 

“Sorry, your mask is-,” adorable, “-ridiculous. What’s the bet about?” 

“My friend said that I wouldn’t be able to fuck you because I’m shy and I want to prove to him that I’m not.” 

You were so bold that Doyoung felt his air miss from his lungs. 

You slurred your words on purpose and he tried hard to pretend that he didn’t understand just to hear you say that you wanted him to fuck you again. 

“What?” he asked.

You sighed. “MyfriendsaidthatIw-” “Okay, okay,” he raised his palms, “hold up. Talk slowly? Your friend what?” “Myfriendsaid-” “Can you just talk slowly, please?” “Nevermind.” 

Fuck. 

“Mooney, come back here.” 

The air rustled with energy and he completely missed everything besides “I want to fuck you on the backseat” part and he had no idea how you got into the car and how he got you on his legs. 

But now there you were, soft in his arms. 

And when you took away your mask his head got drilled by a thousand questions. Your eyes, mirroring his expression as you slid his mask down, told him that you were thinking the same thing. Like two magnets you collided in a heated kiss and your scent was so familiar that Doyoung sighed when you let his lips go to breathe.

_____

Finally, finally, finally, your mind was chanting as the Rabbit moulded your body with his hands. 

Your mind became mush so quickly that it was honestly embarrassing when you realized that you were riding his hardened cock. His lips on your neck seemed amused and after a moment he took away his fingers from your body, leaning back and watching you from under heavy lids. 

You bit your lower lip and stopped with a certain difficulty, the burning sensation between your legs already boiling inside your veins. 

"Go on." 

His voice was sultry and raspy and your body reacted to it as if under a spell. 

Your fingers on his shoulders deepened their hold and you closed your eyes for a brief moment before opening them again. 

"Come on. Go on. Doesn't it feel good?" 

He cooed, dragging one single finger across your bust, between your breasts and down on your stomach. His eyes wouldn't let a single expression of yours escape them. 

"It would feel better if you fucked me."

The light in his irises twinkled. 

"But I like to see you like this," he said before leaning in and letting his breath caressing your ear. "Desperate." 

His voice was like a hiss and your skin shivered with goosebumps. You felt his open mouth on your nude shoulder, slowly going towards your clavicle and you extended your neck up to welcome him. 

"Go on," he ordered again and your hips snapped, rolling on him, feeling the way your panties got pulled up as he slid his hands under your dress and twirled the sides around his fingers. It was frustrating as intoxicating and soon enough the windows of his car became misty from your heavy breaths. 

"I hate this," you whined and he chuckled. "I can see that."

Almost completely lost in your foggy mind you jolted at a sudden snap and you stopped your motions just to see him slide your panties from between your legs and throw them to the front. 

With a single pull, he pushed your now raw pussy on his clothed cock while his hands spread your ass, guiding your movements. 

"Fuck," you gasped, feeling the rough material on your sensitive skin and it didn't take you a lot to go over the edge with fingers curled inside his hair and mouths open against each other. He drank your shaking moans, then without giving you a second to remember where you were, his arms wrapped your torso and pushed you under his weight. Your feet stopped on the window as you yelped and you desperately wanted to call his name when you felt his tongue lap at your wetness. His fingers were tightly wrapped around your thighs and when you moaned a few times in a row, your back arching and your body squirming in his hold, he palmed your stomach and pressed you down again.

_____

You looked like every sex dream Doyoung has ever had. 

Arms thrown around your head, chest rising and falling, your sweet whimpers and soft skin, it drove him crazy. Your thighs pressing on the side of his head felt like everything he has ever wanted but wasn’t aware of. 

Mine mine mine all mine. A weird possession sentiment swept him away and when he looked up at your fucked up expression he felt like shivering. With a plop he let your clit go and kept pumping his fingers inside of you, curling them right where you wanted him to, kissing your navel, licking your under breasts, sucking the skin in until it probably hurt, then sucking on your nipples, and finally on your lower lip. He wanted to see your face when you’d cum all over his fingers and when you gasped, wrapping his torso with your arms and trying to hide your face into the crook of his neck, he grabbed your chin and made you look at him. Your eyelids fluttered as he heard you swear multiple times and as he felt you clench so deliciously that he couldn’t wait to feel it around his aching cock instead. He wanted to rest a bit, maybe put his head on your soft chest and listen to your heartbeats but you were a stranger and you were hooking up in his car. So he sat on his knees between your legs instead, panting as if he were the one who just came, and he let his eyes trail on your naked body, licking his lower lip when he reached your wet core. He would have wanted to smear all of that on himself but he reached his jacket instead and took a condom out.  

“Why do boys always carry a condom with them? You never know when you’d end up fucking?” 

“Actually, when we carry a condom we never fuck and when we don’t have it we have the opportunity to fuck.” 

“Well, today you’re lucky,” you smirked and he loved the way you tried to hide away your embarrassment with banter. 

“Do you still want to do this?” he palmed your knee.

“Yes,” you nodded. “You didn’t cum.” 

“You don’t have to worry about that. Do you want it?” 

Doyoung wondered what kind of expression he had on to make you light up so much. 

You bit your lower lip and sat up suddenly, getting on your knees as well and turning around with a certain difficulty. 

“Yes,” you said again and bent over. 

Doyoung choked at the view and wondered what country he had saved in his previous life to deserve all of that.  

_____

You dreamt about opening a winery probably since you tasted wine for the first time. 

You loved it. 

Sour, sweet, bitter, flowery, fruity, still and frizzy, you loved it all. 

People thought you were crazy and no one supported you until you met your best friend in university. 

“Are you kidding? I’d love to open a winery with you.” 

The classroom was well lit and she looked like an angel against the sunny windows. 

You looked at her with wide eyes. “Really?” 

She hit your arm playfully. “Of course! I love wine and that sounds like a very cool idea.” 

“Look, I’m actually very serious about this so if you’re saying this just to-,”

She took your hands and looked into your eyes. “Me too. We’ll do it. I promise.” 

Now, years later you were looking around at the freshly painted venue and couldn’t believe your eyes. 

You did it. 

Tall ceilings and shelves full of your blood and sweat, you walked around slowly, one finger to gently tap on the various displayed bottles. 

“Hey, hey, no touching. We’ve cleaned them up and they have to shine.” 

Your friend appeared on your side and you smiled. Her dress was sleeveless and you made a face touching her arms. 

“Have you been working out girl? What are these?” 

She snapped her head down to look at herself. “I guess… uhm, it’s all of the exercises… uhm that I do.” 

You took her sudden panic for embarrassment and cackled. “With the party guy?”

“Who?” 

“Jaemin you said?” “Oh yeah! Yeah, we’re quite active, aha.” 

“Well, to get those arms you might have done a lot of hardcore BDSM.” You laughed but your friend looked rather mortified. 

“Aw, come on,” you gently elbowed her. “I also fucked the guy from yesterday,” you added to make her feel better. And she lit up so much at the news that she almost knocked over the bottles in front of you. 

“And you tell me now? How did it go?” “Well, I guess. I don’t really want to think about it though. I don’t think I’m into hookups.”

_____

Doyoung didn't like hookups but when he stepped inside the winery's main hall and saw your legs again and the way your ass was wrapped in that short dress he desperately wanted to bury his cock in it. 

"Not bad, huh?" Jaemin smiled at the waiter welcoming them with glasses of wine, before looking up at the nicely decorated venue. 

"Yeah, not bad at all," Doyoung murmured as you turned around and he considered fucking your breasts too. 

Then he cleared his throat as he took a glass of wine as well, feeling his neck warming up. He looked around as he sipped, suddenly conscious of people as if they could read his horny mind. At that moment, with his body acting up as if possessed, he wondered if the wine didn’t have some sort of aphrodisiac in it. 

“Do you also feel a little funny?” Doyoung placed down the wine and reached for his tie to loosen it up. 

Jaemin glanced over him and promptly looked down. “Uh-oh. Do we have an emergency?” he started to laugh and Doyoung closed his eyes briefly before opening them and turning around towards the buffet. 

“Heh, did that girl do something to you? You were so upset when she left without saying anything.” 

“It was just a hookup,” Doyoung murmured trying to understand what kind of food he was staring at. 

“An amazing hookup if you get like this upon seeing her.” 

“Not for her I guess.” 

“So you are upset. Cupid worked hard last night,” he elbowed his friend. 

“Give me a break. You’re also crushing on your lady.” 

“Also? Kim Doyoung, are you crushing on the winery girl?”

He shook his head quickly putting a pastry in his mouth to have an excuse to not speak. Jaemin lightly hit him and Doyoung hit him back like kids in third grade when suddenly the lights became dimmer and you spoke into a mic.

_____

“Hey, have you seen Jeno?” you asked your friend after finishing your introductory discourse and let people finally get wasted as they wanted to. “Who?” “Jeno? The guy I’m always hanging out with? He should have been here by now but I don’t see him anywhere.” 

Your friend made a perplexed face and you sighed. “You’re right. You’ve never met him before. You’re both my best friends so I always forget that you’ve never seen each other.” 

“Well, I kinda know how he looks like, so if I see him then-,”

"So you stole my money,” a sudden voice at your back interrupted you and you turned around to lock eyes with none other than the Rabbit. 

He was so good looking that you felt the urge to kiss him, yet his mocking face made you so irrationally mad that you felt like slapping him too. 

You put your hands on your hips and raised your chin. "Proof?"

You were still panting last evening trying hard to stop shaking from your third orgasm in a row. The Rabbit did a lot of things to you and you wondered why you didn’t hook up with strangers more often if that was the outcome. His wallet was on the seat in front of you and for a split second, you smiled wondering if he carried a family photo in it. His back looked very broad as he stood outside the car and presumably tried to make himself pee with a half-hard penis but probably failing. A sudden voice startled you and Doyoung replied to it. You quickly pulled down your dress and eyed the ripped panties on the steering wheel. Shit. You tried to grab them but the dude talking to Doyoung took a few steps closer so you retreated. "Fucked her good just like you planned?" Your face scrunched in a pout and you suddenly found yourself very upset. Doyoung didn't reply anything but you weren't sure that he didn't make a face. It was a good night. You had fun and a good-looking dude made you cum. You fucked him good just like you planned too. Then why did you feel a little used? Maybe you weren’t acquainted with the hookup culture, or maybe deep down you hoped that the sudden attraction you felt for the Rabbit was magical, but suddenly you felt very weird and a wave of disgust invaded you. 

He was definitely not your soulmate and you should just get out of there. 

You opened the door slowly on your side, quietly looking over your shoulder to make sure that they wouldn’t hear you. Feet on the ground you eyed the wallet again and you opened it. Not to check his family photo as you previously wanted to, but to get all of his cash. You swallowed a chuckle and ran away up the hill back to the restaurant’s garden.

He scoffed. "You’re a terrible thief. I make you cum and you steal from me?" 

"You look like a rich guy. You deserved it. Also, you ripped my panties."

"And you liked it."

You clenched your jaw. "It wasn't even good sex."

His jaw's muscles flinched too. "You probably couldn't walk properly."

"Yeah, because of the cramped car not because of your cock." 

"I think you have a loss of memory all of a sudden. Do I have to remind you how my cock feels like?" 

"Sure. Then I will be able to say to your face that it doesn’t feel good.”

_____

"Fuck, it feels so fucking good."

Dragging you by the wrist, Doyoung shoved you in the first room he found and pressed you against the cold wall. 

"I can't believe I'm about to have sex in the rosés showroom," you spoke with a breathy voice and when Doyoung pressed his open lips on yours you realized that you didn’t even know his name. 

One thing is hooking up with a dude in his car while drunk, another thing is choosing to fuck him consciously on the opening of your new business and completely sober. 

Although, when he started to kiss your jaw and neck, his tongue slowly creeping out and tickling your nerves, your mind felt so hazy that you wondered if you somehow had something to drink already and couldn’t remember. 

Didn’t you hate the guy just a few moments ago?

“Do you really have to wear these dresses and drive me insane?” he whispered on your lips as his hands pulled up the dress in question. 

You wanted to reply with something smartass but honestly, you chose that dress with him in mind. 

Somehow, while browsing your closet for the big day, your mind could not stop thinking about the Rabbit boy. Your mixed feelings towards him confused you and you'd go on weird tangents of complete hatred and high adoration thinking about his face between your legs. 

Certain that he’d come to the opening too, you carefully wore each piece of clothing you had, looking at yourself in the mirror and imagining he was the one looking at you through your eyes. Would he like the split on your thigh? Or would he like the way the dress accentuated your breasts more? Without realizing your hands were on your bust going up slowly, gently kneading your soft skin, cupping your boobs and flicking your nipples. Then one moved on your stomach, then on your thigh and just like that you started to moan. 

And you were moaning at that moment too as the Rabbit lightly caressed your clit with the tip of his cock. You pushed your hips towards him to get more and he pushed you back into the wall, one hand reaching for your mouth and slipping the thumb on your tongue. You twirled it around his digit and sucked, lightly choking when he reached farther and choking again when you finally felt his cock fill you up too. 

“You have to be quiet, Y/N.” 

Your name on his lips made you tremble. 

He probably heard it during the welcoming discourse or read it on the pamphlets and the fact that he knew it and you didn’t know his one, made you feel vulnerable in a pleasant way. 

Or maybe it was the way his hand gripped the softness of your thigh, keeping it up on his hip, or maybe his own hips pushing inside of you that made you feel like turning into mush. 

“Will you be quiet for me or am I fucking you too good?” he took away his finger and you gasped for air, your whines getting louder. 

“As I thought,” he mocked you. “It wasn’t even good sex, she said.” 

You bit your lower lip and hid your face into the crook of his neck but he pulled you away, cupping your cheek. “You have to look at me. I want to see this pretty face when you cum.”

Your eyes fluttered as his cock basically decided to rearrange your guts and you dug your fingers into his shoulders with a teeth-gritted moan. 

“Are you close, baby?” You nodded breathlessly, the sudden pet-name just making it impossible for you to not beg to make you cum.

“You want me to make you cum?” 

You nodded again. “Gonna cum- so hard-,” 

The Rabbit thrust a few times more into you and suddenly pulled out. 

You gasped as if mortally offended but unable to move a muscle. 

"I don't think so."

His smirk made you swallow your own spit and he held your waist when he took a step back after letting your leg down. 

“Hey! Come on!” 

Dragging you away just like before he made you walk towards the party hall. His iron grip made it impossible for you to just go away and finish yourself and honestly, it would have been quite pathetic. 

You moved as if drunk, fingers visibly shaking and mind clouded in the middle of the crowd.

"Fuck, I'll make you pay for this." 

He smiled at you and intertwined his fingers with yours before lifting both of your hands and placing a kiss on your knuckles. 

"Yes darling, I've already paid last time," he replied as a few curious people looked your way and saw just a random couple chatting peacefully. 

You took a deep breath and tried to smile unbothered, imitating Doyoung's relaxed expression. 

"It was just a joke. Do you want those couple of bucks back?” 

He tilted his head to the side. “No. Let’s say I had paid you for your services.” 

You disregarded him and opened your clutch, retrieving a few dollars. With a quick hand, you shoved them halfway inside Doyoung's pants making sure others didn't stare. 

"Thank you for today’s fuck too then, slut."

_____

To say that it was easy for Doyoung to stop feeling you around his cock and pretend he wasn’t about to lose his mind when he couldn’t cum either, would be the biggest lie of the universe. But your frustrated expression, trembling limbs and glossy eyes made it all worth it. 

“Where have you been?” 

Jaemin handed him a glass of white wine and Doyoung took it absentmindedly. When he brought it to his mouth and had a sip he almost spit it back inside.

“What the fuck is this?” 

Jaemin chuckled. “The winery’s speciality.” 

“This is disgusting.” 

“I had a whole bottle of that yesterday so now I’m used to it.” 

“Why is it so sour?” 

Jaemin hit his shoulder lightly to bring his attention to something and when Doyoung raised his gaze he saw your furious aura staring at them from a few steps away. 

“Maybe the lady behind the recipe is sour as well,” he joked. “I lied when I asked you where you’ve been. Saw you together just now. Did you not fuck her good enough?” 

Doyoung smiled and took another sip of the wine, barely being able to not make a face for a second time. “I fucked her so good that now she’s mad.” 

“From her expression, she doesn’t look very pleased with the experience. And in fact,” Jaemin added quickly, grabbing Doyoung’s arm since he got distracted by the red wine, “she’s probably seeking a better one.” 

You were chuckling at some dude’s pick-up line and accepted to disappear with him out of Doyoung’s sight. 

The sweet dessert wine he tasted felt as sour as the first one.

_____

“Is the person I’m thinking about my soulmate?” “You already know the answer to that.” 

You bit your lower lip unsure. 

“What do you want me to say?” the lady smiled. “Yes or no.” “Why don’t you have faith?” 

You leaned back in your chair and let your gaze fall on the decorations on the tarot reader’s desk. The little obsidian stones reminded you of the dude’s eyes and it made you irrationally angry. 

You wanted to make him jealous. 

You wanted him to come up to you and grab your hand or something and make the boring-ass guy that approached you to leave. 

But he didn’t. 

If he really were your soulmate, wouldn’t you both feel it? Were you just going crazy? Were you lonely enough that you weighed your every desire on him?

“I saw him just twice and I don’t even know his name,” you sighed, talking almost to yourself. 

You probably unconsciously pouted because the Lady smiled kindly at you. She was no therapist but she gladly accepted to talk to you again after your first encounter. 

“Does he match the description the cards gave you?” 

“Well, he does have a very big cock, yeah,” you started. “Uhm, yes, it was that type of meeting,” you explained quickly before she could judge but the woman didn’t look unfazed. In fact, she was quite pleased to hear that. 

“You think that meeting your soulmate is just seeing them and everything falls into place. But it’s harder than that. You still have to want it and you still have to work for the union. So many people missed the opportunity to get with their soulmate because they didn’t work hard enough.” 

“Well, shouldn’t this be meant to be or something? Even if I make mistakes?” 

The Lady tilted the head to the side and for a split second you felt as if talking to a lost best friend. “We have a lot of choice in life. Everything is out there ready for you and you will get help but only if you have faith it will happen.”

_____

“You again?” he asked, fakely annoyed. 

You’ve always brushed off your mom’s words. 

“At least take your sweatpants out of your knee-high socks.” “It’s just the convenience store at the corner, mom. It’s not like I will meet my soulmate tonight at 10 pm.” 

But you actually met him and it was terrible. 

The packs of instant ramen in your hands trembled a little as the Rabbit dude passed one hand through his hair waiting for a normal human reaction from you.  

“What are you doing here?” 

“Buying groceries for dinner,” he explained then eyed your snacks. “You too, I see.” 

You tried to not let his subtle mockery get to you. “Yeah but why in this store in particular?” 

“You’re wondering if this is fate?” he giggled. 

But actually, Doyoung was the first to wonder if it was fate. 

He has never really thought of the Lady’s words in detail, nor he believed in any of it, but when he first saw you descending the hill with your moon costume as if you were the actual moon, his mind independently carved the thought of how nice it would be for you to be his soulmate.  

“I live in this neighbourhood and I assume you do too since you’re dressed like this,” he let his eyes fall and he looked at your stained pyjama pants. 

A wave of heat passed through your whole body and for the first time, it wasn’t pleasure. 

Your real soulmate would have never said that. 

Embarrassed, you cleared your throat. 

“Well, see you around then.” Turning on your heels, you didn’t wait for him to greet you back. 

“Did that guy make you cum?” 

You stopped so suddenly that the first two packs of ramen fell to your feet. You grunted and tried to bend but it was impossible to grab them without making the others fall too. With the corner of your eye, you saw the rabbit boy’s hands retrieving your stuff and when he got up again you felt his skin on the back of your hands as he pulled the remaining packs from you and let them fall in his cart. “Thank you.” 

“Answer my question.” 

You gulped but put on a brave face. 

“This is not a conversation to have in the condiments aisle.” “Then come to my apartment.” 

The intensity in his voice made your heart beat faster and then you blinked at his back as he turned around the cart and made his way towards the register. 

“Wait, my ramen!” 

He didn’t acknowledge you and greeted the cashier good evening. You awkwardly stood beside him as they beeped all of his fancy groceries. 

“Uhm-,” you extended your hands to get your ramen but they beeped that too without batting an eye and the rabbit bagged everything in a few seconds. 

“I- I could have- why-?” you followed him. “Now I have to pay you back.” “You gave me enough money last time.” 

You crossed your arms on your chest as Doyoung placed the bags inside his car's trunk.

“That was for-,” you started but stopped realizing that you were about to talk about sex on a busy street in front of your corner grocery store. 

He smiled. “Yeah?” 

“Give me my ramen now.” 

“Get inside,” he indicated with his head and without missing a beat he got behind the wheel. 

“Why do you even drive if you live in the neighbourhood?” You entered and sighed, trying to put on the seat belt. “The groceries are heavy.” “Do you even lift?” “I love lifting women but not groceries.” “You lift other women and I can’t get a guy to make me cum without you asking me questions about it?” 

Doyoung looked at you with a little smile as you stopped at the red sign. “Does the thought of me with other women make you upset or am I imagining things?” “Does the thought of guys making me cum make you upset?” you retorted. “Yes.” 

You choked on air and the movement of the car starting again made your body press back on the seat. You didn’t expect that. 

“Then why did you make me leave with him?” 

Your voice got tiny and you hoped he didn’t actually hear you because at the same moment you realized that it was a little embarrassing. But his sudden glance told you that he did. His gaze returned towards the street and his adam apple travelling up and down his throat told you that he didn’t know what to say. 

“Why did you leave with him?” he eventually asked. 

It was your turn to not speak. 

Not in a million years you’d admit to a stranger you wanted to make him jealous. A stranger that put his dick in you twice, but a stranger nevertheless. 

“We just talked a bit. I was bored.” “So I guess he didn’t make you cum.” “I don’t do hookups,” you said before realizing what you’ve just said. “I mean-,” you looked at him and he blinked back. Fuck. You told the hookups guy that you didn’t do hookups. 

“I mean, without being attracted to the person a lot. And that dude was not attractive,” you tried to explain fighting the urge to hide your face away. 

“Thank you. I’m also crazily attracted to you.” 

The car’s air became a little heavier and you thought that if you touched it with a single finger it would buzz as if made of electricity. 

The walk to the apartment complex was almost urgent. His hands didn't leave your body once when you reached the elevator as if he suddenly forgot what personal space was and when you got to his door he firstly slammed you against it, hands quick to get under your shirt. 

"Hey," you eyed the elevator's lights behind his back as he started to kiss your neck. "Someone's coming." "Let them come." The skin he sucked in made your eyes flutter and you whined feeling his fingers so close to where you needed them but so far away. "No, seriously. I think they're going to stop here." Doyoung hummed unbothered but you felt his hand press the code behind your back. Right when the elevator doors opened and you made eye contact with a cute little old lady, the door behind you opened too and you yelped falling backwards. Doyoung was quicker though and he held your waist, pulling you back into the kiss and closing the door with his heel. 

Shoes off and no time wasted, you were suddenly bent over some sort of furniture and your pants got pulled down. 

A single silent gasp left your mouth when you felt Doyoung's lips on the back of your thighs and when his fingertips grated at your sides pulling your panties down to your knees you started to pant. His hot breath tickled your pussy and you shifted in his hold. Doyoung's hands grabbed your ass to keep you in place and slapped one of your cheeks when he licked up a stripe between them. 

You whined once and put your head down and closed your eyes, fingers mindlessly grabbing whatever Doyoung kept on the cabinet. When he pushed his fingers inside, your back arched and his cologne fell to the side with the cap open. The sudden scent of it made you even wetter and Doyoung hummed appreciatively with his mouth full. 

"It feels so good," you whined again, imperceptibly grinding on him, brain not understanding when you got so horny all of a sudden. 

"Please please please make me cum this time," you begged, looking behind you and seeing his hands spreading you all out for him before his fingers could find spots inside of you that you weren't aware of having. 

"I kinda wish you'd beg some more," you heard the note of amusement in his voice.

His hands didn't stop though and before you could form any words your whole body contracted and lifted itself on the tiptoes, knees buckling and head light. Doyoung's airy breath met your spine and he held you in his arms to prevent you from slipping on the ground, kissing your back up slowly until meeting the shoulders. 

"Good girl," he brushed your ear with his lips and you remained with your eyes closed, breathing heavily and when he made you turn around, you felt your body weak as if it was made of jello. He pulled you towards himself and you heard his chuckle buzz inside of his chest. In a second he threw you on his shoulder and you let out a little cry, your limbs dangling around him. 

"I didn't know you were this strong."

He walked a few steps and turned left inside a dark corridor. You tried to look around but you barely noticed anything before he gently placed you down to sit on the bed. 

"You don't know a lot of things about me."

When you raised your head to meet his face you smiled tiredly. 

"I don't even know your name."

He tilted his head to the side amused. "Doyoung."

"Doyoung," you repeated, feeling the sounds on your tongue. 

It felt very right. 

Then his eyes fell on your naked legs and you sucked the air in, suddenly rolling in his bed, one piece of blanket to cover you up. 

Doyoung, still standing by the bed, put his hands on the hips and furrowed his eyebrows.

"I'm here with my pussy all out. That's so embarrassing,” you explained. 

"Yeah. I've just seen it up close just one minute ago." 

"I'm having post nut clarity," you added, voice muffled and only the top of your head poking out the impromptu burrito. 

"Well, I'm not having any post nut clarity since I didn't nut, so to me, it's not embarrassing."

"Oh my God you're right!" you eyed his crotch and sat up. 

"It's alright. I didn’t plan to do anything else anyway. Just wanted to cook you dinner actually since I’ve already eaten," he sat near you chuckling and took off his shoes. "My mom would hit me in the head if she knew I walked up to the bedroom with these-," but then he gasped softly as you placed a kiss to his nape. Your arms wrapped his torso in a back hug just as your legs did with his waist, draping them in his thighs. His hands automatically started to palm your knees as you made your way towards the base of his neck. 

“I don’t have any condoms,” he whispered as to stop you. 

Your fingers found the hem of his shirt very quickly and you lifted it, loving the way it ruffled his hair after you threw it somewhere on the floor. Having his bare back in front of you made you lose track for a moment and when you touched his chest you realized it was the first time that you actually saw him naked. 

“We don’t need them for what I want to do to you,” you murmured. 

He breathed in shakily. “Well, we’re responsible adults so you have to know that I also don’t do hookups so I’m completely clean but if you don’t want to--ah shit-,” he almost whined when you let your hand down his abs to palm his crotch slowly. 

He turned so cute all of sudden that your tummy did backflips as you kissed his jawline. 

“Are you saying that you want to fuck me raw?” you whispered amused. 

His cock twitched under his pants and he bit his lower lip.

“Does the thought turn you on, Doyoung? Feeling me around you, soft and wet until you can’t take it anymore? Huh?” You cooed, pouting your lips as you pronounced his name, savouring it on your tongue. 

His breathing increased and you wondered how he still kept it all together. 

“Cumming inside of me? Having your warm cum spill out-,”

He turned around suddenly and you let him push you down on the bed but only for a moment. The kisses you started to litter on his neck made his hold weaker and he threw his head into the pillow as you got on top of him. You kissed his chest slowly, then went down until you could finally pass your tongue on that single vein under his navel’s skin. 

"I'm so on edge that I might cum only with a single touch," he breathed out and you smiled on his stomach at his honest side, whining a little when he slid his fingers into your hair as if to urge you to go on quicker. 

"You should have told me," you sat on his thighs and slowly fumbled with his belt. 

He bit his lower lip and watched the little show you put on for him.  

"Well, now you know and you still want to torture me like this."

You lifted one corner of your mouth as you finally unbuttoned his pants. 

"I think you deserve it, don't you think?" 

He shook his head. "Not one bit. I've been good to you."

"Oh really? Then why don't you show me again what a good boy you can be and beg me to finally touch you?" 

"You really think you can use my ways with me?" 

You opened your mouth to reply but every word died in your throat as he reached down and pulled out his cock, pumping it up himself, a single shaking sigh of relief coming out of his mouth. "Shit-," he closed his eyes and pushed his head back, exposing his neck as his adam apple went up and down. You couldn't take your eyes off him and the sounds he started to make hit you right between the legs. His tip poked out of his fist as he fucked himself and for the first time in your life you were dying to suck a cock. 

"Doyoung-," you breathed out but his hisses made you gulp, feeling your mouth dry at the sudden spurts of cum on his lower stomach. 

"Shit," his chest rose and fell heavily and his eyes looked black underneath his heavy lids. Without being able to take it anymore you bent down and licked his tip sending shots of electricity through all of his body. 

"Ah- Y/N-," 

You sucked his cock clean and, letting it out with a lewd pop, you smirked.  

"Now you're going to take it."

And he took it well, cupping your head as it bobbed up and down, not without the most sinful sounds you've ever heard a man emit. As he placed his other hand on your cheek, you slid your own fingers down your stomach and reached your aching clit.

"Ride me?" he caressed your face with his thumbs and you looked up, basking in his fucked up expression. 

With a wet sound, you let his cock out, licking his tip once to break the string of saliva attached to it and moved upwards on his body. 

His hands were quick to grab your sides and when you started to grind on him he inhaled shakily, eyes piercing the way his shaft slid through your lips. Then he grabbed your shirt and roughly pulled it up, making you discard it in a second. 

One hand to guide your ass and one hand to grope at your breasts and you were almost cumming again. And when he reached behind you and you felt his cock poke at your entrance you lost strength in your arms and leaned down on his chest, your breasts squeezed and your skin rubbing on each other when he started to thrust into you. 

His hips' movements were deep and sharp and when you raised your bust enough for your nipples to rub on his chest he squeezed your ass and spanked it once making you moan loudly and fall back on him. So near to your orgasm, you dug your fingers into his arms not worrying about the little marks your nails left on his skin. 

And then he stopped with a grunt. 

You whined and opened your eyes to see him smirk.

"Fuck you, not again," you whispered breathlessly. "Yeah, fuck me."

And you bit your lower lip, lifting yourself up by putting your palms on his chest and started to bounce on his cock. Doyoung started to breathe with his mouth and he let his hands rest on his sides enjoying the way you were so desperately trying to chase your high. 

Your thighs were burning and your mind was clouded but you didn't stop and when you started to call his name, Doyoung finally grabbed your waist again, taking the lead and finally sending you over the edge. 

You finally cried out and pushed your face into the crook of his neck biting down on his skin as he kept going, not giving you a moment to breathe. 

And when you heard him choke against your ear too, a string of profanities lingering in his lips you felt his hot cum fill you up, but getting slowly fucked back in with his last thrusts. 

You remained like that both breathless for some time, his hands gently cupping your face to look at you. His eyebrows furrowed and he quickly dried your wet eyes. 

"Are you okay? Was that too much?" 

The concern in his voice made your heart swell and you shook your head. 

"I'm feeling very good," you smiled and his expression relaxed a bit. 

As he pulled out you felt his semen slide on your thigh and pool where your stomaches we're meeting. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes, Doyoung. I was just getting frustrated as always when I’m around you.” 

His hands went up and down your back as if soothing your skin. “I love how my name sounds on your lips. It feels like I’ve somehow waited my whole life to hear it.” 

You blinked a few times, the sudden sweet words so weird in his mouth that you raised your head to look at him. 

He looked back as shocked as you. 

"Wow, I feel so sticky," he changed the subject as you opened your lips to talk. You eyed the little buds of sweat on his forehead and imagined you looked as spent as him. 

"Are you also having post nut clarity?" "Yes. Everything is clear." "What's clear?" "This was one of the best nuts of my life and I want to do it again."

_____

Unable to stand on your own legs without shaking you remained sprawled on Doyoung's bed for a while, eyes heavy with sleep. 

"The groceries are still in the car," he said while zipping his pants. 

He offered to take a shower together but your growling tummy interrupted him so now you were alone in the bathtub, lazily lathering up your skin and waiting for him to come back from the parking lot. 

Relaxed from the good fuck and the hot water, you looked around curious, checking out his toiletries as if they could tell you more about this mysterious Doyoung guy. 

Perhaps it was too soon but as you collected the soapy water to blow on it you felt like falling in love a little. 

A little smile crept on your lips when you heard the entrance door open and close with a thud and you looked in the mirror to check on yourself before Doyoung could barge in. As if he didn't fuck you while you were looking crazy just moments before that. 

"That was very quick-," you started but squealed and put your hands on your chest as a man entered the bathroom not looking like your Doyoung at all. 

"Oh my God!" the guy jumped back a little before starting to laugh. 

"Who are you?" 

"You scared the shit out of me. Why are you here in the dim light?" the young man kept going without answering. 

You blinked at him. "It's relaxing."

"I'm Jaemin. Doyoung's flatmate," he finally explained and you wondered why he looked at you as if knowing you. "And you must be the winery girl."

You tilted your head to the side. "Winery girl? Do you know me?" 

"I kinda go out with your friend? The other winery girl?" 

You widened your eyes. "You're the BDSM guy?" 

For the first time since he entered the bathroom, Jaemin looked flustered. 

"Exactly what did she tell you about us?" he scratched the back of his head. 

You giggled. "My friend has been very happy lately. I know enough to make sure you're treating her well."

Jaemin's eyes lit up and you thought he was so cute to have a crush on your friend. Your mind suddenly thought of Doyoung and wondered if he might have a crush on you too. 

"Think of the devil," you murmured as Doyoung appeared behind Jaemin with the groceries bags. 

"You were thinking of me?" he smiled then suddenly realized the whole situation. "Why the hell are you looking at my naked girl?" he tried to tackle the other. Jaemin chuckled and took a few steps back in the corridor. 

"Had no idea she was here, I swear!"

_____

My girl. 

You were sitting timidly at the dinner table, wearing Doyoung's clothes and looking at Jaemin's back as he prepared the food. The water running in the bathroom and Doyoung's faint singing voice made you chuckle. 

He said, my girl. 

You put your hands to your cheeks. 

"You really like him."

You jolted and raised your head to see Jaemin comforting eyes. 

Batting your lashes you wondered what kind of expression you had on and with a little note of panic, you wondered if it was that easy for Doyoung to see it too. 

"This is a secret between us," Jaemin started lowering his voice, "but I think he likes you too. You really look like his soulmate now that I think about it."

You were about to melt but his last words made you snap out of the dream. 

"His soulmate?" you questioned, suddenly very interested. 

Jaemin shook his head as if to not give him any importance but upon seeing your curious eyes he placed the lid on the pot and sat down in front of you. 

"So it was new years," he started and you gulped. He then stopped to giggle, remembering the scene as if it played in front of himself. "We were drunk as fuck. We went to like three different parties and I was wasted. I don't know if you're familiar with the place but there's a tarot reader downtown. We were bored so we decided to go there."

Your head felt suddenly very light. "And what happened?" you asked with a faint voice. 

"Oh, we made a fool out of ourselves for sure, but the woman was nice and did a reading for Doyoung. I don't remember much but I kinda remember the physical descriptions. And you scarily look like that a lot." 

You swallowed again and you felt your mouth dry. 

"And does Doyoung remember?" 

"Remember what?" 

You gasped when Doyoung appeared on your side, a towel around his neck as he used one end to dry the back of his head. 

"I was telling Y/N about the soulmate thing, you know? When the lady told you that they'd be coming around summer?" 

Doyoung's pupils trembled a little but then he turned around and headed towards the fridge. 

"Ah yeah. I don't believe any of that though," he said and poured himself a glass of water. 

You looked at his profile as he drank and then noticed Jaemin's pitiful expression. 

"I got a reading on new year's too in the exact same place," you confessed and the silence afterwards felt heavy. 

"And your soulmate was someone that looks like me?" Doyoung joked and Jaemin giggled awkwardly. 

Your heart stung very painfully but you let out a dry chuckle too. 

“I don’t believe in it either. But it was very fun,” you lied. 

“I should have done a reading too,” Jaemin commented. 

"I'm starving," Doyoung lifted the lid and his friend got closer to stir again. 

Their voices talking about ingredients felt muffled as you tried hard to swallow your stupid tears.

_____

You had no idea why you believed the soulmates story. 

Maybe you were lonely or just plain bored but the idea of having a designated person you could be with during your lifetime felt very comforting. Especially since the Lady told you to have faith. 

Doyoung seemed to fit every category and you were so insanely attracted to him that it did not make sense for him to not be your soulmate. But do soulmates appear then disappear from your life, leaving behind nothing besides your memories of them?

Maybe you should have given him your number after you left his apartment that night, but reflecting about it with a cold mind, you did well to not seek him out given his reaction to the whole soulmates discourse. 

He was definitely not your soulmate. It shouldn’t have been this hard. 

Looking at your desk you sighed at the amount of work you had to do for the day and you imagined Doyoung walking through your door just like soulmates in movies would do. Then you shook your head trying to get those intrusive thoughts out of your head. 

Enough. 

But it was so difficult, especially as your eyes kept falling on his cologne, partially hidden behind your pens. 

You grabbed it suddenly intending to throw it out. 

"Oh sorry, I made this fall," you eyed the bottle of perfume on the cabinet by the entrance as you put on your shoes. With quick hands you grabbed it but before placing the cap on, you brought it to your face and smelled it again. "It's very nice." Doyoung, seeing you out, was leaning on the wall. "Do you like it?" You nodded. "You can keep it." You hesitated, wondering if he was joking or not. "Think of me," his eyebrows wiggled amused and if you wouldn't have been so exhausted you would have begged him to take you against the same cabinet again. 

Now, eyes closed, you were thinking of him indeed as you smelled that cologne, a shy hand slowly creeping up your thigh. 

No. You weren't about to masturbate at work but the temptation was so big that you jolted as if awoken from a dream when your phone rang. 

You breathed in and out as if to calm down and picked it up. 

"Y/N speaking."

"Hi, soulmate."

His voice made you physically shiver and your heart started to beat so fast inside your ears that you were afraid Doyoung could hear it too. 

"How did you get my number?" 

"I don't have your number. This is the winery's one and I googled it."

You bit your lower lip feeling stupid. 

"Yeah, yeah, you're right. Sorry, I'm a little tired."

"Have you been working a lot lately?" 

"Yes," you replied and it was true, but it wasn't work that clouded and exhausted your mind. 

"You need a pause then. Do you want me to help you relax?" 

His low and amused tone made your legs shift and you changed their position. 

"What do you have in mind?" 

"Are you alone?" 

"Yes," you almost whispered. 

"Then close your eyes for me."

You did timidly and the increase of your breath probably was a confirmation for him that you listened because he went on soon after. 

"Now touch your neck slowly with your fingertips. Go down to your clavicle then gently cup your breasts."

"This is making me shiver," you breathed out. 

"Good. I bet you're wearing a thin bralette and your perked nipples are poking through."

You sighed as you touched them and smiled at Doyoung's correct intuition.  

"Yes," you replied. 

"Can you play with them as I would if I were there?" 

You whined and bit your lower lip trying to resist the urge. 

"Doyoung-," this is a little inappropriate and honestly, kinda rude of you, especially since you went mia suddenly and now you want to pick up from where you left, you intended to say but didn’t manage to. 

"Do it," he commanded and your hand flew to your breasts and started to play with your nipples as if it didn't belong to you anymore. 

"Good girl. Does it feel good?" 

"Yes," you whispered. 

"Speak up love."

"I can't be loud."

"Oh really? Then, now slip one hand under your panties and rub your clit. I bet you're soaking wet and let's see if you'll be able to not be loud." 

His voice sounded like a hypnotic melody and you didn't even question it when you found yourself with the fingers gently pressing on your clit in little circles. Your breath got quicker and heavier, the grip on the phone was even stronger. 

"Doyoung-," 

"Yes, babe? Does it feel good?" he cooed. 

"It feels so fucking good-," 

"Can you slip a finger in for me too, love?" 

You nodded even if he couldn't see you and you did as he wished, the stretch so unsatisfying in comparison to Doyoung's girth to make you whine frustrated. 

"I- I wished you fucked me instead-," 

"Okay then," he replied calmly and for a split second, you wondered if the whole phone sex thing was not something you weren’t good at to make him reply so dryly when the door to your office opened and Doyoung took his tongue out at you. 

His sudden presence made you so flustered that you promptly pulled your fingers away as if he caught you doing it instead of being the one ordering you around. 

"What are you doing here?" you put your phone down with a shaking hand. 

He walked lazily towards your desk and put a paper bag on it. "Brought you your clothes."

You looked at them. "How did you get in? My secretary-," 

"Told him I was your boyfriend."

You felt the air stop inside your lungs at his words but you couldn't do much as Doyoung suddenly bent down with hands on the desk and took your still wet fingers into his mouth. 

You gasped softly as he sucked on them slowly, letting his tongue collect every single drop of your wetness, his deep eyes flickering with amusement at your visible lust. 

And you were so horny that you didn't even question it when he grabbed your wrists and made you stand. You took a step towards him but he pulled you by the waist and turned you around, pushing you towards the desk with his hips and pressing himself into your ass until you were bent over. 

"You look amazing like this, just like a little slut waiting for my cock, ain't I right?"  

You gasped for air as he pressed one palm on your spine and the other slowly raised your skirt. 

"You keep dressing like this at work. No wonder your secretary was so upset to hear that I was your boyfriend. Do you want us to put on a little show for him? So he knows his place." 

His fingers drawing lines up and down your clothed pussy prevented you from forming any words and when you felt your panties slip to the side and heard Doyoung's zip you inhaled aching to feel him inside. 

But he didn't touch you where you wanted him to. 

"Answer me," he slapped your ass and you curved your neck up with a hiss. 

"If you finally fuck me good enough perhaps I'll be loud enough for him to hear me."

Another slap. 

"Are you being a brat now? Should I not make you cum just like-," 

"Nonononono please please no please--" the string of begging erupted out of you way too easily and it was interrupted by Doyoung's dry laugh and hard cock finally slipping inside. 

You exhaled deeply and he grunted, bottoming out until you felt his hip bones on your ass. 

He remained still then he snapped. 

"Fuck fuck Doyoung--ah!" you cried out. 

"Louder."

Your voice would have increased in volume without him ordering that but it certainly added to the whole desk creaking and skin slapping symphony. 

One of his hands was palming your ass while the other pulled you towards him by the waist, but then he changed his mind and grabbed your arms by the elbows, pulling your torso up and making you curve your spine. 

You cried out his name again and stared at his reflection in the window in front of you. Eyebrows furrowed and a couple of strands of his hair fallen from the styled fringe made his gaze even deeper when you locked eyes. 

Then he smiled wickedly and a shiver shook your body knowing that nothing good will come out of that. And soon enough he let go of your arms and held your bust instead while the other wrapped your throat. You gasped for air and he attached his teeth to your shoulder sucking deeply and slowly, so different to the pace of his quick hips. 

Your desk phone rang and Doyoung held you harder as an indication to not even think about it. Not that you even cared about besides the way his cock was stretching you all out. 

The string of your choked moans just increased their tempo until you shuddered in his arms with a cry, so hard and so suddenly that his hips stopped and he let go of your throat in a second, holding your body and breathing deeply with you until you didn't whine anymore. 

A kiss on the cheek then on the neck and you turned your head around, searching for his lips. 

Your phone rang again and he smiled. 

"Answer."

"But you're still-," 

He grabbed the phone, placing it to your ear and you had nothing else to do than breathe heavily and greet with a shaking and hoarse voice. 

You understood the first three words of the person talking on the other side before Doyoung pushed you on the desk again and started to thrust into you, this time seeking his own high. 

You gritted your teeth and rotated your torso to be able to place your palm on his stomach and push your nail into his shirt. 

The look in your eyes just made him even more amused. 

“Yes, yes, no, could you please repeat that?” 

And even if the voice on the other line kindly repeated itself, your eyes rolled inside of your head and your body moved back and forth on the desk making you not understand a single thing. 

It was so highly unprofessional and inappropriate that it made your blood boil with pleasure. You hung up, making a mental note to call back and use the ‘line went dead’ excuse. 

Doyoung didn’t like that independence a single bit and he made sure to show you as you suddenly found yourself standing, no cock to stretch you out anymore and his hands on your waist turning your around. 

“On your knees.” 

You slipped down in front of him with hands on his stomach then you let them fall on his soft suit pants. 

The veins on his hand were popping when he grabbed his cock and lightly hit your lips with its tip. You let out your tongue and let it bounce on it, leaning in to be able to catch in between your lips. 

Doyoung tutted and took half a step back making your suck on air. 

“When and how I say so,” he murmured and got closer again. 

His other hand grabbed your head and kept you in place, fully controlling the way he pushed his shaft between your lips, slowly smearing his precum on them. 

“I really want to let my cum slide down your throat right now.” 

You opened your mouth eagerly and he smiled wickedly. 

It reached the back of your throat in one go and you gagged, pressing your nails into his thighs. Heavy on your tongue, you couldn’t move so it was Doyoung to slowly thrust his hips, increasing his movements until you started to drool. 

“Fuck, you’re so good-,” 

Short-breathed and fingers tightening in your hair you could feel him reaching his orgasm soon. 

You lifted your gaze up and when he pulled out to make your breath you cupped his balls with one hand and took him inside of your mouth again. 

He choked and started to grunt, meeting your movements with his erratic ones until he went suddenly still and you whined feeling his cum hit the back of your throat. 

You swallowed quickly making him hiss as he thrust a couple of times more and he pulled out slowly, a string of saliva and his seed to connect your tongue to his tip. 

“You’re amazing. You know that?” he whispered with a raspy voice. His fingers caressed your cheeks and lips as you looked up at him panting.

_____

“Do you want me to hit him with my car?” 

Knowing him, it wasn’t a joke so you lightly hit his thigh. “Jeno!”

He chuckled. 

Meeting your soulmate - it should have been electrical, like two magnets meeting each other. 

The first moment you saw his shoulders, you knew it was him. Before you even saw his face and learned his name, you sighed in relief. Finally, you’ve found him and you were at home. 

Then why was it so difficult to just be with Doyoung?

He fucked you good and kissed your lips. He made sure you were okay after fucking your throat and even massaged your feet as you tried to catch your breath on the couch inside your office. 

“Can you please bring us, like, something to drink and some snacks?” Doyoung opened the door and talked to a very mortified secretary. 

“Sure,” he suddenly got up and looked around as if not knowing which planet he was on.

“Why are you torturing that poor boy?” you rolled your eyes when Doyoung plopped back on the couch near him. “Now he’ll want to resign from the job and he was quite good at it.” 

“I think he liked it. I know a post nut face when I see one and he definitely had some fun under that desk.” 

The secretary entered the office and his lips were tight as he placed the tray with coffee on the little table in front of you. 

“Thank you,” you smiled kindly at him. 

“No sugar for you ma’am and one sugar for you sir,” he announced before leaving as quickly as he came in. 

You leaned in and took your mug, sighing when you felt it’s warmth heat your skin.

“How did he know I take my coffee with one sugar?” Doyoung furrowed his eyebrows while doing the same. 

You looked at him and shrugged. “I told you he’s good at his job.”  

And you were thankful that the boy didn’t leave because now as you talked to Jeno in your office, weeks after you’ve seen Doyoung in there, you really needed someone to do your job. 

“I’m just not even concentrating much. I think I caught feelings for him while he only saw this as-- fucking,” you threw your hands in the air once and sighed, sitting down at your desk. 

Jeno hummed pensively. “Well, he strikes me as someone too romantic for that. People who just hookup don’t behave as he does. They just fuck and leave.” 

You rubbed the bridge of your nose. “I just think he was being considerate. You can’t fuck someone’s mouth then leave them there like that.” 

Jeno hummed again. “But he did call you my girl and he called himself your boyfriend.” 

You looked up. “My girl as the girl that I fuck and my boyfriend only to make the secretary let him in.”

Your friend pursed his lips as if considering that side of events. 

“How do you even know all of these details? I don’t remember telling you any of this before,” you chuckled. 

Jeno cleared his voice. “You told me. Are you having a loss of memory too now?” 

You sighed. “Maybe.” 

The young boy cleared his voice again. “Anyway! Plan. Send him nudes.” 

“What?” you exclaimed. 

You could go around your sweet friend Jeno suggesting you to fuck Doyoung when he was the Rabbit boy but suggesting you to send the dude nudes? 

Seeing his pink cheeks Jeno must have suddenly realized what he has just said too and regretted it. 

“Trust me. He’s an air sign. They like sexting and mind fucking and all of that stuff. Now I have to go.”

You looked at him standing up. “Since when are you into astrology? Also, where are you going? We were supposed to have lunch together!” 

“Sext him and send him a good coochie pic. Bye, love you,” he left like the wind and you leaned back in your chair perplexed.

_____

"Do you trust me?" 

"Yeah," his voice was a whisper and it got engulfed by the jingle of handcuffs in your hands. 

You were so beautiful and intoxicating that Doyoung found himself having difficulties breathing when you slowly started to crawl on the bed towards him. 

“I’m glad you wore the lingerie I sent you,” he whispered, hands reaching towards you to feel the material under his fingertips. But you grabbed them with a sudden force and Doyoung groaned, finding himself pinned to the bed instead.  

“No touching,” you purred. 

The young man sighed, feeling his cock twitching on his lower stomach. 

You eyed it and smiled like a cat. “You want me to touch you, babe?” 

Doyoung nodded. “Please?” 

You licked your lips and leaned down, your lips so close to his cock to make him audible whine. A little bit. A little bit more and he would feel-

And then he woke up shaking in his bed. 

“Shit.” Doyoung closed his eyes again, rolling on his back with a certain difficulty. 

His cock was so hard that it was almost painful and he felt short-breathed. 

He looked at his ceiling again and he blinked twice when he realized by the hue of it that his phone lit up. 

With a groan he extended his arm to the side and grabbed it, narrowing his eyes at the bright screen. 

Then he choked and sat up.

“Fuck!” Doyoung exclaimed upon seeing his phone turn dark in his hands. 

With a quick roll of the body, he put his palms on the ground looking for his charger. It took him some other swears and grunts to finally charge it but the phone remained black.

“What the fuck,” he sighed, hitting his head into the pillow.

_____

It was in the way you walked, the way your feet touched the floor. 

Or maybe it was the way the air floated between your fingers when you moved your wrists as if grabbing something in Doyoung’s chest and pulling him towards you. 

The line of your back extended up until your neck, the line of your jaw, your cheeks puffing up when you laughed and your eyes closing for a second. The sound of it making his heart beat faster and a little smile creeping on his lips although he was in a very bad mood that day. 

The people you were talking to stopped looking at you and stared somewhere behind your back instead. 

Mouth still open while explaining to them that blue and red looked disgusting together, you turned around to see what caught their attention and you met Doyoung’s face. 

Your breath hitched and you had to swallow a few times before being able to speak. 

“Hey,” you straightened your back as he approached you. 

“It’s time for a lunch break,” he announced without batting an eye. 

You blinked a few times, trying to process his presence there all of a sudden. 

“You’re dismissed,” he spoke to the creative team and they obeyed him, walking away slowly and chuckling between themselves. 

You waited for them to not eavesdrop and huffed before whispering. “Who do you think you are?” 

“Your soulmate.” 

He slipped his hand in yours and started to walk towards the exit. You let yourself be dragged amused for the first steps then stopped. 

“My bag.” 

Doyoung rolled his eyes and raised his other hand that was already holding it. 

“Come on. I’m starving.” 

“Where are we going?” you asked the back of his head as you were already descending the stairs. “Why are you here?” 

“I’m annoyed,” he replied as if that was a sufficient explanation and opened the passenger seat’s door for you. "So I wanted to see you because it puts me in a good mood."

You looked at him for a few moments then sighed, trying to conceal your flustered emotions. 

“Why are you annoyed? Because you realized that leaving me on read last night was stupid?” you put on your seatbelt. 

When you raised your head Doyoung’s palms were on both sides of your face and his lips on yours. You exhaled softly, not expecting any of it so suddenly, then timidly you rested your hand on his knee. The luscious material of his suit was delicate under your fingertips so you absentmindedly started to draw little circles on it, imitating the pattern Doyoung’s tongue was making yours dance in. When he pulled away slightly you managed to look at his eyes. He placed another peck on your lips, then another. By the time he placed the third one you were giggling. The corners of his mouth raised too and you cupped his face and he flinched imperceptibly. 

“I thought you wanted to slap me.” 

“There are many reasons why I would want to slap you but not today.” 

“Not today.” 

“Be ready anytime.” 

“You too,” he kissed your knuckles before putting his hands on the wheel. “But like on the butt.”

The engire roared as Doyoung turned the keys. 

“My phone died,” he explained. 

“Yeah, okay.” 

“I swear.”

The engine roared again and you drove away from the winery's parking lot. 

You sighed, crossing your arms on your chest. 

“It’s okay. Only because you’re sweet.”  

"Am I sweet?" 

"You are." 

"You're sweet too so I can't wait to eat you out again."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "Okay, you went there." 

But he didn't do anything you'd expect him to do. Entering his apartment calmly, you both let the shoes at the entrance and you sighed to feel his soft living room rug under your bare feet. 

No bending, no pushing and no hands to knead your flesh. 

You tilted your head to the side amused as he placed your bag on the couch and ventured towards the kitchen. 

"Is Jaemin home?" you inquired. Maybe that was the reason he didn't want to rearrange your guts that day. 

Doyoung took away his jacket and slowly rolled up his sleeves. Your eyes followed his movements and although you weren't horny one bit before you saw him, now you would have been able to go on for multiple rounds with no rest in between upon seeing just his forearms. You took away your jacket too and expected him to do something already but he turned around and entered the kitchen instead. 

"I'm making spaghetti."

You blinked at his profile as he retrieved a pan and a pot, filling the latter with water. 

"Did you really bring me here for lunch?" you couldn't help but ask as you sat down at the table. 

"Yeah. Why? Is that strange?" 

You shrugged. "I don't know. You've always sought me for other things."

He faked an offended expression. "I fed you dinner last time."

You smiled. "But you also fucked me."

"You want me to fuck you after spaghetti?" 

"Not necessarily. I like just hanging out with you, but only you like it as well."

As if sensing something in your tone, his amusement wore off when he finally started to cut the onions. 

"Of course. Why wouldn't I like it?" 

"I mean, we've never really openly discussed this," you gestured between you. "Hell, I fucked you three times before knowing your name."

"You've never asked for it."

"Yeah, well, my mouth was busy doing something else." 

He smiled a little and let the onions fall into the hot pan, stirring a few times and opening the fridge to retrieve the tomato sauce. 

"How do you want to discuss it?" 

His voice got quieter and you had the hunch that he really didn't like having serious talks or emotional ones. Just like, well, just like your supposed soulmate. The thought made your stomach knot up. 

"I know this might sound a little funny, but like, what are we?" 

Doyoung added the tomato sauce and sprinkled salt, pepper and hot pepper flakes on it before stirring. His domestic look made your chest hurt in ways you've never experienced with him before and suddenly you were afraid to know what he had to say. 

"I don't know, but we can be something starting now."

You sighed a little. "Like, friends with benefits?" 

Doyoung's expression didn't change but his throat moved as he swallowed. The water started to boil and he put the spaghetti in, pushing them inside as they softened. 

"You want us to be friends with benefits?" 

No. 

Yes. 

But like no. 

You wanted the friends, you wanted the benefits, but you wanted more. 

Would you scare him away if you said that? Would he retreat just like he did when you mentioned the soulmates discourse? 

"What about you?"

Dancing around each other like two assassins about to throw the first dagger you let the silence be the witness of it. 

"I like you," he hit you first but it was no knife. It was light just like a kiss and your eyelids fluttered. 

"Really?" 

He let out a single soft chuckle. "Yeah. Why are you so surprised?" 

You gulped and looked around not knowing what to say. 

"It's just-- your whole soulmate discourse made it look like you wouldn't be romantically interested in me at all."

Doyoung didn’t speak for a moment as if trying to remember, then nodded. 

"I don't believe in soulmates." 

He placed the lid on the sauce and let it slowly cook. 

"I believe in choices. And I'm choosing you I guess."

"Don't you think that maybe you're conditioned to choose me because I'm your soulmate?" you tried to joke but Doyoung didn't smile. 

"And where would the fun be in that? My freedom? I think the universe might give you a path but you're free to follow it or not."

"Of course. But isn't it comforting to know that the universe is taking care of you that way?" 

"Maybe. Perhaps we're actually soulmates and we've met like ones but now it's our duty to do something about it. I can decide not to see you anymore. What's the universe going to do about it?" 

"Make me get into your way and annoy you?" you smiled and his lips curved too.  

"What I'm trying to say is that I think we're making our soulmates. I decide that you're my soulmate and we mould ourselves to fit each other. No one is a perfect fit."

You didn't know what to say. 

"I tried all of this time you know? I actively sought you out and maybe to you it was fate but we wouldn't be here if I didn't come to you. But you've just been waiting."

His words stung your heart and it felt like a scold. 

"I just--it's not like I don't care. I also like you. A lot. I was just--hoping for it to be soulmate like, you know? Maybe that was childish of me." 

"What did the Lady tell you? As your last words?" 

"To have faith."

"Me too. But to me, faith is putting in the effort and believing in good results. Not waiting for stuff to happen."

"I guess you're right."

"Would you have let me go if you didn't think I was the soulmate you were looking for?" 

You blinked a few times unable to speak. 

Yeah. 

You would have and the sudden realization felt so scary that your spine started to shiver. 

He has been speaking without looking at you and at your silence, he turned his head towards you. When he noticed your glossy eyes he let the pan go and walked towards you.

"Why? No. Why are you crying?" he kneeled in front of you, talking with a soft voice and he placed his hands on your shoulders. 

You shook your head shocked to see a few drops on your thighs and quickly patted your cheeks dry. Then you let out a timid laugh. 

"I don't know what happened. I got emotional all of a sudden. It's fine."

Doyoung sighed and nibbled at his lower lip. 

"What I'm trying to say is, even if someone came to me now and told me that you're not my soulmate and they are instead, I would not care. I'm still choosing whoever I want and that's you."

You felt your chin shake by itself and hated the fact that you wore your emotions on your sleeve like that. 

"I'm sorry."

"Why?" 

You shrugged. "I don't know. I feel like I fucked up something." 

Doyoung waited, his fingers gently running your arms. 

"I would have probably made the mistake of letting you go-," you sobbed, "and at first since things have been so weird and not necessarily easy I didn’t try enough-," 

His eyes softened and he pulled you into a hug. 

"You're here now. Why are you worrying about things that could have happened?" 

You wrapped his neck and hid your face into his shirt. His familiar scent culled you and you bathed in his warmth. 

"I feel like I'm very childish right now and the lady told me that my soulmate liked me for being a boss woman-," 

"I like all of our sides, you fool," he pulled you away and kissed your forehead. 

"But you’d like me more if I tied you up." "You’d also like me more if I tied you up." "I actually like it when you're subby." "See? And the lady told me that you liked me being dominant." "I do love it when you're dominant," you timidly circled his chest with your finger. "Hm, maybe I should-," 

"The pasta!" you yelled pointing your finger and Doyoung jolted turning around towards the stove. 

The pasta was completely fine and he sighed closing his eyes. 

"I thought it was on fire," he complained with a whiny tone as he turned the stove off. Quickly he drained the spaghetti and threw it in the tomato sauce stirring it afterwards. With the corner of his eye, he saw you stand. 

"Come here."

You giggled and took a few quick steps back. 

His eyes were furious and paired with his smiling expression he looked like a tornado. 

"Come here," he repeated. 

You shook your head. 

"I said-," he managed to grab you and throw you on his shoulder, "-come here."

"Fuck!" you squealed. "Yeah, fuck, that's exactly what I'm going to do to you now."

One second you were standing and the other you were lying down on the couch with the most aggressive Doyoung you’ve ever seen attached to your neck. 

The whines came quickly as he sucked your skin inside the mouth, not worrying for a second if it might become sore. As you grabbed his belt his iron fingers clasped your wrists together and you found yourself pinned with your arms above your head. Your chest rose and fell fast looking at his dark eyes under the unstyled fringe. 

“Be a good girl and perhaps I’ll think about making you cum,” he whispered through his teeth. You squirmed under him and found yourself breathless. 

“Did you hear me?” his other hand fell back the exact moment he bit down on your clothed nipple. 

“Are you not wearing a bra?” 

You giggled. “I manifested you coming to see me today. And you did.” 

His eyes were dark as they analyzed you and for an instance, you thought he’d burst into tears. 

But then he reached the hem of your blouse and lifted it up in a second, biting your nipple, letting his tongue circle it afterwards, soothing the sudden sweet pain then biting on it again, stretching it out, sucking on it, giving the same treatment to the other one. His fingers intertwined yours when he felt your wrists try to lift up from the couch and he pushed them down even harder than before. 

“Do I have to tie you all up? Huh? I bet you’d like it, right?” 

His breath was hot on your lips and so was his tongue when he took it out and slowly outlined them with his wet tip. You opened your mouth and took out your tongue too with a little moan, trying to catch him into a kiss, but he chuckled lightly and let you feel the air instead. Another whine as you lifted your head to reach him but he was quick to push you down by pressing his fingers on your throat. You choked lightly and he pouted. 

“Bad baby girls don’t get to kiss,” he murmured. "But if you really want it-" he pressed one finger on your lower lip and opened your mouth. Y

our thighs tightened their hold around his waist and you pulled him towards you even more. The trail of saliva falling on your tongue from his mouth added somehow to the wetness between your legs. 

You wanted to be a good girl. You wanted to be a good girl so badly, pleasing him and letting him whatever he wanted to you. 

Swallowing slowly, you opened your mouth for more and he finally shoved his tongue inside, kissing you deeply, grunting as he let your hands go and you were quick to let them slide under his shirt. 

His skin was hot and your fingers icy cold. He hissed when you circled his nipples and bit your lip. 

"Maybe you should warm your hands by doing something useful." He took his cock out and-

"Okay, that's enough!" Jeno threw a cloth on the crystal ball. 

"Ah! Come on! I was having so much fun," the Lady complained, jingling her earrings as she giggled. 

The boy sitting across the table made a throwing up sound. "Also, why are you still looking like that? It's creeping me out," he commented. 

The Lady looked at the mirror on her right and chuckled again. 

"I like it when Haechannie is like this," Jaemin appeared from behind him and playfully kissed his cheek. 

Jeno made another gag sound. "Gross."

Haechan shook his head and as the boys blinked he was back to his boyish looks. "I'll never get used to this," Jaemin murmured as he was not holding long hair anymore. 

"Good job guys. We did it again," Haechan stood up and yawned, lifting his arms in a satisfying stretch. "If Jaemin didn't get back home that time she was over then it might have been quicker," Jeno lifted his legs on the table and leaned down on the chair. 

“This is my first job! It was very tough for me actually,” Jaemin complained. 

“Hard for you? I had to be myself, the winery girl, the secretary-,” he counted on his fingers. 

“I had to be the cashier and I almost lost it when Jaemin said he couldn’t wait to taste your wet pussy-,” Haechan threw his head back and laughed. Jaemin imitated him soon after.

“Did you see Doyoung’s face? He wasn’t into it at all.” 

"I miss being a Gryffindor. This universe is boring as fuck,” Jeno rolled his eyes even if he was also smiling a little. 

"The next one might be as boring as this my dear friends," Haechan sat back down and brought out his book. 

Jeno groaned. "Can't we have a normal life for once? I had to pretend I was a girl. And not only. The thought of Y/N thinking I was doing BDSM stuff with that guy-," he indicated a very amused Jaemin, "-took a toll on my health." 

"I'm sorry I'm not a shapeshifter too. I would have loved to be the girl in this relationship. Also, it was you that told her we were doing BDSM stuff, not me.”

“It’s because I forgot to fully shift my arms! She thought I was-,”

"Quiet."

As Haechan spoke the guys immediately stopped talking and Jeno put his feet down. 

"The next one is going to be a hard one. We're going to a dark place."

He closed the book.

"To hell, boys."

[vankaar]

I’ve seen that amazing (awesome, breathtaking!! *___*)!art of Steve in ancient roman’s clothes while my hormones were wackos and I consequently fell into the superfun rabbit hole of ancient roman’s swear words and this drabble happened. Sorry for the English and bad latin (I bet my archeologists friends -who actually knows latin- would wack me with a newspaper if they ever read this xD ) no beta, we die like Julius Caesar.

———

Futuo, he was screwed. If they would catch him he was totally dead or worse, they’ll send him off to the mines.

Edyrn looked around frantically, dark eyes wide in the dim light of the cave, searching for a place to hide.

Nope, nothing.

So he grabbed the bigger piece of broken terrracotta he could see on the ground and lounged.

The man looked surprised by his attack, his wind momentarily knocked out of him as his back hit the cave’s wall, Edyrn putting all his body weight into pinning him, sharp piece of pottery, trembling near the pale throat.

“Edyrn! Stop!” Shouted the familiar voice of one of his little friends.

What was the little menace doing here? Wonderful, the rest of the gang were gawking behind him.

“It’s me, it’s Drustanus,” he said with the tone one uses to calm a spooked horse. “This is Stephanus, he’s not gonna hurt you.”

“I’m cool, comes! I’m cool” said the man putting his hands up in a placating gesture. To Edyrn total bafflement, he didn’t seem to be putting up any fight. Weird, everyone in the polis knew that Stephanus was a skilled fighter.

He squinted, trying to read into those pretty hazel eyes if the other was being sincere or if it was all some rich peoples’ plot at his expense.

Edyrn knew the little parvulus were there to help him but what in Hades’ realm was that patrician son of a scortor doing with them?

Looking at his plush, pomegranate lips, slightly parted from the fright, he remembered the first time he saw him.

—

It was a evening, one of the good ones, when his master let him play the pandura to entertain the guests. Edyrn had just finished to tune the instrument as the Invictus family made his entrance, father first, looking around like everyone was shit, the other family members after him weren’t better off with their noses held hight.

What a bunch of hateful pendulam, he thought to himself.

Luckily no one was paying him attention at the moment, so none noticed him glare at a patrician. In those last, hard years he learned to bite his tongue and keep his opinions to himself, but his too expressive face sometimes still betrayed him, even if he was careful not to show his disdain. He really didn’t wish to have another close up encounter with the flagellum.

Everything stopped, it felt like Chronos was holding his breath as Edyrn lifted his gaze from the lute’s keys some moment after thats, and saw the most stunning being in existence.

The young man was between a group of giggling, finely-dressed, ladies but he was looking at straight at him.

Fair skin, strong arms, a golden laurel crown on his shiny hair… the first unhinged thought that popped in his brain was that Apollo himself has came down from mount Olympus to mingle with the humans and Edryn was more than happy to kneel and worship him with his undeserving mortal mouth.

“That’s Stephanus Invictus,” whispered Rianne, while poking the bony elbow of the arm not holding her aulos, into his ribs “I can introduce you to him if you stop gawking like a sturnus!”

“Hey!!” He turned to glare at her “I wasn’t —gawking, tks! That’s just another patrician dick. He’s not even that pretty,” it wasn’t a lie, the man wasn’t pretty he was downright gorgeous but sure as death Edyrn wasn’t making Rianne privy to that particular info.

“Yeah right, and you totally aren’t drooling all over his strong thighs,” she deadpanned with a raised eyebrow.

Damn, he was caught. “Still a patrician dick,” he said faintly as his eyes fell on those sinfully muscled thighs.

“You’re wrong, he’s not a dick, he’s quite decent and brave,” she smiled challenging at the unimpressed face he made. “Now shut up and play.”

He stuck out his tongue at her in an impressive show of maturity and self restraint, and was rewarded with the funny sound of her snorting into her aulos.

—

Hours later, when the banquet was in full swing and Edyrn was tasked with wine service. He was sweating from the damp hotness in the cramped room and more than fed up of old, sweaty men feeling him up while he was trying not to spill red wine on the white tablecloths. The damned things were hard to wash clean without the bloody wine stains.

On clue a boisterous, balding patrician spilled his entire goblet.

Eryn couldn’t quite contain the eye roll, than took a better look at the man. This was the same filthy being that hit one of the younger servants the las time. He felt the fury growing in his chest. The Parcae lend him a chance as just then the man got up from his triclinium, more out of instinct that reasoning, Edyrn put his foot in front of him, sending the inepte man sprawling on the tiled floor with a satisfying thud.

The other servants nearby scrambled to help him, Edyrn kept up with his tasks of refilling empty goblets. A small satisfied smirk dancing in the corner of his lip until he stopped, horrified, as he saw the beautiful man from before, looking directly at him with an amused smile.

Oh no. No, no, no.

Merda! From the angle he sat he must’ve saw him.

Stephanus gestured with his goblet and Edyrn had no choice as to go to him and serve the wine. He kept his gaze on the ruby liquid so it looked he was caught up into not spill any but the truth was that his insides were cold and leaden and he was terrified because his fate was gonna be sealed the moment those pretty lips opened.

A finger under his chin made him turn to look directly into the young patrician’s face.

Edyrn took all his courage and looked at him straight in the eyes, daring him to made his move. The man inclined his head slightly, his smile growing “he deserved it, anyway,” he wispered with a wink and with a light pat onto Edyrn butt he sent him over to the next guest in need of some of Dionysius’ nectar.

What did just happened? Edyrn went to the motion in autopilot, his brain was mush and sure as fate the warm he felt at the tip of his ears were from the overcrowded room and he definitely didn’t kept sneaking glances at the pretty patrician for the rest of the evening.

—

Edyrn looked at him now, he wore no golden crown of laurel this time, a simple white tunic decorated with a couple of dark yellow stripe, instead of a toga but he looked breathtaking nonetheless, especially up close..

“Why are you here?” He asked roughly.

“To help you,” said Drustanus, eyes begging to believe him.

He turns again to Stephanusand with a last heated look at those kissable lips Edyrn backed away, mentally saying goodbye to the solid warm body he was pressing on the cave wall.

Homicides and monsters sure forge strange alliances.

—————

Futuo - fuck

Polis - city

Comes - man/bro

Parvulus - children

Hades’s realm - hell

Patrician - nobleman

Scortus - bitch

Pandura - lute

Pendulam - dick

Flagellum - whip

Chornos - God of time

Apollo - God of the sun and music

Mount Olympus - the place were gods live

Aulos - double flute

Parcae - goddesses of fate

Inepte - dumb

Merda - shit (fun fact in italians it’s still used Merda)

Dionysius - God of wine and intoxication

Toga - formal Ancient Rome’s clothes

[poptod]

Pull the Stars Out of the Sky (And Gift Them to Me), pt. 5 (Ahkmenrah  x Reader)

Description: You finally learn just how far he will go.

Notes: this story takes a very interesting turn, but i promise its worth the ending i promise. ending might not be done for several more chapters though :) hope thats alright! WC: 8.2 k

+

He left you alone in the garden.

You could've run away then. The trees and brush you'd have to wade through would be a tiny price for freedom, and you were mostly hidden from the view of the house. Instead you curled into a ball, having never felt as small as this in all your life, and hid yourself away. He was on your mind.

A taste of how your life would be if you ran already began to build on your tongue, as though in this moment you were free of his hold, entirely, wholly, and truly. It was bitter, like bile, tainted by the man who would always be on your mind, no matter how far or fast you ran. He had left his mark, scarred your skin, and you would never be rid of his presence. His eye that he forced into your mind would always watch over you, broadcasting his desirous thoughts into your consciousness. A voyeur in your own head.

Bereft of energy, you leant against the alabaster pillar, drooping eyes set uneasily upon the flowing water. He would do anything for you, but how far did that insanity go? Would he eventually grow tired of your emotional distance and forcefully take you for his own? All you knew of him was what he decided to show you––not a single bit more.

"Amoke?"

You looked drearily upwards, but relief filled you upon seeing Haji approaching you.

"You don't look so good," he noted, sitting down on the step beside you.

"I'm just a little tired," you sighed, pulling the blanket on your shoulders tighter around you.

"Did you get any sleep last night?"

"Yes, fortunately. How about you? What is your housing like here?"

"Not too bad," he said with a shrug. "I've got three other men in my room, but we're all in bunks. Main part of the house is nice, though. Lots of baked goods."

"Sounds nice," you chuckled. Your gaze fell once more to the intricate path of stone beneath your feet.

"So... Ahk told me you had a bit of a rough time this morning," he said slowly. You knew that was why he was here, yet still your heart sunk a little.

"I don't often find myself in large cities, much less in the middle of them."

"That's not the only thing bothering you though, is it?"

You sighed, before softly saying, "no."

Haji waited patiently while you thought through your words, contemplating them fully before you spoke.

"I told myself, when I was first caught by your King, that I wouldn't sympathize with him. I promised that I wouldn't fall into that common illness, but... now.. well, every now and then he seems human. Then it all fades away, and then it comes back, and... he's capable of controlling what people think of him. He puts on different personalities for different people. Why does he do that?"

"That's his job," Haji said simply, sending a stake through the core of your mindset. "He can't be a ruler all the time, but he can't not be a ruler when he's out in public. It's good that he hasn't let being a King take over his whole personality, like his father. The fact that he shows you all these sides of him means he wants you to be welcome in all parts of his life."

"... did he tell you to say that?"

He laughed, shaking his head as he patted your shoulder.

"No, but that was a very worship-y thing for me to say," he admitted.

"Heh," you said in a soft huff, wrapping your arms around your legs and pulling them in close.

"Haji?!" Ahk called from inside the house.

Haji sighed, almost rolling his eyes as he pushed himself to his feet.

"See you," he said, trotting off.

A couple minutes later you heard voices, which was strange, considering the garden was a decent distance from the house. You glanced around, eventually looking up to find Ahk and Haji, framing the sides of an open arch held high above the ground. They were discussing something quietly, but the wind carried their voices to you.

"Are they alright?"

"Yeah, considering what you're doing to them."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I – I'm sorry, my K-"

"It's fine," he muttered curtly. "Don't let it happen again."

You bit into your cheek hard, till your skin stung, and your jaw ached with the force in it. How had you ever willingly done his bidding? How had it slipped your mind, that he was still a royal? It was obvious in his step, his manner, his words, and his presentation, yet you had allowed yourself to thank him. To speak softly to him. To share parts of yourself that you had always sworn to keep to yourself.

No matter––you could not take away what you'd already freely sacrificed, but that didn't mean you had to keep sharing things. Today it would stop, and you would feel no more sympathy for the fickle man. As nice as Haji was, he did work for the King, and whatever you told him would end up in Ahkmenrah's ear. Sharing with him would also have to cease.

Maybe you were being too bitter, too closed off, but your crimes were meager in the face of Ahkmenrah's. He wanted you for his collection, to keep your beauty near him like a caged bird. If you yearned to leave, he would lock you up, and if you dreamed to fly, he would clip your wings, to keep you for his own.

Bastard.

That night it rained. Poured down in great sheets, battering down on the stone walls surrounding you, and tearing down palm trees like grass in a wildfire. You remained in the gazebo, rooted to the spot until Ahk came out to see you.

"Dearest, you'll get sick in all this rain," he said in a soft voice, kneeling in front of you, and looking up with familiar reverence dulled by the darkened sky.

You said nothing. Instead you fell into him, exhausted by your rampant mind, and aching from the water soaking down your clothes.

"Let's get you inside," he murmured, setting one arm beneath your knees, and the other behind your back.

With a small heave you were in his arms, the whole of your weight easily carried. He adjusted you a few times before you made it back to the house, where he set you down in front of a massive firepit, leaving you in the piles of blankets to run to the front door. You watched, huddled close to yourself as he opened the door and rushed in a small group of people. Among them was Naguib, who looked in a similar fashion to yourself––drenched.

Wet shoes and bare feet slapped against the white floor, puddles of dripping rain collecting on the path to the fire. The sound would have surely echoed if the fire wasn't roaring and crackling, dulling the sound of the rain, and calming you with every floating ember.

Slowly, the group of people around you grew, till Ahk saddled in beside you, his head on your shoulder.

These were his servants. You assumed that the housing set up for them in Thebes wasn't great, and Ahk had decided his house was a good spot for everyone to house up for the night. Sounded just like him––troubling you to the point of a breakdown, and then following that up with an act of kindness you'd see out of no other King.

"Are we sleeping here tonight?" You asked, barely audible above the murmurs of servants and the dancing fire.

"I think it'd be most wise," he murmured, shuffling to kiss your bare shoulder, before returning to his lax, sleepy position.

As people drifted off to sleep, hidden far away from the storm's ravages, you stared at the fire. It dimmed, and more people fell asleep, and you stared, wide eyes unable to close. By now you were lying down, Ahk curled up in your side as you stared at the burning cinders. He snored, though you hardly minded, finding comfort in his obvious heartbeat and the soft warmth of his breath.

He would always be an enigma to you. Or, perhaps, your affection for him would always be an enigma––reasonless, and petty, and undeserved.

"Sweet... darling," he mumbled through sleep-numb lips, grasping you tighter and forcing his face into your side, hiding away from the world.

You shifted, unable to move your arm beneath his head, and pressed your lips to the top of his head.

"Go to sleep, Ahk," you whispered.

"I love you."

Oh.

I love you.

The words circled your head, always on the corner of your eye as the ship beneath you creaked. It was a barge, or that's what Ahk called it; a carrier for Amun beneath the starlit sky. You tried to keep at the edge of the water, but Ahk kept his hand rooted at your waist. You supposed, in the amassed crowd, it would be a little hard to find you once the boat reached the other side of the Nile.

Behind your ship, where the golden statue of Amun rested, a fleet of other ships sailed in your wake, all of varying sizes. Some people sailed alone on small canoes, while others joined larger ships that took families across the river. All followed a path they'd taken before, one lit by a literal golden beacon––Amun, reflecting the light of torches held high above the people's heads. He would be carried by a team of men, who would set the God in the temple of Luxor for worshippers to place their kisses upon.

You could hardly see the ships, as Ahk kept you on an elevated platform overlooking everything in front of him, which simultaneously blocked his view of behind with a large shack.

"Should I pray with you or.. stay out of the temple?" You asked, careful to keep your voice quiet despite the loud voices of the pilgrims.

"You don't have to pray," he said, looking down at you with an assuring smile. "You don't have to stay outside of the temple, either. You can do whatever you like. I'd suggest partaking in the food, though, just by the way."

"It's alright," you said. "I'm mildly interested in how your religion works, so I'll watch your ceremony."

"Wonderful," he beamed.

Your balance stumbled as the hull of the barge hit the sandy shore, banking in another painted metropolis. Massive statues of Amun met you there, though the standing ones were made of limestone, and were a deal smaller than the golden idol. They flanked the docks, protecting the entrance to the city and the adhering temple.

Torches, held by soldiers who came to greet the boats, made way for the muddy ripples of water to visibly crash into the wood, making the ground beneath you sway. With help from Ahk, you rushed off the boat in an orderly manner. Swaths of people followed from behind, running onto the various docks, and watching the Pharaoh with eager eyes. Those whose attention fell to you glared, or stared confused.

Once most people were off the boats, the soldiers and workers began to lift the golden statue, causing an uproar of cheers from those around you. You nearly cringed from the sheer volume, but the grins surrounding you turned your fear to curiosity. Now you watched, blocking out the yells, as the statue was carried off the boat and onto land, passing by you and Ahk as it made its' way to the shore and the temple beyond.

You made to follow the crowd as it followed the statue, but Ahk tugged on your hand, keeping you on the dock. A soft and unbothered smile was on his face, and you paused in your curiosity.

"What are you doing?" You asked, your voice still hushed despite being alone.

"It's better to let them pray for a little while and mingle before I enter. Gets some of their energy out so they don't trample me," he said with a shrug.

"Wow. They must really like this holiday."

"I think more than anything they're excited about free food," he chuckled, his smile growing when you chortled.

Soon he was leading you back down the wooden dock, following the footprints in the sand towards the towering rocks. The dark of night casted the temple as a silhouette, whose real shape could not be truly identified, other than the fact that it was a very large structure. Even by starlight you could barely see the steps as you approached them.

The hallway you entered was deathly quiet, but lit distantly by the lights of the next room ahead. You slowed, your attention ensnared by the statues on either side of you, and your steps came to a silent crawl. Ahk allowed you to gawk at the art before he lead you onwards, a self-satisfied smile on his lips that parted them ever so slightly. Between the tall statues were pillars, and in front of each God sat a shallow basin, all filled with a clear oil.

You turned back to Ahk, ready to continue, pausing to allow him to endow himself with holy oil. Since the journey to Karnak had been started so late into the evening, you had yet to truly see him, and for a moment wondered if he would be wearing makeup.

Blue painted his eyelids, long, sharp lines defining his eyes as he stepped into the golden light, his entirety bathed in the holy glow. His cape trailed meters behind him, shimmering as though it were nothing more than a mist. Cuffs remained a constant in his outfit, though now they cradled his upper arms, his wrists, and his ankles, each carved ornately with faience and lapis defining the lines. The collar holding up his cape bore a royalty all its' own, crystal beads of red, blue, gold, and green coming one after the other in swirling patterns. Three golden amulets fell from the front of the collar, dripping down like rain on his bare chest and stomach.

Power had a name. Royalty had been born through his name––settling deep into his person, seeping out its' presence through his veins. This was the God the Nubians feared, the Hittites, the Phoenicians, all relented their struggle in the palm of this man's hand.

He stepped forward and the cheers of the hall fell into silence, heads bowing as all came to their knees. Foreheads pressed against the ground, hands outstretched on the temple floor, but consistently retaining a clear path to the statue of Amun.

Ahk continued into the room a few more steps before he realized you weren't at his side. At that point he turned to you, meeting your eye and calling you over with a silent wave of his hand. The blood in your heart froze, petrified by the insinuation, as your eyes darted between the bowed heads and the Pharaoh's outstretched hand. But he was patient, and he waited, his welcoming hand never falling.

After another moment you took his offer, fingers sliding over his palm till he grasped you, entangling your hands together. He pulled you gently forward, and soon you were walking by his side, welcome to bask in the respect of a silent room.

You noticed, once you looked up from the worshippers with guilt, that the statue of Amun had been placed upon a pedestal, a pedestal that had several different levels, and a staircase leading up. On the lower levels, statuettes and reliefs of Mut and Khons numbered many. There was where you stopped and turned, facing the long, torch-lit hall filled to the brim with devotees of Amun and Ahkmenrah.

"They bow for you, too," he murmured in your ear.

Your eyes settled on the exposed backs, the spines popping up, and the different adornments of people from all classes. None of them knew who you were. Would they bow to a stranger just because their King told them to?

Apparently.

To the sides of the altar, you caught sight of the Pharaoh's advisors, and a few of his personal servants, who were bowed alongside the rest.

"I am a King unlike my father," Ahkmenrah began, the first words of a long expected speech. "Unlike my father, I have brought us to peace, and have done so in a fraction of the entire time my father spent ruling. Unlike my father, I will love whomever I decide fit," his hand on your waist tightened, "and I will worship who I desire to. As a King I am allowed these comforts––the freewill of choice, and the means to live fruitfully. I am not controlled by my father... or my advisors.

"Unlike my father, I will give you these rights. Restore what should have never been taken. I will return your free will. I will allow all to marry who they desire, regardless of race, class, or gender."

The already confused crowd began to murmur, heads lifting to whisper to one another in curiosity and disbelief.

"I will pay back what my people sow," he continued. "You will be able to pride yourself on your work, no matter what that is, as all creation is important, and shall be protected under my rule. I will give back the means you give me to live fruitfully. As I regenerate myself and my power during this evening, so shall you be reinvigorated, as my blood runs in your heart, just as your blood runs in mine."

He stopped speaking, and for a moment dead silence ensnared you, before a rupture of cheers and applause broke your ears. Voices surrounded you, echoing off the tall ceiling painted with stars. Beside you, the Pharaoh beamed, basking in the adoration till he turned to you. It was then, within that fiery temple, and within the view of the population of a whole city, that he held your face soft in his palm and kissed you. Needy, incredibly needy, essentially desperate, but gentle. As though you would break. The tension fell instead upon himself, in his tight chest that just barely pressed to yours. His breath pushed and pulled, longing to feel you move against him, never ceasing to thrill your nerves as his fingertips brushed across your bare stomach.

When at last you kissed him back, he melted into you, almost leaning his whole weight on you in relief. He did his best to keep himself upright, and parted when it was clear you were short on breath. For a moment he stared, scanning your wide eyes, before kissing you once more, this time much shorter.

Looking to the sides of the altar, he waved in the servants, who sprang to their feet with trays of food. They dispersed amongst the now-standing crowd, feeding the citizens just as the Pharaoh promised. Musicians appeared from behind tall pillars, strumming melodies you'd never heard before. As they did, Ahk took your hand, kissing the back of it as he began to step down from the altar.

"Ever dance before?" He asked, a teasing smile growing across his face.

"Not in Egypt," you said. Different cultures had different styles of dance, and you were in no state to embarrass yourself with your 'foreign customs'.

"It's much the same as most places," he assured you, leading you down the steps. "Just move however the music tells you to."

Drums brought in a heavy beat, thrumming in your veins as the steps of many dancers surrounded you. The weight of their feet, jumping and pounding in tune with the lutes, created a beat you could easily move your body to. Ahk felt much the same, as he smiled wide and twirled you beneath his arm. Exhilaration caught the breath in your throat, warming your already-flushed skin, and enthralling you with the Pharaoh's many talents. Of course he would know how to dance––of course he would know how to twirl you, how to dip you, to run his hands over every inch of your body without ever truly stopping his melodic movements.

A dream, he was––a glowing halo over his head, the heavenly sky painted above his piercing eyes. His clothes, doing their own dance around his moving body, swayed and whipped the glittering silk high in the air, twirling around him like a golden universe. You found yourself grinning wider than you'd ever done in his presence, searching for his hand and its' warmth whenever he parted. Without thought you chased after him, giggling as he made his way through the crowd, nearly clearing a circle in the middle of the holy temple.

By firelight you caught your reflection in his eyes. It was then you saw yourself, your near-manic smile, your tussled hair, and the royal robes dripping elegantly off your body. This was not you––or, at least, this wasn't you before Ahkmenrah captured you. Yet you found, with his hand on your waist and your chests pressed tight together, that very rarely had you been happier than this moment.

People around you, staring at you, the scent of spilled wine and twice-baked honey intoxicating you. The circle around you continued to dance, but kept an eye on you and the King.

"See?" He murmured out of breath. "You are beautiful. Heavenly. You are already a God. See how they stare?"

"Yes," you whispered out.

"They are simply processing your divinity," he said, his eyes darting to each feature on your face.

"What should I do?"

"Dance."

Beneath the eyes of Amun you kissed him, soft and barely there, before you gently parted yourself from him. He watched, breathless, as you placed your hand on his chest. You circled him, drawing your finger around his chest to his back.

"This is how they dance in the east," you mumbled in his ear, carefully watching the eager crowd as you spoke.

You grabbed his hand, whirling him around to face you as another grin began to cross you. He mimicked your smile, enchanted by your movements, gaze never ceasing as you began to move your hips. The staring of strangers now only served to fuel you, caught up in the wanderlust that had captured you so vividly as a child. This had been your source of energy, how you kept moving throughout the world––the presentation of other cultures, their wisdom, and their art.

Soon you were tangling yourself back into Ahk, allowing him to pull you in circles and dictate your steps. The two of you moved in near synchronicity, and as the temple's dancers joined in on the sides, so did the rest of the populace crammed into the hall. Musicians played louder as the shouts and whoops of listeners began to overtake it.

You caught sight of the golden statue once more, your gaze lingering on those knelt at its' feet. Plates, bowls, and clay pitchers of food and wine now overcrowded the base, accompanied by the reliefs of Mut and Khons, as well as tokens made of Amun's image. Slowly you dragged your eyes upwards, to the watching stare of the golden God.

It blinked.

Massive eyelids closed over empty eyes, causing you to falter in your step. Your own eyes widened, caught horrified by the statue, a terror that quickly halted Ahk's own dancing. He looked at you confused for a moment, before following your line of sight to the statue.

The room fell into an astonished silence, instruments screeching to a halt as the statue's arms began to crack, movement slowly filling them until they tore apart from the main body. Fingers cracked as though sore from stillness, followed by the horrid trembling of the floor brought about by his heavy feet. They tore from the base, stepping down from the altar as the face began to move, animated, and smiling.

The golden eyes of Amun stared at the tiny people below him, a space amidst the crowd cleared for him to stand easily in the temple.

You looked up bug-eyed, your mouth falling open as Ahk grasped your lower arm tight.

"Is this supposed to happen?" You asked in a whisper, but in the wake of silence, your words were clear as day.

"Not... usually," Ahk admitted sheepishly, tugging nervously at his clothes. "Um.. Amun? Have you possessed your statue?"

"In a way," he said, the deep vibrations of his voice humming painfully loud in the echo chamber. "I have my projected my thoughts and voice into this body, so I may give to you the gift of my presence... and so I may give you a message."

Despite the tremor in Ahkmenrah's hand, he kept himself steady, and looked up at the God as though he were any other regular person.

"What is your message, Hidden One?" He asked. 

"I desire your... pet," the God said, his eyes falling to you, clinging to the Pharaoh's side. You shrank further into yourself, nearly shaking with panic.

Amun was the creator God. Ahkmenrah could not say no––the pure outrage that would come from the citizens should he do that was deterrent enough for you to be assured of that.

But he stepped out in front of you, cradling you behind him as he glared upwards.

"Why?" He asked, his earlier reverence turned to suspicion.

"Do you dare to question my command?" Amun asked in return, the rims of his eyes beginning to glow an unearthly purple. Smoke filled his mouth, coming out in great billows and plumes, filling the ceiling as he appeared to grow taller.

"I want to know why," Ahk gritted out.

Amun paused, gauging both your expression and Ahkmenrah's, before speaking precise and clear.

"It possesses the knowledge of many cultures. I have tired of my consorts, my own pets, and their closed minds. Your pet is beautiful and knowledgeable," Amun said, kneeling to face you closer, "and I desire it for the afterlife."

Massive eyes met yours, peering over Ahk's comparatively tiny shoulder. They remained rooted for a moment, scanning what little of you they could see, before the God stood once more.

"I want you to kill it, preserve its' body as well as you can, and bury it for when I come to take it," he said.

"No."

Gasps sounded from the crowd, all the eyes on you chittering and murmuring at Ahkmenrah's gall.

"Tiny King," Amun growled, his hand reaching down to pick Ahk out from the crowd.

Before the thick fingers could pinch him, Ahk reached around to one of his nearby soldiers, pulling the sword from its' sheath and slicing the palm of the God. The gasps around you grew louder yet, people beginning to shuffle nervously as they doubted the will of their Pharaoh. Through the murmurings you heard shouts, taunts against Ahkmenrah, claims of sudden insanity.

"Give up the slave!" Came from somewhere behind you, which very nearly broke Ahk's concentration on Amun as his nails dug into his palm, teeth ground together.

"Someone take his sword!"

"Get him out of here!"

"Silence," commanded Amun, and the temple returned to quiet. "A cut will not stop me."

With that he reached forward, his massive hand brushing Ahk aside and grasping your middle, arms forced to your sides. Your breath caught in your throat, unable to yell as you were lifted from the ground.

"You had the choice to willingly serve me or anger me. Either way," he brushed the hair away from your face with his golden skin, "I will have Amoke for my own."

He smiled, soft, and terrifying, as he squeezed you tighter in his palm. The constriction cut off your ability to breathe, muscles pinching and twisting with the pressure.

"You have watched from afar my battles, that I am sure of," Ahkmenrah said. You looked down, desperation welling tears in your eyes as you met the gaze of the King, who had the face of the dead; dark, and dull, and absent of empathy. "Yet you don't know that I will destroy anything that comes between me and what I want."

"Funny," said Amun, "I'm the same way."

Ahk casted aside his sword, instead reaching for the many vases, pots, and basins of oil, throwing them all to the floor till both the offerings and marble floors were covered in holy oil. Confusion struck you till he reached for a torch, at which point you began to wriggle in the God's grasp. Ahkmenrah had done a number of stupid things, especially when it came to his relationship with you, but burning down a temple rung bad news to you.

He threw the torch to the ground, lighting the temple aflame with bursts of fire that burned red and orange. Already heat came to meet you, hitting your cheek and neck with waves of searing warmth, tinted with the smell of lavender and roses. Screams bounced off the walls, blurred by the crackling roar of fire. You watched, high above the crowd, as people scrambled towards the exit, desperately escaping the flames. Then your eyes fell, past the door, past the shrieking, to the Pharaoh, his face lit by fire, and his eyes darkened by the overwhelming shadow of his own crown.

"Fire cannot hurt a God," Amun spat, holding you closer to his chest.

"No," Ahk agreed, "but it can hurt your vessel."

"Gold doesn't melt by simple fire."

"Right again. But the stone on the inside of that frame does."

While they spoke, you began to feel the melting heat of stone surrounding you, burning you wherever your skin was bare. Panic seized you fiercely, quickening your breath till you barely felt your own chest heaving up and down. You cried out as the burning sensation turned to searing pain, melting and blistering the skin of your forearms.

From nowhere you were released, falling two meters from the sky to the ground. Ahk rushed past the burning pools of oil and piles of food, grasping your hand tight in his. Before either of you said anything, the agonized, broken yells of a God filled your head. It spiked and crackled, like explosions in your ears, ranging from deep, mechanical roars to high-pitches screeches that felt like nails dragging down from your eyes to your jaw. Through it all Ahk kept you running, heading for the wooden doors already set aflame. Pillars fell around you, crashing against the marble floor, and in the process causing the ground to tremble. The two of you nearly lost your balance, watching two massive pillars slowly falling to block the exit. He held your hand tighter yet, his pace increasing as yours did, the two of you bolting out of the hall. The moment you exited, the final pillars fell behind you, blocking the door and locking the God into the fiery temple.

Heavy pants filled your chest till it numbed, your teary eyes stinging in the cool, night air. Even through the thick stone you could hear Amun wailing and screeching, clawing at the walls of the temple till the marble gave way, tumbling to the floor and splintering upon impact. The sandstone bricks behind the marble kept him inside, leaving him to die within its' holy walls.

"Are you alright?" He asked, frantic hands and eyes scanning your body. First he held your face, then your neck, till he found the marks covering your forearms.

"I'm -"

"Ohhh dearest," he breathed out, his brow furrowed tight as he took your hands, holding them with a touch so gentle you barely felt it. "I'm so sorry, my dear. I didn't... oh dear.. does it hurt?"

You looked down, scanning over the seared flesh in the dim starlight.

"Not anymore," you said, confused at your own tolerance. "It just hurt at first."

"I'm so sorry, my love, I'm.. we'll get this bandaged up, all right?" He promised, looking you in the eye.

"Ahk, no one's going to help you," you said. His subjects wouldn't accept him back after that fiasco. No way.

"Piye will," he said assuredly, raising your hands to kiss your fingers. "That's all we need."

"Where are they?"

"Still in Thebes. It'll take us a little bit, so let's get some bandages first," he murmured, kissing your forehead.

He gingerly threaded his fingers in yours, assuring himself of you, before the two of you headed away from the desecrated temple. While he scanned the long, dark hallway for people, you noted the figures flanking the entrance, and tugged on Ahk's arm.

“He certainly lived up to his speech,” one of them said.

"I think your advisors are waiting to hand your ass to you," you whispered.

"Ah... fuck. My father himself is going to rise from the field of reeds to throw my ass in my face," he mumbled, chewing on his lip.

"When did you start swearing?" You asked, slightly befuddled.

"Usually when I get into dangerous situations," he said lowly, ducking behind one of the pillars as one of the figures shifted, "it starts up. Horrible habit. My mother tried to rid me of it but she was never quite successful."

"Apparently," you muttered beneath your breath, before helpfully pointing out that there were holes built into the ceiling to let natural light through.

"Perfect, darling," he said, pecking your cheek before reaching for the carved top of the pillars.

Once assured of his stability, he heaved himself upwards, catching the ledge outside before falling. From there he pulled himself up, scrambling onto the roof of the hallway. You attempted to go the same route, but your arms hardly reached the pillar's protrusions, and they were numb with pain. Seeing your trouble, he lay flat on the roof, hanging his arm down. You grasped tight as you could, and with help from your legs you clambered onto the roof.

Ahk huffed, brushed himself off, brushed you off, and only then continued on. From up there you could easily see the advisors and guards discussing, their hushed voices reaching you with little clarity. Spying would do you no good, and Ahk soon realized that, taking you back towards the temple.

In silence he climbed the rest of the way to the temple's roof, helping you up along the way. Your shadow stood before you, casted long but pale against the flat expanse of the roof, stretching out before you like a desert. This was the only area of the temple undecorated, left untouched and plain. It was a funny thought to realize that from above––from a God's view––the temple was as plain as white sand.

By descending far away from the entrance, the two of you avoided sight of his advisors in an act you realized he'd done many a time before. You wondered, watching him sneak along the ground, what kind of a child he was, and if you would've liked him better if you met him when he was younger. Though to be perfectly fair you liked him quite a lot already, unfortunate as it was.

Ever aware of your wound, he led you by a hand on your back, instead of the usual taking hold of your hand. Keeping your footsteps quiet proved hard in the loose rocks, but with your slow pace you safely made it to the boathouse he led you to.

"Here," he whispered, ushering you into the room. He glanced outside, scanning for anyone present, before carefully closing the door and turning back to you.

You opened your mouth to speak, but before you could do so he was pushing you into a chair, hushing you softly. Mildly offended, but more importantly confused, you watched as he rifled through boxes of storage. Most of your questions were answered when he pulled out bandages. Alongside that, he pulled out a small pot of honey, which you yourself had used before to treat infections.

"I am truly sorry, my dear," he said as he knelt before you, unravelling the linen. "I never meant for anyone to get hurt."

"Except Amun."

"Well... yes, there is that," he mumbled abashedly, chuckling.

For a little while you watched in silence as he gingerly wrapped your arms up, careful not to touch the sticky, pale wound with his fingers. Honey kept the linen from burning or attaching to heavily to your skin.

"Why did you do that?" You asked, your voice cracking in your attempt to keep quiet.

"What? Did I wrap it wrong?" He asked, looking up with wide, expectant eyes.

"No, not that, the –"

"The burning thing?"

"Yes, kind of," you said. "You hurt your God."

"It's alright, he's not the only one we've got," he chuckled.

"That's not the point," you hissed, increasingly irritated with his jokes. He laughed at your annoyance, but finally calmed down enough to speak seriously.

"Amoke, the Gods are eternal. They have time to know everything, to have everything. We are not. We have a limited amount of time to enjoy ourselves. I think Amun can wait another hundred years till you die. I can't. Do you understand that?" He said, his hand cradling your face as he knelt between your legs, praying to your reverent eyes. "I don't mind fighting for the things in this world that I own. Because until I die, I am wholly of this plane, and such earthly things are all I have."

You swallowed through a tight throat before nodding. A small smile replaced the worried knot in his brow, and he returned carefully to the task at hand.

White linen soon coated the entirety of both your upper arms, spots of honey and blood rarely peeking through the wraps. He was finally finished, the ends tucked away, preventing it from unravelling when you moved. For a moment you sat still, waving your arms up and down experimentally.

"Thank you," you said as you stood, looking down at the couple blisters along your hands.

"Of course, dear," he said, kissing the top of your head. "Piye will do a much better job. I just don't want it to get infected on the way there."

Seeing as your temporary hideout was a boathouse, it was relatively easy to get a boat. The process was a combination of 'don't let the wood creak beneath you,' 'lay down on the dock, there's someone coming,' and 'untie that knot faster'. Your aching hands were no fit for any small, involved work, so Ahk made himself useful by both releasing the canoe from the dock and rowing it away from shore.

Despite being almost-passed-out tired, you couldn't doze on the boat, too paralyzed by the rocking waves. Ahk noticed––of course he did––but could do little to comfort you. All he had to provide was the information that this wouldn't take long; thirty minutes or so, he said.

To find ease in something, you looked off the edge of the boat to the rippling, black water. Though the stars shined above you, you could barely see them in the river. Instead you found your reflection staring back up at you, unblinking.

"It's not healthy to stare at yourself too long. Drives some insane," Ahk commented in a hum.

"As if you don't spend an hour every morning looking at yourself in the mirror."

"Ouch. Fair point."

Stumbling back onto land was easier than usual, but keeping your balance on the dock was a little harder. Ahk told you to sit down while he tied the boat up, which you did, but only after nearly tripping over a stray rope.

"We shouldn't exclude the possibility that Piye, and perhaps the rest of the Thebes, already knows of what we've done," Ahk said, looking out from the dark shore to the torch-lit city.

"And if they do?"

"Um... we'll get to that when we get there," he said with a sharp breath, his eye still set on the lights. "Let's go, hm? Nice and quiet."

You nearly laughed at his behavior, but a glance to his expression had you sobered. His teeth were digging into his lip, more than usual, and it looked rather painful.

"Ahk?" You said, grasping his arm to halt him. He turned to you, his stress gone, and looked you in the eye. "Are.. are you alright?"

He continued to stare at you for a moment, before saying, "yes! I, um, I'm alright. Thank you."

"... okay," you said doubtfully. He was clearly lying, but you didn't want to seem as though you cared too much, and you could always ask later on.

Keeping low to the ground, just as before, the two of you managed to sneak into the city without being noticed. It was an even more impressive feat considering your clothes jangled with every movement, overcrowded with jewels. Torches had you struck with fear several times, recalling each time the gold swirls of Ahk dancing, and terrified the light would shine too bright off the Pharaoh.

Without attracting too much attention, you made it safely to Piye's housing, placed within a large garden beside several other similar-looking houses. First he looked in through the windows, but ultimately found nothing.

"I'm sure it's fine if we just go inside," Ahk said with a dismissive shrug, tugging on the handle.

"Um –"

"Don't worry, Amoke," he said, directing you inside. "I've known Piye since I was ten. They won’t mind."

Your mouth pressed into a thin line, anxiously looking around the dark room for any sign of movement. Such was your anxiety that when Ahk closed the door behind him, you jumped, long nails digging deep into your palms.

"Careful there," he said as he passed by you, heading towards the fireplace.

He knelt on the ground, his beautiful skirt dirtied on the soot and dirt collected on the hearth. Pulling out several tools from nearby, he soon started a fire, this time much tamer and controlled.

Fire.

Why did the sight of it root you to the spot?

Warmth seeped into the room, gently easing your tight, cold muscles, and asking you to step nearer. Your teeth dug into your cheek, but you fought your impulse and sat nearby on the floor. As you drew your knees to your chest, Ahk scooted over to your side, gently putting your head on his shoulder.

"I swear, I'll -"

The muffled sound of yelling began to ring from the entrance of the garden. You and Ahk immediately looked to one another with wide eyes as you listened, trying to make out the words.

"Osiris won't be enough –– wrangle that –– stuff you in a grave!"

Splinters flew as the door wrenched open, slamming against the wall and bounding back to nearly hit Piye in the face. Fortunately, Piye, being tall and vigilant as they were, caught it without breaking their menacing stare at Ahk. Ahk on the other hand was rooted to the spot, staring up at the enraged magician.

"What the hell were you thinking?!" Piye yelled, forcing the door shut behind them before approaching Ahk with a vindication you rarely saw. "You think you can just attack a God and your people will still love you? You're not above the deities, Ahkmenrah. You're their vessel and they will strike you down for this disrespect!"

"I'm not going to let an innocent person die because some God wants a plaything," Ahk said firmly, keeping his ground.

"You don't get a choice. Don't forget you're a temporary ruler of this world. The Gods control everything and everyone," Piye said, roughly jabbing Ahk in the chest with their finger.

"Piye has a point," you said.

"Amoke, d –"

"They're going to get their way eventually. Why fight it?" You asked, a question that had the two of them quiet for a moment.

"I will fight for every last second I can have with you. If need be I will slay my people for one more minute in your presence," he said as he once more knelt before you, taking your hands in his. "I will burn down this world for one last kiss."

There was a fervor in his eyes unlike anything you'd seen before––bright, brilliantly so, yet lusting for something not in the realm of the holy. Something much more sinister; a lust not for flesh, but for the blood within it. He would keep his word. You knew then and there, staring into those bright, empty eyes, that he would sooner destroy his cities than let you go.

He would keep his word.

"Don't," you barely whispered out.

"I would," he said with the same softness, directing you to look back at him when your eyes strayed.

"I know."

Wooden planks creaked as Piye shifted their weight, crossing their arms as they watched your spectacle.

"I allowed this for a long while," Piye said, their voice drawing Ahk's face away from hiding in your lap. "I let you steal an innocent person. Now I see I should've stopped it from the beginning. You've grown too attached, Ahk. You have responsibilities bigger than yourself, and there are certain things you cannot indulge. Certain pleasures you cannot partake in."

Not once had the Pharaoh looked to Piye. Instead his gaze remained enraptured in yours, dreamy as it was bittersweet.

"And if I abandon my position as King?" He asked, a smile growing across his face as he carefully watched your reaction. Behind him, however, Piye's own expression fell, arms unwinding as they stared stupefied at the Pharaoh.

"Your father would never forgive you," Piye said, much quieter through the tension built in their throat.

"So what? He's dead."

"Merenkahre might not have been a fantastic King but he was still your father, and he cared about you."

"- a care that was most certainly conditional, seeing as how he treated my brother," Ahk pointed out.

"Your brother killed thirteen servants!! I think that's a little different!" Piye seethed, lean muscles in their hands tensing as they spoke through gritted teeth.

"Yes, listen, Amoke got hurt in that little temple fiasco. I was hoping you could help them," Ahk said, finally turning to face Piye.

"Oh. Of course, come here," Piye mumbled, ushering you over. "I'm sorry you got tangled in his mess. I'm sure you don't want to be here."

"Oh, well -" you began only to be interrupted.

"I'll be very pleased to remind you that Amoke willingly joined me this time!"

"'This time,'" Piye mocked. "Oooh, your little plaything actually wanted to be remotely near you one time."

"First off, ouch, second off, you enjoyed it, didn't you Amoke? I mean, besides the whole melting arm debacle," Ahk said, peering over Piye's to see you.

A long, tense silence stretched when you couldn't find an answer, and instead decided to focus on Piye's treatments.

"My Gods," Piye muttered once all the wrappings were off, which was not a good thing to hear from a doctor when they're examining you.

"What? What's wrong?" You quickly asked, eyes darting between the wrappings, your wound, and Piye's concerned expression.

"Nothing, it's just... this is a pretty severe wound. I'm surprised you still have fingers," they said, shaking their head to clear it.

After taking a deep breath, they took one of your hands, holding it up close to their eye.

"I'm going to have to do some... experimental magic for this. Are you alright with that?"

"What happens if it goes wrong?" You asked, a creeping suspicion on the edge of your words.

"I'd imagine either nothing or you'll have arms made of flowers."

You paused to silently debate it, but took little time deciding.

"Alright," you agreed.

"Wonderful. Give me a moment," they said, and began to mutter verses beneath their breath, eyelids closing over glowing eyes.

You looked to Ahk with an astonished look, your mouth hanging open. He just shrugged, unable to give you an answer before Piye reemerged, no longer glowing in their eyes. Now their palms were glowing, surrounding your burnt arm.

"Repeat after me," they said. "I am this pure lotus which went forth from the sunshine."

You repeated them.

"–– which is at the nose of Re; I have descended --"

"–– that I may seek it for Horus ––"

"–– for I am the pure one who issued from the fen."

Heat came from the tip of your tongue, nearly burning as you spoke the last word. With a racing heart, you opened your eyes, immediately drawn to the blue and purple embers rising from your arm. Streams of light soon came from the wounds, blossoming into solid shapes that built the petals of blue lotus flowers.

Every inch of skin that was scarred, burned, blistered, or melted off had been infested with flowers, growing so thick that they puffed out like kinky hair.

"Is it... supposed to do that?" You asked hesitantly.

"It's not.. not supposed to do that," Piye suggested, which was also not a comforting thing to be told.

Either way, you made your way back to your previous seat, your hands folded neatly in your lap as you slouched down. Piye made to grab something from the mantle, but ultimately sighed deeply and flopped down on the floor beside you and Ahk.

"What are we going to do, Ahk?" They asked, leaning forward with their chin balanced on their palm.

"... you're going to help me?" Ahk murmured as he perked up.

"Yes," said Piye bitterly, "of course. But I'm not going to enjoy it."

[pseudofaux]

even an injured hand grasps at grace

A lonnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnng time ago I did a follower celebration with short fictions and promised a longer story to the winner. That (incredibly patient) winner was @fieryanmitsu, who asked for a story set after Mitsuhide’s Act II. Holidays, family stuff, a global pandemic, more family stuff, a crisis of creative drive, MORE holidays and MORE time later... Here, at last, it is. Anmitsu, thank you so much for participating in that follower celebration, for being so kind about the mortifying amount of time this has taken, and for being a fellow Cat Daddy fangirl. I am very, very grateful for your grace! M, 6000 words, SLBP Mitsuhide. CWs: obvious but unnamed depression, brief discussion of death by weapons. (But mostly it is happy-thinky-poetic wife worship and baby fever.)

Sometimes when she is exhausted she speaks in this silly way. His love for her makes him warm to his toes. Adorable, his wife is adorable. He will never again allow any other duty to shove her out of the place she deserves in the center of his heart.

He will never hold a sword again. The discovery that there is still any strength in the arm once so mighty, enough that he can use it to work: a cause for gratitude and relief. A gift. He can attend to the responsibilities of his new life. He has a new life. Master Tenkai knows better than most men what death looks like when it bears down in a flash of metal. Sword death is the smooth silver of steel, spear death is the sluggish brown of mud that will cradle a dying man, and death by bullet is the black of blood that comes out so thick it is purple before it is red. Weapon deaths are cold, as though to compensate for the heat of their forging. There is a depth of balance in this that he cannot yet name, a mystery of the heavens like the others he spends so much time thinking about and helping the mountain villagers understand.

This new life is mostly keeping up their modest home (half residence, half tiny temple), and sharing knowledge with the villagers and their children. Of course he still thinks of Sakamoto when he sees the children growing... but his entire life he has been too much in his own head, and since they came to the mountain he has gotten better at leaving memories alone. He does not forget, and he hopes this makes him a decent man. Like any decent monk, he allows the thoughts of Sakamoto their due, which is to rest and flow over him as water flows over every side of a fish. It is right that it surrounds him. He could not and cannot do anything for Sakamoto, or address the irreparable harm he caused. He can consider it, meditate on it, and live with what he has done. And he will. Because he can live.

Swordwork’s precision and steadiness are forever gone from him, he believes. But he still has his arm and still has his life, even after he made peace with losing much more before Hideyoshi’s sword came down. He can pet the cats that congregate around the little temple, and he can twirl bits of string and stalks of grass for them. He can still write, his characters more calligraphic than they were before. He has to work hard to make clear strokes when he teaches the village children, and he feels that is a just requirement. When the house needs repairs, he can make them, and he can draw air into his lungs and live with his failures and successes both, or at least live with his failures and the grace he has been given. He has the brush, and he has the strong walking stick that his wife has helped him cut to the right height. The staff is smooth in his hand after only a few months’ use, a little extra oil applied when they have it. He wonders if he is allowed this easy comfort, but will not allow a walking stick to be a thing that trips his thoughts. His watchword now is moderation, not abnegation. If a fallen tree limb comes to him he will be grateful, and if the wood breaks he will let it go. He is willing, now, to let so much go.

There is only one exception, and she sleeps easy these days, when the cold of night on the mountain curls them together as though they are rabbits in a burrow. They wake slowly to this dream life. The part of him that is a decent monk cannot help but wonder how different their lives might be if it had been this for them all along. He did not want to rule; he had only ever wanted to spare others the hardships of ruling, and allow all good people the comfort of safety, from most divine ruler to most helpless child. These thoughts are in his head. Here in their tiny room in the building that is their home and the village’s temple, she is in his arms. In his heart and his bones, he knows that fact is grander than any man’s attempt at divinity.

He never has to force smiles at the children who come to the temple to learn. They are rowdy, eager, and completely charming. He is comfortably grinning at a group of them when he catches sight of her at the bend in the path that leads to their home. She is smiling, too, and there are tall leafy greens sticking out of the pack behind her shoulders that remind him of the folded wings of a fine hawk, the kind favored by samurai and nature alike. What would they do, if not for her hawklike competence and gentle ferocity?

Likely starve, he tells himself, on both melancholy days and happy ones. It is only the truth. He has learned a few things, but cannot match her, and while he is always available to the villagers, he stays near the temple unless he is asked for in the town. She does their shopping, she is their face. No one of quality can resist being won over by the warmth of her smile.

The children are thrilled to see her, and it reminds him of a dream he has had several times now, something he has kept to himself because it is so precious and he still does not want to ask anything of her. He is not sure if the slips of dream come from the peace of their life or the torment they left behind them, whether the dream is reward or recompense. But the cheers of the children take hold of his heart and make a tapestry of the scraps of his happiest dreams, weaving them tightly with what he is truly seeing. His thoughts nearly take him to his knees-- or perhaps that is an insistent little person, tugging at the edge of his sleeve.

“Master Tenkai!” chirps the village child. “Hana is home, so it is time for our lesson!”

They teach the children together in the afternoon’s warm, clean light, and only send them home when it is time for her to prepare their evening meal and him to complete the evening sweeping of the temple floor. Later that night, she seems relaxed and sleepy next to him, full of food, full of love. She asks, “Do you remember when I asked you to bring me a stone, so I could make you pickles?”

That is a pleasant memory from their life before, a luminescent pearl floating through silt that suffocated so much happiness. But the memory itself is light. So his smile is easy and does not feel like punishment, and he nods and strokes the space between her shoulders.

“On this mountain I have all the stones I need,” she declares, pressing her cheek to his chest. The smoothness of her face is finer to him than any pearl, a marvel of sensation that settles him, instantly and completely. “And I will make you pickles every week, if you want them,” she adds.

Sometimes when she is exhausted she speaks in this silly way. His love for her makes him warm to his toes. Adorable, his wife is adorable. He will never again allow any other duty to shove her out of the place she deserves in the center of his heart.

“Only whenever you are inclined,” he says, drumming his fingertips to tickle her.

Her giggle is sleepy. “There’s not time to make them every day,” she quips, snuggling closer and sliding an ankle between his calves. He has only the one dream that is sweeter than his actual life, and he is keeping it close to his chest for now. But he will not keep anything closer to his chest than she is. They squeeze one another, and he expects they do not fully relax their arms until they fall asleep.

A winter has passed, and a spring. This is their first summer on the mountain, so they are learning the cycle of invigorating mornings, sweltering afternoons, and unpredictable nights. They have already learned from kind villagers how to best coax food from the pebbly soil of their garden, and their efforts in the summer are devoted to this every day until the air grows too hot and they retreat to the shade of the temple to fan themselves with their hands and drink water that (they hope) has managed to hold some of the chill of the night before.  

Every morning he braids her hair, and in these summer days a few strands always escape and stick to the back of her neck, temptations that coax him to bare her shoulders and murmur along the skin he worships. She often swats him away, because even after tending the garden there is plenty of work to do. But sometimes she does not swat him away at all, and some days she draws closer with a magnificent, confident need. He cannot determine if it is need for him or need to show him something, but each time, their bodies become hotter still, sweat running like streams and stinging their eyes even as it makes moving together easier.

There is a day at midsummer when they cannot help themselves, resting on the step to their home. They are covered from the relentless sun by the good new roof of the temple. He is vulnerable to melancholy in the heavy air that precedes a storm. She knows this. By the time the thunder and rain seem to be on every side of them, heaven’s own veil around the little holy place where they live, their hands are in each other’s hair, she is straddling him, and he is kissing her so deeply he can taste their midmorning snack. The last time she went to town she came back with karashi seeds, and their food this week has been bright in their mouths, cleansing and flavorful. He is hungry for it.

“Mitsuhide,” she pants quietly. The rain around them is so dense no one would hear her, but that name is never spoken above the softest whisper. Her other sounds are louder, even louder than the roar of the rain, and he loosens his hold on himself to match her. He groans as he tilts his hips up toward hers, everything that he is straining for her. They are so warm that even though the air is cooling around them, the rain may as well be steam. One of her hands slides from his hair to his neck and then down his chest, between their bodies, until she palms his insistence and he gasps for her until she squeezes. They moan together, unbearably hot in the sweet agony before they join.

“Now? Here?” he asks. They’re alone, but he craves her comfort as much as her indulgence. There is always a point where he stops asking, but before that he needs permission. She gives it in a nod and shuffles off his lap onto the floor, still stroking him through his clothing. Her clothes are already loose from their embrace, and she puts her other hand inside her collar and tugs down until she is cupping her breast. His blood in his ears is louder than rain or crashing waves or the war chorus of a hundred desperate men. He lunges at her, one hand in her hair and another at the back of her neck to soften her landing. When he is over her, he snarls at her temple before kissing the space with the beastliness that is revealed by these stormy days. It is a wet kiss, and because his tongue cannot taste enough of her he ends up licking from her cheek to her hairline. He savors her, salt and spice and earth and somehow his, as he pushes into her hand. She does not let go of him. He never wants to let go of her.

His hand slips from her neck into the heaven of her opened collar, and his thumb finds her nipple between her fingers. She lets go, gives herself to him, and he pants adoration into her ear as he rolls the peak, beautifully strong, until she moans. He knows this is right, that nothing else in the world is anything next to the truth of how right it feels to cage her in, make her tremble, and soothe her, serve her.

So he doesn’t hold back. He tells her she is the most wonderful, beautiful, desirable, beloved. His mind makes poetry for her and he licks the words onto skin he pinches delicately between his teeth. You are rainfall to a dying man, you are here, you feel better than breezes, you are mine. After all he has done, he remains a man, and a man is an animal, as any man who has gone to war can say with certainty.

The thin clothes he wears for gardening are sticking to his body, and he swears he can feel the drag of each thread against his skin as he moves with her, friction enough to spark a fire through their sweat. Her hand on him is maddening kindling.

“You are flames,” he declares as he ruts down into her hand. “You are burning me.” A man is an animal, a gasping creature not sophisticated enough to express all she makes him feel.

She slows her hand and hums, pleased by they way he gives himself over. That is the way they play. “It is too wet for flames,” she murmurs, as though she is consoling him instead of throwing tinder on the fire she has made. “Drown in me instead of burning, my love.”

The affection in her words soothes his amorous madness and spreads the familiar, comfortable warmth to all the tips of his body as the power shifts between them again. He loves her so much. Could any man convey so much feeling? To be an animal is not bad, but it is base, and she is made of heaven and still chooses to be with him. He smiles at her in wonder of all her beauty and bravery. He will focus on giving her anything that he can.

“Gladly,” he whispers, smiling wider. He takes her wrist and pulls her away from her work. When she complies and settles her hand against the floor by her head, he unties the rope of faded jute braids that hold her kosode closed at her hips. She is worthy of finery but dressed in these threadbare rags with him instead, and still her eyes say she has what she desires. As he drops the thick cord beside their bodies, he thinks he will try to find her a pretty bead, or even a nice smooth stone from the stream, something to adorn her middle and give her pleasure when she sees it. She gives him so much pleasure.

Their clothes as temple keepers are very humble, but they are much easier to remove than their daily wear of only a year ago. Sacrilegious but sincere, he mutters his gratitude at the simplicity of baring her body to his eyes. Her slopes are gorgeous, winding like the gentlest river against the air. She reminds him of a war map he saw years ago, illustrated with hills and pools so lovely he mourned as war was planned against the unarmed ground.

He shakes away that memory to construct another of the way she looks right now, sensual and receptive, womanly in the way she came to be when they started their lives here. Back in control of herself, of both of them, she parts her lips and breathes his new name. He undoes the scrap of old kimono that serves for his sash, and peels away his own sweaty robe. When he comes back down to her, she has freed her arms from her sleeves and their hands find each other, fingers dancing warm and worn as they wrap together.

Now it is still raining, but the roar of it has quieted to a loving hiss. The light is gray and blue, so she looks like nighttime. She pulls him to her with the power of dusk closing flowers, and their kiss is moon-soft, full of promise instead of frenzy. Her lip is a marvel between his and he loves pressing it with his own lips and teeth and sucking gently to make it swell. He wants to touch it with his thumb while he’s inside her and then kiss her again, maybe kiss her while he touches her with his thumb.

The chill at his back cannot last when there is so much heat between them, no matter what she says of drowning instead of burning. A man can drown in the bubbles of a hot spring as well as he can in winter’s water. He sucks in a breath and breathes it out into her mouth, and when she does the same with more force he shudders. His hands slide to her hips, where her curves fit into his palms as though he were a farmer and she were a ripe stalk of rice. She is at least as crucial and nourishing.

He is so hard he doesn’t need to take himself in hand. The head of his cock slides (with a sureness he would never claim aloud) between her folds, against the spot that makes her thighs flex. The movement is easy, a slip if not for his control. They are always so eager for one another.

“How?” he asks, and kisses the chin she is offering as her head is thrown back. “Here? This? Just outside the reach of the rain?” A demon is in him, to tease her like this, but the demon wants her pleasure as surely as he does because this is what she wants, for everything to be drawn out until their tension snaps. “Do you want the air on all your skin?” he continues. “I will give you anything. Just tell me.”

She hums the thoughtful sound that means she’s thought of some way to drive him insane. Thunder cracks with an ominous sharpness in the distance, and when she tilts her head and looks at him there is lightning and mischief in her eyes. He squeezes her but still she wriggles out from beneath him... and she goes to one of the beams that holds up the roof, safe from the rain thanks to the overhang. She moves her feet back and bends at her waist and he can do nothing but feel blessed and aroused, so aroused he is stupid. The warmth she put in him turns to tingles, like she has displaced the lightning from her gaze and made his skin the sky and his bones the bare, vulnerable earth. Within himself he feels a frighteningly intense buzzing.

“This first,” she declares. “Just watch for now, darling. Stay where you are.” Her thighs and calves are so defined from the ways she has to toil in this new life that he feels a shadow of guilt for enjoying the sight of her so much. It vanishes when he sees her fingertips between her legs, right at his eye level. She is pulling his mind apart, but her method for that is giving him this gift, and in this life he takes what he is given.

“Yes,” he rasps, and swallows before the dryness in his though makes him cough. “Yes, of course.”

The movement of her arm slides her loosened braid along a shoulder like a brushstroke. Her touches are sure-- she told him months ago that she learned to do this when he made her sleep alone for nights on end. He curses his foolishness even as he is grateful for it. She is always turning the most miserable ingredients into feasts, his wife.

Her sure fingers make circles and dip into her folds to smear her arousal. She likes it a little messy sometimes, another thing she has revealed in the safety of their seclusion. He loves what she loves, and he wants to put his mouth on her, put his cock in her, so badly that he fears his voice will scar his throat in a mad escape if he has to stay apart from her much longer. But he will die of idiocy alone if he interrupts. So he watches, the cool air of isolation doing nothing to keep his belly from tightening when she coos. Her hips begin to drop forward to meet her hand and he bites the flesh of his palm to stave off insanity as long as he may. She is a cat, he realizes, playing with all his many frayed ends. When she glances back, whatever she sees on his face-- he must be flushed, he feels terribly hot-- makes her laugh, dark and sweet. She keeps going and keeps her eyes on him. There is that gentle command so uniquely her in the way she looks at him. It makes him feel like he is blooming frantically, too fast, a blossom pummeled by rain and completely out of control... and she keeps looking, keeps smiling, draws the moment into moments until he thinks he might sob.

And then she curls her fingers against herself to beckon him and says “Come here.” The way her voice puts the words somewhere between request and demand is flattering, but he has no time to be flattered. Rain-cooled air yields against his arms and legs as he rushes to her. Immediately, he is there behind her legs, positioning himself, and the heat of her backside would burn him were he not already so ruined. Against her at last, he can appreciate the way the weak light on her sweat-slicked back is more beautiful than the finest inkwash, the ways she smells competent and domestic and alluring, like the precious sweet scent of soil that hides between mountain pebbles. She is all these things, and she is so calm as his mind whirls in its delirium of adoration and arousal.

He doesn’t mean to tremble, but his hold on himself has been too tight, and the spaces where his teeth dug into his hand throb. Like the mongrel pet to a noble lady, he has little other purpose but to love her. He sees that she can sense it. There is a grace to her certainty when he grits his teeth, even though she is wound so tightly that when the head of his cock finally presses inside her, he must push. Slick, soft, smooth, she feels, somehow, despite the pressure. As he pushes fully inside, their groans are wanton to the point of inhumanity, more like the sound of creatures in the night than of a man and his wife. His wife, his wife. He pulls back and groans again at the way her body fights to keep him. He swipes the braid off her back and kisses her shoulder, pushing back in slowly as her soft, strong body welcomes him.

“More,” she cries, her first sound of vulnerability, and he is eager to take care of her. He knows to move steady and powerfully but keep it slow at first. She comes better around him, but needs to be allowed to focus, so he is quiet as he focuses on her and the way the muscles of his back stretch and roll to please her. He is still a fit man, and he hopes his body thrills her as hers thrills him.

She makes a needy noise between her teeth and moves faster, shaking just a little. She hisses “keep going,” and of course he does. The tension he felt a moment ago is so unimportant now he is not sure if it was real. In the time when things shift between them he no longer needs permission, and he feels the magic calm settling over him-- it is his turn. All he needs to do is what she needs from him, it’s so simple. And he would do anything she asked, for the chance to be so near her when she finds bliss. It is already rising up his legs, like a snake squeezing and sliding, like ripples... and her sighs are like waves. Maybe she is too wet to be flames because she is water itself. The way into her is blissful enough, a slick heavy pressure around him where she is swollen from all their kisses and touching. The challenge of it makes him grin with a ferality he usually keeps well out of sight, and he presses on, pulls back, kisses her shoulder again and calls her his beloved. His voice doesn’t shake.

Hers does. “Again,” she pleads, grasping back for his hand. “I want it again.” She guides his fingers in circles until he knows where she is and what she needs, and then she lets him give it to her. Trust is such a sacred thing.

When he touches her she laughs, and he laughs too, and fucks her with a great deal of joy. They find their pattern: her hips push back to meet his thrusts, so when he presses in, deeply, they fit as cleanly as a carpenter’s masterwork. The storm has truly cooled the air but all it does is chill the fresh sweat on their skin as they move. It invigorates him, makes his spirit shout with a freedom he cannot contemplate at the time. His wife is using the beam that holds up their roof to push back against him, allowing the tender space between her breasts to be abraded by the wood. There is room for nothing but happiness here, nothing to do but honor her sacrifice and make her feel more pleasure.

“Yes,” she rewards him with her voice for a particular thrust, dragging out the sound at a pitch that registers inside him while he is inside her. So he moves himself even faster to try and repeat it, then relishes the sweetness of her soft whine. It makes him feel like he is surprising her with his love for once, instead of the constant way she graces him with her own.

He leans over her a little more. “I want nothing as much as I want your happiness,” he tells her, the croon of his voice broken by the intense way their bodies are connecting. Her hand comes back over his, keeping him in place. Magnificent. “Go on,” he tells her. “Again, love. Just like you want. Just like I want. Again.”

She shudders and stops moving her hips (she clings adorably to the support beam, her arm as tense as her hand on his). He keeps going, because he knows that is what she expects. At the end, what she needs is to be filled, to be given something to clench around, and he needs to be that for her. He is so driven, from inside and out, to fuck her, that he cannot do anything else until he feels it, not think or breathe, only move into her as though he can shove bliss into her body. So he tries, until he feels the shaking of her legs as perfection alights, and then he takes one great breath before it hits them both as she squeezes tighter still. They gasp together again as her clenching and soft sounds pull his warmth to fill her. Abundantly. Deeply. The air comes out of his lungs onto her shoulders, then touches his cheeks with the softness of a cloud.

She is breathing heavily, and slowly she puts her weight against the wood and becomes still. There’s a gentle press against his hand before she drops her arm. He’s tempted to catch it and kiss her knuckles, but he does not want to move from being curled around her back. He does move his hand away and puts the arm around her belly instead, holding her that much closer. She feels exactly as warm and soft as a cat who has fallen asleep in the sun.

There is a slick, sticky feeling all around his cock, but there’s nothing unpleasant about it-- something in him actually relishes it, loves the thought of mixing, loves the thought of there being too much, it makes him want to take her to the floor and have her again-- and she does not ask him to move, so he stays until he softens. “Darling,” he whispers then. “I’m going to get us a cloth.” He has desires, but he has mastered himself.

But she mumbles “No. Hold me.”

So when he pulls out as not to slip from her, he simply sits down and pulls her with him, right down into his messy lap. There’s not a breath between the time they land and her turning so she can snuggle his chest. He strokes her hair and kisses her cheeks and nose and tells her what a marvel she is. She is all pliant affection, touching his arms, kissing his jaw, raising a love welt on his shoulder... reaching to stroke him gently, experimentally, just like she did when they were on the steps.

He has mastered himself, but not as well or fully as she has.

He pulls over their clothes and lays her out on top of them on the temple floor so he can join their bodies yet again, unhurried. They have the time for slow lovemaking in this life, and the grace. Her knees frame him as he moves and he cannot help but kiss one and then the other, reveling in her laughter (when he tickles her ribs, she tightens deliciously around him) as much as in her love. They lay together for a long time after that, cool and lazy in the quiet. When the rain is replaced by the first note of tentative birdsong, they know they should move in case someone comes to the temple. Despite the afternoon, they are a cautious couple by nature.

He attempts to clean her with their clothes, and carries her to their room to rest more comfortably. Her hair clings to the idea of a braid, but much of it is loose and floats about his arms in the sodden air. There is a satisfied tilt to her mouth when he helps her sit, and as he moves behind her the last he sees of her face is her smile curving deeper. He settles his robe over her shoulders and combs his fingers through her hair to ward off tangles. When he is finished, he replaits her hair and kisses the ribbon, then her mouth. She shakes her head, hiding her mouth and making him chase it. His rewards are sleepy giggles, enchantingly low, every time he catches her.

Several kisses later, he redresses and leaves for the kitchen to make them a simple meal. He delights in feeding her by hand as soon as he returns, because their closeness makes him feel whole and doting on her feels right. They stay near as they bathe, and then they go back to bed. It is early, but they will need to start early tomorrow to make up for the time they spent not working this afternoon. They have earned their sleep. He wonders if he will have the dream again.

Tucked into their bedding, she is in his arms, not yet dreaming herself. “Darling,” he says quietly into her hair, and murmurs love until she turns to kiss him sweetly and tells him to go to sleep.

He does have the dream. It is the most wonderful dream yet.

“Chichi-ue!” The voice is high and happy. It is coming from behind him, so he must turn away from the sight of his wife with a baby at her breast. Before he can see the little one who called him-- called him chichi-ue, his child-- the dream shifts and his wife is with an older child, tasting broth and listening patiently as the child recites ingredients. Then his wife is with two children, each holding one of her hands as they turn on the bend of the path to their home, and the smallest lets go of her to run to him. Their faces are all obscured by a sudden cloud of mountain dandelion seeds borne on the wind... all he can see are healthy little legs and feet in clean sandals, slapping against the ground as fast as they possibly can. The movement becomes a child’s hand with a brush, marvelously steady and precise. The same hand around a cluster of flower stems. Scraped knees and palms and little puffs of breath between shrieks and giggles as tears are soothed away. Two voices laughing over the plunking sound of skipped river stones ending their flights, and he recognizes the stream where they stand. The face and voice of the herbalist in the village, kindly telling them to be patient and then whispering something they might try. Four simple bowls, mismatched but meant to be together, set around a table. He can see this scene over his own shoulder, hears those same two voices dutifully expressing gratitude for their meal. The sounds change as his dream gives him the voices at different pitches through time, thankful for their rice, fish, vegetables; the bowls stay on the table, the food in them changing in dizzying whirls of color until he wakes.

“Good morning,” says his wife, in the voice she can only use for the first words of the day. Quiet and deep as a hidden pool. “I love you.”

He reaches to stroke her cheek, and tells her about the dream at last. She tells him her dreams, too.

Exhausted but awake, awed and unsure, he holds his son for the first time in the crook of his better arm. All of him shakes, because he is weeping at the perfect newness of this child. The baby, so unhappy with the village woman who came to help with the birth, settles into his father like poetry, and closes sweet dark eyes, and yawns flawlessly. They way the baby’s tongue trembles reminds him of a stretching cat. Master Tenkai of the mountain cannot look away. There is so much to see, and there is something about gazing at this tiny face, shifting magically from pinched to peaceful, that shows him the virtue of disregarding time completely. He should know it for what it is: another effort by man to control what he cannot. Everything that marks time in a human way can be broken. The sun rises no matter what people do in the night.

One of the temple cats senses a fellow creature and leans up to sniff at the baby. The baby’s father is happy to share the sight. The cat noses at the baby’s plumpness and then slinks off, but Tenkai stays where he sits, holding his son beside the bedding where the baby’s mother is gazing at them both with a tired, happy expression on her beautiful face. Her hair has all come loose from its ribbon. The woman from the village said it was an easy birth, but it certainly took its time. At the end, they have their perfect son, and she is alright. Everything is alright. The greatest challenge facing them at the moment is that he will have to learn to braid one-handed. He chuckles to himself and the baby blinks, then settles.

He will never hold a sword again. Whatever time may be, it feels like he made his peace with a more important truth a very long time ago, perhaps in another life entirely, and had only to relearn it. To hold his woman, and child, and the other he believes will join then... that is more than enough for the warrior who was once Mitsuhide, who became Master Tenkai of the mountain. All else may come and go. He will treat everything with respect, and allow all that is temporary to leave his hand like water. His family, permanent and indescribably precious, is the only thing that he will never, ever give up.

[tintentrinkerin]

nothing on my tongue but hallelujah...

Rating: Explicit

Pairing:

Jared Padalecki/Jensen Ackles, Jared/various, Jared/Alex Calvert

Warnings: 

Gangbang, Barebacking, Jealousy, Top Jared Padalecki, Bottom Jensen Ackles, Religious Cults, Power Dynamics

Summary: Jared's Cult, the "Church of Grace" is a peaceful and harmonic little community in the South. Then young Jensen appears and rocks the Cult leader's world - moreoever, it rattles Alex awake, who's been sure to be his leader's most loved member.

Written upon request

Word Count: 9.9k

Read below the cut or on AO3

Kudos are love <3

The Divine Five Pillars of “Church of Grace”

Obedience

Purity

Community

Free Love

Kindness

The “Creed”

I believe in God, the Father and the Almighty,

who created the world, the people, the seas, the animals and the trees.

I believe in God’s son, who is his true Vicar on Earth

For he brings joy, love, community, kindness and hope. 

I reject the Devil and his kin. I turn my whole existence to 

the true Vicar of the Holy Father. 

I hereby swear to follow the five divine rules of the Church

and give myself into the hands of God’s most graceful creation.

May He and God’s Angels lead me into Paradise.

Amen.

2 Corinthians 11:13-15 

For such men are false apostles, deceitful workmen, disguising themselves as apostles of Christ. And no wonder, for even Satan disguises himself as an angel of light. So it is no surprise if his servants, also, disguise themselves as servants of righteousness. Their end will correspond to their deeds.

Siddharta Gautama

Through true honesty deeply believe that all sentient-beings are one.That all beings have the same true nature, wisdom, virtue.

If people knew how much effort it took to get an orgy going, they probably wouldn’t even bother and settle for porn instead. 

Jared and Alex had to plan every monthly “gathering” very thoroughly, especially, when new recruits and adepts arrived. The new boys and girls would maybe chicken out at first, but that wouldn’t be punished. Later, yes. At their first time? No. Jared was very kind to those he found. In other communities they’d be punished right on spot. But Jared, no no, he wasn’t that barbaric. He wanted everyone to feel happy and included. Everyone had to use the headquarter’s communal showers or baths after they had an extensive cleansing plan, to purify their body and also a very intense work out session. All for purity’s sake. Jared loves purity. 

The garden behind the Church of Grace’s headquarters was around 400 acres, enough space to celebrate free love, the holy spirit within all of us, and most importantly, worship the true Vicar of God on Earth. Forget Jesus. 

Jared was pleased when he saw his usual very busy adepts who were about to be initiated in the second step of Priesthood. They were so eager and they had a fantastic taste in decorating. There will be a bonfire, it’s May 1st after all, one of Jared’s favorite dates for a gathering. Pagans used to celebrate Beltane, well, they still do. In tiny groups, the Wiccans and the Druids. He has no affiliations with them, but as a shepherd of his sheep he needs to be informed. Wise. He wants to be the one who can answer all their questions, give interpretations. His interpretations. His view of the world. And in his world, only his Church will bring them peace and harmony and closer to God’s grace and mercy. 

The bonfire wood is piled right in the center of the garden, the part of the garden that members are allowed to see and walk on. Around the bonfire a lot of big wooden logs are placed for the followers of Jared to sit on. As soon as the fire burnt down a little bit and some chalices of holy wine were emptied and some delicious weed was consumed, the orgy might start. Jared will let the believers start first. There’s always a couple or a single horny person that will start wooing a person of their interest. Jared will join later, when the ecstasy is palpable and the adepts play the drums, letting the mass of naked bodies find their rhythm. Behind the huge pile for the bonfire, there’s Jared’s seat. A massive chair made of dark wood, polished, carvings all over. Still a thing someone could find a little too pagan, but Jared doesn’t care. The truth is what he speaks, not the others. And the truth is, that people still are just the same as in the early Middle Ages. The same things struck them with awe, and it’s not churches in white marble and Jesus hanging from crosses. Nature and it’s forces, the hidden desires. Intimate, primal and authentic. That’s his motto. No nude angel chiseled out of porcelain will make people feel this kind of raw euphoria and devotion as a bonfire and some drums do. Let the drums shake their cores and make their blood rage. This is how you make people feel their primal truth, and then, they’ll realize why doing this once a month is so freeing. They will get back to work, back to Jared’s mass, satisfied and their needs soothed. Then they will happily obey, stay pure, pray and make the community itself a functional unit of people with the same values.

And their money. It’s always gonna end up in such a community running itself, on donations, the members’ money and other things. 

When the sun sets, the members of the community sit down on the wooden banks or logs, or they bring a white towel to sit on. Jared counts the members and everyone is there. Alex sits beside Jared’s chair, obeissant. 

The white flowy cult dresses start billowing in the wind. Jared sits down on his chair, with a graceful flowing movement. He’s dressed in white too, linen, see through even when dry. When he sits all the heads turn to him. In the twilight of the remaining sunbeam, you could think, Jared just descended from heaven. He likes that idea. He raises his arms and in his strong, rough voice he proclaims “Brothers, sisters, it’s time for our monthly celebration. You cleansed your bodies, you prayed and did good service to the community. Now is the time to reward you, my brothers and sisters. Let’s have the holy communion, break bread and offer it to your neighbours, offer wine to your friends. Connect.” There’s faint applause and Jared puts his hand down. “No need to applaud, my dear sister, tonight, we celebrate you and your devotion and purity!”

He turns to Alex, dressed in white linen trousers. “Brother Alex will light  the fire and then, brothers and sisters, enjoy the bread and wine, let your spirits flow and find your matches for tonight!”

The crowd cheers and they end the chorus with a loud and enthusiastic “Amen!”

“Amen!”Jared echoes and his voice layers upon everything else.

When he sits down and Alex lights up the fire he watches all these people, the four new recruits. A young cute redhead girl, she looks like condensed sunshine - a young boy, looks like he’s here because the redhead is here (he’d be weeded out tonight) - another redhead, looking fierce. A snake. He might take a closer look at her - and then, there is Green Eyes. The boy that Jared picked himself. Usually one of his lower assistants would pick them but this time, Jared had to intervene. He needed these assistants to weed out the no go’s just before Jared could even see them. He couldn’t check on every person willing to join, they needed to make a first sighting and then the few ones who might be of Jared’s interest, would be invited to meet the True Vicar himself. Usually, that was 10 out of 200 or even less. And Jared was just as rigorous with ditching the foul seeds. But Green Eyes was his favorite all along. Those eyes… 

Alex breaks the loaf of bread and offers it to Jared. Of course, he’s on his knees and only looks up when Jared takes the half of the loaf and gives him his blessing.

“May you be blessed by our Lord and his Angels,” Jared says very formally. Alex looks up, his face has tiny sprinkles of ash on them already and his robe turned transparent from the sweat. He’s decent. Will he try as the first one today? Like always? 

“May you be blessed by your Father, Our Lord and his Angels,” Alex replies until Jared gestures to him to stay up. 

“Amen.” 

“Amen.”

Jared eats and then receives the wine from Alex too. That’s a golden rule. As his personal assistant, Alex receives the blessings from Jared. Just after him, anyone is able to be blessed by their Master. They share half of the bread, they will need the rest later. In this community it is not necessary to receive Jared’s blessing to consume the holy communion as his liberal practice says that any true believer in their community, on one of the 12 holy days of their community “gathering”, can offer and receive blessings from a brother or a sister. Jared’s happy about that, because blessing 120 people would make him pass out drunk and he can’t have that. He is in control. And he needs to stay in control, too. 

Around him, the wine, the food are eaten and some herbal cigarettes are lit, the thick smell of weed is everywhere. Four cult members responsible for music start playing the drums and flutes now. Quietly still, just a hint that soon, the gathering will start with their original purpose. The physical and mental connection of the members with each other. Jared can already see people who are done eating, wine tipsy and a little herbally relaxed. Hands wander under togas and robes, simple shirts and wide hippie trousers. Alex stays with Jared, looking down on the obedient sheep doing what they’re supposed to do. The fabric in his crotch is tenting. One look in Alex’ face tells Jared everything.

“You won’t give up, huh?”

Alex shakes his head. “No. I will never give up.”

Jared now stands up and stretches like a cat that has just awoken and now is on their way to do some mischief. “Boy, all of you try so hard, but none of you can take it.”

“It’s about receiving your mercy,” Alex says, now sounding a little sulky. 

Jared heads towards the bonfire where some couples (or more) are intertwined with each other, laying on the bare grass, sitting on logs or they found a nice spot on the white towels everyone brought. Right in the center, around the fireplace, it is too hot to sit there. Jared makes his rounds, ruffles some hair here, kisses a girl there, even helps a young girl settle on her lover’s cock.

“There you go, sweetheart,” he coos, “that’s how you show your love and devotion.”

She would be too tight and small for him though. All the women here would surely love to try again and again, but none of them would be prepared for his cock. 

When he is done doing rounds around the bonfire he sits down on an empty white blanket and just like it’s natural, the free members gather around him. The drums start playing a hard and catchy rhythm. 

The psychology behind music and rhythm. His members really know how to play a mass of people and put their bodies in the right directions. Alex joins and everyone respects Jared’s assistant too much to try and get Jared before him. In absolute devotion, Alex pulls Jared’s white linen pants down to his naked ankles, then off his naked feet. The participants murmur and gasp, such a delight every time. Jared didn’t wear boxer briefs or anything else underneath and so, everyone can admire his massive cock. It’s big, the erection growing strong and hard and the tip bounces against Jared’s toned six pack, above his belly button. Even Alex with his long filigrane and very skilled fingers can’t wrap around the shaft fully. 

They all watch, not even Alex dares to touch him yet. 

“You. Alex. Claire. You were such a good team last time. Would you show me how perfectly you harmonize?”

The blonde girl blushes deep red and Alex first raises an eyebrow. It’s clear who he wants, but he would never deny one of Jared’s commands. And that’s what it is. A command. 

Alex pushes Claire on all fours, one strong hand in her hair and presses her down while he sucks on two of his fingers and then penetrates her with them. She squeals and giggles, but before Alex fucks her he knows he has to give his true interest a show, and he will. While fingering her he presses his face between her buttcheeks and starts sucking. The scene gets very loud with pleasure noises very soon and another guy asks to accompany them. 

Jared supports himself with one arm and the other he uses to stroke his cock, throbbing and hot, he loves it when his followers put on such a show. He’s leaking some precum already and a boy next to him looks at it. Greedy and inexperienced. Jared doesn’t let him taste yet, and instead the nameless boy bends down to kiss Jared’s very muscular thighs. Another follower starts doing the same on the other side, everything with Jared stroking himself slowly. He wants to enjoy every minute of it. His toes are sucked on, submissive followers suck them like it’s his massive member. The first brave adepts gather around them too and Jared can’t help but smile. People stroke his hair, kiss his neck and leave their marks, but what Jared really needs is someone taking his cock like a champion. He knows he’s intimidating. Thick and lock, and even grows bigger when hard. The first adept who is bold enough to come forward is very much welcome. He has himself oiled pretty well, he smells flowery and when he sinks on Jared’s cock (just the tip!), he freezes. 

“Oh… God”, he hisses, “oh my f… so big…” Jared smirks, his hands on the twink boys hips. Such a beautiful boy, Jared would love to fuck him and fill him up, but it looks like he is already failing at the tip. 

“Go slow, my dear,” Jared says nonetheless. A guru can hope. 

Two hands on his shoulders push the boy farther down and he cries out, half in pleasure, but also in pain. The hands disappear and the young man on Jared’s cock looks like he’s about to cry. 

“It’s too much for you, hm?”

The boy nods and gets up, legs shaking. You can tell he never had a guy fuck his ass before, bonus points for using oil as lube. He might try again after he gets used to it with another cult member. He stammers an apology. Jared pulls him down for a second and presses his thumb on the boy’s forehead. 

“I bless you, brother.”

It’s a ritual, it’s a necessity, or the boy will maybe consider leaving. But most of the boys, like Alex, stay close to Jared and try it again and again and again. Some people are overachievers, maybe one day it will be successful. 

The boy mumbles an Amen and then strolls away, looking for another group he can find a place in. Jared still feels the tight ass of this boy and, damn, how much he loves it when they’re tight, maybe an anal virgin even, and he’s the first to fuck them. Another brother sucks him off, but  he also has trouble swallowing more of Jared’s wand than just the tip. His sucking is superb, ambitious even. Drool runs down his throbbing cock, damn, he even makes delicious sounds! Jared’s head falls back and he wishes he could blow his first load, but all these attempts of his followers just leave him just ‘almost coming. The man takes him deeper now but is interrupted by heavy gagging and he has to give up. Now it’s Alex who claims to be next. Alex is the kind of guy who acts like a passionate lover with anyone, even though he only craves  Jared’s attention. He’s open and gaping already, must've gotten into a very nice threeway with Kathryn and the other member. Alex sinks on Jared’s cock, his back pressed against Jared’s sweaty chest. Alex is able to take more than just Jared’s tip after extensive dilating practice or when he’s been fucked already by two or more of his brothers of the Church, but that leaves Jared only semi turned on, too. He feels loose, not as tight as when he tried it the first time and cried for several minutes because Jared’s dick almost tore him apart. It’s enough to make Jared cum and bless Alex with an intense prostate orgasm, but still Jared is not satisfied. When Alex leaves and some others follow him to the pool, he sits down again, crotch still throbbing, his need still not satisfied. Around him the orgy is at its peak, no one is alone by now, everyone is sharing their love and energies. Jared is gifted, his cock is ready again five minutes later and he mounts that ginger woman, the adept. But she winces when he’s halfway in and Jared has to pull out. She’s biter and a scratcher, her thick accent is sexy and he makes her cum multiple times with his tongue and fingers, but he holds back now, he waits for the perfect one. Someone to form a union with. A tight one, but skilled and resilient. A man that can take his cock and even if it hurts a little, push through. 

Jared sinks down on one of the blankets, lies down and stares in the clear starry night, a follower brings him a pillow and others massage his thighs and arms, his feet. God, yes, his feet are so sensitive. Another guy shyly asks if he may be of service and when Jared opens his eyes and looks up it’s Green Eyes. He hasn’t seen the boy since the beginning of the orgy. Jared immediately hikes up and shoos his other followers away. 

“Sure, sit with me.”

The boy with the forbidden pretty pouty lips, the rough voice and piercing green eyes sits down, facing the self proclaimed Vicar of God.

“You want to be of service, what was your name again? I’m sorry that I have to ask, I am terrible with names – most people change theirs after initiation anyway and that’s what stays in my memory.”

Green Eyes looks at him. “I’m Jensen.”

“Hello Jensen. I’m glad you came to our monthly free love gathering. Is that the kind of religious practice you seek?” 

A girl offers them some bread and a chalice of wine, plus some mushrooms on the side.

“It would be an honor, Jensen, to break the bread and drink the wine with you. Mushrooms are not mandatory if you’re allergic to that kind.”

Jensen grins and echoes the girl’s “amen” and gives her a smile. It’s gotten a bit quiet around them, some followers watch Jared and his new recruit very, very closely. 

“I don’t want to break the protocol, who is supposed to break the bread and offer it?” Jensen asks with a shy grin. Jared chuckles.

“We do not have a strict protocol, not on these special nights when we celebrate freedom and harmony. And free love. When we surrender to our primal instinct, you understand?”

Jensen nods seriously. “Yes, I get that.”

He rips off a piece of loaf then a second and offers one to Jared without the ceremonial motto. Jared ignores that (at least today) and receives the bread. “May you be blessed by our Lord and his Angels,” he says, presses his thumb on Jensen’s forehead and mumbles an “Amen”. Jensen echoes again, then takes a bite. When he’s done Jared offers him the wine with the same motto, and this time Jensen copies it, even though the Vicar is addressed during that sentence with “May you be blessed by your Father, our Lord and his Angels”. He will learn that, Jared will make sure of it. 

No one dares to come any closer after they’ve been offered shrooms, bread and wine. Some couples, or whole piles of copulating people don’t care what’s around them but some very devoted followers of Jared’s doctrine watch their Messiah and the new man very closely. Some are envious. Some are in awe of these two beautiful men sharing the body of Jesus Christ (strictly speaking Jared’s ‘brother’, just a few thousand years earlier) in such a manner. Jared’s tanned body glistens in the light and sparks of the bonfire and his hair started curling a little lately. Several people’s eyes turn wet. Given the beauty of their leader. Or given the fact there’s a new boy in town. And this boy is too pretty for his own good.

II

The wine is dry and aromatic, nothing you would just chug down and Jensen and Jared empty four chalices which are refilled by a maid that was brave enough to disturb her leader and the new recruit. It’s gotten chill and the bonfire shrinks and shrinks, some members of the Church try to revive it for a little longer and throw thick and heavy branches on it, along with brushwood that would burn easily and then transfer the fire over to the branches.

Just like in the 16th up to the 18th century – this is how you build a pyre to burn witches.

Jensen carefully, even a little shy now, lays a hand on Jared’s leg. The leader is surprised, given his attitude and behaviour he didn’t count on Jensen to take part in the orgy, he seemed more the watching type. The bonfire reflects in his intense green eyes and Jared feels an aching towards his new recruit. 

Now he realizes that Jensen’s white shorts are tenting. The way he looks up at Jared, through his thick blonde eyelashes it’s absolutely acting. Jensen is not that shy. Maybe a little. 

“The others told me…” Jensen started, “that I should under no circumstances give in to your… advances. You would, how did they say… tear me apart…? I wonder why…”

Jared snorts as an answer. Amused. His followers keep saying this to either see if someone’s brave enough to come forward right in their first few months here or if they’ll chicken out. 

“Well!” He has to laugh again. “Look, I think you’ve… you’ve watched a little without participating in this celebration, right? You’re still dressed, to my dismay!”

Jensen blushes, one hand on his crotch. Now, this reaction is a little more honest. 

“I can, I mean…”

Jared laughs louder now and then lays his hand on Jensen’s, that is covering his erect penis.

“Don’t make it awkward, Jensen, it’s fine. Not many participate in their first orgy and you are not obliged to, either. This is about free love. Father gave us free will for a reason. Because without free will, there is no love on this Earth.” 

There’s one streak of Jensen’s chin long hair, it’s styled but now the hairspray or the gel isn’t working it’s magic anymore. Jared brushes the strand behind Jensen’s ear. He’s closer to the recruit now and Jensen’s hand under his pulls away for the messiah to feel what’s underneath. 

“Regarding your concern about ripping you apart… I would never. But as you can see…”

Jensen’s eyes fixate on Jared’s growing cock and he gulps visibly.

“Yes, I…”, he looks up again, doe eyed and his mouth slightly opened, his pink silky tongue wets his lips. 

“You have the face of an angel, do you know that? I wonder what hides behind that…”

Jared’s voice is low and rough now, he groans when under his fingers Jensen’s cock jumps. 

“Jared, but… what if I can’t--”

“Shush, I’ll prepare you for it. And we have masses of oils. We’ll go slow. Very slow.”

A whisper erupts amongst the witnesses, their leader and idol! – wooing Jensen. A newbie. Some figures in the dark hurry for more oil, whole cans of it, juices, towels and fresh clothes. This is a choreography of duty to care for Jared. Everyone knows this is an occasion they won’t be able to witness that often. So far only one person could take Jared’s cock and fulfill his most aching wish. 

It’s Alex’s now hated duty to bring it all over to the blanket where Jensen climbs in Jared’s lap, panting faintly between two very passionate kisses. There’s fresh bread, more wine, water from the Church’s own well, fresh clothes for both and a big bottle of lube, oil based. It will stain every inch of fabric it’ll meet. Jared doesn’t even look up at him when he retreats, but he throws a ‘thank you’ in his direction. As soon as Alex is out of reach he is forgotten. 

Jared takes his time with this one. His commune members are in such harmony with each other already that prolonged foreplay isn’t necessary, but of course encouraged. Jensen is vocal, moans in their kisses and Jared loves the effort and the devotion he shows already. Jared pulls Jensen’s clothes off and bathes in the glow of this beautiful sight. Jensen’s skin is flawless, soft. It’s a joy touching him. Jensen pulls him in another kiss and arches in the leader’s strong arms - so responsive, in every way! 

“I want to try it,” Jensen then whispers, shakily.

“What exactly?”

“Take you. Suck you.”

Jared chuckles and gets up, pulls Jensen along on his lap. Jensen’s hand is big, he has deliciously thick fingers and Alex would appreciate some good fingering from him. He should introduce these two a little later

Jensen slides between Jared’s legs, who’s supporting himself with his arms to be able to watch Jensen try and gag on his cock. Jared senses some of his sisters and brothers coming closer, silently, to not interrupt them in their exploration ritual. He can’t blame them for being curious, and this is the exact purpose of their monthly gathering. Enjoy each other freely. 

Jensen’s mouth waters and when he opens his lips, a thick streak of drool runs down his face and chin. He doesn’t hesitate to bend down and wrap his lips around Jared’s tip.

A moment of breathless silence from everywhere. 

Jensen. slides. deeper. 

Jared moans and his head falls between his shoulder blades, so that he can see the clear starry night sky.

He will stop now, it’s too much. Oh God it’s too much, he can’t do it, Jared thinks, and then he starts praying Please let him go deeper. 

Jensen’s mouth feels tight, soft, and hot and he produces so much drool, it makes it messy. Perfectly messy. Jared’s head falls foward again and he watches Jensen taking him inch by fucking inch. Jared’s cock disappears in Jensen’s tight throat to the root. Jared stays perfectly still and tries to not even move a hair’s breadth. Jensen’s hand slightly presses on Jared’s stomach and then pulls away slowly. Painfully slowly, while working Jared’s incredibly thick shaft with his tongue. As soon as he’s able to look up to Jared everyone can see streaks of tears in his angelic face and his flushed cheeks. He keeps on working Jared’s tip, circling the bundle of nerves under the tip and then, with a high pitched gasp, pulls away completely.

He looks over to Jared and smiles. “Did I do good?”

Jared nods. It’s been ages since someone took him completely. It takes all of his willpower to not grab in Jensen’s hair and force his mouth down again to suck him off.. and then fuck his recruit’s face. He would gag and whine so pretty…. Jared needs a moment to breathe in and out very deeply, call himself to reason. 

“You are perfect,” he says, his voice shaky. “By the Angels, you are the best.”

Jensen blushes even deeper and looks away. He notices the other believers have gathered around them. Jared combs through his hair. He feels that Jensen now really is shy.. that’s not a show.

“Don’t bother, my dear. They won’t touch you if you don’t want to. I’m here for you and only you. Okay?”

Jensen nods. “So I really did good? Did no one before me take you that deep? I mean it’s a bit tricky but -”

Some of the watchers moan. 

“Did I say something wrong?”

“They all tried, dear. And failed. I guess you just earned yourself a title.”

Some of the watchers lurk in the dark, some are illuminated by the fainting bonfire. The sound of drums is gone. Jared watches Jensen look around and get used to it, after all. Then he turns to Jared and grins.

“I will work to keep the title then…,”

Jared pushes his delicious mouth on his cock again, and yes, fuck, holy fuck YES, Jensen can take him. He takes him so deep that Jared can feel his throat tighten and contract, but he’s not gagging in the bad way. Tears fall and drool runs down his reasonably thick shaft. Jared’s hand grips in Jensen’s hair and pulls. Jensen utters a surprised but pleased moan and keeps going faster and faster. One hand sneaks around Jared’s balls and massages them. Jared’s hips buck up and Jensen needs a break for a second, deep, hectic breathing, his teary eyes, the rest of the bonfire glistens in his eyes. Jared has a hard time holding back his possessive nature when Jensen just worships him like that. Faint and aroused moans around them show Jared that the others enjoy Jensen’s show as well. Some couples even have started fucking. Girls stand close by, rubbing their swollen and wet parts. 

“Look around,” he orders Jensen, “look around, how much love you spark.”

“Your voice… so deep… so much deeper,” Jensen is still fighting for breath. It makes Jared only crazier. 

“That’s you, you do that to me.” 

Jensen’s hand is still stroking him. Jared would be ready to come just now, preferably he’d shoot his massive load right in his throat, but what he wants even more, what’s the source of the deepest aching is the longing to finally be inside someone fully. He wants to ram his cock in Jensen up to the root and make him come first, then Jared could let go. 

“You’re close,” Jensen whispers and presses a kiss on Jared’s lips. “I swallow if you’re into that…”

Jared’s answer is a low and growl. “What I really want…”

“Let me guess… you want to fuck me? Here in front of all these people?”Jensen sounds out of breath, thrilled, over excited. His hands are shaking when he pulls himself on Jared’s lap.

Jared holds him close, his raging, painfully hard cock pressing on Jensen’s asshole. It’s slick from all this spit, but he wouldn’t dare to just enter him now, without warning. Without giving him something to chew on while Jared has to push his way in. 

“Free love. My pleasure is their pleasure,” Jared manages to say. He’s very proud to have that uttered in a manner that makes him seem still in control of himself. 

Jensen laughs quietly and then climbs down Jared’s lap. He stands up. And everyone can take a look at this beautiful body, shaped by God to strike people in awe. His own cock is thick and looks just delicious, Jared might want to get a taste one day, too. Then Jensen turns around and lowers on all fours, his perfectly shaped ass in Jared’s direction, head down, almost submissive. 

“Make your pleasure my pleasure,” he whispers, only Jared seems to hear it. 

Men and women formed a crescent around them now, the opening pointing to the dying fire. Jared licks his lips while he squeezes a very lavish amount of oil in his hand. He doesn’t cover his cock yet, he will help Jensen first. He enters him with one finger and Jensen bucks away first, in surprise but then lowers himself on the finger, starts fucking himself with it. His broken and sweet moans make Jared’s blood boil and also the participants around them start jerking harder. One hand gesture from Jared, and his followers stop. They shouldn’t finish before Jensen does, that’s just and right. 

“More,” Jensen demands, looking behind him with big teary eyes. His pupils are tiny and the iris of a thick and rich green. Jared gives him more. Jensen literally sucks the second finger in and when Jared starts massaging his prostate from outside with his thumb, Jensen cries out, stretching more and swallowing Jared’s long fingers to the root. He gasps tiny “oh god’s” and “fuck’s”. And then Jared isn’t able to hold the urge back and test if Jensen really is what Jared needs. Someone who fits him. He covers his long member with a lot of oil and also spreads generous amounts around Jensen’s anus.

“You think you’re ready, yeah?”

Jensen nods. “Positive.”

He even grabs his buttcheeks and pulls them apart, Jared has perfect sight of his slightly mouthing, dilated hole and all he has to do… He gulps violently, but then places his tip on Jensen’s entrance and sloooowly pushes in. Inch for inch. Jensen has to let go of his buttcheeks and his hands press on Jared’s hips.

“Holy… sh…”, Jensen huffs, “Is swearing even allowed?”

“Too much?”

“It’s a lot, but not too much… fuck…” 

Jensen breathes heavily but slowly, as slowly as Jared goes, his hands don’t push against him anymore and Jared can slide in even deeper. He’s amazed by how Jensen’s hole just swallows him, inch by delicious inch. He’s tight, extremely tight, thanks to the thick oily lube he won’t be hurt. Quite the opposite. Jared pushes in, freezes and rubs over Jensen’s back, soothing him. Jensen doesn’t need that much soothing though, after a few seconds of Jared holding perfectly still and just twothree inches away from going inside all the way he sinks against Jared’s hips, taking him fully with a low, needy moan that seems to last an eternity. 

“Please… move…” he moans, while Jared still holds Jensen’s hips and stares. Just stares in awe.

He really did it.

Jared can’t believe it’s really happening, that he feels so close to someone, again, finally, after such a long time. As he doesn’t start moving, Jensen rolls his hips back and forth, his back stretches and his hands clawing in the blanket. He just fucks himself on Jared’s member, doesn’t wait any longer and the moans he utters are - there is no other word -- they’re downright vulgar. It shows how much he lets go and it washes Jared away, his fingertips dig into Jensen’s hips as he meets his recruit’s pace. Now Jensen cries out, the words and moans just drop from his lips, he wants more, and Jared can feel how greedy he is. 

The audience around them is a choir of pleasure sounds, each of them takes Jared up so high he feels like he’s more than drunk. More than high. He feels like he’s elevating.

“Jared… Harder!” 

Jared fucks him harder. Jensen around him stretches and clenches like he wants to milk him dry, make him cum, but not now. It’s too good to let it end too early, he’s been starved too long and he wants to enjoy every second of fucking this angelic but oh so slutty adept. No one ever met his pace, wanted to be fucked harder and harder, no one asked to be sore, but Jensen does.

His moans are so loud his voice breaks and trails off, chokes on his own sounds. Jared loses it at this point, he grips in Jensen’s glossy hair and pulls him on his knees, closer to his body. Pounding his ass now makes beautiful wet sounds. Jensen leans on Jared’s chest and reaches for the prophet’s ass to push him deeper. And deeper.

“Can’t get enough, huh?”Jared growls, his hand in Jensen’s hair is pulling stronger, the other on Jensen’s hip holds him steady. “Want every inch of me?”

Jensen nods, sobbing. “Yes, never been fucked so good… just how I need --” He can’t even finish the sentence, Jared’s mighty deep thrusts make his voice fade into a cry. “Oh, God!”

Jared needs to slow down just for a bit, give himself time to breathe and hold back the orgasm that’s building up. He’ll shoot a massive load for sure, he wants it to be worth it. He bites Jensen’s neck and feels the violent shudder. They cling onto each other, hands in hair, fingernails scratching and leaving red trails. 

“No, no, don’t stop now… I’m so close,” Jensen huffs, turns his head to Jared, their lips meet and Jared kisses him until both are too breathless, too close to be gentle or patient. 

When Jared picks up his pace again it’s only a matter of a few seconds until Jensen cries out and sinks back on all fours, hiding his face in the blanket. He doesn’t have to touch himself to cum, with a loud and guttural sound he spills. And spills. It’s such a mindblowing orgasm. Everything about it is perfect. Jensen’s moans, how he pulls out handfuls of grass. His clenching asshole around Jared. The amount of cum he splatters on the sheets. Jared bends forward, pulls Jensen’s face up and turns it to the crowd.

“Let them look at you,” he hisses, “share the love.”

And then Jared cums, grunting and thrusting as deep as he can. His cock pumps and pumps masses. He’s never come so hard, so long, so satisfying. For a couple of seconds he doesn’t know anymore where he ends and Jensen begins, that’s how good and intimate it feels. Jensen’s tightness squeezes him tight and makes it impossible to move or pull out. 

Jared collapses on Jensen’s back. He’s dizzy. He needs a moment.

Around them the noises turn from moans to grunts. Heavy breathing. Jared gestures to the watchers to stop jerking. He wants to have Jensen for himself for another moment when he pulls out. Jensen winces underneath him but his face just shows blissful exhaustion. Jared loves to watch his cum pouring out his partner’s holes and it’s no different tonight. Not after this divine intervention. Not after he’s been blessed with such a partner. 

It’s a lot. Jensen turns his head to Jared, his face puffy and red, strands of wet blonde hair on his forehead. And now there’s the hint of a smirk. 

“Did I do well?” he asks.

“I think you know…” Jared replies.

His hand strokes Jensen’s still half hard cock and Jensen moans. So sensitive. Next time, Jared might return the favor and suck that pretty cock.

“Your brothers and sisters want to show you how much they enjoyed watching you.”

Jensen looks around, then back to Jared.

Now the smirk is undeniable. 

“Let ‘em come.”

Jared gets up, his muscular body beaming in the light of the moon and embers of the fire. He feels like he’s about to rise above anything and anyone. This union has given him the deepest peace he could ever feel. He still feels painfully hard and when he looks down he still is. His glossy cock perks up, but he won’t take Jensen a second time and risk really tearing him apart. 

Jensen is on his knees, arms stretched forward like a satisfied lioness, sticking out his freshly bred ass to the audience.

“Children. Time to welcome Jensen in your midst.”

Alex approaches Jared to wash him off with a fresh wet cloth and a sponge while the others gather around Jensen. No one touches the recruit, after Jared united with him, but he will be showered in attention and much more.

Two days later, Jensen is still a bit sore. 

He didn’t sleep much on the night of the celebration, he’s been too hyped, too high from the rush of alcohol, adrenaline and sex. Especially the sex. He can still feel Jared’s massive pole in his ass and everytime he gives in to the memory he shudders and feels his white robe tent. 

Everything in this commune is white. The community houses in which the members live, white. The Church, white. Jared’s residence, white. The only thing that seems to be different is the massive wooden chair in which Jared sat during the celebration and watched his followers unify. 

The blankets are white, the towels, the plates. Purity is an important pillar of this group, and everyone who’s not familiar with the customs might argue that collective orgies aren’t really pure, but Jensen knows better already. Purity is based on keeping your body healthy. The diet here isn’t vegan, but the community has their own farm. 120 people need food and water. Most of them live and work here. On the farm where vegetables and fruits are grown seasonally, or they take care of the cattle, pigs and chickens. Others help keep the houses intact. 

Days are warm, the nights are pitchblack, there’s a lake and a river closeby. Women wash the clothes of the community. There is no “mine” and “yours” in the Church. There is only “we” and “us” and “our”. 

Jensen has his own room, because the morning after the orgy, after the morning prayers and morning sports, in the great hall at breakfast, Jared proclaimed that Jensen was indeed heaven sent. Chosen by the Angels. That makes him special enough to have his own room for a while and it helps him acclimate in this environment. Most new members need that. They come from their picket fence life in the suburbs or the pulsing lives of a big city. They had day jobs, night jobs, family, addictions and almost everyone of them has been materially wealthy. 

Everything that keeps them away from living a pure, devoted life with God is taken away here. Jared provides everything they need. 

Some take a week to find their place in the community, some struggle for years. Some pack their bags as soon as they realize that the sense community here also consists of freedom in love, friendships. Children are born in this community and are raised by everyone, not only their genetic parents. No one here claims to own someone or something.

Well.

At least they say so.

Alex’s room is - as it’s appropriate for his position - in Jared’s residence. This morning he decided to cut his shoulder long, honey blond hair and trim his long beard.

Purity doesn’t mean to be shaven clean or have short hair. Purity comes from the heart, free will and the ability to love. Alex doubts he is quite pure at the moment. The community is free of the toxicity of a material life - in the community, you don’t aspire to climb up ranks. There are simply only three ranks. The community, Alex, Jared. Jared is their natural leader, it is supposed to be like that. Alex is chosen. Alex is confident.

He was. His heart is full of love for the cause and for Jared. 

Until a few nights before he looked in the mirror every morning and smiled at his reflection. Because the reflection showed him a confident young man of faith. Full of love, not bound but blessed with free will. 

Then, his heart started to hurt. 

Now he hates his blue eyes, he hates his long hair, he hates the beard. He hates that he isn’t able to provide Jared the one thing he ached for.

It feels like an inconsistency of Jared’s teachings. Or Alex just isn’t at the point of enlightenment he always thought he was. He finds the fault in himself rather than Jared. But he likes it most thinking that it’s Jensen’s fault.

Jensen with the dazzling green eyes that tantalize Alex. And his damn ability to merge with Jared. Something no one in the community ever could provide. 

Alex hates that someone other than him satisfies Jared in any way.

When he looks in the mirror he sees the man who came here all these years ago when Jared’s predecessor was still alive. The man who crashed here after drugs and sex addiction ruined his life.

Growth is something that never stops. And any day you don’t work through your struggles puts you one step further away from divinity and back into the life of materiality and toxicity.

Jared mustn’t know.

Alex stares blankly in the mirror while he shaves his beard off. Completely.

It takes a few days generally for the community to calm down after such a night. Jared knows that. He feels sore himself, but in a good, satisfying way. His community is thriving, they have new members. Fresh blood. The prayers are inspiring. Jared insists on holding the divine services all by himself. These days he’s beaming with love and the rich and satisfying feeling of being connected. This is Jensen’s merit. His sensuality, his sexual aura, everything about him reminds Jared of the Archangel Michael, the fiery son of God who guarded Eden. Everything about Jensen seems to set Jared on fire. And not only Jared. The others feel it too. The women, the men, everyone stares when he passes. It takes Jared a lot of introspection, prayer and exercise to not just drag him back in his bed. Jared is known for being considerate, kind, and balanced. He leads these people on their path to God and divinity, he is their idol. The true Vicar of the Holy Father. Preferring Jensen in his first month here would weaken his own strong will. He’s sure this man is sent by his Father to heal his hurts, but he needs to care for his community first. 

Jared must not be selfish. He obeys the Lord and he will follow His guidance wherever it may take him. When he knows that his community is safe. 

After morning’s prayer and exercise Jared retreats to the communal bath. Alex prepared everything like always. He’s shaven clean and his hair is way shorter than before. While Jared sinks in the hot tub, Alex hesitates to accompany him. He looks bitter. Some of the old worry lines reappeared. Jared makes an inviting gesture.

“Come in, Alex.”

Today, Jared notices, it sounds like more than an order. 

Alex first shakes his head, but then looks up and his face softens. The lines disappear. He undresses and joins Jared for a bit.

Jared pulls him on his lap, it’s unusual for Alex to be physically distant. He recognizes his assistant has a razor cut on his chin. He runs his thumb just right under it and Alex inhales sharply.

“Why did you shave your beard?” he asks.

Alex looks away, bites his lip. His tooth gap is adorable. 

“I didn’t like it anymore.”

Jared frowns. 

“Do you doubt yourself?”

A scoff. Jared knows he just hit a nerve. Alex never scoffs at him.

“It’s just hair,” he replies. Now he even sounds a bit defiant. 

“Alexandros.”

Alex stiffens. Jared has a habit of calling him by his full name when he fucks up, just like a mother would.

Jared cups his face and looks straight in those bright blue eyes and he sees the vulnerable boy that Alex still is. His progress is phenomenal, but part of him will always stay in the darkness he escaped. 

Alex writhes but doesn’t honestly struggle against him. 

“Your looks are not important. Be careful with your heart.”

A faint nod. Jared kisses his forehead, then his lips. Suddenly no writhing, no defiance, no stubborn behavior. Alex is pliant. Good.

“I have to go”, Alex mumbles, “I have to prepare our departure to Seattle… Our original flight was cancelled…” 

Jared nods. Actually he has no desire to attend this event, but as the leader of this religious community, he has to fulfill some duties. Like going to charity events. It’s not that he hates charity, quite the contrary, as a son of God, it’s his pleasure and deepest wish to make the world a better place, but he hates the whole attention. He hates being compared to apocalypse cults or worse. His teachings are as pure as they can get under given pretenses and the struggle of humanity to overcome the Great Tribulation. 

Alex knows. “I know you don’t want to go. But I will make it worth the trip.”

“You always do.”

Alex gets up with slightly shaky legs and a very impressive erection. When he jumps back in his clothes he even turns away. Suddenly he is so shy. When they’re back from Seattle, Jared will have to hold some very intense prayer and service sessions with Alex. He seems in need of healing. And that’s what Jared was chosen for. Provide for people like Alex.

Alex isn’t gone for five minutes when Jared hears a shuffling behind him.

“Did you forget something, Alexandros?”

Someone’s clearing their throat and it’s not Alex. When Jared turns around he sees Jensen standing in the entrance, blushing and looking at his feet.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… umm, am I disturbing you?” 

Jared’s face lights up and he turns around fully, crossing his arms on the brim of the pool. Jensen is in his white robe, bread crumbs along his collar. He probably just ate breakfast. His hair is messy. 

“Not at all,” Jared replies, “usually, I don’t have guests when I bathe but you’re welcome to join today. You’re new, you can’t know.”

Jensen frowns. “Alex doesn’t count as a guest?”

“No. He is wherever I am, unless he doesn’t want to be.”

Now Jensen’s eyes glow. 

“Like now?”

Jared grins. 

“You are a cheeky one, aren’t you?” he asks.

Jensen stands there, looking at him like he’s about to say ‘yes’, but ultimately doesn’t. 

Jared gestures. “Come in already.” 

Ruffling of clothes tells him that his recruit followed his wish and now gets undressed. A moment later Jensen slides in the water beside Jared, about an arm’s length away. His cheeks turn pink.

“Are you well?”Jared asks, just as the caretaker of his people, he is always worried about them. Always ready to provide care if needed or wanted. 

Jensen’s teint turns even brighter. Ah. The orgy. It was surely his first time.

“I mean, I think I got a little rough with you there,” the leader admits.

Jensen shakes his head a little, a shy smile and a dreamy gaze show that Jensen might indeed be well. It would be reassuring to hear it though.

“No, no, it wasn’t rough at all but I would lie if I said I don’t still feel you inside me. It was a very world-shaking experience.”

“Uh-huh,” Jared replies, “it was.”

The memory alone makes Jared’s body fill with a need to do it again. Just right here. His pliant and slick body, how hot and tight and damn, how responsive and eager he was to take his cock. And that he succeeded!

Jensen turns to him, comes a little closer to get in touch, physically and Jared is very fond of the idea to have him close. Without a word, Jensen’s hand under the water’s surface, lays a hand on Jared’s thigh. Very close to his member. Flaccid. Yet. And still very big. Jared knows he’s gifted with this large cock and people who can take it, they won’t want anything else after they’ve tried it.

“I wondered, why, umm, everyone treats me like I’m super special, you do too…” Jensen’s eyes are fixated on the tiny waves his hand causes when he strokes along Jared’s thigh. “What makes me special?”

That is a very interesting question and Jared needs some time to think about it. Take deep breaths. It also shows that his new member has not ingrained all of the lore of the Church of Grace. That’s normal. No one knows it by heart after joining so recently. 

“Being special is a gift from the Lord, my Father. Everyone is special in their unique way. Take Alex. He’s devoted and tough, loyal and very good at organizing things. Ruth and Judith, you probably crossed their paths already, they’re the best cooks I’ve ever been blessed to taste. Also they are very skilled in sculpting. Everyone is special. Some special things seem to be common, like, so many people on this Earth are talented cooks, tailors, musicians, yogis. And you, you are special, because you give me a feeling of unity in such a primal way, it may seem succinct or superficial. What is it worth, being able to take me? It might not be special to others, but to me this is a thing that brings me peace. And this peace, I can multiply, share it with my people. And by the Lord, it’s not only your physical perks. The way your brothers and sisters here look at you. Some are jealous, but most see in you the most important addition to the community in years. You have a spark in you and you will do great things for the Church. I’m sure of it.”

Jensen stares and Jared notices the slight squint of his deep green eyes. His utter beauty is a gift to humanity already. He radiates purity. If he knows that?

“Is that understandable for you?” Jared asks. He lays a hand in Jensen’s neck and gently squeezes. Pulls him closer. Just an inch but it’s enough to feel Jensen way better and catch his vibes. 

“Yes, it is,” Jensen says, “I’m glad this community welcomed me, I’m glad I met you.”

Now he wraps his hand around Jared’s shaft, which is still too much and he won’t be able to embrace it completely. 

“I was worried, I am worried, it will be the only time to be close to you.”

“You will be close to me every day. At the service, at the monthly celebration. We share everything here.”

“But, can I be alone with you, just like now?” Jensen huffs, his grip tightens. Jared is just a man, his body reacts and he grows hard, so big that the tip would break the water surface now if Jensen let go. 

“I’m a man of my people, I will not deny you. To be honest, yes, I invite you to be with me.”

It would be so easy to lift Jensen up and let him sink down on his cock. It would be amazing to feel him right now. But he is still a little sore. Complete physical unity has to wait. 

“Jared…” A sigh. “What you made me feel that night… I think I felt closer to my true self than ever.”

“I’m glad this is helping you. There will be a lot of occasions for you to discover your deepest self, your fears, your worries… Everything will come to light and I know, you will overcome, you will shine and rise above your plain human being.”

Jensen’s hand moves now. He knows how to touch a man, strictly physical. It's a mechanical reaction after all, but when Jared looks deep into these green eyes he discovers his own need and how much he suffered without a mate that would be close to him. 

“Tell me, how do you like it… I feel it, I need it… you need it…?”

“I long for it.”

Jared wraps his hand around Jensen’s to guide him with the strokes.

He wants it to build up slowly, and his hand on Jensen’s neck holds him steady, whispering his instructions to keep eye contact, when to slow down and when to get faster. And Jensen is all in with it, he’s passionate, his tiny moans and curses, just from seeing Jared, make it extra hot. Actually Jared doesn’t need to climax here, because the mere anticipation of his partner is more than satisfying. They sink in a kiss when Jared’s instructions turn into a breathless staccato of ‘yes like that’s. He’s noisy when he comes and jerks in Jensen’s hand, forceful first but rapidly turning lazy and soft. 

“Teach me more,” Jensen whispers, his face burning red, making his freckles pop even more.

Jared's head sinks on Jensen’s chest. 

“About what?”

“About, what you like, how you like it… how we… connect… unify… Physically, I know… I can do that,” Jensen bites his lip.

“But you don’t know how it works spiritually?”Jared asks, placing a kiss on Jensen’s freckled shoulder. 

“Is that a stupid question?”

A headshake. Why should it be? But Jared knows, Jensen is insecure, he longs for answers and guidance. 

“Believe me, you didn’t ask a stupid question so far. You crave unity?”

Jensen nods.

“Just like you do.”

“I would love to show you more of it. But I will have to go to a congress in Seattle in three days. Alex and I will be gone and you’ll be on your own for a couple of days,” Jared replies. There is indeed some longing in his voice. 

“Oh, that is… it will be long and I’m new, I…”

Jared clicks his tongue while he combs Jensen’s hair. “You don’t have to worry, everyone will take care of you. They will do what I’d do. You will be shown around.”

Jensen shakes his head. His muscles stiffen just lightly.

“That’s not my worry, but- I wish I could be with you.”

This causes Jared’s eyebrows to raise. He wants to be with Jensen, too. Show him the world that Jared lives in and help with the settling. It’s hard to find a place in a community. Jared also fears (and hopes) that Jensen found a way in his heart.

“You are with me. And you will be. You belong to the community now.”

Jensen winds.

“I mean… could you… I would like to go to Seattle. With you…”

“And Alex,” Jared corrects.

“And Alex,” Jensen confirms.

There is no reason to say ‘no’, but there is also no reason to say ‘yes’ that is justifiable. Jensen is new. But he’s shown commitment and he wants to learn. They would bond. Jared wants it. Badly.

“Will it put your heart at ease when I say yes?”

Jared smiles and it’s a knowing one. Jensen smiles. He also knows. 

“Yes, it would.”

The way Jensen smiles and blushes is cute, maybe a little staged. Jared’s not an idiot, he knows that Jensen is wooing him. Trying to impress. Wants to appeal. He already does, there is no need to be overly pliant. Jared enjoys the attention though, who would judge him for it? He presses a kiss on Jensen’s lips and their hug turns closer, just like the last minutes of touching didn’t exist. Jared wouldn’t complain about that, either. 

“Thank you,” he utters before he can think it through.

“For what?”

Jared squeezes Jensen’s growing cock. 

“For giving me - peace.”

Peace is not the only thing Jared wants to thank his disciple for, but Jensen’s soft moan drowns any further thoughts. He wants to merge. Now. He doesn’t want to wait. Not for them to be in his room or Jensen’s. Just take him here.

Alex listens to the quiet conversation that turns into moans and splashing, Jared’s deep and ground shaking grunts. He would be a big fat liar if he claimed to be untouched by it, even Jensen’s soft noises make him rock hard. But what he feels in his heart and what he feels in his body, these two things diverge wildly from each other. He shoves a hand in his pants and hates himself for it. But who he hates more is Jensen. He will take Jared away from him. 

That mustn’t happen.

Alex has to do something about it. Soon.

[violet975]

Random thoughts.

So i replayed BOTW a while ago for the first time and decided to write down some of the random thoughts that i get while exploring Hyrule, here they are.

… A lot of these things gave me some fanfic ideas and I hope that they will do the same for someone more competent.

It's realty in character that the response to being asked why you took the man's torch is either to bludgeon things to death with it or to be a pyromaniac.

When the tower pedestal shines, Link instinctively leans back for a second before diving right back in because curiosity kills the cat.

The message from the slate/tower is to watch out for falling rocks which either means that 

1: zelda is writing them (and has a fair bit of free reign still).

2: the ancient Sheikah could see the future.

3: Ai to the likes of Fi.

Ganon kinda reawakens when the towers are up so maybe he was resting and building a body until he was interrupted here, which could be why his form later is such a hodgepodge of the Blights?.

Link is not too naive since he kinda clamps up in his answers to the totally unimportant old man.

Did Link briefly make eye-contact with the camera when he got the spirit orb!?

Link is a bit freaked out in his "How did you know!?" Response cas now he knows something major is up when the old man directly mentions the spirit orb.

Again, in character that you can choose to be an impatient brat with the "paraglider please?" Or inquisitive when Roam points out the slate.

Either run out of temper with the "that wasn't the deal!" Or be resigned with "so I need more now?" When the old fart sends you off to the other three shrines.

Ohh, another adrenaline junkie option with the "got it!" Over climbing the tower for a good view or a Deadpan "are you joking?".

"Or so i heard quite some time ago.. I do not know if it actually works as such" so they did not get teleporting to work before? or he just didn't learn how it was done.

So the monks, according to how the Triforce signs they held, apparently associate Power with Magnesis, Wisdom with bombs, Stability with stasis and Courage with cryonis?

The monks dissipate into green specks like Ganon’s soul does under the castle!

I'm not into men but damn if Link doesn't look good in the Warm Doublet.

Oh. My. God, he was King Rhoam Bosphoramus Hyrule!!!!!

Link is such a dumbass, you get to ask Kass "are you a ...bird?" As if the man isn't standing right in front of you. No shit Sherlock! What next, is that a recorder?.

OhhohoHO! You either say "no(, i have not heard of them)" or "Ancient songs?" As if you do not initially realize why they are thought to be ancient which either is old memories warring with the now world or Link not realizing what impact The Calamity had on culture.

Another flat-faced sarcastic remark everyone!

When Manny mentions that his job is checking for beauties/sus people you can either be a dumb dunce and ask about the said beauties or a little menace with "sounds though".

Manny is an Incel, talks a big game and puts himself on top of a pedestal alongside being demanding and a creep.

Does Hateno not have a goddess shrine? Just the ~Evil~ one?

There is a pair of rusty knights sword and shield by the leftmost part of the walkway of Fort Hateno. Some knight probably died laying there, watching out over the field of guardians having been/being purged by Zelda.

A traveler (Chelessa) is interested in history and wants to question Impa about it, and is on her way to do so in fact. . Describes her personality as very pleasant, that must be wrong.

The Yiga know exactly how Links first waking moments played out so either they have extensive knowledge about his character and the setup of the Shrine Of Resurrection or Ganon was watching in on Zelda's call and relayed it to a minion in the clan.

"Hero boy" - derogatory.

Arrow in the eye of the bridge at the entrance of Kakariko, the Yiga are petty and I love it.

Piano's (the painter) hair bun thing that is styled like a pencil has paint on the tip... this man painted with his hair.

So the great fairy Cotera makes it sound like she will enchant your gear because you rejuvenated her, not because you bring the materials to do the enchanting.

The levels of enchantment seemingly depends on physical closeness to the Fairy (blow< indirect kiss< kiss < sex)

She can not enchant beyond Lv 1 without her sister's help, so they share power?

Paya specifies that they have watched over the Orb since the grandmother of the grandmother of Impa, that's 9 whole generations of long lived Sheikah! roughly 1000 years of recorded history!

Again with Link being a dense Shonen protagonist with "where is it?" Or a sly bastard with "really, though?"... maybe so that she would want to prove it ;) 

…”I'll answer you some day, just not today!”

Either Paya is just not ready for that or she is so nervous that she did not think about the fact that her own grandmother was in the room when she said it!

“Served the royal family in secret” so it's not common knowledge that the royals have a village of Magic ninjas!? No wonder it took a damn demon to topple it instead of rebellion or infighting... probably has been like this since the old old king banished 'em.

"The royal family was destroyed, and the members of our tribe scattered."- okay so it was probably some Sheikah that either thought the royal family was completely extinct and either fled or, according to this next bit- "Sadly, there were some who swore allegiance to Ganon at that time. They joined together as the Yiga Clan, seeking out all who opposed Ganon... cutting them down, one after another." 

So from that we get to know that not all Sheikah deserters became enemies (unless the Sheikah dislike defectors enough to hunt them down) and others who either joined an existing opposing group or simply up and created the Yiga clan that then aligned itself with Ganon... probably under either the belief that Hylia's line was extinct and that it was join or die or because they wished to spite the goddess and her followers.

I actually like this way more because it makes no sense that the Yiga could survive before the Calamity when the Royals would have an entire damn country and anbu black-ops to hunt them down with.

"Master link, now that you are awake, you are surely the most formidable opponent standing against them!" Either hero worship or the Sheikah are freshly out on capable warriors with Ninja magic tricks, probably the latter which would explain why the world isn't infested with Lynels or why hynoxes haven't just trampled every settlement.

"No doubt they will come for you, employing whatever underhanded methods they can device" 

oh come on! Do not tell me that i'm stuck with the goodie two shoe ninja clan!? Underhandedness is your bread and butter! No wonder you served the royals in secret because you and them by proxy would have been a laughingstock otherwise!!!

"The great fairy Cotera... few remain who know that this village was built under her watchful eye." So the village is fairy new and the Yiga came about before Kakariko or it is old and so well protected that they can't get in... at least not easily.

"The mysterious power of Cotera is that of sacred protection..." so the Great fairies are linked to either Hylia or the gods, good to know.

So it’s not that Cotera “-would be happy to help” but, instead “i can't think of any reason why she wouldn't be happy to help you”. so either she only directly helps men or the earlier "you can put your trust in the great fairy" means that she judges more favorably for the chosen hero.

"I heard that the weather is going to be beautifully tomorrow... to bad you won't be alive to enjoy it"

So they have weather accurate~ich prediction? through magic or old time methods?

Again: Hero boy - derogatory... It's a common nickname for Link within the Yiga.

The lush green shrine could tell that a buck was on it, so the platforms are most definitely scanners.

A travelers sword by a campfire at the foot of mount Lanayru, so someone either took a swim and died to the Lizardfo, dramatically quit or got killed in their sleep.

Love the effect when you have metal weapons on the ground and swing a ThunderBlade!

You automatically reflect the Octorock's rocks, goes faster if you do it manually.

There is a hollowed out part of a hill/mountain with a lot of fic potential to the North-West of the Sword by the campfire.

Located where the lines meet if you draw a line to the right from Rabia plain and up from Trotter's Downfall.

Koko of Kakariko has been deceived by my cunning and slight-of-hand. 

Yes, Sagessa (woman by the lake of the Dueling peaks stable), there is, in fact, something "quite romantic" in Link's "endeavor" to save Zelda, thank you for noticing!

The chests inside the shrines can only (non-violently) be opened by use of the Sheikah slate so why not steal a few? prefect safe-keeping for more stuff to keep in Links house.

Dunce moment everyone! 

The Yiga traveler tries to seduce Link and you either go with "OK..." so he either has no damn idea about what is going on or is just not good with women? 

Orrrrr you go with a straight "I refuse!" cas you see through their ruse and want to rub their face in the dirt!

According to Mina the Hylian, taking out two Bokoblins is considered as great martial caliber which both she and her traveling companion could not do while decently armed.

Best way to deal with a guardian scout when you have weak weapons: hit with electricity, switch weapon, hit 2-5 times, switch to electric, repeat.

When you first enter the area around Hyrule Castle, smoke Ganon throws a fit until Zelda slaps him away. 

This either means that Zelda canonically gets a larger workload from there on and out or that the both of them push harder against each other every time you get close.

According to Zelda's diary, Link was assigned as her guard after the champions had been appointed.

How Link was focused on her yet did not voice his thoughts apparently "makes my imagination run wild!". Either romantic or dense.

Link admits to staying quiet because of the pressure of being the boy chosen by the sword. 

King Rhoam mentions that he decided to honor THE royal family's traditions by naming his daughter Zelda, and that he is "not a man accustomed to frivolous musings". 

Basically confirming that he is not the parent of royal blood.

They probably knew about The Calamity for a good while cas the page after zelda's naming speaks of the fortune teller, probs 3-8 years since Zelda was described to already have vast interest in the relics.

Pikango gets up at 10 past 5, I spent the night watching him and Beetle sleep.

According to all known laws of aerodynamics, Rito should not be able to fly, is Revali's gale then just an absurdly strong variation of some kind of sky Arcanum that all Rito possess? Do all the races possess one as Well?

Slimes ate the Bokoblins in the tree base at the center of the west Hyrule fields.

Savelle is a helpful guy without a pension for violence.

Munk Shae Loya is just flexing on all the other Munks, those old farts need to sit down while he's been squatting on one leg the last 10'000 years.

Chork of the Tabantha Bridge Stable is drunk.

Toren is either naive or a simp for the Faireys.

If you have the Hylian hood equipped with no weapon while riding at max speed then your cape will flap.

"Sweet boy..." "...I see now that my first impression of you was correct. You most definitely are pleasant to look at." 

So link has some kind of presence/soul-thingy that appears pleasant to mystical creatures? Might be the spirit of the hero or this link in particular.

The Fairy Kaysar makes Link blush! No player input needed! We’ve found one of his types!... either that or he's just shy.

The fairies almost never use normal materials to enchant, it's always either monster parts that don't dissipate or things that grow in magical arias.

The Sheikah towers are sturdy as all hell, the Tabantha tower did not even get a scratch from a giant fucking pillar falling on it.

Okay, am I just crazy or is a Lizardfo and a Moblin holding a class for 5 bokoblins just to the left of the Tabanta fairy fountain!?

Lester, the wise curry rice guy at Rito Stable, describes Link as sunny boy, another point to the soul/aura theory thingy.

Phontos laughs to hide the pain.

According to the story that Kass sings. 

Calamity Ganon was the result of sealing the enemy at its source.

It fought not only the spawn of the Goddess and the bearer of the Spirit Of The Hero but also the army of Guardians and the Champions that piloted the Divine Beasts for quite some time, as implied in the "and the guardians protected them throughout every hour".

So what i get from this is that the attack 10 000 years ago was the first sighting of what we know as calamity Ganon. 

It was also far stronger than the one that attacked 100 years ago which implies that that one was either a rush job or that Ganon bounds had been tightened, both of which would drive him to seek out other methods like corrupting the Guardians.

...And the Guardians are apparently powered by the ancient blue energy which was, time-line wise, first shown when the Golden Goddesses created the world.

No wonder that Ganon was capable of doing this since he most likely is running on fumes, spite and the power of the Triforce which likely is made of/channels said energy.

According to the rumor mill, you need the blood of the Hero in your veins to wield the Master Sword, if this is accurate then that means that Fi is sentimental or that Link has magic blood.

Wildberrys are fucking massive.

Genli (the salmon child) is a cunt, one kid was crying about someone Vah Medoh killed and then Genli is all like "no don't stop it, if you do then i have to go to class again!", She would fit right in with today's youth.

Monk Akh Va'quot has the best position so far, he is just done with your shit.

"You adventurers are Crazy" -> "you're right"

You get nothing if you melt all the ice by the Tabantha tower! You lose! Good day sir!

Monk Daka Tuss got bored during his self-inflicted quarantine and started stacking his arm bands.

Tula (the bathing Zora) said "wow either you are a Hylian or hideously deformed"

Phura has vandalized and mounted one of the spirit frog statues above her door.

Okay but the fucking noice that comes out of Bolson when you buy everything!! It's as if you just walked up and twisted his nuts with the power fit to shield block a Lynel’s charge.

Is the flower by Link's bed a Korok version of a Silent Princess?

The monsters of Hyrule are show to have interest in consumption based on three accounts. 

1: the Bocoblins and the Moblins by Hateno bay steal cattle. 

2: Hynoxes carry around warriors foodstuffs. 

3: Moblins (or at least the ones by the camp near the Serenne stable/forgotten temple) have a resting animation where they dig through the dirt and stuff something down their goblet.

...not to mention that nearly every camp has a bit of meat roasting by the fire.

Koyin has joined the fan-club!

God, the Naydra snowfield is fucking loaded in chill-shromes!

Stasis is perfect for looking for ingredients in forests, just open it, look around and bam! No more hidey hoe.

Why no shiny text for hylia's statue!?

I really do not like that they changed Naydra's colors when the malice was removed, they were so cool and then bam! White! White is not the color for ice and cold!

When praying by the spring of wisdom you are facing Hyrule castle, the same with courage and power if my memory serves me right.

...The master Torch

The Katona Aug shrine is just fucking mini-golf, how is that meant to prepare the hero?! Imagine how that Monk goes to the afterlife and has to look his fellows straight in the eye and admit that he was so lazy that not only did he make the hero play golf, not only was he so lazy that he made the Hero play mini-golf, but that he was so lazy that he did not even make a course! It is literally just a straight line!

Robie wants to see Links scars to verify that he is who he says that he is, Robie was likely one of the ninja that took Link to the shrine of resurrection.

Oh and Robin has two interesting sketches in his lab, the first is a detailed graph of a Sheikah tower so those were likely known about long before Link activated one (the one closest to Robin would be the one covered in malice and guardians so he could not have gotten enough detail from that one).

And the other is a sketch of what I believe is either a tier 2 or tier 3 guardian scout. Now, how can Robin know how that looks if only Link can/could enter shrines?

The Sheikah shrine that has the Barbarian helm is located at the end of the Sinai maze, did they just plop the shrine down there and steal the treasure of the ruin to later present to the hero?

There is one usable room in the citadel.

There is no compendium slot for the malice eyes that litter Naydra, Hyrule Castle and the Divine Beasts.

You can change the element of already elemental slime, not just the neutral kind.

Those head-spitting fuckers inside the divine beasts! They are partially reanimating mobs! So it's not that the Blood Moon is the time where Ganon is at his strongest, it's just where he chooses to revive everything.

The edge of duality can also be found in the shrine at the top of the dueling peaks.

[dclevinson]

August 21: my kaddish month

I’ve sent this to a number of people, but I’m putting it here too in case some readers who might be interested will stumble across it:

A little more than a month has passed since Cindy died, and I get asked a lot how I’m doing. My standard answer starts with a couple ways of framing:

 --- the earthquake is over, but there are lots of unpredictable emotional aftershocks

 --- I’m past the Shock & Numbness phase, but normal life doesn’t seem normal. Lots of How Can This Be Real moments that can be disorienting and distressing

 --- many times emotions collide: how much to lean into or away from grief, how to feel it’s OK to feel OK when I do, how keep her with me and move forward too, etc

 I suppose at some point a fascination with grief can start to make others uncomfortable, but grieving has a logic of its own. One key part of “after” life was the 30 days of daily religious services I attended to honor her memory.  I found the routine and --- surprisingly, the ritual --- spiritually nourishing. Cindy’s eyebrows always shot up at the word “spiritual.” Usually mine too. I hope those of you I send these four pages to don’t find it too tedious Perhaps it’s a way of keeping Cindy in your thoughts and hearts too…

       I am a most unlikely daily mourning ritual observer. I didn’t do it for my father, and he asked us not to. But the ritual mourning prayers and the place where I’d be doing it meant a lot to Cindy, so I just committed without much deliberation. One problem in writing about a fairly traditional type of observance is that the spectrum of Jewish religious practice can be mystifying, even to many Jews. So how explain it to outsiders? I’ve tried to do it without being either too reverent or irreverent.

 One basic mourning commitment is to say “kaddish”, the mourner’s prayer, for a set amount of time. Jewish practice and custom is intellectually intricate and often arcane; there are rules and exceptions to rules and different interpretations of rules, etc. There are other customs/demands for remembrance too. Many think of saying kaddish as a year long commitment. Plus yearly anniversaries, set to a moving Hebrew calendar --- just to add to the degree of difficulty. But even the year thing has permutations: actual practice for some groups is 11 months, not 12.

 Why?. Different interpreters and communities make their own choices on duration. Our ritual director says “eleven.” Basically, some 13th century source says that “the wicked in Gehinom took 12 months for their souls to reach the highest levels of heaven.” But most Jews don’t even believe in a physical heaven!? Never mind. So, the reasoning goes, if the wicked took 12 months, we’ll mourn for 11: because our beloved Was Not Wicked. Welcome to Talmudic reasoning. But, traditionally, the year(ish) is for parents and children. For spouses the allotted time is 30 days. Though many people today may just do a year for anyone in the family. Thirty struck me as the perfect amount for the act to stay meaningful, helpful and not something I would treat as an increasingly resented chore.

 It’s not a prayer that religious custom allows you to say by yourself. You need a minyan (quorum) of 10. It used to be men, but now men or women, at least at our conservative temple (shul, synagogue, whatever --- more insider confusing terminology). But some do say it by themselves for the comfort it brings if finding a group is too arduous. And I cheated a couple days by joining the group virtually. But I found being with a gathering of supporters did matter to me. I could have gone to a shorter evening service to do this, but preferred the morning time. And came to think a 40ish minute observance time a good block to have meaningful daily impact.

 And then there’s the prayer itself. I realized right away that the weekday morning prayer service had many different kaddishs, similar prayers of thanks for and praise to a divine entity. But there’s one specific mourner’s version, said 3 times in oour short 40ish minute service. Twice, almost in succession at the end --- overkill or emphasis, depending on your point of view. Why the repeats? Haven’t pursued that yet. And, as some of you know, the prayer for the dead doesn’t mention dying or losing loved ones or honoring their memory, etc. It just profusely praises God (and lots of different words or phrases to refer to such entity since he/she/it is too holy and all powerful to mention the Real Name). Some phrases: “May god’s name be exalted and hallowed, his sovereignty soon accepted… glorified, celebrated, lauded, worshiped, exalted, honored, extolled and acclaimed… Lots of current Jewish religious practice incorporates the Middle Ages wholesale. Or earlier. Read the English on the facing page of the prayer book and much of the service sounds like the practice of a small, threatened tribe huddling in the desert thousands of years ago.

 There’s a lot about Jewish practice that seems natural and essential to practitioners but might alienate the uninitiated.  Or reluctant observers like me. The head coverings. The shoulder covering prayer shawls. The standing for this (many do: why not all??!), turning right for that, covering eyes for this line, fingering prayer shawl strings (tzitzit) for that. Whew. So many prayers and practices for so many different occasions. Designed, I’ve thought, to cement the devotion of believers. But it repel skeptics, too, I surmise.

 One such example: in these early services most men put on tefillin. Leather straps with little black boxes attached (a prayer inside) that have very specific wrapping/unwrapping  procedures for arms and head. It’s deeply moving to believers, but I’ve always thought it look repellent or ridiculous. Way too much like the garb of the ultra orthodox “crazies.” There are lots of I’ll do this/not that decisions in religious practice. I understand there’s a tenuous dynamic that exists between any minority and majority community, and clinging to tradition and being true to oneself can seem preferable to “selling out” to fit in. But sometimes it strikes us skeptics as more a clinging to “guns and religion” type intransigence.

 So, if you walked in on these services cold (I was lukewarm), there’s lots that would be pretty mystifying and potentially off-putting. How could you possibly fit in? In fact, I believe I was the only new guy or gal over my month. And there had to be a decent number of temple members who have lost family members during the time I attended. Seemingly no person younger than I was doing the morning kaddish thing. And usually I was the only or 1 of 2 who didn’t put on tefillin. Men. Women usually don’t. Though one of our female rabbis did. Good for her, though I wasn’t tempted to follow.

 I could fit in and feel comfortable at these services because a) I knew people there b) I was committed to being there and c) people took care of me. I no longer bristled at the imputation (real or just in my head?) that I’m a Bad Jew and I need instruction to be a Good One. This time I felt many there had cherished Cindy, understood why I was there, and quietly welcomed me. I was willing to look/be ignorant and accept guidance.

 It was reassuring to see many of Cindy’s compatriots from the temple sisterhood there day after day too. The whole group (20 to 40 most days) was interesting to observe: lots more joking and side conversations during the service than I’d imagined. And there was the guy older than I who usually wore cycling shorts and shirt, the much older guy who sat to my right who usually shuffled in 15 minutes late, etc etc.  Lots of accomplished people and interesting stories for another writer’s version. And --- most days --- someone called out the pages so I had some sense where we were.

 I can read Hebrew if I already know the prayer or chant. So I can’t really read Hebrew anymore. Much of the service is praising God’s amazing powers, thanking him for singling out and helping Jews (don’t let anti-Semites see this!), an intricate mix of different intricate sections that over days start to fit a pattern. There are a always some bits in any prayer book that I find edifying and worth recalling; often I’m reading in one place when the service is in another. My favorite in this one:

Rabbi Schuel ben Nahmani said: We find that the Holy One created  everything  in the world; only falsehood and exaggeration were not God’s doing. People devised those on their own.

 There’s no sermon on any days, just the chanting. And different melodies for different sections. And torah reading ritual (I could spend pages on this alone) Monday and Thursday. I still have to learn why those days. I preferred the shorter days without.

 I was most fortunate to have a long time neighbor and, like Cindy, long time temple leader who I was delighted to learn (only some 30 some years later) is a regular attendee of daily morning services. Like Cindy, he has the ability I don’t to take what’s worthwhile in religious practice and ignore the rest. He credits Cindy with his reading the new alternate section of one prayer praising the Patriarchs (Abraham, Isaac, Jacob) by adding Matriarchs too.

 It’s not supposed to be used at this particular service, but a couple women who led services on a rotating schedule snuck it in. Much to my friend Rick’s and my glee. He joked about wanting to write: Minyan, the Musical. Have to decide how reverent or irreverent to be I replied. Yes he said, and some would love it, some hate it. Like so much else in life, I thought.

 There’s way more I could describe: the various “honors” during torah reading for one. Early on I got congratulated for pulling the strings to open the torah ark/cabinet. Basically, the only task our ritual director could be sure at that point I wouldn’t flub. One more key detail: I was wearing Cindy remarkable hand knit prayer shawl. Which, of course, many of her friends recognized. Once I made the mistake when taking it off at the service end of holding it to my face: way too emotional to repeat daily. Much more detail I could include, but there’s likely already too much. Ask me if you want more.

 I was asked to say a few words on the last day, right before the concluding prayers. I told people I was a most unlikely minyan attendee, etc. Grateful for this and that person’s help and Rebbe Rick’s (joke) guidance and company. Uplifted seeing Cindy’s sisterhood comrades, etc. Hoped in coming months to find an enduring way to honor her memory, etc.

 My one specific observation: I had been hearing people recite kaddish at Saturday services off and on for over 60 years.  But I’d never given a thought to the brief parts where the congregation joins in on a quick line. Just part of the practice I’d heard without really hearing. Until I was the mourner. Then, on many days when the congregation joined in…

       Y’he sh’meh rabbvo m’orach l’olam ulolmey olmayo…

 …on many days I felt my heart lifting and a wave of emotional support wash over me. This is why you should say kaddish in a minyan if at all possible. Or I hope in your tradition or life there’s some equivalent thing to bring you comfort when/if you need it. Em and I have been lighting candles at a set time each week also. That works for us too.

 The morning group skews old. But I hope that such a group is always there for anyone who needs it. I don’t want to attend any religious services daily. Or weekly. But this is my favorite service. I’ll be back. But on a day they don’t read torah. Forty minutes is plenty.

 I decided, too, that on day 30, I would take off my wedding ring. I sensed that if I didn’t tie that act to a ritual I might have a hard time doing it.

[sad-sweet-cowboah]

Mine Now

Summary: You’d been in the gang for a while now, and you’re sure that a certain blue-eyed cowboy has some feelings for you.

@verai-marcel‘s high honor/low honor writings intrigue me, so I wanted to take a page from her book and try it myself!

Tags and warnings: Violence, alcohol, smut, body worship, rough sex, overstimulation, slight dom/sub undertones

“Y/N.”

Settled on a crate just outside your tent, you peered up from the book you were reading. Arthur, one of your favorite people, stalked up to you, stopping just a couple of feet away.

“Whatcha readin’?” he asked nonchalantly.

“Ah, just some novel I grabbed last time we were in Valentine.” you responded.

“’Sit any good?”

You shrugged half-heartedly in response. “It’s okay,” you sighed, though it kept you from being bored all day. “Did you need something?”

He shifted in place, his eyes leaving yours to stare at the ground for a moment. He was silent at first, slowly lifting his head to meet you gaze again. “I got tip of a stagecoach headin’ towards Flatneck Station, holdin’ somethin’ good. ‘Sposed to be transferred to a train goin’ west. Gonna try and get it ‘for then. You in?” he asked.

Curiosity piqued, you put your book down. “Sure. Anyone else coming along?”

He shook his head. “Nah, jus’ you and me,” he paused. “That ain’t a problem, is it?”

“Of course not,” you answered immediately and stood up, smiling at him. “Just gimme a few minutes to get ready.”

He nodded, returning with a small smile of his own. “Ya know where to find me, then.”

Within ten minutes, you had gathered your supplies and mounted your horse. You rode with Arthur, side by side, loping down a dirt path in the forest. Arthur asking you to do missions with him wasn’t new; however, this was the first time you and him went alone together.

It’d been almost a year since you’d joined the infamous Van der Linde gang, being picked up by an enthusiastic Dutch after you tried to pickpocket him. You remember him entering a saloon with such a swagger that screamed rich. You were at the bar, scouting the crowd for some drunken fools that could unknowingly leave with lighter pockets that night.

You always got away with it, and you almost did that time. Hadn’t been for that same man riding alongside you that caught your action in the first place. You tried to scamper away, attempting to lose them by disappearing into the crowd. You’d managed to get outside, though ultimately cornered by two men shortly after. You however held your ground, defending yourself of your thievery by trying to smooth talk your way out of it.

Neither of them were convinced, though Dutch seemed intrigued by you. After a few minutes of talking, he offered you a place in his gang. And you, having nothing but the clothes on your back, agreed.

Life before the gang wasn’t easy. You’d been on your own since you were sixteen; your mother had died when you were very young. Your father, a somewhat poor farmer, had always tried his best to keep you fed and happy. He unfortunately had an accident while chopping wood, and despite your best efforts, his wound turned gangrenous without money for proper medicine. And without any known family nearby, there was not much you could do.

Originally you’d gotten a job delivering groceries for a shopkeeper. The job wasn’t glamorous and the pay wasn’t the best, it still meant three hot meals and a bed to sleep in. After a few years, the shopkeeper had passed in his sleep, and the shop was sold back to the town, leaving you once again with nothing.

You did a few odd jobs here and there, even had your hand at being a deluxe bathgirl. It didn’t last long due to the sheer amount of perverts that would come your way. Eventually, you’d come across a small group of thieves who taught you their ways. Rather than robbing people at gunpoint, they taught you to have nimble fingers and how to be sneaky. It was a decent setup, until one got a little too greedy and found himself on the noose just a day later. The others scattered, leaving you to fend for yourself once again.

You’d been on your own for a couple of months until Dutch and Arthur found you.

For the first time in a while, being a part of this gang felt like having a family again. A diverse band of outlaws that each welcomed you with open arms.

With your quick hands, you soon learned how to expertly wield a gun. Arthur was the one who taught you, and even gave you your first; a Cattleman revolver that sat holstered on your hip. With your newly found skills to parallel your current ones, you soon became a valued member of the group. Whether it was robbing stagecoaches in the cover of night, or dressing up all fancy and slipping your hands into the coat pockets of unsuspecting coal giants, you were one of the first people to be asked. And you always accepted.

Every single mission was alongside Arthur. Even when on the rare occasion you weren’t chosen for one, Arthur would ask for you to come along anyway.

Admittedly, something about him intrigued you. He was usually quiet, though held an air of authority to him that most of the others respected. You didn’t know too much about him, only prying out bits and pieces when you talked. The times when he was drunk he’d spill a little more, but other than that, a lot of his life was a mystery to you. Even when you’d ask, he’d shrug and mumble something vague. He was a little bolder when it came to confronting people, a show of his strength that was reserved for the direr of occasions.

That still didn’t stop him from sitting next to you at the campfire on most nights, or wishing you a good night when you went to bed. He was always the first one to speak to you in the mornings as well.

Every time, you’d feel your heart flutter a little faster.

You couldn’t help but to feel something for him. He was older, something you appreciated since anyone your age had a one-track mind, especially in the situations you’d found yourself in on more than one occasion.

He was also handsome. The way those blue eyes stared at you, sometimes you feel as if you could melt on the spot.

“Hey, Y/N,” his voice snapped you from your thoughts. “We’re almost there.”

You nodded silently and focused on the road ahead. The forest was thinning out into an expanse of a field ahead. You spotted the stagecoach, though the station still a little too far to see. This was good, meaning you were still early enough to intercept it before the train. Arthur slowed his horse to a trot and you did the same.

“What do you wanna do?” you asked, looking at him.

“Your call this time.” He said, tilting his head toward you.

You blinked in surprise. You’d never called the shots before. “Er, why?” you asked.

He shrugged. “You been with us for a while. I wanna see how you do things. You alright with that?”

Well, this was new. “Okay…” you began, observing the stagecoach. It was fairly small; with two horses and one guy steering. That didn’t account for who was inside, but you’ve handled more with ease. There was also a lockbox on the back, which most likely held the loot. “We’ll make it easy. You distract, I’ll get into that lockbox.”

“Alright,” Arthur said. “We got a plan then.”

You smiled at his approval. Even though you’ve had your fair share of kills, you would prefer to leave without bloodshed if you could help it.

He sped up, galloping into the forest to go wide around, briefly disappearing within the trees. You kept behind, far enough so no one would be alerted of your presence. Within a few minutes, Arthur had effectively stopped the coach. Hiding behind the thicket, you hopped off your horse and carefully snuck forward, taking care not to rustle any bushes.

As you got closer, you heard Arthur speaking to the driver. You kept your eyes forward, careful not to kick any rocks or step on any sticks along the road.

“…don’t mean to bother ya, just need a little bit of direction…” Arthur’s voice sounded. Though you were focused on the box, your ears were trained to listen for any issues. So far it was a normal conversation.

You’d reached the back of the carriage, and you pulled out your lock picking kit. Keeping yourself steady, you began to work at the lock. You heard Arthur trying to prolong the conversation, and you quickened your pace. Within a few short moments, you heard the satisfying click of the lock releasing. You let out a silent breath of relief and flipped the lid up, and was graced with the sight of a few fat stacks of bills.

You grinned and grabbed them all, stuffing them into your satchel.

“Hey!”

You froze, eyes widening as you looked up. One of the passengers had poked his head out, and was glaring at you.

Shit.

You only had time to roll out of the way when shots were fired at you, and you fumbled with your revolver, pulling it out of the holster before throwing yourself behind a nearby boulder for cover. Arthur shouted something, and more gunfire was heard, along with thundering hoofbeats.

You peered over, quickly taking a view of the fight. The driver was dead, though the passengers – four of them – came running out of the coach, guns out. Arthur circled around on his horse, firing at them.

You took your chance, taking a deep breath and aimed. It were as if time slowed down while you hyper-focused on your shots, pulling the trigger flawlessly and effectively nailing each in the head in a split second with crimson splatter. It was a little trick Arthur had taught you, and has proved to come in handy in dire situations.

The others were out of your vision, though swears filled the air along with multiple gunshots. Leaving your cover of the boulder, you hurriedly pinned yourself to the carriage, peering around to the other side. The two men were firing into the woods, though you couldn’t see Arthur.

While they were distracted, you aimed and quickly fired, leaving a hole in the skull of one as he lifelessly flopped forward into the grass. The other turned around in shock, yet had no time to react when another gunshot rang out. The bullet had flown through his eye socket, the surprise still plastered on his face as he joined his comrade on the ground.

Heart pounding, you stepped out into the open, squinting to see Arthur still on his horse, trotting out of the cover of the woods. “Arthur!” you sighed in relief.

“Y/N?” Arthur called out, coming up to your side. You could see concern plain on his face. “You alright?” he hopped off his horse, stepping somewhat close to you, his eyes traveling up and down to look for any damage. He held his hand out as if to place it on your shoulder, but kept those few inches of distance.

“Yeah,” you responded breathlessly, holstering your gun and brushing off the dirt and leaves sticking to your clothes from your brief meeting with nature. “That was close.”

The relief he expressed was visible. He put his hand down. “Yeah it was,” he glanced over at the now five dead bodies littering the path. “So much for the sneaky approach.”

“Well, we got out alive,” you pointed out with a smile. “And without a scratch.”

He nodded in agreement, and gestured to your bag. “How much ya get?”

You pulled the money from your satchel, taking a few moments to count them out. “Three thousand.” You announced.

Arthur’s eyebrows raised in surprise, soon replaced with a triumphant grin. “Glad to see that lead weren’t a dud.”

“Hell yeah,” you agreed, splitting the money three ways. You gave him his share, tucking away the rest: some for you, and some for the camp. “Let’s get back, shall we?” you added and whistled for your horse.

---

“Whoa, that’s a nice cut!”

“Good job guys!”

“Damn, Arthur, Y/N. You really got a good one!”

The praises that befell you two when you returned from camp were endless, the air filled with whoops and cheers. It’d been a bit of a dry spell as of late; robberies gone wrong or false leads. This put a damper on the camp, and this news had brightened everyone’s spirits.

As some of the boys gathered around to congratulate you, you couldn’t help but to notice Arthur had stepped back from the crowd. His head was tilted to hide his eyes underneath his hat, though you noticed a slight frown set on his lips.

You were soon distracted when Karen came up, pressing a bottle of beer into everyone’s hands for a celebration.

It’d been late afternoon when you got back, and it darkened to night as the liquid celebrations ensued. After a while, you were a few beers in and sporting a decent buzz. You chatted with the others, your lips a little looser under the influence of the alcohol.

At some point you’d glanced toward the campfire. Arthur was sitting there, along with a couple of others. All of them were drinking, though the latter were chatting amongst one another whilst Arthur remained quiet, seemingly lost in thought.

What was he thinking about? You, perhaps? You knew he felt something for you, he must have. Why else would he ask you to accompany him for that robbery, alone? But the poor boy is probably too shy to come out with it. Maybe you could give him a push…

You swaggered over, giving an airy greeting to the boys. Glancing down at Arthur, he offered a small smile though said nothing. A thought crossed your mind, and before you could think on it further, you acted on it. Standing in front of him, you bent down and sat directly on his lap.

You felt him freeze underneath you. “Y/N-”

“Hey Morgan, got your good luck charm there?” Bill teased with a laugh.

“Seems more than a good luck charm.” Javier added.

You giggled and wrapped an arm around Arthur’s neck, taking a swig from your drink before turning your head to look at him. Even in the orange glow of the fire, you could see the surprise plain on his face.

You also noticed he didn’t rebut Bill or Javier.

“Should we leave you two alone?” Lenny chimed in.

“Ah, it’s all harmless!” you shot back with a smile. “Arthur don’t mind.” As you said that, you turned your head to look at him again, noting his eyes were bright, intense. His hands hesitantly rested on your hips, and you shifted yourself closer in encouragement.

The others chuckled like schoolgirls, though you didn’t care. Arthur’s still surprised gaze was on you, though gave no intention that he was uncomfortable. In fact, you’re pretty sure he subtly pulled you even closer.

Maybe now he’ll get the message.

“Actually, I’m going back to my tent for a bit.” you announced, untangling yourself from Arthur to stand back up. You could have sworn his hands lingered on your hips before you were up completely. Turning your head and giving him a subtle wink, you sauntered toward your tent at the edge of camp.

---

High Honor

You pushed back the flap of your tent, your heart pounding as you walked in. Beer had taken the edge off, yet you weren’t drunk enough to feel shameless about what had happened. It surely seemed like a good idea at the moment.

You hoped you were right. You sat on the edge of your cot and waited, hoping he understood you. A few minutes had passed and nothing had happened.

You were sure you’d made a fool of yourself, and Arthur will probably never talk to you again, or scold you for even attempting such a bold move. How stupid you were to think he thought of you more than just a fellow gang member. It will certainly be an awkward discussion in the morning with the others.

Your thoughts were soon derailed when the sound of footsteps drawing close to your tent caught your attention. You blinked, seeing a familiar silhouette step up, standing on the other side of the canvas. Could it be?

“Y/N? Can I come in?” Arthur’s voice sounded.

Oh, shit. Was he going to yell at you now? “Go ahead.” You answered, fighting to keep your voice steady.

The flap opened again, and Arthur stepped inside. His gaze was once again hidden by his hat. His posture didn’t indicate anger. In fact, he seemed to be nervous. It reminded you of how he approached you earlier that day.

The silence between you was deafening. You weren’t exactly sure what to say to him, and it appeared that he didn’t either.

You took a deep breath, decidedly initiating the conversation. “Uh, s-sorry about that. I’m kinda tipsy.” You admitted, hoping that he’d accept the behavior from your inebriation.

He slowly looked at you. “No need to be. I, uh, I actually…” his eyes darted downward again, trailing off as if he couldn’t find the words. He seemed more nervous than you at the moment.

You blinked, standing up slowly. “You…”

He gave a soft sigh. “I actually…liked that.” he rubbed the back of his neck.

Eyes widening, you responded with a quick exhale. “What? Really?”

He continued to fidget in place, the anxiety coming off him in waves as he tried to muster up his next words. You waited patiently, although you knew what he was going to say. “Y/N, I…well, I like you. I like you a lot.”

The weight that sat in your stomach lifted so much it felt as if you could fly right then and there. “Really?” you gasped.

He nodded, looking at you fully once again. “I have for a while. Hell, I’ve liked ya since you joined us.”

“And you never said anything?”

He shrugged. “I wanted to earlier, but I got kinda nervous. Wasn’t sure if you liked me back. Wouldn’t blame ya if you didn’t.”

You frowned at his response. “Why would you say that?”

“Well, I ain’t the prettiest to look at. I ain’t the youngest either. Wouldn’t think you’d waste your time with someone like me, when you could be with anyone else.”

Your stomach churned at his words. You never knew he had such a low opinion about himself. You reached out and entwined your fingers with his. “Well, Arthur Morgan. Listen to me when I say, I like you too.”

He glanced down at your hands. His lips parted as if to say something, yet no words were formed. It took him a good minute for he asked, “Why?”

You stepped closer to him, closing the space between you two. Releasing his hands, one of yours went to gently cup his cheek. His stubble was rough against the soft skin your palm. “Because you respect me. You see me for a person and not just a thief or some girl with a pretty face. And you’re a lot more mature than any guy my age.”

He chuckled at that last bit. “‘Spose I got that goin’ for me.”

“And you’re damn good looking too,” you added, reaching up to take his hat off, revealing his face in full. “Don’t know why you’d think differently.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but you cut him off with a kiss. He once again stiffened in surprise, but soon eased into your touch. His arms slowly wrapped around your waist, holding you close as your lips moved quietly against his.

A long moment passed before he pulled back for air. His gaze was soft and loving, all for you. A rush of heat spread through your cheeks. The two of you were holding back feelings for far too long.

You kissed again, exhibiting much more passion now. His grip on your waist tightened as he pulled you closer to him. The heat of his body radiated against yours, and you pressed even closer. The space closed between you elicited a soft groan from him, a sweet melody that sent a fire elsewhere within your body.

A presence made itself known against your thigh. Before you could make sense of it, Arthur stepped back, releasing you and turning himself away in embarrassment. “Sorry…” he murmured. “I should get goin’…”

“No.” You whispered, reaching out and grabbed his hand again. “Stay, it’s okay.”

He blinked in confusion. “You sure?”

You nodded silently, tugging him back toward you. “If that’s how you feel about me, then act on it.” In the dimness of your tent, you could see the bulge that rested behind his jeans. How far could this go? Your free hand twitched forward, slowly, your eyes never leaving his. He didn’t stop you, or move away. Laying gently along his hardness, you palmed him slowly. You were rewarded with a soft groan, the uneasiness melting from his being.

“I ain’t been with a woman in a long time,” he shyly admitted to you, his hips slightly pitching forward vainly searching for more friction. “I may not be what you expect.”

“You’re perfect either way,” you assured him, running your hands up his torso to rest on his chest. He made a small noise of disbelief, and you gently shushed him. “Let me prove it.”

He was silent this time, watching you as you nimbly began to unbutton his shirt. One by one, revealing the expanse of his pecs. Once completely undone, you pushed the fabric aside to reveal more. Your hands began to explore him, admiring hard muscles underneath scarred skin. Every ridge and plane didn’t go untouched. Your fingertips roved every part of him before finally resting at his waist, hovering above his pants.

Reaching up, you whispered in his ear to lay down. Without questioning, he did so, his eyes never leaving you. He looked so beautiful and vulnerable in this position. Carefully, you straddled him, leaning over to give him a gentle kiss. “You’re beautiful,” Your murmured against his lips, moving down to kiss every scar you’d found before. “Every part of you.”

“Darlin’…” he sighed, rubbing his fingers through your hair. You smiled at this, knowing your words were beginning to take effect.

Kissing below his navel, you made quick work of his belt and buttons. Pushing aside the restraints, his length was revealed to you, standing straight and waiting. He certainly had a bit of girth to him, and your mouth watered at the thought of having it inside you.

You wrapped your hand gingerly around him, hearing another soft sigh passing his lips. You kneeled in between his legs, pumping your hand once. His eyes fluttered.

“Arthur,” you said gently. “Look at me.”

He focused onto you, his hands taking place on your waist.

“What a beautiful sight, you are,” you murmured, pumping your hand at a slow and steady rhythm. “Don’t you think?”

“…Y-yes.” he stuttered hesitantly, eliciting a low groan.

“And you’re perfect the way you are, right?”

“Right…” he moaned, keeping his eyes on you.

“Good boy.” you purred, leaning down to sweetly kiss him. He deepened it, his tongue exploring your mouth heatedly as your hand sped up. You could feel his fingers playing with the fabric of your pants, tugging your shirt free from them. His rough hands found their way underneath, though let a muffled hiss of annoyance to find your chemise was blocking him.

You giggled, sitting up to shrug your shirt off. Your chemise was soon to follow, exposing your upper half to him. He wasted no time in reaching for you.

“You feel so soft, so nice…” he murmured, one hand sliding up your midline, stopping between your breasts as the other gripped one, kneading it within his palm. The sensation felt great, sending a flash of fire straight down to your core.

“You feel nice too,” you added, your hand returning to his length to solidify your statement. “Can’t wait you have you inside me…” the more you played with him, the greater the heat made its presence, pooling as moisture in your undergarments.

He hissed out a swear. “Shit, Y/N. I want you…”

Oh how you wanted him too. But you wanted to prolong this moment, make it memorable between the two of you. Most importantly, you wanted Arthur to feel good about himself. “Touch me, Arthur,” you breathed. “Prove me how good of a man you are.”

He sat up slowly, never breaking his held gaze. He continued to massage your breasts as his other hand slinked down, unbuttoning your pants.

His calloused fingers parted your lower lips, finding his target with ease. A moan escaped your mouth as he danced slow circles upon your bundle of nerves. Your hands rested on his shoulders, partially for balance, almost melting from his touch.

You praised him, your breathless compliments were like music to his ears. You could see that smile growing, his touch becoming more fervent the more you spoke. Pleasure coursed through your veins, and your back arched, pressing your breasts to his chest. A noise of appreciation escaped his throat, and he leaned down to kiss your soft flesh. He nibbled lightly along the crook of your neck, across your collarbone, and along your nipples. A gasp uttered from you, shivering as his lips and teeth toyed with the sensitive nubs.

Peak on the rise, you ran your fingers through Arthur’s hair. “You’re so good, Arthur...” you purred to him. “I’m close. Keep going.”

He peeked up at you, and slipped a finger in. Feverishly working your inner walls, he brought into a smooth, deep kiss. Arms around his neck, you gladly accepted it, hot breaths mixing and your moans muffled. Ecstasy pulsed like fire in your veins, filling you up to your very center. It was coming, and quick. You broke the kiss, reaching your orgasm as you sang out a moan. Your hips shuddered, grinding languidly against his palm as you rode out the last waves of it.

Your heart raced and your face flushed, you gazed lustfully at Arthur. He pulled his hand out, marveling how soaked his fingers had become.

“Is that to your likin’, sweetheart?” He asked, giving you a look of expectant curiosity while his voice radiated need for approval.

“Mmm, I think so,” you gave a soft giggle, idly twirling a lock of his hair around your finger. “No man has made me come to my orgasm the way you just did.”

You swore you’d never seen a man blush so hard.

“And I want you to do it again…” you whispered, getting up to pull his pants off the rest of the way, exposing him completely to you. Your own pants were to follow, though taking your time to shimmy them down your hips. Arthur watched, eyes wide, reflecting a hunger that lurked beneath the surface. Bringing yourself to straddle his hips, you hovered yourself over him. “By taking me completely.”

His lips parted slightly, though his words died in his throat when you’d rubbed your folds across the pinkened head, coating him with your slick. His hands found their way to your hips again, though from the shudder that rippled through his chest, he staved off the urge to force you onto him. “Fuck…” was all he said in a strained voice.

Slowly at first, you began the descent that allowed him to stretch your inner walls. Inch by inch, filling your core, biting your lip and wincing a little as you adjusted to his size. He watched you in awe, taking him whole as you seated yourself completely on his lap.

And then, you started to move.

The slight pain from before had disappeared completely, the friction absolutely amazing. You gripped on his shoulders, using the added leverage to roll your hips on him. A slow place, though lovely all the same. His grip tightened, not enough to hurt. He let out a small groan, leaning forward to rest his forehead on your shoulder. Another swear escaped his lips.

“Y/N…Jesus, you feel…so amazin’.” He rumbled, kissing your shoulder.

You could only moan in response, increasing your movement against him. He began to lightly thrust into you, keeping in sync with your motions. His deep, guttural moans vibrated pleasantly. His teeth ravaged your skin again, knowing you’ll have marks later on.

His hands moved to your back, bringing you even closer to him. Pressed together, he drove himself further upward into you, dragging along your sweet spot. You trembled in his arms, tilting your head up to let out a moan, keeping your voice steady to not alert the entire camp of your pleasure.

“You sound beautiful, sweetheart.” Arthur marveled, tilting his own head up to kiss along your neck. His stubble tickled you pleasantly, all the while he continued to subtly push himself toward your pleasure.

“So do you,” you mewled. “You’re d-doing marvelous.” Caressing his face, you kissed his forehead, his cheeks, and finally on his lips. Fingers slinked through his sandy hair, with every loving and gentle touch he groaned in appreciation.

Briefly breaking his lips away, his arms wrapped around you. Strong and warm, he lifted you off his lap and laid you on your cot. The feeling of emptiness was short, him sliding back in with one smooth motion. His eyes never left yours as he placed his hands on either side of you.

He thrust slowly, deeply, kissing you again to staunch your whine. You lifted your legs and wrapped them around his waist, allowing an even deeper angle for him.

He moved faster, harder, rocking your body to the very center. Your second was on the rise, advancing too quickly for you to even fully comprehend. Your voice heightened to alert him, your nails dragging along his solid back.

Arthur pulled back a few inches, giving you a stare so intense that it almost made you blush. “You close?” and when you nodded, he quickened his pace.

The explosion radiated from your core, ascending into you moaning out his name. As the fire ebbed from your belly, your shaking legs fell limp as his hips started to shudder.

“Shit, I’m close too.” He groaned, his thrusts becoming faster and shallower with abandon. You could only cling to him as he chased his own peak. In seconds he pulled out of you, rubbing himself between your folds before releasing his spend across your belly with a guttural moan.

With both of you panting, Arthur met your eyes once again. His face was flushed, though his eyes were bright and soft. It was quiet, no words were exchanged for that first moment of post-copulation bliss.

You spoke first after catching your breath. “That felt amazing, Arthur.”

He smiled shyly, leaning down to plant a sweet, gentle kiss on your lips. “It did.” He straightened up, taking in the sight of your sweaty, fatigued body with a look of marvel. He’d reached for his bandana and wiped away the mess he’d left on your stomach. This faintly surprised you at how much of a gentleman he was. His gaze swept over your cot. “Uh, may I?” he asked, gesturing to the space next to you.

You smiled up at him, scooting over to create more room. “You may.”

He took the space next to you, though there wasn’t much room on your cot. He pulled your blanket on top of the two of you before he wrapped his arms around your torso.

You pressed yourself closer to him, snuggling into the crook of his body. He felt warm and slightly slick with sweat, though you didn’t mind.

A wide yawn escaped Arthur’s mouth. “Can’t believe we just did that…” he mumbled, nuzzling the back of your neck.

You turned your head to look at him. “Why?”

“Bein’ able to lay with someone as amazin’ as you, I only dreamed of it,” he explained, the lull in his voice accompanied his drowsiness. “Didn’t think you’d have feelings for me as well.”

Arthur,” you cooed, laying a tender hand upon his cheek. “I think I just proved to you how you make me feel. That ain’t gonna change.”

He hummed in response, turning his head to kiss your palm. “I’d hope not. Cause after this, I’d like to call you mine. If that’s okay.”

You smiled widely at him, turning to kiss him once again. “Of course it’s okay.”

---

Low Honor

Your heart leapt to your throat the moment you’d stepped into your tent. Had you really just done that? It was a bold move, even by your standards. Despite the shame that loomed, an active giddiness took a hold of you.

You paced in your tent, unable to calm yourself down. Blood thundered in your ears, every second felt like an eternity. Arthur had to have gotten the message at that point. If he didn’t take your hint, then you couldn’t imagine the endless testing you’d get for weeks from the boys afterward. Even worse, you were afraid Arthur may never even speak to you again.

Despite the pounding of your heart, you heard footsteps stalking up to your tent.

The flap fell open, revealing Arthur as he slid inside. Your eyes widened, and he stopped before you, his hands gripping his belt in a domineering way that could have made you weak at the knees.

“You mind tellin’ me what the hell did that was about, Y/N?” He asked in a low voice.

Was he angry? Your mind flipped back and forth between rational thought and a cheeky response. The alcohol had tossed better intuition out the window. “Your lap looked cold, thought I’d warm it up.” You responded simply, folding your arms.

He raised an eyebrow at you. “That so? Why would you think that?”

“I think you know, Arthur.”

His eyes caught yours, a firm gaze that you held evenly. He then swept his gaze over you, his tongue darting out between his lips as if looking at a delicious meal. “Do I? Then tell me.” He challenged.

God, that voice. “I think you like me.” you said simply.

He stepped closer to you, stopping within inches. “S’that whatcha think, huh?”

You nodded silently, forcing yourself to keep still. His entire being instilled a fear in you while simultaneously igniting a thrill that sent fire through your veins.

The hunger in his eyes intensified. “Can’t say you’re wrong,” he chuckled slightly. He reached towards your face, tucking a stray lock behind your ear before running his fingers through your hair. You were surprised by this gentle action, though you didn’t object it. “You have no idea what the hell you do to me, woman.” He growled in an almost animalistic way.

You didn’t respond, you couldn’t, as he gripped the back of your head to pull you in for a kiss.

You stiffened at first, unsure how to take this. His other hand held you in place by your jaw, although not tight enough hurt. You relaxed after a moment, melting to him as his tongue prodded its way past your lips. You tasted the liquor he’d been drinking, as well as a faint tang of tobacco.

Moving his hand from your head, he placed it on the small of your back. “Been wantin’ ya for a while,” he said in between kisses. “Since that day you tried to rob Dutch.”

You felt your face flush in surprise. “Really?” you whispered against his mouth.

“Wanted to take ya then and there.” He growled to you, pressing his hips against yours. The warm line beneath his jeans made itself known against your mound.

You gave a slight gasp, not expecting to feel that. You however stood in your place. “Wh-why didn’t you?” you stammered, keeping your eyes on his face.

“Decided to step back n’ watch,” he continued. “See how ya fit in with the gang.” He moved his hands to hold your hips, locking you against his body. “But seein others try to be sweet on ya, made me jealous. Surprised ya didn’t go for anyone else.”

“No one really stuck out to me, not like you.” you admitted.

A growl emitted from his chest, no doubt pleased with your words. “Wanted to say somethin’ earlier at the robbery, but it didn’t feel like the right time. Couldn’t help but to be jealous again, when everyone was surroundin’ you. I wanted to pull you out n’ take you to my tent.”

Your face grew hot again. “Arthur-”

He cut you off with another kiss, even rougher than the first. He pressed his weight to you, making you back up until the back of your legs hit your cot. “But now I got you here,” He whispered. “Been waitin’ a long time for this.”

Leaning onto you, his weight forcing you to sit and lie back. His mouth attached to your neck, sucking and nipping your skin. You shuddered from the sensation, letting out a small moan. He reached for your shirt, nimbly unbuttoning it before peeling it off, then pushing the fabric of your chemise aside to expose your breasts. He wasted no time in tweaking your nipples, rolling them in between his fingers. You bit your lip, shuddering underneath him.

“God…” you mewled, feeling a warmth pool between your legs.

“That feel good, darlin’?” he asked, his mouth resting on your pulse point.

“Y-yes,” You answered with a wavering voice. “Please, more.”

He chuckled, gripping one breast to caress it with his tongue. He swirled around your nipple, sucked on it, stimulating you in ways you’d never dreamed of. His other hand slinked down the front of your body, making quick work of sliding into your pants.

“Wet already?” his fingers found your center immediately.

You whined in response, shuddering as he toyed with you. Mere minutes had passed by before he slipped a finger in, and then another, slightly stretching you out as he vainly sought your climax. Your hands clawed at his shoulder, his back, anything to hang on to, your body feeling almost limp to his touch. “Arthur!” you gasped, unable to form any other words.

“Go on, princess. Let me feel it.”

Your peak hit quick, expelling a rush of liquid into the palm of his hand. You cried out weakly, your entire body trembling from the sudden onset of your orgasm.

“Good girl,” he reached up to pet your head before standing up straight and pulling you back to your feet. He pressed on your shoulders, making you kneel on the ground. You peered up at him curiously, wondering what was next. Appreciating him from this angle gave you a rush.

He began to unbuckle his belt, and then his pants. Pulling his hard cock from its restraints, he prodded your lips with the tip. “Go on.”

Oh. You’d only heard of this maneuver, though had never seen it in action or attempted it yourself. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to try. You opened your mouth slightly, easing the tip slowly inside. Your tongue swirled around it carefully, turning your eyes upward for a reaction.

He let out a soft moan, his hand returning to your head. You took a little more of him in your mouth, inch by inch until you were almost at his root. He was wide, taking up more room than you’d thought. His hips twitched slightly, a small movement to indicate for you to continue.

And you did, slowly bobbing your head along his length.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Arthur rumbled, petting your head once again. “Make that pretty lil’ mouth work.”

You hummed around him, adding vibration against his sensitive shaft. His hand added some pressure to the back of your head, prompting you to go faster. His groans sent a thrill through you, pooling once again in your already soaked undergarments. Daring to go further, you reached up and fondled his balls.

He uttered a small gasp, his hips bucking forward slightly. “Darlin’,” he hissed. “You gonna make me cum before I’m ready.”

You giggled lowly, giving him one more good rub before focusing on his length once again. He bucked further, and you felt him hit the back of your throat. You fought the urge to gag around him, closing your eyes and allowing him to fuck your throat.

“Look at you, takin’ me so well,” Arthur cooed, reaching down to caress your cheek. “You’re so pretty from this angle.”

You made a noise of appreciation, surprisingly enjoying the praise. You held yourself still, letting him have his way for a moment, thrusting quickly into your mouth over and over again. It lasted for longer than you’d anticipated, before he pulled himself out completely, his breathing slightly uneven.

He leaned down to kiss you tenderly, wet and sloppy from your spit. Pulling back to give you a smirk, “Can’t get carried away,” he murmured. “But your mouth is somethin’ else.”

“Glad I can please, then.” You said sweetly.

His smirk widened, and stood up straight once again. “I ain’t done yet though. Get on the cot.” He commanded. You did so without question, sitting on the edge. He grabbed the waistline of your pants, sliding them off along with your underwear, leaving you bare for him. “On your back.”

You lay down, peering at him expectantly. He stood in between your legs, hooking his arms around your thighs. Stepping closer, he prodded your entrance with his cock. Sliding it through your folds a few times, covering himself with your moisture and sending a shiver up your spine.

With one thrust, he sheathed himself smoothly and quickly, giving you no time to adjust to his size. You gave a whimper of pain. “A-ah, fuck!”

“Take it, sweetheart,” Arthur growled in encouragement. He released one of your legs to dip to your clit, rubbing it in slow circles. “You’ll like the pain.” He began to thrust.

You bit your lip, tensing from the pain-pleasure that gripped hold of your body. The more he moved within you, the better it began to feel. You breathed slowly, letting your muscles relax as sweet ecstasy began to overtake you.

“That’s it, darlin’,” he drawled, increasing his ministrations upon your sensitive nub while his thrusts grew faster and harder. “Beautiful, takin’ my cock like that.”

You moaned loudly in response, your fingers slipping along your cot, failing to find purchase for anything to hold onto. He fucked you hard and fast, the glorious friction allowing the heat to build up quick in your core.

The sounds of his hips slapping against yours, and your wanton whining filled the tent. He was relentless with you; his fingers dancing against your bundle of nerves without a break. You get your second peak building quickly, your voice raising an octave in warning.

“Go ‘head.” He granted, his own voice breathless, somehow rubbing you even faster than before.

The coil sprung deep within you, emitting a moan that soon turned into a squeal, realizing Arthur hadn’t removed his hand. You squirmed in his iron grip, trying to get away from his touch. He held you even tighter at that.

“Cum again,” he ordered. “I love the way you look when you do.”

You cried from the overstimulation, failing to escape his fingers. He continued regardless of your efforts. “Arthur, p-please!” You begged, absolutely writhing now. Though at this point, you weren’t sure if you were begging for him to stop or continue.

He pounded harder within you, managing to hit that spot that made your eyes nearly roll to the back of your head. The buildup happened fast, wrenching out another one explosively cascading within you, a mewl escaping your mouth.

He grinned down at you, drowning your sounds of pleasure with a deep kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, but he pulled away. You whined in protest, wanting the closeness.

He chuckled, pulling out to flip you onto your hands and knees. Finding your entrance again, he didn’t hesitate to pound you from behind with much more intensity than before.

Your back arched, gasping at the new angle. It felt great, your already tired muscles trembling beneath him. You called out his name rather loudly, only to have him shove his bandana in your mouth. He leaned over, his thick torso pressing down on you.

“Ain’t nobody need to know what a filthy whore you are, ‘cept me,” He growled in your ear, his tone like fire in your veins. “Ain’t that right, princess?”

You made a muffled moan, unable to do anything else as he mercilessly fucked you, pounding himself in such a feral way. “I’m close,” he huffed to you. “I’m gonna…fill you up.”

You didn’t even have a moment to comprehend his words. His hands gripped your hips hard enough to leave bruises.

With one last powerful thrust, he pressed his hips to yours, eliciting a low groan as he released his spend deep within you. He rolled himself against you shallowly, milking himself of every drop before he pulled out, slowly, feeling you shudder as he did so.

Without the support of him, you collapsed onto your cot, removing the bandana from your mouth. You felt yourself shaking, sweat covering nearly every surface of your body. As tired and used as you felt, a sense of euphoria began to trickle through your veins. You rolled onto your back, silently watching as Arthur cleaned himself off before tucking himself back into his jeans. Despite the flushed look on his face, one couldn’t tell what he’d just done.

He took a deep breath and met your gaze. A smile of satisfaction crossed his face, reaching out to run his hand up your midline to caress your cheek. “Beautiful, princess. You did so well for me.”

Heat crept into your face, shyly averting his gaze. How could this man be so romantic after fucking you like that?

“Ah ah, look at me, darlin’,” he softly chided, removing his hand to place both on your hips again, gentle this time, prompting you to stand. You did so silently, letting him wrap his arms around you. As you leaned willingly into his embrace, your body trembling from head to toe, he pressed a kiss to your forehead and whispered, “You’re mine now.”

[bellalikeskitties]

mixed ☾

pairing: jung jaehyun x reader x seo johnny

being a rare half-turned and half-true born vampire with dangerous men at the tip of your fingers proves to be difficult

word count: 2.2k+

genre: vampire au, doctor au (just a dash)

warning/s: blood, injuries, kidnapping, suggestive themes

It wasn’t even late at night yet, but here you were. Tall men cornered you in a dark alleyway after a small chase away from the city. “You’ve got nowhere to run, lady!”. One of them says, and he takes something out of his pocket. Seeing the silver glint, you groan. “Okay. Let’s not be hasty". They laugh as your back hits a wall. 

“Give us everything you have, and we won’t hurt you". Exhaling, you take out your wallet and phone, placing it on the ground before raising your hands up. “Will you let me go now? I don’t want any-”. He quickly presses the knife into you, watching the light disappear from your eyes. “Can’t sweetie. You’ve seen our faces so letting you run isn’t an option”. You sink to the floor as he pulls it out.

Chuckling, he wipes his weapon off and bends to pick up your items. “You should have just let me leave, man". They freeze. You lift your body, grimacing at the pool of blood around you made. “What? Don’t act like you’ve never seen a dead person talking before". He gasps in horror as he stares into your red glowing eyes. 

You smile and flash them your fangs. “V-vampire! A vampire!“. He stutters and crawls back. The rest of his friends flee, leaving just you and him. You take your belongings and taunt him, “Boo”. He shrieks and blacks out. You laugh but quickly wince, the wound in your stomach proving to be a problem. Groaning a bit, you leave the scene and head home.

In this world, vampires existed, but they weren’t the sparkling, garlic-hating, can’t-see-reflection kind. They were the blood-thirsty, undead, God-fearing kind. They were divided into two halves. The Divine and Cursed, or in easier terms, the trueborn and turned. You were a rare kind. Made from a true-born mother and turned father. 

You were a myth, the impossible. The blood of the divine was not compatible with those of the cursed, any child conceived from a turned would die. That’s why most male trueborns rarely select turned females as their mates, wanting to keep their bloodline sacred. Your mother was one of the elite; powerful and well respected within the Divines.

She fell in love with a male human. Turned him into her kind and did the unthinkable. She was pregnant with you. They were beyond elated, but their happiness was short-lived, just like your mother’s life. As soon as you were born, her own divinity passed to you. It killed her and drove your father insane. 

Unfortunately, the turned were called the cursed only because they were. As their bodies accepted partial divinity, they were burdened to love and worship the vampire that made them so. Your father, out of grief, killed himself. Leaving you in this sinister world alone.

You push your body into the tub, grimacing when the warm water turns red. You didn’t expect to be mugged, even more, because they were human. Most of your kind avoided you, they hated your rare case. Scoffing, you remember the disgust and fear your trueborn relatives had when they first saw you. Only your aunt liked you, she raised you and helped you get on your feet. Telling you weird stories about your sort. 

One day she told you about why they disliked you. You had the power to rule over all the vampires. You were the most perfect kind; the most loved and blessed by God. You could walk under the sun, but you had no heartbeat. You could eat human food and human blood too. But most importantly, you had the authority to make every vampire worship you.

“(y/n)! You’re hurt!”. Just like this one. Jaehyun was a trueborn vampire from a noble family who had been alive for centuries. Their family was one of the richest, dealing with major businesses all over the world. He met you while you worked at the hospital, immediately going on his knees and saying you were the love of his life. “It’s not that bad, Jae. Just a few stitches and I’ll be good to go”. With a small pout, he crouched and moved closer to the tub. 

“It doesn’t matter you’re still hurt”. Another man says, leaning into the door frame. Johnny was also trueborn, but his folks were one of the more terrifying ones. They dealt with shady stuff and attacked humans for no reason or for fun. While Jaehyun was ‘courting’ you, he found you. Smelling your scent from a distance, he approached you and quickly became attached. After a few months, they were both endurable. They visited often and would do anything you asked them to do.

You sighed, watching the two fuss over you. “Johnny could you pass me the kit?“. He nods, reaching over the cabinet to pass you a container. As you pretended to be human, you landed yourself a decent education and even a well-paid job. Working as a doctor had its downsides, you were constantly tired and overworked. But you had access to an excessive amount of blood for your monthly cravings.

At the hospital, you were the kind and talented senior, always looking out for everyone while still being competent to save tons of patients. Among your race, you were the samaritan, handing out ‘food’ and help to the vampires who had no power or weren’t able to suppress their hunger and harmed humans. Slowly, you had a group of individuals under your protection. Their lives changing, because of your kindness.

Wincing, you poke the needle through your skin again. You finally finished after a few knots here and there. Sighing, you press your head on the mirror. A hand brushes on your shoulder. “You okay?“. You watch your reflection in the mirror. You looked paler than usual. Johnny lifts you and walks to your bed. Clutching onto his shoulder, you relax, thankful they were there to help you. “Get some sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning“.

One of them tucks you in and the other brushes the hair from your face. You close your eyes, feeling the exhaustion of taking a knife directly. The men continue to talk. The last thing you hear was something about ‘fucking someone up’. The next morning you’re up and ready. The boys asked up to stay home and rest for the day. You argued, saying your work would definitely make you better.

You walked through the hallways, your coworkers greeting you. Fortunately, your day went by with no complications. A few ‘people’ you’ve helped before dropped by and gave you flowers, saying they got news of your attack last night. You remember the two, they said they would stop by and check up on you during your shift. Your visitors left after you thanked them, but now your office was filled with different plants. That’s why you were walking, looking for places where they needed some help. Fortunately, the ER paged for you.

It wasn’t that far, but you still had to walk there. It was fairly short, but due to the injury you had, it took longer than expected. A longer and a more unexpected turn. While you rounded the corner, you had accidentally bumped into someone. Although you didn’t mind and made your way, that person didn’t. He forcefully took your arm and hauled you to him. “Found you“. He whispered. He had bloodshot eyes, chapped lips, and deep bags. He scared you.

“Oh, my God! I’ve been looking for you everywhere!“. You knew exactly what he was, a crazed trueborn who wanted the ‘ruler’ to reign over them. You’ve met one in the past and successfully escaped from them, but his grip on you was unrelenting. “Let go“. You pushed away from him, terrified. He grinned, jabbing his hand into your wound. You gasp and fall back. 

“You can’t leave. You can’t leave me, us! You’re the only hope for us!“. He snaked his bloody hand around you, dragging you away. Looking around, you searched for someone to help. You could’ve stopped him, but you were practically human at that point. You hadn’t fed in weeks and your body was too busy healing you.

Heavy breaths left your lips. You were essentially dead, but everything still hurt. Somehow, you had grabbed his shoulder to stop him and he turned to you. “Why can’t you understand?“. He yelled. “You are our only salvation! Only you can deliver us from evil, you can be one with God!“. 

Tears slipped through your eyes. You were drained, tired of your life constantly at risk. He was talking about you being a God and that made you sick. “Please, just let go“. You choked and screamed, but he was determined to take you with him.

“What do we have here?“. A familiar voice echoed in your ears. You whipped your head back and there they were. The man turned to them. “Nothing. Turn away if you don’t want to get hurt“. You sobbed, the relief washing over you. “I could say the same to you“. Johnny’s eyes flashed and in a second his hand was on the man’s neck. Jaehyun rushed to your side, holding you as you cried. 

You buried your head into his chest, not wanting to listen to whatever Johnny was doing. “What took you so long? I was waiting for you“. The younger man cradled you. “We were dealing the man from last night, princess. I’m so sorry we were late“. He was stroking your back gently like you might break if he did anything else.

You finally felt your nerves ease, sniffling a bit before looking at Jaehyun. “Can you tell Johnny to stop? He doesn’t need to go that far“. He looked reluctant but signaled to the other male. You hear something drop and footsteps moving to you. “(y/n), how long has it been since you fed?“. You jolt and push yourself up. A bloodied mess in front of you. You grimaced, patting your side. 

“(y/n), I asked you a question. I expect an answer“. Johnny was staring at you, eyes glowing. They held no evil intentions towards you, you knew that, but he still frightened you. Licking your lips, you murmur. “2 months“.

They both sighed. Knowing you fasted again. It’s not like you hated drinking, it just seemed unethical and weird. Johnny lifted your blouse, examining your wound. “If you had just fed, this-“, he poked your wound teasingly, “would be gone by now”. You pushed him away, and the younger growled, “Don’t give her more pain“. 

Rolling his eyes, Johnny used his nail to make a slight cut on his wrist. His blood flowed freely and your senses spiked. Hunger resonated in you, the tips of your fingers tingled at the scent. It wasn’t like you couldn’t feed on each other’s blood. Actually, it was something only mates do. The two men frequently feed you with their own blood. It should’ve marked you as theirs, but because of your divinity, it never did.

“Stop, (y/n). Don’t fight it“. Jaehyun held you in place, his hands firm on you. The other placed his wrist gently on your lips, letting you suckle on his skin. You sighed, the deathly thirst in you burning down. You felt lighter, and the stab didn’t bother you anymore. As you sighed and relaxed, the other men watched with a sinful gaze. Filling their minds up with your vulnerable state. To male vampires, feeding each other was as similar to having sex, but you didn’t know that.

You continued to lap and suck at his skin, whining when he removed his arm. “Ah, Johnny“. He clenched his jaw and watched you pout. Only then did you realize the heavy breaths Jaehyun was making and the tight grasp he had on you. You feel your face flush when you notice the tightness in their pants. “Princess, don’t say my name like that in public, unless?“. You choked, stepping away from them. “W-what? I-I mean, we should, um, clean this up“. They both chuckled. Your stuttering made their hearts melt.

You were glad none of the patients walked by. If they had, Johnny would have killed them on the spot. Jaehyun found out who your attacker was. A deranged turned vampire whose trueborn died. He was looking for something to ease the pain, and sadly, it was you. 

“I’m fine, auntie. It wasn’t serious at all“. You lied through your teeth, pressing the phone into your ear as you leaned into your couch. They finally persuaded you to stay home this time, focusing on healing instead of work. “Don’t lie, I heard from one of my friends that the Jung and Seo family helped you“. You could feel her fuss through her voice.

You hummed. You weren’t sure what to do with them, but they didn’t mind. They were content with you by their side. “With them with you, you could just really be the ‘supreme ruler’!“. You laughed with her. When she said that, you felt like you could do it. But you weren’t influential, nor did you have the strength to do it, for now. “Yeah, leading the entire race doesn’t sound too bad, sounds fun actually“.

You had said it with no intentions. You just went with the flow, chatting with your favorite relative. But to the two trueborns who were secretly eavesdropping, it was a mission. Their smiles were wide, blood rushing, they were excited. Excited to see you rule over them.

~

yay vampire au! how was it? im not used to writing about graphic scenes yet so

anw, hope u guys liked it

[starker-stories]

The Dick Pic

Also on AO3 By @thestarkerisobvious​ and @starker-stories​ A little one-shot by us that’s not part of anything else. 

Tags: Misunderstandings, Dick Pics, College Student Peter Parker, Top Tony Stark, Bottom Peter Parker, Anal Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Awkward Conversations

Rating: E, Words: 10,137

Summary: Was that really your first dick pic? I’m sorry I never thought… you were the first person to even walk AROUND with a phone in your pocket so I just didn’t think. I’m sorry. All you had to do was say you didn’t want that. Did you open it in a meeting or something?

Their trip to Paris was memorable for so many reasons. Not just because Tony set out to spoil Peter rotten with fine wine, good food, and crowded sightseeing spots closed down just for them, but because of what they did in the hotel bedroom that night.

Peter opened up to Tony that night. Told him things he hadn’t told anyone, had no plans to tell anyone. Tony had a way of surprising Peter, a way of getting Peter to surprise himself. It wasn’t just the expensive gifts, the exclusive restaurants, or the limo rides everywhere. That was Tony’s life, and he was inviting Peter to be a part of it. Peter freely accepted that invitation.

No, it was something more. Tony had invited Peter into his bed, and had invited him there to do more than just fuck. But what Tony had invited him there to do, Peter wasn’t completely sure was possible.

Tony looked over at Peter, the glow of the City of Lights behind him. Peter was already moving into position. A very comfortable position, but already a very familiar position — the only one they had made love in the few times they had — almost by habit.

The last thing that Tony wanted to be in Peter’s life was a habit.

“Pete,” he began, stroking the outside of his arm. “I brought you here because it’s the most romantic city in the world. Because it’s what I think of when I look at you. I think of how much I’m in love with you, and how much I want to make you happy.”

Tony urged them both into a different position, closer, more conversational, facing each other, unable to look away. “What do you want,” he asked.

“I don’t… what?” Peter grinned, shy and a little amused. What did he want? He was in Paris, France. He was in a luxury hotel. He had Tony Stark, the Tony Stark, saying ‘I love you’. What else could any human being want?

“Tony,” he said, stroking the man’s face. It seemed so obvious. Like in class, when the teacher asked a question so easy it was too embarrassing to answer. But, just like in class, the silence was even more embarrassing. So Peter answered. “I want you.”

Tony smiled softly. “And I want you, baby.” He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to Peter’s lips. “But how do you want me?”

“Forever,” Peter said without thinking, then caught his breath a little when he realized what he had just said. He kissed Tony quickly, in hopes to cover.

It wasn’t a good cover.

“Sorry, I just meant…”

Tony interrupted Peter's objection with a kiss of his own. Deep, lasting, and relieved.

“Only that long?” Tony said. “It’s a decent start, I suppose. I don’t know if I can stop after only forever, though.”

He kissed Peter again in his own attempt at cover. He punctuated his words with kisses. “But what. Do you want. Tonight. Here. In bed. With me. Sexually,” he said when the kisses broke.

“Oh, I mean… I mean… well…” Peter blushed and ducked his head and grinned and wondered if kissing the man would be enough to get out of the question.

“‘Well’? I don’t know what that means, baby. I want you to tell me.”

“Tony I don’t… I’m not really… okay you’re going to make me talk about this, aren’t you? I’m not really much of a… talker…”

Tony knew that during the few times they’d been together, Peter struggled to say anything at all before, during, or even after. Tony never pressed the issue. He hadn’t known if they were just an itch to scratch for each other. If so, all that mattered was that they were both physically satiated.

But he’d realized that Peter wasn’t an itch for him. Even before his ‘forever’, he’d figured out that he wasn’t an itch for Peter either. That meant if this was going to last anywhere past a year, much less ‘forever’, Peter needed to be able to express his desires. So he pressed the issue. Relentlessly. Refusing to make love to the boy until he’d gotten at least something he desired out of him.

It was a long night, but it was a night Peter would never forget. He admitted to things he never thought he would admit to anyone that night. That night Peter dared himself to be honest, to be vulnerable. Dared himself, and succeeded.

He asked for things too. Asked for several different things, in the end. And everything he asked for, he received.

 ~~~~~

 It was a beautiful morning. Peter had actually gotten a full night’s sleep. He was sleeping in his dorm room, of course, because Tony was away on business and wouldn’t be back for a few days.

He had awoken from a lovely dream. About Tony, of course. In the dream Tony was reminding him to be bold, to ask for things that he wanted. He couldn’t have what he wanted that moment, of course… but could he?

Why not? Tony had encouraged him to be bold.

So he boldly took his phone out.

Thinking of you.

He thought of several other things he could add to go along with the picture (‘Would you like to taste?’ or ‘Mostly about your mouth’) but in the end he chickened out of every one. In the end, he just hit send. That was enough bold for one day.

 ~~~~~

 Tony looked at the picture on his phone.

Well, he had told Peter that he could ask for anything. He wanted to hear every one of Peter’s sexual desires. He didn’t know why he expected that would never be one of them. Things weren’t as neatly defined in his generation. He’d been with enough younger men before to know that.

And he’d broken up with enough of them when it became an issue.

He supposed, a few months was a good run, given his record. He stopped taking Peter’s calls and messages. Whenever he regretted his decision, he simply opened his phone to the last picture he’d saved from Peter’s messages.

He missed the kid so much that, a time or two, he considered whether he could tolerate it enough to get Peter back. He’d tried that before, though. Tolerating it once led to twice led to three times led to asks and refusals and arguments and the inevitable breakup that should’ve happened at the start of it all.

Letting Peter’s calls go to voicemail unlistened to and leaving his messages completely unread was easier. The kid would move on and find someone willing to satisfy his needs.

But that was the problem. The kid would move on. The idea of that put such a dull ache deep inside him that he found his finger hovering over the green button whenever Peter called.

That would never do. This wasn’t something that could be talked about over the phone. It was definitely something that couldn’t be talked about anywhere that there was a bed. That led to disaster. And unfortunately, his feelings for Peter weren’t going away by simply ‘ghosting’ the boy. Tony texted Peter. Dinner? 8? Marea? It was his favorite restaurant. They’d been there together before. It might seem like it was going to be nothing more than a make-up date.

 ~~~~~

 Peter’s last two weeks had been a strange kind of slow-motion nightmare. Sometimes everything was normal. He aced his classes. He wowed his study groups. He texted his friends and his friends texted back. Then he would try to set up a date with his boyfriend. He spoke to FRIDAY. FRIDAY would be cheerful as always, explaining why Tony couldn’t talk to him right then. Then he would text ‘I miss you’ and wait to hear some response. Finally giving up and going to bed. Wake up in the morning and start the entire miserable process over again.

Sometimes he told himself he was being ridiculous. He trusted Tony. Trusted the man with his life. Trusted him enough to tell him things he had never told anyone. He was in love. He just had to remember that he was in love with an incredibly busy man. Dating Tony Stark meant sharing him with the rest of the world. “I’ll just be patient,” he told himself. “I’ll be the most patient boyfriend that ever lived.”

Sometimes he wondered why he was so utterly and thoroughly unlovable. Why would Tony want to date a kid like him, a kid with so little sexual experience, a kid who had admitted to an entire, itemized list of fears? He was unlovable, and Tony was proof.

Tony had been his first serious boyfriend (serious boyfriend? Tony had been his only boyfriend.) Sometimes he convinced himself that he would just live like a monk, a monk who fought crime and worshiped a far-off, unavailable man. It wasn’t the strangest superhero backstory in the world.

Sometimes Peter was angry. He had admitted to things, admitted to things he never thought he would tell anybody. It seemed like a good idea at the time. And what had been his reward? To be ghosted by Tony Stark, apparently.

But Tony hadn't broken up with him, that much was certain. Peter checked his email, his phone messages, every social media account he had a million times. Checked them every morning. Sometimes got up and checked them in the dead of the night. Waiting. Waiting for the explanation that would never come.

Almost two weeks to the day, he received the message. His whole body collapsed in relief. He hugged his phone to his chest tightly and did a little dance. Grinned from ear to ear. It was okay. They were going to Marea and everything was going to be okay.

 ~~~~~

 Slowly, very slowly, Peter was getting the idea that everything was not okay.

They were seated to Tony’s usual table. Menus and orders taken, wine brought and served. During which Tony was near silent, making only the barest conversation that politeness required. Not only to the servers, but to Peter as well.

When the meal arrived, Peter realized he was going to have difficulty eating. His stomach was in knots. Something was obviously wrong.

“Pete,” Tony said casually, after he finished another bite. “What did you mean by that last picture you sent me?”

“Oh, I meant that I was going to not be late for our lab session because I whipped through my differential equations test in record time and I was actually ten minutes early? Except you weren't in the lab?”

Tony looked puzzled. “No. The last picture you sent. What were you trying to imply by that? Something you want?”

“I guess… I guess I was…” Peter dropped his eyes. “I guess I was bragging that I finished it faster than anyone in the class. The professor said it was faster than anyone he had ever seen and asked me to be his TA next year…

“I mean I wasn’t bragging… but I was. And you didn’t notice.”

“It sure looked like you were bragging. And wanting something other than an A on your exam.”

“In differential equations? We’re talking about Tuesday, right?” Peter took out his own phone and looked for the last pic he sent — which was from differential equations.

“I don’t know the date… I guess it was a Saturday or a Sunday. Maybe Sunday morning… yeah I think Sunday morning and you don’t have differential equations on a Saturday, so no, not that… Did you send me something about that too?”

“Something about… what?” Peter reached out and snatched Tony’s phone from where he set it on the corner of the table. He had prided himself on his patience this week, but his patience was coming to an end. He opened the message app, found his name, and scrolled to the end of the messages, then back to find the ones that had pictures attached. A cute squirrel in Central Park, a sunset behind Stark tower from the top of another building that he took just to text ‘I Miss You’. Finally, the finished test he’d mentioned twice. The one Tony hadn’t even acknowledged.

“There are things that haven’t come up before between us. And we haven’t exactly talked about the things that have come up between us. And that would be a pretty large thing to discuss. What exactly did you mean by sending me that picture?”

“Are we talking about the picture of the spider I sent?” Peter asked, scrolling again. “You never told me you were squicked out by spiders. I’m just a spider fan. You knew that. Everyone expected me to be an entomologist.” He shrugged, guiltily. “I just like math more.”

Finally, Tony grabbed his phone back. He scrolled through the messages until he found the one. He set his phone upside down on the table so no one else could see, then he slid it over to Peter.

Peter looked at it, started visibly, looked around to make sure no one saw it, then he grinned and ducked his head and blushed. Damn, he had felt so bold when he woke up with that in the morning. What was he thinking?

Oh yeah — he had been thinking…

“Well, you’re always telling me how pretty it is…”

“I’m into a lot of things, but there are some I’m not thrilled about.”

“I had a dream about you,” he said as quietly as he could and still be heard. “And I woke up thinking about you, and that was the result.”

“What kind of dream are we talking about? There wasn’t exactly a clear message with it.”

Peter looked confused. He started to speak then stopped. This was very hard to talk about in a restaurant. So he considered the possibilities. He grabbed his own phone and started texting quickly.

Was that really your first dick pic? I’m sorry I never thought… you were the first person to even walk AROUND with a phone in your pocket so I just didn’t think. I’m sorry. All you had to do was say you didn’t want that. Did you open it in a meeting or something?

It was ridiculous to sit there and text someone two feet away. Tony had no shame about talking about the issue in public.

“No, that’s not the first dick pic I’ve ever been sent. The angle and the way you were holding it… that is a first time without implying something by it.”

Peter put his phone down in frustration. He remembered exactly the kind of mood he had been in when he had taken that picture. Bold as brass. Fearless. Amazing. He didn't feel amazing right now. “I can’t really answer that question in a restaurant.

“But... remember when you took me to Paris? It was about Paris. Well it was sort of Paris... but yeah. That’s what it was about.” He tried not to sound hurt, but he was feeling hurt. How hard was it to say ‘don’t send me dick pics’? And why was Tony ignoring everything that came after that?

“Look, there are things I’m just not into,” Tony said firmly, irritated by the kid’s inability to comprehend. “If that’s what you're going to be needing out of this, you’re gonna have to find it elsewhere.”

Peter pulled his chair up to the table as far as he could and leaned in, whispering. “It implies you want to see it. Because you keep telling me you like to see it.”

His chest ached. It hurt to breathe. What Tony had said to him, and convinced him to say, in Paris meant so much to him. He’d never forgotten it. And he could never discuss it in a restaurant.

“Yeah, it’s beautiful. You’ve got a big, nicely shaped cock and I don’t mind seeing it. Like seeing it, actually. But that picture was… different from the dick pics I usually get.”

Tony flipped his phone face up, the picture clearly visible to anyone walking past their table. At that point, making Peter feel uncomfortable was almost part of it. The kid certainly made him uncomfortable the morning he got that. Especially after the way things had been going so well between them.

Peter tried desperately not to gape. It was instinct, not to let your opponent know when you were hurt in battle. But dammit, he was hurt. “‘Things I’m just not into’? Squirrels, sunsets and spiders? Or, more importantly, ‘the things you think about during the day, and your triumphs and proud moments’? Because once upon a time, Tony, you seemed to care about those things a great deal.”

But now words like ‘angle’ and ‘holding it’ and ‘different’ began to register. Suddenly, he found himself getting angry.

“Give me your damn phone.” He grabbed it off the table.

He scrolled through Tony’s phone wondering if someone else was sending Tony dick pics. In which case he was really going to lose his patience. But no, there it was. His cock. Huge and lovely and hard. Hard because he was remembering the incredible things Tony had done to him in Paris. Huge because he had, with his sudden surge of confidence, placed the phone directly beside it. What could he say? He had woken up feeling cocky.

He didn’t feel cocky now. He put the phone in his lap, shielding it from other eyes, and analyzed the angle.

“I haven’t exactly been answering my messages or downloading the photos attached to them lately, so forgive me if I’ve had an entirely different subject on my mind than squirrels and differential equations."

“Well, we haven't talked in two weeks, so I have no idea what’s been on your mind,” Peter hissed.

Patience. Patience patience patience. He could swallow all this hurt and pretend it wasn’t there, he was a master at that. He was good at it. (He had practice.) But right now he was looking at the picture of what he’d wanted Tony to praise (right before devouring it) and wondering if that was ever going to happen again.

“That,” Tony said when Peter had taken his phone off the table again. “That’s been on my mind. Hard to get anything else on my mind. What, exactly, did you mean by sending me that? Because, like I said, if you want to fuck my ass, you’re going to have to find somebody else’s ass to fuck.” He shrugged. “Which, I can work with, I guess. Not the first open relationship I've had to have because of differing sexual appetites.”

“It’s a right angle, Tony. 90°. It’s just… you used to say it was ‘so pretty’ and you… wanted it in your mouth. And I woke up dreaming of the things you said to me in Paris before you… before we… and I woke up. And I was thinking about you. That’s what I wrote. That’s what I meant by…

“…wait… what? Tony for god’s sake… Tony? Only you would try to have this conversation in a restaurant.”

“It’s not a problem. Guys grow up and have different tastes when they do. It’s not like I didn't have a fair number of experiences in that direction when I was younger.

“It’s just not my… not interested in that anymore. Haven’t been for a very long time. And I don't see myself particularly wanting to get fucked any time soon. Not even by you, sorry.”

“You have a fair number of experiences debating the angle of my penis over dinner in a restaurant!?” Peter laughed, overwhelmed by the surreality of the conversation. “You were right, Tony — your life was a lot different than mine.”

“Well actually, not your penis. but not the first one I’ve discussed over dinner in a restaurant. Usually as a prelude to heading to the bathroom with the other guy in said restaurant. But that’s not the point.”

“I have no idea what the fuck you are talking about!” Peter whispered angrily. Except he wasn’t exactly whispering anymore. This was the strangest conversation he had ever had in his life. He was beginning to lean into the strange.

“Oh my god. One minute I’m working up the nerve to admit that I still dream about what happened in Paris and the next minute we’re discussing why it’s wrong that I want to… I don’t even know what. This is insane.”

Tony just shook his head. He was being pretty clear, he thought. “We’re talking about whether or not you want to fuck me, that’s what we’re talking about. Because that’s just not something I’m into. But if it’s something you’re into, I’ve got no trouble with you finding it elsewhere. Well, actually I do, but I’m prepared to adjust my expectations.

“Wait…” Tony furrowed his brow. “Paris? What the fuck does this have to do with me sucking you off?”

“I’m sorry I sent you the wrong kind of dick pic and I have no idea why you think I was thinking of that, but I’m just about at the end of my rope. I’m in over my head here.”

“The only time I’ve ever gotten a picture like that was from someone who had very different ideas about my sexual tastes. It’s pretty much a ‘sit on this’ pic, don’t you think?”

There were tears behind Peter’s eyes. All of his talks to himself about ‘patience’ were drying up. He didn’t have it in him to explain what Paris had meant to him, at least not in a public place. Maybe in the dark, in Tony’s arms, maybe. But not while the man was spouting nonsense.

He took a deep breath. “No, Tony. It was a ‘you told me it was pretty’ pic. It was a ‘you told me you like to taste it’ pic. For god’s sakes Tony, you told me once you wanted me to c… to leave a wet spot on your bed for you to find when you got home. I’m sorry about your past lovers but I’m not really responsible for them. I’m only responsible for myself.” His voice broke a little. He wasn't feeling very responsible right now. He had done everything right.

He had been the proper amount of sexy and tried to hide all the shyness. He had tried to be bold when Tony wanted him to be bold. He had been patient. He had been positive. He was even attempting to have this incredibly personal conversation in a public place because Tony wanted to. He had done his best. But his best wasn’t good enough.

“Jesus Peter, how many different ways do I have to tell you this. I love you. I love what we do in bed together. There are directions I’m willing to expand into that and explore, but me getting fucked isn’t one of them. It’s not something I’m into. It wasn’t even something I was into back when I was young enough that that was all anyone wanted me to do. It’s just that’s the way it goes when you’re the age I was then. But eventually you get old enough to tell the other guy ‘no, I’d rather fuck you instead’. So, if you’re getting to that age, we’re going to have to talk in terms of how you can get what you want in that direction, because it isn’t going to be me.”

Tony had been keeping his voice calm and quiet the whole time, not even letting his exasperation come through in any way except his word choices. Peter was a smart kid, surely he understood the words that were being said.

Peter pressed his water glass against his face. He knew his skin was flushed and he felt overheated. He took the napkin from his lap and dipped it in the ice water and dabbed his forehead. It was probably a rude thing to do in this expensive restaurant, but what the hell? It couldn’t be worse than discussing the angle of the dick pic on Tony’s phone.

He took a deep breath and tried to say something that made sense. “Well, I guess I should say thank you for thinking that I’m old enough to be changing my tastes… I guess. If that’s really a thing you outgrow. But this is all coming out of left field for me.”

Taking another deep breath he thought back over what Tony had said. “And I love you too. I’m sorry people did things to you when you were young that you didn’t like. But if this is a ‘stage’ for me, a ‘stage’ I’m going to ‘grow out of’, I’d estimate you have another good ten to twenty years before that happens. I can’t see ever getting tired of it. But I guess you know better than I do… except…

“Except…” he said, looking back into Tony’s face. He could talk about science. Science was easy.

“Except it seems like you think we are both going to have the same experience, and the data doesn’t point that way. The data doesn’t point at all. You’re talking about societal expectations versus actual personal desires and there’s no reason to assume I’m going to ‘grow out’ of being… who I am.”

“It’s not a thing some people outgrow, but others do. There’s a certain expectation that the younger person bottoms, but then, as they start getting older, they find out that’s not really their thing. Or that they’d been putting up with it because they were expected to, even if they didn't like it much… or at all.

“Other guys don’t outgrow it. They’re just that way. Which is what I was hoping it would be with you. Because, if you wanted to, if it was a dealbreaker and you’d leave me over it… I guess… it’s not unendurable if it wasn’t often.”

Deep breaths and factual statements were helping incredibly. Tony’s voice was calm and that helped too. Speaking calmly and factually about these things means that things were actually okay — they could talk about more personal, painful things later. In private. Hopefully while naked.

“Well, I appreciate that your generation couldn’t exactly go to the library and do as much research as I did when I first identified as gay, so there's that…

"But, help me out, Tony. I sat down at dinner and suddenly you start talking about me ‘leaving you’ and I’ve got whiplash here. Literally the last thing I sent you was a picture of a squirrel.”

Tony raised his eyebrow. Peter was always a quick study and never this blindingly obtuse. Maybe it was the subject. He needed it explained more simply and perhaps repeatedly.

“Some guys are bent in one direction and others in the opposite. I’m pretty much bent only in one direction. I knew that the odds of you staying bent in yours weren’t great. Most guys fall in the more flexible position. I’m just saying that I’m not one of them. But if you are, as long as you didn’t have any sort of… emotional bond with whoever you hooked up with… I’d… adjust.

“This isn’t something even your generation goes to look up in the library, Because most of your generation is more flexible. It’s assumed that you both will, I don’t know, toss a coin for it, I suppose. I don't know how it works.

“The implications of what you sent kind of overrode my reaction to one of your daily messages of the sort I like getting from you.”

Peter opened his mouth but then closed it again. He looked at Tony’s face, and he stopped completely and took stock. He thought about the damn squirrel. He thought about how he aced the test that he wanted to brag about. And he thought about waking up with a raging hard-on and the need to brag about that too. And he thought about how much it hurt when Tony seemed to be ignoring him and what that meant. He took a deep breath, looked Tony in the eye, and spoke.

“I don’t want to ‘hook up’ Tony. With anybody. I don’t think you understand… it’s not that way for me. I don’t want to be with other people. I guess I should have told you that before. I don’t want to… even if there was someone else I actually wanted to… I don’t want to be with anyone else. I love you. I want…”

It would have been hard for Peter to do this in the dark, in Tony's arms. But dammit, this was Tony’s world. The world where you just have these conversations in the open. So he did it. For Tony. “I want to be yours. I want to belong to you.”

Of course, he barely got the words out. It was hard to talk without air. But his mouth formed around the words, which was something.

“I want the same thing. I love you, Peter. I love what we do in bed together. But, in bed, there are things I don’t love. Even if I do love the person who’s asking for them. That is what I’m saying.”

Being told what Tony wanted was almost as good as being held, so he held onto those words. And the words ‘I love you’. He took a deep breath, relieved, and tried to listen to the rest of what Tony was saying.

“All I need for us to be together is for you to understand…” He looked down at his phone, thinking about that doomed message that was supposed to be about Paris and wound up being about something else entirely. “…this is all very important to me, Tony. I guess I shouldn’t be ashamed of it, but I am, because I’m supposed to be all casual about some things and I can’t be. I don’t want to be with anyone else. And of course… I want to be in your life. I want that more than anything else.”

“I don’t like to share. Not you. Especially not you,” Tony said, admitting an inconvenient truth. The truth that led him to making this date instead of simply continuing to ‘ghost’ Peter until he went away.

“Which is also not in keeping with the way people of your generation approach things, I know. You’re not the first guy under thirty that I’ve been with. I know things have changed a lot. What’s expected of relationships. Inflexibility and possessiveness are definitely not the mode. But they’re where I’m at and it’s hard to see me changing that. I’m possessive. I don’t want to share the person I’m in love with, that I want in my life… for the rest of it.”

“I don’t want you to share… I don’t want to be shared! And I know I’m not normal for my generation or for my anything… and I tried so hard to… gosh maybe I should have told you sooner. Maybe I need to stop trying to be ‘normal’. I don’t see why I have to change. I just want to belong to you. I don’t want… I’m not interested in ‘hook ups’ and I’m tired of pretending that I… that I get it. I don’t. I can’t see being with someone and not… well you know. Blurting out everything I feel. I can’t really stop.”

“Baby, I am in love with you. And that doesn’t come without the possessive part. It’s worse with you though. Maybe because I’ve never really… felt this with anyone else. Not like this. Not like I feel with you.”

“Wait…” Peter stopped, the pieces suddenly falling together in his head. “Did you… did you just really volunteer to bottom for me?”

Tony sighed heavily.

“If that’s what it takes to keep you in my life. Like I said, it won’t have been the first time I’ve been fucked. I just never liked it. Not even when I was your age. It was just the way things were back then. Before a certain age, you were expected to bottom. And past a certain age, you were expected to change and to want to top.

“I wanted to be with guys and if that meant turning up my ass to get the rest of what I was looking for, I did it. But then I got to a point in age where I didn’t have to put up with it.”

"Tony, for gods’ sake I don’t want you to… why would I want you to turn up your ass when…” But he couldn’t really say more. Not here. He covered his face and whispered behind his hand. “When you do so many amazing things to me?”

“I can't stand the idea of losing you.”

Peter reached out for Tony's hand. “I love you.” It was like a dream come true, and while he wasn’t sure he had dreamed about it happening in a public place, well, here it was. “I love you and you’re never going to lose me.”

He wanted to say ‘I’ve never felt this way about anyone else’, but it was a silly thing to say. He had been in love with Tony Stark his whole life. He had felt this way about Tony forever.

Tony held Peter's hand, his thumb caressing the back of it. “You got together with me while you’re still so young. Before you have had time, really, to explore things you might find out you like or prefer better. I’ve had plenty of years to experience everything on the menu and you’ve just had one taste.

“I don’t want to hold you back, even though I don't want to let you go.”

“Tony, can we… leave? Please? I don’t want to talk about this here.”

“Okay, we can leave. It’s just… if it turned out that’s what you did mean by that picture… It felt safer here, than at home, to discuss these matters.”

“Wait… what? Now I’m really confused. Why would you want to discuss it here and not…” He didn’t want to say ‘in your arms’. It still felt very immature. “…at home?”

“Why here? No particular reason as to the venue, but some things are just safer talked about in a public place until they’re sorted and both people are on the same page. Where the bed is far away and not an option for where to discuss them.”

“Tony, I want you to teach me those other things on the menu. I don’t want to be with anyone else. We’re not talking about trying on different styles of shoe here. I… can’t do that with other people, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. I know I’m supposed to want to be casual with other people because of my age but I don't. And I’m trying to tell you, I don’t want to feel ashamed of that anymore. I don’t want to pretend anymore. I don’t have to. I can be a Tony-sexual and not apologize for that. You’re not ‘holding me back’ you’re loving me and I’m loving you and there’s nothing bad about that.”

“Since I’m rather Peter-sexual, you being me-sexual is a good thing. Because I already have enough issues struggling not to take someone apart who looks at you for too long. Having someone actually touch you? When you belong to me? That's unsustainable.”

Peter couldn’t help but smile. And beam. Maybe blush a little. The idea that Tony wanted to ‘take someone apart’ just for looking?

"Okay. So we’re both very much alike in the me-sexual way. And we’re both very different about where we like to talk about private things. And we’re not going to talk about me being with someone else in bed because I hate that idea. And you’re going to stop volunteering to do something you don’t like because I really hate that idea. Is that sorted out enough? Can we go home now? I kinda need to.”

They weren’t going to just walk home hand in hand, no. Peter was going to hold Tony’s hand and use his other hand to hold into Tony’s arm too. He hoped Tony wouldn’t mind.

But Tony draped his arm over Peter’s shoulders as they walked back, holding him close, making sure that no one would possibly think that he wasn’t very much taken.

“So all this was just a case of bad lighting, poor camera angle choices, and you making yourself less than clear about the meaning of that particular picture of your, yes, very lovely, dick, hmm?” Tony asked with a sly smile.

Peter reached up and grabbed the hand draping over his shoulder. As they walked he couldn’t stop smiling.

“Tony… you’re going to have to find me an online course on ‘how to take a dick pic’ because I have no idea how that looked like anything other than a yummy snack.”

“I’ll send you a few examples, if you want,” Tony said smiling, “Because I don't want you looking at anyone else’s dick pics, not even as a course of online study.”

Peter smiled. “Deal.”

“So the way things have been with us? That’s good for you? You mentioned Paris… Those are some very good memories we made there. Apparently inspiring in your dreams, huh?” he said with a little smirk. “What parts, exactly, were so inspirational? I can’t understand unless you tell me. Explicitly. In detail.”

“Please Tony, not here…” Peter groaned and looked around them. New York City. People everywhere. But then again… wasn't talking the point? So he tried to be brave again, and spoke. He spoke almost directly into Tony's ear, but he spoke.

“You made me tell you what I wanted. You made me put it into words. And it was impossible to say those things without telling you how they made me feel. How you made me feel so safe and wanted and beautiful. And I told you that I loved you. And I could, because suddenly I wasn’t afraid anymore.

“And I told you and I couldn’t be anything but honest and that was okay. Because that’s what you wanted. And I told you about all the things I was afraid of, and you made that okay too. And when I knew it was okay to be afraid, then I wasn’t afraid anymore.

“And also you made me come three times in an hour. There was that.”

 ~~~~~

 They were making out hot and heavy in the elevator, Peter boldly pulling Tony’s shirt free from his trousers and sneaking his hands underneath. As the doors opened they stumbled out. Peter had Tony’s face in both hands, trying to kiss him and lead him into the penthouse at the same time.

“I want it to be you, Tony. Whatever it is, whatever you want to do, I want it to be you. I want you to be the first.” He’d made himself giggle, trying to kiss Tony and talk at the same time. He only had one glass of wine at dinner, but now he felt drunk.

“That’s what I want. I just thought there was another first you wanted with me, and that’s not going to be a first we can share. Unless it…” Tony sighed. It was a difficult choice. “Yes, okay. I’d rather it be me than anyone else. The thought of anyone else touching you… In any way…” Tony said fiercely.

“Oh god, say it again, tell me I’m yours, Tony. Tell me no one gets to touch me but you…”

“I don’t want anyone touching you but me. I want you entirely to myself. I’m selfish and possessive and irrational on that subject.”

Peter laughed in relief and joy. Laughing directly into Tony’s mouth seemed rude so he leaned his head back and laughed that way. He felt giddy. “Yes, please yes. Please. I want to get ‘Property Of Tony Stark’ tattooed across my back.

“Oh god no. Please no. Do you have any idea how many people did that hoping I’d be impressed and it would become true? Nope. No. No way.”

“Ah damn, then I’ll think of something else.”

“I can think of something that will make sure everyone knows you belong to me,” Tony said with a smirk. “Not telling you yet though.”

“I want you to be my first time, Tony, all my first times. I don’t know what else to have first times for, but please think of some and then be my first.”

“Oh baby, we haven’t even touched one tenth of the first times you can have. There are entire places on that beautiful body of yours that I haven’t made love to yet. Much less places we can do it in. Positions. Locations. Methods. I can be very imaginative.”

“Oh god yes locations! Locations. I’ll let you take me anywhere on the globe, anywhere, I won’t protest, I swear.” He felt too dizzy to walk. He kept his arms around Tony’s neck as they tried to move away from the elevator. It made them move slowly, but he was afraid to let go.

“Then that just makes for first times at least several hundred locations. Sixty of them owned by me. Several rented. And then there are hotels to stay at.

“All of them, Tony. Each one. We have years.”

“We happen to find ourselves in the penthouse tonight and I’m not willing to wait til the jet can fly us somewhere else. But there are many many things we’ve yet to do right here.

“Yes,” Peter said, kissing him again. “Anything.”

“Anything I want?”

“Oh… crap…” Peter pulled his head away a little and tried to clear it. He had to be honest… Being honest had been a big deal to him since Paris. And ‘anything’ was a very big word.

“Unh unh. You already agreed. No backing out now, beautiful.” Tony kissed Peter deeply.

“Okay,” he whimpered a bit against Tony’s mouth. “…but you also said I had to tell you the truth about being afraid of bedroom things so I’m trying to do both.

“All I know is, if I’ve never done it before, I want to do it with you. I need it to be you.”

“Oh you’ve done this before. It’s not a first in that way. You did say locations, though. I was listening very closely, Pete. I always listen to you.”

“Oh… oh good.” He grinned from ear to ear. Tony listening to him was all he wanted.

“Hmm. First, location. Time for other things later.” Tony took Peter’s hand and started slowly walking him away from the elevator doors, unbuttoning Peter’s shirt, dropping it on the floor, kissing him as they walked, unbuttoning his pants while he was being kissed and walked, pushing his pants and underwear down and nearly tripping the kid when they got hung up on his shoes.

Peter was too happy to think straight. He happily helped Tony get him undressed as they walked. If they were headed to the bedroom to do it on the bed, he didn’t care. Just as long as he was skin-to-skin with his lover soon.

When Peter’s shirt came off, Tony’s quickly did too. When Peter’s pants came off, Tony was a little more deft, realizing shoes were a thing and toeing his off as he stepped out of his jeans. They were naked together, Tony wrapped his arms around Peter, anything to keep him distracted from where he was walking him to.

Which wasn’t the bedroom. They were still in the living room for now.

Tony slowed their walk as they passed the console table. He opened the drawer and grabbed one of the small bottles of lube he had hidden all over the penthouse. As he wrapped his arms around Peter’s waist, he kept the bottle in one hand. He started kissing Peter again, edging their progress along the large glass wall.

“Ever get fucked 96 stories in the air before?” Tony kissed him again.

“The… the window? Oh Tony…”

“Not the window, baby. I’m gonna bend you over the balcony railing, looking straight down to the ground. Where anyone over there in One Vanderbilt will be able to see you bent over, taking my cock in your ass. Watch you getting the glass messy.”

“No no no. Tony, we’re outside!”

“Um hmm. Outside where they can see how beautiful you are. You are so beautiful Peter. Stunning. You belong to me and you’re one more thing that’s beautiful and mine that they can only look at.

“But Tony… Tony… Tony…”

“But don’t worry, baby. All they’re going to see is how lucky I am to have the most handsome young man in the city all to myself.

“But Tony…”

He held Peter close and kissed along his jaw until he was whispering in his ear. “But what, baby? You know you’re beautiful. You know your mine. You know how much I want you.”

Tony gently turned Peter around, holding him by the waist, pressed up against his back, nuzzling into the nape of his neck. “The lights from all those people out there… Not one of them has anyone as beautiful as you.”

Tony kept shifting the lube bottle from hand to hand as he touched Peter, so the kid never knew it was there. Ever since Peter had noticed and remarked on it, it was a game Tony liked to play against himself. How to do the ‘magically appearing lube’ trick.

“But Tony… I… I… Tony I… ” Peter took in great gulping lungfuls of air. He had no fear of heights, never had. In fact he thought Tony’s balcony was one of the most beautiful places on earth. But he was outside, and completely naked, and that was just all kinds of wrong.

But then again, Tony was naked too. Naked, and pressed up against his back and saying the most beautiful things. Peter took another deep breath.

“Okay. I can do it,” he whispered. “If you stay close.”

“Where else would I be, Peter. I won’t let you be anywhere but close to me.” Tony’s hand wandered over his body. Up along his stomach, his chest, his neck, holding him there just a second before moving down his sides to his hip. He moved Peter’s ass back against him.

Peter gasped at the feel of Tony’s hand on his hips and moaned as he felt where Tony was moving him. He needed to make himself understood before he was beyond speech.

Reaching behind him he found the back of Tony’s head and pulled it to his own, until he had Tony’s face pressed against his face. “No, I mean stay close.”

“Baby, I’m gonna be right there kissing those pretty curls on your neck. I can’t resist them. I’ve gotta taste your skin. I’ve gotta put those beautiful marks on it. The ones I don’t even share with you. The ones that show that you’re mine.

“I love that no one else has ever touched you. No one else will ever touch you.” Tony rocked up against Peter, growing hard, frotting along the crack of his ass. His hand slid down from his waist to rest on his belly, just above his cock. He held the solid warmth of it there, then moved lower.

“I should let you have all the experiences someone your age would have. But all of those are mine too.”

“Yes, yes... yes,” he chanted, loving every word that was whispered against his ear. “Yes Tony.

“Oh… but we forgot… you forgot…” Peter stopped and blushed and looked back a little. Tony had supplies hidden all over the penthouse, making sex possible in just about every room. But there were no night tables on the balcony.

Suddenly he found himself grinning. “You’ll have to go back for the lube.”

“I will?” he asked skeptically. To be the ultimate of sneaky, he’d have to not touch Peter with either hand and Peter had asked him to stay close. He wouldn’t let go.

“Not just yet. Kiss me again… oh…”

Tony opened the bottle, giving it a squeeze, and let it run down the crack of Peter’s ass. He bent over Peter’s back a little more and set the bottle on the tile. His finger stroked through the thick lube, pushing it between Peter’s cheeks, fingertip swirling around Peter’s opening.

“Oh Tony…” Peter whispered. He couldn’t say much else. He was trying to remember to breathe. Tony had touched him like this many times, but being touched this way outside? It was somehow a completely different sensation. Still, he knew Tony liked it when he said something other than “Oh Tony.” So he tried again.

“Please keep talking to me.”

Tony was surprised that Peter could say anything, even at this early state. His voice was thin and reedy, almost carried away on the night air. He bent over the boy and kissed between his shoulder blades.

His voice was a low rumble against Peter’s back. “Do you want me to tell you how hot this beautiful place on your body makes me feel? Or perhaps how very special it is that you let me touch you here. That you let me own you here.” He paused. “Or perhaps you’d like me to tell you that there is someone on the 85th floor of One Vanderbilt watching us?”

“Stop…” Peter giggled. He didn’t really believe it, but he also didn’t care. In this moment, with Tony touching him there, no one else mattered in the world.

“Baby, you are always beautiful. But up here? Up where we fly? Where it’s just us? Beautiful doesn’t touch it.”

“Yes, it’s ours,” Peter murmured, hooking his arm behind him so he could stroke Tony’s hair. “Our sky.”

“I want to always see your skin glowing with the city lights. Like it was in Paris.” Tony pressed the head of his cock lightly where his fingers had been. Not entering. Just giving Peter exactly what they both wanted, knowing what they both liked.

“Oh Tony, what are you doing to me?” Peter murmured, eyes half-closed. He could do that, he realized. Could close his eyes and just concentrate on the sensation, on the sound of Tony’s voice, on the warm, solid presence of Tony’s body. Forget, for a moment, that they were outside. Forget that they were on display.

Tony stayed bent across Peter’s back. “I’m touching you,”

He guided the tip of his cock inside. “I’m touching you.”

He wrapped his arm around Peter’s waist and held his hand low across the boy’s belly. “I’m touching you.”

He let his cock go with his other hand, wiping it quickly on his own hip. He tangled his fingers in Peter’s hair with a slight tug. “I’m touching you.”

“Yes, please yes…” Peter moaned. He leaned back into Tony’s embrace, eyes closed, and waited. Tony would tease his opening like this for quite a while, he knew. Tony knew how much he enjoyed it.

But then again tonight was different. Two weeks ago he had done what Tony had told him to do — he had dared to request something bold. It backfired terribly, but ultimately it had paid off. Ultimately, it led them both here. To a better place. He was going to remember tonight. Tonight should be different.

Turning his head slightly, until his lips were touching Tony’s face, he kissed his lover, screwed up his courage, and whispered “Fuck me.”

Tony pressed the head of his cock in very slowly, waiting to feel that little pop as Peter closed around behind it. He held still at that point. “Is this what you want? Tell me what you want. Tell me again.”

Peter took a deep, steadying breath. It wasn’t as hard to do once Tony stopped moving. That was the beauty of this game Tony played. Knowing that Tony wouldn’t move until he was able to speak made speaking so much easier. Gave him room to breathe. He did that now.

Looking up at the sky gave him courage. Knowing that it was their playground, their territory, made him braver even though he wasn’t wearing the suit.

Keeping his eyes on it, on the sky, he knew he could do it. Firmly, he reached up and took Tony’s hand away from his head. Firmly, he took both of Tony’s hands and guided them to his hips, never taking his eyes off the sky. Firmly, he spoke.

“Fuck me,” he growled. “Don’t be gentle.”

Tony kept one hand gripping Peter’s hip. The other arm he wrapped tightly around his waist, almost completely encircling it, putting his other hand next to the first on Peter’s same hip. Holding him firm, making sure that he wouldn’t accidentally push him over the railing — not a fun way to end the evening — Tony pulled back and thrust into Peter all at once, fast, hard, not at all gentle.

“You think you can handle that, baby?” Tony asked.

“More…”

Tony reached up and grabbed Peter by the top of his hair, yanking it hard, pulling his back up against his chest so tightly he could feel the cold metal circle of the arc reactor between his shoulder blades. He fucked upwards, lifting Peter onto his toes with the force of it.

Peter let out a sharp cry of surprise. Normally he bit his mouth down hard when he heard his voice. It always sounded too loud to his own ears. But being outside, he realized very suddenly, had an advantage. Instead of biting down he opened his mouth and let it hang open. Then, whatever happened, happened.

He landed Peter onto the flat of his feet when he pulled back, then lifted him up again when he entered. Tony couldn’t get very deep in this position, but Peter’s cries were very satisfying. Not gentle, not quiet, at all. But loud. Louder than Peter ever dared in the bedroom. He knew they were carried away on the wind. Off to the skies where they both felt at home.

What Tony was doing to him was a very different sensation, and for several moments he let Tony continue. It wasn’t gentle, but it wasn’t deep either. As soon as he was able, he caught his breath long enough to speak. “Stop… stop…” he gasped, reaching back and touching Tony’s hip.

Tony settled Peter down onto his feet again, pulling back, leaving only the head inside him. “What, baby? What do you want?”

“Back up… back up a step…” Peter managed. It wasn’t easy to talk without air, but Peter didn’t want to wait to catch his breath. He pushed Tony back a few steps until he was able to lean forward, putting himself more at a 90° angle. Then he looked back with (what he hoped was) a wicked grin. “Now do it.”

Tony kissed the grin off Peter’s lips and then figuring out what he wanted, returned that grin with a smirk. He slipped out from him and raised Peter up a few inches to where he was bent over the narrow pane of the short glass balcony wall until the boy was looking straight down at the ground, 96 floors below, bent at that 90° angle he was asking for.

“You’ve climbed the tower before, Spider-Man. Get sticky and hold yourself up.”

“Oh fuck Tony,” he gasped, but his hands found exactly what they needed instantly.

“Yes.”

“Hold on tight, Pete,” Tony said, guiding himself inside again, then giving a hard push to seat himself. When Spider-Man stayed stuck and didn’t move with the force of his thrust, he increased that force and slammed in.

Looking straight down from great heights was nothing new to Peter, nor was feeling Tony trust deep inside him. But those two things together? Peter was grateful they were outside. The noises he was making now were completely involuntary. He couldn’t have kept quiet if he wanted to.

Peter’s feet were dangling in the air, so Tony held still, buried all the way in, until the kid’s toes found purchase on the inside of the glass the same way his fingers had on the outside of it. Like that, Peter wasn’t going anywhere and Tony let himself go. Fucking hard and fast with deep long strokes.

He knew that Peter always needed a grounding touch, but the position didn’t allow for much of that. So he splayed his hand flat out on the small of his back without pressure but warmth.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it, baby. All the beautiful world down there.”

“Fuck, Tony…” was all Peter could manage. He didn’t think Tony could see his face, so he didn’t try to hide his smile. Never in his life had he imagined anyone could fuck him this way.

“And my beautiful world right here so far above the other.”

The sight surrounding them both and the hot, tight sensation of Peter’s ass surrounding him was bringing him close, fast. His stroke grew shallow, his groans joining Peter’s cries on their flight through the New York skies. He let go of Peter’s hip, trusting the boy to hold himself in place, and slid his hand down underneath Peter, wrapping his fingers around the boy’s cock.

Whimpering, Peter lowered himself back to his feet and stood on shaky legs. He kept Tony inside him without effort (it was a good thing, being graceful.) He was so hard he was dizzy, but he concentrated on what Tony wanted to do next.

Back down on earth (well the earth 96 floors above the ground) Tony’s hand sought out all of Peter’s most sensitive places. His thumb sliding just below the slit as his hand stroked the boy’s shaft. He bit his lip trying to hold back his own impending orgasm.

“Oh Tony, what are you doing to me?”

“You’re gonna make my glass messy, baby. Wanna see you dripping down it.”

Peter reached backward with both arms and pressed his hands on Tony’s back. Eyes open, looking up into the sky, he leaned his head back and let it happen. If anyone was listening at that height, they would have no doubt who was fucking the twink at the balcony. Peter shouted Tony’s name endlessly into the night.

Tony watched Peter come on the railing, the sight was almost enough to send him over on its own. The strain of the boy’s body tightening around him… that was always irresistible. But when he heard Peter cry out, scream out his name… Tony hadn’t come so hard in his life.

With both hands on the rail, Peter tried to catch his breath. His head was spinning. He was pretty sure he had just been way too loud, but then again, Tony had been loud too… in fact… had he ever heard Tony be that loud? He couldn’t help but peek, looking back over his shoulder in hopes to catch a glimpse of Tony’s face before he had time to compose himself.

Tony’s mouth was still hanging open (ah, but Tony had been making some loud noises too, Peter was going to remember that) and his eyes were wide, looking up at the sky, just as Peter had done. Peter found himself grinning from ear to ear. It was a very, very rare thing to catch Tony not focusing on him. For a moment, just a moment, he had caught it. An unguarded moment. He treasured it. He wondered if there was a way to find it again.

As Tony slipped out of him he turned around and brought their heads close, draping his hands lightly behind his lover’s head.

“Property of Tony Stark,” Peter murmured, kissing his face. “You’re going to write it across my chest every morning with a sharpie.”

“Nah. Gonna make you write it on my windows with your come. Peter Parker was here. Tony Stark made him messy. Gonna let you write it on my chest when you’re riding me. Make you write it on my sheets.”

“No one will be able to read that,” Peter giggled, leaning his head back and looking up at the sky again. Their sky. His and Tony’s.

He leaned over and kissed Peter. “No one except the cleaning staff,” he said with a shrug.

“But I want everyone to know.”

Tony cupped Peter’s face and brought him into a long, deep kiss. “Baby, when you’re really ready, everyone will know.”

“I’m ready,” Peter whispered.

Anyone could get his name tattooed on their ass. People he never met had it there. He’s signed more girls’ chests with Sharpie than he ever cared to remember. But only one person would ever have something made out of gold-titanium alloy with the words ‘Property of Tony Stark’ engraved inside of it.

“No, Pete, you’re not. But when you are, I’ll be here.”

[johnkrrasinski]

Coffee with Cream

Chapter 2: Dream of You

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series masterlist

Pairings: Frank Castle x reader x Mad Sweeney

Word count: 2,693

Warnings: cussing, mentions of alcohol, street fight, men being men. 

Summary: Two men, one diner and little old you. Working at a diner had never been your dream job but, fate had a funny way of bringing two contrasted men into your life.

a/n: hey guys! as you all know my obsession over frank castle and pablo schreiber had been exploding these past couple of months. and so, me and @nellblazer decided to write a good old threesome fic involving these two bulky men. hope you like it. enjoy!

You laid in your bed that night with a romance novel that you hadn't had the chance to pick up and finish in awhile due to the weariness of working double shifts. It's the same old pattern for the last few years; you'd get up early for your morning shift at the diner, rushed back home to take a little break, and possibly enjoy your catnaps before your second alarm rings for your night shift. 

And then when the night was ending, you'd take another bus to get yourself home, take a shower and eat your takeout or heat up your frozen pizza, and went to bed. For years, life was merely a repetitive cycle of humdrum. You barely had time for yourself due to your relentless endeavour to stay afloat. 

Living in Brooklyn when you come from a middle-class family means that you really had to fight tooth and nail to pay the bills and fill your fridge. You were raised to be an independent and hardworking person by your parents and that's why it wasn't much of a challenge for you to work double shifts at a diner when you could've taken one. You taught yourself to push through your boundaries in life, and you were aware that sometimes it's not always convenient but at least you were proud of your own effort. 

That also means you didn't have time to swipe right and left on Tinder and find yourself a date. It was nearly impossible to find a decent guy in Brooklyn, let alone trusting a dating app that could possibly be utilized by creeps or murderers to find their next victim. Although your co-workers had suggested it many times to you, you refused to present yourself to the angels of death just simply you were desperate to get laid. 

But tonight was different from the others. It was comical, really, how one, well, two, actually people could walk into your life, okay that was dramatic, walk into a diner and elevated the sour mood that you had grown used to in recent years, and made a difference. A good one.

You couldn't remember the last time you had a genuine smile on your face. You also couldn't remember when was the last time you felt butterflies in your stomach. And here you are, lying in bed, replaying the scenes that took place earlier. In the daylight when the bustle was in full swing and in the nighttime when the city was placid.

You barely knew anything about them and you had only met them in less than 24 hours, but, you could still remember the way Frank Castle made you feel when his brown eyes stared intensely into yours as he shook your hand. The quiet yet magnetic force that he exuded only compelled you to learn more about him. In the brief conversation that you had earlier, you knew that he was a wanderer of a man.

He'd been hoping from one place to another, but he was thinking of staying in Brooklyn for a while and you were hoping that nothing changes his mind about that. You were really hoping that you'd see him again real soon.

And then, your thoughts drifted to the second man that you encountered with earlier. His auburn hair burned the lights in the room, causing a small fire that you didn't light up. But his amorous words had left you starstruck in a way that you didn't know was possible. You weren't one to stumble on a brazenly flirtatious man but something about him was too tempting to be overlooked. And the fact that he had this eccentric thing for coins made you wonder... What else has he got up in his sleeve?

Sweeney hadn't been able to get you off his mind all night.

The grumpy server who'd taken over had definitely not been a patch on your sunny optimism or brimming curiosity. He couldn't remember the last time a girl was so interested in his stories. Usually he got brushed off as a leering drunk or just a plain old letch but you'd entertained him, asked questions and given him a form of fresh cream to boot, all for him. A form of worship as it was.

You hadn't realised it of course, nobody ever believes in gods these days unless they're the Big Three or the Norse pantheon. Little old Sweeney with his Celtic cohort was hardly going to register on anyone's radar. I mean, fuck, nobody could even say his actual name right, let alone believe he was a god.

Even so, he felt refreshed, more refreshed than he'd been in years and when he got absolutely blasted on whiskey, the feeling was not the same as it was. The crippling existentialism was gone to be replaced by joyfulness and he sang most of the way home, thoroughly amusing everyone on his way back with his rude songs. He even danced with an old lady like they used to do in the twenties which he thought had made her night as she blushed furiously and began saying it'd been a while since she'd danced with a young man in the street.

Sweeney was having the time of his life, precisely up until he got in the alleyway and his loud singing got him into trouble.

There was a group of thugs hanging around in the middle, trying to sort something out but Sweeney didn't care to venture too close to find out what precisely.

“-Well I called me wife and I said to her: Will you kindly tell to me, who owns that thing in your thing where my own thing should be!” he belts out, stumbling slightly in their direction and he sees the flash of irritation on their faces.

The next thing he knew he was getting dog piled on. Bodies seemed to leap on him from every corner and all he could think about was protecting his coin at all costs so he sent it in the Hoard, the magical hiding place for his treasure and once he'd taken a few harsh licks to the gut, he tried to pull himself together to fight back.

Drunken brawling was his speciality after all.

He wasn't expecting it when a couple of the gang members were yanked off of him. He took the opportunity to jump back to his feet, delivering a haymaker to the nearest lad who's cheek splintered under his weighted punch. The kid dropped to the floor like a stone, howling about his face.

The next man behind him, he twisted and grabbed around the middle, running them backwards to the edge of a dumpster before letting go and watching his head clang noisily off the metal as they fell backwards.

Oh it had been a good long while since he'd had a fight. He missed the adrenalin, he missed the cracking of bones and the taste of blood. It spoke to his soul that was millennia old when the world was war, ale and feasting.

Sweeney finally looked up to see that another man was fighting with him, a shorter man, stockier and well built, a nose that'd been broken at least once and the buzzcut styling of an ex-military man. The newcomer shifted his position and Sweeney saw a painted skull on his chest. His first thought was that Baron Samedi was expanding his worshipper's network but it didn't make sense for the Baron to recruit a soldier when he preferred his company to be a little more love and less war.

Who the fucking hell was this guy?

“You okay?” the man asks gruffly as he sees Sweeney staring at him. “Get out. Run.”

“I ain't fuckin' runnin',” Sweeney wrinkles his face in offence. “Do I look like a pansy to you?”

“You look fuckin' drunk is what ya look,” Skull Man counters, elbowing an attacker in the mouth. “I'll handle it. Run home.”

“Callin' me a coward?” Sweeney squares up. “I don't run, boy-o.”

“Really?” Skull Man raises an eyebrow. “Ain't the time for pride, Big Red. Fight or don't fight then. I don't care. Just stay outta my way with that one.”

He points to the man who Sweeney had knocked out on the dumpster. His eyelids were fluttering as he started to regain consciousness.

“What's it worth to ya?” Sweeney shrugs.

“Are you fuckin' kidding me?!” Skull Man storms over, coming up until he was chest to chest. “I save your ass and this is what I get?”

“Didn't ask to be saved, lad.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you, right back.”

Just at the point where Sweeney is curling his fingers into a fist, ready to give a good old right hook, he's hit hard in the head from behind and goes down onto his forearms, scuffing them with pebbles and dirt. He scrambles unsteadily to his feet, feeling a little trickle of blood oozing down the path of his hair and sees Skull Man beating the living shit out of the dumpster guy before finishing him off with his bare hands.

Sweeney, meanwhile, jumps back into the fist fight, taking down every other gang member who'd dared to get back up. They make a break for it, running desperately down into the other alleyways and out of sight.

“You'd better run!” Sweeney bellows after them. “You'd all be fucked if I still had my spear. I WAS A FUCKING KING ONCE, YOU CUNTS!”

“I've heard some drunk talk in my time but you...” Skull Man shakes his head. “You're crazy, huh?”

“I'm a god, mate,” Sweeney holds out his arms proudly, swaying on the spot.

“Sure ya are.”

“And what the fuck are you, murderer?”

“Nobody you need to know about. You ain't seen me. I don't exist. I'm just taking out the trash of this city.”

“Oh aye? Are ya? And what did he do?”

“Shot up a playground.”

“Oh...” Sweeney tails off, looking at the dead man on the floor. “Well....good then. Good work. Bastard deserved it.”

He holds out his hand and Skull Man shakes it warily. Sweeney got the sense the guy didn't interact with people much because the handshake was stilted, unsure.

“Got a name?” Sweeney asks. “Or are ya hellbent on being mysterious?”

“It's Frank,” the guy replies after a pause. “But I was-

“-Never here, I got that,” Sweeney snorts. “I'm Sweeney.”

“Sweeney the God. A'ight, go on home then. I got clean up to do.”

“Nice fightin', by the way,” Sweeney calls over his shoulder. “See ya around, Frank.”

“I fuckin' hope not,” comes the quiet response.

Sweeney didn't care though. He was too elated to care. Good booze, a good fight and the promise of going back to that sweet little diner where you were.

He'd have to come in earlier just to spend more time around you. He wanted to know everything about you and more than anything, he wanted to see your smile again.

A god he may be but your smile was absolutely magical.

He sang the whole rest of the way home, already looking forward to tomorrow.

[iriswc1995]

Ash In Ordina

Chapter Two:  ‘Church’

The camera scanned the invitation, and the glass doors whisked open.  Ash tucked it back in her cloak and stepped inside the Worship Office.  Its vast main hall was nearly empty, supported by several marble pillars adorned with artificial torches, contrasting the square, clinical lighting fixtures illuminating the ceiling.  Her footsteps echoed through the hollow expanse.  She watched the shadows dance beneath the various grotesque furnishings, embellished with colorful trappings and expensive decorations.  She wrinkled her nose. The Redeemed were never doing badly for themselves.

At a desk at the end of the hall were two men wearing typical Rapturist attire who seemed to be waiting for her.  The smaller figure immediately smiled and stood up, moving around to the front of the desk with a posture of welcome.  He had a messy haircut dyed bright pink to match his large eyes.  The second man, a few feet behind him, had a darker complexion and grim countenance, towering over both of them, a large cleaver strapped to his back.  Ash met his cold gaze for a moment before the smaller one greeted her.

“Ah, you must be Ash!  Your appearance is very distinct, in a good way, miss!”

“Thanks.”

“And um, just to double-check, no last name?”

“No.  I’m curious why the Redeemed need to hire a freelancer.”

“Hehe, well…” The man scratched the back of his head before clasping his hands together.  “I doubt it’s going to be the usual sort of work you do… rather, we need you to find someone.  One of our high-ranking members has seemingly gone missing, you see.”

Ash tilted her head, but stayed silent, waiting for more details.  But then the man laughed to himself and spread his arms.

“Sorry sorry, where are my manners!  My name is Alistar Fey, Redeemed, director third-echelon, fifth mind.  And my partner here is…”

The tall man sighed, cracking his neck as he turned his head.  “Andre,” he answered coldly.

Alistar smiled and turned back to Ash.  “Politeness is what keeps the world spinning, I think.  Which is also why this is a strictly above-board, on-record job.”

“Right.  So who’s missing, and why do you need me to find them?”

Silently, Alistar took a small binder from the desk and handed it to her.  Ash’s breath caught momentarily as she opened it.  Real paper?  They’re rich enough for paper after everything they did?  Swallowing her annoyance, she skimmed through the details.  His name was Zachary Kells.  A life-long worshipper, decently wealthy thanks to his job at Skyvault as a researcher and engineer.  But it seemed he’d recently left his job to fully devote himself to the Church.  

“We’ve tried contacting him, of course,” Alistar said, scratching the back of his head.  “But no one has seen or heard from him in nearly a week.  He wasn’t involved in anything shady, to my knowledge, and was largely a homebody.  His residence is on this floor, and we sent someone to check there, but no answer again.  And since he lives in one of the Castles, well…”

Ash closed the binder.  “You need someone who’s good at getting inside places they aren’t supposed to.  And you don’t want the authorities involved, for reasons which I’m sure you won’t tell me.”

Alistar hesitated.  Ash nodded and continued.

“It’s fine.  I’ll find him... for the amount we agreed on.”

“Wonderful!  Then, that should be all for our business here.  Part of me hopes you’ll simply find him at home, but I rather doubt it, unfortunately…”

“Freelancer.”  Andre said, taking a step forward for the first time.  Ash flicked her eyes towards him and stood up straight, hands open at her sides.  He raised an eyebrow and simply folded his arms.

“Watch yourself.  Unsavory types buzz around these neighborhoods like hungry flies.  Zachary is an important man.  I trust you’ll do your best to keep him safe.”

Ash hesitated for a long moment, thoughts swimming beneath the man’s cold gaze.  Does he know something about me…? Finally, Ash simply nodded and turned to exit the office hall.

-----

Dark streets caked in rolling fog, dimly illuminated by fading streetlamps.  One could almost mistake this for outside, if not for the globes of faint light on the ceiling, nearly two-hundred feet above, staring like gray stars.  The housing here, the Castles, were essentially buildings unto themselves, like houses stacked on one another.  Security systems and relatively safe neighborhoods, on top of this, were what created the floors home to the wealthier-than-most but not nearly of the mega-rich status.

Ash walked to a street corner two blocks away from the Worship Office, where she found Cygnus waiting for her, playing a game on his phone.  He brushed his hair out of his eyes as she approached.

“So, is it about what we figured?”

She shrugged.  “No assassinations or whatever.  They're just missing one of their top guys.  I need your help getting into his place.”

Cygnus nodded, and started following behind her.  His face wore the same dark look that Ash figured she had made when she entered the Church.  Neither of them liked doing work like this, and Cygnus had even more reason than most to despise the Worship Unity and everything they did.  Their footsteps echoed along the cracked street.  No one else was milling around this late in the evening.  But then, someone made themselves known.

Harsh voices clamored from a nearby alleyway.  Scattered around the trash-filled crevice like chattering rats were several individuals of varying appearance, though the black, red-trimmed jackets wrapped around each of their waists indicated they were a group.  There were six in total, some tall, some muscular, some squatting on dumpsters, others leaning against the wall.  Almost all of them had some kind of augmentation or another - metal arms, thousand-eyes implants, studded or scaled flesh.  Their weapons were crude, but looked sharp - probably scavenged from the Bone Forest.  They turned to look at the pair as they began to pass, and Ash stopped suddenly as their gazes met.  She recognized their appearance, their vibe, and this scent.  These were Harvesters without a doubt.  Before there could be any pretense of just passing through, the group quickly filed out of the alleyway to block their path, their faces grim yet thrilled.  Ash sighed and turned to Cygnus.

“Go on ahead.  I'll handle this.”

“… you sure?”

She nodded.  Cygnus scanned the group with an analytical look before hesitantly stepping forward, whispering to Ash as he passed.

“Don't get in trouble.”

“I'll do my best.”

He walked past the Harvesters, not meeting any of their sharp looks, and while a couple of them spit in his direction, none of them made a move to attack.  The tallest one, most certainly the leader judging by her demeanor, stepped forward.  Her arms were muscular and heavily scarred, the sleeves of her jacket were ringed with iron spikes, and she wore a mask that covered the top half of her face, adorned with chaotic black and red designs.  Her wild, black-haired ponytail nearly reached her waist.  She leaned into Ash's face and laughed.

“How's it going, killer?  Where ya heading to?  Gonna chop off some more heads with that shitty sword of yours?”

Ash stared back, coldly.  Her stomach was tied in a knot, but she didn't let herself panic.  She knew this type.

“I don't see how that's your business, bitch.”

The group laughed again, and the woman smiled.  Ash knew better than to use honorifics like ‘miss’ around Harvesters.  The leader leaned back, walking around Ash as she replied.

“But it IS my business, motherfucker!  Our group here, we protect these streets from killers like you!”

She stood in front of her again, folding her arms.

“God damn, are you edgy-lookin’ or what?  I would have thought you were some gutless nobody if not for this scent… the scent of blood, so unmistakable… it clings to you like a haze~ and if I had to guess, you can smell it just like us, can’t you…?”

Ash rolled her eyes.

“Maybe.”

“Hahahaha~! So if I had to guess, you’re trying to turn over a new leaf or something?  Blood doesn’t dry that easy, kid.  A muzzled wolf is still a wolf.”

“You’re right,” Ash said, and flicked an inch of her sword from its sheathe.  Its red glow captivated the group for a moment, and several of them brandished their own weapons.  “So get out of my way or see the wolf for yourself.  I’m not better than any of you.  Except in terms of skill.”

Silence filled the street.  Strapped across the lead woman’s back was a massive saw-cleaver that made Ash’s katana look like a knife.  She sniffed a few times, then smirked.  Behind her lips, her teeth had been replaced with sharper ones modeled after a shark’s.  She stepped forward, and offered a hand.

“Name’s Tesla.  Any chance you’d wanna join us…?  We make serious dough off the rich idiots on this floor~”

Ash didn’t take her hand.

“Those days are behind me.  I hunt different prey now.”

She made sure to phrase her words correctly, sweat forming on her clenched palms.  To most gangs, you're either a threat, or nothing to worry about.  To Harvesters, you're either a threat, or a walking pay-out.  And either option makes them liable to kill you.  But mercifully, Tesla shrugged and finally backed out of her personal space.

“Fair enough, I guess… but don't go thinking you're done being a Harvester.  Everyone who's alive has to take from others to keep living.  At least the lives we take are put to good use when we sell off their lungs and heart!

“Save the preaching for the church.”

The other Harvesters laughed and playfully punched Tesla, yelling ‘she got you good!’ as Ash continued down the street, her cloak wandering in the breeze.

[rodgersandhypnostein]

Gypsys, Tramps and Thieves Part 1 - Mister John Acton

Thursday, 8th of May, 1817.

Pemberton, Kent.

Another week, another village to perform and be gawked at. If there’s one thing I know to be true after 20 years in this life, it’s there are two types of attention: good attention and bad attention, and all me and my family have ever gotten in our lives is bad attention. It was bad enough to come from an Irish family born in England, where we’re treated like second-class citizens. It’s funny how even the poorest, baddest people feel as if they’re superior just because they were born English, and are even treated better by others! As if being born Irish wasn’t enough of a bad situation to be in, me and my family are travellers! While I’m proud of my heritage, and I suppose my lifestyle as well, I know that it’s not an ideal combination to have. So all my life, I’ve only ever been seen as the poor, uneducated Irish gypsy, to be laughed at by the kids and looked down on by the adults. Sometimes I think to myself how nice it would be to just live a normal life, in one place I can call my home, respected by my peers, where I don’t have to worry abou-

‘Bradán, will you get your head out of that book and get out here. Your brothers and I have been busting our arses to set up for the next show and you’ve been sat in here, doing fuck all’, my father, Seamus. He and I never really seemed to get on - he says that I think too much of myself because I learned to read, and I’ve never been good enough in his eyes.

Begrudgingly, I got up with as little visible annoyance as I could muster, with an obedient ‘yes father’. Now you know what I do for a living, me and my family run a travelling show. We can do anything! We can read your palms, contact your loved ones beyond, and can even control your very own mind. Yeah, we basically go from village to village scamming people for their money. We each have our own roles to play, my mother’s our ‘psychic’ she can tell your future and speak to the dead - for a steep price. My sister is the typical ‘gypsy beauty’, meant to draw in horny single men and entice them with her dancing. My brothers are the ‘strongmen’, they can lift anything, break anything and seduce any woman they want. My father preaches from the bible, and sells various concoctions to cure any ailment. And as for me, I’m the stage hypnotist, I get the pleasure of hypnotising people to act stupidly, a small moment of relief from my day.

Unsurprisingly, our reputation always seems to get to each village and town before we do. We always have someone telling us that we’re crooks and hethons, doomed for eternal damnation. But desire and curiosity always win out in the end, so we never seem to go without at least a decent amount of money. Horny men will always want to see the half-dressed girl shaking and gyrating on stage, and the older variety of said men will always waste their money if it means that they can have a chance of growing their hair back, before listening to the preacher, to atone for their night of sin.

As I was helping my brothers set up the stage for the show, two men, seemingly the village’s most eligible, and dare I say attractive, bachelors were having a walk together, and were heading right towards us. Of course they never approached us directly, they would never risk damaging their status by being seen with us. But I could hear them talking amongst themselves as they walked past.

‘Lord! It seems those menaces have decided to plague our village with their dastardly tricks’ One of the three, a shorter man with a decent build, but who had a nice and round bum.

‘John, don’t be so loud, they may hear us. These aren’t the kind of people we want to provoke’ another man said, in a distressed whisper. He was also fairly attractive, with short, straight blond hair, somewhat shorter than the first man, with a less muscular build to him.

‘Mark, don’t worry. They can’t understand a word we say, they don’t speak English. They can only speak in that barbaric Irish language. They never had that hideous tongue bashed out of them in school, because they never went to school. You have nothing to fear’, said one of them, who seemed to be the leader of the group. He had dark, curly hair with a beautiful bone structure and build. He obviously was every woman’s first choice for a husband in the village. And with that, they fell out of hearing distance. Twats.

Nothing else really happened that day, other than a few of the local women coming to stare at my brothers’ muscles, with them reciprocating by putting on a little for the women. But I couldn’t get what those two had been saying about me and my family. They were talking about us as if we were wild animals. The nerve of them to act as if we couldn’t even speak English, how insulting could they get! And they were meant to be the gentlemen of the village! But there was nothing I could do except daydream about what I could do to them.

Saturday, 10th of May 1817

Pemberton, Kent

Well, today’s the beginning of our week-long freakshow. The show hadn’t even been on for an hour before we got our first naysayer. It was one of the men who had been insulting us during their walk. As luck would have it, our little John fellow was the local priest in this parish, and had taken offence to our heathen practices. 

Normally we would ignore this type of people and continue with the show. And that was what I was planning to do, until a truly ‘dastardly trick’ popped into my head.

I walked over to the gentleman, putting my plan into action. ‘Excuse me, Mister?’

‘Acton, Mister John Acton, the priest of this parish. And as priest of this parish, I can’t stand by and allow my flock to be tempted by your unholy deeds’. He replied, rather aggressively, but that was to be expected.

‘Of course, Mister Acton. I can perfectly understand why you would be inclined to think that way. But that’s not necessarily what we do around here. In fact, I use my hypnotism to bring people’s inner soul and spirit out, so they can be brought closer to God. We’ve always been of the belief that we can never truly know the wisdom of our creator, but with an open heart we can begin to understand it. I can give you a demonstration if you’d like’ Absolute rubbish. All of it. But I needed him to believe it had something to do with God for him to agree.

‘All right. I’ll try it if it can help me understand God’s power and wisdom, but not here, I can’t let the parishioners see me agreeing to this.’ He gave in. Perfect. The fly enters the spider’s web, unaware of what’s in store for him.

‘Of course not. We’ll do it in private, besides, only God should know of your devotion to him.’

We began walking to the family carriage, and couldn’t help but get semi-hard at the idea of enslaving the first of the many attractive men in this village’.

‘Alright, Mister Acton, if you would sit yourself down there. Very good. So to begin I’ll just ask you to keep close attention to his pendant, as I slowly swing it from side to side, not breaking your gaze from it. Very good’. 

Now it begins, and I want to bring this man slowly to his downfall, as a bit of revenge for the insulting words he said yesterday. This is something I’m taking great pleasure in.

‘Now, as you concentrate more and more on the swinging of the pendant, your mind will be left more and more open for me to communicate with, and soon enough, God’s wisdom will be within sight’. This continued for a while, until I could clearly see that he was beginning to go under slightly.

‘Alright, I can see that your mind is opening more and more to my words, so I shall begin opening it. I will begin to count down from 10, and with each count, you will become more and more relaxed, and at 0, you’ll fall into a deep trance’.

‘10, getting more comfortable in your seat’

‘9, your body feeling almost weightless’

‘8, your breathing is getting deeper and deeper’

‘7, you’re beginning to sigh with relaxation at each breath’

‘6, your mind is beginning to lose control of your body’

‘5, you can’t help but increasingly hard from the relaxation’

‘4, you can’t help but rub your bum across the chair, for stimulation’

‘3, you’re slowly getting addicted to this relaxation and pleasure’

‘2, you’ll do anything to feel this relaxation and pleasure’

‘1, you’ll serve me in any way I command, to continue feeling this pleasure’

‘0, now sleep!’

And with that, the priest’s short, thick frame slumped over slightly in the chair, with a hard cock and arse on display, with a small, dreamy smile on his face.

‘When I snap my fingers, you’ll awaken and do anything I ask. I will also be able to bring you back to this state whenever I utter the words ‘butt boy’. Do you understand?’. Now that he was firmly under my control, I was going to have some fun with this man.

‘Yes’ he replied in a sleepy voice.

‘Yes Master, you need to say’ My cock instantly sprung to life with that command, realising the commanding potential I have.

‘Yes Master’, he replied in a pleasurable voice, no doubt because he obeyed my command.

‘Very good, slave. Now the first thing I want you to do is strip. God never intended for us humans to wear clothes, and thus to prove your faith to him, you must show him your rejection of such an unnatural practice’. Well, that and because I wanted to see that juicy arse in all its glory.

‘Yes Master’. With that, my newest slave began to strip down to his bare body. He then sat back down into his chair, but not before I got a glimpse of his perfect bum and decently-sized cock, pity it will never be used however.

‘Now, John. As you may be aware, the penis is the source of all human life. It is thus the closest to God we will ever come. Therefore, just as God should be worshipped and adored, so should the human penis. Luckily for you, I’m willing to let you do that on mine. You don’t have to fear anyone finding, it’ll be our little secret.’

‘Yes, penis must be worshipped’ He repeated, sliding down onto the floor. He then proceeded to pull my dick out of my trousers before lovingly gazing at it.

‘In fact, it’s been said that one of the best ways of showing your adoration of the male penis is to use your mouth. So go ahead, start licking it.’ Unsurprisingly, he obeyed. His licks began small, only using the tip of tongue for short licks. However, as he continued, and began to enjoy it more, he started using the whole surface of his tongue, licking from the tip to base, up and down.

‘Very good, you’re making it very happy indeed. Another way to show how much you love the male penis is to wrap your whole mouth around, and like how you licked, go up and down. I can promise you this will make the penis very appreciated.’ And with that, I began to get comfortable in my chair as the once zealous priest began blowing me.

Even though he was new at this, the young priest showed a lot of promise in giving head. I have to admit, my cock has never leaked this much from a first timer’s blowjob. I could certainly get used to this. Although, after a while my mind began to wander to his thick arse, and I suddenly felt the urge to fuck something, and with that mind, I gave my next order.

‘Stop slave, I have one more thing to share with you. My penis is feeling so good because of your worship, and it has decided to give you a gift. Now, the penis is the source of life, and it has been known to give life and purpose to a select few boys who choose to dedicate their lives to its service. I’m perfectly willing to bestow this gift onto you, should you choose to dedicate your life to me. Do you accept?’

Now was the make or break moment. It’s one thing to get a boy to give me a hummer under hypnosis, but another thing entirely for him to surrender his life to worship it. Even though he is firmly under my control, I’m not even sure if he’ll accept.

‘I do, Master.’ 

Sighing in satisfaction and victory, I began to strip my clothes, showing my new servant all he has to look forward to. I ordered him to crawl over to the bed, taking the opportunity to watch his arse moving as he crawled.

Now is the part I’ve been waiting for, ever since I saw his big bum yesterday afternoon. After days of lusting after the young priest, I’m finally going to have him all to myself.

Although my dick was fully lubed with my slaves spit, and would be perfectly adequate to slide between those cheeks, I couldn’t resist tasting him. I ravenously began eating his arse. His hole tasted divine, I could have spent the whole night licking it, getting more and more addicted to the taste. But I had to stop myself, so I could enjoy the feeling of his hole wrapped around my dick.

If I thought the taste of his hole was divine, it was nothing in comparison to the feeling around my dick. It was a tad too tight, but that problem will soon be dealt with. As soon as I could fit my entire dick up there, I went into a horny craze. Soon, all that went through the both of our minds was fucking. I didn’t care if anyone could see or hear, I just needed to fuck this boy’s brains out. 

This went on for what felt like hours, until finally, I came. My cum felt so nice and warm in his arsehole, and I could tell he enjoyed the sensation, and would soon be wanting more, which I’ll gladly give. I knew right then and there that this power over men is far too addictive for me to give up, and I made a resolution to myself that before the month was through, all the men in this village, both single and married, would feel the pleasure of my cock in their arse.

[alightwhendarknessfell]

Let’s Talk

I’ve thought a lot about the situation concerning Ashley/Black Veil and the greater issues at hand here over the past few days. I’ve also spoken with a lot of people about things. 

Personally, this situation has turned into something that is causing myself to lose sleep and become very anxious. The likelihood that Ashley actually gets formally reprimanded for his actions is low just based on how cases like this typically go, and it’s quite clear that while people now know the type of person he is and that his career in music is over, those who still support him will continue no matter what. He will more than likely dwindle into irrelevancy and probably end up in jail for drinking and driving eventually. 

I have personally witnessed how this has affected the people involved, some of which are even close friends of mine. I believe that Twitter is great for some things, and catching people’s attention and spreading information is one of those things, but it can also be an incredibly toxic place. As a victim of sexual assault myself I feel for every one of the victims and fighting with people every day on Twitter who are willing to go to disgusting lengths to defend monsters like Ashley is exhausting. In my personal opinion at this point I believe people’s mental health is being harmed by the back and forth (not speaking for everyone, but I have personally seen how this is affecting people’s lives). And I don’t know how much more good can come from more Twitter arguments. 

With my MCAT approaching I need to get myself in the right head space and jumping every time my phone goes off because is it someone attacking me? Is it another victim? Is it someone in pain? That’s not a good head space. I also see the conversation at times going in a direction that I am not comfortable with or that I do not have enough information to put myself in. 

I do not want to out victims or people that do not want to have their story out there. I do not want to hunt down people and make them relive their trauma or pressure them to speak when doing so could cause a significant disruption to their lives. I’m not saying that is what is happening but I just don’t want it to A) come off that way or B) become that. In addition to that, it is very clear from a legal standpoint that Black Veil cannot say what people want them to say without breaking the NDA (at the benefit of Ashley). Ashley has retreated to his subscription only accounts and so that kind of leaves everyone at a stand still. This situation is incredibly complicated and perhaps in time there can be a conversation had but I just don’t think that time is right now. 

Speaking broadly, I will say that I am not for the cancellation of entire groups of people based of the actions of one person. I believe doing so can bring down innocent people or even potentially other victims. Should there be some punishment for succumbing to the bystander effect? I think that is fair, I think you can’t make blanket one size fits all statements but inaction can hurt too. And I think you should try and gather as many facts before deciding on any form of punishment for actions or inaction. Should you give people the chance to own up to their shortcomings and change for the better? I think so. Should inaction receive the same punishment as actions? I don’t think so, I think doing so allows the truly evil to fade into the background and minimizes their actions. 

I want to see significant change in the music industry with not only more protection for fans but for musicians as well. I see young kids, sometimes not even 18 thrown into an industry that has a habit of making monsters and addicts. The amount of leeches that feed and prey on these young musicians and don’t give a second thought to if that harms them is a big issue. Stop normalizing alcoholism and addiction. Stop watching your bandmate drink themself into a blackout every night.  Don’t create situations where a power dynamic allows people to get away with criminal actions. Check your bandmate when they say or do problematic things. I think there’s been a culture of ‘everyone looks after themselves’ but that’s clearly not working. I think if you are a band and you want to continue into the future that attitude has to change. The past can’t be changed, but the future sure as hell can. 

Beyond that, fan safety needs to be a priority. COVID-19 will change concerts and live music. And honestly, good. There should be more sanitation precautions when you have thousands of people packed together. The Route 91 mass shooting changed security at shows, and good, people should be searched for weapons. 

I think there are ideas that could prevent or reduce the situations in which sexual assault happens to fans. I think these should include things like ID scanners operated by individuals not employed by the band. No one under the age of 21 (unless they are direct family, significant other or a member of the band) be allowed on the buses. Venues need to do better ID-ing every single person that enters the venue. Tour managers and tour organizers need to do more to ensure that there are strict rules enforced as far as conduct. There needs to be a zero tolerance policy for giving alcohol/drugs to people underage and sexual misconduct. That will not prevent everything but it will make it safer and hopefully start to change the culture. 

I do not believe that every single musician is a pedophile. I think there is a disturbing number of them and I think there is another group that gets off on the power dynamic of 16-18 year old girls who worship them and that ability to control. I think there are decent people who have failed to speak out and protect their fans due to fear of their job/reputation/etc and this should serve as a notice that that’s got to change. 

This conversation tends to be very female centric but men can also be sexually abused. That’s not okay either. Band members can be sexually harassed and abused as well. It’s not okay to grab at them on stage or yell obscene disgusting things. It’s not okay for your bandmates to pressure you into drugs, sex or drinking. I will also say that physical violence is not okay. Not towards fans and not towards fellow bandmates. There’s a lot of toxicity and it’s all gotta stop. 

I will leave it up to people to make their own choices as to who they want to support or not support, I won’t tell anyone what to think. I will say that I believe it is best for this discussion to change on my blog as far as answering asks assigning blame or innocence to certain people. I stand by my accusation that Ashley Purdy is not only a sexual predator but a predator in general. But going forward I will be very selective in my answering of or posting of this topic. 

I am more than willing to continue the conversation of the issues in the alt-rock scene at large. I would love to hear people’s ideas on what can be done or just your thoughts. But for my own legal protection and sanity I would prefer that it not become specific to certain people/bands. I am open to private discussions about that and you can send in asks for only me to read but know I think this is the best move going forward. Obviously, other topics are all open and you can comment about anything else but it’s just... been a lot these past few days. 

Obviously, if something new comes out or if future incidents occur (not necessarily concerning Black Veil/Ashley but any band/person/etc) there could be more specific discussions but while I might personally believe or think certain things if I don’t have physical evidence that I am free to share (without harming the source) I don’t think it’s fair for me to open up a free for all. 

I hope that is okay with everyone. After my test and things in my life are back to a more ‘normal’ state I have further things I would like to discuss and post in regards to making my blog a more positive environment while of course still having conversations about ‘hot button’ issues, and a place where people can have discussions/comments and still speaking out when shit is fucked up. But perhaps in a way that doesn’t make me appear so hateful, because that is not who I am as a person. 

That all being said, if you are at all struggling because of the discussions being had right now. Please reach out to someone. That could be a therapist, doctor, friend, family member, counselor, etc. If you are dealing with trauma please consider seeking counseling to help you process and deal with what happened. If you feel you have evidence of criminal activity I encourage you to make a police statement or at least document it the best you can. 

I will end with this. I turn 25 this year and the past year of my life I have grown up and matured more so than I have ever before. I have learned a few things that I would like people to at least give thought to...

Please are a contradiction. Every single person has something for which they hypocritical about. Anyone who tells you differently is lying. There is no pure person, there is no one who is free of mistakes there is no one perfectly pure and consistent in ideology. It’s okay to get new information and change your opinion. No one person can change the world and evil will always exist. You will drive yourself crazy trying to eliminate all the bad out there. At the end of the day all you can do is try and help more people than you hurt. 

There are very few black and white things in life and you can’t always classify people as purely good or purely bad. People can change and that can be for better or worse. People have free will but they are also the product of their environments. It is easy to point a finger and say YOU/THIS is responsible and destroying this will right the wrong. It doesn’t. I think cancel culture can do good but it can also be toxic. Not just for the people ‘cancelled’ but also for the people doing the canceling. 

Don’t over analyze any of this or try and read between the lines, just think about it.