#but I can’t really do anything right now aside from continue to do my job to the best of my ability

[tacosaysroar]

5

Did you know U.S. expats have to renounce citizenship to stop paying taxes? So if I moved out of the country on a work visa, I’d still pay taxes to the U.S.* for as long as I lived. That’s bonkers to me — and we should have WAY better public resources if all of our expats are still funding us. (Willfully ignoring you, enormous military force! I mean other resources, like education and social programs.)

I listened to a podcast recently all about feijoas and now I’m desperate to try one.

Work drama continues. HR has officially recommended my manager change my rating and several big wigs are now involved. I can’t believe how long it’s taking to resolve this.

My first content piece went to the PR agency yesterday. They always have edits, that’s part of the process — they went two rounds with the writer my nightmare manager loves (which he took like a cat being forced into a full bathtub) — but they loved my piece. ZERO edits. My work partner made sure to point that out to both the nightmare manager and the beloved writer (who treats me like this is my first job).

It would be nice to win them over, but at this point I’m just collecting a paper trail of accomplishments to present as evidence if the nightmare manager tries to give me another shitty review or get me fired. I’d love to leave and wash my hands of the whole thing, but I need to stay long enough for [redacted] to happen. So I have to make the best of it — while continuing to search for internal job openings.

Having plans in my calendar over the next several months to see NFA and my family — mostly in warm, sunny places — is doing wonders for my sanity.

*Eritrea and Myanmar also have this policy, and THAT’S IT. Every other country is like, “Bye! Enjoy not paying taxes on services you don’t use! Have a good life!”

[evansbby]

𝐋𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐭 (𝒑𝒐𝒚𝒕 𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒃𝒍𝒆)

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dark alpha!Steve Rogers x naive omega!reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: spanking, daddy kink, a/b/o dynamics, misogyny, light fingering, biting, gaslighting, manipulation, animalistic behaviour lmao, 18+, minors dni

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Steve teaches you a lesson you’ll never forget.

𝗔/𝗡: This is a POYT drabble featuring Steve and his omega! Enjoy!

“Omega, baby, come here.”

Steve’s voice is stern, despite the pet name. You freeze from where you’re sat, hunched over your boyfriend’s desk where you’ve got a mountain of homework in front of you. You’d been buried up to your nose in textbooks and notes when he’d come home, and all he’d done was sit and watch you for the past ten minutes.

You immediately get up and make your way over to where he’s sat on the edge of his bed. Pointedly, he pats his thigh and you take a seat on his lap.

“What have I told you about what good omegas should do when their alphas come home?” There’s a dangerous edge to his tone as he casually pushes the fabric of your top aside and fingers your bra strap, snapping it against your skin and making you yelp.

“Good omegas greet their alphas at the door with a hug and kiss.” You recite before looking up at him pleadingly (although not for long because he’s scary and you can’t maintain eye contact for long). “B-But Steve, I was doing homework. I got d-distracted, I’m sorry.”

“Mm, see this is why omegas shouldn’t concern themselves with getting degrees.” Steve muses, stroking your hair casually whilst you sit in his lap, rigid as a statue and your heart beating like crazy. “So busy with schoolwork that you forgot your duty as an omega.”

“I’m sorry.” You bow your head in shame. You can feel the disappointment radiating off of him in waves, and it’s having a major effect on you, as usual.

“I’ve been at home ten minutes now and all you did was smile at me and say hey before going back to your work. When really, you should’ve greeted me with the proper respect befitting of an alpha. I thought you knew better, omega.” Steve shakes his head, twirling a strand of your hair on his finger before giving it a harsh tug.

“I should’ve known better, Steve. But there was a lot of work, you see, and—” There’s a part of you that finds it silly, because you have every right to do your homework. And it’s not like you’d ignored him! But the omega part of you burns with shame because you’ve let him down.

“Shut up.” Steve says calmly and you immediately bow your head again, only to look up when he gives your ass a harsh pinch. “Well? What are you waiting for? Give your alpha a welcome home kiss.”

Heart pitter-pattering, you angle up and tip your head back, pecking his warm lips softly. And it feels so nice, a large part of you just wants to continue kissing, just melt into him and feel his arms around you. Just make out with him forever because it gives you butterflies and he’s such a good kisser.

But Steve doesn’t kiss you back, and you’re too shy to initiate anything. So you pull back and duck your head. The alpha energy exuding from him is making you feel heady and extra submissive, so all you can think to do now is stay put and wait till he gives you permission to go back to your schoolwork.

But the glint in Steve’s eye shows that he has other plans.

“Stand up.” He commands you softly and you do as he says, standing between his legs with the rug soft against your bare feet. “Pull your leggings down. Panties too.”

You blink. He wanted to have sex? Well, that wasn’t surprising since Steve always wanted sex. It didn’t matter where you were, what time it was or what mood he was in.

You do as you’re told, feeling the cool air against your bare legs as you strip. It’s strange though, usually Steve takes your clothes off for you (something about how it’s an Alpha’s job to undress his omega). You wonder why this time is different—

“Bend over my lap.”

You blink before realisation seeps through your brain, and you see his hand flexing and waiting by his side. Oh no. He couldn’t possibly be wanting to spank you, could he??

Instinctively, you shake your head. “S-Steve, please, I said I was sorry! Please! I won’t do it again!” You desperately think of all the ways you can make it up to him. Cook him his favourite dinner and dessert? And maybe a big breakfast spread tomorrow? You had an assignment due the next day but you could ask for an extension if it meant keeping your alpha happy.

But Steve’s handsome features remain stoic. “Get over my knee, omega. And if you make me repeat myself one more time, there’ll be hell to pay for you.”

You find yourself over his knee and face to face with the bedsheets, quivering in his arms as he lifts your oversized t shirt up. You suck in your breath when you feel the expanse of his hand stroking your ass.

“I’m punishing you because you deserve it.” His voice is deathly calm and it frightens you. “And maybe after this is over, you’ll learn to be a good omega and get your priorities straight.”

Never in your life had you been spanked before. Sure, Steve liked to slap your ass all the time; during sex or even casually in public. But this was different, being bent over the knee of your alpha like you were some kind of chastised child, your body stripped away of any sort of autonomy as it surrenders to him.

“I’ll be nice to you, since you’re a baby and it’s your first ever spanking after all.” Steve smirks, hand still stroking and squeezing your ass, “I’ll only give you ten smacks, although you deserve more than double that amount for forgetting to greet me. But I’m not heartless, so you better thank me for being nice.”

You sniff, feeling like a child who got caught with her hand in the cookie jar — despite the fact that your offence wasn’t even that bad! But you feel so submissive, so you nod sadly and give in to your fate. “Th-Thank you for being nice.”

SMACK.

His hand cracks down on your bare ass, hard as a whip and you cry out in shock and pain. That hurt! But Steve is unperturbed by your pain, giving your searing ass cheek a rough squeeze. “That was for not addressing me properly.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, “I’m sorry…Thank you for being nice, daddy.”

Steve sighs, leisurely stroking your ass while you lay over his knee with bated breath, never knowing when the next blow will happen. “God, you have such a pretty baby ass.” He grabs one cheek lewdly and gives it a jiggle, “So cute and round, practically begging for a smack.”

He’s taking his sweet time, and it’s too intense, and you can’t help but look up at him pleadingly, “S-Steve, please, I said I was sor—”

“Shut the fuck up!” Steve says sharply, pinching your butt meanly, and you cry out in pain. “You’re not making this any easier for yourself, omega. I know you’re a dumb little baby who’s scared but that doesn’t mean you get to skip out on punishments. Keep your eyes on the floor, and if you look up at me again, I swear I’ll use my belt.”

The threat has your heart racing and palms sweating, and you look back down as Steve resumes playing with your ass. His expert fingers know exactly how to touch you, stroke your skin, pinch and prod you till you’re panting and trying to squeeze your thighs together. You’re still scared but you can’t help but feel your wetness seeping down your legs (and onto his thigh).

SMACK.

His palm collides with your ass harder than the first time, and you cry out, fisting the bedsheets and biting your lip.

“Count for me, baby.” He commands you, “and thank me after each one.”

“O-One.” You cry softly. “Thank you, d-daddy.”

SMACK.

Another hard blow, and you swallow harshly because it hurts already and you still have eight more to go, and you can’t help but sob, “Two. Thank you, daddy.”

“Aww, crying already, baby?” Steve coos, stroking your burning ass. “And just remember, I’m going easy on you. Next time you slip up, it’ll be the paddle or my belt.”

The punishment continues, smack after smack cracking down on your ass till you’re writhing in pain, crying as the tears flow freely down your face, and Steve has to use his other leg to pin you down and keep you in place as the burning pain is proving too much to handle.

“Gonna bruise your little ass up real good, omega.” He promises you, voice deep with lust. You can feel his dick, angry and hard through his jeans, poking up against your stomach.

“Fuck, you don’t even know how bad I’ve been wanting to teach you a lesson like this.” He gives your ass cheek another jiggle, squeezing it hard as if it’s a toy. “Before I’d claimed you, when I’d see you walking around, bending over to pick something up, your cute little ass poking out for everyone to see.”

SMACK. This slap is harder than ever, and you sob as you count and thank him, barely getting the words out as Steve grows more and more excited.

“And everyone would fucking stare at you.” He continues darkly, stopping his assault and instead stroking the sizzling skin of your backside, getting dangerously close to your slippery core.

“And like the dumb omega you are, you never even noticed. Fuck, I should’ve pulled you aside and fucking smacked your ass raw right there in the middle of campus, in front of all of them. Maybe then they’d have realised you were never a free piece of ass to begin with.”

SMACK.

You cry and cry as he has his way with you, his palm colliding with your sensitive ass over and over again. And the force of each smack has your clit — all puffed up and engorged — rub deliciously against the material of his jeans. The rough denim creates friction against your bundle of nerves, mixing a dangerous cocktail of burning pain and pleasure within you as your cream leaks down his leg.

“Tell me who this little baby ass belongs to, omega.” Steve orders you between smacks.

“You!”

“Say it again. Louder. Tell me exactly who owns your sweet little ass.”

“Daddy! You own my ass, you own it!” You sob, hoping it’ll be over because you’ve counted more then ten smacks now. In fact, you’ve lost count.

But Steve is still incensed, raining smack after smack down on your poor rear end — even though he’d promised only ten! But you can’t argue with him, can’t protest. All you can do is cry and take the assault.

“Damn right. You’re my fucking omega and that means I can beat your little ass whenever the fuck I want, you hear me? And you’re just a weak little baby, so just shut the fuck up and take it.”

He alternates between both your ass cheeks, landing blow after blow before coming to a sudden stop. You sniffle, the tears blurring your vision and the pain mixed with the desire between your legs making you heady. Steve spreads your ass cheeks slowly, pressing a probing finger against your puckered hole.

You gasp, the unfamiliar feeling of his finger there sending sparks down to your core. But all he does is trail downwards, dangerously close to your pussy which throbs with need.

“P-Please.” You garble through your tears, earning another hefty slap.

Steve leisurely swirls his finger through your dripping wet folds, gathering your sticky cream and spreading up on your burning ass.

“Wet from a spanking.” He whistles lowly, “how slutty can you get, omega? Does getting hit make you horny? Huh?” He gives you another hard slap, “I asked you a question, baby. Does getting spanked make your little pussy wet?”

“Yes!” You sob, “Steve! Daddy, please!” And you don’t even know what you’re begging for. For him to stop spanking you? For him to touch you down there? You don’t know, but you just feel so needy, all the sensations clouding your judgement as Steve’s attention goes back to your ass.

“I’m not even close to done with you.” Steve murmurs before licking his palm and cracking down on your poor ass cheek once more, the sound reverberating off the walls as you cry in pain. “I’ll make sure you can’t sit straight for a week, baby. Maybe that’ll teach you to be the dutiful little omega you were always meant to be.”

SMACK.

SMACK.

SMACK.

Your rear end feels fiery and numb at the same time, Steve’s onslaught never-ending as he alternates between smacks and pinches. Your flesh feels sore and abused, and Steve’s boner only grows harder underneath you.

“Mine. All fucking mine.” Steve growls, his blows growing more animalistic. And then, with a rumble from his chest, he leans down over you. And before you know what’s happening, you howl in pain when you feel his teeth clamp down on the sizzling flesh of your ass, biting down hard as if your ass is a piece of meat.

His bite is so hard, so animalistic, that you know he’s drawn blood. And you know it’ll leave a mark on the sensitive skin of your backside. But he doesn’t care, clamping down hard while his strong arms hold you in place. And when he finally detaches his teeth from your skin, he licks it all up. Licking stripes up and down your ass, practically devouring it as if it’s a toy for him to use and abuse how he pleases.

“Mine.” Steve whispers against your fiery hot flesh, ignoring your cries as he nuzzles his face against your ass, teeth grazing against the sizzling, broken skin as if he’s tempted to bite you again. As if he’s been taken over by some kind of wild beast inside him, one that wants to claim you in the rawest, most animalistic way possible. Instead, he licks and sucks and nips at your flesh, “Don’t you fucking disrespect me like that again, baby. I can do so much more damage than this.”

SMACK.

The final blow is harder than any of the ones before it, like the crack of a whip on your backside, leaving you crying harder than ever before.

And then he jolts you upwards so you’re sat on his knee, and the contact between your ass and the rough denim has you sobbing and sobbing in pain, feeling all sorts of vulnerable and submissive and scared.

“Y-You said… Y-You said only ten!” You sob in his arms. Your ass is on fire and you feel like he’d smacked you about thirty times at least.

“I know, baby.” Steve sounds surprisingly gentle but you can hear the smirk in his voice. “But as your alpha, I need to have a firm hand. And I knew you wouldn’t learn your lesson with just ten spanks. Daddy knows what’s best for you, baby. And don’t you have anything to say to me now?”

“I’m s-s-sorry, I’m so s-sorry!” You burst out, only wanting his approval. It’s like his spanking has broken something inside you, making you feel like you need his approval and forgiveness or else you’ll die. “W-Won’t do it again, daddy, I pr-promise.”

Steve smiles as he smooths your hair back, before casually gathering your tears on his finger when he strokes your cheeks. “You better hope you don’t do it again. Next time I come home, I expect you to greet me at the door, you got that?”

You nod desperately through your tears, heart thudding in your chest when finally, Steve hugs you close, giving your tear-stained cheek a soft kiss while he holds you and allows you to sob into his chest, repeating the words ‘I’m sorry’ over and over again.

“And look, you’ve made a huge mess on my jeans.” Steve tsks, and he’s got a glint in his eye as he surveys the huge wet spot on his thigh. You duck your head in shame, burying your face in his shoulder because you feel all small and vulnerable and afraid. “I should take you over my knee again, baby, for making such a mess.”

“Please no!” You sob quietly, wanting to be held and hugged by him but too shy and distraught and in pain to ever voice this desire. “ ‘m sorry, Steve. D-Didn’t mean to, it just happened.”

Steve continues to stroke your head as if you’re his little pet, pressing kisses on your hairline while his arms hug you tightly. And you know he’s the reason your ass is on fire right now, but it’s still this gentle touch from him that you crave. You feel so especially needy, wanting to cling to him like a koala.

“You’re lucky I’m feeling nice today, omega.” He tells you, standing up and picking you up along with him. “Now tell me, do you want to go back to studying?”

You glance back at your textbooks, strewn open and dejected on his desk, before immediately shaking your head, burying your face into his chest once more and holding onto him tightly. Your brain feels scrambled and disoriented, your ass feels numb with pain, and the omega inside you is crying to stay in your alpha’s arms. Studying would have to wait.

Steve smiles, the wicked glint in his eyes still present. “That’s my good girl. Always remember that I come first.” He presses his lips against yours and you welcome the kiss, desperately kissing him back and clutching his sweater as he holds you close.

“I’ll run us a bath, baby. See, daddy has to discipline you, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be nice too.”

A/N: SKDJSKSKSKA IDEK YALL!!! WHAT DO U THINK ???

[vodika-vibes]

Congratulations on your 650 followers Vodika! I bring you a request. May I please have a fairy tale AU with Jango Fett. Jango is the king of Mandalore and he hires you as his son's caretaker. As you spend more time with Boba and Jango the two of you fall in love with one another and even though you are just a commoner and Jango can have any woman he wants all Jango wants is to marry you and make you his queen.

Once again congratulations Vodika! I look forward to reading all of your requests once they are finished ❤️

Cin Vhetin

Summary: After losing your well-paying career as an in-home nanny due to a lie, you’re forced to move in with your older sister just to make ends meet. You’re about to give up on ever finding another job when your sister brings you an opportunity that you can’t turn down.

Pairing: Jango Fett x F!Reader

Word Count: 2958

Prompt: Fairy Tale AU

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Alright, I've had this mostly written for days now, I just couldn't get the final section to come out right. But I'm finally happy with it! So I hope you like it!

“I’m home~”

You look up from where you’re putting the finishing touches on tonight's dinner as your sister waltzes into the kitchen, a broad grin on her face. “Welcome back,” You greet tiredly, “You’re in a good mood, Rayne.”

“Of course I am, I got to see my future husband-”

“You mean the one who doesn’t know you exist? That future husband?”

“Hush, stop raining on my parade.” She spins around the kitchen, as though she’s still a teenager and not a woman nearing forty. “Anyway, I saw my beloved. And we had a conversation.”

“Oh?”

“He asked me if I wanted two loaves of bread or if one would be enough for tonight.”

“Sis, that isn’t talking, that’s him doing his job.” You counter with a roll of your eyes, “But continue.”

“It’s a step up.” She huffs as she stops spinning and flings her arms around your shoulders in a tight hug, “But, much more importantly. I signed you up for an interview at the palace tomorrow.”

“You what?!” You spin and glare at her, “An interview for what?”

“Don’t freak out,” She says as she jabs her finger in your face, “I’m doing you a favor.”

“Rayne!”

She rolls her eyes, “As you know, King Jango now has an infant son, and he needs a skilled nanny for Prince Boba. And you, my darling baby sister, are a skilled nanny and governess.” 

“Yeah, aside from the fact that I was fired from my last job.”

“Okay, so you weren’t fired because of anything you did, first of all. Those people lied about you and ruined your reputation, and this is an excellent way to repair that.” Rayne says as she places her hands on her hips, “Also, I know you’re doing your best to get a job and everyone is denying you because of the rumors, but I really think that this is the way to go.”

“If I get denied because of this lie—”

“You won’t,” Rayne reassures. “Your skill speaks for itself. And the King is rumored to be a discerning man.” She places her hands on your shoulders, “Will you go?”

You sigh, “Yeah. Okay.”

She squeals and flings her arms around you, “Oh, you won’t regret this, I know it.” Rayne releases you and claps her hands in front of her face, “Now, your interview is at the end of the day tomorrow, do you have a proper outfit to wear? I know you prefer your tunics, leggings, and boots. But do you have any skirts?”

“You know I don’t.” You say with a sigh, “I have a nice tunic and leggings that I can wear tomorrow. It’ll be fine.” Rayne opens her mouth to say something, but you cut her off, “I know you’re worried, but my clothes will be fine.”

She sighs and folds her arms, “I know, I know. I just…you’ve been so unhappy since you lost your last job. I’ve been worried.”

You make a face, “Well, the rumors weren’t kind to me, Rayne.”

“No, they weren’t.” She takes your hands and squeezes them, “I’ll leave you to your cooking, alright? I need to tend to the garden and then get cleaned up. Call me when dinner is done?”

“I always do.”

Rayne smiles at you and turns to leave the room, and then she pauses and looks at you, “Vod’ika,” you start at the familiar word falling from her lips, “Our buir’e would be proud of the woman you’ve become. I know I am.”

Your face heats and you avert your gaze, “You think so?”

“I know so.” Rayne hurries over to you and presses a light kiss to your temple. “Now, I do have to tend to the garden. Are you good?”

You smile at her, “Yeah. I’m good.” You watch as she leaves the room and then turn your attention back to the meal you’re preparing. You are so lucky that your sister is such an amazing person.  You’re never going to be able to pay her back.

The next day, your sister walks you to the palace, where you join the veritable army of other women who have applied for the position. “Are you sure you don’t want me to wait?” Rayne asks as she tucks some hair out of your face, “I don’t mind.”

“I’m sure. You have better things to do than wait hours for me to finish my interview, Rayne. And I know you have some things you need to do.”

“Well, yes-”

“Don’t worry about me.” You reassure her, “I’ll be okay. I’ve done this before after all.”

Rayne sighs, “Alright. I’ll see you this evening then. I love you.”

“Love you too.” You watch as Rayne hurries into the crowd and you settle back to wait for your turn. You know it’ll be a long wait.

King of Mandalore, Jango Fett, leans back in his chair as the most recent interviewee is escorted from the room. He pinches the bridge of his nose as he tries to stem the growing migraine.

“Well, this is going splendidly,” Miles notes dryly, “Half of those women have never seen a child, and the other half would be bad fits for living in the palace.”

Jango grunts, and then drops his hand, “You heard the woman who claims that children need a firm hand?”

“Oh yes,” Miles’ smile isn’t nice, “I made a note of that.”

“How many more?”

“Just the one,” Miles replies.

“And what do we know about her?”

“She’s quite the talented nanny,” He replies, “Has been caring for children since she was a child, used to Nanny for the Kryze clan.”

Jango lifts his head, “Used to?”

“There were some allegations of inappropriate behavior. Rumors and hearsay, mostly. Though, there are quite a few notes here, from a lot of people, indicating that those rumors and allegations are nothing more than lies.”

“Shocking, someone from the Kryze family lying.”

“Hm, if only we could power your kingdom with sarcasm-” Miles counters, just as sarcastically.

“Yeah, yeah.” Jango glances at the peacefully slumbering Boba, and then looks at Miles, “Well, we might as well get this over with. Call her in.”

Miles nods, once, and leaves the room.

He’s gone for almost five minutes, though Jango knows that’s because Miles is doing his pre-screening. Something that he started after the second woman let slip that she was looking for a title and a crown.

Honestly, he’s never going to get used to these leeches. Being a member of the royal family is hardly worth all that.

He sits up when the door opens, and Miles steps into the room, looking very smug. Trailing behind him is a young woman. Her hair is neatly pulled out of her face, and her clothes are neat, but don’t hang overly loose.

And, unlike most everyone else, her gaze skips right over him to focus on Boba. 

That, by itself, moves her to the top of the list.

“The last applicant, your Majesty,” Miles says with a gesture towards the young woman, and then he bows and leaves the room.

“His name is Boba,” Jango says, “He’s only a couple of weeks old.”

The corners of her lips turn down thoughtfully, “Forgive me for saying so, but having such a young baby around so many people is not safe for him.” 

Jango leans back in his seat, and a small smirk plays on his lips. Negative reputation or not, his estimation of her is going higher and higher. “I haven’t been allowing anyone to hold him.”

“Well, that’s something I suppose.” She finally turns her gaze to him and offers a shallow, but respectful curtsy. “I apologize, then.”

“There’s no need for that.” Jango scans her thoughtfully. She is young, but she looks tired. And her clothes hang on her, as though she’s recently lost a lot of weight. Or the clothes used to belong to someone else. “You were looking out for my son.”

He picks up her resume and motions for her to take a seat, which she does.

“I have your resume here,” He says, “And, honestly, I have a hard time believing that you don’t already have a job. Nannying since you were a teenager. A qualified governess in your own right. You’ve nannied for some very big names over the years. The most recent being the Kryze clan.”

“That’s all accurate, yes.” She replies, though her lips tighten at the mention of her previous employers. 

Jango sets the resume down on the table, “Based on your qualifications, you’re more than qualified for the job.” he says lightly, “But, understand, Boba is my only son. So I have to ask about these rumors-”

She winces and her shoulders curl in on her, “What would you like to know?”

There’s something like resigned defeat in her voice, and Jango finds himself not liking it. “What happened?”

Absently she rolls the hem of her sleeve between her fingers, “I was hired as the Nanny and Governess for Korkir Kryze three months before he was born.” She explains quietly, “I prepared the nursery, made sure that the house had everything it needed, and when he was born, I was the first one to hold him. I don’t think the Duke or the Duchess ever held him.” 

“Go on.”

“I can’t remember a single instance of his parents ever being in the same room as Korkie for longer than it took for a photo op or a meal.” She continues, “When he started talking, he called me mom. The Duchess…” She trails off, “She wasn’t happy about it.” She finally says.

“They fired you.”

“And spread rumors that I was a Noble Hunter and that I tried to seduce the Duke.” She bristles slightly, “I would never. I have enough self-respect to not try and poach from another woman-”

Jango holds up a hand, “Peace.”

She quells, though she still looks very unhappy.

“What happened after you were fired?”

“I moved in with my sister, it’s where I’ve been living.”

Jango nods thoughtfully, “This position comes with a series of rooms in the palace,” He explains, you also get two days off a week, days that you can set. You will be responsible for Boba during the day when I’m working, but you’ll only need to take him in the early mornings, evenings, or at night if I’m indisposed for some reason.”

She blinks at him, “Wait, you mean-?”

He smiles, “The position is yours, we’ll work out the rest of the hard details a bit later.”

“Thank you!”

His smile widens, “Would you like to hold Boba?”

She immediately walks over to the infant and allows Jango to place him in her arms. He watches as she adjusts his weight with the ease of someone who’s been caring for children for a long time.

“Time for the grand tour,” Jango says, “Follow me please.”

You settle into your new routine with ease. King Jango is a fine father and an even better man. He never treats you as if you’re less than him, and he listens to you if you say that there’s something wrong with Boba, or if you note that something needs to be changed.

In the 6 months that you’ve worked for him, you come to realize that you’ve never been as comfortable working for a family as you do when working for the King.

And yes, there is something of a small crush there. But you would never dream of risking your job in the hopes of catching his eye.

At 6 months old, Boba can roll over in both directions, and he babbles, though he still isn’t quite at the talking stage. More importantly, he’s learned stranger anxiety. Luckily, you’re not a stranger and he reaches for you as often as he reaches for his father.

Right now, though, Boba’s asleep in his crib and you’re organizing his nursery.

It’s one of the few nights where Jango isn’t able to put Boba down for the night, though, knowing the King, he’ll pop in as soon as he’s done in his meeting.

And, true to your expectations, half an hour later the nursery door opens. 

The King offers you a tired smile, and then walks over to the crib to peer down at the baby, “How was he today?”

“A little grumpy.” You reply, “But he settled around noon time.”

“That’s good.” You watch as Jango smoothes a curl off of Boba’s forehead, “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to put him down for the night.”

“It happens,” You reply lightly, you slip a couple more diapers into the drawer, and then you glance at him, “It’s been happening a lot these last couple of weeks.” You note, almost absently.

It’s an offer for him to confide in you if he wants.

Jango sighs, “It has, yes.” He falls silent for a moment, “I know I only hired you to take care of Boba, but it’d be nice to have someone to talk to. Someone who’s not involved.”

You finish folding Boba’s clothes and put them in the dresser before you turn to look at him, “I’m always happy to listen, Jango.” You make sure the baby monitor is on, and then follow him out of Boba’s nursery and into Jango’s suites.

You sink onto one of the plush couches as he offers you a glass of juice, before he sits next to you, “The Council, and Miles, are pushing me to get married.” Jango says.

“I wasn’t aware that you had a partner,” You note thoughtfully as you take a sip of the juice and set the cup on the table.

“I don’t. That’s the problem.”

“You’re the King, if you want them to stop just tell them.”

“Sadly, it doesn’t work like that. They have lists of women who might be interested in marrying me, but—” He shakes his head.

“But you’re not interested.”

“I’m not blind, I’m well aware that I could have any noblewoman that I wanted. The problem is that I don’t want any of them.”

“May I ask why not?” You ask, curious.

“Boba.”

You exhale slowly, “Okay, that’s fair.”

“Plus, I have no interest in firing you. And the last thing I want is to put you in another situation like the Kryze situation.”

“That’s kind of you, Jango. But I really shouldn’t be a consideration in this.”

“Why not? You’re basically Boba’s mother at this point.”

You laugh softly, “That’s going to get me in trouble, I know it.”

Jango leans back for a moment, his dark eyes scanning you, “I lied.”

“About?”

“Not wanting any woman specifically.” Jango clarifies, “There’s one woman I’m interested in.”

“Okay, so you should talk to her.”

“I am.”

“Oh. Oh!” Your face heats and you press your hands against your cheeks, “Me. You mean me.”

Jango chuckles softly, though there’s nothing unkind there, “I do mean you.”

“But I’m just a nanny.”

“So? My parents were farmers, it was my adoptive dad who made me King.” Jango shifts on the couch so that his knees are almost touching you, “Boba loves you. And you’ve managed to keep me sane these last six months.”

“I don’t know anything about ruling a kingdom.”

“You don’t have to, that will remain my job.” Jango’s warm fingers brush against your cheek, “Tell me you’re not interested, and I’ll never mention it again.”

You stare at him, “I just…why me?”

“Because you’re you. Because the idea of you not being in my life makes me miserable.” Jango’s fingers slide across your lips.

“People will make assumptions—”

“Let them. So long as we both know the truth,” Jango leans in, his lips hovering just over yours, “You are the one I want. The only one I want.”

A soft sigh falls from your lips, “Jango—”

You’re not able to finish your thought, as his lips catch yours in a gentle, almost chaste, kiss. Your hands come up to lightly press against his cheeks, and then one of your hands slides to card through his curls.

Jango releases a low groan, the kiss deepening as he leans you back, so you’re lying on the couch and he’s supporting his weight on his elbows. He lightly nips your lower lip and then soothes the sore spot with his tongue.

You don’t mean to release the breathy whine at the feel of his teeth against you, but you do, and Jango practically collapses on you with a deep appreciative moan.

His lips move to your throat, and you gasp when he bites down on the sensitive skin located there, intent on leaving a mark.

You know that he would keep going and that you would let him when the baby monitor releases a little noise, and you both still at the sound of Boba waking up. 

He stares down at you, and you blink up at him, “I need to go get him,” You whisper. 

“Yeah.” Jango kisses you one more time, “We’ll have to continue this later. If you want?”

“Well,” You smile at him shyly, “I wouldn’t say no.”

He flashes an eager, and boyish, grin. “I can’t wait,” Jango murmurs as he climbs off of you and allows you to grab the baby monitor to hurry to the nursery.

And, when Jango joins you in the nursery half an hour later and wraps himself around you to watch you take care of Boba, you’re really not surprised. Just like you’re not surprised when his arms slide tightly around your waist and he holds you tightly.

You know that it’ll be a change, being in a relationship with the King. But you find yourself excited about the change, rather than anxious.

[imsosillygoofylol]

TRIGGERED

pairing: matt sturniolo x poc!reader

synopsis: y/n helps a murder suspect not knowing what she got herself into.

warnings: death, mental illness, smoking, tattoos, i THINK that’s it.

envy yaps: lol i wrote something like this before a WHILE back but this one will be better trust 😋 anyways let’s pray and hope i actually finish this 🙏🏾

“and we’re done!” you say finally excited to almost be leaving. you just finished working on my last customer of the night. “you can walk up to the mirror to see for yourself.” you mumble while cleaning up.

“ ‘s beautiful thank you so much!” she smiles eagerly as she examines her freshly done butterfly tattoo on her rib.

“yeah you’re welcome, you already know the tattoo after care i don’t have to go over it do i?” you asked already knowing her answer. layla was a regular you’ve done like 4 of her tats already.

“nah i know how to take care of my shit thank you very much.” she declared while carefully rolling down her shirt.

you giggle and give her a smile while you finish cleaning up. “here ma, thank you so much again you always get me right.” she passes you a couple bills with a big smile on plastered on her face. “ahh i love them i’ve been thinking about getting butterflies for a while now you ate down” she screamed while looking at herself in the mirror again.

you take the money and put it in your backpack as you let out another giggle. “you’re welcome”. you love your job, aside from the good pay you literally just get to draw cute things on people and they’re happy.

“alright my uber outside bye y/n thanks again” she leaves, the room now silent once again.

you finished cleaning up and you get up to lock the door as you’re now closed before you continue to prep things for tomorrow.

you finally had time to check your phone and you see the time.

11:56 PM

you see all the missed texts and calls from your mom. she always wants you to call her at the end of the day knowing there’s not much to talk about anyway. your days usually blend into each other, all you do is go to school and work. not that you don’t have a life aside from those two things, it just takes up most of your time.

you break away from your phone as you hear a knock on the door. you make my way to the front. “we’re closed” you mumble. startling the boy a little. you examine the boy he was wearing a plain black shirt, white shorts, and birkenstock’s. you knew who he was.

nick sturniolo

not that you knew each other, you knew of him. you’ve seen him around campus and his family’s like stupid rich. he’s a triplet however only two of them actually attend college. you don’t know anything about the other one, you have seen him at a party once though that’s about it.

his blonde hair layes just right above his eyes. he looks like he’d been crying all night. that or he’s just really high. he looks sickly though really pale but somehow he still looked really pretty.

“can i help you?” you finally spoke out as you unlock and open the door. this is weird why is he here so late at night you think to yourself.

“are you still open?” he asks his voice so soft yet deep.

what a stupid question to ask, the door was locked and the open sign was off. we’re visibly closed!

“sorry we’re closed. you can schedule an appointment for tomorrow though.” you say trying to sound as nice as possible.

“please i’ll pay twice as much, i really need this please.” he begs.

you start to feel bad, really wanting to go home but cant bring myself to say no. he looks like he’s about to break down into tears you can’t just leave him like this.

“uh okay come in.” you say moving out the way to let him in and lead him to the room. “um what would you like to get done?” you asked dryly.

“have you seen the movie edward scissorhands before?” he asked bringing his phone up to your face to show you what he wants.

“yeah a couple times, where do you want it?” you ask while unpacking the supplies needed.

“right here on my calf.” he points to the side of his calf. he had another tattoo closer to his ankle of two pokémon characters.

you slowly start tracing the design. what’s so important about this tattoo anyway that he had to come at 12 am. you’ve watched the movie a couple times, yeah it’s good but is it worth a tattoo or coming this late for one. you mentally curse myself for not being able to say no.

“you from here?” he asked looking down at you.

“nah im from new york city, i just go to school here.” you say keeping your focus on the tattoo.

“hm how long? i’ve never seen you around here.” he stated.

“about two years now, i don’t really go out much or talk to many people from here.” you continue working. the room was silent for the rest of the night, only thing audible was the faint music playing on the tv.

“k im done!” you smile down at your work. “is it okay if i take a couple pictures?”

“yeah it’s fine looks amazing by the way. thank you so much.” he examines the scissor hands tattoo as you take a couple pictures from different angles. “how much do i owe you?”

“one fifty.” you state turning around to clean up. he turns in your direction passing four one hundred bills to you. “oh no i can’t take this, it’s only one fifty.”

“no honestly take it, i came when you were closing please ill feel even worse if you don’t!” you nod your head and put the money in your backpack. “i really can’t thank you enough it looks amazing, do you have a business card? i’d love to come back sometime i love your work.” he starts to ramble and you let out a laugh.

“yeah they’re here in the front, you can take one as you walk out. you’re welcome it’s really no biggie.” it was though you have a morning class tomorrow and it’s nearly 3 am. you try to stay positive and not let your attitude slip out.

“hey i didn’t get your name.” he mentions

“oh it’s y/n.”

“nick.”

“oh i know trust me.” you think to yourself while you smile at him.

you explain the tattoo after care even though nobody ever listens. he finally leaves which means you can finally leave. you love your work and all but it’s so draining. you close up the shop and finally get in my car, the drive to your apartment isn’t far only 8 minutes but tonight it feels like an eternity.

you like driving though it calms you down, helps you think. you make it to your parking spot and really process what the fuck just happened. not that it’s outta this world cause growing up in new york you’ve seen and experienced some crazy shit but that was weird. you had so many questions but you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable so you decided it was best to mind your business.

you finally make it to your apartment, happy to shower and get in bed but even happier to see your cat luna after a long ass day. you unlock your door set your things down on your counter.

“luna mama where are you?” you call out waiting for her to pop out from somewhere. “luna baby where are you?” she comes from underneath the couch, you bend down to pick her up and smother her with kisses. saying i miss you and i love you. you feel bad she hasn’t been getting the attention she deserves lately, you barely see her due to school and work. all of a sudden everyone wants a tattoo.

you finally shower enjoying the hot water run down your body calming you. not a single negative thought in your mind. you start to think if should you smoke after or fall asleep.

you get out the shower and check the time.

3:48 am

“fuck i gotta be up at 9.” you sigh, you need to stop taking appointments past 10 pm and leave it to the other artist. you’re always the last one to leave the shop.

❀᭢͏ུ  

you groan hearing you alarm going off wising you could stay in bed forever. knowing it’s not possible and missing class is not an option especially not when your paper is due next week. you get up and get ready, putting water and food in lunas bowl before leaving and driving to campus.

you don’t live far from campus only a twelve minute drive. you hate being late though just the thought of everyone staring at you and observing your every move while trying to get situated makes you so uncomfortable. it feels like you’re interrupting an important conversation or meeting so you choose to be early or well on time.

you make it to class with five minutes to spare, sitting there just scrolling through your phone waiting for your professor to start the lesson. there was nothing special about todays lesson, taking notes and finishing up the paper.

ten minutes before class was over the professor started to talk about a situation that happened earlier this morning.

“as some of you may know there was a tragic incident that happened at around four thirty am this morning.” he paused for a second trying to gather all his thoughts, trying to use the right words before continuing. “the sturniolo family was brutally murdered, some knew nicolas sturniolo. he was a great student and a great friend to all. may he rest in peace.”

as he finished your face dropped, there was many whispers heard through out the class. this is all too confusing, you had just seen him.

your thoughts were cut off by the professor speaking again. “please appreciate all the people around you while they’re here, you never know what can happen. his brother is suffering from a great loss please respect his privacy.”

his brother? which brother?

people continued to whisper “i heard his brother went crazy and murdered them all.” said a random girl. “i heard it was nicks stalker, he was infatuated with him and when nick rejected him he couldn’t stand it.” another said. this is all so stupid. why do people jump to conclusions and spread rumors without knowing what really happened.

you started to feel overwhelmed you had to go home. before you left through the door, the professor said one last thing. “also the police will come by tomorrow and question some of you, please be sure to be early tomorrow morning. thank you all and please be safe”

with that you went home, you can’t come back to your afternoon classes it was all too much. did he know something was gonna happen? is that why he looked sad? you assumed it might of been a boy or something. not something this big.

you arrive at your house, trying to gather all your thoughts. not that you’re sad, you didn’t even know the boy but you can’t help but feel sorry for him, his family.

you tried to sleep, sleeping was like your therapy. or well not therapy just a way of not dealing with your emotions for the time being. sleeping was hard though, every time you closed your eyes you would see him.

you decide the beach was a good option. sometimes when you felt lonely or depressed you would go to the beach, smoke, and draw. it was calming, made you feel like you were the only person left in the world. usually you enjoyed your own company, you found peace in being alone. one of your traits your mom despised. she wanted you to go out more, explore, experience, have fun. not be locked away in the house when you’re not in school or at work.

you lie and tell her you do other things but she doesn’t believe you. she says she knows you more than you know yourself but she doesn’t understand you.

Y/N

hey mom i’m going to the beach i’ll call you when i get home.

sorry i haven’t called or texted much i’ve been super busy.

love you :)

you spent your afternoon at the beach, watching the sunset, hitting your blunt every now and then, sketching random flowers on your book. you could go on and on about flowers if you could, even nature.

you finally check the time when it’s fully dark deciding its a bit dangerous to be out so late considering what just happened around the area.

8:27 pm

you decide to pick up some pizza and call it a day. trying to mentally prepare yourself for tomorrow. you really want to call of work tomorrow feeling like there too much going on around you. it was overwhelming, you think you’re overreacting none of this really affects you in anyway so why do you have this suffocating feeling? you feel like you’re literally drowning.

“luna you have it so easy mama, i’d love to be a house cat not a single worry in the world.” you sigh while rubbing her tummy as she purs.

❀᭢͏ུ  

envy yaps: ermmm i can’t tell if this is good or not lol. guys trust the process frrr i swear it’ll get juicyyyy in the next part😈😈😋😋. anyways comment to be on taglist or wtv 😅😋😈😍🙏🏾

🏷️ ‘s

@tastesousweet

[slashv1xen]

Hiii! I have an idea in my mind, but you don't have to write about it!!!

Maybe Otis brings home a person he liked (not a victim, they met somewhere else) and waiting for them to realise about his deeds and THEN he can kill them because of their reaction. But the person is like "Oh, cool" and continues talking to Firefly family carelessly. What would be his reaction?

ooh this one got me thinking 💭

i reckon otis would be stunned, and have a blank expression on his face as he thinks why this person isn’t scared senseless. ‘what? how they ain’t scared?’

but if otis is interested in u he would probably have a smirk on his face and probably keep u around (ur also now baby’s best friend, good job!), but if not he’ll most likely kill u out of spite.

the two of u probably met in either a bar (this man is a heavy drinker), captain spaulding’s gas station or at red hot pussy liquor (he’s incredibly sleazy what can i say).

one shot 💗

“okay, enough!” you announced as you put the shot glass down, gasping from the taste of the strong vodka. the man beside you, who introduced himself as otis just laughed and took a swig straight from the bottle (much to the bartenders protests).

“what’s wrong honey, i thought you could handle this, hm?” he teased, chuckling at your annoyed expression. “not more than 8 fuckin’ shots!” you snap, in disbelief as he looked at you, amused.

“how about you come home with me, i ain’t so drunk i can’t give you a ride liar and my mama can fix ya somethin’ real nice. least i can do, especially after you paying.” you rolled your eyes at his offer, but a small smile on your face was present.

“fine, you’re right. least you can do after giving me damn alcohol poisoning,” you say, to which otis laughs and says that you’re being dramatic.

after 20 minutes otis pulls up into what looked like an abandoned farm house. if you didn’t know you’d think the house was derelict. the door happened to be unlocked, to which otis let out a grumble and pushed it open, the two of you stepping inside.

the house was a mess, to say the least. you stepped over the empty glass bottle and year-old newspapers and sat on the couch, smoothing over your pants. otis said that he’ll be back in a second, and for you to just “hang tight cutie pie”, smiling as you laughed.

after what seemed like a few minutes two women came down the stairs. a younger one, about your age, and an older one who looked about 55. they both sat down next to you and introduced themselves as “mama firefly but just call me mama” and “baby”.

you were chatting with baby about movies while mama was making you a “special meal”, when otis pulled you aside, a devilish grin on his face.

“well, i figured now would be a good time to tell you…” he started, purposely being slow to create tension (to be an asshole)

“yeah? what did you need?” you reply, looking back at baby who waved to you, and you waved back. otis sighed, that grin still present.

“i tell this to everyone that comes here, and well, none of ‘em have made it out…” you were confused, why was this man talking in riddles? “i’m gonna kill you.” he whispered in your ear, his hot breath on the nape of your neck.

“shit, really?” you ask, no emotion in your voice. he nods, waiting for your reaction. “okay, just make it quick then.” you shrugged and walked back to the couch with baby, chatting again as if nothing happened.

otis however, was dumbfounded. he just said he would kill you, and you didn’t care? how? he was so confused, he can’t even think straight. hell, he can’t even think at all. the smirk slowly returned to his face as he thought of his next move.

‘maybe we could have a future together…’

hi hi, this was so much fun to write! in my eyes, this is so in character and i can totally imagine something like this happening in one of the movies. please never shy away from requests, i’m happy to do anything (that is SFW ofc). have a good day and i hope you enjoyed!

[dailyhelldorm]

[TL] Hokuto 3☆ Story / A Proper Study Session?

Scenario Writer: Happy Elements (Happy Elements株式会社) Characters: Hidaka Hokuto, Kunugi Akiomi, Shiratori Aira Season: Winter

Hokuto: ーAnd then, this will be your answer. Do you understand? Aira: …I am sorry, I didn’t get any of it at all. Hokuto: Why is it so? From what point did you not follow? Aira: S-since the beginning. Hokuto: What did you just say…

[Let's start! ♪]

Location: Seisoukan Book room

Hokuto: Alright, so this is the place where they put the book describing the role huh? I get most of the gist now, so let's call it a day and return to my dorm.

Aira: Haa...

Hokuto: (Huh...? The one over there looks like Shiratori-kun, what's the matter with him? How to put it, I feel the air around him is quite heavy.)

Aira: (It is not gotta end, not gotta end!!)

(You are telling me to finish all these dozens of math prints by tomorrow... That's impossible! There is no way I can do it!)

(Urgh, but my math test result is just too awful, I felt so bad... Especially with that kind of grade...)

(But that was because I was busy with work recently! I didn't have the time to study for the test!)

(Hah... I just keep complaining, but not that it will help me lessen this mountain of homework... If I knew things would be like this, I would have asked Hiro-kun to help me study.)

(It can't be helped, I just have to push through. Let's start with the first question...)

The first question...?

What the hell is this, I can't understand anything at all!

Hokuto: You must keep quiet inside the book room, Shiratori-kun.

Aira: Wah-wah, Hidaka-senpai! I'm so sorry! Did I just say everything out loud?

Hokuto: It is fine since there is no one other than me here, but you should be more careful. You need to mind the precise manner when using common places like here.

Aira: Yes, I will be more careful in the future...

Hokuto: Aside from that, what’s the matter? You are making a lot of funny faces by yourself just now.

Aira: Y-You saw that...!? No way, I am so embarrassed~!

Hokuto: No, it was quite interesting to see, I might refer to it in the future. Acting requires expressing a lot of complicated emotions after all.

Aira: B-but still, being stared at by Hidaka-senpai like that!

Hokuto: I forgot to greet you. Sorry about that. Moreover, you seem to be troubled by something?

Aira: Ah, you see, my math result is quite terrible, so I was given a lot of these homework papers. However, I don’t understand any question at all…

I was going to ask Hasumi-senpai to teach me in our ‘Keito Lecture’ activity, but unfortunately, it seems that he has a job today. I have to make it through by myself somehow. 

Hokuto: I see. Well, you normally have to balance between studying and idol work. The problem here seems to be that even when you have the time to do your homework, you often feel unmotivated with your study.

Aira: Urghgh, you got that right, I can’t retort…

Hokuto: By the way, how much did you score on the last test?

Aira: Uhm… I-I got three points.

Hokuto: Hmm, that is quite alarming. If you already stumble with schoolwork since the first year, all the practical questions will get more difficult when you move up to the next grades.

Aira: No way, if I can’t keep up with my study, how am I going to continue to work as an idol anymore!

Hokuto: I know. How about I will personally tutor you, Shiratori-kun?

Aira: H-Hidaka-senpai will?

Hokuto: Ah, I don’t have any subject I’m fundamentally bad at, and I am better at studying than most people. Moreover, helping a troubled junior is what a normal senior should do.

Aira: Really!? Thank you so much! Please help me with your guidance!

Hokuto: Alright, let us start swiftly. What questions do you not understand?

Aira: Erm, it is this question. ‘The little brother has left the house early and the big brother notices that he has forgotten something. How long will it take for the big brother to chase after him?’

Hokuto: Fumu… This is not a question for high school freshmen, rather this is a question you learned in middle school.

Aira: Ahaha… My grades are so bad that I guess I am being told to go back to the basics. I doubt that I can solve them later on…

Hokuto: I see. Then let’s start right away. The walking speed of the little brother is 80 meters per minute…

(Several minutes later)

Hokuto: ーAnd then, this will be your answer. Do you understand?

Aira: …I am sorry, I didn’t get any of it at all.

Hokuto: Why is it so? From what point did you not follow?

Aira: S-since the beginning.

Hokuto: What did you just say…

Aira: But how should I put it, this question doesn’t make any sense to me in the first place. I get confused because why there will be some kind of situation that makes the big brother run after his little brother to give him his stuff like this?

Hokuto: Hmm. If that is so, how about you replace these brothers with someone you are familiar with?

Aira: I see! Is there anyone who can fit in this situation? If any brothers I am familiar with… Maybe Hiro-kun and Rinne-senpai?

Hokuto: Certainly they do fit in the situation of delivering the forgotten item, but the big brother might end up stopping by a pachinko lot midway. In the end, he might not be able to meet up with the little brother.

Even if we change to let the little brother come after him, underage can’t go inside the lot anyway.

Aira: Ahaha, I get the point. Then how about the Sakuma brothers?

Hokuto: In those brothers’ case, if the big brother is chasing after the little brother, then the little brother will never let the big brother meet up with him.

Aira: I can totally see that! Every pair of brothers we know is super wacky ♪ None of them might gotta match the question here though!

Hokuto: Then how about thinking of Shiratori-kun as the little brother being chased after?

Aira: I am the person who is being chased after? Uhm~ who will be the other one here?

Someone I’m familiar with and can notice when I forget my stuff… might be Tassun-senpai. Ah! But having my favorite idols come after me to give my thing back might be the best thing ever!

After all, we all live together under Seisoukan anyway ♪ Maybe after ‘Pretty 5’s activity, Tomoe-senpai is going to chase after me to give back my forgotten item~ Ufufufufu ♪

Hokuto: Hmm, Tomoe-senpai you say… For sure, he will notice that you have forgotten your thing, but he might not be the one to directly pursue you. Maybe he will make Sazanami run after you in his place, or call a taxi and have them drive him back to Seisoukan.

Either way, instead of chasing after you, he might arrive at the dorm before you do.

Aira: I’m totally fine with that, especially when Tomoe-senpai is waiting for me at the dorm, right? If that really happens, I would want to forget my stuff every day ♪

Hokuto: I see. You can think about it in that way. Then what if I’m the person who forgets their thing, who will be the one delivering it?

Aira: Hidaka-senpai and Akehoshi-senpai often are together, right? How about Akehoshi-senpai?

Hokuto: Instead of myself being on the receiving end, I think he will be the one who forgets his stuff and needs me to deliver it for him.

Aira: Then how about in this question’s case? If you put it in context, Hidaka-senpai and Akehoshi-senpai might fit perfectly ♪

Hokuto: Hmm? I don’t think so. If anything, this question isn’t really about us…

Aira: Ahaha ♪ Maybe you are right about it!

Hokuto: Actually on our last day off, I was together with Akehoshi in Seisoukan, and weー

Location: Yumenosaki Staff Room

(The next day)

Akiomi: My goodness, why you didn’t finish your homework?

Aira: I’m sorry! You see, there were a lot of things happening… Ehehe ♪

Akiomi: What are you laughing about!

Aira: M-my apologies!

Akiomi: Whatever your reason might be, missing your deadline is a no-good thing, both in your normal idol activity and in your own regular life! Do you hear me, in the first place, your math test result is…

Aira: (Urgh~ Today’s lecture will be hella long as well…)

(In the end, I couldn’t finish any of my homework, but I am super happy that I got Hidaka-senpai to tutor me ♪ Hidaka-senpai actually has a lot of funny particulars about him.)

(I only knew Hidaka-senpai’s idol side before, but when I tried to talk to him, he was a more interesting person than I had expected ♪)

(Next time if I have another homework assignment, I want Hidaka-senpai to tutor me again~)

[The end ☆]

[the-goddess-of-mischief-writing]

Pub Crawl {3}

Oneshot Summary; Your mum warned you of getting into strangers’ cars, but John isn’t a stranger anymore, especially not when he remains with you as evening turns to night.

Pairing: John Price x reader

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Chapter 3/3

Word; 12k

Warnings; smut (MDNI, 18+), oral (f-receiving), dirty talking fingering, d/s themes, implied age-gap

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing​

A/N: The last part of this mini-series is here! I’m debating on whether to make this pairing a little universe, let me know if it’s something you guys are interested in xx

MAIN MASTERLIST

The pub lay on a one-way avenue, a strip of parking slots separating the sidewalk from a low-speed street. The main road you now rolled down sported twin lanes, opposite traffic and wide sidewalks on either side as if desiring to lure people from taking the car. Yet, there weren’t many driving at this time. 

Your eyes caught more pedestrians strolling down the sidewalk than cars. Some in groups, others in pairs, but everyone with the same desire to not waste one of the few perfect summer nights. Neve knowing when one would return.

Although your head shifted closer to the window as John steered the car into a different lane, your eyes flittered to watch him.

One hand retreats from the gear shift, settling on his jeans-clad thigh. ’Course I drive a manual; don’t find any smart cars in the army’, John said when you commented on the non-automotive choice earlier. 

His fingers tap in tune with the low beat playing from the speakers by whatever late-night station. Meanwhile, his right-hand grips the wheel at two o’clock, elbow resting on the window sill, relaxed as he navigates the near-empty streets.

He must feel your eyes on him because John’s gaze falls from the road to momentarily glance back at you. His brows lift slightly as those blues lock with yours, offering a smile before his attention retracts to the road. You follow the journey of his eyes as you near an intersection.

"Left up here”, you nod forwards, only earning a hum from John as he shifts before slowing down at the traffic light that's gone from green to yellow only to change to red long enough for the car to roll and not come to a complete stop before reversing its colour scheme. Late-night traffic lights never make sense.

”Know, love”, he replies whilst his left hand joins his right on the steering wheel to make the turn, straightening the car by letting the wheel naturally spin into place by easing his grip.

”You do now?” You believe him, as you’d forgotten to give him the heads up a few minutes ago, and he’s still shifted into the correct lane. Still, you tease him, giving him an amused glance he probably doesn’t notice, but your voice must be enough as he chuckles.

"Considerin' I know the city as the back of my hand, knew since you told me the street”. You angle yourself slightly more towards him.

”Sight-seeing your hobby aside from visiting Marissa when home?”

”Mhm, not all too shabby second choice for clearin' the head”.

”Wouldn’t call driving in a city anything near clearing the head, more so blood-pressure raising”, you scoff, John huffing in amusement.

”Not a bad way to be amongst folk without their presence”. He gives you a swift glance, instantly locking his gaze with yours as your eyes already were focused upon him.

Your head cocks, naturally resting more against the headrest. ”What do you mean?”

He looks back to the road.

”Bein' deployed ain’t the most challengin' part of our job; most times, comin' home is”. Your brows furrow as he continues. ”Sometimes it’s… not easy accommodatin' to civilian life. Outright horrid to be alone sometimes and at others-”, he let out a humourless laugh. ”-can’t really say crowds settle your nerves either”.

”I…”, you trail off, lips pursing.

Something in your chest twinged at John’s words. You want to say something, but… you fear you’ll misstep. He talks casually about it. But something in the way his gaze momentarily locked on the road with a faraway look in his eyes and his body seemingly pressing into the seat made you think some muscle memory kicked in for just a few seconds, implying it isn’t as uncomplicated as he wants it to seem.

Your swift cut-off and redirection of attention apparently earned John’s attention, as his hand suddenly settling on your knee pulls you out of staring at the road.

Your eyes flicker to find his eyes shifted back to you. ”If you got questions, ask ’em, and I’ll just say if I need to get to know you more before answerin' them”. He winked to lighten either his comment or the air your hesitation had created. And it worked. Your head dips, a chuckle leaving you and letting out the air trapped in your lungs, as John looks ahead once more, a smile forming on his lips as his hand retreats to the gear shift.

”Aside from your scenic drives, how do you spend your days after coming home?”

He hums, tapping the wheel twice before he speaks. ”Have a property outside of town, it was rickety when I got it, but I’ve been refurbishing the place in-between deployments. Still some bits to do, but it keeps me occupied”. He shrugs.

”So a handyman as well. Anything you can’t do?”

”Not too confident in my decoration abilities, but I can pick a comfortable armchair, and not much more is needed to sit down with a book and glass of scotch”. You smile at the image as it checks with the picture he's painted of himself during the evening.

Despite the old-fashioned sense of John, it felt refreshing compared to what the standard was today. And you find yourself sinking a bit further into your seat as if the image of him in an armchair, with book and scotch in hand, wasn't just a picture he painted for you but one you observed from a matching seat opposite him.

”So you’re able to relax then?”

”Have learned to unwind, can’t always be on your toes”.

”Hasn’t always been in your blood then?”

John chuckles, sparing you a soft glance. ”No, definitely not, but it ain’t healthy to keep so much excessive adrenaline lingerin' despite gettin' away from the battlegrounds”.

”Can’t imagine what it's like”, you breathe out, head rolling towards the window, watching the scenery for just a few seconds before your eyes fell back to John. ”The shifts back and forth”.

”Ain’t for everyone, that’s for sure, can’t even say that you get used to it”.

You suck your lower lip, nodding. ”What’s the worst, with coming back, that is?”

”Isolation. When you're on the field, your mindset changes; you don't think about anythin' else. And at the base, there are always people around, so it ain’t as easy fleein' the presence of others and gettin' stuck in your head there. But, away from all of those things... it changes”.

”That’s why you and the others go out?”

He nods. ”We try. It’s a shot at shifting routines when returnin’”.

”So, does that mean you came back recently, then?” You peek curiously at him.

”Mhm, touched down on base three days ago. The lads had some stuff to get out of the way first”.

”And you, I presume?”

He gave you an amused look. ”Still got things to finish up, love”.

”I guess that comes with being Captain”. You shrug, and he chuckles.

”Remind me to never accept a higher rank; paperwork will be what puts me on my deathbed." You can’t help the unfiltered laugh that escapes nor how it fades into a sigh as you silently watch John as he drives for a few beats with a smile.

”So the others are returning to base for what reason?”

”Eh, the lads got some trainin', but neither MacTavish have any planned disappearances to Scotland nor has Kyle planned to visit his Ma down south, so they’ll probably remain there until they fill their schedules”.

”And will you hang around there as well?”

John took a deep breath, his chest puffing out slightly before answering. ”Most likely. I may visit the property some days, but if I'm couped up there, I would need to resort to those drives”.

You made a small ah sound, understanding his choice of activities better now and yet you can’t but wonder if he genuinely doesn’t use those drives to meet someone. Despite what Marissa and Johnny implied, your thoughts wouldn’t rest until you hear it from him. Not wanting to face the embarrassment of having misinterpreted the evening.

”And you, John, ain’t no-one missing your presence aside from that property of yours?”

He pulls his eyes from the road, a second of silence following your heavily implied question. ”None but my superiors, and even they push me off base on leaves”. 

You could sigh out of relief when he finally answered. You even feel a giddy smile tug on your lips. But you school your expression, offering John a nod instead. One he must've caught through the edge of his vision as he faced forwards not long after speaking.

As your fingers play with the strap of your purse, you finally reply, ”Well, thank them next time you see them. Otherwise, I probably wouldn’t have met you along with the others tonight”. Despite being honest, you feel a warmth enter your chest as you say the words. And you feel even more bashful when John gives you a swift sideway glance accompanied by one of those smiles that makes his eyes seemingly shine.

”Already planned to, love”. John's smile is noticeable despite being mostly hidden by his beard.

You avert your eyes first despite him being the one who drives, and that’s when you notice John’s pulled into the familiar road to your apartment, only sealing that the night you’d spent with him neared its end.

Although the silence is comfortable, you dry-swallow when he parks in one of the visitor spots outside your building.

”Your stop”, John says, tearing your eyes from the apartment's entrance as he shifts his body to rest his elbow on the middle console, the other hand still on the wheel.

The streetlight shining through the front windshield highlights his face, those pretty blues sparkling. The longer you’d spent in his company, the more you desired to remain in it. And, it was precisely that feeling making you stall and not simply thank him for the drive home and jump out after unbuckling your belt.

Your eyes flicker over his face, lips parting only to close again when you can't find anything to say that would prolong the moment.

John's eyes crinkled in the corners, a soft smile quirking his lips. ”Somethin’ on your mind, love?”

Of course, he knew there was. He didn't need your dragged-out goodbye to know.

It felt like he'd paid just as much attention to you as you'd done to him during the evening, or it wouldn’t feel as if you and he been introduced for the first time tonight. Otherwise, he wouldn't assume your mind ran rampant, suspecting that you were debating whether if you should stop chewing and just spit out the words that hopefully would earn you his number. Though that’s precisely what you did, you hesitated for one reason. It didn't feel enough, or else you would've let him be on his way already, content that you'd be able to speak with him again with his numb rib your phone. But you didn't want the night to end.

"Want to make me company?" You bite your tongue the second the question leave you. 

Whatever surge of courage made you voice your thoughts disappeared upon his reaction. John's brows swiftly raise, clearly showing whatever he thought was on your mind, then this wouldn't have been his first guess.

"What now?" You tear your eyes from him, gaze trailing upwards to your dark living room window facing the road. A deep inhale precedes your tongue coming out to wet you lips, catching the flesh between your teeth. Fuck it.

"You heard me". 

John's blue eyes flicker down to your lips when you turn to him and release your lower lip. His attention remains there, causing your mouth to open and close, wanting to fill the thickening silence but unable to. The action makes his eyes ascend to yours.

He remains silent, but something has entered those blues when his gaze locks with yours.

"John?" The gentle question his name conveys triggers something.

He averts his gaze, eyelids fluttering close as he slumps back in his seat. Both hands now grips the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. With his head pressed against the headrest, his neck cranes, and he faces the roof. Something is mumbled beneath his breath, too low for you to pick up. And then, he jolts into action, swiftly ripping the key from the ignition, opens the car door and jumps out, closing it with a slam behind him.

You watch him with wide eyes as he hurries around the front of the car, half a thought if you misinterpreted the whole evening entering your mind. Just because he doesn’t have anyone waiting for him at home doesn’t mean he’s interested in you, even if he would give you whiplash from how he’d acted.

When John opens your door, the apology is on your tongue until his actions completely erase the words.

His hands settle on your legs, pulling them toward him so you are on the verge of slipping down from your seat and into his broad chest.

"Wanna use those big words now as well, eh?" Your heart beats at the base of your throat as John stares at you. Incapable of saying anything as your chest heaves on your inhale as his reaction isn't what you'd anticipated. "Use your words, love. Need to know you meant it".

You swallow. ”I want you to follow me up to my apartment, John”, you repeat. A full-body shiver rolls through his body, a curse leaving him as he takes a sharp breath.

”I’d planned to ask you out, take you to some pleasant little restaurant or somethin’. But then you turned out to be much less sweet than I ever could’ve thought, invitin' me up to your place at this time”.

John didn't admonish you, but you don't know whether his words were meant to make you smile, either. But you couldn't help the quirk of your lips, not when you realised the turmoil in his eyes was brought forth by you pushing the restraints of his gentlemanly fashion.

That desperate slip in his stoic nature rouses something. Something that had been dormant beneath your fluttering heart and near shyness beneath his gaze when in solely his composed and assured company during the night.

"Still think I'm pretty sweet." You muse with a tilt of your head. John's eyes narrow, catching the playfulness suddenly coating your sentence. He shifts on his feet. Fingers tapping against your lower thigh as his chin raises.

"That so?" John seemingly decides to entertain your game.

"Mhm", you nearly giggle as his defined eyebrows rose, silently commanding you to state why. As you lean forwards slightly, your upper body now more outside than in the car, his hand grips your legs to steady you. "Any man would think me sweet with a pretty dress like this".

"Would they now?"

"Don't you think I look sweet, John, be honest with me now?" His head cocks, eyes travelling over your body at the invitation.

As John's gaze drops, his hands gradually slide up your legs to your waist. You follow the action, your gaze only flickering to meet his when his big paws splay over your sides, thumbs resting over your hip-bones.

God, you didn't regret asking him to stay a bit longer with you, but it wasn't boldness that flowed with the heated rush in your chest as your gazes locked.

You swallow, lips parting as if challenging to draw in a proper breath with how you shrink in his overwhelming presence.

"You may be sweet-lookin' in this dress. But you've shown how your mind is too sharp to be shielded, and I know brilliant minds never are entirely sweet". John's lip curls into a smirk, something devious gleaming in his eyes. It ain't boyish but teases you of the playfulness the man you'd gotten to know preserves behind his front. "Indulge me, love, if knowin' that every man thinks of you as stunnin', what does it say of a man such as me acceptin' your offer?"

You look at him through your lashes, this time unable to honey your words, causing the teasing tone to dissipate and bleed into sincerity. "I've had fun tonight, meeting the others and especially you… I would think no different of you, John, especially when ending the night differently would possibly also mean you'll have to drive back to base alone”.  

There was such weight to your words that John’s eyes close, his shoulders falling.

Your eyes flicker over the features of his bowed head, his lips a neutrally set, the lines between his brows fading as his lashes rest against his under-eyes until you're met by those blues looking back at you when his eyelids flutter open. He steps closer, head barely tilting upwards to look at you.

”That’s so?” He receives a nod as an answer, words unable to form beneath his heavy gaze. John's eyes flicker between yours, seemingly searching for something in them before he speaks. ”Is it out of pity? You don’t want an ol'man like me alone at night?” This time, you sought contact, your hands finding his on your waist, testing the waters by slowly running them up his arms.

His muscles jump beneath your fingers as you trail them upwards until they encircle his neck.

”John…”, you sigh. ”You’re not old; you’re a handsome man, charming-”

”Charmin', eh?” He cocks a brow, and you give him a teasing glare.

”As charming as you military men come without being jerks”, you returned. He huffs with a shake of his head, an upwards tick curving his lip. "I'm trying to say that I can't remember when I've enjoyed spending time with someone other than Marissa this much."

"And so you offer me to stay with you?" The incredulous statement isn't explicit. Still, the tilt of his head to the building at his back insinuates enough.

"Oh, piss off", you defend yourself, the corner of his eyes creasing as he chuckles. ”I was about to say that anyone would be lucky to have you come home to them, but you destroyed that moment”. 

John tips his head, dipping closer. ”You offerin' something, love?”

"Already did". The reply is quick, but John doesn't tease you. Instead, he raises his brows in a 'fair' gesture.

"Should we head up then?"

"Yes". You split into a grin, the expression mirrored on John's face before he surprises you when taking a firmer hold of your waist and heaving you down from the seat.

He set you down close to him, his neck bowing to look down at you for a second before he reaches around you, closing the door with less velocity than he’d done his own, swiftly locking the car afterwards. Then, as his attention retracts to you, he steps away, only to offer you his hand in the space he'd created.

This man. You wonder if you'll ever not be able to smile at him as you card your fingers through his.

...

You don't live in a skyscraper, but the stairs to your apartment seemingly never end. Thankfully, John is in better shape than you could ever get in, so you don't need to tug him after you. Still, you glance over your shoulder occasionally, each time you're met by those bright blues and his gentle smile, a reciprocated squeeze of your interlocked fingers.

When you're more than halfway, in one of those moments when you lock eyes with him over your shoulder, you realise your situation with the ridiculously handsome man. And if anything, it makes a silly smile spread on your lips.

"Regrettin' your choice?" John knows his guess is wrong. If not by the casual why he asks, then the shake of your head as you state your thoughts.

"It's astonishing how no one has claimed you as theirs, you know. You look too good to be in practically any setting". His step falters, bringing you to a complete stop two steps ahead. When you turn, you find him watching you intensely.

”Attemptin' to sweet talk me?" He smiles, brows quirking as he take a step so only one fleet of stairs separates you.

"Think I've already succeeded if you're here with me". You give John a one-shouldered shrug, to which he huffs in amusement. As his head dips, you sway on your feet. Should I…you swallow, wetting your lips, battling down the quiver entering your body as you step down so nothing separates you and lean close. "But I would do all the sweet talking necessary to help you relax, want to help you unwind, want to now”, you whispered against the shell of his ear.

Two things happened in quick succession. First, a low sound vibrates from his chest. Then, a slap to your ass.

You yelp, the hand not in his tightened grip shooting up in a too-late attempt to stifle the sound escaping you but only succeeding in smashing your purse against your chest.

Wide eyes stare up at him when you fall back to your feet. ”John Price!” You exclaim in a hushed voice muffled by the hand remaining in front of your mouth, fearing any of your neighbours catching the name following the not-so-smooth action.

”Should be careful with your words, love, can't expect a man to behave when you say things like that”, he chides, gently pushing your tangled hands against your stomach, signalling you to resume the journey to your apartment, with a new, darker, look in his eyes.

"We're there soon, and hopefully, you can behave until then". You reply, continuing to step up the stairs at John's wish.

"Depends". You feel him shrug.

"On what?"

"How much you're willing to push your luck."

A flush rush through you, and you withstand ducking to escape his heavy gaze pinned on the back of your head. Like a red sniper shot searing its aim into the base of your skull. But as you mount the steps, a quivering excitement settles in your marrow. Even though John can't see it, you hide the smile it unfurls on your lips by rolling them inwards.

When you finally reach your floor, you let go of John's hand to fish out the key from your purse. Despite the loss of contact, you can feel his tall frame at your back regarding how he steps closer when you come to a halt.

Despite it being your imagination or his breath you actually feel against your neck, you stutter in unlocking the door to your apartment. That’s why a relieved sigh unintentionally leaves you when you only need to juggle the lock once before entering your home.

"Pretty place". John's words were soft as you sense his head poking around yours to get a better glimpse into the apartment, following you into the foyer briefly afterwards.

There was no frenetic fumble towards each other. No teenage-like desperation. Instead, you hum at John's comment, glancing over your shoulder as you let muscle-memory help you discard your purse on the side-table only decorated with a bowl where you drop your keys.

"A city apartment can't be pretty. Functional, I'll give you, but not pretty". You smile when you hear him close the door behind him and turn the lock. "Your place, on the other hand, with something besides concrete and fake wooden floorboards, I reckon is a sight for sore city-eyes". You turn to face him, catching the shake of his shoulder at your dramatics.

"At this day and age, it's as functional as four walls and a bed comes", John says amusedly, swinging his body into slowly stepping towards you, moving so naturally in the space of your home. "So, in that regard, your place is more homely".

You huff, smile still present as you turn your face upwards. "I remain firm in my belief into proven otherwise". John cock his head, the side of his lips twitching upwards.

"Fishin' for an invite?"

"Would you grant me one?" He steps up close now, hands naturally seeking your hips from the close proximity. His hands radiate a comfortable warmth through your dress. You reciprocate his move by curling your arms around his neck.

He tips his head back and forth, making a show of contemplating your question. "Show up in a pretty dress once again, and I won't be able to say no to you".

"Sounds like a date", you muse.

"Must make it up to you somehow". John hums low and gravelly as one of his arms circles your waist and pulls you into his front.

Your legs suddenly felt weak, and at the moment, his hold stabilises you more than your heels. Coupled with those intense blues gazing at you, it was good, as you felt like melting against him.

"How so?" The smile John flashes may have been spurred by how you leant more of your weight against him as the breathy words left you. Or, it was the way you naturally tilt your head, lips seeking his even though he lingers just out of reach.

"From how I barely can think about anythin' else than what's underneath this pretty fabric at the moment".

"What says it won't end the same way?" That finally broke the tension.

John presses his fingers into the white textile at the meat of your hip, his head dipping towards you with a tilt, eyes simultaneously slipping close. You sigh when his lips finally meet yours.

The kiss was a slowly repeated slant and press of lips. A gradual desire that had built from the moment you two were introduced and acted upon for the first time.

But, you felt how John's control was just a slip away as his hand at your hip travelled up to your neck, a swift flex of his fingers inclining he wanted to bring you closer. You breathe your amusement through your nose, a gentleman through and through.

Deciding you want to push him past the gentleman he thought he needed to be, you let your hands slip down his chest until your fingers curl through his belt loops. Then, with a tug on his jeans and a lick of your tongue, you deepen the kiss, knowing his restraint snaps when a groan leaves him.

Your tongues slip against one another before John dirtily sucks your pink muscle. Something short-circuits in your head. A whine from far back in your throat leaves you. At the sound, John lets his teeth graze your lower lip in a light nibble before he pulls away. The both of you drawing in shaky breaths of air.

”Bloody hell, love”, he exhales, causing your eyes to open. You just catch his head dropping, shielding his eyes from yours for a moment before they return. You smile, fingers unfurling from his belt loops and spreading on his lower abdomen, the taut muscle flexing beneath, apparent even through his shirt.

He drops his body to you, seeking more of your touch. But, concerning no wall props you up, you stumble backwards slightly as his gait sets off your balance and makes your heels wobble.

John catches himself with a shuffle forward of his right foot. He chuckles against your lips, an unspoken recognition of his larger frame a incompatible combination with your heels.

"Whatcha' sayin', should we get you out of these?" He mumbles. Then, before you manage to comprehend his comment, let alone answer, John kneels down.

He raises one of your feet onto his thigh, making your hand reach to stabilise yourself on the table at your side.

You watch as he pulls on the textile ribbon wrapped around your ankle. It slips from your leg, and he eases the shoe off your foot, settling it beside him while letting your bare foot rest against the ground.

A pleased groan leaves you, finally able to rest your whole weight on your sole rather than just the front.

"That good?" You don't know when your eyes slipped close. But they open upon John's voice.

You glance down at him as he gently grips your other ankle, waiting for you to shift your weight to mimic his previous motion. "You couldn't imagine".

He shakes his head, yet a smile is evident through the bunched-up parts of his beard as he unties your other shoe.

You're about to answer him when the second shoe slips off your foot, but your lips remain parted without a sound leaving you when you watch John lean in and kiss your ankle. His beard tickles as it grazes against your skin when pressing another kiss to your calf and kneecap.

But he doesn't stand up when dropping your leg.

With wide eyes, you watch as John brushes his lips over the soft skin above your knee, leaving yet another tender kiss. 

A stuttering breath leaves you as you wordlessly follow his journey upwards as he disappears beneath your skirt.

John's head moves beneath the fabric. His puckered mouth leaving featherlight presses against the soft meat of your thighs.

The hand previously gripping the material of your skirt fumbles backwards to steady yourself against the wall half a meter behind your back, supporting the grip you already keep on the side-table.

You feel him nudge between your legs, his beard scratching the inside of your thighs. Without asking, you widen your stance. John's heated breath immediately flans against your inner thighs and upwards to your steadily heating and throbbing cunt as a groan immediately follows your action.

"These the only things you've gotten on all the time?" You think you answer him because the next thing you feel is his lips kissing your mound through your panties.

Your breath catches, soft sounds following the action as John switches between pressing kisses to your thighs and where you need him the most. The muscles in your neck go lax, head dropping back as a sharp last peck is placed on the fabric covering your clit before he retreats.

Head tipping forwards, you find John looking up at you, his hair ruffled and out of place, a lopsided grin curling his lips. You can’t help but stare down at him, attempting to stabilise your breath as your chest heaves. Fucking hell, he’s handsome and on his knees for you.  

"Looks so sweet lookin' at me like that". John rubs his hands on your thighs, and you can’t help but groan.

”Swear you’re trying to kill me”. He chuckles, rising to his feet, now even taller without the added inches beneath your feet.

"Only fair".

"Fair would be if you ended what you started", you huff at him, the heat he'd set off in your body only growing with the throb between your legs.

He squints with a slight tick of his head. "Careful with your wishes".

"What, the Captain too scared to finish a mission?" Something flashes in his eyes, the blues darkening considerably. Then, his strong arms encircle your body, hands resting beneath your ass, swiftly hauling you upwards as if weighing nothing.

You gasp, arms instinctively shooting around his neck and hooking your legs around his waist as your hips connect with his, a semi-bulge pressing into your core.

"Don't go make assumptions, love". His voice is a delicious drawl, even deeper than his natural husk. A shudder runs down your spine as he grabs fistfuls of your ass, pressing you closer to him. "I'll plan to finish what I started, but I'll take my sweet time with you and ain't gonna do that in the hallway", he states with finality.

You giggle, leaning in so your lips brush his as you speak. "Bedrooms straight ahead and on the right". A low sound escapes John, muted by the press of his lips against yours as he toes off his shoes before making you giggle as he carries you to your bedroom.

The door was already ajar, so you didn't need to fumble it open. Hence, John was at the side of your bed with a few strides.

He knelt sideways to drop you in the middle, making you bounce slightly. A smile stretches your lips when John climbs onto the bed and between your legs that widen to make room for him.

He keeps himself above you, silent as his eyes flicker over your form beneath him.

”You sure you want this?” He asks, looking into your eyes. ”You sure you want me? An old captain in the military?” Your hands rise, resting on his bearded cheeks, taking a second to linger on the fact that this man possibly had doubts about you wanting him. 

John's eyes flutter when your fingers comb through his well-groomed and incredibly soft beard. But he forces them to stay open, watching you, waiting for your answer.

”Yes, I am”. You suck your lower lip into your mouth, and John groans, shifting more weight to his legs as one hand beside yours raises and pulls it from your mouth.

”Don’t do that”, his voice has dipped, huskier. Yet the only thing you do is smile.

”Do you want me, John?” His eyes flicker up from your lips.

”How could I fuckin’ not? Look at you, that smile, pretty eyes”. His hands travel to the hinge of your jaw, your arm on the same side falling to his ribcage.

”Thinking the same thing about you. Didn’t call you handsome for no reason”. It feels soppy when the words fall from your lips, but you notice something in his body melting away as he lowers himself, moulding his lips against yours.

A soft groan vibrates against your mouth when your hand travels to the back of his neck, nails grazing his hairline.

It's fucking heavenly to kiss him. The feeling of only wanting more, more of him against you bubbling to the surface. And John must feel it as his hand slither to your nape, deepening the kiss with his fingers threading through the hair nearest your skull.

His dominance along his big frame surrounding you as he presses closer, makes you melt beneath him.

John detaches from your lips with a pant, only to rove down your jawline and downwards. His beard tickles, the bristles scraping against the delicate skin of your throat as his hand journeys from your neck and down your throat.

He brushes over your collarbones with his thumb before settling on the slope of your shoulder, playing with the straps of your dress. With a soft tug, the bands loosen. ”Gonna help an old man?” John mumbles against the column of your neck.

”Hm, almost like seeing you struggle”, you hum with a smile, tipping your chin downwards, signalling you want a kiss.

”Menace”. You feel John's smile against your lips as he lingers a peck while loosening the second strap over your opposite shoulder. You giggle as he pulls away, settling on his haunches to give you space to rise up.

You follow him, sitting up so he's positioned in-between your legs. It's the perfect position for your hands to land on his thighs, stroking the muscles you know are hidden beneath his jeans.

”The zipper is at the back”, you tell him, not shying away as he leans forwards, towering over you.

Expert fingers latch onto the small piece of metal you’d given him directions to. Cerulean eyes lock with yours as his chin dips to rest against his chest, lips centimetres apart, breaths mingling. John doesn’t point it out, but a quick flicker of his eyes tells you he notes the goosebumps the short nail of his thumb creates as it grazes along your spine.

”A piece for a piece?” Your fingers play with the hem of John’s shirt as his palm rest against your now naked spine, the fabric of the dress having parted as it barely was kept up by itself. Your elbows, pressing against your sides, are the only thing still pinning the fabric against your body.

”Bargainin' with me now?” Your teeth catch your lower lip, eyes falling, roaming over his torso, imagining what's underneath.

The white shirt only enhances his chest and muscled torso as he takes deep breaths.

Gaze trailing upwards, you see his eyes stuck at your mouth. A slight groan leaves him from how you’ve caught your lips between your teeth, something you slowly have gathered his obsession for.

With a smile pulling the flesh from your teeth, you straighten your back somewhat, getting closer to him, earning his attention from whatever thoughts he momentarily entertained.

”Concerning you’ve already seen the only other piece I’m wearing, I’d say it’s fair”.

The corner of his eyes creases with his smile. You knew he was about to say something from how his lips had parted, but his action curtly halts as realisation bled into his eyes.

John's gaze drops as something dark enters it. He let his eyes rove over your body, cursing, rushed and heated as he barely gave you enough time to lean away before grabbing the back of his shirt and yanking it over his head.

”Fuck”. The curse is breathed from you as you stare at John's bare upper body. 

You’d called it from the start. He was muscular, but fucking hell, he felt even broader up close, torso on full display for you to indulge in.

As if possessing a will of their own, your hands trail upwards. You prevent a moan from escaping as your thumbs brush the delicious happy trail on John’s abdomen. Though your eyes follow it downwards while your hands continue up, the fine line of hair disappears beneath his waistband, lower than your eyes could follow. Defeated, your gaze trails upwards, catching up with your hands as they travel over the outlines of his abs and his pecs covered in a similar dark dust of hair.

”Feelin’ me up?” Without any shame, you delay the shift of attention from the sight in front of you to John’s eyes. Once you do, a darkened gaze, barely lightened by his cocky smirk, greets you.

”Can you blame me?”

”Only if you don’t keep your end of the deal”.

You notch your head backwards as the side of your lip tick upwards. ”What would you do if I didn’t?”

”Only fair I would enforce it, wouldn’t it now?” He questions, leaning closer, his hand settling on your waist.

”Wouldn’t mind that”, you reply as you stop pressing your elbows against your ribs.

Now John was the sole one keeping your dress up, giving him the choice of proceeding.

You note the slight flicker of John’s eyes downwards before jumping back, seeking eye contact. As if to check one last time for any hesitation from your side. When finding none, he bunches the fabric of your skirt around your waist and pulls the dress over your head in a sweep of the layered textile.

You lay down in your now mostly naked form, panties the last article covering your body. Blue eyes, heated with intensity, follow your movements.

A warm wave rush over you at John’s attention. Your skin prickles, body vibrates as you practically feel his eyes trail up and down your body.

”So bloody gorgeous”. It’s a rumble when John’s eyes finally meet yours, iris blackened considerably by his dilated pupils. His hands settle on your hips, near boiling palms pressing into your flesh in repeated up and down movements and occasional squeezes.

You prop yourself up by one elbow, the other raising up to grab his neck and bring him into a kiss, one he readily accepts.

One hand falls from your hip to beside your body, supporting him as his body bends forward at the waist. As you part, you’re met by John’s lustful gaze, though it’s swift as he starts trailing kisses down the column of your neck, down to the swell of your breasts. He spares little time on kissing around them before he sucks your nipple into his mouth. His action pulls a soft sound from your lungs.

His fingers travel down from their place on your side to your pussy, fingers pressing into your heat. That's when you realise how wet you were. ”S’all for me?” He drawl with a low groan as he switches to your other breast, paying as close attention to your nipple as earlier.

”Y-yeah”, you breathe as he starts circling your clit through the fabric, thighs flexing, hips jumping toward this touch. As he lets his canine lightly toy with your nipple, he slips his fingers lower, pressing against your hole through the fabric, making you clench around nothing. ”Fuck, yes, all for you”.

You squirm as he rises from your breast, the air around you cooling your nipples wetted by his mouth, only pebbling them further. His eyes drift down your body to where he’s playing with you,

”S'pretty for me”, he mutters, moving down your body as his other hand drags along your side until it hooks beneath the fabric obscuring his view of your dripping core.

A sound conveying your protest leaves you when his other hand stops its administration, but it ebbs down as you watch John pull your panties down your leg.

You help him by lifting your legs slightly, paying no more attention to the white lace he finally frees from your legs and tosses to the side the moment his hands settle on your legs, parting them. 

Your eyes flicker over him as he sits back on his heels, a rumble vibrating from his chest as he admires the sight before him. You feel you’re wet enough that slick covers the apex of your thighs.

”Such a pretty cunt, eh?” You heat at his words and attention when his eyes flicker to you. ”Bet you taste fuckin' heavenly. You gonna let me eat this cunt?”.

You let out a stuttered breath as you follow John lying down between your legs. A smack of his palm against the meat of your thigh brings you out of the daze, blinking and refocusing on how he stares right back at you with a cocked head, beard tickling your inner thighs. 

”Come on, love, need to hear it from you”. His breath fans across your warmth, making you shudder. John notices, blowing pointedly on your heat, watching how you writhe in anticipation,

”Yes, yes, John”. His satisfied smile is the last thing you see before he closes the distance between his lips and your pussy.

When his mouth lands on your wetness for the first time, your head snaps back, and a shaky exhale leaves you. He licks a broad stripe up your heat. Instinctually, your hips roll to push his tongue further into your wetness.

Although not giving in, John flexes his muscle, pointedly flicking your clit, causing you to whine. It’s then you realise he knows what he's doing. Everything he did, from how your mind never strays from following the pattern his tongue draws to how he quickly has you writhing beneath him, speaks of his experience.

”Ah... fuck”, you moan as John presses his lips to your clit before drawing it into his mouth, the sensitive nerve-endings making your abdomen spasm, and your hand shoots down to clamp into his hair.

You tug John further into you, earning a pleased hum that travels through your body in return. But, when your hips buck, he locks an arm around your mid-drift to pin you to the bed.

”Gotta be still for me, love”. He parts from your wetness to mumble before diving in again. In response, he gets a keening sound. One that only increases as his tongue dips lower and presses into your wet hole.

He thrust his tongue into your quivering hole. Nose nudging your clit. You only become needier, attempting to buck against him but to no wail, his grip only tightening on your hips.

You physically feel how you become wetter, slick trickling to the slope of your arse. It fills the air with sloppy and wet sounds as Johhn switches to lap at you.

The noises, the loss of his tongue at your entrance, constricting around nothing, all produce a growing sensation of emptiness, a desire to feel full.

”John, I need more. Need your fingers”. You can feel his grin as he leans away, uncurling his hands from around your thigh that kept your spread open to trail along your wet folds.

”Such a good girl, eh? Beggin’ for what she wants”. You moan in response, feeling how your slick coats his fingers before he lodges his digit at your hole, slowly pushing in, stretching you for the first time.

”Yes”, you breathe out, his finger thicker and reaching further than your own ever could. Your hand falls from his hair, clutching the hand still around your hips, fingers worming themselves through his.

He pumps in and out of you, your wetness making the penetration easy. However, John doesn't continue long before he pulls his finger out. You protest, a noise ripped from your throat. Though it’s short-lived as you feel him trail not one but two digits up and down your wet and swollen pussy, both entering you when covered in what he deems is an adequate amount of your arousal.

A guttural moan leaves your parted lips. It’s a stretch, and you feel a slight burn even though John was gentler about thrusting two fingers in and letting you accustom to the feeling. He begins with only wiggling them gently inside before scissoring them when he feels you relax somewhat.

Although soon, his movement and the attention he gives your clit make the sensation fade, making you moan his name, letting him know he could continue and that’s when he starts pumping his fingers in and out of you.

You feel it somewhere in your body, how the tension slowly builds, nearing the edge from the continuous stimulus John drowns you in. Your head feels floaty, fibres vibrating, hands receiving a squeeze from him to ease how your curl your fingers into your skin.

”Ah, come on, love, you can do it, you can take it”, his mumble is distant, a gravelly sound that resonates through your ears and wrap warmly around your head. ”Come on, my good girl, you can take them”. 

At first, you think John’s encouragements are in the heat of the moment, mumbled nonsense edging you closer to the peak he must feel you neared from how you flutter around him. But when he continues, you realise it isn’t.

”Look at me”, your head is heavy as you crane it downwards to look at the man between your legs, his gaze already set on you. ”Look at you, s’good, takin’ all three”. Your eyes drop to where he’s pumping in and out of you. 

You need the visual of three of his finger entering to recognise how full you've come to feel, how he stretches you when having added a finger without you even noticing in your pleasure-ridden state.

Your mouth drops open, panted cries stuttering from you as you watch his fingers disappear, stretching you wide from their girth and reappearing slicker than previously. You feel how the muscles in your neck go slack. But rather than letting your head fall back onto the mattress, John's demanding voice stops you.

”Keep lookin’ at me, love. I want your eyes on me when you cum”. Your head bobs forward the slight amount it tilted back, reattaching with the heavy weight of his blues.

When he notes your attention won't stray, John keeps your gaze as he lowers himself, his mouth attaching to your clit once more. Fingers now stroking more than pumping inside you.

It feels downright fucking dirty to moan, not upward into the air, but forwards, so your breath travels down your stomach to fan against John’s face between your legs as your eyes lock. It makes your body buzz and head airy as your orgasm hurls closer.

You were close. So close. It becomes impossible to be still as the sensation in your stomach tightens, and the muscles in your abdomen spasm repeatedly. Your legs begin to shake. And then it just becomes too much. The flick of John's tongue, the push of his fingers as deep as they go, tickling that spongy spot at the roof of your walls.

You gape, time feeling like it stops for a few seconds as you go silent before jerking against John’s face, gushing into his mouth as your orgasm slams into you.

You can’t physically keep his gaze for more than a few seconds of your high as your back arches off the bed, eyes wrenching shut as your head slam back into the soft mattress.

As his sole free hand only lock your hips in place, your legs jerk upwards from the bed. Your thighs slot around John's head, knees bending so your feet brush against his back. He grunts, the vibrations along his fingers continuing the come-hither motion inside you while his tongue flicks your clit, only prolonging your high.

It’s intense. Never-ending. Your high seemingly continues for far too long for your body to know how to react. You wouldn't put it past yourself to estimate a similar time as John had when considering the last time anyone apart from yourself had made you cum. Still, it's hardly comparable as you writhe beneath him.

When your high finally ebbs, your muscles slacken so suddenly that your legs drop from their elevated position around John's head without much care. One of your knees falls to the side, and your leg falls to the mattress. The other dropped straight over John's shoulder, now resting on his back. In fact, your whole body goes limp as pants heave your chest.

That's when he finally also pulls his fingers from you. Although, he doesn't leave your puffy pussy without a final broad swipe of his tongue, lapping up your excessive arousal until a satisfied hum stems from him. In your over-sensitive state, the vibrations make you whine and twitch away from John's mouth.

A soft chuckle leaves him as his hand still intertwined with yours strokes your skin. The other settles at the hinge of your knee, leaving a slick spot from his fingers covered in your arousal, as he gently lifts it off his shoulder with a kiss to the apex of it, shy of too close to your pussy.

”Did so good for me”, John praises, planting another kiss at the middle of your thigh, then the inside of your knee on the same leg where his palm rubs assuringly as he moves down on the bed.

A lazy smile spreads on your face as one arm hooks over your face, the summer night apparently still too bright in your keyed-up state as it illuminates your room through your window, only covered by a thin curtain.

The loss of John’s touch as his hand slips from yours and how you feel him still shuffling ultimately pulls your arm away.

Despite sinking further into your bed due to the body-melting feeling of your orgasm, you watch John as he backs off the bed and onto the floor. 

Standing at the edge, he raises one of his hands to his beard, pulling his hand over the slick shining strands. Your heart jumps at the display and you feel the sluggishness in your limbs withering away with the steady rise of desire once again.

”John”. Your voice is a drawl, bordering on a gentle whine, as you call for his touch, for him to join you again. He cracks a smile at your voice, or display. You don’t know

”Patience, love”, he chuckles, unbuckling his belt.

The sound works as a spell. Your eyes immediately drop, watching him unzip his pants. His prominent bulge gets glaringly more apparent as he drops his jeans and steps out of them. He palms himself over his navy trunks, making you squirm as his head tilts back and he groans in relief.

Your pulse beats rapidly against your throat as you watch the show he puts on, testing your patience that’s swiftly thinning as your eyes are glued to him.

A soft breath leaves you, a whine following. It makes John's legs flex and hip jut forward against his palm. That's what breaks you.

”Don’t tease”. You sound broken even to yourself, but you feel just as desperate.

You’re just about to shuffle into a seated position and towards the edge of the bed, closer to the man before you. But his eyes land on you before you get any further than rising to your elbows. They're dark, unbudging, authoritative and without even voicing his thoughts, John’s demand is silent but obvious. 

Stay put.

You could thrash your head from how devastatingly much he makes you feel. How good he makes you feel. Instead, your hands only dig into your rucked-up sheets, fisting the material. Your nails press through the fabric and into your palms. Thankfully being propped by your elbows stops you from falling backwards when a low-spoken ‘good girl’ is breathed beneath his breath upon your pliancy.

Your jaws press together tightly. Gaze set firmly and unbudgingly upon John as he hooks his thumbs beneath the waistband of the single piece of clothing left on his body. As his briefs slip off, his cocks bob upwards toward his stomach.

He was big, not ridiculously so that you fear taking him, but he was above average and thick. Understand the prep better now. But it felt like it wouldn’t have mattered because at the sight of John's cock just as aesthetically beautiful as him and flushed at the tip, you grow wetter.

”My eyes are up here”.

”I know”, you reply, tongue pressing against your teeth. John moves towards the bed with a chuckle before he stops himself. At the sudden halt and redirection, his cock tap against his abdomen, coating his skin in a light sheen from the precum beading the tip.

At first, you don't understand why he stops and rummages through the pocket of his jeans only to pull out his wallet. Then it clocks.

”I’m on the pill”, his eyes jump up to you. His movement stilling. ”And I’m clean. Routine check a few weeks ago”.

A smile tug John’s lips as he drops the wallet onto his jeans. ”Haven’t had anyone for over a year. Clean since then”, he says, kneeling on the bed with one leg, head cocking as his eyes rove over you before meeting your gaze again. “You sure, love?”

”Mhm”, you hum, eyes dragging over his naked form. Sparing an embarrassing amount, despite how small it was, to feel giddy about the fact that John hadn’t had anyone else for a long time until you. Even though a hundred different rational reasons could be the cause rather than him simply not being interested enough to entertain anyone. ”Yeah, I wanna feel you, all of you”. He smirks in that boyish way at your shameless staring and shakes his head.

At this rate, the sway of his body, his heavy cock, made you wet your lips, swallowing down the saliva pooling in your mouth. You’d never wanted to devour someone, but at the specimen of a man before you, fuck, you never wanted it more.  

”Fuck, I want to taste you”. You sit up, but John simply grunts, pushing your shoulder so you fall down immediately.

”Another time”, he grouses, settling on the bed before crawling forwards. ”I need to fuck you now. Isn't that what you wanted, love?” You drop the thought of getting your mouth on him in a second, instinctually parting your legs, mumbling a ’yes, please’. John slots himself in between them with a low laugh. ”Desperate, huh?” He muses, gripping his cock, pumping his shaft, chest heaving with steadying breaths.

Leaning forward with a hand beside your head, John hovers over you, running his cock through your folds, slick coating his tip. As he nudges your clit, your hips jump, causing his cock to catch at your opening, forcing a moan from you both.

”Come on, love, ask nicely”. He dips his head beside your ear, hot breath cascading down your naked skin. Shifting his hips so you were unable to make him slip inside you. ”Said you were a sweet girl. Show me it ain’t only your cunt that’s sweet”.

”John”. Your arms encircle his neck as you lean up. With a slight tug, you indicate you want him to meet you halfway for a kiss. His lips find yours and you can feel a faint taste of yourself, even more so when you slip your tongue against John's. However, you don't go further than that before parting from him. Instead, you kiss the side of his lips, his bearded cheek, and the hinge of his jaw before you reach the soft spot beneath his ear. There you come to whisper, ”I need you inside me”.

You notice how he shudders as you breathe fans softly over his ear, and he doesn’t wait long until lining himself up with your weeping hole.

John keeps his thumb above your entrance when he slowly pushes into you. A low groan tears itself from his open mouth as he slips deeper into your wet heat while a keen escapes you when clenching around his length.

”Feel s’good, fuck”, John grunts. He rocks in the last bit, your hips meeting as he pants, filling you up, cock nestled so deep. ”So tight ’round me”, he moans when his thumb slip upwards, strumming your clit and making you clench around him.

”J-John”, you moan, head thrown back.

”Can I move, love?” You hastily nod, circling your hips as your arms tighten around him. But remembering what he said earlier, a few words are rushed from your tongue.

”Yes, yes, you can move”. He drags his cock out until only his tip rest inside you before roughly entering you to the hilt.

Your stomach clenches as John sets a steady pace, thrusting into you with a snap of his hips that makes you unable to silence your moans. It feels too good to have him in you, on you, around you. One of your arms remains around his neck as your other hand trail down the fine hair on his chest to wrap around his torso, fingers groping his muscled back.

The flush sensation flowing through slowly builds a thin sheen of sweat over your skin, a similar slickness coating John as he fucks you.

His dog tags swing above you, the cool metal quickly turning lukewarm from the heat emitting from your skin. He pushes one of your legs upwards and to the side, clutching the flesh as he spreads you wide, gazing down to stare at the place you’re joined.

You think you could scream. John looks so good, towering over you, mouth hanging open slightly, dog tags twinkling in the air. The grip digging into the meat of your thigh barely grounds you as he switches to long and plunging strokes, pulling out before he pushes his cock as deep as it goes. His well-trimmed pubic bone kisses your mound each time he bottoms out.

His gaze burns into the place where you’re joined. Only making more wetness rush from you until a wet sound escapes your core each time he drives himself into you.

You don’t know what urges you to do it, maybe from stopping the way your jaw works and accidentally chipping a tooth along the way. But you push upwards and, with a tilt of your head, catch the metal swinging above you with your teeth.

A metallic taste fills your mouth as you bite down, the carving of his identification uneven beneath your teeth as you quiet yourself.

John’s movements stutter as he’s tugged forwards slightly when you fall back onto the pillows, accommodating by swiftly bending down and stabilising himself on his forearm. The accompanying sound escaping him is not human. Deep, guttural, vibrating against you. Nothing can describe how primal it sounded stemming from him.

”Fuckin’ hell!” He pants, stilling inside you while the grip on your thigh tightens, meat spilling between John's fingertips. The bedding beside your head moves as you feel his hand fist in its new potion slightly above your crown.

He’s staring down at you. None of that pretty blue present, only a darkness shading them oceanic.

”The things you fuckin’ do to me”. You let go of the tags, the metal bumping against your chin, dotting it with a wet patch from the saliva your tongue coated his identifications in when pushing them from your mouth. When they slide off, the metal taps against your upper throat.

”And what are those, Captain?" A storm rolls over the oceans. Skies darkening, the air whispering silent promises of lighting that could flash any second. In its wake, cracks of thunder would growl, beautifully intimidating in its power. John’s the enigma now, with the lighting striking in his eyes, the thunder rumbling from his lungs.

”Threadin' dangerous ground now, love”. The pet-name he’d used during the evening lost its smoothness and got replaced with a reprimand, a warning.

The deep cadence rocked your core, making you squirm against him. He hisses at the shift of your hips. The hand splayed on your thigh falls to your hips, anchoring them to the bed with the rest of his body weight as he drops his lower body, immobilising any further movement.

”Happen to love those grounds when it comes to you”, you gasp, feeling full as he remains there, filling you up so deliciously.

”You do, don’t ya? Have a hard time convincin’ me of you being sweet when you act like a dirty fuckin’ girl”. A whimper rips from your throat, a shudder leaving goosebumps on your skin as your nails dig into his side, your core throbbing at the lewd sentence.

”John”, you attempt to rock your hips upwards, but his paw and weight keeps you in place. 

Noticing his effect on you, his head dips the crevice of your neck. Lavishing the skin there with kisses and nips, the bristles covering his lower face tickling the skin. It makes a quiver journey up your skull, causing an involuntary twitch of your neck as it cranes away from him.

”Don’t think so”. John shifts, the hand he'd kept himself up with by the side of your head worming under your arm and shoulder. It enables him to clutch the side of your head, stopping any reactions that would bring your further from him as he whispers dirty things into your ear. 

"Think I wanna let you go, eh? You're so pretty beneath me, love. Those eyes of yours, your dirty fuckin’ mouth", his voice dips into a growl, making you boneless, tipping more than pressing against the fingers at the back of your head.

He took the invite to once more pay attention to your neck, enough so it wouldn't be a surprise if a few love-bites would bloom. And as he does, he jostles himself inside you, causing your thigh to flex and the knee of your leg, having rested against the bed since his touch had left, press against his hip.

You need him to move, not comprehending how John could act as if he wasn’t inside you when you clench around him, only continuing to lave at your skin. The restraint on this fucking man would drive you insane.

”Move”, you pant, hand clenching, the pads of your fingers denting his skin as they curl.

”Didn’t hear ya”. John mumbles the response with the quirk of his lips against your throat. You groan both at his reply and the surging need.

”John, move, please”.

”You can do better than that, love”. He rose, face hovering above yours. Your gaze is unsteady and hazy as you blink, feeling wetness coat your lower lash lines. A rumbling chuckle left John upon the sight. ”Despite being so cockdrunk”.

Desire crawls under your skin and you wail, one hand slipping to grip his arm beside your head, the other just attempting to feel him all at once, gliding over his skin with no aim in sight. You open your mouth, but your tongue feels heavy.

”Need you”. The plea is barely coherent as you try to rock your hips upwards. Emphasis on tried, as John still pinned you down. Signalling he wasn’t satisfied. ”I-fuck, ’m need you to move, fuck me, whatever ya want, need to cum”. The end of your sentence became rushed, warbled as warm lust boiled over and constricted your throat. But this time, it was enough for John.

”That’s my girl”. You moan even before he pulls back and rocks into you. Your back arching, neck craning when he finally does.

His pubic bone rubs against yours as he sets a steady pace. Bottoming out each time with a grind that makes him kiss a part inside you that has your toes curling.

John drops his body to yours as his hand circles around your shoulder rather than your head. He presses impossibly close to you, the soft curves of your body moulding against the hard planes of his working muscles.

Your hand move to the back of his neck, fingers carding through his brown locks. Your nails dig, catching his skin, earning you a particularly harsh thrust.

You moan louder and John continues as the same pace as he punches into you with repeated snaps of his hips. Your body jolts, now thankful for his grip on you, or otherwise, you would’ve scooted up the bed until presumingly hitting the wall.

As he hits a spot that makes lighting sip up your spine and you arch against his unmoving front, a wrecked moan stems from your lungs to join his grunts. John notices the difference in your sound of pleasure and continues at the same angle, watching how your head lolls almost too easy to the side. And, if it hadn't been for the desperate noises escaping your open mouth, John would also have worried.

You groan a broken sound into his mouth when he presses his lips to yours, the kiss quickly turning from the press of lips to dirty slides and sucks of tongues.

John's hand on your hip settles on your waist, dragging you to meet each of his thrusts. In response, your legs curl over his hips, your heel pressing into the back of his thighs to drive him further into you. 

As oxygen becomes hard to pull in, your stuttering breaths incapacitate you from continuing the fervent exchange with him, simply keeping your mouth open, panting against him. John doesn’t mind. Not when his grunts bounce against your breathed whines as well.

You don’t know who loses the battle of eye contact first, but soon you find your cheek pressed against his bearded one, head tilting slightly backwards as his hung between his shoulders, breaths puffing against your clavicle.

He mumbles incoherent things, sweet nothings and lewd sentences. "Squeeze me so good”. ”Come on, love, need to feel you come around me". ”Fuck, I’m close”.

You latch onto the last one as you feel your high nearing its crest. 

”Inside, John, cum inside me”. He pushes deeper somehow, his first reaction entirely instinctual upon your sentence.

Your curse gets swallowed by his lips as his hand beneath you grips your neck, fingers pressing into the base of your skull as he claims your lips in a possessive kiss. It’s short as he swiftly parts from you when a moan is ripped from you both, as his dominant display made you clench hard around him.

”S-sure, love?” He groans.

”Yes”, you wail.

”Jesus, I-ah fuck”, his voice is gruff from breathlessness, pleasure-strained sentence clipped. John's eyes close harshly enough that his brows furrow, unable to hold his head up anymore as it drops.

Your legs start to quiver as John slips his finger to rub fervent circles to your clit with a ‘come one, love, need you to cum f’me’ mumbled against your skin.

Your orgasm builds quickly, cresting like the dent your nails press into John’s back. And then it snaps. 

You go rigid with an arch towards his frame, broken cry leaving you. You convulse, toes curling as your legs tighten around John's waist.

His thrust doesn’t stall, he continues to pound you down into the mattress. Though with more restricted movements. He barely pulls out, more so harshly grinding into you, pumping into the spot inside you that only prolongs your pleasure and trashing.

Barely able to moan any longer, mouth just hanging open in a silent scream, your arms envelop his neck once more, forcing him to rest more of his weight on you as he can't keep himself elevated with your insistent tugging and the weakness his nearing high causes.

His thrust turns sloppy when you whisper his name, urging him to cum, that you can't take it any longer, that you want to feel him, to warm you up.

You would've been embarrassed at the words that left your tongue if not for the seemingly continuous stream of ecstasy on your end and the man moaning shamelessly at your purred sentences. And it doesn't end until John's thrust turns erratic, a few more thrusts into your spasming cunt until he comes with a shudder.

A deep groan resonates from him as his back curl, seemingly wanting to crawl into you as he spills deep within you, warmth filling you and leaving you with a sated sensation. He collapses onto you then, his entire weight tending to a deep need of comfort emerging as you both heave for air.

The thin sheen of sweat covering your body cools you down, causing your skin to prickle and a shudder to work through you. Both of you let out near-whiny sounds as it makes you involuntarily clench around him.

But you can't help how you unconsciously clench around John in the wake of your orgasm despite your oversensitive bodies. It makes him grunt and gently pull out of you, sparing both of you the strained pleasure as he rolls to the side. 

Although feeling a sudden emptiness without his weight inside you and your mixed juices slowly trickling out with each spent tremor of your hole, one of John's arms remains around your waist and pulls you close to his side. Tending to your need for closeness.

Your laboured breaths fan against his ribs and back in your face as you feel his chest expand harshly beneath your palm. For a few seconds, you simply revel in the post-euphoria. Eyes closed, basking in John’s presence as you feel the usual drowsiness after reaching your high emerging. Still, you notice how he shuffles all too soon, his arm beginning to slip from around you and his warmth moving away.

”M’no”, you mumble, hooking your arm around John’s waist as he attempts to sit up, face burrowing more into his side.

”M’not gonna disappear, just gonna grab somethin' to clean you up”. Your heart flutters at his care, but at the moment, you need him here with you more.

”Not now, in a bit”. Your eyes flutter open, hooded gaze locking with John’s as you look up at him. Something stalls in his body, stopping him in his movement.

”S’alright then”, he speaks softly, falling down and pulling your upper body onto his chest, and you nuzzle into the column of his neck with a smile and sigh.

”Awfully cosy you are”, John hums beside your ear, shuffling a bit, and you feel the covers that slipped down your bed being pulled to your waist. His hand seeks your skin beneath the fabric giving the both of you some modesty, fingers running up and down your spine.

”Live with it, soldier”.

The air of his soft huff travels over your shoulders. ”Ain’t complainin'”.

”Good”. You kiss the base of his throat, receiving a rumble from his chest.

As you lay there, you slowly feel how you come to. God, you didn’t want to move, but if you didn’t, you would fall asleep. Attempting to stretch away some of the comfortable softness in your limbs, you emerge from his neck to look down at him.

Your hand settles on his chest, your pinky resting on the chain of his dog tags, moving the metal slightly with the flex of your fingertip.

Upon being so close to him, you notice the incredibly sparse, yet still present, specks of grey sprinkled in his hair and beard.

”Hi”. Your soft greeting earns you a smile, that one you liked so much on John's handsome face.

”Hello”. Despite its natural gravel and husk, John's voice is softer than you ever heard during the evening. 

The slow smile pulling your lips doesn’t stop even though he leans up for a peck, which swiftly turns into a few shared kisses. When he parts from you, his head falls back to rest against the hand behind his head, head tilted slightly from the position.

”Remember you mentioned you weren’t needed anywhere in the morning”. Your fingers play with the chain resting on John's chest. The hand around your waist slows until his thumb traces lazy circles against your lower back.

”What about it?” One of his brows quirks, and you glance down at your fingers, suddenly shy beneath his heavy-lidded gaze and confidently relaxed posture in your bed.

”Like to stay the night?” It feels like you mumble the question into his chest, and you even stop yourself from continuing with ’if you don’t want to, you don’t have to’, knowing he’s a grown man aware he has a choice without you plainly stating it.

A slight tap of fingers against your chin brings your gaze back up, and there, his lips meet yours in a deeper kiss than earlier. At the low hum his act pulls from you, he smiles and leans back to rest against your pillows again, index and middle finger resting along your jawline.

”Hadn’t planned to go anywhere if you didn’t shoo me out”.

”I won’t, or maybe just to re-park your car in the morning so you don’t get a ticket”, he chuckled before pulling you closer to him again.

[simslegacy5083]

Not So Berry (Straud Descendants) Gen 9

Today's (9/2/2024) Episode: A Difference of Opinion

The guests had just begun trickling into Luigi and Noemi’s beachside wedding when the chefs finished preparing the fishy feast and refreshments. 

Fresh from the bar, the groom-to-be smiled indulgently as his papa pulled him aside. He could spin into his formal wear after one last round of advice.

To his surprise, his father wasn’t congratulating him on his blushing bride but instead concerned with their little boy. “Skye is old enough now to learn about his special status.” Jack said “If you need help teaching him about The Watcher and legacy heirs just let me know. I’m happy to do my part”.

Luigi, unprepared, looked away. He had almost never disagreed with his papa, but he knew what he had to say on this topic wouldn’t go over well.

“Thanks for the offer” he finally began “but I’ve decided not to tell Skye about any of that. I think its better if he lives his life without those worries.”

Jack immediately blurted out “But son, you can’t keep who he really is from him! If this is about not wanting to give up the spotlight…”

“It’s not about the spotlight!” Luigi fired back “Yes, I can be a self absorbed plumhole, but that’s exactly why I won’t be telling my son about how “special” he is! I want him to have a chance at a normal life, without the idea that he’s somehow better than every other sim in the nation!”

Luigi had meant every word, but seeing the look on Jack’s face he immediately regretted his outburst. “I’m sorry papa” he said, hanging his head.

Jack reached out a hand in reassurance “Its OK, but if you have time, I think we need to talk. I promise not to try and pressure you into anything.”

Luigi nodded. He’d meant to broach this subject much more gently, but clearly, he had a lot of resentment built up around it that he hadn’t ever explored. He texted Noemi that he’d join her in a few minutes and waved his father’s shade over to the nearby banquet table.

He hoped he could help his father understand without driving a wedge between them.

Once they were seated Jack started things off “I never knew you struggled with the knowledge of your legacy heir status. You always seemed so proud of it. You never tired of hearing my stories about the Lacey’s.”

Luigi sighed. “I was a child who had very little contact with anyone outside our immediate family circle. You told me other sims here wouldn’t understand, but it wasn’t until I went to high school that I truly began to appreciate what that meant.”

“I had such a hard time fitting in, and it certainly didn’t help having this idea in my head that I was somehow better than everyone else. Even when I thought I was doing such a good job “hiding”; Beau saw right through me in University. I was so embarrassed, and that made me resent him more than I already did for being a better scuffle player then me. If I’m the heir, shouldn’t I be the best at anything I put my mind to!?”

“The first time I told Noemi the truth” he continued “it almost destroyed our relationship. I learned then that its one thing for you to feel Dada and I are the most special sims in the nation, but its something else entirely for me to think that about myself. That’s a problem, no matter if its true or not.”

“I don’t want Skye to have to deal with that, especially since as far as I can tell it won’t change anything. By your count I’m the ninth heir of this family but the first one to have been raised with the knowledge of it. It didn’t seem to make those other heirs any less special just because they didn’t know.”

By the end of Luigi’s passionate monologue Jack had deflated to a shadow of his already translucent self. He sat in silence for a while, clearly processing what his son had said and deciding what to say in return.

At last, Jack cleared his spectral throat “I hear you, and I won’t tell you how you raise your boy, but will you listen to why I chose to raise you the way I did? I promise, I’m not trying to change your mind. I just really want to know that you understand my decisions, now that you’re a father yourself.”

Luigi nodded for Jack to continue. In his experience his papa had always tried to do the right thing, and he was willing to listen and try to understand what had made him believe teaching Luigi this fact about his life, that had often only made it harder, had been the right thing to do.

View The Full Story of My Not So Berry Challenge Here

[alpydk]

The Circling Sky (Part 2)

New fic, a lot darker than the last one. Set post-Netherbrain. Gale x F (OC) - Written primarily as my own therapy, it seems. TW - Reference to a suicide attempt as well as the overall theme of alcoholism and neglectful parenting.

He packed a small bag of clothes and supplies, thankful for his earlier time on the road for these new skills of survival. Though he was anxious for what was to come, a part of him was excited to be moving again, to see what types of people would be awaiting him this time. He left a small letter of explanation for Tara and as the sun rose, he left for the city limits.

Ao3 Link

Lissa had run home through the rain to find her father quickly packing essentials into a trunk. This happened every so often, usually when he owed money to someone and couldn’t pay up, but since reaching Waterdeep he had promised things would be different. “What do you mean we have to leave?” The smell of alcohol permeated his clothes, and she knew exactly what had happened. He’d got drunk, gambled the last of their gold away and was now most likely in debt to someone dangerous. “You’ve not pissed it away, have you?”

He refused to answer, just throwing clothes into a bag. “Lissa, dear. It’s not how it looks, we just have to lay low for a little while, that’s all. Go grab your cloak.” She noted the swelling under his eye, not the first black eye he’d managed to get. At least that’s all it was this time.

She remembered the nights she had come home from working at sleazy bars, finding him unconscious on the floor either from having been beaten up or having just drunk himself into that state. The worst moment was when she was barely ten years old and she had found him lying under a broken rafter in their bedroom, the noose still tied around his neck and his face bruised and swollen from what he had attempted to do. She’d been young but she fully understood what had happened, choosing just to sit with him until he woke. He’d never tried anything like that again but the drinking, the gambling, the fights, they all continued. She’d thought about leaving so many times, even threatened it, but each time he would play the victim and she would feel the guilt wrap itself around her own throat, her own noose ready for the hanging.

“But what about my job, Dad? I can’t just up and leave.”

“Well, you’re going to have to. I’m sure they won’t miss you. There’re always other young girls who can serve drinks.”

She turned from him holding back her anger. He didn’t even know what she had been doing these last two months. How every single day she’d worked at the library to bring money into their home, keeping them fed and with a roof over their heads. “Can you not just use the money I’ve been putting aside? Do we really have to leave another place?”

He paused from packing, and she knew exactly what this meant. “The savings?”

“You used them too, didn’t you?”

“Well now, there were good odds on this horse…”

She wanted to shout at him. She should have known better than to have left the gold at home where he could access it. He’d promised her that this wouldn’t happen again, promised her that the drinking would stop, and he would do better by her. She couldn’t even be angry at him though, it was so much easier to feel nothing, to expect disappointment instead.  Her father, the most unreliable person she knew.

Realising she hadn’t brought her cloak home with her; she looked back over to him. “How much time do we have?”

“We’re joining the caravan to Baldur’s Gate around sunrise tomorrow. I expect us up and at the city limits just before then,” he said as he slumped to his side, leaving the bag and gripping his chest.

Hearing the thud, she ran over to him “Shit, Dad. The pain again? You spoke to the clerics, right?”

He rubbed at his shirt breathing deeply until it had passed. “Of course, they said it’s nothing.”

“So that money went on booze too, didn’t it?” She stood back up shaking her head. He couldn’t be trusted to do anything. Why did she keep letting him get away with this? “I left my cloak at the library. I’ll be back in a bit.”

***

Gale paced his study trying to figure out what to do with himself. He had no confirmation that this letter was real and no more information than what was written there. He considered a sending spell, maybe another letter to gather up information but he felt restless knowing he would need to wait for a reply. There was also the matter that if the information was correct, if Tav was truly dead then he would be left alone to grieve in Waterdeep. There was always Tara and his mother and yet they had never brought comfort in the same way his friends had. No, he wanted to be around them again; he would travel to Baldur’s Gate. 

He packed a small bag of clothes and supplies, thankful for his earlier time on the road for these new skills of survival. Though he was anxious for what was to come, a part of him was excited to be moving again, to see what types of people would be awaiting him this time. He left a small letter of explanation for Tara and as the sun rose, he left for the city limits.

***

“Is five gold mate, you can’t just come on ‘ere for free.” 

Lissa’s father, Viktor, had been trying to barter for some time with the caravan leader to get them a spot on the cart. After she’d left him, he’d done little more in the ways of packing and had instead started on a bottle of brandy he’d bought with the last gold they had. The swelling under his eye had turned a blue-black colour and he nursed his head clearly suffering the consequences of his actions. 

“Look, ‘ow ‘bout you let us ‘ave a little minute with your pretty friend there. Then we can call it even.”

Her back tensed up at the idea of it and her father’s silence brought her little comfort. Was he seriously considering this? In the end, she turned removing a small silver ring from her finger. “Here this is easily worth five gold.”

“But wasn’t that your mother’s?” her father said, his voice sounding gravelly. 

It had been, but her mother was long gone. A drow that had managed one drunken night with her father and then ditched her the moment she realised she wasn’t a full-blood. Just another tragic half-breed treated as an outsider by both races. All she had was her father; what was some trinket compared to family? Lissa handed over the necklace and as the caravan leader nodded, she took her father’s arm helping him up onto the cart. 

“Lissa?”

A voice from behind her calling her name, one she recognised. As she turned, she saw Gale approach, his arm waving to her and a smile on his face. What was he doing here? Viktor leant out from behind her. “He looks like he’d have a bit of cash on him.” 

She stepped down from the cart and approached Gale, trying to distance herself from her father lest Gale realise she was together with him. “Mr. Dekarios, a surprise to see you.”

“Yes, yes, a welcome surprise to see you too. I’m to take a rather unexpected journey. Might I assume that you are to do the same?” He signalled to the wagon. 

“Yeah, something like that. We’re going to visit family.” This had been the lie ever since she was a child, a dying grandmother, a pregnant aunt, some distant relative in need of aid, anything but the truth. She’d lost count of how many times she had covered for her father’s debts.

“Ah, exciting. Well, it will be good to have some fine company on this expedition.” He softly smiled at her, and she remembered how close she had come to kissing him the previous evening, the warmth inside her still burning for him. If she hadn’t been aware of her father’s eyes on them both she might have just given in there and then to him.

“Oi, Lis’, we need to get a move on. He wouldn’t be interested in you anyways, looks like he goes for the smart ones,” he laughed.

She closed her eyes at her father’s words that rang out over the group of travellers. She opened them again to see Gale looking at her with sympathy. His voice was quiet and caring. “Family, I take it?”

She gave a quick nod and turned to the cart. This was going to be a very long trip to Baldur’s Gate.

***

For some hours they sat as the cart rocked back and forth along the bumpy road. Viktor had thankfully fallen asleep, a flask in hand. He’d told her it just held water, but the smell had given it away quite quickly. So long as he was asleep that was fine. It meant she could collect her thoughts and prepare for setting up again in a new city. 

Gale sat across from her observing the way she tapped her fingers repetitively. Thumb to pointer, tapped twice, repeated on each finger and back again. Clearly, some sort of mindless soothing habit she had. These little things he had never had the chance to see during his visits to the library. Though he had watched her often then, it was different when she wasn’t moving around constantly. Eventually, he spoke up hoping she would engage in conversation with him. “Lissa, I delivered your cloak to the library. I can see you never found the opportunity to collect it.”

“We left in quite a hurry. Family emergency you see.” She nervously tapped her fingers together a few more times.

He leant forward, placing a hand on her knee, his voice calm and soft. “Ah, do you want to talk about it? I’m quite the good listener.”

“No, no it’s fine.” More information meant more lies, which meant more to keep track of. Best to just keep it short and simple. Besides once they reached the city, they would be parting ways for good. No reason to build any attachments.

“Well, when we travel back, maybe you can collect it. Or possibly I could purchase you a new one. It was my fault after all that you left it behind.”

She remembered the events vividly, how she had left the tower, how the rain had battered down on her bare shoulders as she ran home. She could feel the warmth of his hand on her leg, her mind becoming easily distracted; change the subject repeating internally. “Why is it you are travelling Mr. Dekarios?”

“Please, my dear. Call me Gale. We are no longer in the library.”

“That may be so but if we are to return, I don’t want to create any bad habits I can not break.” She didn’t want to build up any close relations, especially not with someone who she was already fond of. 

Gale pulled himself back, removing his hand from her. He seemed disappointed and she hated herself for dismissing him so quickly. Her father snored next to her, and she bit back the resentment she held towards him. If only that beam had held, maybe things would have been different for her. No, she shouldn’t think that, this was her father after all.

“I understand. Well, I suppose my reason for travelling is much like your own. A family emergency of sorts.” Gale didn’t want to say death until he was sure of the exact circumstances, and he didn’t want to share full details if she was to keep up the pretence of a professional relationship.

She nodded. She was curious but did not want to dig further into it, knowing it would mean sharing more of her own life as an unwritten payment for information. She grabbed at the bag between her legs puling out a small book to read.

“Tanil?”

Lissa lifted her head at the unexpected question.

Gale gestured to the book in her hands. “The book you hold there. Felaar Tanil, if I’m not mistaken.” 

“Um, yes, it is. How did you know?”

He gave a short chuckle. “My dear, I’ve been known to try my hand at poetry. Tanil is one of the ones I would often recommend over a bottle of Blingdenstone Blush.”

She smiled at him, enjoying this moment of connection but simultaneously cursing the fact that they shared something in common. Her slowly improving mood was shattered instantly at the voice of her father, his opinions needing to be vocalised for all to hear.

“Poetry is for elves, princesses, and men who-” His voice was cut off by a sudden lurch of the cart, hitting a bump in the road. Lissa was thankful as it gave her a quick moment to mouth an apology to Gale for her father’s behaviour. Only three tenday to go… 

[pocketseizure]

A Hard Day’s Work

Koopa Castle may be a mighty fortress, but it’s not without its share of mundane problems. Luigi is happy to take any plumbing job that pays, and his expertise finds appreciation from an unlikely source – the Koopa King himself.

1,385 words · Rated G · (Also on AO3)

“All the sinks and drains on the east wing of the second level are overflowing,” Kamek explained, wringing his claws in agitation. “It’s not the lava, not this time. I’m afraid there might be something blocking the pipes.”

Luigi nodded in sympathy. “That sounds like a problem. I’ll see what I can do.”

“So I’ll leave you to it, then?” Kamek asked.

“I’d appreciate if you’d have someone escort me. I don’t know my way around the castle as well as, ah. Some people.”

“Oh! Yes. Of course, of course.”

Kamek adjusted his glasses and called for one of the guards, who gave Luigi a shallow bow before gesturing for him to follow. “I’ll send someone to check on you soon,” the wizard said before disappearing in a puff of light and glitter.

“Does he do that a lot?” Luigi asked the guard, who managed to keep a straight face for a few seconds before breaking into a grin.

“Gosh. Luigi, sir. It’s amazing to meet you!”

“Charmed, I’m sure.”

“I heard the boss called a plumber, but I never dreamed it would be, you know, a celebrity. Wow. Luigi himself, right here in this castle!”

The guard continued to chatter as he guided Luigi through a maze of stairs and corridors. Despite the brutal shock and awe of the first floor, the second level was actually quite pleasant. Or rather, it would have been were it not for the water flowing down the main hallway in murky trickles.

“I can take it from here, thanks.” It was rude to leave the guard behind so abruptly, but Luigi figured it was only a matter of time until the koopa began asking about Mario. In Luigi’s experience, the only people who treated him as though he was famous had ulterior motives. More often than not, they were not-so-subtly attempting to bask in the reflected glory of his brother. He’d been hurt by this before, but now he saw it coming a mile away and simply found it annoying.

Luigi followed the water to its source, a room dominated by a huge bath. The tub was so enormous that it was more of a swimming pool, really. Aside from a shallow pool of standing water at the bottom of the tiled basin, the floor was dry.  

No doubt about it. The blockage was in the pipe connected to this drain. Luigi set down his equipment, rolled up his sleeves, and got to work.

Less than ten minutes later, he’d managed to extract a Mario doll. What it was doing in this particular castle or how it got down this particular drain was anyone’s guess.

“Just can’t stop yourself from causing trouble, can you, brother?” Luigi muttered as he wrapped the battered doll in a waterproof sheet of plastic to be disposed of later. Once the stagnant water disappeared from the tub, he set out into the hallway to check the other drains.

There were no chains or spikes or lava pits in any of the bathrooms, which were shockingly normal despite being built to accommodate people of varying sizes. This wing of the castle must have been intended for guests, not that Luigi could imagine who those guests might be. He had little interest in Mario’s battles, but even he understood that the Koopa King wasn’t big on diplomacy.

As he tested the faucets in what he hoped was the last of the bathrooms, Luigi felt a chill on the back of his neck. He glanced into the mirror and was horrified by the sight that confronted him. A dark shadow towered in the doorway, its red eyes glowing.

“Can I help you?” Luigi asked, hoping against hope that whoever it was couldn’t hear the quiver in his voice.

“I came to check on you. You know, see if you need anything.”

Luigi summoned his courage and turned around. Just as he feared, the person Kamek had sent to check on him was Bowser himself, as tall as a mountain and just as wide.

“No. I’m, um. I’m done here. All finished. I’ll just be going… now.”

“Not so fast,” Bowser growled.

Luigi swallowed but couldn’t respond. His voice was frozen in his throat.

“Aren’t you going to write an invoice?” Bowser asked.

Luigi doubted he could write his own name at the moment. What did Bowser intend to do with him? With a sinking feeling, Luigi realized that he and Bowser were completely alone in an otherwise empty room on an otherwise empty floor.

“I’ll send you, um. I’ll put the invoice in the mail,” he stammered.

“Sure.” Bowser shrugged. “I’ll have my people keep an eye out. So what’s the damage?”

Luigi shot a glance at Bowser’s fangs. “The… damage?”

Bowser furrowed his massive eyebrows. “Is everything okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“A ghost?”

“Wait. You didn’t actually see a ghost, did you? Cause we got ghosts. Little buggers get into everything. We try to keep them in the basement, but there’s not much you can do if they decide they’re going places. Not like we can put gates on the stairs, right? You wouldn’t boo-lieve how much trouble they are.”

Bowser laughed at his own joke and exited the room. He held the door open for Luigi, who was beginning to entertain the possibility that he was not in fact on the verge of being murdered.

“I wouldn’t call it ‘damage,’ per se,” Luigi ventured, “but someone shoved a, um. I found a toy down one of the drains. It was the large bath down the hall.”

“That’ll be one of the kids. The castle is lousy with them. Wish I could stick them in the basement with the ghosts, but that’d be cruel to the ghosts.”

Luigi couldn’t tell whether Bowser was joking. He decided it was probably best if he didn’t know. “The toy was unsalvageable, but the drains are clear. You might want to open the windows and put some portable fans on the floor, if you have them. Mold spreads fast, even in dry air. You can’t be too careful.” A thought suddenly occurred to him. “No offense against mushrooms.”

Bowser laughed in appreciation. “You’re not bad, Luigi,” he said. “So what do we owe you?”

That was a tricky question. Back at home, a job like this was barely worth the price of a house call. What would a king expect him to charge? Was someone like him supposed to charge a king money to begin with? Bowser wasn’t the sort of clientele he was accustomed to, to say the least.

“Don’t worry about it,” Luigi replied. “It wasn’t any trouble. Let’s say this was a service, and you’ll know who to call the next time there’s a problem.”

“That doesn’t seem fair. You came all the way out from Toad Town.”

“I live in the suburbs, so the commute wasn’t bad. Besides, there’s not much use for money in a post-scarcity economy. I mean, ah.” Luigi glanced away, embarrassed to catch himself speaking as though Bowser was just another guy in Brooklyn.

“I hear you. A post-scarcity economy, I like that.” Bowser guffawed, flashing his teeth. “There’s enough bread and circus to go around. It’s nice to meet someone who appreciates that. We’ll call this a favor, then. I owe you one. How about you stay over for dinner tonight?”

Luigi was embarrassed to find himself blushing like a schoolgirl. “I’m not sure… I mean, that is to say…”

“Don’t worry about that brother of yours.” Bowser’s booming voice echoed down the hallway as he clapped Luigi on the back. “You can tell him I kidnapped you.”

It was hard for Luigi to say no with the warmth of Bowser’s smile aimed directly at him. Come to think of it, he was a little jealous of the princess. It might be nice to be kidnapped every once in a while. 

“All right, sure,” Luigi answered. “I’d like that. As long as you don’t serve mushrooms. I wouldn’t want to get you in… truffle?”

Bowser’s eyes widened in surprise before he burst into laughter. Luigi finally allowed himself to relax. Mario’s job might be more glamorous, sure, but his own work had its share of benefits. And like Bowser said, it was nice to be appreciated.

[noonaishere]

Music of the Heart [J.YH] - twenty-nine | more like constipated

“He kept trying to talk to me during senior year,” you continued, “maybe he just thought that I would cool down after a while and we could be friends again… but I just couldn’t trust him after that.” You wiped a tear away, the memories fresh in your mind now from recounting it all.

Hongjoong nodded.

“My mom never wanted me to be friends with a boy anyway, so she was happy to keep him away whether I wanted her to or not. And because he was the only friend I had, I had none for the rest of the school year. The day after I graduated, I moved out, pawned my violin, used the money to buy back my bass, moved to Seoul, and never spoke to him or my family ever again.”

Hongjoong nodded again before shaking his head. “I’m… I’m sorry. My family is in the arts as well but they’ve always been supportive of me no matter what I wanted to do… I can’t imagine what it must be like to be completely at odds with the people who are supposed to love you.”

You nodded with a laugh. “Well, I can tell you it sucks, so you don’t have to try and imagine.”

He smiled, appreciation of your joke mixed with pity for the situation that would cause you to make it.

You nodded. 

“That’s why you’re so good at sight reading.” 

“Yep.” 

“And that’s why you know so much classical music.” 

“Somewhat unfortunately.” 

“‘Unfortunately?’” 

“Someone should know pieces or songs because they like them, no? Not because it was forced on them.” 

Hongjoong nodded slowly. “We definitely agree on that.”

You nodded.

“Well, if you want I can ask Jongho to never invite him to the studio again. He’ll listen to me.”

You shook your head. “Thanks, but I kind of saw him in the hallway the last time he was here and uh… told him off?”

His eyebrows ticked up. “You did?”

“Yeah. He asked if I was sure I didn’t know him and I told him I knew exactly who he was and that I wanted him to never speak to me again.”

“What’d he say?”

“He seemed pretty stunned.”

“Well,” Hongjoong folded his arms and nodded, “I have to say I’m proud of you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. If he ruined your dreams and you told him to stay away, he should.”

You nodded. 

“Have you talked to your family since you left?”

“Not really… my brother texts me sometimes but I just blow him off.”

“Then I’ll say what they should have been saying to you the whole time: I’m proud of you.”

You nodded, and turned away.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m sorry,” you held back tears. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying.”

He put a hand on your shoulder.

“I… they never ever told me they were proud of me. Well, a couple times when I won violin competitions… but I didn’t even want to be there so it felt more like they were congratulating themselves instead of me.”

He nodded. “I understand.” “Umm… thank you? For telling me you’re proud of me. You’re like… the brother or cousin I’ve never had.” You laughed at how stupid the idea was.

He smiled. “I’ll be your older brother if you want. You already have my number, so just call me if you ever need anything.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Imagine that you have one family member you’re on good terms with, and it’s me.”

You nodded with a laugh. “Okay. Aside from the audition and my first week here, you’re still cooler than my real brother.”

“Hey, I just wanted whoever we hired to be worthy of the job. The person who left wasn’t and I wanted someone who was perfect.”

You scoffed. “…I’m perfect?”

“Yeah. So far. You can play bass, which is what we originally wanted, and then you surprised us by being able to read sheet music, and you understand how to mix music to bring out the best parts of a song. I’d say that makes you perfect for this job.”

You nodded.

“And… for putting up with my bad attitude at the beginning, I’d say you’re a pretty great person in general.”

You laughed. “You’re right, it would take a saint to put up with you.”

He laughed. “I was just trying to scare off anyone who was weak enough to be scared by it.”

“Truthfully, you’re not that scary.”

He looked offended. “I can be scary!”

At that moment, Maddox walked in the door. “Why are you scary? Are you trying to scare t/n away again? I’ll punch you.”

You laughed. 

“Why are you back?”

“I left my phone charger and I only have one.”

“Living on the wild side.” You laughed.

Maddox looked near his chair for the charger and found it.

“Hey, I can be scary, right Maddox?” Hongjoong made an angry face at him.

He looked at him for a moment as he coiled the wire around his hand and put it in his bag. “More like constipated.”

“Hey!” Hongjoong yelled.

You howled with laughter.

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[nine-of-words]

No Vacancy (Part Four)

M Orc x M Merfolk Reader

PREVIOUS || STORY TAG || NEXT

Wordcount: 3291

Content Warnings: Brief Non-Graphic Depiction of Sex Work, Slit Fingering/Anal Fingering, Masturbation, Sexual Harassment

Did my best with the content warnings this time, but honestly not sure how I would even tag some of the stuff in this part? Regardless, we’re over the hump now for this story! Just two more parts to go :)

Inadequate. Pitiful. Embarrassing.

These are just some of the words that could describe this situation.

<I’m sorry, this has never been a problem before.> You sign to your client, frustrated. <It’s not your fault.>

<It’s okay, I’m sure this happens to everyone sometimes, right?> Your client signs to you in return, attempting to comfort you with a sheepish look.

In the couple of years you’ve been doing this - you have never had any trouble getting the job done before.

But now this-

You can’t even present the tool needed to complete the task. No matter what you do, your dick stubbornly won’t emerge from your genital vent. The thing might as well be welded shut.

It’s not like the client is unappealing to you, either. You find most mermaids attractive on some level - but it’s never had much to do with how they look, anyway. It’s just a job to you, a pleasant biological process that you exchange for extra gold every June and December.

Eventually, you both decide to give up. There’s no point in wasting any more of either of your time when it’s clear that nothing is going to happen.

You push the seaweed curtain to the side as you swim out of the mermaid’s private cove, still absolutely mortified.

It seems all you’re doing lately is fleeing awkward situations…

The client was nice enough to be graceful about your failure to do your job. Your boss, on the other hand, is not going to be so nice.

The next day when you arrive, Madame does indeed rip you a new one.

<What happened?> She signs, her ornately lacquered finger nails a bit more tense than normal from her clear irritation. 

<I don't know.> You sign in turn, movements trailing off into the next as you try to collect your thoughts better. <We just didn’t… click.>

In the back of your mind, you know exactly why you failed, even if you haven’t fully accepted it yourself yet.

<Unacceptable. This isn't a question of personal preference, you’re still expected to perform.> Her brightly lined eyes narrow at you, and her fins flare out in thought. <Your track record is spotless- aside from the cyclone this past summer- so this is rather surprising.>

<So, you already know I can do better.> You reassure her. If anything, you know how to market yourself. <It was just a fluke.>

<Are you sure? You can take a leave if the pressure is too much.>

Is she… actually showing concern?

&lt;;A permanent leave. Not everyone can handle this job, after all.> She continues, shattering any hope of relief. <I can have your lined up clients select someone else; I'm sure Uttar has other pretty faces with debt that he could lend me. Deadlines are deadlines.>

No, of course not. Of course it's only about metrics.

&lt;No! No. I need the gold.> 

<Well, if that's the case, I need your assignments done without issue. It will hurt the reputation of my business if you can't even manage that much.>

<Please give me another chance.> You're sick to your stomach that you're groveling like this to keep a job you don't even really want. You have too much self worth for the taste to go down smoothly. The extra pay is just too good to let go. <It won't happen again.>

<Make sure it doesn't.> She swims over to the cove wall where several rectangular planks of carved abalone and nacre are strung along a rope. She pulls off a blush pink plank with your next assignment's location painted on it off the line and then swims back over to hand it to you. <I would hate to lose a valuable asset because of incompetence.>

You swim out of there,  and out of the lobby so fast the receptionist probably only sees a blur of blue and purple.

You're absolutely seething. You're surprised the water isn't boiling around your face, with all the heat of the restrained anger gathered there.

It was difficult to resist the urge to quit on the spot. You wish you could…

But it pays so, so much better than your regular courier gigs, and it’s only two months of the year. 

So, you swallow your pride. It's all you can do.

After hours of high speed swimming and your anger has finally cooled off considerably, you start thinking about taking a break. 

Normally on this route, you’d book a room for an overnight rest when you caught up to Varuj’s ship, but…

You cringe even thinking about it now.

How could you even face him after what happened the last time? What would you even say?

Even with your mind fully occupied with self-scolding and self-loathing, your body has absent-mindedly navigated to follow his ship’s route. And sure enough, as soon as you’ve realized it, you spot a familiar keel in the distance.

You want to talk to him. You miss talking to him already. You just… have to actually say something…. 

But what?

Slowing from your rapid cruising speed, you pull up alongside the boat’s side. You barely break the surface enough to scan for a sign of him above deck in the crowd of people enjoying the clear weather. 

He's chatting to some of his passengers like he usually does, with an effortless charisma. Varuj may not be loud or bombastic or overtly attention grabbing, but he has such a warm personality that people tend to naturally gravitate to him. Even during your stays, he often ends up with a small group of tourists around him- he can turn anyone into a friend, it seems.

…Even people like Uttar, apparently. The thought leaves a sour taste in your mouth.

Varuj seems to be doing fine. Great, even. He's certainly at least behaving normally, which is more than what could be said for you.

Why is that, when you're this torn up? When it feels like your entire life has been shattered to pieces?

Things were going fine. He just had to suggest making things more… involved…

Being able to quit sounded so nice at face value, but he doesn't know the reason you're doing this. You'll never pay off your debt if you go back to normal, less shady courier work. 

Varuj did offer you work, but… who knows if that'd be enough, either.

More importantly, you don't want to be indebted to him like that, not anymore than you want to be to Uttar- or anyone else, for that matter.

What was he thinking, even suggesting that? Maybe he was just drunk…

You grimace and dip back underneath the white caps before you're spotted.

You can't deal with this right now. You don't want to know, if that's the case, anyway.

You eventually find a cove to rent for the night, but it's annoyingly far out of the way of your route back. You prefer staying on Varuj's ship on your work journeys because the vessel keeps making progress in the right direction while you rest… that's not the only reason, of course, but it's what you're lamenting the most as you mire yourself between the bunches of kelp, trying to get comfortable.

But no matter how you arrange yourself, you can't seem to find a position you feel at ease. Your body is still far too worked up from earlier, and craving the release it didn’t get.

Your mind wanders back to where you'd rather be; what you’d rather be doing and who you’d rather be doing it with, and your hands follow suit.

The soft edges of your vent are warm to the touch and throbbing lightly already, just remembering how it feels.

Really? Now? You mentally chide your body.

You lightly trace your opening the way Varuj usually does at the beginning of an encounter. The more you think about him, the more your muscles loosen up obediently, viscous natural lubricant starting to coat your fingers.

Where was this enthusiasm when I needed it earlier?

After barely any encouragement, your cock has already begun to emerge from the top portion of your slit from the sensation, stiff and craving the warm squeeze of his mouth and the smooth point of his tusks on your inner thighs.

Ugh… why did it have to be like this?

It makes sense, you guess.

It’s different with Varuj than with clients, anyway, to the point that you’d much rather it be him than a client. There’s a level of freedom there that you don’t get when it’s someone you’re assigned to please- at least that’s what you’ve been telling yourself.

You had such a good thing going. It was… Easy. And now…

He just wants to tie you down, like everyone else.

And nothing good ever comes out of owing anyone anything.

At some point, the heady thoughts about his mouth on your cock has shifted into thoughts about his mouth on your own instead; a prospect that is equal parts exciting and confusing. You’ve never been so aroused by the thought of kissing someone, but here you are. Before him, you didn’t even think you were even all that interested in kissing. But remembering the sensation of warm, slick tongue muscle and the soft hum of affirmative grunting against your lips, you find that you’ve really come to crave it.

Tentatively, you start pressing into your lower slit and into your entrance, thinking of his girthy fingers being the ones pressing inside instead.

To your surprise and moreso chagrin, your fingers slip inside with almost insulting ease. Spurred on by lust, you slowly, firmly, press your fingers deeper inside.

You never expected things to end up like this. While you’ve always enjoyed Varuj’s company, you prefer your boundaries well defined, and he is far from your usual type. 

But you can't deny the effect fantasizing about him is having on you- No resistance, with each little wriggle of your fingers making your hips jerk against your hand. A stark difference from your failed attempts to do your job lately.

Unfortunately, lightly fingering yourself isn’t really satisfying you enough. You’re accustomed to more mass than even three of your fingers can achieve, and they can’t recreate the knobby texture ubiquitous of his orcish dick.

Chasing the memory of that feeling, your fingers move more emphatically on their own. They thrust deeper in, with more firm pressure behind your strokes until you feel the dizzying jolts of pleasure going straight behind your eyes.

You’re so worked up that it doesn't take much of that solid rhythm to push you over the edge. The edges of your vent contract around your fingers, clenching along with the pelvic muscles forcing cum out of you. Thick, vicious seed disperses into the water above you, suspended in the mild current as it slowly disappears.

Your gills pulse in silent panting. It felt good, but there's a deep pit of dread hollowing out your chest overshadowing the afterglow.

It’s as you suspected, as if you really needed to investigate it. Your dick definitely still works. Your body isn’t suddenly incapable of arousal- though it might be easier if that was the case - it’s a natural side effect that commonly happens to some merfolk.

It’s spawnlock.

Varuj is the only partner your body will accept now, whether in person or just the thought of him.

You know exactly what that means.

As much as you have been denying it and avoiding it and lying to yourself the feeling is there, and being expressed by your body regardless of your permission.

You love him.

And the feelings you’ve developed for him are now a physical obstacle for your work.

…This is bad.

You rub your face with a palm in frustration and exhaustion, swaying silently in the water for the rest of the night.

In the morning, you still continue to your next client’s location, though the tenseness in your shoulders makes swimming much less enjoyable.

This can still work. Maybe if you just… think about him hard enough, you can bypass the effect?

You spend the rest of your travel trying to psych yourself up and push through, to continue on like nothing has happened. You get all the way there and begin the session, stubbornly committing.

It does not work like you’d hoped. No matter what you try, it’s the same results as before.

…Unfortunately, your willpower isn’t strong enough to trick your body. Just thinking about him isn’t enough, not with the presence of another person and not him.

<What’s this? You fall in love on the way over here?> Your client signs, punctuating her thoughts by curling her fingers in manual laughter.

At least she’s amused. You don’t know if it’s worse or better this way; you suppose it’s better than her being angry, but you’re not sure how much more bruising your ego can take.

You apologize, accepting defeat much quick this time than the last, and leave the client’s dwelling in shame as fast as your fins can manage.

A cold hand of dread grips your chest as you exit the cove.

There’s no way around it. You can’t work this job anymore, and it’s your own fault.

You don’t even bother taking a rest this time, instead rushing through the swim to get back to Madame’s place. You’d rather just face the music and get it over with.

The trip is strangely serene. You expected to be panicking on what this means for how you can pay off your debt, but all you feel is a calm, empty resentment for your situation.

<You have a lot of nerve coming back here.> She points at you accusatorily as you enter. <You asked for a second chance and this is what you do with it?> 

You set the plank with the information about your last failed job on her desk.

<Look. I did my best. But->

She swipes her hand through the water, interrupting you.

<I don’t want excuses. Do you think I haven’t already received the message from the client?>

<I can explain.>

<There’s not much to explain.> Her expression is somewhere between scorn and pity. <You got yourself a little crush?>

<What makes you think that?>

<I've been doing this a long time.> She shakes her head in admonishment. <It’s not a past client, I hope? That never ends well.>

You don't respond. The fins on the sides of your head flutter through the water in simmering rage, the only movement you're making as you stare her down. Your hands don't need to do the speaking when your eyes are certainly already taking care of it.

<Your contract is void.> She signs pointedly, her glossy lips pulled into a tight, sanctimonious grimace as she seems to savor adding the last movements. <You're fired.>

<You don’t have to fire me - I quit!> You finally snap and sign the last word over and over for emphasis, letting the simmering frustration boil over. <Quit. Quit. Quit.>

You turn your back and storm out, your hands still repeatedly forming the decoupling shape of quit as you go- it’s petty, but you're going to have the last word. 

You want nothing more than to run- just swim off so far and so fast that you can leave all of this behind.

But what’s the point in trying? The tracking rune that was placed on you when you were saddled with the debt would only make it a matter of time until you were caught, anyway.

Swimming aimlessly calms you down eventually… You realize you’re following Varuj’s ship route, again. 

This time you force yourself to veer off, deciding to go to where Uttar’s ship would be right now. You don’t want to, but he’ll find out what happened sooner rather than later. He’ll at least have a courier job for you to pick up, most likely…

You feel detached from your body when you finally arrive. Every bone and scale on your body is telling you not to board the ship… but you do. You have to.

“Well, would ye look at that,” Uttar says, picking his teeth in a tarnished, ornate handmirror. “Favorite little fish ‘o mine is back early. But Spawn’s still goin’ for another week or so, aye?”

You know he already knows what happened. Once again, he just delights in yanking you around.

“That arrangement’s not working out anymore. This isn’t something I can keep doing.”

“Real shame that is. As I recall it, you don’t exactly have the luxury to be picky about what jobs ye choose to take.”

“It’s not a choice.” You clench your fists at your sides, trying to keep your voice even and unraised, determined to not let him feed off of any reaction. “I physically can’t do it. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“None a’my business? You are business-” You can basically smell the burning rubber from his speech grinding to a halt as the gears visibly work in his head.

Then, with the realization, he laughs boisterously. It’s a nasty, cruel laugh, meant to taunt you in and of itself. He drops the mirror and gets up from his seat, coming around the side of his desk to approach you.

“Oh, hoho, fishie’s gone an’ fallen in loooooove, ‘ave we?” He throws an arm around your shoulders in a clearly fake, over-acted chummy manner. You resist the urge to dig your teeth into his forearm and not let go. “Who’s the lucky lady? Or gent, more like?”

He’s playing dumb to make the end result more vicious. You know, because you’ve heard that tone before.

“Must be ol’ Rujie, huh? Seein’ as ye were at his little shindig the other day. Looked like ya saw a ghost when ya seen me there!”

“No.” You say, not convincing anyone. You hate that he’s even talking about him. 

“Me an’ him go way back, y’know?” Uttar continues, absolutely ignoring the fact that you attempted to deny it. “If I’m bein’ honest with ya, though? -Because y’know I have yer best interest at heart- the salty dog laid with each an’ every able bodied seaman he could get his mitts on. With ya here like this workin’? He’s probably got his mitts on some other man as we speak.”

“We’re not dating.” You say coldly, a deep disgust that he’s trying to smear Varuj’s character tying a knot in your stomach.

“Aye? Got ya all loved up and then cut ya loose?” His arm around your shoulder tightens. “Well, a pity, that; it limitin’ yer options an’ all. The merladies pay much better during Spawn times, as y’know. Landlubbers won’t pay quite as well; but their gold’s still gold. And you still have a debt to pay off.”

“Landlubbers…?” You repeat, the full realization of what he’s saying begins to sink in. “...Oh...”

“What, thought ya were off the hook?” He laughs another cutting acidic laugh, and moves his arm to swat you on the ass. “Ya might be locked up in front, but from where yer standin’, round back will still work fine.”

You’re unable to protest the crossed physical boundary, too shocked to even speak.

“Maybe yer gonna think twice about letting me knock some o’ that interest off, aye? For now, go ahead an’ deliver this parcel for me.” Uttar shoves one of the typical shady-looking wrapped packages you’re used to delivering into your open palms. “I’ll line up a new Madame from one of the pleasure boats to handle ye between runs. Ye’ll be back to work by time yer back, ain’t that nice?”

He keeps talking, but it’s just a verbal slurry at this point.

You swallow dryly, and your fingers slowly clench around the parcel in numb, wordless despair.

>> ✨ MASTERLIST >> ☕ KO-FI

[lyon-amore]

What if...? Duskwood Chapter 36

Chapter 35 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  

*Macie POV*

 I read the messages that the kidnapper has sent me. I dare not answer him. For now. It's better that I doesn't tell Jake for now, he just found out that his sister is to blame for running over Jennifer Hanson. If I now tell him that the kidnapper has sent me a message, I think it will worry him even more. And I want to take care of him. I will try that he can come to his senses and that he stops all this.

I arrive at the motel with two cup of coffee. I need one too after everything that's happened, I need to focus on Hannah's phone and see if we can find anything useful. I knocked on the door and Jake opens it a little, opening more until he sees it's me.    "A medium coffee for you and a large one for me." I hand him the cup and go to drink from mine.  "Stop right there" he stops me, exchanging our cups, ", you the medium one, I the big one" He raises his and drinks it ". Your body can't take all this."    "And what do you know what my body can bear?" I ask, sitting up on the bed.     He looks at me like he's analyzing me. The truth is that I'm getting nervous to see that he scans me with his eyes.    "Years of experience drinking caffeine." he replies, sitting down in the chair.    "I can handle three cups of caffeine."    "When you can handle eleven, let me know." I looked at him scared and he laughed.     Although he jokes, I notice his tone is a little low. It's not like before. I lower my cup for a moment, looking at him concerned.    "How do you feel?" I asked, already leaving jokes aside.     Jake scratches the back of his neck and I see that he's having a hard time talking to me now.    "For now I want to focus on finding Hannah" he says as he puts his cup down on the table, ", it's the important thing now, Macie, even though I am affected, I ca not stop looking for my sister because of this" He looks into my eyes, determined ". And… It was an accident, although what she did after that is not right, I am not the one to judge her… It's not my job to be her defense attorney. I am just her brother."     I nod slowly. It's hard for me to see it that way. But as he says, I'm not the one to judge. I’m here to help you find it. And it is what I will do.    “Okay then” I sigh, giving him a determined look as well “let's keep looking for Hannah."    “Let's keep looking for Hannah."     We hear the notification sound. I look at the photo they've passed and let out an exasperated sigh. It was a picture of them playing cards. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jessy Sorry Macie We were a bit busy 🤭

 Macie You should always have your phones with you It's really important

 Jessy We do But we were having so much fun that we didn’t hear them Sorry Macie ☹️ won't happen again ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    "Seriously?!" I exclaimed angrily.     “Calm down.” Jake tells me.     "Yeah, sorry..." I sighed.     I think the message from earlier has affected me a bit. It scared me to think that maybe I had found them and that they were in danger. I try to relax a bit. What we are going to tell is not going to be pleasant at all.    "Are you ready, Macie?" Jake asks me, looking at me concerned.    "Yeah..."     Before going to the computer, Jake kisses me on the forehead. It should be me who has to comfort him, not the other way around. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lilly What’s the news, Macie?

 Macie As you can imagine, Hannah's phone is incredibly valuable. Jake and I found a chat between Hannah and Amy. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 I take a breath three times and continue. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Macie This confirms that Hannah really is responsible for Jennifer Hanson’s death ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Jake hasn't said anything on the chat so far. He knows that with him, the group might not believe his words since they treat Jake like the weird guy who talked to Hannah. But Lilly and I know who he is.    "Will they ever get over it?" I ask the air, seeing how they are affected the more I tell them.    “That is their decision” I hear Jake say “, we cannot influence what they feel."    "Yes, you're right..." ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Jessy Hannah told Iris that she was being followed by the man who killed Jennifer But if it was Hannah and Amy…

 Macie I believe Hannah was lying ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 I swallow my comments about Hannah. I don't understand how she could be able to go to Iris's house and lie to her. But I guess when we find her, maybe she'll explain everything and we'll be able to understand why she did what she did and what she was doing in the days before she was kidnapped, what she was planning to do after meeting Iris and wanting to meet Phil. What she wanted to tell the police and what she told Amy. Everything would be resolved when we found her. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Jessy He found out, didn’t he? Michael Hanson found out that they were responsible for his daughter's death ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 I send only one emoji, I dare not confirm it. Perhaps they could also be framing Michael this way. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Lilly No! Thiat can't be true! Hannah would never do something like that! She is empathetic! And honest!

 Jake It was an accident.

 Macie I can understand that this is a lot to take in The truth will get us one step closer to Hannah

 Lilly I need to rest a bit I’m sorry 😔

 Macie Of course, Lilly ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 I hear Jake sigh, blurting out Lilly's name. He is worried about her and how she might have affected her. I’m sure that in these moments they are needed more than ever. I get up from the bed, moving closer to him. I give his loving shoulder a squeeze and he moves back a little, as if inviting me to sit with him. I accept and snuggle into him. He kisses me on the head and sighs again. I can't do anything but offer him company right now. So while we talk in the chat, we are silent, without speaking. Without commenting anything. Sometimes just silence is a good option.

 Dan asks someone to go look for him at the hospital, since they had already kicked him out. Right now. Cleo offers to go look for him.

 We stopped talking when Jake say that he was going to continue unlocking more areas of the phone. I start browsing the forum while I wait for Jake to unlock something else on the phone. I haven't gotten up from him yet and he hasn't kicked me out either. I think it's at this moment that he doesn't want to be alone. A phone area has been unlocked.

As soon as I see it, I leave the forum to go directly to the phone. The gallery area had been unlocked. I start to look at the photos. Hannah even came out smiling, just like everyone said: she was a happy girl. But she was hiding a horrible secret. The worst thing was her seeing Richy's photo. I really don't know what to think anymore. I keep looking and the gallery starts doing weird things, like it's starting to crash.   "What happen?" I ask as I look at my phone confused.   “Macie” I hear Jake call me nervously, and I look at him “, someone's is meddling with Hannah's cell phone right now."    "What?" I'm starting to get nervous too.    "I can see that, apart from your inputs, someone else is making manual inputs."     I sit up, squeezing the phone tightly.    "But we told them that nobody should use Hannah’s phone!"    "Indeed we did" I get up from the chair to let him work and he starts typing quickly ". Every manual input could jeopardize our connection with Hannah's cell phone. The chat logs have just been opened.” I see him look at the screen with increasing nervousness “Macie! You must find out who is responsible for this!"    "I will!"    "Quickly!"     I don't waste a second going straight to the chat. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Macie Alright, who's got Hannah's phone?! This isn’t a joke! Jake can see what you're doing! 😑 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 I wait a bit to see if it has worked. It's amazing. We told them not to touch it! Who could it have been?! This I cannot forgive them.    “The inputs have stopped” Jake leans back, bringing his hands to his face in relief ".Your words had an effect, even if the culprit did not admit to their crime."    "Looks like it" I sit on the bed, also relieved. "Whoever it was won't just admit it."     We fall silent, and I watch Jake think. I wish there was some way to find out who he was.    "I have an idea." He goes back to typing fast and moving the mouse quickly "I managed earlier to gain access to the camera app on Hannah’s cell phone" little by little my change is changing with his words "if the person tampers with the cell phone again, you will now be able to catch the culprit in the act."    "What a great idea!"     Jake smiles, finishing typing.    "Okay, it's done" he says, then looks at me ". You should go and lie in wait, whoever it was may weil soon finish what thay started."    "Good, I’ll open the camera."     I log back into Hannah's phone and select the newly unlocked area. The camera shows a window with the curtains drawn back. I try to take a photo to see if it works well.

I get a text from Lilly asking if Jake and I have a minute. It was when they still lived with their parents. One night she saw Hannah looking out the window in the middle of the night. Towards the forest. Apparently, when she asked what she was doing there, Hannah told her something terrifying: ‘There’s a man standing by the forest'. Lilly couldn't see anyone, and that she woke up her parents crying that they didn't see anything either. She doesn't remember exactly when it went. It  happened again, but in the end she no longer paid attention to her out of fear. I'm beginning to suspect that there is no such thing as a stalker and that the doctor was right: it was all Hannah's imagination. Created by guilt. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Jake Macie, do you remember the words of the psychiatrist?

 Macie Yes, of course

 Lilly Jake? I don’t really know what you mean 😕

 Jake My apologies Here is the audio file again: ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 He sends her the audio, but we don't need to listen to it again, we know it well. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Jake '’He was standing in the forest, watching us.''

 Lilly Watching them doing what?

 Macie I think I know... Watching them bury Jennifer's body in the forest

 Lilly My goodness

 Macie Sorry 😕 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 It's hard for me to talk about this with them. I feel a bit intrusive in this delicate family matter. But I do it for the research. I mustn’t put my feelings. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Jake Yes. I think you're right about that. Jennifer's body was found deep in the forest od Duskwood. Iris Hanson had told Jessica that Jennifer had been run over on the outskirts of Duskwood. And the vehicle’s driver wanted to mask their crime by taking the body from the crash site. We can assume No, we must assume unfortunately. That Hannah and Amy took Jennifer to the forest, so they could bury her body.

 Macie And they were being watched

 Lilly No wait But Michael Hanson is the culprit He wouldn’t watch his daughter being buried in the forest and not intervene.

 Macie And what if they were being watched by someone else back then? That would be a lot more realistic ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    There was a third person that night, I'm sure. And that person was perhaps transformed in her mind as if he were the man without a face.    "That could be" I hear Jake saying, as he types it in the chat ". We still seem to be missing important information in order for us to understand the case in its entirety."    "The question is, did he tell Michael or is he our real author?" I tell him, thinking.    "But the theory keeps failing," he looks at me doubtfully ", so Michael would have gone after them if someone had told him."     I want to understand the reasons why he was there. Was the secret kept until he told Michael? Did he participate in what happened and that's why he also went after him? He's taking the law into his own hand and Michael doesn't know about it? What is he hiding?

 I ask Lilly if she had touched Hannah's phone, but she doesn't seem to know anything. We finish our conversation with her and I listen to Jake give one of her theories.    "Amy suspected the pills to be the reason why Hannah saw the man without a face." I look at him, paying attention to Hannah and Amy's chat. He also had open several windows of photos of Michael's mural. "Perhaps the pills were, however not the reason why the man without a face turned up... But instead the reason why disappeared. "     The pills were to stop her from seeing him. She had hallucinations because of guilt. What better than to use fairly, the legend of a man who comes for people who have sinned?

  I stare at the camera, waiting for someone to show up. I receive another message from the stranger. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Unknown You won’t stop interfering until I’ve killed them all

Hannah I know who you are You can still give up ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 I wait a bit for him to answer me, but nothing. I want to try to make him come to his senses and talk to me. He continues with this game and I still don't understand why he is involved in this. Who else could provide them with the car?

 I return to the camera and I find the culprit of why they were interrupting our phone.

*Jake POV*

I'm thinking about what Macie said. Someone else saw Hannah and Amy. Someone who was not Michael. But perhaps it was the guilt at that moment of seeing another person and imagining the man without a face watching them bury Jennifer. Then Michael, after years of research, managed to find them while he pointed to the rest of the group. And that unfortunately, after getting into this, Richy fell victim. I remember at first having a suspicion in one of them, but after what happened, I had to rule it out.    "Jake!" I hear Macie yell and she walks over to me, showing me the cell phone.     I see the photo of Thomas, looking shocked after being caught looking at the cell phone.    “Thomas…” I say in an annoyed tone. Honestly, I do not know why I should be surprised at this point anymore.    "Thomas!" Macie exclaims, flustered ". That’s the second time he’s ignored our rules for Hannah's phone!"     I look at the contact with the cell phone on the computer. I put my hands to my head, helpless for what happened.    “We have lost the connection to Hannah's cell phone” I try not to sound annoyed. She had is enough already ". Just as I feared."    "Why hasn't he been able to stay still?!" I look at Macie. She is upset.    "Macie, calm down."    "No, Jake! I can’t stay calm!" She screams upset and I get up to her "It's your sister's phone! It is what can lead us to her! And he-… Damn…"     I see her eyes start to shine, as if she wants to cry. I place my hands on her cheeks, caressing her slowly. I should not have told her that this phone was very important, now I feel guilty seeing this reaction.    "Macie, calm down, you know I can fix it." I try to calm her down. Now she is the one who is angry with Thomas.    "But Jake, it's Hannah's phone-"    "I know... I know..." I see her look away from me and I force her to look at me, slowly "Hey... Look at me... It is not your fault..."    "But I was in charge of the phone… I didn't get there on time and he messed it up… Jake, I'm sorry… I'm really sorry…"    "Do not worry, breath calmly."     She try to imitate me. I can see how angry she is. Little by little she is relaxing. Without looking away from my eyes.

 Once calmed down, we stayed silent, looking at each other.    "Okay... I'm better now..." she says a little calmer "I'll talk to him."   "Yes, you should." Because if I did, I don't think I be so nice.

 I return to the computer while she leaves with her the phone. From time to time I hear her throw the odd curse under her breath.

 I try to focus on the cell phone that Thomas has screwed up… again always poking around where he shouldn't. As I fix it, I'm also looking at the tests we have so far, worrying about the situation. A fear begins to run through my body when I see the photo of Amy's news image. I like to think that Hannah is still alive because she was held captive by Michael. I do not want to think that perhaps by meddling where she should not, he caused her death, that by meddling with Macie, he changed his plans and killed her. I could not live with the guilt. And I for putting her in and for not being able to do anything to help her.

 I cannot stop looking at the photos of the mural. Hannah's guilty name in that designated place. Justice should not be dispensed this way. Although I am the least suitable to talk about how a crime should be committed. I put the photo of Hannah aside, making a list of questions I want to ask her when she finds her… If that…    "Jake?" I listen behind me and continue to stare at the computer. "You've been suspecting that Hannah is dead for a while now, haven't you?" I stop writing, looking at the photo of her. I do not know what Michael is capable of since we found out about the body, but I want to think that there is still hope. "You don’t even have to answer that" I listen to her carefully and I hear that she is approaching slowly ". I just want you to know, something" her words sound soft, as if she had already prepared them, I do not notice that she is nervous "Jake... I want to be there for you" I turn around slowly after listening to her. Her smile is warm. Her position makes the afternoon light that peeks through the cracks in the blinds illuminate her, making her look like a celestial being. Someone pure ", even if it's difficult. I don't care… I never will."    I leave the computer for a moment and approach her. I caress her face carefully, until I lower my hand to her back, to attract her so I can hug her. Macie hugs me back hard, grabbing my sweatshirt. I also want to be next to her.    "Thank you Macie..."

Chapter 37

[missywritesfor7]

🌙Moon’s Light | JJK🌙

Synopsis: Luna is a young paralegal trying to maintain her new found independence and enjoy life. Too bad her job sucks and her boss is the worst. As if that wasn’t bad enough, she encounters a vampire named Jungkook who changes her life in more ways than one.

Jungkook is a shield and protector of the vampire kingdom of Korealis. He’s trained his entire life to block out any and all distractions and focus solely on becoming the strongest. While investigating a potential threat to the kingdom, he encounters Luna who turns out to be more than he could have ever imagined. It becomes his job to protect her, but he can’t tell if what he’s feeling is his devotion to the job or perhaps something deeper.

Secrets are uncovered. Lives are on the line. Hearts are tested.

Pairing: Vampire!Jungkook x Fem!OC

Warnings: Violence, character death, eventual smut, tragedy, some angst, strong language, MINORS DNI

Previous chapter | Next chapter | Masterlist

|| Ch. 16: The Park Family ||

Everyone is in the sparring room and appear to be relieved to see that Luna is awake and aside from minor weakness, she’s doing ok. For now at least. She doesn’t know if that vision she saw was real or some sort of dream, but it scares her. Two weeks isn’t a lot of time at all.

Everyone begins discussing the prisoner they caught the night Luna passed out. They have him locked up on the crime of using an unauthorized portal, and have been pressuring him to give information about Saakhan Venom. So far all he’s said is that Luna’s boss, Choi Yeonjun, is in charge of scouting recruits on earth. When he finds someone he thinks would be a good addition to the crime syndicate he orders the people under him to make their move. They get taken to headquarters and sent through training in preparation for what they call “Judgement Day”. Though Yeonjun isn’t the head of SV, he’s still a high ranking member with a lot of power.

As the guys continue discussing, Luna begins to zone out. She knows she should probably pay attention to what they’re saying, but she can’t get over the image that flashed in her mind. She only has 2 weeks. What kind of time frame is that to decide whether to live in a whole new world or die?

“How much time do I have left?” Luna asks interrupting their conversation.

“Luna,” Jimin says softly.

“I need to know how much time I have before I die.”

Everyone looks at each other except Jungkook. He looks to the ground wishing he didn’t have to deal with this. Deal with her learning that she doesn’t have much time. Deal with him accepting that she doesn’t have much time.

“It’s hard to say for sure,” Yoongi says taking on the task of explaining it to her. “That guy did a good amount of damage. Along with your ability being too much for you, you dont have long before your human side gives in. My guess is…you have about 2 weeks. But, if anyone else goes through you there’s no telling how much time it will take off your life.”

“Is there nothing else I can do?” She asks not bothering to hide the fear in her voice.

“If there is,” Yoongi answers. “It would likely take us more than 2 weeks to figure it out. There’s never been anyone like you before, we just don’t have the knowledge on how to fix this while saving your life. You simply can’t be human any longer. Wouldn’t converting be better than death?”

Of course converting would be better than death. Anything would be better than death. However, Luna can’t seem to convince herself to make that move. Sure everything she had back home is gone, but it’s still home. What could she do here in Korealis? This unfamiliar place that she’s barely even seen outside of the palace and the lab.

“But there has to be another way, right?” She asks desperately seeking a solution. “What if you can figure it out before then?”

“Are you really willing to risk it?” Namjoon asks. “I mean we don’t even know how you got this way. Your parents are long gone and whoever went after your mom to try converting her is who knows where. We wouldn’t even know where to begin to find that needle in a haystack.”

“Park Hyungwon,” Luna says. The name of her birth mom’s agent who she’s convinced is either the one who killed her parents or at least orchestrated the whole attack. Either way, she can’t forget that name. He’s involved somehow and maybe finding him could give her some answers.

Everyone looks around at each other, then at Jimin who looks both shocked and confused.

“How do you know about Hyungwon?” Jimin asks.

“I was reading my mom’s diary,” Luna says. “She mentioned him up until the very end. I think he may be the one who killed her, or at least he has something to do with her being killed.”

“It can’t be,” Hoseok says looking at Jimin. “Can it?”

“No,” Jimin says looking at the floor in thought. “Hyungwon died from the plague that killed the rest of the family.”

“You’re related to him?” Luna asks.

“Not by choice, of course,” Jimin sighs. “His story is similar to mine. His father was closer in line to the throne than my father, but Hyungwon was also born to a woman who wasn’t married to his father. Because of that he was not allowed to hold his place in line for the throne. The way he was treated his whole life is why my father chose to keep me a secret. I may have only gotten to meet him as he was nearing the end of his life, but I’m grateful he gave me the chance to grow up normal. I never resented him for it, but Hyungwon resented everyone in the family. He wanted revenge and he wanted the throne. But then he died with everyone else. Sure, he was the very last one to die and by then the Kim’s had already taken over, but he’s still dead. So that was the end of that.”

“Jimin,” Luna says in disbelief. “There’s no way he’s dead. At least he wasn’t 25 years ago. It doesn’t make sense.”

“The plague,” Jimin says. “I know it took him. He’s been gone. The whole family has been gone.”

“Jimin, you’re still here though!” Luna says grabbing his shoulders. “Why would everyone else in the family die from the plague and not you?”

“Well there was that rumor,” Jin says.

“What rumor?”

“When the family started to all get sick people thought it was Hyungwon trying to get revenge. But then he was gone too and that was it. However, the rumors kept getting spread over the years. It’s like a fable that kids tell, but no one knows if there’s truth behind it.”

“He could be hiding!” Luna shouts as the lightbulb in her head flashes. “What if he’s hiding amongst the humans at home and that’s how he met my mom! He has to be out there still!”

“Luna,” Jimin says. “I know you want to find some other solution, but-“

“Think about it, Jiminie!” She shouts still clutching his shoulders and catching a glare from Jungkook. “Why would you still be the only one alive if everyone else in your family got sick? He’s not trying to kill you, you’re just like him so he doesn’t resent you!”

It happens again. She sees an image flash in her mind. Jimin talking to a man who’s laying in bed.

“I wish I had more time to tell you everything,” the man says. “I had envisioned one day getting to tell you everything. One day when it would no longer be an issue for me to speak with you. I’m sorry that it has to be like this.”

“But why?” Jimin asks.

“Hyungwon,” the man whispers. “Your mother can tell you all about him. Just…don’t let him know who you are if you ever cross paths with him.”

The vision fades and Luna is looking deeply into Jimin’s eyes. She can see his pupils shaking. Was that real? Did he see the same thing she just saw?

“You know something, don’t you?” Luna asks.

“N-no,” Jimin stutters. “I thought he was dead so I never thought much about anything I’ve been told about him.”

“But you knew he was possibly responsible?” She says seeing right through him. “You knew that he couldn’t know who you are, right?”

“How?” Jimin whispers.

“I think…I can see things.”

“What?” Jungkook asks as everyone looks on confused.

“You can see?” Jimin asks.

Luna nods. Everyone else is still confused, but Jimin can see that she definitely saw what he saw. She saw his memory and he knows she’s right.

“How can we find him?” Luna asks.

“I don’t really know,” Jimin says. “He could be anywhere.”

“But he can’t be too far, right? If the portal and Yeonjun are in the same area he can’t be far.”

“Where would we even start? Searching that area alone could take a while.”

“He’s an agent. At least he was when my mom met him. Maybe he still is! If I could go back-“

“No!” Jungkook quickly interjects. “If anything needs to be done we’ll do it, but you’re not going back there.”

“It wouldn’t be long,” she pleads. “I’m sure I could find him online or something.”

“We’ll take care of that,” Namjoon says. “We can plan something out and check it out ourselves, but for now you don’t need to be out of Jungkook, or any one of our sights.”

“Fine,” she reluctantly agrees. “Is there a way I can communicate with you guys while you’re there?”

“No,” Jungkook says. “If we have to make multiple trips then that’s fine, but I still think this is all a big risk. If we spend however much time on this and run out of time, what will you do? Just drop dead and that’s it?”

“I have faith in you guys!”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence,” Namjoon chuckles. “But Jungkookie is right. What happens if time runs out? You still have to make a choice.”

“I will. I’ll make a choice if I have no more time left. But right now I think you guys could find him and find another solution.” Luna is desperate. It’s almost unreasonable, definitely unreasonable, but she doesn’t care, she’s just trying to save the “normal” life she’d been used to living for 25 years.

“LuLu,” Jungkook says.

“Luna,” Luna mumbles.

“Can you stop being stubborn for one second and realize that you’re playing with life and death.”

“I’m not the stubborn one, bunny boy!” She hisses. “I’m just trying to come up with a solution. Isn’t that what we’re all trying to do?”

“We already had a solution, you’re just being a pain in the ass and won’t accept it.”

“The only pain in the ass is the demon who left me alone all night after I woke up from a 3 day coma!”

“I’m not a demon, you one eyed freak!”

“I’ll show you a freak!” She shouts weakly hitting his arm.

“Yeah, a weak freak,” he giggles.

“It never ends with you two!” Jin shouts bringing them out of yet another bout of bickering. “Give us everything you have on Hyungwon and we’ll start searching for him. In the meantime, you two stay out of trouble.”

“I’m going too, right?” Jungkook asks.

“Your main task is keeping an eye on her.”

“Hyung please. Let me go with you guys. I need to do…something.”

“Show her around town then,” Jin says waving him off.

“That’s not what I meant,” Jungkook pouts.

“But that’s what I ordered you to do.” Jin doesn’t often pull rank when he’s talking to them, but when he does there’s no arguing. His word is law.

In reality, everyone has been able to sense the change in Jungkook. They know his focus has been off lately and only gets worse the longer Luna fights trying to prolong the inevitable. He takes everything too hard, so everyone thought it’d be best to keep him away from potential combat for now. Hoseok tried pleading on Jungkook’s behalf knowing how much it would kill him to not be involved with any of the action. But even he couldn’t deny that Jungkook needs time to sort himself out.

Jungkook hates the idea of staying behind while everyone else goes out. He hates feeling like a failure. And he hates feeling like he’s being punished. He’s tried with everything in him to be better but now it’s like progress is going backwards.

What’s worse is he can’t help but feel a bit of resentment towards Luna. He wasn’t this mixed up until she came along. He isn’t sure what he actually feels for her, but he knows it’s getting in the way of everything. He’s a shield first and foremost and he can’t get himself caught up in such trivial bullshit.

But still, one “Jungkookie” from her and he’s frozen in place. His heart flutters and his mind rages. Fuck her. Fuck her “Jungkookie”. And especially fuck her “Jiminie”. Because what the fuck kind of game is she trying to play by calling Jimin that?

“Jungkookie?” Luna repeats from his bed.

They had returned to his room and he’s been stuck in his mind on the couch ever since. The guys took Luna’s mom’s diary and headed off to look for Park Hyungwon.

“That’s demon bunny to you,” he says. Though even that nickname makes his chest swell. The fuck is wrong with him?

“Ok then, demon bunny,” she chuckles. “Are we just going to stay here all day everyday?”

“You don’t like my room?”

“It’s not that, I’m just a little tired of looking at it.”

“You’re free to go exploring if you’d like.”

“I can’t go out alone, and you don’t seem to be in the mood to do much of anything.”

“What gives you that impression?”

“The constant look of displeasure on your face,” she says walking over to him.

“Fine,” he sighs. “Where do you want to go?”

“I don’t know, I’m not from here remember.”

“I have to do everything for you,” he says half joking. “Let’s go.”

He gets up and guides her out the door. He’s trying his hardest to keep his tough exterior up. Maybe if he’s a douchebag enough she’ll hate him entirely and make things easier for him. But it’s not easy. His cheeky smirk betrays him when he tries to tell her he’s tired of babysitting her. His fond smile when she talks about how she used to go for walks with her mom and have a picnic makes his hard demeanor turn soft.

Luna is in awe at all the things around the city. It almost reminds her of home. The streets lined with various shops, and gorgeous parks where kids play and others simply go to hang out. The constant darkness does nothing to diminish the beauty of the kingdom. If anything it somehow enhances it. It’s like nothing she’s ever seen before.

Jungkook sees this as an opportunity to convince her to convert. If she sees that being here isn’t so bad she may change her mind, and hopefully soon.

“We should get something to eat,” he says as Luna is still in awe at everything around her.

“What do you guys eat?” She asks.

“Blood.”

“Oh…”

“I’m kidding,” he laughs. “Our stuff may be a bit different than you’re used to because we use blood the way humans use water. But it’s all the same to me.”

“Do you think I’ll like it?”

“Maybe,” he shrugs. “I’ll take you to one of my favorite places. How do you feel about fried chicken?”

“Spicy?” She asks in excitement.

“If that’s what you want,” he smiles endeared by her enthusiasm.

“Yes! I haven’t had fried chicken in forever! Take me now!”

“Geez, you don’t know how to say please? You humans are so rude.”

“I’ll show you rude!” She says hitting his arm.

“Hit me again and you won’t get anything except expired blood.”

“Sorry, Jungkookie,” she teases making him cringe from the conflict his mind goes through every time she does that.

“Shut up and come on,” he says grabbing her arm and practically dragging her down the street.

They arrive at a small chicken restaurant and order an assortment of flavors. Luna decides to try a blood infused soda. If she’s going to have to be here a while she would like to at least find a blood drink that tastes better than just plain blood.

“How is it?” Jungkook asks as she takes a sip.

“It’s different, but not bad,” she says. “This looks like the restaurants back home. I didn’t know you guys had all of this in the city.”

“I told you it wouldn’t be much different. Everything is pretty much the same.”

The waiter brings their food and Luna’s jaw drops. It all looks and smells amazing. Jungkook smiles at the way she looks at the food. She’s cute, although he’s having a hard time accepting that he feels that way.

“Try it,” he says.

She grabs a piece of chicken taking a moment to inspect it before taking a bite. She’s delighted at the taste. It tastes great, almost better than anything she’s ever had at home.

“Kookie this is amazing!” She says taking another mouthful.

“I umm…yeah. I’m glad you like it,” he sputters shoving chicken into his own mouth. He hates when she does that.

“I’m sorry,” she says noticing the shift in his pupils. “I forgot you don’t like me calling you that.”

“That’s not really what I said.” That’s what he meant, however a small but strong part of him doesn’t want her to stop calling him any of the nicknames she calls him, especially Kookie.

“You seem bothered by it though.”

“No, it’s just…no one really calls me that. It just catches me off guard.”

“Oh,” she pauses looking down at her plate. “But…it still bothers you, doesn’t it?”

How would she know that? Did he give himself away somehow?

“No,” he lies. “It just catches me off guard like I said.”

“Do I bother you at all? I mean, I know you’re a shield and all, but sometimes I feel like I’m in the way of things or like, a distraction or something.”

What she really wants to say is she knows he tries to hide his feelings. She knows he’s been training his whole life to keep his emotions from getting the best of him. And she heard him talking before she woke up.

“What makes you think that?” He asks raising a brow.

“Just a feeling, I guess,” she shrugs.

He can tell she’s lying. Did she hear him talking to someone? She couldn’t have, he’s only talked to his mom about her.

“Can I ask you something, LuLu?” He asks.

“Only if you learn my name,” she says rolling her eyes.

“Earlier you told Jimin you could see things. What did you see?”

“Oh…nothing,” she lies. “I guess I just kind of felt a vibe from him.”

“A vibe that told you he knows to stay away from Hyungwon?” Jungkook asks quickly breaking her lie.

“Something like that,” she doubles down shoving a piece of chicken in her mouth.

“What are you hiding?” He asks suspiciously.

“Nothing.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“Can’t I just eat in peace?”

“Who’s paying for this meal??”

“Ugh!” She huffs. “Look, I don’t know what it was, I just saw a flash of something when I was talking to Jiminie.”

“Jiminie?” He asked more irritated by the nickname than he is about her hiding things from him. “Since when do you call him that?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugs. “It just rolls off the tongue nicely I guess.”

“What does that even mean?”

“Does it matter? He didn’t seem to have a problem with me calling him that. Unlike someone who lets everyone else call him by a cute nickname but he has a problem when I do it.”

“That’s not what I said,” he huffs. “That’s besides the point. What did you see?”

“I don’t know,” she sighs. “I just saw a flash of his dad telling him to stay away from Hyungwon.”

“How?”

“I don’t know! It just happened.”

“Has it happened before?”

“No,” she answers too quickly. The last thing she wants is for him to know that she’s seen his memories too. He has such a tough wall built up that his memories seem to be the only way she can truly understand where he’s coming from.

“This was the first time?” He raises his brow.

“Yeah,” she says finishing off her last piece of chicken.

Jungkook isn’t convinced that she’s telling him the whole truth. He can tell she’s still hiding something. He wants to press her further, but for some reason the question that comes out of his mouth isn’t the one he meant to ask out loud.

“Do you have a thing for Jimin?”

“What?” Luna asks confused.

Jungkook is stunned by his own words. He sits frozen a moment trying to find a way to dig himself out of this. He meant to ask her more about her vision. Now he’s internally kicking himself.

“I mean, you seem like you have a soft spot for him,” he says rubbing the back of his neck.

“Oh,” she says still confused. “He’s been really nice and sweet since I met him. I guess I do have a soft spot for him. He’s an angel.”

“An angel,” Jungkook says fighting the rising saltiness in his tone. “How is he an angel, but I’m a demon even though I’ve done so much more for you than he has?”

“You stalked me!”

“It was surveillance!”

“And you broke into my apartment! Twice!”

“I saved your raggedy ass toaster from setting the whole place on fire! I still haven’t gotten a thank you for that you ungrateful mutt!”

“I’ll show you a mutt, you deer bunny devil spawn!”

“What are you going to do? Hit me with your weak little hands?” He teases.

“Ugh! You’re such a fucking pain!”

“I know,” he smirks throwing some money on the table. “Now let’s go, my little one eyed freak.”

“You asshole!” She shouts while constantly hitting him all the way out the door.

He stops on the sidewalk and glances at her as she continues focusing what little energy she has on hitting his arm over and over. Why is this endearing to him? Why does he think she looks so cute when he pushes her buttons to the point of her trying to hurt him? She’s adorable to him. And he hates that. He can’t feel the way he feels about her. It’s only going to continue to make things hard for him.

“I fucking hate you!” Luna shouts still hitting him.

“Good.”

[stevenbasic]

Growing into the Job, Post 382: Lawyers!

“Someone call Sheryl,” was the last thing Randi said as she left the room with Amelia, Stephanie and Julia, leaving Josie and Marisela to finish up with the news lady. The photoshoot was basically done, anyway, and the four of them would handle these lawyers whose arrival Aubrey had just announced. It was a surprise to everyone, and not a pleasant one. Just the word: ‘lawyers’:  Ick. What the fuck, Randi fumed, What could they want?

In the meantime, she’d asked Lakshmi and Shanette to get Dr. J to Melissa. He was whisked away quickly, and soon found himself standing, in his silly little-boy’s suit, facing his giant young girlfriend in her huge, immaculately modern office. The two other girls hovered near the entrance, listening down the hall through the open door.

“We have some visitors, huh?” Melissa purred, from where she’d been sitting on her office couch. If tensions filled the air, none of it was in her voice. White leather creaked pleasurably below her, and she appeared relaxed, bare of foot and curled up with her laptop. She looked, of course, beautiful, and certainly unperturbed. “Aubrey tells me they’re here with a lot of paperwork, and are being really demanding.” She looked at her boyfriend, standing adorably nervous about ten feet away. He seemed delightfully unsure of himself. “They want to meet with whoever's in charge.”

“Well, I, uh-” Dr J fidgeted in place as he looked at the ground. He was suddenly feeling even more out of place, out of sorts, and so far out of his comfort zone that his head began to spin. D-do they mean m-?

“Shhhhh, don’t worry, honey,” Melissa continued confidently, “I’ve got this. Can you pass me my heels?” At that she nodded at the pair of what-must-be eight-inch stilettos, black, standing just off to his right.

“S-sure,” he replied, gathering them and handing them to her. He felt ashamed that he was afraid of these outsiders and needing her to handle it. 

“I think they are coming,” Lakshmi said, from the doorway.

“They’re definitely coming,” agreed Shanette, standing aside.

Melissa was putting on her heels, casually. She remained seated.

The lawyers’ voices preceded them, gruffly, echoing down clinic halls. To Dr. J they seemed obnoxious, improper, and more out of place here than even he. Girls’ voices were mixed in, argumentative. They were all headed this way, a small crowd.

At the door to Melissa’s office, Shanette moved to stop them. “Excuse me who are-”

“We’re told you’re Dr. J,” said the first one, a half-shaven man in his early thirties pushing right past Shanette. His glasses were obviously fake. Two others followed in his wake, also blatantly uninvited. Each of them were younger still, and all carried mounds of papers, folders, notebooks. In tow, roughly ten feet behind was a uniformed police officer, also male though gray of hair. Pudgy, he remained quiet.

Shanette and Lakshmi stood with gaping mouths to their right and left. Before they could say anything, Randi. Amelia, Stephanie, and Julia stepped in behind the three intruders and their armed accomplice.

“We tried to stop them, Missy,” Randi groaned.

“...but they’re assholes,” finished Amelia. 

“Doctor,” the lead lawyer began, “I’m Attorney Feinman, this is my partner Attorney Howard, and our, uh, other Attorney, Attorney Wardell. And this is Officer Healy.”

Shanette and Lakshmi moved beside Dr. J and their hands went to his shoulders protectively. 

“G’Afternoon, ladies,” burped the policeman, shifting on his feet uncomfortably 

“We have warrants, for a search and seizure, Doctor,” continued the lawyer, “and would like you to come with us.”

An overhead light flickered.

“You w-want who to do what?” Dr. J stammered.

“Wait a second,” Julia chimed in as she moved into the room, “you can’t just-”

Angie stepped into the office, last to arrive into the chaos.

“Yeah who-” began Stephanie, also now flanking the three men. She was one of the first to smell it, the change in the air. She felt her musculature begin to respond, under her pretty blouse and smart pencil skirt. Her shoes became tight. 

“You can read the paperwork yourself,” came the voice of the second lawyer, a darker guy with an unfortunate beard and black, beady eyes, “signed by a judge of a state court of, uh, record in the district…” He’d already begun to rifle through a sheaf of documents in his arms. 

“Yeah we got it all done yesterday,” said the third.

None of the men had yet vocally acknowledged the obviously impressive young woman sitting on the couch. The police officer, though, had started to stare. Wow what a looker. He’d been told to be careful of that one, that she could pose a physical threat. What he didn't realize, though, was that she was already, quietly, starting to release something from her skin. Instinctively, but also partly on command they came, her pheromones: some for these little man-things, a particular combination, and others for her girls.

They’re not paying attention to me on purpose, these silly things, Melissa realized. She cocked her head. Let’s change that. 

“I see you have some papers, and it sounds like you want to stop us from, like, taking care of our patients,” Melissa said, finally addressing the new men in the room for the first time. Her voice, though no louder than any of the others, suddenly became the only sound in her office. She fought back a smile as all the attention in the room was now immediately focused on her. “Now that’s not nice, is it?”

“No, it’s not,” came Randi, her voice a smoky concurrence.

“Not nice at all,” other voices hissed in harmony. Bodies inched in.

The lawyers, in their hundred-dollar suits, shivered in secret silence. Skin crawled and, for the love of god, their dicks began to harden. But Attorney Fineman, after a moment, was finally able to compose himself and push on. He’d been warned about this and he was beginning to think maybe they should have worn those gas masks like his shadow contact ANDRSON had suggested. With a slight stutter he began his legal speil followed quickly by the two other attorneys. They clamored on about their papers, their injunctions, their restraining orders. Their zeal, though, seemed somehow tempered diminished. But they proceeded to list what they had as evidence of human rights abuses, zoning infractions and environmental c-complaints and…well, uh…

Attorney Lou Fineman, an activist who had taken up with the Resistance more than a year ago and coordinated today’s intervention with ANDRSON and his cell, felt his voice begin to fail. These plans were months in the making, and already he felt their foundations began to shiver. His partners had grown quiet already. The cop hadn’t moved a muscle, still standing back.

From her seat on the couch Melissa watched the lawyer, and began to smile.

He has a job, yes, and he has a fancy degree, that too, she thought, training she’d had at Evolution kicking into gear. Unconsciously she began analyzing him and his little team, silently gauging their threat level. But the man is weak, all three of them are. Melissa pursed her lips and studied them again. She knew, if she wanted, she could lift the lot of them up by their collars and throw them out the window. Or, haha, she could ask her girls to tear them limb-from-limb. They’d probably do it, if she asked nicely. Some of them might even enjoy it, and the men would rip like paper dolls. But it wasn’t just their physical bodies that made them inferior to the budding superhumans filling the room. Melissa was always a good judge of people, and these days it was like she could see right into them. These men lack the - what would you call it? -  ‘strength of personality’ - to do what they’re trying to do, she continued to muse, but the good thing is, I’ve got enough of that for everyone. She knew she already had the force of presence to fill up a room, even a big one like her office. Her personality, like the rest of her, just kept getting bigger and stronger. 

“So w-we’ll be taking the doctor with us,” an attorney said trying his best to muster a sense of authority, “F-for his own protecti-“

“I can’t let you do that,” she spoke, plainly, her voice a dormant power unto itself that immediately quieted the man, “You won’t take Jay away from me.” The pheromones that had already begun to amplify the aggression and protective nature of her girls began to redouble, pour from her skin.

Lakshmi, to her side, growled. She felt something about herself grow heavier. 

The lawyers’ accusations began to devolve into nervous babbling as the pheromones began to overtake them. Their argument of authority sounded more like pleading as they continued to threaten to take Dr. J into their custody. “Th-the law,” began the third attorney, “s-says we can take him for his own safety. It says right here in this statute…”

The girls each inched inwards. Unseen, Amelia’s nails became sharper, longer. Marisela ran her tongue over her emerging eye teeth. The attorneys slowly began to realize they were surrounded. Randi sniffed the air - fear - and flexed her jaw. 

But the men foolishly pressed on. “So unless there’s something here more powerful than the law…” That was all Melissa needed. More powerful than the law? she laughed to herself, Let’s see what you think. Enormous high heels now on, she put her hands on her knees and began, slowly, to stand...

The three lawyers, side-by-side in front of her, watched. As did all other eyes in the room.

Though pheromones that would be recognized as chemical weapons poured off her, it was the mere sight of Melissa rising to her full height that nearly made the mens’ hearts stop. Up and up she rose, until she towered over every man in the room by more than a foot, and they began to visibly quiver. 

Now that she was 6´8”, and well over seven feet in these heels she knew the effect her size could have on others. Becoming taller had granted her with much more than just a desirable body. It’d begun to garner her respect, make others see her as their superior. She'd become an imposing woman, and she was still growing. As they’d told her at Evolution, it looked like she was just getting bigger and bigger, faster and faster every day. The thought of it - even here, among these enemies - made her tingle. With her height, her strength and beauty, her new position and her growing wealth? Everyone, crane your necks, look up at me. The imposing Amazon stands above you all.

“Holy shit,” Josie gasped, with a laugh. 

“G-g-good lord…” stammered one of the little men.

“Look at the s-s-size of her…” marveled another.

The cop’s hand, reflexively, went to his weapon.

Melissa had stood from the couch, letting them see she was not just a woman. No, she towered over them like something divine among toys, and she felt it. “Want to see something ‘more powerful' than the law?” she spoke in a voice now two octaves deeper, its arcane energy making the windows tremble. Under her smart business clothes, under her plain gray blouse she felt her muscles swell. She leaned into it,  flexing her traps and shoulders and lats and now fighting back the urge to go into full double-biceps pose. I could burst out of this blouse like it was tissue paper if I wanted. She could feel herself brimming with untapped power, and as she looked down at the little men quaking in their pants, energy crackled in the room. A knowing smirk crossed her face as she watched her girls slowly close in. 

She looked to her left, where Jay stood, silent and trembling. He was looking at her too, in similar awe. Good, she thought, I want him to see this. 

“Jay, come,” she commanded, beckoning him closer with an outstretched hand. In a moment he was quietly by her side, standing behind. If I was wearing a skirt, she almost giggled, he’d be clutching it. Or hiding beneath.  Her perfumes had already done their work absolutely drowning the men in a sea of submission, but she couldn't resist the urge to release a little more.

“Drop the weapon,” she commanded next, and the room heard a gun clatter to the floor. It had been drawn by Officer Healy’s shaking hands, but now lay useless.

The lawyers began cowering, and as the giant woman took one step towards them, the smallest of them could be heard to yelp.

Graciously, she offered out her hand. 

“I’m Melissa, by the way,” she began, as the lead attorney’s hand automatically rose up to meet hers, “Melissa Monroe, Office Manager.” She took his hand, and just stood there, feeling the fragile bones in her grasp. She smiled, pondering if she should strengthen her grip and mangle his hand - not just a little, but completely break it into a pulp, into a useless pulp. For his misbehavior. Ahh, but you’ll want to jerk off to me later, won’t you? she considered, smiling to herself, And maybe you’re a righty. 

The second lawyer dropped his papers, which fell to the floor in a fluttering wave. Melissa now looked his way, and saw that his mind was more on the underside of her breasts than where they should be, on the papers now scattered around the floor. Her smile curled. It didn’t bother her, that he was fixated on her tits, as long as it distracted him. Actually, Melissa rather liked the attention that her body brought her. As long as no one tried to touch, they were free to enjoy. And stare. And remember what they saw for later. 

“Why don’t you drop your papers, too?” Melissa suggested coyly eyeing the third lawyer who, after a short pause, felt compelled to do the same. They all watched as his pile of yellow legal files fell in a spreading puddle at his feet, leaving him with nothing to do but stare. 

Dr. J, from behind his girlfriend's huge thigh, her muscular rear, looked on in a mix of thrill and horror. What is she doing with her voice? She's commanding them like they’re puppets. The power in her - goddamn it, how submissive was he? - excited him darkly, and he groaned as his cock surged for her. 

Melissa was giggling. The other girls began to giggle too. There was so much the swarm of them could do right now…

But suddenly, there were even more women in the room...

Five young women had entered, holding their own briefcases, carrying their own paperwork. Blonde. Each was smartly dressed and strangely similar. Dr. J’s eyes widened; he felt he recognized them all. They were younger but he could see  it right away: it was like the attack of the Sheryl’s. 

“We’re going to have to ask you gentlemen to leave,” spoke the lead of this new team of attorneys. 

===================================

thanks to ElephantPorn for the images, and RiF for all his help editing

[aeoki]

Phantom Airship - So I Raced Through The Sky: Chapter 9

Location: Ancient Ruins Characters: Ritsu, Hiiro, Aira & Tatsumi

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ< Ten minutes later. >

Mayoi: ………….

Ritsu: “Being immovable like a mountain, huh.”

“In actuality, you don’t intend on budging at all, do you? It’s not a bad idea to wait for your friends to arrive.”

“But even if they do come, someone has to put their life at risk in the end, you know?”

“You’ll leave the troublesome tasks to someone else and you’ll hide behind them – I think it’s questionable that you’d still call yourselves friends despite that.”

Mayoi: T-That’s not what I’m intending to do at all…

Uuu, but objectively speaking, it’s the same, huh. There hasn’t really been anything that I’ve ever done for “ALKALOID”.

As long as I wait patiently, they’ll come and save me. It’s no wonder why I’d end up with those selfish thoughts.

Ritsu: “...*Sighs* I didn’t think the hero candidate that appeared before me would have such low self-esteem.”

“You might be fine knowing the people around you accept that part of your personality, but you might get abandoned one day, you know?”

Mayoi: I–I’m aware of that.

But I can’t be positive in this situation and I don’t know what I should do…

Please tell me. How can I summon the courage to take on this trial?

Ritsu: “Dunno. That’s got nothing to do with me.”

“But let’s see. How about failing in a game world? Unlike reality, this place is more lenient even if you use your full strength.”

Mayoi: ? Ritsu-san, how do you know this is a game?

Ritsu: “Hehe. You said it yourself – you won’t die even if you fail in this game world.”

Mayoi: Uhh, I suppose that’s true…

Ritsu: “See? Try taking a step forward.”

“You can do something even without the help of your friends… If you can manage that, then you’ll be of equal standing to them, right?”

Mayoi: …I guess you’re right. If it’s a game world, then I, too, can…

Hiiro: Mayoi-senpai! Don’t rush things!

Mayoi: Hiiro-san…?

Aira: Ehehe, we finally found you! So you were in here all along ♪

Tatsumi: Our apologies for being late. You’re not alone now.

We’ll team up as “ALKALOID” and take on the “Monster’ Island’s” trial.

Mayoi: So you were all together… How did you find me here?

Hiiro: Right. Tsukasa-kun’s NPC told us at the village.

Aira: You can clear this island’s trial if you obtain the “legendary sword” in these ancient ruins, right? Then, let’s do it togethe–

Mayoi: P–Please don’t stop me.

Aira: Mayo-san?

Mayoi: I’ve finally realised that this is a trial aimed for me.

I’m a cowardly person… There’s something I’ve always kept secret from you all, so I must show my bravery here…

Tatsumi: Secret…? Hmm, were you hiding something from us, Mayoi-san?

You’re saying you’ll atone for that by taking on this trial on your own?

Mayoi: Yes. After “SS” ended, I received a job from Anzu-san.

She told me there will be auditions held for a “shuffle project”, so she’d like me to take part…

But I’m afraid of acting in front of others! To this day, I still haven’t given her my response!

Anzu-san was kind enough to select me, but at this rate, I’d just be putting her and the “P Association” to shame.

I didn’t know what I should do…

I don’t have any confidence in myself and I’m scared of acting. But if I decline the audition, then that very decision might affect “ALKALOID” as a whole.

I’ve been full of self-hatred and worry these past few days.

But if – just if – I could summon the courage to change myself, then I want to try. That’s what I thought, somewhere in my heart.

So can you allow me to take on the trial in these ancient ruins…?

Tatsumi: Mayoi-san…

Hiiro & Aira: …………

Mayoi: Ehehe… Have you perhaps come to hate me because I’ve dishonoured you all?

I understand. Not only have I hogged a job from you all but I’ve also brushed aside your goodwill

But if I were to take hold of your hand here…

If I were to rely on you all again, then I don’t think I’ll have the confidence to continue being a member of “ALKALOID” in the future.

Aira: That’s not true, Mayo-san. I’m causing everyone heaps of trouble too.

Mayoi: What…?

Aira: I don’t think you know this but I was having a pretty hard time with my own trial. If it weren’t for Hiro-kun and Tattsun-senpai saving me, I think I would’ve had to leave halfway through.

So if you think you won’t have the right to be in “ALKALOID” unless you clear this trial on your own, then…

I’ll support your challenge. I’ll watch over you!

Don’t worry even if you fail or cause us trouble. Let us watch you take on the challenge – show us how brave you are!

Mayoi: Aira-san…

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