#just treating women like property right

[bitch-butter]

oh my god I hate that I have watched Knuckle Draggers and I was kind of really sad that I was just reminded that I watched that movie

truly such a pathetic film. there needs to be a support group for people who have watched it, it is legitimately worthless aside from the needless homosexual flagging ross does to eion lol

[ahundredtimesover]

I Want You to Stay (03) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 14.8k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: I've been thoroughly enjoying your asks and replies about this story (sorry I can’t get to each one!) I see that a lot can relate to what OC's going through and I'm sending you hugs! 🤗 Again, I appreciate your love and excitement. And uh... Golden JK in that white tank. YUP. 🤭 Hoping you enjoy this one!

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight  🥰

PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!

The spring in your step tightens the closer you get to Jungkook’s penthouse the next Monday. Walking here to start another week, there’s a mix of emotions you’re carrying with you. 

You got to spend a proper weekend. On Friday, you made yourself some cold noodles and then watched a movie with Jimin and Soomin on video call, who’d said they’ll be visiting you in a week. You took the train to Daegu on Saturday, went to the park, then stayed in to enjoy Min-woo’s cooking and the girls’ stories about school and their youth clubs. You then buried yourself in your mother’s embrace as you told her about your week. You didn’t want to say too much, not wanting her to worry that her daughter isn’t being treated well at her job, but you suppose you said enough. 

“I wish I was strong enough to protect you from everything,” she’d told you softly. “All I can do is just give you hugs and say words of encouragement that might not even mean much.”

“And you still are, mom. I look forward to being with you because of those hugs. But more than that, you were strong enough to protect me from the bad guys,” you’d assured her. “Jungkook is many things but he’s not a terrible person. I can handle him.”

And you meant it. He may be hot-tempered sometimes but he’s not evil. But just because he made you go home early last Friday, it also doesn’t mean he’s suddenly redeemed in your mind. Sure, he didn’t email you at all over the weekend unlike last time, but he also still didn’t apologize to you nor show remorse. 

Perhaps that small nod after he called you telling you that you could go home was his way of saying sorry, or maybe it just isn’t in his vocabulary. You wonder if Hoseok had told him off but even then, it’s a pretty quick change, if you could call it that. 

Regardless, you felt like a human being again these past few days; you just wish Jungkook woke up on the right side of the bed this morning and doesn’t find a reason to complain about you. 

Unlocking the door, you’re surprised to hear silence - there are no grunts and deep breaths nor the sound of leather hitting leather from his morning workout. You scan the floor before walking around - a habit you’ve developed after finding that laced underwear last week - and then peep into the door on the right, only to find untouched equipment and no other traces of him. 

You’re in the living room when you hear another door close, prompting you to turn around and see a woman appearing from the hallway on the other side of the penthouse. Her hair’s a bit disheveled and she’s wearing one of Jungkook’s coats that you saw in his closet. 

“Uh, who are you?” The woman scoffs, her arms crossed and eyebrows raised now. 

Taken aback, you just stare at her, until you realize she’s not wearing anything underneath so you look away.

You try to make sense of who she is and how you could get out of this situation. You know for a fact that Jungkook doesn’t have a girlfriend, at least that’s what Lucas had told you, but who knows what Jungkook’s been up to since he got back? There was that red laced underwear from last week after all. Maybe he does sleep around like what Do-hyun said. Maybe this woman just doesn’t know Jungkook has a female assistant. Maybe he’s—

“Hey, I’m talking to you,” she says, sounding more annoyed now. 

“Oh. Uh, I’m Mr. Jeon’s—”

“She’s my assistant,” Jungkook answers, catching you off guard, given that you hadn’t noticed him walk in. 

He’s not in his usual workout attire, although him in a white tank top and gray sweatpants with mussed hair somehow seems more overwhelming than him in nothing but gym shorts. You glance at him as he stands next to the woman, whose face suddenly lights up. Not wanting to look at her, you shift your gaze towards the ceiling, trying hard not to look awkward as you’re rooted in place. 

The woman looks at you from head to toe and you feel her judging you, assessing you, while Jungkook stands there, yawning and combing his hair with his fingers.

“Just your assistant?” She asks, sounding incredulous. 

“Yeah. What else would she be?” Jungkook answers nonchalantly. Looking at you, he nods ever so slightly that you almost miss it, another hint of acknowledgement you’d seen last Friday. “Just eggs on toast. And coffee.”

“Yes, Mr. Jeon,” you say, exhaling the breath you were holding and then walking to the kitchen to start on his breakfast. 

“I don’t know, another one of your girls? I see you with a new one every time,” she huffs, sounding bitter, but Jungkook doesn’t sound amused.

“What are you still doing here?” He asks, walking to where you are then taking the glass of water you prepare for him. “I called a service for you last night.”

“I was too tired,” she says, and you don’t miss the sultry tone of her voice now. “You tired me out, Jungkook. I could barely get off the bed.”

“And why are you still here?” He asks, clearly not having it with her teasing. 

“Because I’m still tired,” she smirks, having followed him to the kitchen. 

You feel tense once more; you definitely don’t want to be part of this conversation in any way nor be privy to it, especially given what obviously happened between them last night. And especially not with Jungkook looking and sounding the way he does this early Monday morning.

“And I was thirsty,” she continues. 

He sets his glass down and opens the refrigerator and takes out a bottle of water that he hands over to her. 

“Ugh, how romantic,” she rolls her eyes, finishing it in a few gulps. 

“I have to go to work,” he tells her, frustrated that she’s being stubborn about not leaving when he no longer seems to want her around. 

“Actual work, or, you know, work?” She says, gesturing towards you.

You make the mistake of looking at her smug face, the insinuation not lost on you. It’s insane how she can just make claims like that, and you feel that just like you, Jungkook’s getting pissed.

“Can you just leave?” He says much more sternly now. “I can’t start my day with you still here.”

“Ooh, how rude,” she giggles. “Should’ve expected you’d be like that even outside of bed. I like that.”

She walks back to the room, leaving you and Jungkook on your own. You continue to work on his eggs while he stands by the counter, rubbing his temples. You’re unsure if it’s because of her or from last night’s alcohol, but you get aspirin and also a bottle of energy drink and set them in front of him before returning to preparing his meal. 

The woman comes back shortly in last night’s attire then walks towards Jungkook.

“I’m leaving,” she announces, tilting his chin so he would face her. “I’ll see you again, yeah?”

Jungkook turns away and does not respond, leaving her to laugh as if there’s a joke that only she’s in on.

“Going all quiet on me now, huh?” She says. “You weren’t like that last night. I can still hear your moans, actually. Fuck, they sounded so good and so loud.”

You almost hit your finger as you slice the apple, clearly not expecting for this stranger to say something so intimate, knowing there’s another person in the room with them. You don’t know if she wants to intimidate you for whatever reason or maybe just make you feel uncomfortable. Whatever it is, it’s working, as you’re unable to focus on the task at hand now. 

Jungkook still doesn’t say anything, and it’s what prompts her to finally say goodbye. 

“Fine, I’ll leave now,” she whines. “But that was an amazing first time. I hope it won’t be the last.”

Her giggle annoys you for some reason, even more when you mistakenly look her way. Her smug face unnerves you as she holds your gaze while she says, “I’ll see you again, okay? I’ll make sure you’ll scream my name next time,” the words obviously directed at Jungkook. 

She finally exits the penthouse but she doesn’t take the tension with her because in this large apartment with you and him, you feel a little too hot, a little too alert, yet somehow a little too curious.

Jungkook groans now as he finishes his energy drink, and he doesn’t know what he’s more frustrated about - the fact that the woman whose name he doesn’t remember didn’t go home, or that you’d found out about it in the most embarrassing way and he’d done nothing to stop her attempts at making you feel uncomfortable because that’s definitely what she was doing. 

He doesn’t know how it affected you but even he can tell that it wouldn’t have been good. Not that he’s ashamed of his lifestyle but it’s different when you, of all people, get to see what that looks like. You did see the laced underwear on his kitchen floor last week, and he knows you definitely tried to pretend you hadn’t. Perhaps the image of arrogant, playboy Jungkook just solidified in your head and the fact that maybe that’s what you think of him is making him feel uneasy. 

Not that he cares about what you think - he definitely does not - but he just doesn’t want that to affect how you would treat him in a professional sense, as if he’s some reckless man who works too hard and parties much harder, even if that’s kind of what he does. 

The hangover doesn’t help at all; he shouldn’t have chugged that wine while the woman was giving him head, which was amazing, he reminds himself. He just knows he won’t be seeing her again after this morning because she’d been stubborn and shameless, and definitely not because of how she spoke to you and the insinuations she made.

“Mr. Jeon, your breakfast is ready,” you inform him, breaking him out of his thoughts. 

He takes a seat on the table and you sit next to him, taking out your iPad to start your rundown of last Friday’s meeting and this week’s schedule. 

“So—”

“Wait, give me a minute,” he stops you, and he realizes just how little sleep he actually got and he’s gonna have to push through today’s busy schedule despite feeling physically out of it. 

“Okay, sir,” you say softly.

He munches on his toast with his eyes closed, and when he opens them, his gaze falls on you, sitting upright on the chair looking clean and proper in your blush blouse and beige skirt. You seem to be reviewing the reports from last week, your eyebrows scrunched as you scribble on the screen. He knows you took the hours-long trip to and from Daegu over the weekend; the visit, just like any, must have been tiring. Yet you come to his place everyday without fail, ready to do what he needs you to do, and he doesn’t even know if you’ve had anything to eat yet. 

“Have you had breakfast?” He asks.

“E-excuse me?”

“Breakfast. Have you had it?”

“O-oh. Yes, I had some crackers and fruit on the way. I ate on the bus,” you respond.

He remembers your address from your staff profile. You live about 40 minutes from him, almost double if you commute. You come at 6:30 everyday, so he can only imagine what it’s like for you every morning. 

“Why don’t you drive?”

“I don’t have a car, sir.”

“Shouldn’t that be part of your contract? Or a benefit of some sort?”

“It isn’t. I believe only the CEO’s assistant does,” you respond. 

“Bitna has a company car.”

“Ms. Jung requested that when she was still President.”

“Then I’ll request one for you. It's… it’s too early. And you can’t always be assured of public transportation. There could be delays. Or an emergency that would require you to drive.”

Of course, he’d want you to get a car so that you’re more accessible to him. Just when you thought there’s actually a bit of his heart working this time, he reminds you why there isn’t.

“That’s true, but nothing has happened so far. And there are other options should there be,” you say. “I also don’t know how to drive so there is no need, Mr. Jeon. I leave my apartment early enough to make sure I get here on time, and I’ll let you know if I will be late.”

Jungkook just hums, even if there’s more he wants to know. What about late nights? What if there’s a storm? Well, he does know - he did see you miss out on taxis and then just walk last Tuesday; he wonders how you got home then, and how many hours of sleep you had after all that. 

He lets it go; it’s too early to think about this.

“Good. We can run through the minutes now,” he says.

So you do, stating the points and confirming your actions for each one and then noting down his as well. You try to focus, and you’re able to for the most part, but it’s not easy when he sits just a few feet away from you, with his bare arms propped on the table that’s just hard to look away from. 

You’ve always liked tattoos on other people, and the art on his right arm looks so delicate and personal; you wonder what someone like him would value enough to ink permanently on his skin. Even his untouched arm is mesmerizing, toned like every other part of him, with beauty marks that you spot as well. It doesn’t help that his slightly long hair keeps falling over his eyes, prompting him to comb them with his fingers every time. 

What also doesn’t help are the woman’s words from earlier, as she’d managed to make you think of Jungkook in a very different way, given her descriptions of how he’d been last night. You don’t know what she intended by doing that, but you didn’t miss her insinuations about your relations with him, which are definitely far from the truth. Learning that he’s rough and loud in bed is also knowledge that you could’ve done without. Somehow, he sounds like how he looks - expressive of negative emotions, and the type to drain the other person. 

He also sounds like the guys you’ve slept with.

The thought alarms you. These are things you shouldn’t be thinking about your boss, about the man who pays you, about the one who makes you miss meals and buses and who makes you angry because of how he treats you. 

You try to dispel these ideas by coughing - the loud sound helps, and you also want to distract yourself from how distracted you are at your task because somehow he keeps getting more and more attractive after every glance. 

He stands up, and just when you thought he’d be angry after your disruption, he surprises you by placing a glass of water in front of you.

“You can drink, you know? You can make yourself a cup of coffee. You can even cook yourself breakfast if it’s just crackers you eat in the morning,” he says. 

Yes, you think to yourself. You’ve been wanting to try his coffee because of the fancy machine but breakfast sounds… too domestic. 

“Thank you, but I’m okay. I mean, the snacks fill me up just fine.”

“It’s not proper breakfast, though,” he argues. 

“With all due respect, sir, eating takes time away from all the things I have to do. I manage just fine.”

Expecting an annoyed expression from him because you did just imply that you do too much, you instead see the tiniest hint of guilt on his face, as if he actually feels bad that you’re unable to take care of yourself because of him. 

“You’re not a servant, Ms. Cho. You’re not disallowed to do basic things just because of your job.”

“You have standards, Mr. Jeon,” you say, throwing his words back at him. You don’t expect to see his face fall a little, and you’re surprised that you seem to care. “I need to meet them, and I’m still familiarizing myself with how you want things done, and that takes time. I don’t mean to imply that you treat me like a servant because you don’t. I just… I want to be able to do things right and I’m still learning.”

The words hit Jungkook. He knows he’d been too critical during these first weeks, and that’s more because he’s unable to manage the initial attraction that he’s trying so hard to temper. He could’ve gone on correcting you constructively, with no need for harshness the way he did with Lucas when he started. 

You’ve also been doing this for a few years. You’ve been working for the VP’s office longer than he has - you know the people and the processes more, yet you’re the one claiming you need to learn and do things right. Even he thinks his father, whom he never thought was the best at looking out for his people, wouldn’t be angry at those below him for irrational reasons. Somehow he thinks he’s worse than his old man now. 

But the word sorry isn’t in his vocabulary. He’d rarely ever said it, and the only reason he’d heard it a lot growing up was because people caused his inconvenience, and not because they’d hurt his feelings. He doesn’t know what that’s like - forgiving and wanting to be forgiven. They’re foreign to him, but somehow those are what you’re making him want to know. 

“I—”

“Can we move on, Mr. Jeon?” You interrupt him. “You have a scheduled check-in with your father before the 8:30 team meeting.”

“Right, that’s today,” Jungkook says, letting go of any form of apology he could muster. 

He nods then stands up to head to his bathroom, and you follow shortly after to arrange his outfits for the week. You clean up in the kitchen after and wait for him to come out, with you reflexively walking up to him to fix his tie and make sure all the creases on his clothes are fixed. 

Jungkook tries to remain still as you, like everyday, make sure he looks proper. It always took him a long time to get ready because he used to do all this on his own, but with you taking on the unofficial stylist role - which he admits you do a great job at - he’s relieved of that added stress of looking the part of a Vice President. It just also means that every morning, he has to look unaffected as you stand close to him like this, with you tightening his tie and your fingers grazing his clothed chest.

You smell like roses. It feels warm and nostalgic, like it’s familiar but also something new. It’s refreshing on you, and it wafts through his nose and paralyzes him a little. He tries to hold his breath like always, only briefly glancing at your focused eyes as you make sure he looks impeccable. 

He’s caught off guard when you look up and meet his gaze. He doesn’t react, but he does linger and surprisingly, so do you. He wants to apologize but he doesn’t know how to. He just hopes you feel it somehow with how he looks at you; he’d like to think you do, as you gently bow and step back, taking your things to go down. 

You go through his schedule while in the car, noting his dinner meetings and that the food tasting for next month’s event with the art industry professionals that you’re both organizing has been moved to next week, freeing up his Thursday lunch hour.

“I’ll schedule my visit at Taehyung’s tailor shop that day then,” Jungkook states. “I’ll have a few suits done.”

“Noted, Mr. Jeon,” you reply, adjusting his calendar. 

He doesn’t say anything after. He takes his leather notebook and sketches like he often does, looking out his window only a few times as he’s engrossed in his drawings. Even with all that he is, you can’t deny Jungkook’s talent. You only know he took an architecture course but you don’t know if he actually practices it. 

You start to wonder if Jungkook wanted that to be his profession but couldn’t pursue it because he’s expected to manage the company with his cousin. You wonder if he’d always been into drawing and the arts, if it was an outlet the way reading picture books was for you; you’d wanted to become an illustrator but your mother couldn’t afford drawing classes and that profession just didn’t seem like it could sustain you financially. You wonder what Jungkook thinks when he sketches and what his subjects are, if he feels at peace the way he looks, if he hopes he could just spend his days doing this. 

The seeming warmth in your thoughts about this man concerns you, prompting you to turn away from his direction and stare out the window instead. You remind yourself that this is the same person who’d made the past two weeks miserable for you; he doesn’t deserve warmth from you in any form, even if, for the briefest moment earlier after you fixed his tie, that’s what you gave him. You learned that he’s quite mesmerizing when he doesn’t talk or when he isn’t scowling. You also learned you’re quite quick to fall into it when you let your guard down a little. 

You groan internally. There’s a lot you don’t know about him and you don’t really care to know more; what you know is enough to put you off anyway. And so these moments of weakness - of curiosity, of concern -  should not happen again. 

Except, they do happen, over an hour later after Jungkook returns to his room from his check-in with his father. He sits on his chair, his eyes closed and jaws clenched, unmoving for a good few minutes, and you watch from your seat, wondering what transpired that’s got him this disturbed. 

It happens again an hour later. He moved the team meeting to the afternoon and he’s now furiously typing on his desktop, making calls, sketching, making calls again, then sitting still with his eyes closed once more. Hoseok walks in, merely nodding at you, then enters the room and speaks with the younger man. Jungkook closes the blinds, and you’re left to wonder what’s going on behind closed doors and what’s got him angry and frustrated.

You take your chance at finding out when Hoseok emerges, asking him if everything’s okay, if Jungkook is okay.

“Yeah, he’s fine,” Hoseok says, a half smile on display, something you’re only a tad familiar with. “He’ll manage.”

He rushes out, saying he has a meeting to get to, and you nod, glancing at the closed door and blocked window, wondering what troubles Jungkook is handling on his own. If it’s personal, it’s clearly not your business. But if it’s work-related, then it is. You’re there to make things easier for him, after all. You also don’t want to be surprised and be bombarded by new tasks just in case, so it’s better to know if there’s something you can help in resolving things as well.

You walk in his room then place the ginger lemon tea on his desk, a common home remedy for hangovers, just in case last night’s events are still affecting him. You inform him that you’ve sent the reports already for his sign-off, and he responds that he’ll get to them tomorrow.

Glancing at his drink, he halts his typing to look at you. 

“Do I look hungover to you?” He asks pointedly.

It’s clearly not what you meant, but you suppose the insinuation isn’t what he needs right now. You want to be swallowed by the ground. He was already calm towards you, civil even, and now there’s another reason for him to be upset at you. You wanted to avoid any possibility of that as much as possible, and now you’re here, at the verge of being told off again, just because your stupid brain decided to care the tiniest bit.

“I, uh, no, Mr. Jeon,” you stutter. “I just…”

You don’t have a reason. Clearly, you can’t tell him that he hasn’t seemed okay all morning - whatever that means - and that just in case it’s last night’s alcohol affecting him, there’s a cure. You stare back at him with worry, but instead of challenging or questioning you, he just sits back with his eyes closed again and dismisses you. 

“You may leave,” he instructs. 

“What about lunch, sir?” You ask. 

You’d never cared before, why the change now? 

“I’m fine,” he responds. “Call me when the meeting’s about to start.”

Your stubborn self takes the box of biscuits from the coffee table and places it in front of him. You’re pushing it, you think, but there’s a meeting he’ll be leading and he can’t be unfocused; when he is, it’s all the worse for you. 

He doesn’t react and you walk out. When you enter an hour later to call him, you spot the empty cup and the crumbs on the saucer, and you can’t help the tiny smile that you make internally.

It’s short-lived though, as that whole afternoon, he acts unusually - he barely makes comments at updates, he doesn’t make eye contact, and doesn’t ask further questions. He just nods when you say you’re heading out at 6PM, giving you no added tasks to keep you from leaving.

You enter his penthouse the next morning to the banging of leather hitting leather, prompting you to jerk from the loud sounds. He’s grunting and panting heavily, and you just know that whatever it was that transpired yesterday, he’s releasing all his emotions right now, through this. 

He exits the gym and walks to the counter where you are, finishing the water you laid for him in three gulps. 

“Do you need that tended to?” You ask. 

He looks surprised. You gesture towards his hands and he looks at his bruised knuckles; he really let it all out this morning, it seems. 

“I’m fine,” he shrugs. 

You didn’t think those two words from him would ever make you feel discouraged, but one thing you’ve come to learn about Jungkook is that he easily expresses his anger and frustration towards other people. It’s when he keeps things in that they seem more serious, and you wonder what words he heard yesterday that might have made him this closed off, this quiet, this much more distant.

But fortunately, your feeling of worry fades with each day that passes, as he slowly returns to his normal self after - the focus, the perpetually serious look, the attention to detail, the sketching on his notebook. Perhaps Jungkook just needed a particular kind of release and he’s maybe handling things better now. 

For his sake and yours, you wish the issue has been resolved, otherwise another blow up might happen and that wouldn’t be good for your newfound dynamic that’s a lot more civil than anything. 

It’s Thursday when you get a call at 5 in the morning, just as you’ve woken up to get ready for work, and Mr. Ri’s voice greets you on the other end.

“Hi, ___. How are you this morning?”

“Hi, Mr. Ri,” you yawn, curious as to why he’s checking up on you this early. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” he hums. “I was instructed by Mr. Jeon to pick you up today.”

“Why would CEO Jeon ask that?” You wonder, as you sleepily walk to the bathroom to wash up.

“He didn’t. Jungkook did.”

You stop on your tracks. You don’t recall being informed about this, nor do you know of any particular reason why you should be at his place so soon.

“Oh, uhm, okay. I should be ready in–”

“I’ll be there in about 50 minutes,” Mr. Ri interjects. “Sleep in a bit more and have some breakfast. I’ll see you shortly.”

You try not to think about what prompted Jungkook to have you picked up, so you focus on getting ready and then whipping yourself some fried rice using the leftover seafood from last night. You won’t lie, it tastes delicious. It might be that you just haven’t had proper weekday breakfast in a while, but it could also be that you’re energized enough and not pressed for time that you’re able to make this as good as it is. 

You decide to bring some to Jungkook’s place just in case you get there late. Sure, Mr. Ri will be driving you, but you don’t know how the traffic is at this time, and this change in schedule is somewhat making you anxious. But then again, there’s always bread or cereal for him to eat; you just think that a little act of thanks wouldn’t be so bad.

Mr. Ri arrives exactly 50 minutes later and he assures you that he’ll get you to the penthouse in half an hour. You trust him of course; he’s been with the Jeons for decades and he knows these streets like the back of his hand. Seated in the passenger seat, you try to figure out what about today has got your boss a little kinder than usual. 

“I arrived five minutes late yesterday,” you wonder out loud. “Is that why? He has a meeting with a local artist in the morning and he doesn’t want me to be late. That should be it. Ugh, stupid,” you groan. “I should’ve taken the first bus I saw, but it was so full and–”

“___,” Mr. Ri stops you. “Five minutes isn’t much. Plus, you always arrive 10 minutes before 6:30 and then just wait at the lobby. I don’t know why you do, you could always just go up to the penthouse when you get there, you know?”

“No, I don’t. Mr. Jeon has boundaries and clearly likes keeping his distance. Going to his penthouse before I’m supposed to be there feels like I’m intruding,” you argue.

“You’re literally his assistant, and you go to his bedroom and his closet, fix his things, prepare his meals… there’s no intrusion happening,” Mr. Ri counters. “I know the man. He’ll probably just look at you curiously then go about his routine.”

“Well, since you know him so well, then why did he have me picked up this morning?”

There’s a brief silence before the man next to you responds.

“He did note that you were late for the first time, but that wasn’t his issue,” Mr. Ri says, appeasing you before you react negatively and think that your tardiness was a big deal. “He asked if I knew how you got to Hoseok’s place before and I said you would just take the bus; it was closer to your place so it was fine. They have someone to make his breakfast, too, so you didn’t need to come early; plus, you only went every Monday.”

“What a change, huh?” You attempt to poke fun at yourself and the new arrangement you’re in. 

Not that you’re complaining; you know of other executive assistants who do much more for their bosses and what you have with Jungkook isn’t even that bad. But it is quite the shift compared to what you did for Hoseok. You’ve figured out your own routine, though. And the commute isn’t always terrible, for as long as you’re not one of the unlucky ones, given the recent incidents. 

“It’s quite the change. I don’t think he realized that until yesterday. He also asked me if I know if you eat properly in the morning. Maybe he thinks you don’t?”

“I’ve skipped meals…” you trail. “And well, I told him that I just eat crackers on the bus. Maybe he thinks I’m losing focus some days.”

“Maybe he’s just concerned.”

You snort at the absurdity of the statement. 

Mr. Ri sighs. He knows that Jungkook hasn’t been his best self since he arrived in Seoul, and especially towards you. He’s noticed the young man’s indifference, the occasional passive remark, the frustrated looks, and the tension every morning. He’s noticed your faraway eyes, too, your constant anxiety, and unusual lack of confidence in your usual tasks, given that you look to be second-guessing everything you do. 

As someone who’s worked for the Jeons for so long and who’d watched Jungkook grow up, he’s used to the detachment, but it was always because the young man often lived in his own head. There are always lots of thoughts and ideas, and lots of feelings he keeps bottled in. 

But he’s also seen Jungkook’s kindness that he doesn’t always show, the guilt and anger that restrain him from expressing his emotions, and the care that he seems to put a brake on when he shows too much of it to someone, and so it isn’t much of a surprise to him to him when the young man gave this specific instruction to pick you up, not just today but everyday moving forward.

“The news on the radio reported on the robberies and complaints of sexual harassment against female commuters last night,” Mr. Ri continues. “They attack at any hour now. I’m sure that’s why. He wants me to drive you home everyday, too.”

“Mr. Ri, that’s too much,” you protest. “That’s not part of my contract and it isn’t his responsibility.”

“Maybe, precisely why I think he’s concerned. It isn’t about making sure you’re not late to work or anything. He’s worried that something might happen to you. And I agree. It isn’t safe, ___.”

“It’s not safe for me anywhere. I just… it’s too much,” you sigh. “I don’t need this kind of service. I’m not entitled to it.”

“He’ll insist though. Will you argue with him over your own security? I mean, it’s either this or he’ll pay for your driving lessons and then request for a car for you to use.”

You sigh, knowing he has a point. You don’t think you deserve it but you also can’t deny that the concern makes you feel a certain kind of way for him; gratitude, for one, and something else you can’t exactly name. 

“Okay,” you say softly. 

“Good. It’s about time he makes it up to you,” he chuckles. “Boy’s been a brat these past weeks. I wanted to just knock some sense into him.”

“Hmm, not like I expected any less,” you huff. “He just looked grumpy or disinterested during the times I’ve seen him before. Unhappy people like that aren’t always the kindest. Has he always been that way?”

“I wouldn’t say he has. I mean, he just wasn’t joyful or expressive, not like his brother. Jungkook liked to keep to himself; Hoseok often tried to push him out of his comfort zone but the boy wouldn’t really budge. I think as he grew up, that just amplified. People who prefer being alone have their reasons, don’t they?”

They do. You know this just like anyone, perhaps as much as Jungkook. It’s comfortable being alone; there’s no one to hurt you and no one you could hurt. You wonder if his reason is the same, and if, like you, he feels the loneliness creep in every once in a while. 

You nod in silence and the conversation doesn’t continue until you arrive at Jungkook’s building. You have five minutes to get to his unit and you get there in three. When you enter, you hear grunting from the gym, and it’s shortly after when he exits and drinks the glass of water on the counter.

“What’s that?” He gestures at the plastic container next to you.

“It’s fried rice. I made it this morning because I had time to eat breakfast at home,” you say, softly smiling and then bowing at him to show your gratitude. Whatever his reason is, the act was appreciated. 

“And you’re gonna eat again?”

“I was actually–”

You stop midway. You actually meant to serve it to him in case you arrived late, which you realize is pretty ridiculous. 

“Actually what?” He asks, leaning forward on the counter now, with his bare arms from his tank top blinding you a little. 

“I didn’t know what time I was gonna get here so I thought as a last resort, I’ll bring this to heat up and serve to you but then I realized that that’s pretty stupid because it’s leftovers and definitely not high-quality ingredients and it’s… just silly. Plus, you don’t eat rice in the morning.”

With his scrunched brows, he asks, “is it good?”

“It’s pretty delicious,” you say. “I mean, I liked it. I don’t know how sophisticated your palate is… Mr. Jeon.”

You smack yourself internally for rambling. 

“What’s that got to do with anything? If it’s good, then it’s good.”

“I’m an ordinary person, Mr. Jeon. I have normal people’s taste buds.”

“So that makes me, what? Abnormal?”

“No… I–” you unknowingly pout. You shouldn’t have brought this in the first place. 

Jungkook is disarmed again at the sight of your pouty face. If this is your way of thanking him for this morning, he’ll take it. The fact that you’d brought something you cooked from your own place to feed to him is already enough to make him feel hazy, which is why he needs to get away from you right away.

“Just heat it up. I’ll have that. There’s not much food in here anyway,” he says, walking away, leaving you no room to resist.

You do as you’re told, not wanting to overthink and change anything. You do check the cupboard and see a stashed pantry, and you wonder if he’d wanted to find something to criticize about your cooking, too. 

He walks in and lets you fix his tie again, and for some reason, you feel more nervous than you normally do today. You sit and busy yourself with responding to emails as he eats his breakfast, careful not to look at him while he does.

“It’s good, a little better than how I do mine,” he says, surprising you.

“You cook?” You ask too quickly.

“Of course,” he frowns, looking a little offended. “I lived on my own for years. How do you think I survived?”

“Hiring people to do it for you,” you shrug. 

Peeking at him once again, you see that he’s almost finished with the dish, and you can’t help the little smile on your face at the thought that he might actually enjoy it. It’s just fried rice, but you let yourself feel the shallow happiness from this. He’s at least not berating you or anything.

He finishes his meal as you go through yesterday’s meetings. There’s not much about the Arts Center he says, just like yesterday and the day before, and you start to wonder if the issue with his father has anything to do with that. 

You let it go, opting to just follow his pace and let him talk about it when he’s ready, if he ever will be. 

The morning goes by smoothly. Jungkook meets with Yoongi in his office then reviews the reports you’d sent last Monday. He sends you an email, saying that they’ve been approved and for you to attach his signature for sign-off and dissemination, leaving you perplexed at the lack of any other comments again. 

He goes for a quick lunch at the dining hall while you eat a sandwich at the pantry, and not long after, you’re back in the car to head to Jungkook’s appointment with his best friend.

Kim Taehyung’s tailor shop boasts of classic European design. It’s elegant in all the ways that he is, as he stands by the desk in his working space, a smaller room on the mezzanine floor with an exquisite couch and displays of his work. He’s donned in an orange suit that you think only he can pull off, while his brother, Seokjin, sits on a chair in an impeccable black 3-piece. 

You know as much that Jungkook grew up with both men, but while the brothers are often a hot topic on the news because of their wealth, their successful businesses, and colorful dating lives, you now wonder how Jungkook managed to stay out of the spotlight despite being a lot of the things that they are. 

You bow at them after Jungkook introduces you as his assistant, and you’re surprised when Seokjin reaches out his hand to shake yours, bowing as well and offering you a kind smile. Taehyung does the same, and you can’t help but feel the warmth on your cheeks. They’re clearly incredibly handsome men with amazing styles, just like your boss, but they’re obviously respectful and gentle, unlike him. 

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Cho,” Taehyung smiles. “So, what events do I need to dress my best friend for?”

He looks warm, friendly, and you can’t help but mirror his smile as he offers you a seat and some tea. You take out your calendar and enumerate at least three big events in the next months, which would require standout designs. Jungkook also wants four additional everyday classic suits, and Taehyung starts sketching on his pad as you speak. 

“Make one for my event, too,” Seokjin says. “I’m launching my traditional alcohol brand in Singapore in September. It’ll be a big thing so Jungkook needs a fancy piece for that as well.”

“That soon?” Jungkook asks.

“Yeah, it got pushed early,” Seokjin replies.

Jungkook asks you to check his calendar for any activities in the Singapore office, and you state that there’s nothing scheduled during that time. 

“There’s a landscape designer I want to meet while I’m there. Schedule one with her later,” Jungkook instructs you, and you make a note to coordinate with Lucas, who will continue to serve as the assigned assistant for the Vice President’s Southeast Asia trips. 

Taehyung finishes the rough designs quickly, given that he’s already familiar with the style his client wants. He’s done a lot of Jungkook’s suits, which you know from all the weeks of preparing his clothes, and you do admit that he looks best in these custom-made pieces.

As Taehyung takes Jungkook’s measurements - given that, as per his words, Jungkook has gotten wider since the last time - he asks if you have something to wear for those big events, too. 

“Uh, yes,” you say. 

“Are they from company events from before?” Taehyung asks.

You nod shyly. It’s not like you’re paid enough to afford a new one every time nor can you wear them anywhere else; there aren’t exactly regular fancy dinners and social occasions you get invited to.

“Have new ones made, then,” Jungkook says, his back turned to you.

“Uh, there’s no need, Mr. Jeon. The gowns still look new and they’re well-made,” you insist.

“Store-bought?” Taehyung asks, his eyebrow cocked.

“Uh, yes, Mr. Kim.”

“Nothing beats custom-designed ones though. And I must say, I’m kinda good at them.”

“I, uh… it’s really not necessary,” you stutter, feeling a little too shy and definitely undeserving. It’s Kim Taehyung; his name is the brand.

“I believe it is,” Jungkook says now, turning to you. “They’re big events and we’re organizing one with the arts professionals. Some dignitaries will be coming, too, including the culture minister. I’d prefer if you looked the part of working for the Vice President, Ms. Cho. You represent me in that way.”

“I… uh, okay,” you sigh, knowing you don’t seem to be in a position to turn him down. 

“Great. Start thinking of designs, then!” Taehyung beams.

It’s some minutes later when Jungkook’s measurements have been taken and Taehyung calls for you. You sit on the chair facing his desk not far away while Jungkook and Seokjin talk about sports and this new club that opened in Gangnam. 

Seated in front of you, Taehyung takes his sketch pad and starts asking what design you want.

“Something simple and comfortable since I’ll be moving around,” you say softly. “And nothing form-fitting or revealing since, uh…”

“I understand,” Taehyung smiles, revealing a gentle side of him that the paparazzi and tabloids clearly don’t capture. 

He starts drawing your silhouette, glancing at you then at Jungkook before speaking.

“So, he’s been in this role for a few weeks now. Has he been nice?”

“Define ‘nice,’” you respond, earning you a chuckle. 

“I guess that’s my answer, then.”

“I don’t mean to say he isn’t,” you backtrack. “Mr. Jeon just has a different leadership style as Mr. Jung’s, that’s all.”

“I suppose that’s quite a difficult adjustment for you, huh?”

You purse your lips and Taehyung laughs, the soft way he does it is something new and refreshing to you. You didn’t realize how deprived you are of such gentleness, of such acts or sights as simple as a smile. Hoseok is no longer your source. Your team hasn’t been as jolly these past weeks. The only other person you talk to regularly at work is Yoongi, and while he’s definitely been smiling more, it’s a lot more teasing than it is comforting. You’ve been missing your best friends more because of that, you think - Soomin’s smile is blinding, Jimin’s is sweet and infectious. Perhaps it’s why you haven’t been smiling much yourself. 

“I won’t tell, don’t worry,” Taehyung assures you. “I just wanted to check on him. This whole move has been tough but he doesn’t say much. I’m guessing he doesn’t tell you, either, but he’ll definitely show it.”

“He has, actually,” you say softly, knowing now that even with his closest friends, Jungkook tends to keep things to himself. “He’s pretty stressed most days, always working and stuff. He’s been a little hard on me but I guess that’s a natural reaction for some.”

“That’s not an excuse though.”

“It isn’t, but… it’s okay. I can handle it.”

It’s not as much of a lie anymore as it used to be. Jungkook hasn’t been overly critical about things as he was just last week. He rarely makes comments on your minutes now, doesn’t correct the reports you reviewed, doesn’t talk over you or doesn’t yell. There’s been a change, definitely, and you wonder what triggered it. 

“He doesn’t really smile, does he?” You ask, your curiosity getting the better of you.

Taehyung’s laughter is one of disbelief and pure amusement, catching the attention of the other two men but he waves them off. 

“He still does, just not as much,” he responds. “It kinda stopped after the breakup with Chaerin but I guess that’s what heartbreak does, right?”

“I… wouldn’t know. I’ve never experienced it,” you shrug.

“Lucky,” he hums. “I don’t wish it on anyone.”

You glance at Jungkook, briefly letting yourself imagine a version of him that’s a lot more carefree, relaxed, perhaps happy. Maybe it’s the loneliness and that you’d understand; that, you’ve experienced. It’s both liberating and isolating. You wonder if that’s how he’s been feeling all these years since then.

“I’m done,” Taehyung announces, showing you three designs that are exactly what you asked for. 

“These look nice. And way out of my price range,” you laugh.

“Perks of having a rich boss,” he winks. “I don’t want you to worry about anything, okay? You’re my client and I want you to wear these with confidence. Now, if you’re okay with all this, I’ll get one of my female assistants to get your measurements.”

You nod in response. There’s absolutely nothing you would change about those designs. And if you’re being honest, you now can’t wait for those events just so you could wear them. Hoseok had obviously paid for the gowns you had to wear for the big events, but those were store-bought that A-yeong helped you choose. Some were your own purchases, but this is the first time that you’re getting measured for custom-made clothing designed by Kim Taehyung. 

You walk towards the fitting room at the corner where one of his staff meets you. She’s meticulous, which is why it takes longer than usual just to get this done. With her silence, however, you’re able to hear the conversation happening outside, with the brothers now asking Jungkook about the same thing you’ve been wondering about.

“By the way, what was up with you last Monday?” Seokjin asks. “I thought that was gonna be night 4 of you going home with a new woman. But you passed out before you could even ask. And that was just 9PM.”

“Four nights isn’t much, though,” Taehyung laughs. “Didn’t he do that with seven women on seven straight nights when he was in Singapore? That was wild. Was it that stressful there? Or were there just so many to choose from?”

“Shut up. I’m not proud of that,” Jungkook groans. “And that was one time. It never happened again.”

“It never happened seven times straight again,” Seokjin corrects. “You were really living your life out there, huh? Stressful job, a rooftop bar in your apartment building, chauffeur and butler services 24/7, women from all over the world begging to sleep with you…”

“It’s called the post-break up stage,” Taehyung says. 

“For six years?!” Seokjin asks incredulously. “It’s either you loved Chaerin that much, you blamed yourself too much, or you just really sucked at moving on.”

“I vote all of the above,” Taehyung states.

“Me, too,” Seokjin claims.

“Fuck you both,” Jungkook groans again. 

“I think he also just missed us too much,” Seokjin adds. “Lucas was cleaning up your messes every time, not snapping you out of it. But we’re here now so I guess three straight nights is as far as you’ll go.”

“Two, if you stopped me last Sunday,” Jungkook points out. “You both always insisted that Sundays are a no-no. You were too busy with your own women.”

“May we remind you that you didn’t even make it to our table. You stepped foot in the bar then left five minutes later,” Taehyung says. “But really, what was it about Monday? You seemed angrier than usual.”

“Just… a bunch of things my father said,” Jungkook huffs.

“Did he tell you off again?”

“Not really, surprisingly. He just delivered a message basically, about what the board members were saying about me and my project. Bullshit stuff, you know? I just wanted to forget about it.”

“Did you?”

“Sorta,” Jungkook says. “I still don’t want to talk about it.”

“But it’s still happening, right?” Taehyung asks worriedly. “The Arts Center, I mean. You’ve been wanting to work on that since the building was abandoned five years ago.”

“I don’t know,” Jungkook responds. “I guess. We already put money into it. I’ll just have to make concessions if my father doesn’t side with me on this. I hate to think he’s buying into what those old folks are saying.”

“Ms. Cho, we’re all done,” the staff member tells you, muffling the conversation outside that you couldn’t help but hear. 

It felt quite intrusive, hearing how life was like for Jungkook in Singapore, but then again, his personal life seemed to be the topic in the office comfort rooms, and you don’t know how to feel about getting confirmation about those rumors. It felt sad more than anything though, living that kind of life away from friends and family. You wouldn’t know what moving on from a breakup feels like, but you suppose people grieve a lost love in their own ways; you can’t blame them for how they choose to repair the parts of them that broke. 

But the bit about his conversation with his father is what bothers you. You’d hate to think that there’s a possibility that Jungkook’s plans won’t be fully realized, and whatever the reasons for that are, you hope they didn’t break his spirit too much. You know the plans now like the back of your hand and the more you learn, the more you believe in it. You hope Jungkook continues to believe in it, too.

You exit the fitting room, catching the end of a conversation where Seokjin suggests a wholesome weekend for the three men of just dinner and drinks. The two other men agree, and they all turn to you once you make your presence felt.

“All good?” Taehyung asks you.

“Yes,” you bow in thanks. 

“Great. The gowns will be ready at the same time as Jungkook’s suits will be. I’ll just let you guys know, okay?

“Sure,” Jungkook says. “But anyway, we have to get back to work. Thanks again.”

The brothers bid you and Jungkook goodbye, and you head back to the office with not much words said. Jungkook seems less frustrated, but the worry you feel suddenly returns. It’s the thought that maybe he doesn’t feel supported, that maybe what he’s doing isn’t enough, and that more than that, it's him choosing to deal with all this on his own, not even looking to his friends to comfort him.

Jimin and Soomin meet you for lunch at a restaurant that Saturday afternoon. The drive from Busan took longer than expected, they said, but you say you don’t mind. They’re visiting you like they always do every month, regardless of how busy they are back in their hometown, which was your home for a few years, too.

You were in the same class; your mom worked at the school, which was the only reason why you were able to attend a prestigious one in the first place. Even when you moved back to Daegu, you remained in touch with them. Despite the distance, none of you wanted to just let the friendship fade, and even when they had to stay back and you made a life out here in Seoul, they made sure to visit you as much as they could.

They’re why you were excited for the weekend to come and now, you’ll be enjoying a hearty meal, getting your nails done after, lounging at your apartment, and then heading to a club for a night out, which you only do whenever they’re around. 

“So, has the boss situation improved?” Soomin asks, her eyes soft and laced with worry “Or should I storm the jerk’s house and give him a piece of my mind?”

“It has,” you chuckle. “So no need to call him names or fight anyone. I’m okay.”

“Well, you did call him a grumpy old grinch with nice hair the other week,” Jimin points out. “So… did he get a haircut?”

“No,” you laugh again. “And that was in the heat of the moment. I… I mean, he’s still grumpy but he’s not… as grumpy or unbearable. He’s been—”

“Oh hun, please don’t say he’s been kind and then give him a pass for how he’s been to you,” Soomin reprimands. “Mean people don’t just become nice all of a sudden. And if they do, that’s a controlling tactic - they want you to think they’re capable of change so you’ll soften up to them and then give them a pass every time they do asshole-y things again.”

“You watch too many shows,” you frown, although knowing her statement isn’t wrong; it’s just not something you can relate with Jungkook.

Sure, he hasn’t been the nicest, but he also hasn’t been the meanest. He’s just been… him, you suppose - a bit in the middle; frustrated at worst, quiet at best, stoic on most days. He does seem to live in his head a lot, and while you won’t go so far as characterizing him as kind, he definitely hasn’t been insufferable these past few days. 

“I’ve just dealt with too many assholes, ___,” Soomin corrects. “They’re all the same. Men are shit.”

“Except for Jimin,” you correct.

“Except for Jimin,” she concurs. 

“I accept the honor,” he bows. “But seriously, ___. How has it been? You… you seemed really sad last week and I would’ve driven here then if we didn’t have that work emergency.”

“I’m okay, I mean it. I’ve experienced worse,” you try to assure them.

“You do know that having experienced something worse doesn’t mean it’s fine for you to experience something bad again, right?” Soomin points out.

“I know, but it also means that I know my threshold for bad behavior,” you say. “Jungkook was in a lot of stress and I did mess up. But I think he’s making up for that.”

“By apologizing, you mean?” Soomin cocks an eyebrow.

Your sigh tells her that’s definitely not what Jungkook has done. 

“Well, he approves my minutes and reviewed reports much quicker,” you reason. “And he doesn’t comment as much. But actually, I think he just pities me. And that’s worse.”

“Why would he pity you?” She asks.

“I don’t know. Maybe because I said that a tree fell on our roof and that mom got injured the weekend before my mishap,” you explain. “And then he found out how early I start my day just so I can get to him on time. He’s made adjustments after those and I… I think he’s guilty or something. And he’s just not being his usual angry self around me to make it up to me.”

“So in short, he’s still kind of an asshole,” Soomin says, prompting Jimin to snort and you to pout. “He could always just apologize if he’s guilty and realized he should treat you better.”

“Some things aren’t easy for other people to say, you know?” You say softly. 

“That’s not an excuse,” she points out.

“It’s an explanation,” you counter. “Or one of them, I guess. I don’t know him well enough, but it’s better to think that he’s a decent person who just struggles with emotions than someone who willingly makes people’s lives difficult. I mean, that’s easier to manage and accept.”

“If that helps you deal and he’s indeed improving, then maybe I won’t have to storm his place then,” she smiles, taking your hand and kissing it as she likes to do. 

She knows your habit of pressing your nails onto your skin, and she always said she likes to remind you that you deserve gentleness, too; she’ll give it if you can’t give it to yourself. 

The rest of the afternoon goes as you planned, with all the banter you’d expect from your best friends amid the pampering and then the chick flick in the background as you get ready in your tiny apartment. 

You smile at your reflection in the mirror. The high-waist trousers and sleeveless top ensemble is a refreshing sight for you, as you only really dress up like this for a night out. You’re in your usual pencil skirts and blouses otherwise, and in jeans and tops or oversized jumpers on a normal day. 

Soomin’s done your makeup and Jimin compliments you as he looks on, and soon enough, they’re ready as well to head out. 

“Where’re we going?” You ask from the passenger seat as Jimin navigates the busy streets of Seoul on a Saturday night. 

“Some new restaurant the guys discovered,” Soomin responds. “I think it’s not far from here.”

“Okay, good. Hajoon’s been texting, asking what time we’ll get there,” you tell them. 

“Geez, you were already with him last night. Tell him to be patient,” Jimin rolls his eyes. 

Soomin laughs from the backseat as she teases that he’s just being jealous, to which he points out that he just hasn’t seen you in a while so the man can wait. And you assure Jimin that you’d gladly skip a night with Hajoon to be with your best friends, no questions asked. 

You get there eventually, and you immediately spot the group because of the laughter coming from their table. There are four men; the two women are Soomin’s friends, which is how you got involved with Hajoon in the first place. You met some time last year and you’ve been hanging out with him since then - among other things - and you’ve been enjoying it, given the simplicity and lack of drama when he’s not being moody. He’s a warm body who knows how to use it and you’re a good type of relief, as he’d said; there’s really not much more you need as you just try to survive through life and make something out of yourself in however way you can. 

Hajoon waves at you from his seat, gesturing to his left to say he’s saved that spot for you. You head there after greeting your other friends, with Jimin and Soomin following you. 

Right as you sit down and greet the man next to you, you’re caught by surprise when he kisses your cheek and snakes his arm around your waist. 

“Hey, I missed you today,” Hajoon hums, smiling at you the way he did last night and this morning; it definitely wasn’t this sweet when he left for a work trip last month.  

“I… saw you today,” you frown, earning you a chuckle. 

“I know; I was still thinking about you, though,” he says. 

You give a smile - as genuine as you can make it - and then turn towards your friends to your left who are trying to hold in their laughter. 

You order a beer after he offers you a glass of wine, and then go for the pork belly when he says the salmon here is good. 

“Just craving for meat, that’s all,” you tell him. 

“Is there anything else you want? Just let me know, okay?”

You hum your yes and then turn back to your friends after Hajoon makes jokes with his.

“Since when was he this sweet to you?” Soomin whispers with wide, curious eyes. 

“Since never,” you reply. “I mean, we’ve never been affectionate outside of bed…”

“Is anything else different?” Jimin wonders, careful not to bring attention to your conversation.

You look back at how things were before Hajoon left and how it was when he was away. Nothing seemed different. You hung out at his place before he flew out, then you messaged each other every now and then during the one month he was abroad. He was more interested to talk, but given the time difference and the pressure and stress you’ve been under the past weeks, you didn’t bother much, neither did he. 

But you also think back to last night - how he picked you up from your apartment, which he’s never done before, and how he prepared a luxurious dinner. He made you breakfast this morning, too, whereas you both usually just sleep in in tangled limbs and then separate once you wake up.

“He cooked me fancy stuff but I just thought he wanted to show off what he learned during his cooking masterclass,” you shrug. “And well… he seemed sweeter than normal.”

“Maybe he hooked up with someone while he was away and he’s guilty about it,” Jimin suggests.

“He didn’t say anything about it and he knows I wouldn’t mind,” you say. “We’re not exclusive, even if I don’t hang out with other guys.”

“Maybe he’s over the fucking and wants to do the loving bit now,” Soomin offers. “I mean, he always seemed more into you than you were into him.”

“He’s hot and decent when he’s in a good mood; that’s all I need,” you admit. 

“But honestly, that’s probably it,” Soomin continues. “I think he’s hinting that he wants to be more.”

“But I don’t want to,” you whine. “I’m not ready.”

“You’re 30! When are you ever gonna be ready?” Soomin whisper-yells.

“Never!” You pout now. “I mean… Not with him.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to tell him soon, then,” Jimin sighs. “Before it gets messy. And you hate messy.”

“What if men just don’t have feelings?” Soomin wonders out loud. “That way, you can’t hurt them.”

“So that way, they can hurt you?” Jimin points out. “No. I’m not letting any men hurt either one of you, okay? I love you both too much.”

“We know,” you and Soomin say at the same time. 

“But I agree with Jimin, ___. You’re gonna have to let that man next to you, who’s thankfully deaf, go. And then just find another person who can give you what you need,” Soomin continues. “Like, uh…” 

She looks around the semi-packed restaurant to find some random man to just point to, her eyes widening in awe as she spots a table close by with the type of men she was just thinking about. 

“Like them.” 

You laugh at her, not taking her seriously, but still, you look towards the direction of her cocked head, only to feel your throat dry up and your heartbeat speed up. Your eyes widen in reflex as they meet the piercing gaze of the man who’d given you a headache for weeks. He also happens to look unfairly handsome in his white top and slicked back hair. 

“Shit, I would totally go for them,” Soomin adds, “and I only even like men a quarter of the time.”

Your best friends look at you as they wait for a response, only to see a nervous look on your face, as if you’re seeing a ghost or something, and the way you turn to them and stutter almost seems like you are.

From the other table, Jungkook pants quietly. You finally looked his way, and he didn’t know what to expect your reaction to be - maybe a bit of shock, but definitely not this worried. Granted, you’re out with your friends at a restaurant that he and his friends frequent. It’s not the type of place they’d normally go for - this is a lot simpler, less private, and more accommodating than the exclusive restaurants and hotels they go to for dinners before heading to a club. But Jungkook loves their pork belly; he orders it every week, and tonight, he was craving for this specifically before going to a private party of one of Taehyung’s clients. 

Jungkook had seen you when you sat down, and he’d been taken aback when the guy to your right immediately kissed your cheek; it seems he’s barely let go of your waist since then, too. Perhaps the man is your boyfriend - and Jungkook doesn’t know what made him think you wouldn’t have one - but it also seems that the one to your left is into you, too, at least based on how he smiles at you sweetly but rolls his eyes at the affectionate guy to your other side. 

But other than the embarrassing obvious affection that both of them are directing at you, what made him lose his senses is how you look, and you’re even more beautiful than he imagined. Your hair is styled, your makeup is bolder than usual, and he won’t even start with how you’re dressed. It’s a lot more skin than he’s used to - you’re out, after all, and if he’ll go by what your companions are wearing, he supposes this is your stop before heading to some club to party, too. Whereas when you’re at work, you have the skirt and long-sleeved blouse ensemble that you wear everyday - still pretty, perhaps just a lot more reserved than what he’s seeing now. 

He can’t take his eyes off you, even as you entertain your suppose-boyfriend, even when you engage in hushed conversation with the man and woman to your left, and even when you stare back at him, the initial shock now wearing down to a look of curiosity. Perhaps you’re wondering why he keeps glancing at you, too.

“I told you he’s got it bad,” Taehyung laughs from the other side of the table. 

He’s noticed how his friend hasn’t said much in the last 10 minutes, his gaze directed at the loud table close by. One glance and Taehyung knew why. 

“Well, we told him,” Seokjin corrects. “He only ever acts out when he’s threatened and he’s apparently threatened by his pretty assistant.”

“I’m not acting out,” Jungkook scowls, finally breaking the staring contest with you.

“You’ve never been this much of a jerk,” Seokjin says. “So yes, you’re acting out.”

Jungkook ignores them, his eyes turning back to you, and finds you downing two shots of tequila consecutively, then using the beer as your chaser. His knuckles unconsciously clench when your suppose-boyfriend scoots closer, whispering something in your ear, his lips grazing your skin. 

Jungkook exhales deeply, trying to get a grip of himself. He’s acting foolishly. You obviously have a life outside of work, and it obviously includes going out for dinner and drinks with friends, having a boyfriend, and enjoying your youth the way he is. There’s a world outside of the routine you’ve both created, of the silence you both share, and the time you spend together, unknowingly learning about each other without meaning to, without wanting to.

“___,” Soomin calls your name one more time. 

“Huh?” You answer, finally tearing your eyes away from Jungkook, who’d unfortunately captured your attention after you noticed he was there. 

You’ve been used to his impeccable looks in his fancy suits; you’ve even gotten used to his tank top and sweatpants post-workout outfits every morning, and while you’re still not immune to that look, his night out wear fit for a party leaves you more choked up than normal. 

Maybe it’s the black jeans that you spot as he sits on the edge of the couch, or the white button-up top with the rolled sleeves up to his elbow, or his haircut that makes him look a little more mature. Maybe it’s all that and the way he’s gazing at you, the look in his eyes something you can’t quite read. Perhaps like you, he’s surprised to see you here the way you’re shocked that he’d chosen this place to eat; it’s not exactly a fancy restaurant you know he likes eating at. 

But he’s here, and so are you, and suddenly you feel exposed, as if the world outside of work that you’ve kept to yourself is baring open to the man who stands at the center of what you do everyday. And you’re not sure how you feel about that.

“I was just saying… those men are pretty hot and they look interested, too,” Soomin wiggles her eyebrows. “ I mean, they keep looking here.”

“One of them is my boss,” you finally say. “Guy on the right. That’s… uh, that’s Jungkook.”

“Holy fuck, hun,” Soomin chokes on her drink. “Why did you leave out the part about your rude boss being a fucking god?”

“Does it matter?” Jimin scowls. “He’s still rude.”

“It’s different when the guy’s hot. It makes the anger more intense, you know?” Soomin says. “Attractive people elicit more passionate feelings sometimes.”

“Excuse me, that’s not why I was angry,” you pout. “He was really being unfair.”

“Well, he was. But I think my point also applies,” Soomin argues. “I’d just like to warn you that workplace hotties are a menace. Except for Yoongi - he was heaven sent. ”

“Ah, the man who could’ve been,” Jimin sighs. “We at least knew he wouldn’t hurt you. He didn’t seem like the type.”

“Yeah, this dude over here is hot but he’s mean. And that’s your type,” Soomin smirks.

“Can we… not talk about this while he’s there? And while this other dude is right next to me?” You glare at your friends, especially at Soomin whose insinuation wasn’t lost on you. “It’s so… weird.”

“Hey, we’re here for you, okay?” Jimin softens as he looks at you. “Just let us know if one of them makes you feel uncomfortable. We can always just stay at your place and watch horror movies until morning and you and Soomin can lose your voices from screaming and then I’ll lose my hearing because of it.”

His words make you laugh. There’s a tenderness in Jimin that you’ve never heard from anyone else before. Even when he’s telling you to stop yelling because you live for the thrill of a jumpscare, he says it so tenderly while laughing before pulling you both in his embrace. 

“I’m okay. I’m just… I don’t know, probably just not used to seeing him somewhere that isn’t the office or his home,” you reason. “And I feel a bit exposed, I guess. This is my world and his is… right there.”

You wrap your arms around your body subconsciously, realizing only you’d done it when Jimin asks if you’re cold, offering his jacket then taking it back because Hajoon might smack him or something.

You turn it down, knowing you actually feel hot more than anything. You’re dressed up and definitely dressed in less, and somehow having Jungkook see you like this is oddly making you shy, perhaps a little too conscious.

“Just don’t mind him,” Soomin advises. “It’s a restaurant. You obviously have a social life and he can’t fault you for it, nor make you feel weird about it. Just focus on us, okay? Or on Hajoon, if that’ll happen.”

You follow her words and try to block out Jungkook. You do slightly nod at him, as well as at Taehyung and Seokjin just to acknowledge their presence, but you continue on with your meal, as the dishes arrive soon after. 

The pork belly is a winner; you’ll probably come back here for that alone. You do manage to dodge Hajoon’s attempts at feeding you, and your other friends engage with the three of you at the other end of the table. It’s going well for the most part, until Hajoon starts to act a little wary, a little tense.

“Hey,” he says, leaning close to you. “The guy on the other table has been looking at you all night. It’s kinda annoying.”

You glance at Jungkook’s table and he looks away when you do. “Oh, just don’t mind him,” you wave Hajoon off. “Maybe I remind him of someone or something.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you feel him tense even more, as you look up and see that he’s staring down the man on the other side. Hajoon’s had a bit to drink, and you know he tends to be cocky and irrational when he is. You groan once he shakes his head, saying he’s gonna give “that stranger” a piece of his mind because “he can’t be looking at my girl like that.”

The initial annoyance you feel turns into panic once he stands from his seat and storms to the other table. You follow him, with your friends just looking in worry. His friends are more encouraging of what he wants to do though. 

“What the fuck is your problem staring at my girl like that?” Hajoon mumbles, acting all tough when he’s never threatened nor confronted anyone like this, even when he’s drunk. 

Jungkook seems taken aback. Perhaps it’s the aggression he didn’t expect, or maybe it’s finally having to acknowledge your presence in the restaurant, just in an unfortunate way. 

“Your girl?” He scoffs. 

The way the man is speaking to him is quite annoying, but he also knows your boyfriend is slightly drunk, so he dismisses him because Jungkook doesn’t need this drama tonight, especially not in front of you. 

Hajoon hates the way this stranger is looking at him and not taking him seriously. He’d seen how he kept glancing at you, perhaps trying to get your attention away from him, and he’s really had enough. His words are slurring but this is the courage he needs to stand up for you. You’ve said before how unwanted attention makes you uncomfortable, and he’s gonna do something about it before the man gets to try anything with you. 

“Yeah, my girl. You seem to have a problem with that, don’t you?” Hajoon grunts. 

“My only problem is you making a scene right now,” Jungkook shakes his head. “You’re drunk and insecure and you’re embarrassing yourself in front of your girl.”

Not that you expected him to back off, but you didn’t actually think that Jungkook would further press Hajoon’s buttons. The man is drunk and insecure and indeed embarrassing, but getting told so is a blow to the ego, especially in your presence. And so you’re not surprised that this just makes him angrier, and since you’ve never dealt with this version of him before, you don’t know how to pacify him.

You didn’t actually think that Hajoon had a daring bone in his body despite being the way he is, but when he attempts to lunge at Jungkook, you’re left in disbelief. You’re quick enough to pull Hajoon back before he lands a fist on the other man’s face, but he’d been worked up enough that he hits the glass of wine on the table, knocking it over and causing the drink to spill on Jungkook’s thin white top. 

“Mr. Jeon!” You shriek, pulling Hajoon back more forcefully before pushing him to the side so you can get ahead. 

You take the napkin from the table and wipe Jungkook’s wet clothed torso, slowing down immediately as you realize what exactly it is you’re doing. 

“I… uh,” you stutter, standing straight up and mirroring his questioning eyes. 

It was a reflex for you, considering that you constantly make sure that he’s dressed impeccably. 

“You know him?!” Hajoon asks in disbelief, tugging on your hand now so you’ll turn to him.

“He’s my boss, you idiot!” smacking him on the chest as you glare at him. “And you just put my job in jeopardy and for what?”

“Well, what can he do?” Hajoon challenges. “Get you fired because of me? Does he own the company and shit?”

“My father does,” Jungkook responds. “And I’m the Vice President.”

Hajoon just rolls his eyes but you aren’t amused. You glance at your table and gesture for one of his friends to take him, so one of them does. He stands up and pulls Hajoon away before he can do or say anything else.

“I’m so, so sorry, Mr. Jeon,” you say, your head bowed down as you apologize. “I…” 

The mess on his outfit is too much; the red has stained the white top and you know he feels sticky. He looks like he has somewhere to go after this and that makes it worse.

“I– I can call Mr. Ri to get the car in here. I can get extra clothes from your travel bag,” you say, knowing that Jungkook always has a bag filled with clothes for emergency flights or check-ins. 

You get your phone and make a call, telling Jungkook that his chauffeur will be here soon. You glance towards your friends who are still pacifying a drunk Hajoon, and you decide that they can handle all that. Right now, your priority is Jungkook.

You walk out towards the car that’s on hazard mode outside the restaurant and pick out the top that’s most appropriate for a night out, which happens to be a semi-loose black button-up. You head back inside, with Taehyung and Seokjin informing you that Jungkook has gone to the washroom, so you scurry towards there and knock at the door.

“Mr. Jeon, I have your black long sleeves here,” you say as your knuckles tap on the wood. “Just tell me–” 

You’re interrupted by the sudden opening of the door, the sight of Jungkook in his jeans hanging by his waist and his unbuttoned white top catching you by surprise. His hair’s a bit damp and so is his bare torso, as you see that he’s tried to clean the wine off his body. 

You catch yourself looking longer than you should, and you immediately look away as you hand him over what he needs. 

“Please let me know what else you need, sir,” you say, your eyes glued to the pretty wallpaper as you awkwardly stand outside the washroom. 

“Jungkook,” he says, earning him a curious look. “I mean, you don’t need to be formal. We’re not at work.”

You nod, realizing it does sound weird to address him as such in a casual setting. 

“Okay… Jungkook,” you mumble, but even the way it rolls off your tongue is a bit odd. You’re not used to it, and you hope you won’t ever be. 

He closes the door and you take this time to calm yourself down. You’ve been so worried since you saw the glass tip over and mess up his outfit, and given his hot-headedness, you’re a little surprised that he didn’t fight back. He does have a reputation to uphold but even then, stopping himself from punching Hajoon must’ve taken a lot. 

The door opens and you sigh in relief; his outfit still looks good and he’s fully clothed, so there’s no lingering looks this time anymore. You take the top that he gives you, and you take the chance to apologize.

“I’m so sorry,” you start. “I don’t know why he— I mean, he’s a bit drunk and he’s not usually like this.”

“You’re not the one who should apologize so don’t,” he responds. 

“Well, he won’t apologize so I will.”

“You didn’t spill the drink and you didn’t come at me. That was him,” he counters. 

You just shrug, choosing to just concede. “I’ll just return this to Mr. Ri.”

He calls your name before you turn around to leave. 

“I didn’t mean to cause a rift between you and your boyfriend,” he says, much too low and too gentle than you’re used to. “I hope I didn’t ruin anything.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you answer softly. “We just, uh, we just hang out.”

You don’t know why you feel the need to correct this misinformation. Maybe you just want to remind yourself because you’re not anyone’s anything; hearing Hajoon claim you as yours made you want to just create that distance even more.

Jungkook wants to push it, to ask more. The man clearly acts like he’s your lover, given the physical affection and the way he tried to stand up for you. But there’s a bit of shame as you state that you and the man “just hang out,” and there’s that wonder he feels - how can you be with someone without being with them, and if turning away people who are clearly into you is a tendency you have. There’s Min Yoongi, after all, who’d liked you enough to remain as your friend when you needed one despite how he felt.  

“Okay then,” Jungkook nods. “And your job’s not in jeopardy. Don’t take responsibility for a stupid act you didn’t do.”

You bow in thanks, not much used to this side of him that’s understanding and even calm. You suppose he’d seen you worry about your job, had seen you look embarrassed over something that you didn’t even do, and perhaps he saw the discomfort over how Hajoon was talking about you. 

You’re about to walk out of the hallway when his call of your name stops you again, prompting you to turn around.

“About earlier… did I… did I make you feel uncomfortable?” He asks, the worry in his voice surprising you. 

You debate over playing it down or telling the truth, but you go with the latter. 

“A… a little,” you admit, looking away. 

You hear him sigh, and there’s a look of guilt in his eyes as you turn to him. 

“I’m so—”

The footsteps of another diner in the hallway disrupts him, and you both make way so he can use the washroom, too. Perhaps you and Jungkook had taken so long, and you don’t want others to conspire about what’s happening, so you walk out and tell him again that you’ll just return his clothing to Mr. Ri. 

From your table, Soomin and Jimin watch the awkwardness of your parting of ways, with you scurrying out the door and Jungkook returning to his seat with a deep sigh before glaring at Hajoon.

“He does sound and look like an asshole, aside from being hot,” Soomin observes. “That’s totally ___’s type.”

“Are you saying she likes her boss?” Jimin asks incredulously. 

“I’m just saying that’s her type, not that she likes him,” Soomin corrects. “There’s a difference. I still hate him for making things hard for her. I wish he would stop treating her like that. You and I know she won’t quit anytime soon. Especially because he’s a Jeon.”

“I know,” Jimin sighs. “I wish we could protect her from all this, too. But she’s always done what she wanted to do. And we wait for her to tell us when things are hard; we just hold her hand whenever it is.”

“That’s all we can do, I guess,” Soomin responds. “Sometimes though I wish she’d just… let someone else do more than just hold her hand, you know? It could’ve been Yoongi, or even Hajoon before all this mess. It could’ve been you.”

“You know that’ll never happen,” Jimin laughs bitterly, with Soomin knowing exactly what he means. “You’re only ever just her friend or her lover; you can’t be both.”

Soomin hums in agreement, as she’d seen you draw the line with the men you’d come across with. You’d make it clear if friendship is all you want; you’d be straightforward if it’s just sex you’re seeking. You give either just your heart or your body and you’re always careful not to give both. There are parts of you that you don’t want to share, that you don’t want to expose to them; there’s a kind of hurt that you don’t want to experience. 

They watch you walk back inside and then head to their table, where you sit next to a buzzed Hajoon who still has half a mind to look at you guiltily. 

“I think I’ll head back home after this,” you tell the group. “Kinda not in a partying mood anymore.”

Your other friends apologize on Hajoon’s behalf, proceeding to ask you if that was really your boss and if he’d threatened your job because of it, remarking that it would be such an asshole move of him to do that or to even get mad at you for something you didn’t do. 

You come to Jungkook’s defense; he didn’t say anything to that effect at all. Perhaps you’d been the unfair one who assumed that he would - that he’d demand that you apologize, that he’d use this against you. 

“He’s… not like that,” you say, meaning it. You turn to your best friends who have disagreeing looks. “He… he tried to apologize for making me feel uncomfortable,” you say softly. “No one’s ever done that before.”

“Look, ___,” Hajoon starts, but you cut him off. 

“I don’t really wanna talk about it,” you sigh. “I’ll just pay my bill and head out.”

You, Soomin, and Jimin all pay accordingly and then leave the restaurant, with you turning to Jungkook and his friends, bowing as a form of goodbye.

“Hey, why don’t we buy desserts at a convenience store and have our own party at your place?” Jimin suggests as you all settle in his car. 

“That would be nice,” you hum. “This outfit wouldn’t be such a waste then.”

So that’s what you do, as your best friends treat you to all the snacks you love - a usual occurrence, really, as they used to do that back in Busan to cheer you up during the days when you were feeling sad. It’s one of the things that you allow them to spoil you with and they take advantage of that, as you go home with weeks’ worth of goods for you to enjoy.

You also picked up some drinks on the way, so you play some music and dance around with your wine glasses and take shots in between. It’s too early to be drunk but 11PM might as well be 3AM. You’re all seated snugly in your tiny couch as you watch some variety show on mute, laughing at the hosts' antics even if you can’t hear anything. 

“Tonight wasn’t so bad,” you huff, leaning on Soomin’s shoulder as you doze off. “Both of you are all I need. Thank you for never disappointing me.”

They know you don’t always let yourself be this sentimental. They also know that when you do, all you want is for them to listen and to hold you. And that’s what they do, as you eventually clean up and fall asleep on the mattress with them, the events from earlier slowly fading away.

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[hierarchyproblem]

I used to volunteer at a charity that gave out food to homeless people on the evenings. They got a lot of donations - excess stock from the amazon warehouse, that kind of thing - so they also distributed supplies to homeless shelters and womens' shelters and stuff. My job was loading and unloading the vans, sorting donations, and cleaning the big warehouse that they rented. I got on especially well with one of the other guys there; he was an old-school anarchist and a wilderness outdoors type who spent half his time living out of a tent in the middle of nowhere in Scotland, so he had stories and shit. I think he was in a kind of long-term homeless-by-choice situation; when he wasn't up in his mountains sometimes he'd squat in the warehouse and store his stuff there while he was between other accomodation. The charity was cool with that, he'd been with them for a long time and they knew the deal and they had the space.

Except one day one of the directors or whatever came down and threw his shit out onto the street and told him to be gone by the end of the day or he'd call the police. No idea what precipitated that and I never saw this guy again. Writing this out it seems insane: surely he must've done something to precipitate that? Nobody so much as suggested that at the time. I heard what had happened from one of the drivers, and he said the fucked up thing about it was that this chair of trustees (or whatever his role was) was prestigious and well-off enough he could've got any hotel in the city to put this bloke up indefinitely just by asking! But he chose to fuck up this guy's living situation as far as I could tell just to flex his property rights.

I always knew, obviously, that charity is at best a superfical treatment only of the symptoms of capitalist society, and totally orthogonal to the revolutionary change that'd be needed to actually fix the social and economic problems of this shitty society. Of course. But this is what opened my eyes to how much abuse and exploitation goes within the charity sector itself. This is the worst I've heard of, but the same principles are rife: poor conditions, long hours, ducking your workplace rights if you're "just helping out occasionally," poor pay for paid staff and volunteers treated like they're disposable. It shows too how easily a charity for homeless people can end up writing off the people they're set up to help, especially if they refuse to passively accept the little that's on offer. Not every charity has all of these problems, but a lot have at least some. And the guys at the top end up running it like a business 'cause that's how everything's expected to be run; if you've got upper-management experience that's how you see the world.

I don't volunteer there anymore and I'd think very carefully before giving any of these organisations your time or your money. There's homeless people in your area I bet - give them your cash directly and spend the time chatting with them if they like.

[zeltqz]

hohihiwhshwh i have a request where y/n is the girlfriend of a rival gang leader but doesn’t treat her right but then ran is interested in her that way with rindou and sanzu banter about

◈━◈━◈━◈━◈ temptations | haitani ran ◈━◈━◈━◈━◈

pairing. tokyo manji!ran x fem!reader

word count. 8.1k

contents. gold digger!reader, toxic relationship (not with ran), misogynistic views, infidelity, reader's boyfriend is a gambling addict, possessive boyfriend. NSFW contents. dirty thoughts, fantasising, fingering, squirting, multiple orgasms, safe sex, oral (both)

The room was polluted with cigarette smoke, flashy lights and far too much testosterone for you to handle without feeling uncomfortable. It was hard to keep your poker face as you sipped on your glass of water, sitting lonely, by yourself on a plush l-shaped couch in the corner of the room.

There was boredom written all over your face as you watched your boyfriend lose at snooker over and over and over again. With each loss of the game came a loss of money. Honestly you’ve lost count with his losses, rolling your eyes every time he curses loudly and makes a scene of throwing the stick at someone’s head for laughing at how much money he’s lost tonight.

He’s surrounded by his friends, none of which you cared enough to remember their names. All you know is they’re gambling obsessed horny fucks that don’t respect your boundaries when your boyfriend isn’t around.

Being the only girl in the room is awkward enough and it feels like a slap in the face when you spot other women in the room, a small glimmer of hope flashing your face as you desperately try to make eye contact with then—hoping they can use that telepathic sense all women seem to have when it comes to each other—only for them to glance at you briefly, then ignore you and walk away. 

At this point you’re so lonely you’ll handle even talking to men but they also make a conscious effort not to talk to you. It’s hard making friends when you have such a possessive boyfriend like Kozo; he’s practically barking at anyone that even bothers to approach you, not liking other men close to his property . 

It’s like Kozo’s playing a constant game, getting you all dolled up and pretty, dangling you in front of other men at the club to grab their attentions, then the poor men who’ve fallen for the trap would get dragged outside by their collars and beat into a pulp on the streets for touching what’s his. 

It was a daily routine for you. Kozo would come to the club every Friday, bring you along for pointers and soaks in the attention you receive from his friends as they brag about how much of an eye candy you were. You knew you were nothing but a prize in his eyes, nothing but an accessory Kozo wears to make himself feel better. They gamble, play games, smoke, do drugs in the clubs and you sit on the nice couch for hours and watch Kozo win money.

Why are you with him, your friends wonder? Probably for the money. He was…nice to you on occasion, whenever he was in a good mood and he’d fuck you like he meant it, even counting in your pleasure. But those times were rare; the main reason you stay is because he takes you on a shopping spree with the money he wins from gambling, buying you nice jewellery, clothes, pays for your nails. 

You liked getting dolled up, he liked seeing you dolled up. The relationship was nothing but transactional. You came to that realisation that you had no feelings for him the day you came back from the bathroom and saw him with another girl, his arm around her waist as she hyped him up at the card table to win. You examined it for a moment, your presence practically invisible to all the men, and just wondered why you weren’t feeling angry that he’s practically got his hands on another woman. You watched deep in thought for what felt like five minutes and the only thing on your mind was if you’re still going on that shopping spree on Saturday. 

For the record, you did.

And it was fun. 

The ball gets hit into one of the holes and Kozo yells at the top of his lungs, loud enough to startle you; you watch the opposing team manhandle each other in a way that’s just so masculine , aggressive back and shoulder slaps that look like they sting. 

Your expensive presence caught the eye of a creep at the bar. Glancing in his direction, he looked twice your age, grey hairs marking his hair and beard and wearing a very creepy smile on his face, cigarette bobbing from his lips as he eyed you down with what he probably thinks is an attractive face. You know his type. Being at these bars all the time, you had time to analyse everyone and what types of men come to these bars.

There’s the occasional addicts: drug, gambling or alcohol addicts that come here to fuel their needs, then there’s the creeps like him, looking old enough to be your father but crave young, attractive girls in their early 20’s to spend all their money on. Then there’s the rich men that come through once every month or so. 

You’ve caught a glimpse of them a few times and there’s this one man that caught your eye many times, but he’s never looking in your direction. It hurts your ego a little bit, but you remember you’re in a relationship with a loyal (?), loving (??), giving—very much giving($)—boyfriend. 

Kozo looks in your direction for what seems like the first time in two hours and sees your eyes are staring at the creep. His face scrunches up when he glances over to the guy at the bar. 

“Hold my stick,” he grits out, slamming it firmly into his friends chest and rolls up his sleeves as he walks up to the bar. “Oi.” He slams his hand down on the bar top loud enough for everyone to stop doing what they’re doing and look over at the scene. “You got a staring problem?”

“What?” The guy puts his cigarette down. “No—no. I wasn’t looking at you—”

“Nah. Not at me. My girl .”

“Your…” The man tries to get another look at you before Kozo’s hand is on his chin, gripping it hard and redirects his gaze back to him.

“You’re really gonna look at her again while I’m here? Bold aren’t you.” Kozo cackles, slaps him on the back hard, ignores his yelp and leans in towards his ear, voice dropping dangerously low and whispers, “Meet me outside.”

From your seat across the room you could tell where this was heading and quickly stood up. Kozo looked positively murderous right now and you didn’t feel like running from the police tonight. Being the good samaritan you were, you stood up and walked over to Kozo, holding his arm tight.

He snaps his head back to look at you. “What?”

“I wanna go home.”

“Really?” He lets go of the man’s shirt and turns all 5’10”of him around to face you. “I haven’t won enough money yet baby. Don’t you want that new dress you were telling me about?”

“I do…but…” You bit your lip, stepping closer to him. “I wanna go home.”

“Whatever, you’ll live,” he grumbles, waving your concern away and nods back towards the couch. “Go sit down. I’ll be done soon.”

You attempt to plead at him with your eyes once more since your words clearly weren’t getting to him but his gaze was ice cold, unwavering, and you could see how serious he was about this. 

This wasn’t a battle you could win, you knew that and you accepted defeat, shoulders slumping as you walked back over to the couch. Fifteen more minutes pass and they’re doing more talking than gambling at this point. 

Kozo managed to hit the 8-ball too early and out of anger tossed his stick half way across the room, the impact snapping it in half as it hit the wall. Now they were waiting for another stick. 

Guess no shopping spree this weekend, you thought. Kozo was losing badly. 

“You might as well resign out now, Kozo. Better to leave broke but with your ego in tact.”

“I’m not fucking broke,” Kozo snaps, his bubbling anger slowly starting to spill out. 

You can tell he’s one snarky comment away from losing it and you need to get him out of here before he hurts someone. The last time he was in a bad mood he took it out on a random man waiting in line at the club and you could do nothing but watch from the sidelines as he beat the man half to death.

Kozo’s anger is something that scares you, and also another factor that stops you from leaving him. He’d never lay his hands on you though, he doesn’t want anyone touching his property, even including himself. You’re too precious to be bruised. But that didn’t mean you were safe if you ever broke up with him, since you won’t be his property by then. 

Too deep in your thoughts, you fail to notice him walking over to the couch.

“Get the fuck up,” Kozo frowns down at you. When you don’t move fast enough for his liking, he snaps. “I said get the fuck up !” He forcefully lifts you from the couch, squeezing your forearm in a tight grip that has you wincing, trying to pull him off. 

“Kozo you’re hurting me—”

“Didn’t you wanna fuckin’ go? Let’s go .”

“I’m coming, okay! Just let go,” you whine, grabbing his hand, trying to pry it off your skin. 

Once he let go, you clear your throat and move closer to him. In an attempt to calm him down, you run your hands up and down his chest, cuddling up to him. 

“Are you okay?”

The soft whisper of your voice did wonders to calm him, and he exhales heavily. 

“Yeah.” He kisses your forehead. “Sorry for snapping at you baby. I’m just…pissed off.”

You hum; your hands moving around his back and rubbing there. “It’s okay to get pissed. Just don’t get too upset. Control your temper, remember?”

He nods. “Yeah. I know.” 

You pull away and wipe your sweaty hands on the back of your dress. “Alright, let’s go.” He pulls you towards the door.

“Oi, Kozo.” Kozo pauses by the door, looking over his shoulder.

“If you play one more round you can win your money back.”

Kozo wrinkles his nose. “Nah. Pass. My girl’s tired anyway. Gotta take her home.” He pulls you closer to his side and kisses the side of your face. Kozo was about to begin walking again before the guy at the table spoke up.

“That so? I’ll double it then.” 

The mention of double the money had Kozo freezing on the spot. His body weight along was enough to make you recoil back to his side when you continued walking. 

“Double, huh?” Kozo smirks and you panicked at the interest dripping from his voice.

“No no no, Kozo baby he’s bluffing. I wanna go home,” you said, trying to get his attention back on you and away from the world of gambling and addiction.

Kozo let go of your hand and your heart sank to the floor. He walked over to the table and you wandered back over to the couch, standard procedure as usual. Right now, you could only hope he wins because if he loses for the second time and embarasses himself, it’ll be ten times harder to get him to cool down.

Ten minutes in, the couch dipped and look to your right at the gentleman that sat down next to you. “You look like you’re having fun,” he drawls out in a low, smooth voice.

Your eyes meet his own and you spotted a hint of teasing in them. The shade wasn’t anything you’d seen before, and you couldn’t take your eyes off his. 

The silence stretches out far too long to be considered normal and then you remember he was looking at you because he asked you a question. 

“Oh. Yeah. I am.” You gave a noncommittal shrug to your already non-committal answer and sunk deeper into the couch. “I’m great.”

Judging by the bland tone of your voice, he had a feeling you were lying. His head tilts to the side to get a better look at your side profile as you kept staring straight ahead, glaring daggers at Kozo. 

He readjusts himself in his seat, turning to face you. “Whatsa matter?”

You turn to look at him, your eyebrows pinched together in annoyance. “Do I know you?”

He grins, boyish and charming, and for a moment you regret your tone. “I’m Ran. You?”

Before you could say your name, a shadow falls over your face as Kozo stands over you, his eyes hard and seething as he glares at Ran. 

“That’s my girl.”

It takes Ran a few seconds before he’s looking away from you and onto Kozo, curling his eyebrow at Kozo. “That’s nice. What’s that gotta do with me though?”

“Stop talking to her?”

Ran glances at you, looking embarrassedly down at your lap. He decides to stand up, trying not to smile as Kozo’s shoulders slump downwards, watching in real time as his ego deflates to negative levels as Kozo realises the height difference.

“She can answer for herself, can’t she?” Ran asks, cocking his head at Kozo.

This was probably the first time you saw someone stand up to Kozo and you couldn’t help but feel intrigued, readjusting in your seat to get a better angle of these two men fight over you. 

Kozo’s eyes narrow slightly, too irritated to come up with a response.

Ran turns to look at you; your breath catches in your throat at the eye contact. 

“What’s your name?” he asks again. Your eyes slide over to Kozo but Ran tuts, shaking his head disapprovingly. “I’m asking you sweet thing, not him.”

The pet name had Kozo’s nose flaring, temper rising to impossibly hot and you could tell he was two seconds away from murder. Regardless of that, you smile, shift your entire body to face Ran and tell him your name.

Ran’s smile turns wolfish before he sits down heavily beside you, even closer than before, his knees practically touching yours.

“That wasn’t so hard,” he looks smugly over at Kozo, “was it?”

Kozo’s fists tighten as he watches Ran raise his arm to rest along the back of the couch, his hand barely brushing your shoulder. He sighs, closes his eyes to control his temper and lowers his voice to sound softer, more approachable and says, “What do you want Ran?”

Ran shrugs. “Just being friendly and a good host. She seems pretty lonely by herself here.”

Kozo’s eyes narrow. “Go be friendly somewhere else.”

“You forgetting who owns this club Kozo?” Ran sings Kozo’s name as he asks the question; you notice Kozo’s eyebrow twitch at Ran’s tone. 

“Are you threatening me Haitani?”

“Threats? Nah. Never that. ‘M better than that. My dad on the other hand…he’s not as kind as me when it comes to threats or kicking people out of his club.”

Kozo glares at Ran’s annoyingly smug face for a few more seconds before realising he cannot stand the sight of it anymore. 

“Want me gone so badly? Fine then.” Just like before, he yanks you upright by your arm, making you wince loudly. “We’re heading home now.”

Ran grabs Kozo’s hand effortlessly and all but rips it off your arm, then tugs you back down to the couch next to him. 

“I don’t appreciate you grabbing her like that.” His eyes were serious whilst his tone was playful. From this angle you couldn’t see Ran’s face clearly, only getting a good view of his side profile as he looks up at Kozo, but considering the way Kozo stiffens slightly as he stares at Ran’s face you could tell he was intimidated.

“It was a joke Haitani…jeez get a sense of humour. I don’t normally grab her like that. Chill.” Ran didn’t look impressed and Kozo swallows, nervously. “Okay…I won’t grab her like that again.” Kozo turns towards you, his voice softening a bit. “Come on baby. I’ll take you home now.”

This time, he grabs your hand as soft as he can and lifts you from the couch, making a show of readjusting your dress from when it rid up your thighs and heads towards the exit. You look back at Ran once last time, mouthing “thank you” with a small wiggle of your fingers, waving goodbye at him before disappearing from the room.

Ran exhales and leans his head back against the couch, closing his eyes when his brother sits down next to him.

“There a reason you’re picking a fight with Kozo today or what?” Rindou asks, taking a sip of his drink.

“Do I need a reason? What if I was just bored?” Ran peeks an eye open at his brother who was looking at him unimpressed. 

“What was the reason,” Rindou repeats, his tone indicating a direct answer asap. Ran doesn’t respond instantly and Rindou fiddles with his cup, moving it around to watch the liquid splash around. “It has nothing to do with that girl right?”

Ran stays quiet and Rindou scoffs. “Jesus christ.”

Ran laughs and shrugs. “What’s the problem? Can I not talk to girls anymore?”

“Single girls sure. You know how weird Kozo gets about that girl. The amount of dudes he’s beat up for even staring at her is wild,” Rindou says, reminding his brother of Kozo’s possessiveness as a warning, but Ran only takes it as a challenge.

“Yeah whatever.”

Rindou knows Ran isn’t fully listening, only digesting whatever he wants to hear to satisfy himself. “If you piss Kozo off, Dad’ll be angry. He comes here a lot and it’ll be a loss of money if he stops coming. Just…don’t do anything stupid.”

With that, Rindou stands up and left when Sanzu calls him over to play a round. Ran watches the two for a second, then begins thinking of his next move.

Meanwhile, Kozo slips into the front seat of his car after putting in more gas and turns to look at you, staring out the window staring into the night sky. He places his hand on your thigh to grab your attention. 

“Baby,” he says softly, waiting for you to meet his eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Stay away from Haitani, okay? He’s…weird…alright?” For the first time in forever, Kozo doesn’t feel any anger inside him and you feel like you’re looking at a totally different person, one that actually looks worried for your safety which is funny considering all the risky situations he’s put you in.

“Weird how?” 

He shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. Just promise me you’ll stay away from him.” He reaches out and grabs your hand. You meet his eye and see him staring intensely at you, awaiting your response.

“...okay, I will.”

The next time Kozo attends the club, he takes you with him as usual, standard procedure. It’s been a month since you’ve last been here, sitting on the same couch but you instantly slip back into routine, sipping on your water because Kozo refuses to let you drink without him next to you. 

Instead of snooker, this time Kozo decides to waste his money on another game called roulette, watching intently while trying to figure out the odds, never touching the table itself except to place his bets. There’s a man at the other end who spins the wheel, successfully taking Kozo's attention away from you completely. Sometimes you honestly wonder if he remembers you're still here with how hard he ignores your existence.

Still though, it gives Ran plenty of opportunities to stare at you, wondering what Kozo would say if he saw him doing so. Rindou's words ring in his mind momentarily and he's about to stop himself from approaching you when you shift on the couch a little, the movement exposing your leg again and for some reason, this only fuels Ran’s desire to look at you.

He can't explain why exactly; it just makes him want to reach out and grab your legs, pull them closer to his body and let his lips run up the length of your legs until they reached the perfect spot.

He glances over at Kozo across the room once more; he's not even paying attention to you. Perfect.

With that, Ran strolls over towards your couch from behind. Your back is against the couch and he bends down, resting his arms along the back of the couch and speaks into your ear, "Sitting by yourself again?"

You jump at the sound of his voice right by your ear and let out a soft gasp, flushing hot before smiling. “Don't scare me like that!" you clutch a hand over your heart, letting out a giggle.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.” His voice is deep and sexy, accentuated by the smirk he wears on his face as his lips brush the shell of your ear again. The hand that had clutched at your heart slowly falls to rest on your knee and you shiver at the contact.

"It's okay," you say in a quiet voice, trying to ignore the way your chest feels when he brushes against you. "I was actually starting to get bored." You smile and turn your head slightly to meet his eyes.

"Missed me did you?" He rests his chin on his arms folded on the couch, grinning widely.

"A bit," you admit, trying to look away but your eyes are magnetised to his face. A smile creeps across his lips and you know he's about to say something cocky.

"Then why'd you wait a month to come back here? I figured you'd want to visit me as soon as possible."

His words carry a certain arrogance about them, his smile revealing his intentions. If you didn't already know better, you'd think he wanted to get you into bed tonight. You squeeze your legs together at the thought, then your blood runs cold at the fact that Kozo hasn't even looked your way once during the entire conversation.

If you weren't so turned on by Ran's presence right now, Kozo's lack of care towards you would have bothered you.

"Who says I didn't want to visit?" you tease back, turning to face him fully, your leg shifting further on the couch.

"Then why didn't you?" With every word, he's shifting closer to you. Your thighs press together involuntarily when his eyes drop to your lips briefly.

"I kinda have a guard dog boyfriend," you say with a coy smile, looking at him with an almost teasing gaze, attempting to hide your obvious desire for him.

Ran looks past your body over at said guard dog boyfriend, Kozo's attention still focused entirely on the roulette game. He is rubbing his chin thoughtfully, eyes focused on nothing but the game. Ran has no idea how this guy could fumble so badly; he has a fine girl sitting on a couch and he’s busy winning money.

Your eyes never left his face when Ran looks away from Kozo back at you and you shoot him an awkward smile. “By the way I didn’t have the chance to tell you this last time but thank you.”

“For what?” Ran asks, backing away from your face to create a little distance and stands up straight, resting his hands along the back of the couch.

You look up at him, the height difference making your neck ache. “For defending me in front of him. It felt…nice. Thank you.”

Ran hides his surprise well and nods, unsure of what to say in the face of someone so sincere for doing the barest of minimums. He never considers himself a good boyfriend, having only had two girlfriends his entire life that never lasted longer than four months. He realised dating wasn’t for him but he knows for a fact he’s a better boyfriend than the shitty one on your arm. Honestly you deserved better, not only treatment wise but looks wise too.

Kozo isn’t ugly by any means but he’s average. Just average. In Ran’s eyes at least. Looking at you though, all dolled up tonight, dressed in what looks like an expensive dress, showing just the right amount of skin to drive him crazy. How Kozo’s attention is on a game rather than you makes no sense to Ran whatsoever. Even Ran’s hands are tingling to just touch the sides of your waist and thighs; they look so welcoming and have just enough space for him to slot his entire hand onto your thigh.

“Are you done staring?” you say, snapping Ran out from his stupor. His eyes were dreading to look away from your body to your face but he met your eyes, staring at him with those eyes of yours all shiny under the lights.

“You giving me permission to stare more?” Ran asks, smirking.

You try to hide your smile by looking down at your lap. After composing yourself, you look back up at him. “Flirting with me when my boyfriend is right over there?”

“Who said I’m flirting with you?” He rounds the couch and sits down heavily next to him, his colonge wafting in your direction. He smells so expensive you struggle to focus on anything but him.

He looks lazily at you with half-lidded eyes, and you felt your body tempertaure rising by the second, wondering if someone turned off the AC in the room. His eyes not-so-subtly drop downwards, over the swell of your breasts.

“If you’re not flirting with me then keep your eyes up.” You grin when he grins, both of you equally not taking the situation seriously.

He takes a sip of his drink before handing it to you. You didn’t hesitate to take a sip and the both of you kept passing the drink as you spoke to each other. He tells you about himself, you told him about yourself and how you dropped out of university because you couldn’t afford it anymore, and how Kozo basically took you off the streets to live with him in his house.

The more you drink, the more you loosen up and the alcohol basically forcing the words out of your mouth and you end up spilling how unhappy you were with Kozo, how money is the only thing keeping you around and the fact something deep inside you is just waiting for him to go bankrupt so you had an excuse to leave.

When it was Ran’s turn to speak, you found your self zoning out, your eyes wandering along his face, tracing the sharp cut of his jaw. Your mouth was tingling as you wondered if his skin felt as soft as it looks. His voice is what got you the most, it was so deep and seductive you couldn’t help but ask him pointless questions just to hear him laugh and respond. By this point your brain totally forgot about Kozo, in fact, it had you hoping some other girl caught his attention like last time just so you had an excuse to sneak away with Ran for even a minute.

Fuck, at this rate you’d be happy with even ten seconds of his time. As the alcohol raged through your body, you found your mind getting dirtier, imagining his voice in your ear whispering all kinds of dirty things he wants to do to you. He looks like he’d be good at dirty talk, knowing exactly what to say to turn you to mush.

You slide your eyes down to his hands resting on his lap and wonder just how big they’ll look on certain parts of your body. And just like that, you can feel them on your ass, squeezing and rolling the flesh between his fingers—those long, slender fingers—that look like they’ll fit wonderfully inside your pussy.

The thoughts were coming faster and getting dirtier and you shook your head to try shake the thoughts out but it wasn’t working. 

Your body knew what it wanted and it was him . It never reacted this way for Kozo and for once you’ve never wanted to just rip your clothes off for a man right here and now. You blink and nod every time Ran says something, hoping and prating he didn’t see the way you completely zoned out and allowed lust to fully take over. 

“Well?” he says after a few seconds of silence.

You blink again, confused. “Sorry, what?”

He chuckles (dear lord his voice) and speaks again. “I asked you a question.”

“A question…? Oh, sorry. I—”

“Was too busy thinking of me,” he finishes for you, that smirk back on his face as you gape at him, speechless. 

“I wasn’t—” Your voice came out too high—a clear indication you were lying— and so you clear your throat and tried again. “I wasn’t.” He’s smiling at you again, though he looks insanely hot wearing that cocky smirk, it still made you irritated nonetheless. “I wasn’t,” you repeated, furrowing your brows.

"Think he'll notice if you leave for a few minutes?" Ran asks you with a grin, making no attempt to hide the lust that's clouding his voice.

You bit your lip and shook your head quickly. With that, Ran stands and holds his hand out for you to grab.

You take it gratefully, your heart racing and your palms clammy. In seconds, you're being pulled off the couch, towards the door. For some reason, you feel as though you should be worried, Kozo's warning in the car replaying in your mind over and over again, but then you glance at Ran once more, his tall, lanky frame walking in front of you and your worries seem to disappear.

Rindou watches his brother take your hand and exit the room and rolls his eyes, not even the slightest bit surprised Ran would listen to his dick first rather than care about losing Kozo as a regular of the club. He downs the rest of his drink and heads over to the roulette table, determined to keep Kozo's attention on nothing but the game and not on the fact his girlfriend currently disappeared from sight with his brother.

Ran opens the door to a room titled VIP room, letting go of your hand and lets you walk in first. You turn around to the sight of him shrugging his jacket off and you instantly head towards the couch, shifting backwards until your back hit the couch arm. 

Ran follows, one knee on the couch as he cages you in between him and the arm. Your hands rise to his hair, looking up at him through hazy eyes before bringing him down closer. His lips brush against yours for a moment before he closes the distance. 

You couldn’t keep your hands off him, his broad shoulders, down to his waist, grabbing whatever you could muster. He groans into your mouth when your fingers rake up to his hair, scratching lightly.

His big hands spread your legs open, your dress riding up your thigh exposing more skin he’s been dying to touch, and slots himself between your spread legs. Your legs close around his waist, locking him in place as his tongue devours your mouth, licking lightly at yours until every inch of your patience is going haywire. 

The desire running through your veins make it so you don’t even care about what you’re doing, Kozo completely eliminated from your mind as you kiss him back as passionately as you can muster.  

His hand slides down the sides of your body, your waist, to your hips and he pulls away from the kiss to sit on his knees. Reaching behind him, he unlocks your legs from his body and spreads them open. You bite your lip and wriggle your hips to help him peel your panties off quicker. 

His fingers gravitate towards your cunt, soaking and ready for him. A small whimper leaves your mouth when his finger grazes your slit, moving upwards to your clit and rubs circles on it. Your mouth drops open as you pant softly at the sensation.

Satisfied, he inches forward, latches his lips onto your neck and sucks. His lips, plus the skilled movement of his fingers have your body working overtime, pleasure filling every pore of your skin as your back arches with every flick of his finger.

“Ran…” You’re the first to speak ever since entering the room and he hums in response against your neck, the vibrations echoing throughout your entire body.

“Yeah baby? Whaddya need?” His words, muffled from his face in your neck, still manage to reach you.

“I want…” you keen when his finger circles at your hole before pushing in, making your eyes squeeze shut at the intrusion. “Feels so good .”

“I know baby.”  He pulls out from your neck. “Boutta make you feel even better.”  

His hand pulls the top of your strapless dress down, revealing your bra. He kisses your breast exposed from the bra cup and bites down softly on the flesh. He hasn’t even touched your nipples yet and you were already aching for him. 

You throw your head back against the couch arm when you moan, biting down on your lip hard as his finger inside you reaches a place that’s never been touched by your own fingers, or Kozo’s. You feel a whole new world of pleasure, mind so dissociated from reality that you don’t even notice he’s pulled your bra cup down all the way and latches his mouth to your nipple, sucking rhythmically with hollow cheeks as he gets the most out of your reactions. 

He switches to the other nipple, flicking and rolling the other wet one with his spare fingers. He squeezes your breast as he sucks, adding another finger into your wet pussy and begins to fuck it faster just to hear the squelch and the sound of your moans getting louder, body squirming, writhing on the couch, unable to even function anymore.

“I’m gonna —ah fuck !” Your hand flies to your mouth and you scream into it, legs shaking uncontrollably, body twitching as his fingers keep thrusting in and out of you. It takes more than thirty seconds for you to regain control over your body and weakly attempt to push him off you.

“That was so hot baby.” He’s chuckling and bending down to your pussy, spreading your folds open with two fingers. He eyes the wetness in front of him, your juices leaking from your quivering hole, soaking the couch and your inner thighs. 

You’re panting heavily, hand smacked over your eyes as you try to rub the stars in your vision away before yelping when you feel him blow cold air onto your bare cunt. He watches the way your hole spasms, laughing to himself before inching forward, sealing his lips to your folds. 

He sucks and kisses along your pussy, his tongue flicking through your juices, your clit, and even protrudes your hole, entering without any warning. Your hands fly to his hair, trying to pull him off while simultaneously grinding his face against your pussy. 

His lips attach to your clit, sucking the bundle of nerves until a sound he’s satisfied with escapes your lips, then he’s re-entering his tongue into your pussy, licking around until you tug uselessly at his hair.

He loves seeing you like this, so broken and drunk on the feeling of his tongue and fingers. He had a feeling Kozo wasn’t satisfying you like he should be, and wants to raise the bar so high that you’ll never want to accept sex from a low-life scum like Kozo. Wants to raise the bar so high that you won’t be able to cum from a mouth that isn’t Ran’s, a cock that’s not Ran’s, or fingers that’s not his or your own. 

He’s so preoccupied in making you cum for a second time he doesn’t realise your legs are shaking uncontrollably again, unable to control yourself and you release on his face again except its more liquid than you’d ever produced before.

You fucking squirt on his face, on his tongue, and you want to sink into the floor from embarrassment. Ran pauses, pulls his face away from your pussy, completely drenched and looks at you peeking at him through a small hole you made with your hands covering your face.

“I’m so sorry—I—I told you to stop…” you try defend yourself but he’s pulling your hands away from your face.

“And you’re apologising for what? That was so hot baby.” He wipes his face with his shirt, uncaring of the huge wet stain on his perfectly ironed white shirt and  cages you back between him and the couch, his strong arms coming beside your head to hover above you. “You never done that before, right?”

You meekly shake your head and he grins, smug and proud of himself before bending downwards, capturing your lips in his. Your hands cup the side of his face and kiss him back softly, slowly, treasuring the feeling of his lips against yours, the way his tongue flicks playfully into your mouth.

“...Ran…” you whisper between kisses, obsessed with the taste, touch, feel of him. You can’t get enough. The way he feels against you, the sounds he makes when you make him feel good, the strength of his grip on your waist, the passion behind his eyes when he looks at you. 

You’ve never felt anything like it before.  Ran could get you off ten times in a row if he wanted to, and you’d happily let him.

Your hand travels from his cheek, around to his neck, eagerly meeting his kisses with soft moans, before running your spare hand down his chest to his pants, finally resting there and letting your fingers trail across the print of the dick poking through his pants. 

Ran smiles against your lips, opening his mouth and running his tongue up your neck and onto your ear lobe.

"I wanna make you feel good," you breath out shakily, hand still caressing the outline of his erection.  He moans a quiet "fuck okay" into your ear before shifting to sit on couch.

You get on your knees next to him, looking up at him and meet his lips again for another deep, intense kiss, then run your tongue down his jaw line, all the while unzipping his pants and pulling his cock out. Ran takes a hold of your head, moving your lips further down his throat, groaning softly when you begin to leave marks on his skin.

His cock twitches in your hand as you stroke it in movement with your lips on his neck, trailing the tip of your thumb on his shaft until you’re brushing against the slit, lightly swirling around.  Ran jerks your head away from his neck and locks eyes with you. 

"You drive me crazy," he admits quietly, watching you intently.

You bite your lip and take your spare hand, tugging playfully on one of his braids and lean in close, lips brushing his, "you're driving me crazy too." You shut him up with a kiss before he can respond, nibbling his bottom lip and slipping your tongue into his mouth hungrily. He moans into your mouth, tangling his tongue with yours, spending sparks of electricity coursing through you.

You slowly strip him from his shirt, making sure you don't miss any detail about his body, memorizing every curve and shadow. "Wanna drive you even crazier," you whisper and kiss down his stomach.

Ran's breathing is becoming heavier and his skin has become flush as he watches you inch your way down his torso, sucking and licking the light trail of hair going down his abs, until you finally come to a halt at his crotch. Sliding off the couch, you got on the floor on your knees and bend down until your lips brush the head of his cock.

Looking up at him, you take the first hesitant lick of his cock and watch him quiver slightly. His eyes burn with desire, hands gripping the sides of the couch tightly, his eyes watching every flick of your tongue on his length. You begin to lick and suck, going deeper each time and taking all of him in, sending shockwaves of pleasure through Ran's body.

You wrap your lips around his shaft, moving them up and down at the same pace, humming softly when a low moan escapes his lips, vibrating against your tongue as you continue to lick, swirl your tongue around the sensitive head. The way he smells, tastes and feels is intoxicating. Every lick sends more and more tingles down your spine, adding fuel to the fire already burning inside you.

After a few minutes of this slow blowjob, Ran stands up and helps you stand as well. "Get on the couch," he says, caressing your hips as you look at him expectantly.

"Okay," you giggle, obeying him.  He picks up his jeans and grabs a condom from his back pocket, slipping it on his cock as you crawl on top of the couch, on all fours and arch your back, inviting him to come closer, pushing your ass against him.

Ran kneels in front of you and guides the head of his hard cock to your wet entrance, rubbing it up and down over your slit, then pauses. You look back, about to ask what's wrong before he speaks first. "Actually, turn around. Wanna see your face as I fuck you."

His words send waves of heat through you and you lift yourself off the couch, turning around so that you're on your back. Ran licks his lips, spreading your legs wide open for him, eyes never leaving your own. The heat behind his eyes are so intense, you squeeze your eyes closed to avoid them.

His hands tilt your head up and then leans forward, kissing your forehead softly.  "Open your eyes, pretty," he whispers, nipping your earlobe gently.

You slowly open your eyes and glance up at him, seeing a smirk spread across his face, seeing desire and need there. His voice is strained and thick when he asks if you're ready. You bite your lip and nod yes, biting back a scream when his hot, throbbing length slips inside you.  It hurts a little but you manage to hide your wince by smashing your hand over your mouth.

"Shit," he curses under his breath and pulls almost completely out of you, only to slam himself back inside of you hard and fast. You gasp loudly, hands rising to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. Ran's hands come to rest beside your head, thrusting into you repeatedly, each thrust harder than the last.

"Faster," you pant and arch your back.

He continues to thrust, letting go of your hips, wrapping his arms around you instead. He grinds his hips into yours, whispering, "Fuck, you feel amazing, baby. Just as I thought you would be."  A small smile spreads across your face, "You alright?"

Your cheeks are flushed, feeling both turned on and embarrassed at the same time, "ye-yeah...I'm g—good," you stutter out when his hips start to move faster again.  Your hips start to meet his and the familiar pressure builds quickly.

The first few thrusts of orgasm hit you hard, pleasure shooting through your core, soaking your insides and causing you to tense up as your inner walls clamp down on Ran's length. Your body trembles beneath him, moaning loudly as you clutch his arms tighter, not wanting to let go, wanting him to keep fucking you forever.

As your climax subsides, the pressure releases its hold and he slams into you one final time, letting out a deep groan suffocated by the press of his face into your shoulder. His hips stutter as he fills the condom, thrusting weakly into your body once, twice, three times before coming down next to you on the couch, chest heaving, sweat glistening on his skin.

You lie on the couch, body still trembling from the intense pleasure you just experienced, trying to catch your breath. The feel of Ran's weight pressed onto you makes you relax, enjoying the warmth radiating from his body, letting out a soft purr of contentment.

He turns his head, resting it on your chest. "That was good, huh?" His head snaps up at the sound of your laughter. "Yeah? You enjoyed it?"

"Best I ever had," you say honestly, smiling slightly, holding his head in your hands and looking earnestly at him.

Ran looks away for a second, biting his lip. After a moment he looks back at you, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. "Leave that guy," he says out of nowhere and you blink at him.

"What?" you ask with confusion.

"Kozo, Kazoo whatever the fuck. Leave him." He drops his head onto your shoulder childishly, his hands clutching your bare back as he tugs you closer. "Don't wanna share you with that guy."

"You're already assuming I want you back. Moving a little fast, no?" you tease, giggling.

"I already know your answer, pretty. Stop playing dumb," he sighs dramatically and you raise an eyebrow, pulling away from him.

"Confident aren't you?"

"Am I wrong?" he sits up, bringing his legs off the couch, coming closer to you. "That guy treats you like literal shit. There's no possible way you're thinking about staying with him."

You shrug and look down at your lap. "He buys me nice things. I don't wanna lose that."

Ran inches closer to your ear, his hot breath making you shiver. "Can buy you better things," he says, trailing his fingers along your jawline. "Can treat you better too."

He grabs your chin, turning your face towards his, planting a firm, chaste kiss on your lips.  When he pulls away he smiles widely at you, biting his bottom lip. "Say it," he whispers.

You swallow nervously, looking up at him, debating whether or not you should give in. "Alright..."  you mumble, looking up at him with a big smile on your face. “I’ll leave him. But you gotta take me out on a nice date.”

“Bet.” He presses a long, firm kiss on your forehead. “Now lets get you outta here.” 

Ran helps you put all your clothes back on, and by help it means trying to slip them off everytime you tug them back on. After giving into temptation, another ten minute make out session on the couch—with your clothes on—you finally pick up the ten missed calls and texts from Kozo asking where the hell you were.

You look at Ran, asking for help on what to say. 

“I have an idea. Give it here.” He held his hand out for you to give you his phone. You look at him sceptically, the look on his face screaming all sorts of mischief.

“You won’t do anything weird, right? I wanna end things with him but I don’t want him to hate me.”

“Uh-huh,” he responds, clearly not paying attention as he taps away at your phone. You wait for him to finish and turns the phone off and hands it back to you. “Ran what the hell did you do?”

“Blocked him.” He stands up when you gape at him, shocked. 

“What the fuck? I told you not to do anything weird…” Your voice gets lower and quieter when his hand skirts around your hip, pulling you closer to him. “Ran…I’m serious. He’s going to be so mad at me when he—”

“He’s not gonna do shit. Now put your coat on, lemme take you home.” 

You do as he says and when you’re leaving the club with Ran’s hand in yours, you pretend not to see Kozo eyes wide with shock, turning to anger when Ran smirks in his direction, his hand snaking to your lower back to help guide you out the door like the ever so respectable gentleman he is.

mr steal yo girl is back hehe

Not proof read so ignore any mistakes plz

[saminthea]

Anyone else completely obsessed with the new Enola Holmes movie? Like I was fully expecting a fun, pseudo historic pop feminist romp and instead I got...

"Hey big companies are corrupt and *will* straight up kill people for profit. And also the system is really ill equipped to deal with that kind of corruption, the best and often only way to instill change is through worker's collective action."

Which is like. Good soup!

On top of that the Holmes' mom is part of a group that destroys property in protest for women's rights, and it's treated like, morally quirky at worst? Most media with these types of characters pull the "you're just as bad as your oppressors for resorting to violence" bs. But here it's just "yeah, that's Mom lol!"

Also basic no think bonus points for actually including dark skinned black women. Lots of modern 'diverse' historical fiction has a lot of trouble with that.

Also can I just gush about how much I *adore* this iteration of Moriarty? She's so well portrayed with that perfect "smarter than everyone in this room, life's a game, let's play" vibe. She's suave and soft spoken and so obviously delighted by having found a 'worthy' opponent in Sherlock. I can't wait to see her again.

Also it might be the lingering middle school Sherlock fangirl in me but when they introduced Dr. John Watson I just about *screamed*.

Overall, A+ movie. Thoroughly enjoyed myself and I didn't even have to turn my brain off to do it.

[commsroom]

as an extension of how hera reads as trans to me, hera/eiffel resonates with me specifically as a relationship between a trans woman and a cis man. loving hera requires eiffel to decentralize his own perspective in a way that ties into both his overall character arc and the themes of the show.

pop culture is baked into the dna of wolf 359, into eiffel’s worldview, and in how it builds off of a sci-fi savvy audience’s assumptions: common character types, plot beats, or dynamics, why would a real person behave this way? how would a real person react to that? eiffel is the “everyman” who assumes himself to be the default. hera is the “AI who is more human than a lot of humans,” but it doesn’t feel patronizing because it isn’t a learned or moral quality; she is a fundamentally human person who is routinely dehumanized and internalizes that.

eiffel/hera as a romance is compelling to me because there is a narrative precedent for some guy/AI or robot woman relationships in a way i think mirrors some attitudes about trans women: it’s a male power fantasy about a subclass of women, or it’s a cautionary tale, or it’s a deconstruction of a power fantasy that criticizes the way men treat women as subservient, as property. but what does that pop culture landscape mean in the context of desire? If you are a regular person, attracted to a regular person, who really does care for you and wants to do right by you, but is deeply saturated in these expectations? how do you navigate that?

I think that, in itself, is an aspect of communication worth exploring. sometimes you won’t get it. sometimes you can’t. and that’s not irreconcilable, either. it’s something wolf 359 is keenly aware of, and, crucially, always sides with hera on. eiffel screws up. he says insensitive things without meaning to. often, hera will call him out on it, and he will defer to her. in the one case where he notably doesn’t, the show calls attention to it and makes him reflect. it’s not a coincidence that the opening of shut up and listen has eiffel being particularly dismissive of hera - the microaggression of separating her from “men and women” and the insistence on using his preferred title over hers. there are things eiffel has just never considered before, and caring for hera the way he does means he has to consider them. he's never met someone like hera, but media has given him a lot of preconceptions about what people like her might be like.

there’s a whole other discussion to be had about the gender dynamics of wolf 359, even in the ways the show tries to avoid directly addressing them, and how sexual autonomy in particular can’t fully be disentangled from explorations of AI women. i don’t think eiffel fully recognizes what comments like “wind-up girl” imply, and the show is not prepared to reconcile with it, but it’s interesting to me. in the context of transness (and also considering hera’s disability, two things i think need to be discussed together), i think it’s worth discussing how hera’s self image is at odds with the way people perceive her, her disconnect from physicality, how she can’t be touched by conventional means, and the ways in which eiffel and hera manage to bridge that gap.

even the desire for embodiment, and the autonomy and type of intimacy that comes with it, means something different when it’s something she has to fight for, to acquire, to become accustomed to, rather than a circumstance of her birth. i suppose the reason i don’t care for half measures in discussions re: hera and embodiment is also because, to me, it is in many ways symbolically a discussion about medical transition, and the social fear of what’s “lost” in transition, whether or not those things were even desired in the first place.

hera’s relationship with eiffel is unquestionably the most supportive and equal one she has, but there are still privileges, freedoms, and abilities he has that she doesn’t, and he forgets that sometimes. he will never share her experiences, but he can choose to defer to her, to unlearn his pop culture biases and instead recognize the real person in front of him, and to use his own privilege as a shield to advocate for her. the point, to me - what’s meaningful about it - is that love isn’t about inherent understanding, it’s about willingness to listen, and to communicate. and that’s very much at the heart of the show.

[throneofsapphics]

old faces, part three

Rowaelin x f!Reader

Summary: you and Rowan meet again, and deal with the fall-out of your secret. 

Warnings: violence, descriptions of violence, death, minor injury, drinking

Word Count: ~5.3k

A/N: more rowaelin in the next chapter! coming late tonight/tomorrow if everything goes according to plan

series masterlist

True to their word, you didn’t see Aelin or Rowan before their departure yesterday. Fenrys came by once, letting you know they’d spoken to the future Emperor and Empress, and that they’d be keeping an eye out for you. You never saw them, but you sensed their presence. It brought a small bit of comfort. Not enough to let your guard down. 

Overwhelmed. That’s how you felt. Ceri and Ani seemed thrilled at the ‘new adventure,’ even more excited it was a secret, that they couldn’t tell anyone exactly when they were leaving and where they were going. Reya had been a mixture of contemplation and excitement but you - you were an anxious mess. 

New challenges, and more exposure you couldn't avoid. You were nervous for Ceri, above all. Nervous about how she’d be treated, about what this meant for her. At least she’d have her best friend with her. The vague plan was to visit a few different parts of Terrasen, starting with Orynth, and if the trial went well, it would be a group decision on where to settle. 

“You’re nervous.” Reya commented, you shot her a look and she held her hands up in a placating gesture. “Have you decided what to do with your home?” 

Home. A pleasant surprise in your mother’s will. A home you fully intended to keep in the family. But, Reya’s asking if you’ll rent it out or not. It would be easy to let magic seal it up, but if you rented it, you could deposit the money into a bank account and leave you with a fund if you ended up back here. 

The last week had been a gods-damned whirlwind, giving you barely a moment to rest. Liquidating your assets, downsizing, late nights finishing up projects, informing vendors you’d no longer have goods available, pulling the girls from school, and more. 

“Renting would be a good option,” you finally replied. Reya nodded, she was doing the same thing - and you trusted her sister to take care of both properties - for a fee of course. At least there was someone you could trust. 

“They’re going stir-crazy,” Reya commented. You could see it too, the frustration on their faces at being cooped up. “The park is right around the corner.” 

“It’s risky,” you hesitated. 

“We all need it.” 

You couldn’t argue with that, or with the excitement on their faces as you told them. Still, you slipped a trusted knife into a sheath under your dress. On the way, Reya reminded them to keep their ‘adventure’ secret. To answer ‘I don’t know,’ if anyone asks questions, and to inform the two of you. No chances. 

There were a few other women there you vaguely recognized, and children both Ani and Ceri sprinted towards. They climbed over the various obstacles, running around and making up different games. Ceri, of course, took the lead in organizing everyone, directing them like a general. What would Rowan think if he was here? Probably pride. And maybe alarm at just how wild his daughter ran. Her Fae heritage let run and climb faster, and it took away a certain sense of self-preservation.

“Will she be immortal as well?” Reya murmured quietly. 

“Most likely,” you admitted. Maybe in a selfish way, you really hoped she would. If you had to watch her grow old … you shoved the thought to the back of your mind. There was enough to worry about for now. 

Three hours later, the two of them exhausted enough energy to start asking for dinner, and agreed to leave. The break was good for you, the fresh air and walk in your city calming your nerves. Another chance to see it - your shelter and safe haven. 

Ceri held your hand on the twenty minute walk, chattering about the games she’d played, her enthusiasm and joy confectious. Ani was doing the same to Reya in front of you. 

Just around the corner, the hair on the back of your neck pricked. Something was wrong. 

“Reya,” you called, voice just drifting over the wind, laced with warning. Her head swirled, the whites around her eyes showing and you mouthed; act natural. Letting your senses take over, you listened in for movements, for heartbeats, for whatever the hell was out there. 

A magic you didn’t recognize was present, and probing at the wards on your home. A male, mortal, magic wielder. Across the street, but still too gods-damned close. You needed to get inside, to get into safety. 

Throwing up what you hoped was a discreet shield, you kept your pace and body language natural as you approached. First thing you learned; don’t let them know. But, Ceri had picked up on it, her hand tightening around yours, head on a swivel. Quickly, you spared a glance at her; trust me, you tried to say, and she gave you a small nod. You prayed you’d show yourself worthy of that trust in the next few minutes. Maybe some of the emperor and empresses ‘eyes’ were nearby. But, no sense in hoping or relying for something that might not be true. 

Thirty paces away, male disappeared, cloaked from your sight- but you could sense his location. Reya fell back with Ani to walk next to you.  It was Ceri they were after, and that brought lethal focus to your mind. Let those instincts rise, the instinct to protect your family and friends. 

Ten paces, Reya’s nerves were showing but she kept herself loose, putting her trust in you. 

Everything happened within a minute, but each second dragged on. You had the seconds to shove them back behind the gate, throwing the wards up. Reya knew to drag the girl’s inside - Ceri’s yells and shouts echoing in your ears. If you went in as well, there wasn’t anyone to stop him from trying to shatter the magic, and you couldn’t do shit from behind them. 

The bits of training you picked up over the years came into play, the glint of a knife in front of you, and you thanked the immortal reactions and senses you’d been born with - gifting you an advantage. A knife flew to your shoulder, you dodged, shifting again as he threw another - shallowly slicing across your cheek. You palmed your one fighting knife, the pain fading into the background, and slashed across his forearm, severing his tendons. The dagger clattered, metal echoing off the cobblestones, copper scent filling the air. 

He spat a curse, and you danced around each other, before landing another slice. Blood spurted from his arm in rivets - eerily like a fountain, and you heard the whistle. 

An archer on the opposite roof, gesturing to the side. They needed a shot that wouldn’t risk hitting you. You hoped they’d leave him alive - you had several questions for him. They got their shot a second later, and you watched as an arrow lodged through the man’s skull, his body flopping to the pavement in front of you. So much for your questions. 

You prayed Reya had shielded their view. 

A plain-clothed guard was there in seconds, and you let your back hit the wall behind you, adrenaline still coursing through your veins, and used your dress to clean the blood from your knife. It was ruined anyway, a little more blood wouldn’t make a difference. The strange sense and scent of death filled the air as slid it back into your sheath, focusing on one movement at a time, keeping yourself grounded. 

You tried, you really tried, not to hate Rowan in that moment. It’s not his fault, not his fault he’s the father. He’d mentioned the target, the risk and dangers, but it hadn’t quite set in until that moment. Stupid, you were stupid for leaving the house. If anything, it was your fault. By some miracle, none of your neighbors were peeking their nosy heads out. 

Reya’s muffled voice came from the garden. Gods, she must be screaming at the top of her lungs for you to hear her. You turned, giving her a ‘thumbs up.’ It felt childish, considering someone had just threatened your lives, but she returned with a tense smile, one arm barely holding back a furious Ceri. Ani tucked behind her, head just poking out. 

“I’m fine,” you mouthed to your daughter. She signed back - you were a bit surprised she remembered that language, it had been a while since you used it. 

You’re bleeding. 

Not my blood. I need you to keep Ani calm. 

Give her something to do, a task, and she’d focus on it. Sure enough, it worked and she tugged her friend back inside. 

The guards had multiplied, at least seven of them on the surrounding street now. And - a certain blonde haired male sprinting down the street. Fenrys stood by your side as you answered all of their questions. The magic shielding the house behind you didn’t waver, not for one second. 

“You should get that looked at,” Fenrys murmured, as the body was carted off, a small crowd dispersing, and one official-looking woman promising updates. 

“Hm?” Your eyes flicked to him. He gestured to your cheek, to the cut already healing.  

“It scarred.”  

The small sting had faded to the back of your mind. Frowning, you ran two fingers over your face, an angry raised red line. That shouldn’t be there, not unless … you crouched to the ground, snatching the same knife that cut you. 

“Iron,” you murmured. 

“Still shouldn’t leave a scar,” Fenrys took a step closer, eyeing the weapon. 

You twisted the blade in your hand, surprised the guards hadn’t already picked it up. Marks etched into the handle, marks you recognized. 

“He was a magic wielder,” you had his full attention now, “it’s not … cursed, but enchanted to leave a scar.”  

Your fist white-knuckled around the handle. He meant to mar your daughter. 

“Can you let us inside?” Fenrys requested, distracting you from the pure wrath filling every inch of your body. The guards had finished their questioning, some now obviously stationed down the street - another archer joining the previous one. 

You willed the magic to bend slightest bit, enough for the two of you to slip inside, before slamming it shut again. 

“How soon can you be ready to leave?” Fenrys’s voice was insistent. You had a feeling he’d drag you to the ship soon if he had to. 

“Aren’t we traveling with you?” 

Fenrys nodded, and paused for a moment. “Can you be ready tomorrow by dusk?” 

You’d wrapped up the last of the ‘official’ business this morning, intending to give you a week to sort things out at a leisurely pace. But, words were too much right now, everything was too gods-damned much, so you answered with a nod. By tomorrow would be stressful, but doable. 

“We’ll leave then. I’ll announce we’re leaving at dawn the day after.” Smart, giving a false departure. “Only us, the captain and the crew will know, and they won’t know who it is until we board,” Fenrys continued - maybe more to reassure himself than you. Part of you wondered why he was going through the effort but … Rowan was his bloodsworn brother, maybe he felt some kind of duty to the two of you. 

“How’d you get here so quickly?” You asked the question lingering in the back of your mind. 

“I didn’t. I was already on my way.” Fenrys’s mouth opened, and you could read the next word, 

“Say sorry and I’ll kick you in the balls.” 

He winced, and feigned sealing his mouth shut. 

The door slammed open, knocking into the wall, and Ceri sprinted out, silver hair flowing behind her. You braced yourself as she slammed into you, arms wrapping around your stomach. 

“I kept Ani calm,” she whispered, squeezing you tighter. 

“I’m proud of you,” you ran your non-bloody hand through her hair. 

After a few minutes, she released you. Her small hand reached up, and you stayed still as she ran a finger on the scar. “Why would he do that?” 

When you hesitated, Ceri turned to Fenrys, as if he might have the answer. Her green eyes nearly bore a hole through his head. 

“Sometimes people do bad things and we don’t know why,” he answered slowly, “but everyone’s safe now.” 

“What happened to him?” She turned back to you. 

“He died,” a small tension left your chest - she hadn’t seen it. 

“You killed him?” Her head tilted, no judgment - just curiosity and a desire to gather all of the facts. 

“No, I didn’t,” you anticipated the next question, “and neither did he. One of the royal guards did.” 

Ceri mumbled something suspiciously like; I wish I killed him, and grabbed your hand - dragging you back inside. You shot an alarmed glance at Fenrys, whose mouth curved up at the corners. Seven years old, and already bloodthirsty. Maybe you should’ve questioned what kind of bed-time story Rowan told. 

“Just like her father,” he murmured, quiet enough only you heard. 

An inelegant snort left you, “I was thinking the same thing.” 

Reya’s eyes scanned you from top to bottom, and you were aware of the blood staining your skin and clothes. 

“Ceri,” she called, gaining her attention, “can you help me run a bath for your mother?” She looked at you for permission, you forced a soft smile, watching her take off after your friend, Ani’s dark hair flashing as well, never one to be left out.

“Are you going to insist on spending the night?” You didn’t look at him. 

An edged chuckle, “I'm afraid I will.” 

“Males,” you muttered under your breath, but shot him a grateful smile. Another set of eyes, another person to watch out for Ceri. Not that you’d get any sleep tonight. Reya returned a minute later, shoving a bundle of clothes in your hands, ushering you off towards the bathing room. 

Ceri was proud of the rose scents she’d chosen. Once, you’d loved Lilac - but you shedded that when you left Wendlyn. It hadn’t felt right anymore, it felt like an old version of you. The female left behind. Plus, it made you nauseous during your pregnancy. 

Fenrys didn’t leave for the rest of the night, entertaining the girls as you and Reya cooked, helping with the dishes, a perfect guest. Even with a spare room available, he insisted he’d crash on the couch closest to the door. He didn’t comment as you exited your room each hour, traveling past the sitting room to peek into where Ani and Ceri slept, both sound asleep. 

You caught maybe two or three hours of sleep total, but pure adrenaline kept you going the next morning. It spurred you and Reya into near-frantic packing, listening to Fenrys’s request to stay put when he left for a few hours. One small trunk each, plus one extra for books - your personal ones and school books. Everything else ended up in the attic, sealed off by magic. The tears stayed at bay as you deactivated the wards, dropping off the keys to Reya’s sister - who was informed less than an hour before, and vowed herself to secrecy. Everything about this felt so … cloak and dagger. Ceri and Ani viewed it as some grand adventure, but you and Reya were tense, entire bodies taut with nerves. 

With twenty minutes to go, you closed the door to the bathroom, hands bracing on the counter. An angry red scar ran diagonally across your cheek, still slightly lifted from your skin. If you adjusted your hair, just a bit, it mostly cloaked it from sight. Another permanent reminder. 

A nondescript carriage, made less discreet by armed guards, picked up the five of you just after sunset and took the long way through the city. It gave you a chance to see everything gaze through the window, making out a few details by moonlight. There’s no telling how long it would be before you see it again. Maybe a year, maybe a decade, but one day you’d at least come back to visit. 

Not a permanent goodbye.

Fenrys ushered you onto the ship, joined by a few others you didn’t recognize. Soldiers, disguised as courtiers. Or maybe soldiers turned courtiers. 

“Did you send word ahead?” You murmured, the captain directing you to a spot still on deck, but out of the way. The girls bounced with excitement, barely managing to keep themselves still. 

“No sense in it,” Fenrys countered, “we’re on the fastest ship available. It would probably get there after us.” 

You learned quickly what fastest meant. Magic wielders were on board, the ‘soldier-courtiers.’

Most of the first day was spent holding back Reya and Ani’s hair, convincing them to take some of the nausea tonic you’d brought with you. 

The second day, Fenrys showed Ani and Ceri some more advanced self-defense. 

The third day, the girls had convinced the sailors to tell them stories. 

The fourth, you rolled dice and made bets - Fenrys sharing his liquor with you. 

The fifth, you thought you might lose your mind of boredom - until Fenrys dragged you out to see how much self defense you knew. According to him - better than expected. He quickly added a ‘not surprising,’ considering who your father was. That particular detail, you usually forgot about - or tried to. 

The next several days passed in similar fashion, interrupted on day eight by Ceri trying desperately to convince you to shift to your animal form - then to teach her to shift to her animal form. It’s too dangerous at sea, you told her. When it didn’t work with you - she moved to Fenrys, who repeated your words, adding that she needed to be a bit older. After that, she gave up, thank the Gods. The last thing you need is to rescue an adolescent bird from the water. 

On day twenty, you spotted land. The first look at Terrasen. Mountains, still snow-capped in the summer, green forest, a small city. Illium, according to the maps you’d acquired. Then, you’d cut into the Florine river, taking you right to Orynth. Where you’d reconnect with Rowan and Aelin, and figure out what comes next. 

According to Fenrys, it’s normally a two week journey, but they dragged it out enough that the five of you would arrive closer to the expected time, after the rest of their court did. He declined to inform you of that until a few days before. 

“Will they know we’re coming?” You asked, propped up against crates, Fenrys stretched out next to you, tan face tilted up towards the sun, Reya on your other side, Ceri and Ani a few paces away, playing a card game they learned the night before.  

A genuine friendship had formed between the three of you over the last few weeks. Fenrys could’ve easily ignored you, but instead he sought out both of your company. The girls attached to him as well, eagerly taking in all of his lessons, pestering him with questions about Terrasen, all of which he answered patiently and thoroughly.

“Depends,” he turned to shoot a lazy grin at the two of you, “on how much chaos Aelin decides to cause. It’s been a while since she surprised anyone, I wouldn’t be shocked if she convinced Rowan to keep it a secret.”

Gods, you tilted your head back this time, letting it rest against the top of the crate. There’s a chance you’d arrive to Orynth, the entire court with no fucking idea who you were, who Ceri was. It had the potential to be incredibly awkward, or hilarious. You refused to stress over it, it was out of your hands for now. 

-

Their court gathered to discuss the results of their visit to the southern continent, as planned, arriving earlier that afternoon. The scouts reported the ship carrying Fenrys and company would arrive tomorrow after dusk - perfect timing for a discreet entry. But … two days early. That unsettled both her and Rowan. There wasn’t a good reason for them to arrive early, especially without any kind of notice. Although, with the crew they had - any notice sent would likely arrive after them. Instincts told her something went wrong, and she saw it echoed in Rowan’s face. They tabled it for later. There wasn’t anything they could do until they saw them. Until they had a chance to launch questions at Fenrys. 

Aelin wouldn’t call it a fight, but she’d argued with Rowan over whether or not to tell their court about their surprise.

“At least before they arrive, Fireheart,” Rowan sounded exasperated. 

“At breakfast, then,” she wound her arms around his neck, tilting her head up to grin at him. Tomorrow, they’d be here, and she was looking forward to your company. Aelin thought she might feel jealous of the connection you shared with Rowan through Ceri, but she didn’t. Instead, she wanted to be your friend - there was something soothing about your company, and she saw why Rowan grew … close to you. Even before she met the two of you, he’d been upfront about how you traced the line between friends and lovers, how you both knew it was a temporary arrangement. 

Her mind tried to tell her it was wrong that she felt this comfortable with Rowan being near an ex-lover, that her Fae instincts should be rearing with territorial jealousy. Thankfully they weren’t - otherwise it could make their current situation very difficult. 

“Should I be the one to make the announcement?” Rowan pressed a kiss to her hair. 

“I’m much better at them,” Aelin gave a smile, honeyed with false innocence. 

“You’ve given us enough surprises for a lifetime,” he muttered - but she knew he’d follow her lead. As much as he denied it, Rowan didn’t mind shaking everything up once in a while. 

“Evangeline will be excited,” she pressed up on her toes, placing a kiss at the corner of his mouth. 

“She’s much older,” he murmured. 

“I imagine she’ll take them under her wing.” Aelin pulled back to watch Rowan’s face. Nervous, her mate was nervous, one of the few times she’d seen him like that. It was oddly endearing. She was nervous too, of course, but it was … refreshing to be nervous over something not quite life and death. 

She decided now was the wrong time to remind him they’d be able to explore different parts of Terrasen - to decide where they’d want to live after Ceri’s ‘trial.’ If they stayed in Terrasen. 

Rowan sensed her shift in mood, and tilted her chin up to look at her. “It’ll be fine.” Aelin forced air in and out of her lungs, and nodded. 

“Bed,” he muttered, and tugged her off towards their room. 

-

“What is it?” Aedion sat down his glass, looking between Rowan and Aelin. Rowan kept his mouth shut, sending a pointed look at Aelin. She wanted to make the announcement, she could do it. “Please tell me you’re not planning something,” Aedion groaned. 

“It wasn’t planned,” Rowan muttered before he could stop himself. 

Aelin’s foot stomped on his insole, and he pinched her thigh under the table. 

Aelin propped her forearms on the oak wood, and everyone’s attention turned to her. Their entire court was here - minus Fenrys. Ren, Aedion, Lysandra, Evangeline, Elide, and Lorcan - who wouldn’t let Elide go anywhere alone. 

“We have some guests arriving with Fenrys.”

“Who?” Lysandra asked, lifting a glass of water to her lips. 

Fuck it, Rowan could say this for himself.. 

“While we were in Antica, I ran into an old … friend,” Lorcan’s eyes dug a hole into his skull, and he avoided his former commander’s gaze. “I have a seven year old daughter.” 

Lysandra yelped and shot back as Aedion spewed water across the table, Elide’s eyes were wide, Lorcan looked contemplative, Ren and Elide blinked several times, Evangeline - as Aelin expected, looked thrilled. 

“Ceri, Rowan’s daughter, her mother - y/n, her friend Reya, and her daughter Ani will arrive this evening,” Aelin cut in. Rowan caught Lorcan’s gaze as soon as Aelin said your name. Dark eyes flashed in recognition. Interesting. 

Aelin continued to explain the deal they’d come to. His wife even asked if they’d be willing to let the group explore living in their respective lands, conveniently mentioning some of your skill sets and how you’d been open to working here. 

“Gods, Aelin.” Aedion sighed at the end. “And Rowan,” he added, ignoring his glare. “A little warning would’ve been nice.” 

Still, he had a contemplative look on his face. You’d done the same thing his mother had - to protect his daughter from Maeve. A silent understanding passed through them, that Rowan was getting the chance Gavriel didn’t, that he’d honor it. 

“How did she go … undiscovered, in Antica this long?” Ren asked cautiously. 

“Well, Sartaq suspected there was a Whitethorn relative living in the city, but as Fenrys said,” Aelin ignored the elbow he discreetly jabbed into her side, “Rowan has an army of cousins - there were plenty of possible sire’s.” That drew a few chuckles and eye rolls. 

“She wasn’t going to tell you?” Elide pushed. 

“We don’t know.” Aelin said honestly. It was luck … or fate, that he ran into you during that trip. He had a feeling your paths would’ve crossed eventually, but the timeline was pushed up. 

“I’m surprised she agreed that quickly,” Lorcan said.

“It wasn’t safe in Antica, anymore. There were already people gathering outside their home.” 

“It won’t be completely safe anywhere.” Lysandra replied, “but it’s safer here.” 

“Considering who her father was, I imagine she can handle herself,” Lorcan drawled. Aelin’s brow furrowed, and Rowan frowned. He hadn’t shared that, it hadn’t really struck him as particularly important. 

“Are you going to explain?” Elide pinned him with a look, and Lorcan - firmly on her leash, kept talking.

“Her father was a skilled warrior. He mated to a demi-Fae from Antica, met while visiting Varese, and finished out his military service not long after,” Lorcan said, adding “he declined the blood oath for centuries, eventually Maeve gave up on him,” as an afterthought. 

“Was?” Elide asked quietly. 

Lorcan looked at Rowan, almost asking for permission to share this part of your story - or giving him the chance to. He wondered how Lorcan knew, when it took him a lot of convincing to find out. 

“Her parents died when she was young,” he made a point to meet each of their eyes. “Don’t push her about it.” His warning tone was enough that nobody, even Aelin, pushed the question further. 

Rowan remembered enough to know how you locked up at any mention of their lives and deaths, how it took a decent amount of liquor to pull any personal details out of you. One night - after you’d had a good amount of particularly strong brew, you spilled.

For some reason, Rowan had a fixation on knowing your story. He wanted to know everything he could about you. A terrifying feeling, but he didn’t see the harm in learning, gathering information was a habit built over centuries. Even if this particular story wasn’t pleasant. If it involved you, he wanted to know. Learning your fathers name surprised him, and as soon as you said it - he didn’t know the story, but knew how it ended. 

“They bought me time. There must’ve been nearly three hundred of them - mortal soldiers,” one Fae warrior was as good as a hundred mortal soldiers, but against those odds, against three hundred …

“They hit them both with Iron first, and my mother made me promise to run for the hills - told me if I came back I would be dead, and then they would win.” Rowan kept his face neutral, but inside he winced. That was a harsh way to put it, but effective. “I made it to the hills, and hid in a tree. But … I could see everything. Eventually, they were overrun. I watched the whole thing. They spiked their heads on our fence posts, but left the house intact. For seven days, they waited to see if someone would come back. I still don’t know why.” 

He did, her father had built a reputation, and wiping out his entire family line would’ve been a prize to them. He didn’t tell you that. 

“After I was certain they were gone, I buried them, took what I could carry, and left. I’m still not certain what happened to the rest of the soldiers. Maybe twenty were left by the end.” 

Rowan knew. Lorcan hunted them down. Made a brutal example out of them. By the time he opened his mouth to tell you, you were already asleep. 

“We could use more women - and females, around here,” Lysandra switched the subject with a grin. 

“What’s she like?” Evangeline asked.

“We didn’t get to spend much time with her, but we’ll find out.” Aelin answered. 

Time. Rowan would take full advantage of every second he could spend with Ceri. He’d missed too much already. 

-

The ship steadily made its way up the river, your eyes glued on the surroundings. Terrasen was … absolutely beautiful and different than anywhere you’d seen before. Snow, that would be new to you. The sun was setting as you approached the city, steady but slow. 

“We’re going to arrive after dark,” Fenrys said, arms propped on the railing next to you. “More discreet.” 

You hummed in appreciation before your mood sobered. “Everything’s about to change, isn’t it?” 

“No need to be so dramatic,” he tutted, nudging you with his shoulder. “But yes, it is.” 

With three hours left, you all disappeared below decks to try and make yourself as … not stinky as possible. As you were making the final approach, Fenrys offered you a small flask. Alcohol - but the scent was barely detectable. Could easily be explained as time spent on a ship. You shot him an incredulous look. 

“Liquid courage, they won’t scent it on you.” You stared at him for a few moments, where had he gotten that? “If you don’t want it,” he reached a hand towards it, but you snatched it back - tipping a small bit down your throat. Just enough to take the edge off. You wiped the droplets off with the back of your hand. 

“Thank you,” you handed it back, and watched as he took a drink himself. 

“For solidarity,” and something else he wasn’t telling you. You decided it’s not your place to push. 

It certainly took the edge off as you pulled up to the docks - a carriage waiting to take you right to the castle. It was a comfortable fit with all of you. The two girls pressed their faces against each window, although with the sun already set - they couldn’t see too much. 

You knew they got closer, because Fenrys’s shoulders rolled back, his body tilting forward to look out the window. “A few more minutes,” he said. It felt like an hour, but it likely was less than a twenty minute ride. As you approached, each clop of the horse's feet, each turn of the wheel, each small murmur from a driver, all seemed to thunder in your ears. 

“Breathe,” Reya whispered next to you, and you forced air in and out of your lungs. You could do this, it would be fine. Ceri’s excited. For her, you reminded yourself. So she can have a father, so Rowan can be a father. For safety. Everything would work out, and you for her, it didn’t feel like a sacrifice. Since you felt her little life growing, you knew there wasn’t anything you wouldn’t do for her. This is no exception, a bit of discomfort you could survive. You’d adjusted before, and you would again now. 

Reya grabbed your hand in her own, for her comfort as much as yours, and the two girls squealed as the gates groaned, the carriage passing through. “A better world for us,” she whispered - so low you barely heard it, but squeezed her hand in reply. A safer place for Fae, a place for Reya to find some peace, new things for your daughters to experience.

A hand thumped on the carriage, and Fenrys swung the door open. You breathed in through your nose, out through your mouth. You could do this. 

[lemonhemlock]

look. not to be too mean on main. the rightful heir thing. if you don't care about the intricacies of property law or legal writs and just want to focus on characterization and other aspects of storytelling, fine.

but it truly does look very goofy when you start "debating" this while lacking historical context and methodological tools. sometimes a constitutional crisis (that was already resolved in the 12th century and whose results you can always look up) can't just be settled by appealing to one's anachronistic opinion and accusing those who disagree of misogyny.

there's a difference between suggesting how things should be (i.e. prescriptive, i.e. women should never inherit the throne) and analysing how things were for a myriad of socio-political reasons.

also, trust me, the Dance being fictional is not the gotcha people think it is. it's plenty obvious. i'm sorry to say but the premise is so flimsy it would never have happened like that irl.

final idea: likewise, perhaps being condescending about people who do take the time to criticise the premise is veering a little bit towards anti-intellectualism. 'idc about succession laws ergo i'm more enlightened bc i've unlocked an edgelord-y way to enjoy fiction'. a medievalesque fantasy setting is going to attract commentators who are interested in medieval history or at least aspects of it. they may find copy-paste scenarios from real history and think it interesting to compare and contrast. it's not immediately equivalent to treating aegon and rhaenyra like your ballot choices next election, and, equally, they're not discussions without merit.

comparative analysis is a transferable skill! if someone doesn't want to partake, fine, but i think this attitude of turning one's nose at it is a tad coarse. there are many fans who take the time to write informative posts and contextualise this fictionalised universe and it's a shame to automatically write-off what is ultimately a rich tradition in internet asoiaf spaces

[footballfanficwriter]

The Break up

Summary: I love you but, you hurt me and I can't take it anymore

A/n: requests are open

"Where were you?" I ask getting up from the sofa that I've been sitting on for the past 3 hours

"Out" he says

"Are you drunk?"

"No" he says trying to stand up straight indicating that he is in fact drunk

"Is that a hikey on your neck"

"No...w-w-what are you even doing up at this time" he asks

"Waiting for you to come home so we can go on our date that you promised me we'd go on" I say

"Shit that was today, i forgot"

"Ofcourse you did, like you always do"

"You look very beautiful in that dress by the way"

"Stop, manipulating me"

" I'm not, I'm just complimenting you"

"Oh cut the bullshit Jude, you don't care about me, if you did you'd remember our date and that hickey wouldn't be on your stupid neck"

"Babe I love you, you are my world, I can't live without you"

"I love you too Jude, but how many times have we been down this road?, you Fuck up, you promise not to do it again, I forgive you and you do it all over again"

"Ok fine I promise this is the last, the very last time"

"That's what you said last time"

"Babe please"

"No, if I continue like this, you are literally going to drive me to my death"

"Y/n, please don't do this, I love you"

"I love you too Jude, but you hurt me and I can't take it anymore" I say

I walk to my room and start packing all my clothes in suitcases

"Y/n, you're being dramatic, your blowing things out of proportion"

"I'm blowing things out of proportion?, you know how many times I've cried because of you, how you've made me feel like I can't live without your love, making me feel emotionally dependent on you?, I guess that's my fault cause of how fast I fell for you, how I based my whole life on you"

"Y/n, please darling, I'm begging you, please don't to this".

"It's ok Jude, I understand you've lost feelings for me"

"No I haven't"

"If you haven't like you claim, then you wouldn't have cheated"

He's silent like he's trying to think, that's when he grabs his phone out of her pocket and makes a call, the line connects after a few rings and hear my mother's voice

"Hello?, Mom Y/n is at it again, I can't get her to stop, she's threatening to leave in fact she's packing her clothes right now"

"Give her the phone, darling" she says

He hands me the phone

"Hello"

"What are you doing?" She ask

"Leaving" I say

"But why hunny?"

"Jude has been cheating for more than a year now, and quiet frankly I've reached my breathing point"

"Were you giving him some?"

"Mom, that's private"

"Well judging by your answer, I'm gonna assume it's a no, no wonder why he's cheating on you"

"You're justifying his actions?"

"Just stay darling, a women never leaves her mess, fix your relationship, try harder if you must, do everything in your power to make him happy"

"I can't believe you, you're taking his side?"

"He's very reasonable"

"I can't do this with you mom,I'm coming home"

"No, you're not, if you step foot outside that house, and drive here I will kick you off my property" she says

"You're disowning me"

"If that's what I have to do then yes"

I hang up the phone and toss it onto the bed and continue packing.

I'm leaving, even if it means I'll be living in my car then so be it

"What are you doing"

"Leaving"

"But your mom just sai-

"Get away from me Jude"

"Where are you going to go if you leave the house then"

"That's none of your concern"

I finish packing my things and make my way downstairs, but Jude stops as I'm about to leave the front door

"Get out of my way"

"I love you"

"Get out of my way Jude"

"Darling I love you"

"Don't lie to me, I said get out of my way" i give him a look and he steps aside

And I make it out for the door, but not before and turning back

"So this is really the end?"

"Yeah, it is" I say

"I'm sorry for how I treated you"

"I'm sorry, I wasn't enough for you"

"I love you"

"I love you too" I say and close the door and head to my car

I sit there for a while and and the tears start running down my face eventually I'm a sobbing mess

After slightly composing myself I start the car and leave.

[novasdarling]

Dark content!!

"Whether it’s because you got too friendly with another Trouper member, or because you’re misbehaving"

OK, but what if Darling was ignoring the phantom members completely? Like even if the phantom women try to make Chrollo's girlfriend open up more, Darling refuses openness

It's like, "These are my kidnappers' friends? then they're my enemies."

–Thank you🌹

I played around with this idea, more with the idea that the reader just wants to be alone. Enjoy the time to relax when they can.

The Friend Of My Enemy

TW: Kidnapping Mentioned, Sort of Stockholm Syndrome, Dubcon Touching, Forced Relationship, Gender Neutral Reader besides the idea of having girlfriends.

There was noise coming from outside the room, you could hear it, most likely coming from down the hall. It was voices, they were chatting and coming closer. After a few moments you could tell it was the voices of women, it was Pakunoda and Shizuku. You weren't sure what they were saying and you simply didn’t care. Whatever left their mouths meant nothing for you, unless it was a message from Chrollo. Even then, you simply would hear what they had to say and then turn away. As long as you followed Chrollo’s rules, you would be fine. He usually asked one of the women in the troupe to relay a message while he was busy. All you had to do was listen to them and then you could go back to staring out the window or at the ceiling. You would be left alone again. 

“Are you listening?” It was Pakunoda, you must have missed what she said when they had entered. You apologized and asked what she had said. “Chrollo wants to know what you want to eat?” 

That was odd, he never really asked you what you wanted when it came to anything. At most he would get you your favourite without you asking for it. Assuming you’d enjoy it because it’s your favourite or something you like at the moment. You’d be an idiot to pass up on this as puzzling as it was. Letting the girls know what you wanted, giving options he could get you. Worried that he'd take it badly if you didn’t give him some control over this decision. Expecting them to leave after you informed them, you turned back to stare out the window. It was dark outside, all there were, were trees and a fence enclosing the property you were being kept at.  

“We’re not near any sort of town or anything.” It was Shizuku this time, noticing Pakunoda was gone when you glanced over. She was pointing out the surroundings. “Nowhere to go.” 

There it was, she thought you were analyzing a way to escape. Taking in where you were in order to figure out a way to getaway. She couldn’t have been more wrong. You gave up any attempt of escaping months ago, after the second time you got out, he brought you back just to break your legs as punishment. Forcing you to rely on him for everything. You were helpless, completely at his mercy. More so than before. Something you never wished to experience again. 

“I know. My place is with him.” 

Shizuku sat beside you and looked out with you. You wanted her to leave. She had no right to join you in your isolation. This was the only time you ever had alone when Chrollo was busy with work so he let you be for a few hours. Although you could swear he was there with you most of the time, his normal piercing gaze didn’t feel as hot when you were alone. Giving you materials for entertainment. You were used to this, to being alone when you could. Something you had come to enjoy and now she was ruining it. Why now? Occasionally some of the troupe members attempted to communicate with you, but they never bothered to try anything besides a few words here and there. Certainly not sitting down with you.  

“He’ll grab you the first thing you asked for. Says he’ll save the rest for tomorrow.” Pakunoda was back. 

So, you were staying here for at least another full day. Whatever they were doing was taking longer than normal. Perhaps Chrollo would take you out after everything as a treat, as a thank you for being so well behaved. It was a kind gesture he would do occasionally.  

“What are you two looking at?” 

“She keeps staring out the window. Told her there's nowhere to go.” If only they could just shut up. 

“It’s true, no town close enough you could get to before he found you.” 

“No shit. I know.” It was tiring to be told you were stuck again. Especially after you’ve accepted your fate. 

You could feel both of them looking at you. Surprised by your words, you had never been rude to them. Just calmly brushing them off before. Now though, it didn’t matter, even if you did want to leave. You couldn’t, they were right. You wouldn’t be able to get far enough before he found you and dragged you back. It was silent again, you kept your eyes on the window. Looking out at the darkness. Even when you felt both of them move closer to you, you didn’t look at them or talk. Pakunoda had joined you guys, taking a seat near you too. You wished they would leave. To finally leave you alone. They were all murderers and monsters like Chrollo, but at least he seemed to love you. Had somewhat of an interest in taking care of you. They were only loyal to him, tolerating you for him. There was no friendship with them, with any of them. Chrollo had hinted at you to be friendly with them, letting them entertain you. However, it was useless. 

“He loves you. He only wants to make sure you're safe. There’s a lot of danger out there.” 

There it was, you were waiting to see why they seemed so keen on staying with you. It seemed they had a motive. Trying to get you to favour Chrollo more perhaps. Sweet talk him to you as if they were pitching him. It was annoying, they saw how you accepted him. That you barely fought him anymore. Why the sudden switch? You remembered how Chrollo had previously hinted that you take them as your friends, to have more people than just hint to talk to. You had said no before, saying you liked being alone, only earning a laugh from him. As if your words were foolish and wrong. Now you thought you knew why he had laughed, that they would keep trying. In order to keep an eye on you. Be Chrollo’s eyes and ears in case you planned to leave or disobey him. 

“You love him, right?” Shizuku’s words grabbed your attention even more. Making you look at her. 

It took a moment before you put the pieces together. These weren't their own words, no, they were from Chrollo. He was using them to ask you things he knew he couldn’t. Everything you said to them would just be relayed back to him. You could never open up to them, let them know how you felt. Anything you said he would hear. They were loyal to him, not to you.  

As much as you wished to lash out at them, let them know you weren’t friends. If he had something to ask, he could ask himself, but any outburst would be seen as you rejecting him. Instead, you swallowed your words and answered them in a way you knew he would like. Stating that of course, you did, especially after all this time, you realised his kindness and sweetness now. Shizuku smiled, seeming to believe your words, while Pakunoda sreadinto you a bit more. You went back to looking out the window and they seemed to take it as their cue to leave. Letting you be alone again. 

Chrollo hadn't come to you until late that night, you were already curling up on the bed. Believing he wouldn’t come till much later, being proved wrong when he walked in. You both stared at each other for a bit. You wanted to yell at him for sending his members to talk to you, but that was a bad move. Instead, you welcomed him, asking him how his day was as he undressed, pulling the blankets back to welcome him to bed.  

“You seem exhausted my dear.” You nodded, laying your head on his chest when he laid down. “Is that why you were so rude to the girls?” 

So, they had told him what you said and how you acted. That you were annoyed with their presence and words. You were right to assume nothing was safe with them. Apologizing you leaned more into him, hoping your affection would make up for your poor behaviour. After all, it wasn’t him you were cold to, so he shouldn’t be angry, but his grip on you was tight, more than normal. He was upset, you guessed wrong. 

“They only wished to keep you company. You need to show them a better attitude next time. Remember they are my members.” Exactly, his members. 

“I just want to be left alone.” 

Chrollo pulled you closer to him, now having you entirely on him instead of simply having your head resting on his cheat. A hand is placed on your hip to hold you still, while the other is under your chin with his thumb holding you still. Forcing you to look at him. 

“My dear, you’re never truly alone. I’m always there, in one form or another. I’ll always know what you're up to.” He pulled your chin closer to him so he could whisper in your ear. His breath is hot on your skin. “I know you, body and soul my sweet. You’ll never be truly alone again. They don’t tell me things I don’t already know.” Releasing your chin after so you could lean back. “So, I suggest you take the few friends I’ll allow you to have since your only reason not to have them is wanting to be alone and we established that isn't the case.” 

Chrollo grinned at you. Waiting for you to say something, yell at him, disagree with what he’s asking for, but what could you say? You always knew this was the case, that you would never be alone again, but there was always a sliver of hope you could be alone. Away from him, yet his words pointed out the truth, any hope left as you looked at him. Nodding you went back to laying down, staying on him. His hand on your hip refused to let you leave. You didn’t want to look at him, not now so you buried your face in his neck. Tuning him out as he went on about how good it will be to have a diverse group of company. All it was, were people to help him keep an even better eye on you, this wasn’t for you. 

[bean-bean2000]

The Hacker - Part 3

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: angst, yelling, self-deprecating thoughts (lbody dismorphia, self-hatred), recall of past traumatic events including physical and mental abuse & murder, guns, depression (suicidal thoughts).

Please note that I am not responsible for what you consume online. proceed at your own caution.

Feedback is welcome and very appreciated!

Part 2 here

Series masterlist

———————————————————————————

You wake up to loud banging on your door and yelling.

“YOU BRAT!! GET OUT HERE RIGHT NOW!” Steve yells.

You giggle at his anger. You get up and open the door swiftly with a smirk.

“What’s wrong Cap? Couldn’t sleep?”

“What is wrong with you?! Why can’t you just be a quiet nerd that does what she’s told to do? Why can’t you follow simple orders? Why must you always create problems?!”

“Geez Cap, I always took you for a morning person. Who’s got your panties in a twist?”

“Cut that out right now! I know it was you! This never happened until you showed up. What did you want to achieve from this?”

“I’m not property. I am not a soldier. As Tony said, I’m a cyberpunk. A simple ‘Thank you for saving my life’ would have been nice. You’re too high strung and refuse to admit that you were wrong and I was very right for interfering. I will not be your puppet. I am my own person, whether you like it or not! I may be a part of this team, against my own will, but that doesn’t mean you can bark orders at me like a dog!”

“GAH! you’re unbelievable!” Steve says as he stomps away.

You snort and roll your eyes. You head to the kitchen and living room to grab some breakfast; not like you were going to fall back asleep now anyway.

As you walk in you see a certain blue-eyed brooding super soldier sitting at the kitchen island, sipping on coffee.

Your heart skips a beat but you ignore it and walk nonchalantly to the coffee machine.

“Good morning.” you say politely.

Bucky doesn’t reply but you can feel his eyes boring into your back. You turn around slowly and sip on your coffee, staring back at him. You’re not that easily intimidated.

Bucky snorts as a smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth. “You’re something else you know that? Nobody has ever angered Steve like you have.”

“Nobody has treated me as poorly as he has”

Bucky sighs “Give him a chance. He doesn’t understand how to use the TV remote half the time. He’s scared. he doesn’t know how to guide you and lead you during missions. He’s lost when it comes to modern age technology and it’s frustrating him.”

You stare at him as you consider what Bucky has told you.

“Regardless, his behaviour towards me is ridiculous. Considering he’s from the 40’s I expected a bit more chivalry and respect from him. I will make it clear as much as I can and as many times as needed that I am not his dog that he can bark orders at. End of conversation.”

“Wow this generation has really raised some ballsy women.” He says while shaking his head with a smile.

“Is that a problem old man? Want me to be little miss submissive? Running to you every night with a fresh meal on the table and do everything at your bidding?” you reply in a mocking voice.

Bucky gets up from the bar stool and walks towards you, he gently lowers his elbows on the kitchen island and stares at you directly in your eyes.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. Honestly, I respect you the most out of everyone. You came here, alone and scared, and you still stand your ground, no matter the consequences. You’re confident and self-assured. They underestimated you.”

Your tongue is caught in your throat. His blue eyes are stormy. You swear you can see admiration and pride in his eyes but you quickly look away before you let your body take over and do what you really want to do to him. This is strictly professional. No emotions, you promised yourself.

You clear your throat and back up a bit “I um - i’m going to go to my office and do some stuff…alright bye.” You stammer as you quickly run off before he can stop you.

Unbeknownst to you, Bucky watches you runaway with a smile on his face and his heart beating so fast. He can’t remember the last time he’s felt like this for someone. He just met her and feels like he’s known her forever.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You run to your office and sit on your chair abruptly. You dim the light, close the shades and turn on the purple LED lights. You let out a long breath you didn’t realize you were holding in. You embrace the calming atmosphere of your office as you begin to work.

You check your emails and notice a slew of small jobs Tony has delegated to you. Hacking into some servers to retrieve some sensitive information; nothing you haven’t done before. You put your headphones on and blast some music to drown out any background noise and help you focus on finishing the task at hand.

As you’re working through your to do list, you didn’t realize how fast time flew by. The once early morning sun has now set into the late evening. You’re continuously tapping away on your keyboard, your eyes glued to the screens in front you. You’re so hyper focused you don’t realize someone is watching you from the doorframe of your office.

Suddenly you feel a hand squeeze your shoulder. You shriek so hard that your headphones fly off your head and you leap so high out of your chair that it flips over, making you fall backwards to the ground. As you’re trying to get back up, you look to the culprit and see Steve scrambling to help you up. He grabs you by your arms and pulls you up in one swift motion, all while apologizing profusely.

“Oh god I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you, are you ok? I was calling your name but you couldn’t hear me so I tried to get your attention.” Steve rambles while analyzing you, looking for injuries.

You sigh a breath of relief and rub your head, already feeling a bump forming from the fall.

“It’s fine Steve. What do you want?” you answer coldly.

“Look, I wanted to apologize. I’m really sorry for how i’ve been acting. I don’t understand a fraction of what you do or how you do it and I have no idea how to lead you through the missions. I was frustrated and took it out on you. It’s not right and I’m sorry.” Steve says, blue eyes boring into yours, swirling with pleading sadness, begging to be forgiven.

“I get it Steve. I do, and I accept your apology. However, you understand that I don’t need guidance right? The internet, hacking, technology in general is my life. All I need from you is to lead, to tell me what to do and when and I’ll do it but if there is something else that I can do to help the team further or save you, I will do it. Whether you like it or not, I know the consequences of my actions and I know what I’m doing. I trust you. The real question is, do you trust me?”

“I— I do. I will. from now, I will trust you and your instincts. I promise. You’re part of the team now and I will treat you as an equal like I treat everyone else.”

“Good. Thank you for being honest with me and clearing this up. Let’s start over.”

“Deal. Thank you Y/N.”

“Just don’t piss me off again or I’ll make it way worse for you than a few simple alarms and blaring red lights in your room as payback.” you smirk at him and wink.

He rolls his eyes and smile “Understood, scouts honour.” He salutes you jokingly and walks out with a quick goodbye.

You decide to call it a night and close up your office for the day. You walk to the kitchen and realize you haven’t eaten all day.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As you reach the kitchen and start making yourself a quick sandwich you hear footsteps approaching you.

“Hey there Cyberpunk, what are you up too? You disappeared all day today.” Bucky says as he sits next to you on a kitchen bar stool.

“I was working on some things Tony needed. I didn’t realize how time flew by. I haven’t eaten yet so i’m just making a quick snack.”

“You didn’t take a single break? How did you not eat, drink, go to the bathroom?…” Bucky looks at you with a concerned look.

“Um, no, not really. I tend to get really hyper focused on my tasks, especially when my brain is in overdrive. It’s kind of like a coping mechanism. I escape into my own cyber world and I don’t leave until my body basically wakes me up.” You say nonchalantly.

“Well, not anymore. Not on my watch.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” you ask while giggling.

“I have decided to make it my job to make sure that you’re taking enough breaks, eating, drinking water, going outside for some fresh air…”

“You don’t have to do that. I like my little cyber-cave. It’s my space, it’s fine.”

“Doll, you are stubborn.” he chuckles to you as he playfully pushes his shoulder against yours.

You reply with a scoff as you finish making your snack.

"You're too cute to treat yourself like this. Let me take care of you for a bit, I want to help."

You stare at him in disbelief.

Is he... flirting with me? There's no chance James Buchanan Barnes is flirting with me. He's just being nice to me. With women like Natasha around him, there is no way he would even look my way. I'm a freaking nerd, a computer geek that stays indoors all day and hides from the world through the internet. The other women in the compound are gorgeous with the perfect bodies to match. I'm not exactly the most fit, I can't even jog for more than 10 seconds without my lungs hurting. I dress is loose comfortable clothes, my hair is always in either a messy bun or air dried to let its natural pattern go free. I put minimal makeup at most because I'm alone indoors all day. Remember, no emotions. It's all in your head. Focus Y/N. He is just being polite and welcoming as you're a new team member.

Your thoughts are running a mile a minute as Bucky is looking into your eyes, waiting for an answer. You must have been staring at him for too long because Bucky asked you if something was wrong.

"No I um - i'm good. Just exhausted. Long day. Thanks for keeping me company for a bit. I have to go now, bye." you say awkwardly as you grab ur plate of food and scurry to your room.

"Hey, wait where are you going?" Bucky questions as he sees you run off.

You ignore him and quicken your pace. Your heart is racing. You reach your room and close the door behind you as you let out a huge sigh of relief.

Why am I so awkward? Why can't I just have a normal conversation with him? He's too damn gorgeous thats why. How can I not be attracted to him? He's built like a greek god with these captivating blue eyes and that dark hair that you just want to run your fingers through - stop it. No no no stop that right now. If you develop a crush on him, you will only get hurt. You're being delusional. He doesn't like you. Look at yourself.

You stare at yourself in the mirror.

What could he possibly be attracted to? The dark circles under my eyes? My messy hair? My loose fitting clothes that give me no shape whatsoever? It's not like my body is perfect either. I have stretch marks, I'm not fit, I don't have abs by any means, my arms are not muscular or toned, my thighs are large.... I do have a nice ass and some great boobs, I will admit.

Bucky is a man that goes for super model type women. Not computer nerds that eat take out almost religiously and never leave their computer chair except to go to the bathroom. I think the most steps i've done in an entire day is 500. Who am i kidding? Why am I doing this to myself? Just stop. Focus on work, nothing else. This will only lead to more and more heartbreak that I just can't take anymore.

There is so much they don't know about me. They can't know. I've worked so hard to erase it from the world all together, to make myself disappear into thin air, to hardly exist. I know Tony is probably trying to deep dive into my past and find some trace of who I am and where I'm from but I know I've gotten rid of it all years ago and I plan on keeping it that way.

Start of flashback

You're hiding under your desk in your room, shaking as you hear your parents screaming at each other in the kitchen. You had accidentally dropped a plate and it crashed to the floor, pieces flying everywhere which had caused your father to erupt in a rage. He stalked towards you as a slew of insults that have been repeated to you over the years flew from his mouth: worthless, stupid, waste of life, ugly. You name it, he said it.

Taking out his anger on you, leaving you no chance to breathe until your mother pried his hands off of you while screaming for him to stop. As soon as he let go of you, you had run to your room where you're now hiding. You can feel the blood leaking from your nose and lip, one eye almost shut so tight you can hardly see out of it. You grabbed your phone and dialed 911 - terrified as to what your father might do, especially if he found out you had called the cops on him. The first responder tells you to stay where you are and keep the phone open. As you're about to reply, your door swings open and your father storms in. He rips you out from your desk and drags you to the kitchen again. You're too scared to even scream or cry.

He throws you to the floor, on the pieces of glass that remained on the floor from the broken plate you had dropped. The shards cut your hands and knees and crush into your skin. All you can do is lay there and pray that the first responder heard the scene unfold and sent police officers to your address. You're waiting to be saved, you feel helpless as always, you just want to get out.

You watch as your father punches your mother unconscious. You watch in fear as he approaches you and laughs. He tells you that this is all your fault. You watch him pull out his gun and point it as your mother who is laying on the floor lifeless. You scream as you lunge towards him to stop him but it was too late. The shot resonated throughout the tiny apartment with a sharp thud as you jumped him.

You wrestled him with all your might, grabbing a shard of glass from the floor and stabbing it into his thigh. He screamed in agony and cursed at you, punching you hard and sending you flying across the floor. You scramble to get up as you watch him point the gun to you this time. You make a split second decision and duck as you tackle his waist and force him to the ground. Wrestling again, you manage to grab the gun that is pointed at you and turn it the other way, facing your fathers chest directly. You look him in the eye as you tell him that his reign of terror has ended and you pull the trigger. You keep pulling the trigger until you hear the gun click.

You get up and look at yourself, covered in blood. Your father’s lifeless body laying there in a pool of his own blood. You hear the sirens and realize what you've done. You have to get out, now.

You grab everything you can and you run. You wash your hands, arms and chest in a pond in the forest you ran into and changed your clothes. Grabbing a pair of scissors in your bag you cut your hair to change your appearance. You take one look back at your apartment, now covered with flashing red and blue lights. You turn around and head into the forest, never looking back again.

You had found yourself in a homeless shelters for 4 years. Continuously dying your hair different colours and moving around from shelter to shelter. You had to because you were too recognizable, with a deep scar slashing across your lip and multiple scars littering the plans of your hands- a final gift from your father. When you couldn’t find a new shelter to stay at, the alleys outside were your best bet. Stealing food from trash cans and people’s lunches when they weren’t paying attention is how you survived. Keeping your appearance hidden and constantly different is how you evaded the cops. You were a missing person and a person of interest in the case of your parents. You had to get out of here to make it out alive. You decide to hop on a train and never look back.

When you woke up to the train halting to a stop. You look outside and realize you’re now in New York. You jump off the train and make your way to the city.

One day, at another random shelter, you met someone who ended up teaching you your way around computers. One thing led to another and you were a cyber whiz with an online community, making money off of rich assholes by hacking into their bank accounts and stealing some money they would never even notice was missing. You managed to get yourself a small shitty apartment, but you welcomed it as anything is better than the streets and shelters.

Once you were settled in a makeshift homb- the same home which the Avengers gracefully kidnapped you from - you decided you had to find a way to kill the old you and let the new you stay hidden.

You figured out a way to erase yourself from the world. You hacked into the government system and erased all documents pertaining to you; your birth certificate, medical records, dental records, school enrollments; everything. You manufactured one item and left it in the system for good measure; a death certificate. Nobody would search for a dead girl.

End of Flashback

You don't notice that you've sunken to the floor, shaking as you bring your knees up to your chest. Sobbing quietly as the horrific memory haunts your mind. You beg to whoever and whatever is listening to you for forgiveness. You beg to have your life taken from you. Your fathers dying words replaying in your mind forever: Worthless, stupid, waste of life.

Maybe he's right.

You hold yourself tighter as you continue crying, balled up on the floor until you fell asleep from exhaustion.

———————————————————————————-

Part 4

Please let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list!

Tag List:

@unaxv

@winterslove1917

[shotmrmiller]

Can’t stop thinking of sexist Simon who becomes a girl dad. He gets a one night stand pregnant (lord knows no one’s marrying his sexist ass right about now) and for the entire pregnancy she doesn’t tell him, just drops the baby on his doorstep the second she’s out of the hospital and dips. So Simon’s stuck with this kid who he did want and on top of that is a girl. Do you think he’s still just as sexist? Leading his kid on the path to blow loads of money on therapy in the future? Or do you think he becomes one of those girl dads who adapts? Sure he was a sexist piece of shit before but his own flesh and blood is an extension of him and goddamn anyone who insults that. Maybe it’s for all the wrong reasons, sees his kid more as property. But that doesn’t mean she’s treated like shit because she’s his property and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t take care of his shit. And can you imagine this kid wants to join the military? In a combat role nonetheless? Does he shoot it down? Or does he know his child is just as stubborn as him? Does he train them up to become the best female combatant there is? Ugh the possibilities. Somewhat comparing him to my own dad, my dad came from a super rural Texas town and went straight to the marines after. While he wasn’t sexist, he was certainly homophobic and after meeting my mom he did in fact have two bi daughters he had to adapt to (which he did). Just makes me wanna put these little mw guys in these situations, you feel me? 😩

simon isn't a misogynist, he just thinks that there are better suited careers for women that aren't putting their life in danger all day every day, going against men who will always be bigger than them. because sure, sniping is more than fitting but there's never a guarantee that shit will go tits up and then you're in danger. and you can best believe that the mission will almost always take precedence over someone who SHOULD be able to fight off grown men.

anyway, no. he'd do his sloppy best to raise the kid. (truthfully he gives kratos with loki fatherhood vibes)

calls her kid too. teaches her how to live off the land, how to tell which direction she's facing by looking at the sky.

honestly, teaches her how to handle guns at a young age too. He's a notorious name, and if someone finds out about her, she's probably dead.

and about the combat role, he'd probably go over shit, graphically so.

the stuff he's done, he's survived. none of it is heroic.

it's ugly, it's war. and he'd definitely tell her that she's gonna get broken by literally anyone who wants to get rid of her. if HE was SA'd and he's a big, ugly brute of a man, imagine her if she falls into the claws of the enemies.

scare tactics cuz he really doesn't want any of that to happen, there's a bright sparkle in her eyes that he lost long ago, if he ever even had it in the first place due to his shit childhood.

[thatonewatching]

What irks them?

Slenderverse

FEAT: Jeff t.K, BEN Drowned, EJ, Masky, Hoodie, Helen Otis/Bloody Painter, LJ, HABIT, Slenderman.

Jeff t.K- He hates when people give him weird looks. Like, yeah, he knows he's weird looking and all, but won't you give him a break? It doesn't hurt his feelings or anything, but it just pisses him off. It only pisses him off, however, if it's someone in the manor or someone who serves under Slender. If someone, someone like him, gives him a weird look, whether it be of disgust or apprehension, he does not appreciate the judged feeling he gets. He feels that the only person allowed to judge him is himself. Also, he hates people who talk over him. He feels like his words are just as important, if not more, than anyone else's.

BEN Drowned- He hates when people touch his stuff without asking and when they treat him like a child. If he allows you into his room, he expects you to respect his boundaries, whether you're close or not. He trusted you, so he expects you to not to break that trust. His items are his property, so why can't you respect it? He feels like it isn't that hard. (I'm not projecting, I promise) And if he were to tell you that he's upset with how you're acting and what you're doing, and you invalidate his feelings, he doesn't like you, anymore. He'll tell you to get out, once you do, he'll pace around and be a little storm cloud for a bit till he's calmed down. He won't be the first to reach out to you to make things right, however. He'll wait for the wrong doer to apologize. He knows when he's in the wrong, and can act mature about apologizing, though it may hurt his pride.

Eyeless Jack- Hates when people don't listen even after countless reminders and warnings, also hates being called 'Eyeless' Jack. Despises that he's known for being a scary demon man that patches people up, despite being one of Slender's favorites, due to his convenient skill. His hearing is exceptional, and he can pick up on more things than an average human can. He will have to confront you if he hears you talking about him, bad mouthing or not. Doesn't allow certain people to return time after time to his infirmary, especially Jeff, Toby, and Jane. They often return multiple times a day, and he doesn't tolerate people abusing his kindness and dedication to his work.

Masky- Loud people or people who don't respect his boundaries. If someone is continuously being loud and obnoxious, he will lose his temper and begin to yell. A bad habit of his is throwing things or punching them. If he has reminded you at least once to be quiet or calm down and you haven't listened, he'll go off. Or, if you don't listen when he tells you to back up or stop touching him and you don't, he'll lose his temper, too. Doesn't like when people don't listen to him, really. That's mainly what it boils down to at the end of the day. God complex 🤷‍♂️ what can ya do about it? Also, weird thing, but he hates people who use the word 'like' in a sentence too much. (Ex. "And he, like, told me about what she said, and I was like🧍‍♂️! Can you believe that?) Lastly, he hates people that twirl their hair or play with it constantly. Finds it a sign of stupidity and incompetence. Thinks that women who do it are bimbos with no brains and men that do it are gay or stupid. (I'm sorry)

Hoodie- Doesn't like being treated like a child or with condescension. He is a grown man and expects you to treat him like one. Or if you demean him and try to gaslight him into believing he's in the wrong. Has the patience of a saint and will make sure he's in the right before confronting you. Does not tolerate him or his friends being insulted or demeaned. Will confront you if you try to manipulate or gaslight anyone, whether he's close with them or not.

Bloody Painter- If you bother him while he's painting or cooking, he'll remind/warn you to leave him be. If that doesn't work, he'll shove you away, but not hard enough to leave a mark or make you fall, just a slight warning. If you bother him again, he'll grab you and force you out of the room by your wrist, shoulder, or upper arm. Doesn't deal with constant interruptions or irritation. Doesn't often yell but will deprive you of entertainment or distractions. Occasionally, he will deprive you of food for hours to up to a day and a half.

Laughing Jack- Being disrespected or walked on. Though he might be malicious and hundreds of years old, he doesn't like being treated like he's below anyone, especially someone who he finds below him, like a human being. He will quickly put you in your place, seeing as you can do nothing about it, considering his size and strength. He views himself as something of a God or something to be worshipped. Looks down on those he views below him.

HABIT- People who disobey him. He also looks down on everyone, but he will actively make sure you are obeying his orders. Do not disobey him. You will die. He doesn't tolerate disrespect or questioning. He expects nothing but loyalty and devotion to him and his goals, and if you aren't willing to provide that, then he'll find someone who is. You are disposable and easy to replace in his eyes, and when you don't act as such, he will put you in your place. Don't cross him.

Slenderman- He, much like Habit and LJ, sees himself above you, because he is. He is an eldritch, all-powerful being who will not hesitate to kill you the second you disrespect him, seeing as he can find anyone to take your place. You are something to toy with and use for entertainment and selfish purposes. You are going to know your place, whether he has to teach you, or someone else. Just obey. Simple as that.

[bunnyyamor]

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ haunted house | HAPPY HALLOWEEN COLLAB

you go ghost hunting at an abandoned house. you want to catch it on footage a real ghost for your youtube channel. what you didn't know was that there was a ghost, lurking, ready to make any woman succumb to needy lust

ghost! mahito x f!reader ୨୧ ꒰ nsfw...mdni ꒱ spectrophilia, cream pie, money shot, non-con, small blood kink, tiny knife play, pet-names (such as human, little one, baby, good girl), spanking

pls comment + like + reblog; i would rlly appreciate it (๑˘︶˘๑)

“are you rolling?” you fixed your hair, rearranging your microphone on your sweater to be propped up to receive the best audio. 

“yeah, we’re good,” your assistant put her thumbs up.

“hello crew! today it is the spooky halloween night. everyone is out trick or treating or enjoying scary parties, maybe even staying home, feet propped up with cozy black cat socks on and some pumpkin spiced coffee as they watch hocus pocus. either way, tonights the night. you lot voted! it’s the scary, haunted house! tonight we are going, ghost hunting! that's right, you’ll see an actual real life ghost tonight!” you moved to the left in order to get the house in the shot. it was abandoned, made entierely out of wood. it seemed ancient with all the new houses being built over a street away. it was dark, the wood seeming black even in the night air. it was run down, wet mold growing on the outside. it was two stories, with a porch in the front. in maybe another world this would of been the perfect picket-white fence house, now it was used as an attraction. it was used to showcase the worlds daredevils to see who would have enough bravery to enter its four walls. “me and my assistant are going to get footage of the whole thing! it doesn’t matter what happens.” you howled, really trying to dive into the scary factor of the whole idea of halloween. “but, let’s not keep waiting. let’s go!”

you ushered the camera to come closer to you. “wait, y/n. you think this is a good idea?” your assistant looked around the property. you could tell she was afraid.

“we’re not really gonna meet ghosts. i just want the viewers to think so. i don’t believe in ghosts anyways. we’re going to be fine! it’ll be quick, easy footage. some fake loud bangs and reactions and people will believe anything.”

you both walked up the porch and knocked. “you never know, there could be a drunk inside.” as you waited at the door, no one opened. so you two showed yourself in. “well folks, it smells terrible in here. and it’s extremely cold.”

“y/n, look.” your assistant pointed the camera at the wall. coverieng the wall was old paintings.

“it’s insane they didn’t get ruin by nature.” you gasped as you ran your fingers over the faded, dusty pieces of art. one was a carriage riding in the snow with horses attached to it, the other looked like a canoe or some type of boat in the lake with women inside enjoying a nice day out. there was a painting of this same house, when it was in pristine condition. “get a load of this shot here. look how beautiful this house used to be, what a shame.” your eyes peered over to the biggest painting out of the others. it was a man, dressed in an old fashioned suit, very vintage. he had blue hair, long that was in two loose ponytails. his face looked sad, unhappy. maybe lost. “poor guy. maybe he looks like this cause he got all those scars all over his face.”

“could this perhaps be the old owner of the house?” your assistant pointed out.

you tapped your lip in thought, “you know, you could be right. folks, i read about the old owner of this house. his name was mahito. people said about him that he was a man with a few loose screws in his head. he had his own beliefs about life and society and that he was a man that would let his opinions be heard. i don’t think the town really liked him nor if he was a good guy. either way, thank you for letting us in your house.” you joked as you waved to the painting. “let’s get a move on shall we.”

you showed the viewers the kitchen and the living room. each room had a history and a story. it was almost unbelievable to you that someone used to live here and that many years ago. “people speculate that his death was caused by a murder,” you widened your eyes for the dramatic effect. “maybe his spirit still lives here. waiting in revenge.”

“don’t joke about that stuff,” your assistant pouted.

you loved the creepiness. this was what your whole channel was about. you wanted to show people the mysterious, the unknown so you followed up on folklores. yeti, big foot, the lockness monster, all stories passed down from generations to generations. this year was ghosts. maybe they weren’t real, maybe they were, either way this was the perfect place to find out.

finally, you were in the bedroom of mahito. it looked collected, almost clean. like no had ever touched it after him. “that seems so unlikely that this place wasn’t touched! there had to be some looters or druggies that came in here. the door was unlocked. they must of wanted to steal everything here.”

the bedroom was huge. it had a glorious, chivalry bed in the middle of the room and most things were covered in gold. you could tell mahito had good taste.

“i think we should leave. i’m starting to get a bad feeling.”

you waved off your assistant, “we’re fine. now i’ll make a banging noise with my feet, alright. it’ll sound like a ghost and then i’ll pretend to be scared. good? okay, action.” you stomped your feet and jerked around back and forth. “did you hear that friends? it sounded like a-”

then another stomp and a loud bang. it sounded like something or someone fell. “-ghost,” you finished your sentance with a gulp.

“y/n, was that you?” your friend shook.

“...no…” you were quiet. again the sound! it was a bump, then footsteps.

“that’s it, i’m done.” your assistant propped the camera on the wooden desk nearby. “i am not risking it.”

“m-maybe it’s an animal. yeah. stop being afraid, it’s probably nothing.”

“i don’t care. i don’t like it here. i’m going. you can call an uber. i quit.” your assistant spat, running down the stairs.

“yeah, whatever! i didn’t need you. i can take videos myself!” you shouted.

there were no more noises but you picked up your camera, aiming at the closet. “let’s see what mahito’s clothing looked like in that time.” you opened up the door and what stood there made you jump and scream! “it’s a ghost!”

there, eyes directly baring into your soul, was the ghost of mahito. he had a scowl on his face and his eyes glared at you.”i never allowed you into my house.”

“g-g-g-g-g,” you dropped your camera as you fell onto the floor. scooting backwards until your back hit the bed.

“g-g-g-g-g-what? spit it out.” mahito walked out of the closet, hands crossed.

“ghost!” you pointed to him.

“you humans annoy me. what are you doing in my house?”

you stayed quiet, shocked that this was happening.

mahito tapped his foot then retrieved a long,silver knife from his closet. “better start talking or else.”

“i was doing a video. for my youtube channel. i didn’t know you were here.”

“you didn’t think ghosts were real?” he gave a sliverying smile, almost snake like. “well, my dear, we really are real. i’m as real as you are.”

“y-you scare me,” you shook, hands hugging yourself.

mahito flew to your ear, whispering, “good. you should be scared of me.”

you finally found the courage to stand up. as you did, you hastily ran to the door. you needed to escape.

mahito threw his knife at the door, close to your head, “not so fast human. i didn’t say you could leave. try that agian and i’ll slit your throat from one ear to the other. understand.” mahito laughed. he held his belly because he laughed so much, “you should see your face right now. all the color drained! even your lips quivering.” he stepped in front of you and held your chin. he was cold, ice cold and felt almost like a feather on you. was this how it felt being touched by a ghost? his lips landed on yours. moving quickly and biting your lip. he would have proceeded had you not pushed him away. “get off me!”

“i can feel your heart. turns out, you don’t really have one when you’re a ghost. i wonder how it feels again to have blood pumping through your veins and keeping your heart alive. it must feel warm and covered like a blanket.”

“i don’t know what you want, but you better stay back.” you saw beside your head the knife and pulled it out of the door. you swung at him. “i’m warning you.”

“oh no! the girl’s got a knife,” he feined crying. “whatever am i to do.” he stopped and walked into the knife, it not puncturing him at all. in fact, the knife went through him. “i’m a ghost baby, remember.” he grabbed the back of your head and forced you onto the floor.

“stop!” you kicked your legs. “what do you want from me?”

“how bout this? if you let me do whatever i want to you, i’ll let you live. if you don’t i will kill you here right now and haunt all your friends for eternity. understand?”

he was right. you were shaking. your hands were clenched and your heart was beating uncontrollably. but you had to weigh out your options.

“alright, you can do whatever you want to me.”

“good girl,” he patted your head. “smart at last. well first i want you naked and perfectly seated on my bed.”

your breath quivered and you gulped. you must listen. you hesitantly started with your sweater then your jeans, leaving you in your bra and panties. “my, my, my, you really are beautiful, aren’t you, y/n.”

“how do you know my name?” you looked up at him.

he wrapped his hand around your throat, putting pressure there. his eyes fixated on the way your neck looked. “i heard you and your little friend. she’s smart. if i let you live then you can tell her she was right and you were wrong.”

you breathing was being shortened from his strength around your neck. his grip tightening every second. “now, i want you out of that.” he eyed your bra and panties.

“yes, sir.” you took them off, feeling embarrassed. yes he was dead and a ghost but for some reason you still were flustered. “is-is this better?” you looked away. face heating up.

he chuckled darkly, “such a good girl.” his head dipped down and kissed you. his pastel blue hair cascaded over your face. your eyebrows twisted and your hands pressed against his chest, clutching his fabric there. “mmmm,” you moaned as his tongue came out and swiped your lower lip, then intruding into your mouth, not asking, just taking. his tongue almost felt snake like. it slithering inside yours, curling and twirling.

“i haven’t been intimate with a woman in years. i too have needs. and you are going to make me feel good.” he said between kisses. his hands held onto the back of your neck, deepening the kiss. his fingers ghosted over your nipples. “so hard? if you’re so afraid then why are you so turned on, human?”

“fuck,” you moaned as you arched your back, trying to close the gap between you and him. it was your body, it was going against you.

“i want you, little one, to make me feel good. if you can make me cum, i’ll let you leave.”

your mouth was opened wide in shock. how were you supposed to do that? you felt so useless. “yes mahito.”

mahito sat on the floor and you joined him. you helped him take his shirt off and then his trousers. your eyes didn’t leave his chest. he was very well formed. his muscles protruding and his pink nipples already hard. he even had abs, trailing down to his hair above his cock which was also the grayish-blue. you took his cock and started to move your hands up and down, wanting him to feel your fingers around him. your finger nails lightly scratched the skin there. you were surprised to see it twitch a little. he moved his head back, eyes closed as he controlled his breathing. you circled his dick, making a ring with your tiny hands as you picked up the pace.

you felt powerful to have a ghost’s dick in your hand. he was enjoying himself and getting turned on.

you maneuvered his cock so that it rubbed against your cunt.

“oooh, that feels good.” mahito smiled wide. loving how you grabbed his cock and started grinding on it. the side of his dick rubbed against your clit. it was making you wet too.

“shit, fuck,” you groaned as all his veins and grooves hit your clit perfectly. the friction making you hot and a knowing feeling in the pit of your stomach. you could tell mahito was about to cum with the way his cock twitched and was swollen.

curiosity got the better of you. you had always wanted ot know what it was like to fuck a ghost. you took charge and laid mahito back and climbed on his hard dick.

“just like that, sink onto me human. i want you to fuck me so good. i haven’t been inside a cunt for years.” he heaved, eyes rolling in the back of his head.

“fuck me,” you felt impaled by his thick dick. it wasn’t long but its girth was wide. he stretched you out completely. your hands rested on his pecs and you started hopping on his cock. your boobs slapped and bounced with each move. you were riding him. loving how your weight causes him to go even deeper inside you. “that’s it, right there. all hot for me. fucking a ghost. better tell your friend or maybe your viewers how it felt to have a ghost inside you.”

“i feel so full, mahito.” you shuddered. he still felt cold to the touch. perhaps your heat could warm him up. mahito’s big hands grabbed the globes of your ass, squeezing your flesh there and slapping it, urging you to ride faster. “that’s it. ride me, human. ride me faster.” he massaged your ass, dragging you against his cock. his hands left your ass and traveled up to your neck. he squeezed tight. your vision became hazy from the breath reaching you, but you still kept fucking him. your clit was hitting deliciously on his dick. you loved how swollen he was inside you. his face contorted into a look of pure bliss. his lips were plump and swollen from his constant lip biting. you added more to that as you bent over and bit his lip. for some reason you didn’t want this but now your body needed it. it craved it. he hit your spot, over and over. you loved how it felt that he was about to split you in two with how big he was. still you kept gaining height then fell down to take him fully in, all the way to the hilt. you did that repeatedly and noticed cream on his cock, was that yours or his? you could smell sex in the air and could smell him, it was sweet almost, this was ghost cum?

mahito grabbed onto your hair, messing it up as he pulled and tugged it slightly. “that’s it. fuck me. fuck.” he couldn’t find the words. you loved bouncing on his dick, loved the face he made. “ahh, mahito. i don’t know if i can take any more.” you winced.

mahito wanted to finish, he had to. again he grabbed your neck and started annihilating you. with his ghostly strength he started pounding inside you from underneath. your mouth was in a wide o as your screams were silent. nobody has ever fucked you like this before.

“that’s it. that’s it. fuckin take it like a good little human. you know you like that.” he growled in your ear as he held your ass cheeks apart as he would exit and entere you. his cock bobbing up, making his balls slapp your cunt. it jumped up and would hit you. you coated it with your juices.

“fuck i think i’m gonna,” you cried. feeling the rise of it all.

“cum. yes, cum on my cock,” mahito urged you, snarling through his teeth. you moaned as you came. circling his cock and crying. mahito clenched your throat and groaned, feeling you contract around him. “that’s it. keep doing that. fuck.” mahito just continued inside you till you felt him about to cum. he exited and started jerking off. non-stop moaning as he cummed all over your chest and stomach. it was so much and so white. it got all over you. it was sticky and thick but still cool to the touch. that’s what was different about him.

“congrats little one. you get to live. but i’m not done with you yet.” mahito licked his lips. you were still trying to catch your breath when something caught your attention. it was the camera. this whole time it was staring directly at you and mahito and it was still recording.

“so, do you finally believe in ghosts?” mahito smirked.

your eyes shot up as you giggled sheepishly, “you heard that?

angel’s little words - i thought about this idea a while back during summer & rlly wanted to do this during halloween. and then i saw @blueparadis and @munsonsins do their collab & i thought it would be perfect! so ty for letting me enter! also isn’t our assistant so smart ＼(≧▽≦)／she left in the nick of time. i hope u liked this tho i get nervous posting different stuff esp since it’s mahito hehe

[flowersandbigteeth]

Blast from the past ask about the Kherae aliens based off of this lore…

“The aliens were polite, good providers, and had charming cultural differences that made relationships with them interesting and fresh…Their society worshiped women and after theirs were brutally gassed and murdered, they were protective and devoted husbands. You were pretty jealous you’d never gotten to choose a Kherae at one of their centers, where they let you look through screens filled with eligible bachelors for the right one. All your friends from college were blissfully happy with their new enormous, hunky husbands��The other married officers were polite, but looked at you with indifference. To their credit, married Kherae were pretty devoted to their spouses. They didn’t think of other women. They spoke to you when they needed to and then walked away, never stopping for any pleasantries.”

Questions (sorry this is so long!):

What are some fun tidbits of Kherae culture that make dating them fun and interesting? What’s the courtship culture?

When a human woman “selects” her potential husband, does the Kherae just go along with it cause he wants any mate he can get? Or do they go through dating like how we normally do, and meet lots of other potential spouses to make sure they’re compatible? Do the Kheare get to “choose” too, or nah?

Would the offspring of Kherae and a human be half and half? Or are Kherae genes really dominant? What’d the offsprings’ appearance be like? (I had read the post about monster and human offspring, and was wondering if the same lore applied to the aliens).

It was really fun to read the Kherae stories. And with the lore parts, it really hit me again of how scary men could be towards women because so much of what you beautifully wrote is plausible in reality, or already happens one way or another. Like the following would 100% happen if it became reality.

“When the Kherae came to Earth looking for human women to repopulate with, human men weren’t exactly thrilled and despite the alien's superior technology, wealth, and honestly, appearance, the men weren’t giving up…Human men, who committed most of the crime in the past were further and further ostracized from society as women were more and more occupied with the aliens…Most of the crime now were men protesting or causing other trouble with home grown terrorism attempts, trying to get some attention.”

It’s scary how a lot of men regardless of race, ethnicity, or nationality feel entitled to women. And you see this a lot in online incel communities and in far right groups that broadcast their messages. Women are property, and are a man’s right from the day they’re born.

This is a personal experience I had online and see occasionally, but I’ve had x race men feel specifically entitled to the women of same race, and become absolutely rabid when x race women date outside of their race. What’s even worse is that the men encourage racism themselves, and say, “You should try x race women because abc reasons.” Goes to show that women are also just trophies or are treated like some type of card collectible. It really is scary. This topic also resonates with me a lot because I’m from a culture/country that very much did NOT value females to the point laws had to be put in place to circumvent female infanticide. So you can imagine how my eyes pop into heart shapes whenever a man is written to love and respect women. It’s always funny but still terrifying that some groups of men complain about women leaving x group for literal better prospects, because it’s your groups fault for the poor treatment of women? As they say, reap what you sow.

So sorry for this ridiculous long send in. I just really loved your Kherae stories and I obviously needed to get this off my chest from rereading them again. <3

Thank you for all your thoughts! Your observations are so on point.

This is kind of a long answer 😅 but I hope I got everything, I answered your questions about the Kherae under the cut 👇🏾

TW: domestic violence

Sometimes I feel sad writing these stories. Even though they are fantasy there is a lot of reality and vulnerability folded in. I was reading something about the "women going their own way" phenomenon happening in different countries and I totally understand that. Abusive people will pretend to be nice and sweet for YEARS before they show their true colors. Why would I want to take a risk on a potentially controlling, abusive partner who will destroy everything I've built for myself when I can just hang out with my friends, read romance novels, walk my dog, and have peace of mind?

To your point, I hate the passport bros comments where they write little manifestos about how x race or ethnicity is more servile and feminine. It's a bizarre fantasy they've created to comfort themselves and justify their behavior. Like you said, there is a distinct intersection between racism and mysogyny, the racism creating another avenue to objectification.

I was reading something not too long ago about a counselor who worked at a prison dealing with domestic abusive men and he asked the men why they wouldn't stop being abusive and they all said, assuming you don't get caught, there is no downside to being abusive. You get your way, you force someone to serve you, and it's hard to be prosecuted. He was at a loss as to how to rehabilitate them because unlike substance abuse, for example, where you can point out how drugs or alcohol have ruined their lives, they have literally no reason to quit their abusive ways. Once they get out of jail, they can just find someone less likely to call the cops on them and do it all again.

I am personally in favor of rehabilitative justice, but I have no idea what to do with that. That put a lot of toxic behavior into perspective for me. You can scale that up to national laws and you can scale it down to guys on Twitter and the reality is always the same. There's no reason for them to try and change when abuse works for them. So maybe a lot of my writing is in response to that. It's nice to think about someone who uses their strength to support you, not tear you down, even if tearing you down is the easier, more profitable action.

My closest guess is that we need to cultivate a gentler world. Idk how you teach empathy, but as a society we've been dropping the ball on that. In all aspects of at least American culture we prioritize cruelty as a rule.

On a lighter note, to answer your questions:

1. The Kherae have been starved from romantic companionship most of their lives. At the the timeline I'm writing, most of them were little boys when the females were murdered, so they don't have much experience in it. That said they are enthusiastic and willing to try. They are fascinated with Earth for a number of reasons. One of them is that their planet is very monochrome. Most plants are some shade of purple and they evolved to match that environment (hence their skin tone). They love human gardens and gardening because there are SO MANY colors! A human can expect to receive bouquets, potted plants, and if he can, he'll be in your backyard planting things.

Since most of them were raised with no hope of a future, their elders taught them to exist in a constant state of orderly duty so that their society didn't fall apart. The general thought was "go into the darkness with dignity." If they did become extinct, they didn't want the universe to see their society fall into chaos before they disappeared. Because of that, most of them, deeply value respect. They can appear somewhat stoic at times, but they would never embarrass you in public and go to great lengths to protect your honor.

After the tragedy, the arts in Kherae society changed tone abruptly. There were many shrines and literary works mourning their loss. Slowly their culture became less and less interested in the arts as it seemed somewhat pointless and they were all very depressed. When they arrive to Earth and see the spectrum of art, music, and literature they are thrilled. Many of them are fascinated with human movies, love going to concerts, and art museums. They will take you on lots of culture dates. They adore museums, art shows, painting classes, movies, concerts...you'll never be bored if you like to go out.

One artistic pursuit that was not lost was dance. They are an athletic culture and great dancers. You can see them in clubs doing backflips and all sorts of crazy physical feats you would not expect these large aliens to be capable of.

2. When a human picks a Kherae there is a dating period for them to get to know one another and see if they are compatible. It's important to note that they believe in "fated mates." It's unclear if that mystical reality exists, but what's important is most of them deeply believe that it does. They interpret being chosen as fate, so they will do their very best to impress you. If more than one woman is interested in one Kherae he will be allowed to choose who he believes he is more compatible with. Despite how excited they are, they are happy to take a relationship slow. Their core values include loyalty and respect so they want humans to be very sure before they commit. When they first arrived, there were some broken hearts because humans are used to dating around and breakups being normal. Kherae want to choose a person they will be together forever and dating for fun not for a long term relationship is confusing for them.

3. When I first started writing about them, they had half and half children, some looking more like one parent than another, but many of them have skin slightly shaded purple and grow small horns and tails. So it is different from my monster fics.

---

I hope that answers everything 🙏🏾 I love your thoughts, they made me look at the stories from a different angle, which is cool 😎

[submissivegayfrenchboy]

24 / 04 / 2024

FINDING YOUR PLACE AS A WHITEBOY - A BNWO SHORT STORY

A young white man was walking when he saw a large, muscular Black man walking two handsome young men on a leash who were obviously his human dogs. He was so immense that the heads of the slaves barely reached above the giant's navel. They wore only a tiny pink chastity cage and nothing else, and they were completely shaved except for their hair. It was a way of keeping their identity and being able to recognize them.

“Poor unfortunate boys”, he said to himself.

The huge Black man sat on a bench in a park and his human dogs did not reach beyond his knees. On his orders, they licked his very long shoes, only to publicly humiliate them.

The white man thought that these two young men were enslaved since the Debt Act, created to make a person incapable of repaying his debt a human property. In reality, this Law only applied to white people owing money to Black people, in order to discreetly but gradually and concretely begin the slavery of Whites towards Blacks.

Nowadays it was really common to see white girls leashed by Black women, white girls leashed by Black men, whiteboys leashed by Black Women or Men, or a Black family, a Black couple or an interracial (Black man and white woman) couple. They were just dogs. Walking on their knees or hands and feet or standing but behind their Master / Mistress. Nobody looked at it, because most of the living pets were whiteboys and everyone agreed that whiteboys aren't useful to society so they deserves to be enslaved.

These young men leashed by the Black giant were probably students who couldn't pay their rent on time, or something like that, but it didn't matter anymore.

From now on they will remain for the rest of their miserable lives the human dogs of a huge Black man.

They didn't seemed to enjoy their life, and that's why the free whiteboy realized he should tell his opinion to the Black giant.

“He has no right to treat them like his dogs, they are humans after all. I’m going to go tell him what I think”, he naively decided without thinking.

The white man shouted : “How dare you treat his two poor boys like dogs? 😡”

The Black man stood up very calmly and the white man realized that his head was reaching under the muscular giant's pectorals.

“Oh my god you are so impressive, I completely forgot what I wanted to say... 😳” said the skinny white guy.

"Yes, I'm much more muscular than you, boy" replied the Black master in a loud voice. "These two white dogs belong to me. But if you were so shocked, you wouldn't be envious of their fate, as it seems to be. To my left is Asslicker and to my right is Dicksucker Would you like to become Feetlicker and worship a Black master?"

Faced with this giant, the boy realized his inferiority and immediately accepted. On the master's orders, he immediately went to buy a leash and a chastity cage, returned to the park, undressed, threw away his clothes and offered his identity papers to the Black giant.

The Black giants put the collar around the slave's neck and pulled the leash: he now had three little white dogs as slaves. One to lick his huge ass, the other to suck his big cock and the other to worship his long feet. The doggies were forbidden to speak without permission from the master, but he was so tall that he could not hear them speak or whisper.

"I can't believe you just asked him to take you as a slave" said Dicksucker, one of the slaves already purchased. "you realize that you have just given up your freedom. Why did you do that?"

"Are you kidding? I'll be able to lick feet for the rest of my life. The beautiful life I dreamed of is finally mine. Yay!", Feetlicker answered.

Asslicker was shocked. "We had no choice, but you did! Why would a white boy want to belong to a Black man as a dog for eternity?"

Feetlicker, the new dog, had never been so happy. Euphoric, he replied: "The better question is why aren't white boys already the property of Black men? They are superior to us in everything! I have never had a girlfriend, a stable job, faithful friends. At least my place in life is assured! I would have preferred to have been born in a kennel and to have been bought by this master since birth to be his dog!"

"You're really crazy, you disgust me 😒🙄" said Dicksucker, who hated his life in the service of a Black giant and hated this law too.

Yet Feetlicker's devotion was rewarded and the ingratitude of others punished: Asslicker became the Master's human toilet and never saw the outside world again, condemned to eating the shit and drinking the piss of the Master's many friends and family members.

As for Dicksucker, he was sold to an African brothel to suck huge black cocks for the rest of his days.

While Feetlicker was the happy dog ​​of a protective black man who made him lick his immense, very muscular body and fucked him to reward him.

The moral is that little white boys who are incapable of managing themselves can only find happiness and usefulness in the service of black men, and that it is the future of humanity to enslave them.

END OF THE STORY

Other story about a whiteboy being a pet

@blacksupremacygoddess @tidodore2 @leftprogrammingroadtripdean @wileyct @awhitegirlspassion @rape-and-raceplay @rainykpoptravelcreator @gayhopefullove @lovefanfiction01 @innerpiratefun @bnwo @blackcockriders @bnwoserverworld @blackmasterdominantforgoodfag @whiteboylovesblack @whiteboyforbbc @bbcaddiction2 @mnwosupporter