#my cats dead and i’m getting divorced | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

callsigndragon · 2 years

Text

Seeing Red | Ch. 5: Used to it ✍️

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x ex-wife!Reader (Call sign: Red Queen)

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: sassy red, jake being an ass, more mav and jake being father and son, mentions of dead, some ex-wife/ex-husband unresolved tension, and... Liam's reveal.

A/N: I literally wrote this in 4 hours i was REAALLY obsessed with this idea and here it is. Comments are welcomed and THERE'S AN AUTHOR NOTE AT THE END THAT EXPLAINS A BIT SOME PARTS OF THIS BUT IT'S IN THE END TO AVOID SPOILERS.

(Whoever wants to be tagged, comment down below!)

Masterlist on pinned

When you walk out of the base towards the tarmac, you see Jake talking with someone. He seems older. Both of them turn toward you, Jake attempting to flee as soon as he recognizes your presence, but the other one stops him, both of them approaching you. Once they’re close, you remember who the other man is.

"Captain Mitchell?" you ponder, covering your eyes with your hand because the sun is shining brighter than usual.

“Red Queen! It’s been a while. Last time we worked together, you weren’t even married.” He says, Jake groaning beside him.

“If you told me that I would get married and divorced in the span of three years, I would have said that was bullshit.”

“How many times are you gonna mention it?” Jake protests, taking off his glasses.

“The same amount of times I tried to call you and text you after you left the fucking divorce papers on the kitchen counter.” You challenge him, waiting for his reaction.

“I guess they were a lot.” Maverick adds, making Jake cover his face in disbelief. “Anyway, Cyclone told me that you were doing a dogfighting exercise, so I thought I could join."

“Mav, did he give you the green light, or are you trying to make me break some rules on my first day?”

“Well, maybe he didn’t agree 100%. But I want to help you!”

You’re about to protest when you feel your phone ring in your pocket. “I’m gonna take this call and go ask Cyclone. Wait for me to come back, and I’ll let you know if you can fly or not, Mav.”

You turn around and get inside the building, answering the call. You don’t even need to check the screen to know who it is.

“Hey pretty boy.”

“So… you fucked up real good, buddy.”

“Oh yeah? I didn’t notice.” He is tempted to walk away, but then he hears Red talking.

"Hey pretty boy"

"Pretty boy?" Jake mumbles, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Looks like she has moved on." Mav whispers, patting Jake's back.

"No, Liam, we can't have a cat. We have a dog, and that's a lot of work already."

Red enters the building, and Jake stays there, completely astonished. "Who the fuck is Liam?"

"Your replacement?" He shrugs.

"Fuck off, Mav"

And just like he did hours ago, Mav smacks Jake's head again. "I'm not the bad guy here, son. And I don't know if you're allowed to be mad. You asked for a divorce."

"You know why I did it."

Mav sighs, taking off his glasses. "Yeah, I know. And I told you there may have been other ways to solve the problem."

"I couldn't find any other one. Look, I can tolerate being around her at work. But she's gonna be friends with all the team because that's how she is, just the purest human being to ever walk on earth. I'm telling you now, if I have to see her walk in the Hard Deck hand in hand with an asshole that doesn’t deserve her, I'm asking for a relocation."

"And you think you deserve her? Jake, I know better than anyone how you feel. I let Penny slip away from me many times, and I came back many more. I just—" he looks around, as if trying to find the right words. "I just want you to remember that you vowed to be together for better and for worse. And when the worst came, you didn't tell her and made a decision by yourself."

"You think I don't know that?" He takes out his phone, showing the lock screen to Mav. "I never changed it. I couldn’t. It's a reminder of what I had and what I lost. A fleeting glimpse of the only happiness I've ever known, and an endless torment of what I lost."

Mav scoffs. "You sound like that guy from Pride and Privilege."

"...you mean Pride and Prejudice?"

"THAT ONE!"

"Really, Mav? One of the greatest books to ever be written, and you don't even know the title?"

"Have you even read it?" The older man mocks.

"Yes, I did."

"Bullshit."

"It's true, I bought it for him," Red says, walking past them. "Get in your plane, pops. We're going for a ride."

Jake watches Red jogging towards her plane, new letters added to the side, her name and call sign. And his last name. Seresin, in big black letters.

“Why did she keep my name?” Jake ponders.

“What?”

“Look." He points at Red's aircraft. "Seresin. Why is she using it?”

“I don’t think I have a good answer for that, son. Come on, I have to fly.”

It's all good until Jake's turn comes. All of them are amazing pilots, of course, they're the best of the best. You didn't expect anything different. Rooster is the fastest to take you out. Mav explains to you how, until a few years ago, he was afraid of his own potential. You can hear how proud Mav is now, as if Rooster were his own son. In a way, you know he is.

"Hey, Red. Can I ask you a question?" Bob mutters through the comms.

"You just did, Bob." You laugh. "Of course you can."

"Why Red Queen as a call sign? You don't seem like the kind of girl that chops off heads."

You laugh again, turning to be closer to Phoenix's plane. You wave at Bob and he waves back with a chuckle. "It has some resemblance to the Red Queen, but not entirely. Have you heard of the Red Queen hypothesis?"

"Not really."

"According to the Red Queen hypothesis, a species needs to evolve and adapt in order to survive because its competitors are doing the same."

"Did you evolve and adapt?"

"Yep. Being an aviator wasn't in my plans." You confess, remembering the old times.

"And what were your plans?"

"She wanted to be a lawyer."

"I don't think they were asking you, Seresin." You retort, moving your plane to an inverted position, and flying above Jake's plane. "If I want you to talk, I'll let you know."

"I think you're abusing your power, Commander," he mutters, looking straight into your eyes.

"I'm just giving you as many chances to talk as you gave me, Lieutenant."

You move your plane away, the radio has become silent. "But yeah, I wanted to be a lawyer."

"What changed?"

"My dad died in Iraq when I was a teenager. His plane crashed. He wanted to defend his country so much that he died doing it. And I took his place."

"Adapt in order to survive." Bob mutters.

"That's it."

“It says a lot about you, Red. Your father will be proud.” Mav comments, moving to your right. “Anyway, are we gonna play or what?”

“Yeah, we’re in the right place already. Okay, Phoenix, Jake, you have thirty seconds to fly away from us. After that, fight’s on.”

“Aye aye, Red”

“Yes, Commander.”

A tiny part of you almost feels bad that Jake has to address you by rank.

Almost.

You wait thirty seconds. Mav immediately goes after Phoenix, and you know he’s giving you the chance to see how Jake reacts. Instead of going after Mav to ‘free’ Phoenix, he leaves his wingman alone. What the fuck does he think he’s doing?

“Phoenix, Mav, stop right now.”

You see both aircrafts slowing down. “Did something happen, Red?” Phoenix asks, flying back to you.

“Lieutenant Seresin, I want you to fly back to the base right this instant and wait on the tarmac until I finish all the exercises of the day.”

“Can I ask why, Commander?”

“You’re not leaving your wingman alone, not under my command. If I have to be paired with you on a mission because Cyclone ordered me to carry your ass everywhere I go, you’re not gonna fucking leave me alone so you can make some maneuvers and take the glory.”

“Red, I work better like that.”

“First of all, it’s Commander for you. Second, you’re gonna work as I say, cause I’m in charge here, not you. Not anymore. Is that clear?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You whisper. “I should be used to it by now.”

“Used to what?” he asks.

“To you, leaving people behind. Everyone back to the base. We’re done for the day.”

It takes all your power not to cry. The idea of being on a mission and having Jake leave you behind, just because he has the biggest ego ever known in human history, makes you shiver. Being abandoned is a feeling you don’t want to experience again.

You spend the rest of the day in your office, working on the report Cyclone asked you to write. You don’t want to be that type of ex, but you have to write a bad review of Jake’s work. He only needed ten seconds to abandon his wingman. How has he been working here for so long? It’s a complete mystery to you.

You’re printing it up when you hear a soft knock on your door. “Come in.”

“Commander”

You should look up from your work the next time someone knocks on the door. “Do you need something, Seresin?”

“Actually, yes. I have questions.” He says, while closing the door. He takes a seat in one of the chairs in front of your desk.

“And what makes you think you have the right to ask anything?” You question, collecting all the sheets of paper from the printer.

“Why are you still using my name?”

“It became mine too when you married me. Just never thought about changing it.”

“That’s not it, Red. We both know it”

“Whatever my reasons are, I don’t have to explain them to you.” You argue, getting up from your chair and collecting your things before exiting the office. Jake follows you, seems like he doesn’t want to end the conversation there.

“I think I deserve an explanation. It’s my name, after all.”

You stop in your tracks, turning around so fast that your body collides against Jake’s. You look up, all the hurt, pain, and fury accumulated over the last three years lighting a fire in your soul that must be visible to him, because he moves a step back. “Jake, it’s just a name; don’t be such a dick about it. It’s not because I still love you or whatever stupid idea you have running around in your head. It was a lot of paperwork that I didn't want to deal with. Happy? Now wait here, or do you want to enter Cyclone’s office? I heard it’s like your second home”

You enter Cyclone's office. He told you before that he had to leave to attend to some important matters, but you could leave the report on his desk without problem. You take a moment to breathe deeply, your hands shaking with the many unsaid words that you have kept in your chest for far too long. But you know you can’t tell him what you want to. Not now.

When you walk out of the room, he’s still there. “You’re really annoying, you know?”

“I want my answer.” He insists.

“Why do you care so much, Jake? You left me, you literally abandoned me and never looked back, and now you are demanding that I answer your questions? Fuck off.”

You hurry out of the building, looking for your car keys in your bag, when you see a familiar blue car parked in front of you, a woman in her sixties helping a small kid get out of the backseat.

No. No. No.

“What are they doing here?” you whisper under your breath.

“Red, wai- Charlotte?” Jake recognizes your mom in an instant. The woman in question turns around and waves at Jake with a gleeful smile.

This has to be a fucking nightmare. You stay there, completely frozen, knowing that there’s no way in hell you’re getting out of this. You see your kid walking towards you, making grabby hands and giggling. You haven't seen him in two days, having to leave him with your mother to prepare everything in this new base, this new home... You couldn’t bring him yet.

“Liam wait!” Your mom yells, but he doesn’t stop. He has seen someone he knows very well, but has never met in real life. Someone he has seen a lot of photos of. The man that appears in the photo frame placed on his bedside table. It’s a photo of your wedding.

“Dada?”

“What did he say?” Jake whispers, standing at your side as frozen as you are.

“He called you dada.” You declare, already giving in. If this is happening, you're gonna do it right.

Liam stands in front of him, tears in his eyes, as he watches Jake. “Dada is you?”

“I—I don’t know.” He turns at you, fear in his eyes. Oh Lord, what have you done? “Am I his dada?”

You kneel down, taking Jake’s hand and dragging him down with you, both now at the same height as the little kid, who looks at you with a confused expression and wet cheeks. “You want to know why I never got rid of your last name? Well, Jake. Let me introduce you to Liam Alexander Seresin.”

“Oh my god, y-you were pregnant; that’s why you-” He starts to hyperventilate. “Y-you signed the papers to protect him?”

You can’t believe this is happening. This isn’t how you planned to tell him. “Jake, calm down. I didn’t know I was pregnant, I swear, but I need you to calm down.” You don’t want him to have one of his panic attacks in front of Liam, it would scare him.

"Dada, don’t cry.” Liam pouts, his chubby hands rising to touch his father’s cheeks.

“C-can I hug you, buddy?”

Liam throws himself in Jake’s body, the pilot starts crying when he realizes what he had done. He didn’t just leave his wife.

He left his wife and his unborn child. She had to raise him all alone.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats over and over again, his head buried in his son’s hair. Liam smells like her; he’s a miniature version of her with his eyes and nose. It’s everything he once hoped to have.

And he had missed his first steps, his first words, and his first laugh.

Just because he thought that by divorcing her, he could save her.

How wrong he was.

A/N: THERE HE ISSSSSSS. Yes you guessed it, Liam is Jake and Red's son. And here is the explanation you need.

Jake asked for a divorce three years ago. Like actually, is going to be almost three years in a few days (fic time). Liam is a Valentine baby. Jake asked for a divorce on May, Red didn't know she was pregnant until a few days later, when she started to feel sick. She signed the paper's almost immediately after Jake left them in their house, and gave them to her lawyer. They never saw each other again. The reasons why Red didn't tell Jake about the baby, are part of the fic so, I won't tell.

But as it has been hinted, Liam knows who his father is, Red has a picture of him placed in Liam's room, and she tells him about him whenever he wants to know about his dad. Red having Jake as her lockscreen pic? So Liam could see a pic of him every time he wanted.

Liam is now two years and a half. He has Jake's eyes and nose, but is as sassy as his mom.

More details about him will be revealed in next chapters. This is only the beginning of the journey the seresin family will be going through.

And that's all. Have a good night/day!

-Jinx.

Tag list: @purplevortexx @shrimping-for-all @caitsymichelle13 @callmemana @abaker74 @starkleila @topgunmenbefinebruh @blue-aconite @tayrae515 @alexxavicry @xoxabs88xox @mercurio23 @smells-like-perfect-senses @dempy @djs8891 @indynerdgirl @countryclubswifey @lauenderhaze @avaleineandafryingpan @poppyalice2001 @emorychase @wildxwidow @agentwayne17 @shanimallina87

423 notes · View notes

lesbianandstressing · 1 year

Text

station 19 family headcanons

i’m choosing to ignore the fact that dean is dead and surrera divorced for the sake of my own sanity

all of the station are basically siblings with ben as their father

vic is the baby and everyone is very protective of her

maya is the second youngest but doesn’t let anyone coddle her

(except for carina)

robert actually has a playful side and has pulled a few pranks on some members of the team

travis is a bit of a scaredy cat and robert loves hiding behind corners and scaring him half to death

robert once found vic crying because it was lucas’ birthday, and he was feeling very similarly

they ended up comforting each other and sharing stories about lucas

vic and andy take naps on the hoses during shifts

other team members join them sometimes

during a very slow 36 hour shift, vic took of her shoes and started sliding around the station in her socks

everyone else joined her

travis couldn’t stop falling over and it would make everyone crack up every time

dean tried to slide and look really cool but ended up falling on his ass

little pruitt miller has everyone in the station wrapped around her little finger

like nobody can say no to her

one time when jack was babysitting she had ice cream for breakfast

dean was not happy but couldn’t blame him

nerf gun wars all the time

jack brought a fully automatic machine nerf gun and started shooting

everyone had to duck for cover but theo got hit in the nose

however maya declared carina as a no shoot zone

if they even dare shoot her maya will kill them

with nerf of course

theo is actually a decent shooter, and can hit anyone without trying

jack got hit the most and was forced to clean up

lots of wrestling matches and pillow fights

dean usually starts them

maya finishes them

very physically affectionate with each other, lots of hugs and cuddles

ben always scolds them for misbehaving and causing havoc

he’s just being dad

theo, robert, and andy always speak in spanish when they don’t want anyone else to know what they are saying

carina attempts to do the same with maya in italian but maya is a lost cause with that

everyone always gets so excited when carina comes to the station with food

she’s the best at cooking and everyone knows it

dean wants his daughter to be educated in all cultures, and has andy and theo teach her about latinx culture

he also asks carina to teach pru about italian culture

pru picks up bits and pieces of both italian and spanish languages

maya once again feels outnumbered

andrew deluca’s photo is right next to captain herrera’s in the display case

despite not being a firefighter, he is still just as much of a hero

carina cried when she saw it

the team threw a party for carina when she became head of the OB department at grey sloan

maya and carina both cried

jack is such a deep sleeper that everyone loves putting random things on him while he rests

jack once woke up with everyone’s helmets covering his body

needless to say he was confused

vic put an entire chair on him while he slept

anyways i miss them

#station 19 #maya bishop #carina deluca #travis montgomery #dean miller #jack gibson #robert sullivan #andy herrera #vic hughes #theo ruiz #ben warren #station 19 headcanons

73 notes · View notes

chaotic-iguana · 1 year

Text

bruh.

what. what the fuck.

writing started off as an exploration; a hobby that i was just trying out. something new, to pass the time. but i feel like it has now evolved into an extension of my art. over time, my stories starting having more and more elements of the poetry-inspired commentary i like to have in the forefront of my paintings, or very simply the imagery i used to include in my poems themselves.

but that isn’t even the best part.

i’ve been writing for around a month, and i absolutely adore literally every single mutual i have on here. @breakfastatjoels, @mandoisapunk, @josephquinnswhore, @bastardmandennis, @nostalxgic, @pedrosaidsheispunk, @theywhowriteandknowthings @millerscoffee

you’re all such inspirations im so glad to know u all thank u all for existing i gen would not have kept writing/still be on this site without yall and i promise im wrapping up i just think its a little fucked that im…gaining traction? how? and the crazy thing?? that list of ppl tagged up there are like just the ones i could remember off the top of my head!! there’s so many more! @imherefordeanandbones, was my first follower and the first on my taglist, and one of the first people to make me think my writing was actually not that bad for a beginner!!

anyways while i literally question everything and melt in gratitude, i hope you all have great days. thank you very much. let’s hope we see many more!!

enough sappy shit.

as a celebration, im gonna write fics, blurbs or hcs (saw/nsfw) based on the following prompts:

this is from @havenoffandoms 800 follower celebration! just send me your character pairing and prompt. list below the cut

“I’m in love with you. Please, don’t leave me.”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

“It’s really not that complicated.”

“You’re in love with them, aren’t you?”

“We could get arrested for this.”

“I thought you were dead.”

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“Love is overrated.”

“If you think I’m going to talk to you while you’re dressed like that, you’re wrong!”

“Do you ever actually use your cellphone?”

“You don’t need to protect me.”

“You fainted… right into my waiting arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”

“You have to make a choice.”

“You have to remember.”

“You heard me. Take. It. Off.”

“You know, it’s okay to cry.”

“You lied to me!”

“You make me feel like I’m not good enough.”

“You need to wake up cause I can’t do this without you.”

“You’ll be the death of me.”

“The only thing hotter than seeing your orgasm is seeing your smile.”

“Where do you think you’re going dressed like that? Your body is for my eyes only.”

“From the minute I met them, there was no choice. They’re smart. They’re strong. They resent their parents enough to go for a person like me. Also they’re crazy hot.”

“What do you mean, I’m not scary? I literally nearly scared the life out of a man?” “You literally scared a little saliva and a little urine out of him.”

“When someone your age dies, you instinctively want to hear it was of something that could never happen to you. Well, it’s the same with divorce.”

“I get to stay home and plan the death of Dora the Explorer. Fill her backpack with bricks and throw her into the Candy Cane River.”

“You don’t ‘take a run’ at a person. You woo them. You make them feel special.” “Hey honey, look at this. It’s a picture of my butt.”

“I don’t like you.” “I’ll get over it.”

“You’re one of the most beautiful person I know, and you don’t even know it.” “No, I know it.”

“Why do you always have to throw wet blankets on my dreams?” “I do not.” “Yes you do. And you know what I end up with? Wet dreams.”

“So you’re gonna throw me under the bus?” “Oh, I’m gonna throw you so hard I might even win a stuffed animal.”

“Who wouldn’t be angry if you ate all the cereal and faked your death for three years?”

“Quick, catch the cat it stole my coin pouch!”

“I feel like I was just hit by a car… wait, I did? And it was YOUR car?”

“I can’t believe I’m sitting in a dungeon with you of all people.”

“So why do I have to punch that guy?”

“I may have accidentally sort of adopted five goats.”

“I hope you know that my name is actually _____”

“Please stop petting the prisoners.”

“Please put me down, it’s just a sprained ankle.”

“So what if I broke my arm, I’m still doing it.”

“Why exactly do you need chloroform at 2am?”

“I’m like 75% sure this won’t explode in our faces.”

“You know how my people are, we would destroy ourselves just for spite.”

“Wait, is that what you were trying to do? I’m sorry, I would’ve taken you much more seriously if I knew.”

“Let’s not blow the extortion charge out of proportion. My boss was just a sore loser.”

“Of all things, you would have thought that the rain was innocuous enough. Turns out, nothing is innocuous in this Gods forsaken place!”

“It’s illegal to make unauthorized species. But it’s also illegal to kill endangered species. Thankfully, I only did one of each.”

“The secret ingredient isn’t human flesh, that’s all I can say.”

“Where’s the king?” “He’s being chased by a wyvern. It’s an old tradition, you see.”

“If I serenade for you, will you strip for me?”

“This is new.”

“Make me.”

“Shh. Stop fussing. I’m just braiding your hair.”

“If you steal the blankets, I’m going to put my cold feet on you.”

“Don’t be stubborn. Try it.”

“You are very endearing when you are half-asleep.”

“I heard you talking in your sleep.”

“The thought of losing you scares me.”

“Don’t smile at me like that. You know it drives me crazy.”

thank you. love you all.

#follower celebration #400 followers #thank you #love you all literally so much

56 notes · View notes

remusbutfemale · 11 months

Text

Dead poets society hcs bc I’m insane

Music hcs!

Okay HEAR me out; we all have our ideas on what modern dps would listen to.

But I over analyze every single character so I think I’m spot on.

Starting with Todd!

I have a strong feeling the guy would listen to like a sad romance type of genre? Is that what I can call it😭

—

• These days by Nico

• After hours by The velvet underground

• Always see your face by Love

• The way I feel inside by The Zombies

Neil is very radiohead coded ngl.

• Deleto by Wolf & Bear

• Blossom by Coletta

Literally any Bilmuri song

(He gives off the vibes he would listen to the divorced dad genre)

• Just the artist Origami Button

Okay Steven , I love that man.

Idk what genre this is

• Its fun by the casinos

• Tima by the casinos

(Any song by the casinos)

I don’t think he would listen to David Bowie but I get why people associate him with starman.

• Walking the cat by CottonWood firing squad

Fuckin knox.. idk

Hes 100% into the driver era

• A kiss by the driver era

• Afterglow by the driver era

UGH HE WOULD ALSO LISTEN TO THE OBUNGUS

• new banger by the Obungus

Idk what else he would listen to.

• IV DANTE too probably

Gerard.. I love him too…

I just know bro listens to Daniel Cesar on the DAILY

• Death & Taxes by Daniel Cesar

• Japanese Denim by Daniel Cesar

• ARE YOU OK? by Daniel Cesar

All of his songs basically

Also a bruno major fan

• Old fashioned by Bruno Major

ALSO OMAR APOLLO AND BROCKHAMPTON

• Unbothered by Omar Apollo

• TEAM by BROCKHAMPTON

Okay maybe RINI too

• Aphrodite by RINI

• Meet me in Amsterdam by RINI

Charlie Dalton , love of my life..

Such a tyler fan

• RUNNING OUT OF TIME by Tyler the creator

• DOGTOOTH by Tyler the creator

• A BOY IS A GUN* by Tyler the creator

• Sweet boy by Malcolm Todd

• 4:44 JAY-Z

Also Frank ocean fan

• Super rich kids by Frank Ocean

Sza too

#dead poets fandom #charlie dalton #dead poets aesthetic #dead poets society #steven meeks #dps #neil perry #gerard pitts #todd anderson #music #indie music #music recs #knox overstreet #hcs

30 notes · View notes

erimeows · 4 months

Text

Priorities

Jumin Han is uncomfortable as he sits across from his father, tapping his finger tips against the tabletop of the table they’re at in the middle of the brewery-restaurant.

While lunch with the Chairman tends to be a pleasant occasion, Jumin knows the moment that Juyoung comes into the restaurant that this lunch is going to be the exact opposite of that.

Usually, they meet to talk about business ventures. But, when the other man walks through the door without any other businessmen or even any files held in his wrinkled hands, Jumin knows that this isn’t about business.

It’s a personal lunch.

And that’s not inherently bad. Lately, though, the chairman has been concerned about his personal life. It makes sense- he’s thirty, unmarried, his best friend since childhood was shot dead, his other best friend is now in a mental hospital in another country, and he spends all of his time with his aging cat. Understandably, Chairman Han is concerned and doesn’t understand Jumin or how he grieves.

Instead of putting his feelings out there for the world to see, Jumin chooses to act like his mother and keep his grief locked inside. Sharing it with others won’t help him, anyway.

But of course, his father couldn’t possibly comprehend that- because deep down, he and Jumin are nothing alike. So, like Juyoung does when he’s upset, he tries to encourage Jumin to find something to make him happy and distract him from everything that’s happened.

The two men order their food and craft beer, exchanging smalltalk between bites and sips.

Juyoung is going through yet another divorce. Jumin found out from the tabloids before he heard the news from his father’s mouth. He doesn’t mind either way, though. He’s not surprised. All of his father’s relationships are failures. Every time, he tells his father that the new woman he’s with is after him for his money, and every time, his father dismisses his concerns. Then, when it inevitably blows up in the chairman’s face, he says he knew all along that something with his wife was off. Jumin can’t help but roll his eyes as his father continues to complain.

“Ah, I should’ve known she was no good when she told me the ring I proposed to her with wasn’t big enough!”

“Yes, Father, that’s what I said to you when you informed me how displeased she was following your proposal,” Jumin sighs. “Despite the thousands of dollars you spent to go to France such short notice…”

“Oh, don’t act like you knew,” Juyoung offers a dismissive wave and shakes his head, then gestures to Jumin with his fork. “So, son, have you had any luck?”

Jumin finishes his food, dabs his mouth with a napkin, and sets his silverware down on the plate in front of him before furrowing his brow in confusion.

“Any luck in what regard?”

“You know, dating? At this rate, I’m gonna be on my tenth wife before you get your first girlfriend,” The Chairman jokes.

“And who said I want a girlfriend?”

“Well, a boyfriend is fine, too! I’m very open-minded-”

“No, no, Father,” Jumin huffs and takes a swig of his beer. “What I meant was… Why are you assuming that I want to date at all?”

His father frowns, a concerned expression taking over his face.

“It’s about time that you start prioritizing love in your life. You have me, and I love you so dearly. I’m proud of the man that you’ve become and I wouldn’t change a thing about you, but I won’t always be here to love you,” Juyoung explains. “I just want you to have someone aside from your cat and your little group. Elizabeth won’t live forever, either.”

“You say that you wouldn’t change me, yet it seems as if you’re dissatisfied with the direction I’ve taken in my personal life,” Jumin points out, hurt welling up in his chest. He’s not a sensitive man, but he loves his father dearly, so the chairman’s opinion holds a lot of weight. With Juyoung constantly criticizing his non-existent love life, he can’t help being upset. No matter what Jumin says, every time they have this conversation, it goes the same way- and the next time they have a lunch where Jumin shows up without a woman on his arm, his father will be disappointed in him yet again. “My ‘little group’ happens to be full of my dearest friends. They are enough support for now, and in regards to Elizabeth, I am fully aware that she will pass soon. The last thing I need from you is to be reminded of that.”

“I just-” Chairman Han pauses, then looks away, unable to meet Jumin’s eyes. “I would love for you to have someone to cherish… Someone who isn’t tied to V and his fiance.”

“A woman will never help me to get over what happened to V or over the things that Rika did. It’s shallow of you to think that all of my problems can be solved by falling in love. I’m not like you, Father,” Jumin hisses in a low enough voice that none of the other patrons are able to hear him. Still, Juyoung won’t meet his eyes, even as Jumin stares at him with an icy glare. He normally wouldn’t be this disrespectful, but after so many instances of the same monotonous argument, he’s grown tired of his father’s persistence. “I’m not going to ignore the things that are wrong in my life and distract myself from my flaws by putting all of my time and attention into a woman who doesn’t even want me.”

As Jumin finishes the rest of his beer, his father guiltily frowns while looking at the reflection of himself in his.

“You know that’s not what I meant, son. You should never use a woman as an excuse to ignore your problems.”

“Then why is it acceptable for you to do it and insist that I start doing the same?”

“Jumin… Don’t be like this. You know that I only want what’s best for you.”

Just then, the waiter comes by with the ticket, to which Juyoung gives the man his credit card. The waiter quickly bows and retreats back to the front desk of the restaurant.

“Yes, I’m aware,” Jumin takes the opportunity to stand to leave, so agitated that he can barely look Chairman Han in the eye. “Thank you for the meal, Father.”

“Promise me you’ll think about what I said,” Juyoung says, reaching out to grab Jumin by the wrist. Jumin turns to look back at his father over his shoulder. “I want to see you happy.”

“...Yes,” Jumin nods, eyes falling shut. “I promise. As always, I carefully consider your input… But you do know by now how I feel about this.”

“Okay. I’ll see you soon, son.”

With that, Jumin rushes to get out of the restaurant as fast as he can. He tosses his coat over his shoulder and brings it with him instead of taking the time to pull it on. Then, he locates the car that Driver Kim is in, gets into it, puts on his seatbelt, and uses his cellphone to check on RFA’s messenger.

Jumin Han has entered the chatroom.

Upon entering the chatroom, Jumin notices that Jaehee, Zen, and Yoosung are present. He briefly wonders why Seven isn’t there. For some reason, disappointment washes over him at the realization that Seven is offline, but he tries to ignore it as he watches messages flood onto his phone screen.

Jaehee Kang: Mr. Han, how did lunch with your father go?

Jumin rolls his eyes. It’s been years since Jaehee quit her job as his assistant to open her coffee shop, yet she still calls Jumin ‘Mr. Han’ regularly. Since she’s no longer his assistant, and has since become a good friend, he can’t help but become uncomfortable when she refers so formally.

Jumin Han: Jaehee, I told you that you can call me Jumin now.

Jumin Han: Since you are no longer my assistant.

Jaehee Kang: Right,

Jaehee Kang: My apologies- it is quite the adjustment after almost three years…

Jumin Han: I understand, but to answer your question, it went…

Jumin Han: Not the best.

At that, Zen decides to contribute to the chat, to which Yoosung quickly follows.

ZEN: ????

ZEN: What happened dude

Yoosung★: Yeah, your dad’s a pretty nice guy! What’d you do? Lolol

Thankfully, as Jumin rides in the car, Driver Kim doesn’t talk to him. Having been Jumin’s chauffeur for as long as he can remember, the man can easily sense when Jumin is or isn’t in the mood to chat. So, he plays calming classical music and puts up the privacy window between the front and back seats.

Jumin Han: I didn’t do anything,

Jumin Han: He, however, is insistent that I prioritize ‘love’.

707 has entered the chatroom.

Saeran has entered the chatroom.

Jumin’s frown turns into a smile upon seeing Seven and his twin brother’s names on his screen. Years ago, after you suddenly joined the organization, Rika’s ‘Mint Eye’ was exposed. Seven went on an insane man hunt to find his brother and, with Jumin’s help, took the organization down and got Rika hospitalized. V died during the raid and Jumin doesn’t think he’ll ever ‘get over it’ like the rest of his friends think he has, but he’s managed to adjust somewhat well to this ‘new normal’.

Or, as well as he can adjust considering that he’s been left in charge of the RFA and no longer has a reliable chief assistant. He tried to get you to work for him, but sadly, you were determined to help Jaehee with her coffee shop. So, he’s busier than ever with work, constantly being hounded by his father about his lack of a girlfriend, and grieving his best friends.

Life is… Stressful, to say the least. As much as he hated them before, Seven’s jokes have been a comfort to him the last few years, so Jumin logs in at the times that Seven is normally there. The man has started working as the head of C&R’s security division since leaving the agency he previously worked for, so Jumin has become quite fond of him as a friend- and as an asset to his business- despite his peculiar sense of humor.

707: Whoot whoot~

707: Who’s this guy!?!?

ZEN: lol Seven, did you read what Jumin said?

707: ya

707: and I agree with daddy dearest

707: what’s wrong with a little love in your life Juju? Lol sounds like you need it

Saeran: His love life isn’t any of our business��

ZEN: I actually have to agree with Seven for once… A girlfriend wouldn’t kill you, Jumin. God knows you could stand to loosen up a bit

Yoosung★: Yeah Jumin, I don’t get why you’re single still when you could have anyone you want!

Jaehee Kang: You all have to understand that Chairman Han has always had a rather turbulent love life.

Jaehee Kang: Following his advice in regards to love… It’s never wise. Perhaps it’s best that Jumin stay single.

Saeran: I mean it’s fine if he stays single because he wants to, but he shouldn’t do that just because his dad’s type happens to be gold diggers…

707: where’s (y/n)? They might have some good insight!

Jaehee Kang: Unfortunately, (y/n) is busy covering for me while I’m on my break. I should actually get back so they’re not alone at the counter for too long.

Jaehee Kang has left the chatroom.

Jumin Han: I’m single because there is no one that I want. That is all there is to it.

707: damn lol you must be picky !!

Saeran: Harsh.

Jumin Han: And I don’t believe it is my father’s business to try and force women onto me… Especially after everything that has happened with my mother- his first wife- and especially considering his terrible taste in women…

ZEN: Is it really that bad?

Jumin Han: He’s been divorced four times.

Jumin Han: The fifth divorce is currently being deliberated in court.

Jumin Han: So, you tell me if it’s ‘really that bad’.

ZEN: Damn dude, that’s brutal

Yoosung★: Wow, it sounds like your dad is having a hard time with relationships

Yoosung★: That’s so sad ): I feel bad for him

707: eh, I don’t lmao. I mean you’ve read about them right?? And every time mr. chairman has a new gf Jumin comes in here and complains about how terrible she is, and he’s always right

707: Jumin tries to warn his dad about the type of women he picks up

707: and his dad never listens!

Jumin Han: Exactly. I wish he would leave me alone about settling down… I still have plenty of time.

Saeran: Yeah, you do.

Saeran: You’re only in your twenties. And a relationship doesn’t guarantee happiness… you can stay single and live just fine.

707: I’ve been seeing looooooots and lots of articles about you lately, Mr. Trustfund Kid

707: ‘Does Jumin Han is gay?’ rephrased in a gazillion different ways for headlines lmao

Jumin Han: Don’t even get me started.

ZEN: Oh, yeah, I’ve been seeing em too

ZEN: people think you’re gay because you don’t have a girlfriend or anything lol

ZEN: Kind of a reach tbh

Yoosung★: Wow, really? I hadn’t heard that people were posting stuff like that online

Saeran: You haven’t seen any of the tweets? none of the clips from the news? none of the youtube vids with weird photoshops of Jumin and Zen making out and Jaehee being jealous in the bg even though she’s the only one in the group that’s actually gay?

Saeran: It’s been the main cover story of every news station for like two weeks

Saeran: You really are a recluse yoosung

Yoosung★: :p Saeran you wanna hop on a stream with me?

Saeran: Sure ((:

Yoosung★ has left the chatroom.

Saeran has left the chatroom.

ZEN: Can’t believe those two just left like that in the middle of such a serious conversation…

707: anyway, mista trustfund

707: I bet those articles are just making your dad nervous

707: though rather that’s for publicity reasons or because he himself is nervous about you being gay…

Jumin Han: My father may have poor judgment, but he isn’t homophobic.

Jumin Han: He doesn’t even care about me having children. He mainly wants me to settle down because he believes it’ll make me ‘happier’.

Jumin Han: He has grown especially concerned about me becoming lonely after Rika’s hospitalization and V’s passing…

ZEN: Can’t you just tell him you have a girlfriend? If you think it’ll ease his nerves a little bit

ZEN: You could even tell him that you broke up because she cheated on you or something- then he’ll feel bad and stop talking about it for a while!

ZEN: Get creative

Jumin Han: Ah, yes, get creative with lying to my own father who only has my best interest in mind.

707: it’s not like you’d be lying to be malicious

707: just to ease his stress! Think of it as getting creative with appeasing your father’s concerns about his lonely son

707: it’s really not that bad of an idea, but there is one issue

707: What about when he wants to meet Jumin’s “girlfriend”? Then he’s screwed

ZEN: He has enough money that he could hire a thousand girlfriends

ZEN: Hiring one shouldn’t be that much of a challenge

Jumin Han: Until she goes to the media, tells them about my hiring of her, and gets a massive paycheck in return for ruining my family’s reputation.

Jumin Han: We’re already dealing with plenty of issues following my father’s most recent divorce- the last thing we need right now is another blow to C&R’s public image.

ZEN: Oh… Yeah

ZEN: Good point

ZEN: Rich people problems smh

707: So what you guys are saying is that it just has to be someone he knows who he can trust not to tell any news outlets!

ZEN: I mean, I guess? But literally the only two women that he knows are…

Jumin Han: Jaehee and (y/n), yes… And asking either of them for this monumental favor feels disrespectful to their relationship.

707: Yeah… nvm

707: Well, actually

Jumin Han: What is it?

707: You know how I cosplay?

ZEN: Oh, god, I get where you’re going with this

ZEN: Gonna save myself the embarrassment and leave. I’ll be sure to drop a selfie to purify the chatroom later lol, bye guys

ZEN has left the chatroom.

Jumin Han: I… Don’t understand

707: I could just pretend to be your girlfriend!

At that, Jumin blinks and rubs his eyes, then looks at the screen again to make sure he’s reading Seven’s words correctly. Seven… Pretending to be his girlfriend.

Out of all of the ideas they came up with… It is, unfortunately, the best one to dissuade Jumin’s father.

707: it’s perfect : D and I’ll be so annoying that he’ll pray you never date again because you have such terrible taste in women

707: We’re friends, you know I won’t betray you by selling you out to anyone who might want to know about this, AND believe it or not, I’m a VERY convincing woman

707: 707, the Defender of Justice, coming through once again!

Jumin Han: Something is telling me that this seems like a terrible idea.

Jumin Han: But… I can’t think of any logical reason why it wouldn’t work.

Jumin Han: Why don’t I reach out to my father and arrange a dinner?

707: Sure!

707: Just lmk my bae character : D

707 has left the chatroom.

Jumin Han has left the chatroom.

Right as Jumin logs out, Driver Kim pulls up to the penthouse. Jumin exits the car and enters through the gates as a sigh falls from between his lips.

Hopefully Seven’s plan works…

Jumin walks into his penthouse, sits down on the lush white carpet, and smiles with relief when Elizabeth 3rd crawls into his lap. She lies down, purring as Jumin dials his father’s phone.

“Father? I wanted to apologize for how I talked to you at our lunch today… Yes, I’d like to make it up to you. I was afraid to introduce the two of you, but I met someone recently. How would you feel about attending dinner with us next week?”

“That sounds wonderful, son.”

And so, a week later, Jumin is walking into the fanciest fine dining restaurant in Seoul with Seven on his arm. After sorting out some minor details- from Seven’s disguise (a classy and feminine look) to how Seven would act (like himself) to what name he would use (his true name, Saeyoung, because it’s considered feminine)- they managed to arrange a time and date. They are quickly led by the maître d' to their private table, where Juyoung is already waiting for them.

“Wow,” A knowing sort of look crosses Chairman Han’s face the moment he lays eyes on Seven. For a moment, Jumin panics. His father has seen Seven in passing multiple times at the RFA parties and at C&R. How stupid he was to think a disguise like this could fool him… But then, right as Jumin is about to burst into an awkward apology for even thinking of doing this, Chairman Han’s expression changes to one of delight- and Jumin starts to think that he must’ve imagined that other one. “Jumin, what a beautiful young lady you’ve found.”

“Why, thank you, sir! You’re Chairman Han, aren’t you?” Seven sits at the table, directly across from Juyoung. He holds his hand out for the chairman to shake- and, just then, Jumin notices how Seven is dressed; delicate, dainty pale hands with his fingernails painted ruby red, mascara and eyeliner adorning his amber eyes, a light blush dusted across his soft cheekbones, and a beautiful green dress adorning his narrow-set shoulders and curvy hips. His glasses are abandoned in favor of a pair of contacts, and his short mane of bright red hair is covered with a straightened auburn wig. The long hair goes down to the middle of his back, and there’s straight-cut bangs in the front that cover his forehead. “You’re very handsome. I can see where my Jumin gets his good looks from. You know, you look way better in person than you do in the pictures Jumin takes!”

The greeting makes Jumin’s ears ring- both because of the backhanded insult about his poor photography skills and because of the ridiculously high-pitched voice that Seven chooses to communicate with. Oddly enough, though, it makes for a convincing woman, so Jumin just grits his teeth and accepts it as he waits for his father’s reaction.

“Ah, that’s true, isn’t it? We’re lucky my son didn’t decide to pursue photography,” Chairman Han holds his hand out and shakes Seven’s before pressing a kiss against the hacker’s knuckles.

Jumin lets out a sigh of relief.

“Well, honey?” Seven turns to Jumin with a shiteating grin, sounding sickeningly sweet. It’s clear that he’s enjoying this. Jumin wonders if he shouldn’t have agreed to trick his father… Perhaps Seven’s behavior is going to be his karma. “Why don’t you come sit down with us?”

“Yes, Jumin, don’t look so uptight,” His father agrees. “Treat this like any other get-together we’d have. Saeyoung is part of the family now.”

Jumin sits down, biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from scolding Seven. Of course- of course- the man would enjoy messing with him, even in this context. Jumin sits next to Seven and damn near jumps out of his skin when one of Seven’s hands is creeping over to hold his underneath the table. He allows Seven to unfold his tightly clasped fist and lock their fingers together, resting their intertwined hands on top of Jumin’s thigh. From across the small table, Chairman Han reaches forward to ruffle Jumin’s hair.

Meanwhile, Seven is still sitting there with a shiteating grin on his face, clearly getting some sort of sick pleasure from watching Jumin writhe.

Jumin rolls his eyes. In hindsight, he should’ve expected it to play out this way.

Seven never does favors for free, after all.

The dinner goes worse than Jumin imagined, but better than he expected. Seven and his father chat for the entire meal while practically ignoring Jumin, which he supposes he’s glad for. Not having to contribute to the conversation made the already exhausting ordeal much less mentally taxing.

Unfortunately, the plan did not seem to work. At least not entirely. His father believes he’s dating and will probably stop bothering him for now about getting a girlfriend. The caveat of that, however, is that Seven didn’t annoy the ever living hell out of the chairman like they expected. Rather- Jumin’s father seemed to be charmed by Seven’s peculiar sense of humor, and insisted that they get together again soon, possibly even without Jumin there.

Jumin sits in the passenger’s seat of Seven’s car, his face bright red and his hair still ruffled from his father’s affectionate gesture as Seven drives him home. While he pointed out that he could just call Driver Kim to take him home, Seven rebutted with the fact that his father might find it odd if they left in separate vehicles.

“I gotta say, I did a great job!” Seven grins as if this whole situation isn’t bizarre. He reeks of expensive floral perfume that he doesn’t normally wear- or maybe he does? This arrangement is making Jumin notice all sort of things he didn’t bother to pay attention to before, from the jasmine wafting off of Seven’s neck and hair, to the gorgeous hue of amber that colors his eyes, to the many small scars on his hands and arms that are barely covered up by concealer, to a crooked tooth he has, to his chapped lips that are painted dark red to match his wig. Jumin realizes he’s staring far too intently and leaning in far too close when Seven turns to look at him and almost bumps his nose against his nose. Jumin jerks away and sits his back against the car seat. “Don’t ‘cha think?”

“Yes,” Jumin answers, staring straight ahead to avoid Seven’s prying eyes. “You were… Quite convincing. I doubt my father will be bothering me about my love life for a while.”

“Yeah, unless he starts pushing you to propose,” Seven turns to wink at Jumin and laughs- a laugh that Jumin thought was slightly annoying before, but now finds melodic. “Just to let you know, I’m more of a silver girl than a gold girl, so I’ll turn you down if you show up with a gold engagement ring!”

Jumin rolls his eyes, not even dignifying Seven’s joke with a response.

Still… He can’t help but look at Seven when the other man’s golden eyes are focused on the road.

Jumin has never thought of Seven as date-able before- not because Seven is a man, but because he genuinely hasn’t tried to see Seven in that light. Now that he’s in a position where he and Seven are ‘dating’, he can’t help but overthink it and become flustered… Or perhaps, this is what a crush feels like? He isn’t sure. Is it only because Seven was dressed as a woman? Is it worth wasting the time to think about?

He’s never had any time to think about his love life in general. At first, he was too young- then, he was focused on school- then, it was V and Rika, and the RFA, and Mint Eye. It’s been so many years now and while things have finally settled down… He’s just… Never bothered. Between work and making sure Elizabeth 3rd’s needs are met, he’s never had a lot of spare time.

Romance isn’t a necessity, anyway. At least not to Jumin. No, to Jumin, romance has always been impractical- and in the business world, there’s never been much room for impracticality. While not necessarily intentional, he realizes that he’s avoided relationships to avoid becoming like his father even after everything. Juyoung is a good man, and Jumin can handle embarrassment well, but more than anything, he’s terrified of experiencing what heartbreak is like after having seen it so many times throughout his life.

Women, women, women. Jumin’s father wasn’t the worst parent, but he wasn’t the best, either- all because of this vice of his. Jumin hated most of the women his father brought around, but as he grew older, he realized that most women aren’t like that, and that his father is just horrible at choosing which ones to court. Most women, like most men, are kind and have good intentions. They can be good friends, like you and Jaehee, but even having met the two of you and so many other wonderful women over the years, he’s never found himself taken over by butterflies in his stomach or plagued with a heart that skips beats because of one.

Men haven’t caught his attention, either. Him and V were close for so many years and nothing happened between them that was even remotely romantic. Jumin has never put too much thought into it- gay, straight, bi, pan, ace- what does it matter as long as he’s content? People waste too much time trying to decide on labels for something as fluid as sexuality. Or, that’s what Jumin thinks. He isn’t one for labels.

Then again, perhaps he just doesn’t want to consider the possibility of falling in love… Or even developing a crush. Something so inconvenient; the constant thinking about them, the potential of ruining the relationship, his father’s opinions, the media, his company, his money. There’s not many people he could let his guard down around, even if he wanted to, in order to date. Jumin is self aware enough to realize that he’s just personable enough to be a successful businessman, but not personable enough to attract most people to him for a personal relationship. Most of the ones who would express interest would surely only be after him for his riches and status- the same goes for friends, too.

Well, maybe not all of his friends, especially in the RFA. Seven, whose golden gaze stays focused on the road as he drives this gaudy neon green sports car, has hardly ever inquired about Jumin’s money. In fact, the man has so many sports cars and such an expensive house that Jumin suspects he must have made enough to live the rest of his life in luxury back when he worked at the agency. Even if Seven were poor, though… Jumin has learned how to tell when someone plans on taking advantage of him.

Seven isn’t someone who would take advantage of anyone, especially these days. At least not in any way that’s really harmful. Seven, even with his weird humor and awkward personality, is a good person… A good person that Jumin considers a friend.

It suddenly clicks. This burning, sickeningly fuzzy feeling in his belly that he’s had since they went to see his father- the way his heart is beating unusually hard and fast within his chest- the way he can’t stop staring at Seven- this must be it. The romance that everyone has always talked to him about. The crushes that he’s read about in the books. The falling in love that Zen portrays in his stupid plays.

“Ha, Jumin, why do you look so embarrassed all of a sudden?” Seven asks, fiddling with the GPS screen on the dashboard of the car. It shows that they still have a half hour left until they’re going to reach Jumin’s penthouse. “I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen you blush! So cute!”

“Take that wig off,” Jumin orders, desperately trying to hide his flushed face by turning to look out the window.

Seven acquiesces with a shrug and removes the long-haired wig as well as the cap he had on underneath to hide his natural hair. Both are haphazardly tossed into the back seat of the vehicle, which is already loaded with empty Honey Buddha chip bags and PHD Pepper cans.

Seven runs his long, skinny fingers through his hair and grabs some makeup wipes from the glovebox to take his makeup off when they reach a stoplight. Somehow, that makes Jumin’s face heat up even more. When did Seven become this attractive? Has he always been this beautiful? Why didn’t Jumin notice before?

Clearly, he is not feeling this way exclusively because Seven was dressed like a woman…

Shit.

“Um, dude, are you good? You’re seriously red! Like, as red as my hair,” Seven points out and switches to driving with one hand so he can use the other to reach over and feel Jumin’s forehead. “Did you get food poisoning or something? Or have you been around someone who’s sick lately?”

“No, nothing of the sort,” Jumin quickly answers and slaps Seven’s hand away. “I’ve heard the air quality is supposed to be poor this week. It’s my fault for not wearing a mask when we went out today. I’ve always been sensitive to that sort of thing.”

“Ah, I see! Let’s get you home to your fancy penthouse then! I’m sure you have the nicest air in South Korea circulating through there.”

Jumin rolls his eyes for what must be the millionth time that night, leaning his head against the window and allowing his eyes to fall shut.

What the hell did he get himself into…?

Weeks pass, and for a while, nothing happens. Seven doesn’t talk about the dinner, Jumin doesn’t talk about the dinner, and Jumin’s father is busy with his impending divorce. So, it’s easy for Jumin to forget most of what happened- except for the most important part; the realization that he has feelings for Seven.

He supposes he doesn’t mind. As terrified as he was of falling in love before, simply having a crush on someone is… Nice. Exciting. The butterflies in his stomach when Seven comes into the chatroom, the warmth that floods his body when Seven sends a selfie, the adrenaline that has him nearly tripping over nothing when he sees the other man at work. They’re all new and exhilarating. Jumin would never admit it to anyone else, but he now understands why his father is addicted to the rush of falling in and out of love over and over again.

The thing is, though, Jumin doesn’t want to fall in love with anyone else.

He wants Seven to fall in love with him, and for them to be in love with each other for the foreseeable future. Unfortunately, though, other people are complicated. At first, Jumin concocts ways to woo the other man; expensive gifts, romantic dinners, a heartfelt confession- perhaps even (supervised) time with Elizabeth 3rd. Then, something else clicks.

What if Seven already has feelings for him?

That would make things easier, wouldn’t it?

At first, he thought it unlikely. What are the chances?

But then, he remembers that Seven is a complicated man with complicated feelings. He either loves Jumin back or he doesn’t, but whichever it is, he will never tell- because even after so many years, Seven is still a man who wears a shield made of secrets to keep from being vulnerable.

Jumin never cared before, as it didn’t affect their relationship. Now, though, he’s determined to somehow tear down that shield and expose the truth. And if Seven doesn’t reciprocate, he will continue to be a good friend to him, and learn to move on.

Unsure of what else to do, Jumin arranges another dinner. He calls his father and tells him that they should all meet up for a meal again since his ‘girlfriend’ was so fond of him after the last time.

Then, he calls Seven and tells him that his father ‘insisted’ they meet up again. Seven agrees and meets Jumin at his penthouse so Driver Kim can transport them to the nearest bistro.

The plan seems to be coming together brilliantly. Before, V would’ve advised him against this and encouraged him to be honest- to tell Seven that he’s fallen for him and that he would love for him to come to another family dinner- ironic. Jumin finds the lie to be harmless, though.

The two arrive to the restaurant, Seven with his arm linked to Jumin’s once more. Jumin is dressed in a button-up shirt, slacks, and dress shoes. Seven is in a more casual outfit than last time; green pumps, a black skirt, and a green and blue floral shirt. His nails are painted green and his long auburn wig is tied back into a low braid that shows off his soft jawline.

Tonight, Jumin shamelessly stares. It seems Seven is too oblivious to notice anyway as he greets Juyoung and pulls Jumin to sit across from him. Jumin pulls Seven’s chair out, and the two sit down together.

Jumin smiles as he listens to Seven and his father exchanging pleasantries. Everything is going great- at least until Jumin’s father says-

“I was surprised when my son told me he wanted to get together like this! I was afraid I’d embarrassed him last time,” Chairman Han exclaims with a bright, brilliant smile. He obviously has no idea that Jumin intended for Seven to think it was him who initiated the get together, rather than Jumin. Jumin’s stomach drops. “I’m glad that’s not the case.”

“Oh, he arranged this, hm?” Seven says. Instead of becoming angry- which Jumin expects, considering he had the poor man dress up and come here with an hour’s notice- Seven gives him the smuggest grin he can manage before reaching over and placing a hand on Jumin’s arm. Jumin’s sleeves are rolled up, so Seven’s warm touch feels like fire burning against his skin. “That’s so nice of you, Jumin. You’re such a good son! It must be hard to maintain time for your personal relationships with how much you work, but you always find a way!”

And, to Jumin’s embarrassment, Juyoung beams.

“He certainly does.”

The two men start to chat once again with Jumin dying in the background.

Now, he almost wishes V were here to talk him out of this…

For the rest of the meal, Juyoung and Seven talk as if nothing is wrong. Every once in a while, though, when his father is distracted, Jumin catches Seven glancing over at him with a look he can’t quite read. Said look stays on the hacker’s face, even when they eventually excuse themselves and get in the back of Driver Kim’s car.

They sit as far away from each other as possible as Driver Kim types the address for Seven’s home into his GPS and heads that way.

“So…”

Seven starts, awkward, only to pause and pull his makeup painted lips tight together. Seven opens his mouth again, as if he’s about to say something else. Jumin is relieved that Seven is going to address the situation first, as he personally has no idea what to say… But then, a minute passes. And then another. And another.

Slower than both of them would’ve liked, Jumin realizes that Seven is just as humiliated as he is- as well as at a loss for words. The redhead takes his wig off, sets it on the seat that’s between the two of them, removes his diamond stud earrings and puts them in one of the empty cup holders, and leans forward to rest his head against the back of the passenger’s seat before letting out an exasperated groan.

“I…”

“If you wanted me to come to dinner again with you guys, you could’ve just said!” Seven finally exclaims, frustratedly running his hands through his hair. “You didn’t have to lie to me!”

“It’s not… I assumed it was a one time thing,” Jumin furrows his brow, confused and guilty. Seven is flustered, but he doesn’t seem angry… Is there a possibility that he actually wants to be doing this with Jumin? Why? “You truly don’t mind?”

“Huh? Well, no, not really!” Much to Jumin’s surprise, Seven crosses his arms over his chest and looks away, refusing to meet Jumin’s eyes. He’s getting defensive…? “Your dad’s a nice enough guy.”

Jumin sighs and shakes his head. Perhaps going and trying to be clever to figure out Seven’s feelings was foolish… Perhaps he should have been more direct.

“I didn’t want you to come to dinner so you could mingle with my father, Saeyoung.”

Seven blinks at the use of his real name. Even since he told everyone his name, no one refers to Seven by it- after all, they knew him as ‘Seven’ and ‘Luciel’ for so many years. But, in situations like this, it’s enough to catch Seven’s attention. He quickly uncrosses his arms and stares at Jumin with a questioning look.

“Then what is it? Is there a business deal or something? Or is he wanting us to get engaged? Is it serious? Because I can fake an amazing surprise proposal with you and-”

“Saeyoung,” Jumin interjects and reaches out to hold Seven’s hand within his own. Seven jumps back as if Jumin is poisonous despite having had his hands all over Jumin in the most obnoxious way possible during both dinners with his father. “Why did you decide to do this?”

“To help you,” Seven answers, though he avoids Jumin’s eyes again. The man is usually incredibly direct and has no issue looking Jumin in the eye, so he finds Seven’s sudden avoidance of eye contact to be a sign that he must be lying- or at least hiding something. “You were having a hard time, and you’re my friend, so…”

“You could’ve done anything else,” Jumin insists. Briefly, he registers that Driver Kim is in the front seat listening to this, but he doesn’t care enough to halt the conversation. “Hired someone for me that you thought was reputable enough not to sell me out, made up some crazy scandal about C&R and put it out there to distract my father- hell, you could’ve ignored it entirely, because my father frequently worries about my love life when his has gone to shit.”

“So? The cross dressing was just the first thing that came to mind! Why does it matter?” Seven becomes increasingly defensive, now crossing one leg over the other, crossing his arms again, and turning his head to stare out the window with a pouty huff. “Can’t I just be doing it to help a friend?”

“You never do anything as complicated as this without some sort of ulterior motive.”

“What, like I’m getting anything out of this? I didn’t even ask you to pay me!”

“I didn’t mean-” Jumin shakes his head, and then sighs. “Never mind.”

“Look, if you don’t want to-”

Suddenly, as they pull up to Seven’s house, Jumin’s phone buzzes. He checks it to see that his father has requested for them to get together again.

“My father just sent me a text asking if we could meet him for breakfast tomorrow,” He interjects.

“Did he? Or are you making that up so I’ll go with you guys again?” Seven snarkily asks, to which Jumin huffs and shoves his phone in Seven’s face. Upon reading the text, Seven’s face turns so red that Jumin can differentiate his natural blush from the light pink makeup splattered across his cheekbones. “Oh, okay. Well, um, sure. I’ll see you guys there.”

Then, Seven rushes out of the car, leaving Jumin there to dread the disaster that is going to be tomorrow’s breakfast.

“Saeyoung, it’s wonderful to see you again.”

Jumin feels a little piece of him die inside as he sits with Seven and his father for the third time within the span of a month. Again, the two of them chat amongst each other, pretty much ignoring him. Seven is in a blouse, skinny jeans, and clunky boots, as the chairman insisted that Seven pick his favorite breakfast restaurant- which just so happens to be a casual diner.

While Jumin is incredibly uncomfortable in the unfamiliar setting, his father, who looks completely out of place in his two piece suit, doesn’t seem to mind and (embarrassingly enough) keeps hitting on one of the older waitresses who (thankfully) flirts back with him every time she comes to check on their table.

When the waitress brings them their food, Jumin’s father slides her his cell phone number, written on a napkin. Jumin doesn’t miss how her eyes flicker to the man’s fancy suit and golden watch, but apparently, Juyoung does.

“Father, is now a good time to initiate dating again?” Jumin questions as Seven- weirdly enough- reaches over and starts cutting up his crepes for him. “Your divorce hasn’t even been finalized in court yet.”

“Well, son, you have to remember that I don’t have as much time left as you do,” The chairman shrugs, then starts to eat, but not before pointing at Seven with his fork and saying- “I’ve gotta hurry up and find myself a pretty, doting girl like you’ve got!”

“I’m sure you’ll find someone,” Seven interjects before Jumin can say something that gets them arguing about their perspective on ‘love’ once again. For that, Jumin is thankful. “Sometimes, love comes when you don’t expect it to!”

And, without so much as a warning, Seven turns to face Jumin and gently places a hand on the side of his face. Jumin’s breath catches in his throat as Seven leans forward and kisses him on the lips.

Jumin’s heart drops to his stomach in the best way possible.

He’s breathless.

But before he can kiss back, Seven pulls away and begins to eat his plate of pancakes and bacon- as if nothing happened.

Jumin’s father merely grins, both at Seven’s words and at his public display of affection.

“Yes, that’s true, isn’t it? Love always comes when you least expect it.”

Jumin misses the feeling of Seven’s lips on his lips, but doesn’t dare ask for another kiss while his father is still present. Instead, he shoots Seven the occasional confused glance, all of which are completely ignored. Jumin buries his face in his hands as his father and ‘girlfriend’ finish their meals.

Shortly after, Seven grabs him by the hand and pretty much drags him out of the diner.

“You kissed me,” Jumin weakly mutters as they get into Driver Kim’s car.

“Yeah, and?” Seven snarks as he puts his seatbelt on. Jumin follows, his entire body still hot from the kiss. Part of him wonders if this is revenge for his trickery the night before. “What about it?”

Surprisingly enough, despite it being the second day in a row of this nonsense, Driver Kim continues to ignore them in favor of driving back to Seven’s home. Though, he does roll up the privacy window between the front and back seats, which Jumin is thankful for.

“You kissed me,” Jumin emphasizes through gritted teeth. On a normal morning, he would be able to keep his composure and brush this off, but today, he’s so close to losing it that his face burns red with the restraint it takes not to bite Seven’s head off. Somehow, Seven is even worse at communicating than he is. “Why did you kiss me?”

“To make it more convincing, duh,” Seven says with a shrug, as if it doesn’t even matter. His lackadaisical attitude makes Jumin’s blood boil. “It’d be pretty weird if we were dating but never kissed… Right?”

Jumin crosses his arms over his chest. He isn’t very experienced with love, but he’s not an idiot. Seven didn’t have to kiss him if he didn’t want to. So, the logical conclusion is that Seven must have wanted to kiss him.

“You could have asked permission beforehand.”

“Like your dad wouldn’t think that was weird if I asked to kiss my own ‘boyfriend’?”

“No, I meant that you could have asked for permission before we got to the restaurant, Saeyoung,” Jumin sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and pointer finger. His head starts to throb from the stress. “My God, you make my head hurt.”

“You’re overthinking it. So what? It was just a kiss. Never had one before?”

Jumin blushes. He thought the answer to such a question would be obvious. Apparently not.

“For your information, no, I haven’t.”

“I… Ah,” Seven appears embarrassed, uncrossing his arms and rushing to apologize with a guilty laugh. “Oh. My bad! I guess it does suck that I stole your first kiss! I mean, honestly, I had no idea-”

“That’s not the problem.”

“Then… What is it?”

“The problem,” Jumin leans over to caress Seven’s cheek with one hand, to make Seven look at him. He sees Seven’s mouth and neck move slightly when he swallows, tense, his golden gaze burning into Jumin. “Is that you kissing me in such a manner… Makes me desperately want to kiss you back.”

The car stops in front of Seven’s house. Driver Kim puts the car in park and unlocks the doors.

“...Oh,” Seven takes his seatbelt off as fast as humanly possible and opens the car door. “Looks like we’re home!”

“I-” Jumin cuts himself off, completely baffled. Did Seven just ignore what he said, or is that his way of trying to let Jumin down easy…? “What?”

“We’re back to my place! I gotta go, ‘kay? I’ve got some work to do-”

“You realize that you work for me, yes?” Jumin interjects and catches Seven’s wrist in his hand to keep him from leaving. “Exactly what work do you have to do?”

Seven can’t even muster up an answer. He looks at his front yard, at the ground, at the sky, and literally everywhere else that isn’t Jumin’s face. He stutters over his words, only to fall totally silent. It seems as if he’s given up on so much as trying to argue. Still, he doesn’t relent to Jumin either. Instead, he jerks away from Jumin’s grasp and starts heading to his front door.

What he doesn’t expect is for Jumin to get out of the car, shut the door, signal for Driver Kim to leave, and follow.

““Look, I just wanted to make it more convincing. I wasn’t thinking, and I did something stupid, and I kissed you. I’m sorry, okay? I’ll make it up to you somehow, but right now, I’m really embarrassed- so just go home,” Seven demands with a blush that spreads from the tips of his ears to his cheeks and down to his neck. He frantically struggles to unlock his door, even sticking the wrong key on the lock. Jumin sighs before reaching over and plucks the keys from Seven’s hands to unlock the door for him. Once the lock gives, he opens the front door. “What are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I asked!” Seven snatches his keys from the lock, throws them into a cat-shaped bowl that sits on a table by the front door, and rushes into the house. He tries to shut the door, but Jumin quickly interjects by sticking one of his long legs between the door and the jamb. Seven glares at him. “Why are you being so weird?”

“If you don’t return my feelings, Saeyoung, simply say so. I’ll respect it.”

“Feelings? Since when have you had feelings for me? Hell, why would someone like you have feelings for me?” Seven frantically rambles, walking into his living room. Jumin enters the house, closes the door, and follows close behind Seven. “And why are you calling me by my real name all of a sudden?”

“Saeyoung-”

“Look, I get it! I’m funny, I’m charming, and we’ve been doing this pretend dating stuff- and I kissed you! And it’s like I said; I am a very convincing woman! So, maybe you’re a little confused. Maybe you think you have a cute little crush on me,” Seven plops down onto the couch, taking off the rest of his accessories and makeup and kicking his shoes onto the floor. Jumin stands there aimlessly in the middle of the living room. Though he’s hardly had the chance to say anything, Seven just keeps on responding. “But you can’t call that ‘feelings’ like it’s something serious when you’ve never been in a relationship before, y’know? You’re Jumin Han, the future chairman of C&R- and I’m-”

“Wonderful. You… Are wonderful, Saeyoung. Maybe I didn’t communicate this well enough before, but you’re a good friend. I admire your sense of humor, and since we’ve been doing this ‘dating’ thing, I’ve come to love you even more,” Jumin sits down on the couch next to Seven and places a hand on one of his thighs. Seven freezes as Jumin looks him in the eye and continues. “And my feelings for you are serious. If you don’t return them, that’s fine, but don’t tell me how I feel. It isn’t fair.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Seven runs his hand over his hair as if trying to smooth it even though it already looks perfectly fine. A nervous habit, Jumin figures. “I mean, seriously, Jumin! What’s up with this all of a sudden? Did you decide you’re going to try and prank me or something? Y’know, it’s like Zen says, you really have a terrible sense of humor!”

“What? That’s utterly ridiculous- why would I try to prank you in such a cruel manner? Why can’t you just take my words at face value?”

“Because there’s no reason for you to feel that way,” Seven throws his hands up in frustration. “I mean, we’ve known each other for how long now? You have to be screwing with me, and you have to understand that it’s not cool to-”

“And you need to understand that I’m serious about you. I want you. I’m just sorry that it took me so long to realize that,” Jumin places his spare hand on the side of Seven’s face, and while Seven doesn’t pull away, he doesn’t lean into it, either.

“Jumin, you can’t-”

Before Seven can finish, Jumin cuts him off by leaning forward and pressing their lips together. Seven halts, but it seems like as soon as he realizes what’s happened, he’s melting. He places his scarred hands on the back of Jumin’s neck, threads his fingers through Jumin’s silky black locks, and kisses him hard and deep. The younger man tastes like makeup and cherries so strongly that the taste lingers on Jumin’s lips as he pulls away.

“I can,” Jumin finishes his earlier statement with a small smile as he rests his forehead against Seven’s. “And I do love you, Seven.”

“I… Love you too,” Seven responds, and then laughs. “So, does Jumin Han is gay?”

Jumin lets out a small chuckle and answers with-

“Mayhaps.”

Weeks later, Jumin finds himself sitting across from Juyoung in the other man’s office. Obviously, he and Saeyoung haven’t been getting together with his father for meals lately since they’re actually dating now and don’t feel the need to keep up their old ruse. Jumin knows full well that he needs to come clean before so much as thinking of bringing Saeyoung around again.

So, he’s called a ‘personal meeting’.

The two men are alone, directly across from each other. Though Jumin has already been there for a couple minutes, he doesn’t know where to start, so they’ve been almost completely silent.

“Father… I have to tell you something,” He finally starts, to which the chairman looks like he’s struggling to hold back a laugh.

“Is it about your ‘girlfriend’?”

Jumin blinks. And, at that, his father full on bursts into uncontrolled laughter.

“I’m sorry?”

“Look, son, I’m not going to make you go through this entire spiel with me. I knew all along that ‘she’ was your friend. You two didn’t even bother to give her a different name. I’m not stupid. I was just waiting to see how far you’d take it, honestly,” Chairman Han sighs, practically oozing secondhand embarrassment as he wipes tears from the corners of his eyes. “Is she transitioning or something?”

“What? No.”

“Then… Crossdressing?”

“Precisely.

“But are you two actually dating and just afraid of being openly gay, or was the whole thing a ruse to get me off your back about settling down?”

“At first, it was the latter, but we ended up dating because of it,” Jumin says.

“Huh,” His father simply shrugs and begins to organize the cluttered mess of paperwork that sits on his desk. He doesn’t so much as bat an eye at Jumin. “Well, then, it was rude of you not to bring him here to see me! That Saeyoung is a good kid.”

“Really? Your feelings aren’t hurt?”

“Oh, no. You’re young- sorting out your priorities can still be so hard at this age. I’m just happy that you’ve got it figured out,” Chairman Han smiles and offers a dismissive wave of his hand. “You’re the happiest I’ve seen you in a long time.”

At that, Jumin grins, thinking of Seven, who is at home with Elizabeth 3rd waiting for him.

“Yes… I suppose I am, Father.”

#drabble #drabbles #mystic messenger #mysmes #mystic messenger jumin #mysmes jumin #mystic messenger 707 #mystic messenger seven #mysmes 707 #mysmes seven #juseven #juciel #jumin han #luciel choi #saeyoung choi #707

9 notes · View notes

stevenbasic · 2 years

Text

GITJ Post 297: Painting His Apartment, p3

I felt every inch of my nudity now, naked and exposed.

My legs had failed, yes, through my climax in her hand. Their strength was now slowly returning, but my new Office Manager and even more newly-appointed girlfriend Melissa Monroe still held me up. It was the casual strength of her left arm down across my chest that supported me as we gazed at the spectacle of ourselves in the mirror. My massively outsized cock was deflating in her right fist as she towered over me from behind, now resting her chin atop my head and smiling with a grin that was huge and satisfied. She had just made clear to me how excited she was to have a new man in her life that could make her feel so big and huge and strong. The television was still broadcasting the enormous rallies of women across the country who likewise were striving to gain the same thing.

”you w-want to feel big?” I asked, as my eyelids fluttered under the attention of her obliging right hand, which still gently squeezed and massaged my spent, sagging member, floppy and goopy with my own come. It felt nice, indulgently warm.

My query brought her smile a new sparkle, and she answered me with honesty after a moment of thought. “Every time, Jay, that I walk in front of a mirror these days, or watch myself as I step out of the shower,” she began, “I can see, little by little, how my body is changing. Expanding. Getting taller.” She watched my face, how I listened to her with rapt attention. The concept of her growing, the experience of every day her waking up as a larger and larger woman was exciting not only to her but obviously to me as well, and she enjoyed how enthralled I appeared. “Every time I step on a scale I’m heavier,” she continued, “Every day I’m putting on more mass, more weight.” At that she paused and regarded me with a new tenderness. “And with each pound I gain, I always say to myself, ‘It´s for him…’”

That came as a surprise. “F-f-for me?”

“Yes, for you,” she smiled.

“B-but…why?” I asked, half in disbelief again that I had the attentions of such an incredible, beautiful woman. My fantasy girl, in so many ways. What was I but a middle-aged schlub, destitute and failed, sickly and small? A physician still, yes, her employer and erstwhile boss. Maybe my education and accomplishments were attractive to her, a simple girl of little sophistication. But I was older than her by more than a decade, ruined by divorce, and had seemingly so little to realistically offer.

“‘Why?’” she repeated, “Why do I want to keep growing through clothes and busting through bras and - haha ripping through jeans? It’s so I can be more for you, Jay. It’s so I can take better care of you, protect you.” Still she gently massaged my softened member in her hand, all squishy, comfortingly. “And, besides…it just makes me feel sexy,” she giggled, “because I know you like big boobs.”

At that I flushed, in chagrin, caught dead to rights. ”Jesus, Melissa, you are sexy, you’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, already…”

”mmmm thank you…” she purred, her eyes flashing into mine in the mirror, contented, “go on…”

In my post-orgasmic bliss I didn’t need any encouragement to continue singing her praises. “…a-and this w-weight you’ve, uh, put on…the height you’ve g-gained…”

“Yes?” she urged, lowering her head, now, leaning in a bit more on my left so our faces were right besides one another in the mirror - hers larger than mine, jaw strong, cheekbones perfect and eyes bright.

“…it’s all…it’s all,” I struggled, fighting my hardest not to sound the sniveling simp but failing miserably, “…it’s all so amazing.” I felt her big warm breasts pressing into my back.

“You think big is sexy, do you?” she asked, eagerly curious, “Big women? Amazons?”

“oh g-god yes,” I admitted, all caution apparently gone.

My confession made her smile grow, to that of a jungle cat’s, feral. “Well, if big girls turn you on then I, little man…” she purred, still staring me straight in the eye, still casually playing with the wet, flaccid smushiness of my spent member in her right hand, “…I want to be the biggest.”

I groaned, despite myself, and felt myself somehow starting to waken, in her hand. Maybe it was what she was insinuating, or maybe it was her tits or her pretty face or her perfume, but - though my legs still felt weak and unsteady - my cock was coming back to life.

“Oooo, you think I should do that?” she laughed, obviously feeling a pulse of my new vigor in her hand, and hearing it in my throat, “You think I should go to the gym more, eat healthy, eat lots, get nice and big and strong for you?”

“oh, god, Melissa,” I moaned, eyes fluttering again and leaning back into her strength. I was so far past gone I didn’t even realize what I said next until it was too late. “Is it…is it just that you want to feel big..?” I stammered, now unable to keep her gaze and letting my eyelids droop, “or…d-do you like seeing me be small?” It was like all my submissiveness was pouring forth, the floodgates opening.

“Oh, honey, yessss…” she growled, her eyes flashing again into mine in the mirror, her mouth dropping open in thrill. With that, she delicately peeled her palm away from my now-spongy cock, taking with it a handful of my thick jism. In one smooth motion she slowly wiped it across my belly and lower chest, frosting me with sticky glaze, and showed me her hand. It still shone with wetness.

“oh god, Melissa…” I sighed. I knew - I fucking knew - how pathological the deviant psychology of this moment was. I tried to wrestle with it, resist, exert myself…but it was also just so fucking hot, sinking into this meek, obsequious role.

“Here, do this," she chirped with a new smile, holding her hand up with all five fingers extended, as if to indicate the number "5", “It’ll be fun…”

Compliantly, I mirrored the gesture, and she placed her hand against mine, sticky. My eyes widened at the revelation that my hand was roughly a full digit’s joint smaller, in terms of extended size, than hers.

"Now, you've got really nice hands," she continued, "smooth, soft...and small." She smiled, coyly and innocently, looking down at the size comparison, her hand being so much bigger, and then into the mirror, to watch my own reaction.”Haha, I bet that makes you feel pretty small, huh sweetie? Seeing my hand look like it’s gonna absolutely swallow yours?”

At the word “swallow,” Melissa had curled her fingers down over the top of my fingertips, wrapping her long fingers around mine, emphasizing even more obviously our size difference; it actually did look like her big hand was about to “swallow” mine. And worst of all, my reaction to all of this was to feel even more aroused. Why was I getting turned-on by this craziness!? What was sexy about Melissa dwarfing me?? Despite the ignominy, I answered her.

“y-yes…” I replied, “I…I feel small.” I looked up to see her staring intently into my eyes in the mirror, still holding my hand, threatening to fully engulf it in hers as the two stuck together with the crust of my climax.

She cocked her head, watching me, and then gently released my hand. “Here, turn around,” she said, using her hands now to move me by the shoulders, spin me until I faced her.

I wobbled a bit, my legs now on their own in supporting my weight now that she was no longer holding me up with her left hand. But they found purchase, and I found myself staring into her chest, mere inches from her formidable bosom in her big black bra. Jesus christ her tits were enormous, filling my vision.

“Y’know what else would make you feel pretty small..?” she next offered from above as she stood up straighter in front of me, once again absolutely dwarfing me, my head now barely at the level of her breasts. I needed to lean back for fear of being knocked over, and I watched as she put her muscular arms out to the side above me and continued: “...This.”

At that, she clenched both her hands into fists, curled her arms and flexed, producing two solid, round biceps that I could not believe were that of a female, let alone my Office Manager and new girlfriend. “I’ve been working out a lot, for years, and more since I first met you,” she said, flexing again and watching as my line of vision had moved from her tits to her arms, right, then left, my mouth gaping in awed admiration, “And I’m pretty proud of the results so far. What do you think?”

My jaw trembled, and I watched as she continued to flex, to pump her arms up even larger, smiling proudly as she swelled up with the efforts of her hard work. It was ture, watching this woman demonstrate her strength and size above me like this was making me feel absolutely small and meager, bubbling with insecurity. “I…I don’t know what to s-say…” I finally admitted, piteously.

She smiled knowingly. "Not bad for a girl, huh?" she quipped, flexing once again, making her biceps dance and peak with muscular rhythm. “Here, give them a feel," she offered, standing straight and now posed in a perfect, double-biceps pose. Because of her distinct height advantage, her raised upper arm was above my eye-level and I needed to reach up to my right, raising my hands to place one on top and one below the swell of her muscle. Even with both hands I could not fully encircle the bronzed upper arm of this young, voluptuous beauty. Spellbound by her brawn, I squeezed, and then gulped audibly. She was soft, her skin smooth and warm, but below she was solid as oak, and her bicep didn't budge one bit to my effort. As I held on she lowered, then raised her forearm. flexing twice, and then laughed loudly at my amazed expression as my tightly gripped hands moved in sequence to her actions.

“You like that, hm?” Melissa chuckled, “You like my ‘gains’?”

“It’s incredible, Melissa,” I said, honest and earnest.

"Well, then, since we're on the subject of ‘gains’,” she beamed, as she lowered her arms and begin to turn around, presenting her huge, amazing rear to me, “how about checking out some more of my progress?"

“Whoah,” I couldn’t help but gasp, as her butt turned to meet me, halfway up my chest. Torn asunder as the seat of her jeans were, the glorious cheeks of her monumental ass cleaved by a black thong bloomed out from ripped, time-faded denim under the dramatic light.

She posed, like a professional figure model, lower back arched, shoulders back, presenting her rear for my inspection. I fought with all I had for self control to keep from grasping my hands onto her stupendousness and planting my face on her. I struggled with the urge…but then she invited me to do just that.

“My butt’s gotten so big. Can you help me, hun,” she asked, “to get these ripped up things off it? It needs a kiss…”

My heart leapt, and I let out the feeblest of little cries. She giggled, looking down over her right shoulder at me, seeing me absolutely overcome by the sight of her. Her waist, so narrow, and then the giant, muscular swell of her rear was a sight not meant for mortal eyes.

“Is that a yes?” she asked, with another giggle, and pushed her butt out another fraction of an inch towards me.

“Y-y-yes…yes, okay…” I managed, raising my hands now to take hold of the hem of her jeans on either side of her broad hips. I took a moment to marvel at the sight; she was wider across than me, possibly twofold. What would that feel like, on me? Me gripped to her, hanging on like a baby monkey to-

Shaking myself back to reality, I tugged down, tentatively, and immediately knew this was going to be a harder task than it sounded. I tugged some more, and then with all my strength. She giggled, because all I was doing was sending jiggles through her hips and flesh, cheeks bouncing up and down with my efforts.

“Do you need some help, sweetie?” she cooed, still looking over her shoulder and down at me, “Is it too much?”

I eyed her, and tugged again. “Yeah a little,” I admitted.

At that, her hands came behind her to join mine and, with a few giggles, wriggles and jiggles, together we were able to lower the jeans off her massive hips and begin to scooch the torn jeans down. Peeling them down her butt slowly, her big, vigorous glutes were grabbed lower by the tension and then *bounced* back upwards with seismic energy when the taut hem cleared their biggest swells.

“*Boop!*” she giggled, as her cheeks quaked mightily and caused me to gasp, her ass now free of confinement. Lord god in her black thong little was left to the imagination, each tan cheek presented proudly like it’s own small planet. She stooped, a bit, bending at the knees to allow the jeans down her thighs, to her knees. Pushing me back even further her butt was huge, wider by far than my entire body. If I’d thrown my arms around it I’d have little hope of encircling her hips.

“Making you feel small, sweetie?” she cooed, as she dropped her tattered jeans to her ankles, wriggling her hips at me.

“Jesus Melissa you’re big,” was all I could answer, marveling at the perfection of her round, majestically muscular ass, “so much bigger than me.”

She seemed to like that, and with a series of giggles off came her sneakers and socks, allowing her to kick the ruined pile of denim across the room. Next, she spun me around again so we were both facing the mirror, stepped next to me, her left side to my right, and put her left hand on my right shoulder.

"Do this," she chirped, and extended the toes of her left leg, stretching it out and planting her bare foot a pace or so in front of her. Following her lead I imitated the move with my right leg. This time, she actually seemed to embarrass herself with the volume of her laughter, a sudden snort. "I'm sorry baby, but jeez! Look at the difference." She was actually holding her hand to her mouth to stifle her nearly uncontrollable giggling. Smiling along as best I could, I actually had to agree that the comparison was almost comical. Out of shape, my lower limbs were thin, yes. But not terribly below average for a guy of my, uh, size. Five-two? Last I checked…But, anyway, compared to hers my leg looked like a children's stickball bat, almost a full foot shorter. By simply wiggling her toes, Melissa was able to generate a ripple of well-defined muscularity that put my own leg to shame. Her thigh was toned and tan, thick and long, smoothly perfect and obviously powerful. Mine, lightly hairy, was thin and pale and weak.

“What do you think?” she asked, beaming down at the comparative sizes of our legs and taking my right hand, suddenly, and laying it on her thigh. She glanced again at the sight of us in the mirror, her smile changing, and then back down to my small hand on her massive leg. I had to shake my head, disbelieving the size difference. “How’s it feel?”

It was, this huge expanse of female muscle, so smooth and warm of skin I actually shuddered. “P-pretty impressive,” I praised, appreciating the strength I could feel through the soft upper layer of her thigh, “you obviously put a lot of work in at the, uh, gym…”

“Yeah my legs get big quick,” she agreed, flexing her quadriceps for my benefit, making them ripple and pulse under my hand. She then playfully swung her hip into my direction, catching me in the middle of my rib cage as an unspoken reminder of her considerable size advantage.

Smiling down at me, our eyes meeting again in the mirror, Melissa made another non-verbal gesture of her physical superiority by placing her right palm on my head, then moving it horizontally in her direction until it stopped an inch or so from the top of her broad left shoulder. I smiled wanly at her and once more gazed at our reflections, side-by-side in the mirror on the back of my door.

“I mean, godddd, look at us,” Melissa marveled, a new excitement deepening her voice. She’d pulled her leg back in again, my hand falling back to my side. She stood there, proud and tall, in her black thong and matching bra, while I stood naked, emaciated and emasculated. I was struck again - and, I’m sure, so was she - by her blatant physical superiority over me. It set my heart quivering once more, and it was all I could do to keep from whining.

She took the moment, watching us in the mirror, to raise her arms and release her hair from its ponytail. Her huge mane of raven hair fell in great waves around her shoulders, making her seem even larger in the mirror and even bigger in comparison to me as she shook it out to full volume.

In an involuntary spasm of my own submissiveness, I had the sudden urge to give her what she wanted, to look even smaller, to emphasize and embellish even more the vast difference in our sizes. I gave in to the instinct and began to huddle myself, stoop, cave in my already thin shoulders, bend my neck, tuck in my chin.

“What…what are you doing?” Melissa asked, chuckling at first but then a husky arousal taking over her voice as she watched me seem to physically start to recede next to her in the mirror, “Are you…trying to look smaller?”

I decided I couldn’t say anything, and merely grunted a weak reply, huddling down even further, bending slightly at the knees. Jesus what was wrong with me?! This was pathological, but immediately I could tell it was working. Melissa’s pheromones began to fill the air again, and I felt her left arm reach around my shoulders. I shifted down, further, under her arm.

“Oh my GODDDD, Jay!” she groaned, wide eyed, putting her right hand over her mouth and stepping into my game, “You’re, like…you’re trying to be tiny!”

“I…uh…yeah…” I peeped, unsure of myself, inadvertently playing even further into this submissive role, “i-is that okay?”

“Yes yes yes please,” she urged, obviously excited, her voice dropping, and then adding: “do it some more.” She eyed me with new, aggressive eyes, and I could see her pick up her role in this little game…if it was really just a game, that is…and stand up demonstrably taller. “You’re getting so fucking small these days…” she breathed, nostrils flaring.

This shouldn’t…this shouldn’t have been a surprise to me. Women everywhere were getting into this “vulni” thing, looking for smaller, thinner, more submissive guys. It was the latest trend; why should I expect Melissa to be any different, right? I could…play along, right? But still, my male pride did have a bit of life left. “Hey, I- I mean, come on now,” I attempted, thinking I could maybe save some dignity with some ironic humor, “I’m not…not that small. Just smaller than I was...”

“Uh, compared to me, you are small,” Melissa insisted, her voice sounding dead serious, and not about to let me go. To prove her point, she again pulled me into her body, so that our sides were squished into each other, side by side. Naked as I was, she in her undies, there was ample flesh contact, and I shuddered as I felt the pure pleasure of her warm, smooth flesh pressing all into me. Her thigh and her hip into my flank, and her JJ-cup breast plastered into the side of my head. I saw in the mirror that my cock, unsurprisingly, had sprung back to life. Melissa seemed to be focused on other things, though, and hadn’t acknowledged it yet.

“I mean, just look at us, Jay,” Melissa breathed. It sounded like she was as in awe of the comparison as I was, if not more. “Just a couple months ago we were basically the same height, maybe you were even taller than me,” she said, “And now, I’m so much bigger, so much taller, so much stronger than you.”

“Don’t remind me,” I muttered weakly, lapsing into the sullenness regret that I knew would spur her on into even greater indulgence.

“And now,” Melissa continued, taking the feed, her voice quickening, “I’ve gotta be twice your size, twice your weight. Wouldn’t you think? I mean, my thighs might weigh more than you. They’re thicker than your waist. My ass totally dwarfed you, and my breasts…”

At that, she pulled me tighter to her, using her left hand to press the side of my face and head into her left breast.

“…my breasts are bigger than your head, Jay.”

I groaned, losing my fight with the urge to just turn my face to the right, nuzzling my nose into her bra and the firm form of her enormous left breast, a swell of which was bare under her armpit. I closed my eyes, breathed her in, and mewed little words. The scent of her deodorant, the scent of her perfume, and the swell of her side tit had me absolutely enthralled. I’d thrown all caution and dignity to the wind and decided to become utterly obsequious to her breast.

“Oh my god, Jay…” she moaned, palming my head even more firmly into her, rotating her torso just a fraction so as to push more of her enormous breast into my face, “Wh-what are you doing…?”

My submissiveness was working, I was revving her up, and I felt myself responding in kind. As I nuzzled into her I fought the instinct to reach down and grab my stiffening rod, show her tribute by stroking myself to her. She would like that, I knew, but even I had enough self control to resist that urge. Instead, maybe I could get her to-

“Flex,” Melissa suddenly spoke, calling my attention to us again in the mirror. I’d opened my eyes, seeing myself hideously plastered into her left tit, and I met her heavy-lidded gaze with my own questioning one. What did she mean?

“Flex,” she repeated, her voice deep with arousal now, and as I felt the mass of her body alongside me seeming to gather itself for something, I immediately understood. To the best of my ability I did as she asked. Watching myself in the mirror, I curled my skinny left arm and flexed my bicep. I tensed my shoulders, stiffened my legs. The result was, yes, maybe you could now see through my pallid skin the meager framework of what muscles I had. It was pathetic, but it was me.

And then it was her turn.

Still with me nestled into her left breast, her left arm curled around me and holding me to her, Melissa began to flex. Not just the arm around me, not just the leg I felt alongside, the one I’d unconsciously started to straddle, but everything. I watched in the mirror, and felt all around me, as her musculature just swelled and grew, each muscle growing again to twice its size. Her shoulders ballooned, her lats flared. Her traps peaked and eclipsed her neck. Legs burgeoned, abs solidified. And all the while she watched me as I watched her, seeing me stare in rapt awe at the spectacle of a beautiful woman growing right in front of my eyes.

Melissa’s body had become superior in every way, to nearly every human on the planet. Her muscles were becoming bigger, her limbs were longer, thicker and stronger. Her breasts were freakishly huge and firm, hips and legs shapely beyond belief. Her body’s perfume was a powerful aphrodisiac, her hair grew like a god’s, and even her skin was smoother and tighter, with a healthier-looking sheen than any mere mortal I’d ever seen. But even beyond this, unbeknownst to me at the time, there were other things that were becoming plainly superhuman with Melissa. Her strength, already you’ve witnessed, was unnatural…but what we’ve seen so far, what she’d shown me, was at that point nothing compared to what she’d been able to do now in the secret gyms and labs in which she’d more-or-less been raised. Her lung capacity had grown to match or exceed even the most elite of the world’s athletes, her reflexes and coordination were becoming extraordinary. The list could go on - her immune system, the durability and density of her bones, the fucking strength of her fingernails, for god’s sake - and I don’t think even she realized what she was becoming. She still couldn’t add a simple column of figures, though, or alphabetize a stack of files. But physically she was becoming unparalleled, especially by someone who was becoming as…well…feeble as myself. It wasn’t that I was sickly or unhealthy per se, it was more that I just looked fantastically unimpressive in the mirror next to my accentuated and augmented new Office Manager, who was currently flexing every single fucking superhuman muscle she had to make me look like a twerp.

“It’s…it’s not even really close, is it?” chuckled Melissa, winking at our reflections and pulling my face more firmly into her massive bosom, “You and me?”

I mumbled something into her breast - I can’t recall what, now - and in the next moment she bent and I felt her pass her right arm behind my knees, her left coming to support my back, and I was scooped up into her arms. She looked down at me, and with a nod of her chin she directed my gaze back to the mirror where I was greeted by the sight of my girlfriend holding me in her arms like a small child. My head lolled, and I leaned back into her embrace, onto her strong left arm in an admission of my subduction. Her huge, beautiful smile beamed back at me, white and bright under the single light above us, as pleased as Punch at the figure we struck. “Look at us, honey,” she said, in fact, “It’s perfect.”

I had ended up in Melissa's arms again and - turned back up to my caretaker's beaming face, her brilliant white smile and her twinkling golden-green eyes - would have been content to stay there forever. She wrapped her embrace around me tightly, practically sandwiching my torso between her enormous breasts and spun me around in a circle, laughing a bit like a crazy lady. It made my stomach twirl and head spin, but before I could protest she’d plunged her mouth onto mine, parting my lips with her tongue. Waiting for my world to stop whirling I attempted to resist for a full half-second before I gave up and kissed her back. Well, Melissa did all the work, really. She made out with me passionately, squeezing my body into hers. She spun again, and again, as we kissed, overcome and overjoyed in the moment, but then after a particularly quick twirl-

oof!

She suddenly had me pinned up into the wall again, hands holding my by the shoulders, her face scant inches away from my own.. Thankfully, the paint behind me had dried. “Did you like this before?” she asked, a crooked smile full of mischief making my heart flutter.

“Oh god yes” I was just able to reply before she crushed me with another deep, soul-sucking kiss. My limbs stiffened as - god lord - her tongue was once again nearly down my throat. I moaned into it, letting her know she could do anything she wanted with me.

She broke our kiss, though, after just a moment.

“I can’t wait to get even bigger for you,” she said in a low, lusty voice, consumed by a passion that seemed to be gathering more and more steam,. “It’s, like...oh my god...I just can’t wait.”

I throw any caution I still had to the wind. “I...can’t wait either,” I returned. I was so aroused that I was having difficulty breathing…plus my breath was caught in my chest because she had suddenly started massaging my torso, running her hands down my chest, holding me to the wall with the exertions of her affection.”I want you to get bigger too…” I further admitted.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, not quite believing what she was hearing, “I’m gonna do it…I’m gonna do it for you…”

“Jesus Melissa I can’t believe what you do to me already…”

“Yeah I can see…You’re so hard again...”

“Y-yeah...” I whispered back. It all seemed so crazy, and yet, somehow I could tell, to the both of us this moment had been a long time coming. I, at least, had just been too blindly proud, in my stereotypical thick male conceit to see it.

She kissed me again, and I seemingly had not a care in the world as I made out with this goddess of a woman. I didn't care that she was five, ten, fifteen, whatever years younger than me, that she worked for me, or that I was only recently divorced from a woman who would be hell-bent on ruining me if Melissa and I ended up together. At that moment she was my dream girl and exuded more raw sexuality than any woman I’d ever met. I was completely under her spell, and if she’d have me I was hers.

Now beyond any sense of reason - if you want to feel big, does this help? - I instinctively wrapped my legs around Melissa's waist, to get into an easier position and put my weight on her hips. This had the effect of making me seem to cling to her larger body, like a stripling. Of course, it also had the effect of pressing my crotch directly against her stomach.

She moaned, feeling me both hard up against her and my placing my smaller body on hers. “Oh god Jay yes let me carry you,” she sighed, kissing me and stepping away from the wall, sliding her arms behind me, under my bottom for support. She began to carry me around the room like that, me clutched to her body with thin legs wrapped around her lithe waist, her breasts ballooned voluptuously between us.

Before I knew what I was doing, I was gently bucking my hips against her. Melissa chuckled into our kiss, driving her tongue even deeper into my mouth again. She tightened herr embrace, essentially giving me the 'go-ahead' to keep doing what I was doing. She held me to her as she carried me around the room, each of us driving the other wild. She kissed me with abandon, but pulled back after a while to allow me air and speak to me.

"You know, I've…” she began; I could feel an unusual new trepidation in her voice, “I've done this a little before, as you can probably tell. Well, not like this haha but, y’know…”

“Yeah, I get it Melissa,” I said, my breath shallow, “y-you don’t have t-”

"But I never... I...I realize now that I didn't really like doing it until I met you,” she continued, a big smile now blooming on her face, gorgeous and earnest enough to melt my mind, “and now I want to do it to you every waking minute! Some days it's all I think about!"

“oh god me too Melissa..!” I cried.

She groaned, and pulled me back to her mouth again, holding me to her like she never wanted to let me go. She kept doing that, driving me to the edge of madness with her kiss and the press of her breasts sandwiching themselves between us and covering nearly my entire torso, then gazing into me with such a lovestruck look and pouring out her heart to me.

“The only thing I can think about is turning you on,” she’d say.

"I want you every minute of the day," she’d repeat.

And finally:

"I love you more than anything," she admitted.

I stiffened, in her embrace, my eyes going wide.

She kissed my face, my cheeks, my nose and chin, my eyes and lips, in a frenzy of motion and emotion, and pulled my hips more firmly into her abdomen.

“You don’t have to say it back…” she said.

“…I know it’s really soon…”

“…and there’s a lot going on…”

“…but I couldn’t keep it in any longer.”

“Melissa I-“

“Shh,” she stopped me, bringing a quick finger to my lips, “Not now, think on it. I just needed to tell you how I’ve been feeling.” She then took to kissing me again, first on my forehead, then down my face.

Thank god. For myself I couldn't think or move or focus on anything except those lips, those plushly exquisite lips, kissing my cheeks, my ears, moving all over my face and down my neck as she hoisted me higher in her arms, that and the rhythm I’d picked up, humping her waist. Melissa had me bent backward by the irresistible force of her massive boobs, and I was hanging in her arms as she ravished my upper chest now with kisses, so insistent that all I could do was hang my arms back limply as I swam in the onslaught of her lips. .

She was tireless, never wavering, never slowing down in her urgent kissing, and her hands held me pressed into her, rubbing me against her strong abdomen, with these sexy little cries coming from her lips every so often as she kissed me, now back on my mouth.

“Oh god Jay I love you so much,” she gushed.

“J-jesus are you sure?” I stammered, caught in this hurricane of emotion that was Melissa Monroe, my new Office Manager. I was, I have to admit, a bit incredulous. Look at her, and then look at me. “I mean… “

“Shh!” she stopped me again, almost in a scold as she read my thoughts, "I don't want you to ever think you're not right for me, Jay." Her eyes searched deep into mine and she squeezed me into her boobs so hard I saw stars. "I love you as your funny, smart, friendly self, not someone worried about not being good enough, or rich enough,” she continued, “These last few months have been like heaven to me. I've never been treated so wonderfully by any guy - boyfriend, boss, whatever - and now that you're mine I never want to let you go-“

“Melissa I-“

“Please, Jay, let me keep going,” she said, earnestly, a wild look building in her eyes, “If you wanted to quit everything and move away together I would do it without a second thought. If you wanted me to drop to my knees and worship you from the moment I woke until I couldn't keep my eyes open, I would do it. Or I can be your Queen, if that’s what you want…”

“oh god Melissa, I-”

She was speaking more quickly now, right over me, her fervor building. “I would do anything for you, Jay. I want to be your perfect woman. I’d quit working out, or work out so hard I'd be a hundred times stronger than you. I’d make my breasts smaller, or grow them so big they’ll fill the room. I'd do it all. I'd do anything you wanted. All I want is for you to please please just let love me you and trust me. Don't worry about rich guys or bigger guys or any of that. They don't even exist to me."

“Melissa I…I don’t know what to say…” I offered. It was so overwhelming, and I felt both so confused and so on top of the world. This goddess was practically begging me to just be hers, and not worry about any of the stupid things I was so concerned about. Because what is there, really, but love?

“I told you, sweetie, you don’t have to say anything,” she repeated, once again looking into my eyes like she was trying to decipher me, a crazed, passionate intensity in her expression. “But, Jay,” she then asked me, “can you handle a girlfriend who's changing like me, with emotions like mine? I’m big, baby, and I’m only getting bigger.”

I looked into her face, overcome by the strength of her passions and seeing in her eyes the huge, cresting wave of her feelings and shaking with the thought of being swept away in her tsunami, taken into her ocean storm like fragile flotsam. Was I man enough to ride the wave out, surf her swells? God, I’ll stop with the wave metaphors but…yikes. You know what I mean?

What was my other option, though? To say no, pull away, be so cautious with my feelings and fragile frame that I’d rebuff her, tell Melissa that it was better for us to be apart? That way I could try to rebuild my life, my health, maybe start to repair my marriage. I…I knew what the reasonable, adult thing to do would be, and I knew already what my decision was.

“I want you, Melissa, I want all of you,” I said to her, “Get as big as you want - I can take it.”

At that, she basically exploded.

In a motion both smooth and violent, her hands slid up to grab me by the sides of my bony ribcage and I was lifted from her waist only to be <*SLAM!*> slammed onto my back onto my small kitchen table, which was right behind me. <*snAP!*> came from the tabletop below me, as she’d cracked the wood with my body.

As I regained my senses and, half-panicked, tried to sit, I felt her push me firmly back onto my back. I raised my head off the table to see what she was doing next. I followed her eyes to my own erection, which now stood once again huge and monstrous, rising up from my bony hips. Being manhandled by my girlfriend like this had thrown fuel on my excitement, and though I’d climaxed just a short while ago there was no denying how ready I was for her again. I felt the adrenaline of fear and arousal pump into my system as I watched her. Standing over me, towering between my outstretched legs in her pumped-up glory, her phenomenal musculature shadowed strikingly in the dim light, she looked down at me like a woman possessed. Her huge breasts heaved with each deep, mighty breath she drew as she looked down at me like a conqueror with their spoils. She’d grabbed my ankles and spread my legs.

“Did you like the movie?” she asked me, plainly.

“W-wh-whu-what?” I stammered, voice quivering, suddenly confused.

“Did you like ‘She-Hulk’?” she clarified, speaking more slowly, more evenly now, but still with the eyes of a woman of the wild, like someone unhinged. Her ardor and passion burned behind her eyes like flames inside two arcane gems. “The movie we just watched last night?”

“What? I-i-I uh…” I continued, still confused. I’d slept through most of it, but-

“You love the she hulks I can tell,” she said, cutting me off, raising my ankles now off the table in her hands, spread-eagled up high into the air. Suddenly I felt more exposed and vulnerable than I’d ever been, before her and her immeasurable strength and manic passion. My legs were spread nearly as wide as they could possibly stretch, and all my intimates were laid bare. She looked down at me, her mouth dropping open, my cock responding to the sight with a surge of new vigor. I felt like, as she held me like that, that she could snap me like a wishbone.

And then she started to flex.

“I’ll give you the fucking She-Hulk,“ she then growled, pulling my ankles up and towards her, doing a modified double-biceps pose while holding me akimbo. And then, with a deeply primal <*ROAR!*> of feminine rage, I watched as she suddenly redoubled again in size, muscles flaring all over her body, her frame quaking with the effort and the room around us shivering. My eyes watered, I turned my face away from the sonic assault, and if plaster began to fall from the ceiling or the windows exploded outwards from her impassioned fury I would not have been surprised.

As she continued to completely control me, she began to get even more aroused and her muscles continued to grow, every muscle in her body bulging. Her back arched and

it seemed that each muscle in her massive body was at least twice its normal size. My rear had been lifted off the table in the meantime, lofted into the air, and my cock waved wildly between my legs. Her eyes went once again to it and she became focused, like a laser, upon it.

<*SLAM!*> I was back on the table, my ankles still held aloft in her hands, and now her head was buried between my legs. Like a serpent dragoness she had struck, and impaled herself upon my already throbbing member. I was sunk down deep into her throat and I felt her lips and mouth and teeth spread wide and clamp themselves around my entire scrotum. She could have torn me out by the root with a single, fierce toss of her head, but instead she took to sucking on me, pushing my ankles back towards my head so my knees came closer and closer to me. This was an amazon-position blowjob if there ever was one, and I watched the mighty arms of my own personal Amazon Queen flex and ripple, surging and swelling as they held my legs up and my back down, helpless.

“oh god…!” I cried, “oh god oh god oh god!” My pleas, my whimpers and moans only spurred her on to greater brute force, and at a point I felt my legs might be torn out at the hip. But the pleasure was unearthly and my orgasm was imminent, and as I threw my head back I knew what she really wanted to hear. “H-how t-tall are you?” I asked, in a voice labored and cracked.

“I’m six-foot five, two-hundred and twenty pounds,” she snarled in a deep thunder, raising her face from my crotch for just the mere moment it took to answer before diving back onto me again.

In answer I craned my neck back, tilting my face to the ceiling and clamping my eyes shut as I prepared myself to be destroyed by my climax. “a-and how tall am I?” I retorted, whining, whining whining.

“You’re fucking tiny,” she told me, and I exploded in her mouth.

============================================== big credit to Anuar at @artaibyanuartor for the original image, before my rework. Also check his NSFW Patreon. And once again I have to tip my hat to authors, particularly Pac, whose style I am absolutely stealing here, along with some blatant passages and lines of dialogue.

My own Patreon is Here

#growing into the job

85 notes · View notes

theoddcatlady · 10 months

Text

Little Dead Nancy

‘Little Dead Nancy,

Sitting on the bench,

One eye long,

and one eye gone,

Little Dead Nancy,

The red swing’s open,

come take a seat,

and swing with me!’

I almost completed the summoning of Nancy back when I was a kid. I was somewhere in the second grade, I’d just moved to this new school. Long story short, parents divorced, mom got custody, and now instead of playing with my friends I was surrounded by strangers.

I’d almost made the mistake of sitting on the red swing during recess when I was tackled into the sand by two other girls. “Don’t sit there, that’s Nancy’s swing!” One of them managed to get out as I squirmed free.

“Who’s Nancy?” I glanced around the playground, almost as if I expected to see a kid with a nametag that said ‘Hi, I’m Nancy!’

The two girls looked at me like I was an idiot before they looped their arms in with mine and escorted me to the jungle gym. There one of the girls, a red pigtailed gal named Leanne, told me the story of Little Dead Nancy.

The legend went that Nancy was a lonely little girl who had no friends and whose parents hated her, all because she was missing an eye. One day after being beaten up by the school bully, Nancy went up to the swingset and used the red swing to hang herself. Ever since, that swing belonged to Nancy. If I used the red swing I was just asking to end up like Little Dead Nancy. If one wanted to speak to Nancy, you had to repeat the little poem you read above while you swung on the green or blue swing. Apparently she’d start swinging next to you once you recited it. It was unknown what she’d do to you, but I think the common conclusion was that she’d murder you.

So my immediate response to this was to go back to the swingset, plop my butt down on the green swing, and start reciting. I attracted quite a crowd with this daring stunt and I’d gotten to the second ‘Little Dead Nancy’ when the teacher called us back in.

Quite a bummer to everyone who’d hoped some zombie child would show up and murder me, but I did end up bonding with Leanne about it. By the next day, I’d all but forgotten about the poem and just settled with playing House with Leanne and the other girl, Aileen.

I still kept my distance from that red swing. As I got older, I heard a bunch of stories of what happened to Nancy. Although the most common story was that she hung herself, some people said she was murdered by her parents who were tired of having an imperfect daughter. Another story said it was just an accident, that Nancy had been trying to do a loop over the top of the swingset and ended up strangling herself that way. You know, good old kid stuff to keep us spooked.

As a sixth grader I finally went and fact checked Nancy. Much to my surprise, there had been a death on the playground back in the seventies. But it wasn’t ‘Nancy’, it was an eighty something year old teacher named Georgia Smith. She just croaked while pushing one of her students on the swing. I did share my findings with Leanne, who had almost entirely forgotten about Little Dead Nancy and got a real kick out of my sudden morbid curiosity.

I didn’t really get any more friends other than Leanne and Aileen, and after Aileen ended up moving to Florida, all I had was Leanne. It was okay, we always just got each other. When my first dog died, she helped orchestrate a funeral. I comforted her after she had her very first break up. I thought we’d end up being friends until we were little old ladies.

Then last week happened. When Leanne was murdered and I almost got killed with her.

She was walking me back to my house after a study date when this gaggle of college aged dudes walked up behind us and started whistling and cat calling us. We’re sixteen, so, gross. Leanne just stuck her head up and looped her arm in with mine as we picked up the pace.

This didn’t settle with one of the guys, who sped up with us and grabbed Leanne’s arm, calling her a bitch and asking what her problem was. I could smell the booze on his breath and I tried pulling Leanne with me, saying that we have to get home as I had curfew. A lie, as my mom doesn’t really care where I am ever, but I hoped this freak would get the hint and just leave us alone. It didn’t work. This guy refused to let Leanne go and kept asking her to come with him.

I can’t remember what Leanne said that set him off, but the next thing I remember was my head meeting the brick wall and the agonizing punch of pain of being stabbed in the back.

I was lucky. He only stabbed me once. When the cops came to investigate a disturbance, Leanne had been stabbed over twenty three times. She was already dead. I was getting pretty damn close to it.

But I lived. Fucking hell, I’m alive and my best friend’s dead.

The funeral was last Sunday. Our whole school came. People liked Leanne. She was popular. Could’ve done great things. I, on the other hand, was the social recluse who had no future and no friends. Other than Leanne. Who always made time for me.

No one has the nerve to blame me face to face for her death, but the only reason she was out that night was to walk me home. Note, I say face to face. I think I’m up to twenty four death threats on Facebook from nine different people. Might be ten, but I think two of the accounts are the same person as they both wrongly spell bleach as ‘bleche’. As in, ‘drink bleche you fucking wore’. I think they mean ‘whore’.

I’ve spent a lot of time walking around in the dark since the funeral. Maybe I wanted to see that bastard again, the description I gave was shoddy and whoever his shitbird friends are aren’t selling him out. Maybe I just wanted to die and was too much of a coward to do it myself, so I wanted to find that bastard to finish the job he started.

But last night, somehow, I wound up on the playground.

Most of the playground equipment has been replaced, the slide, the merry go round, the sandbox… but the swing set was still the same, a rusted testament to the first day I met Leanne.

I brushed my fingers on the chain of the red swing, almost laughing as I remember her tackling me to the ground. That almost laughter turned into sobbing as I sunk to the ground. Why couldn’t God have taken me too, you know? We were best friends, going to be till the end.

I found myself sitting on the green swing without even remembering why I did, as I slowly swung back and forth. The playground was unnervingly quiet. I couldn’t even hear any birds.

“Little dead Nancy, sitting on the bench…”

I glanced at the bench the poem had to be talking about, it had also been replaced with a much nicer looking one. When I’d gone to this school, I think one of the legs had been replaced by a brick.

“One eye long, and one eye gone…”

What did that poem even mean, one eye long? Kids were fucking stupid.

“Little dead Nancy, the red swing’s open…”

I hiccuped, another tear weaving a path down my cheek. That was as far as I’d gotten the time I’d recited. I remembered Leanne’s face, eyes wide with anticipation. Anticipation for what, I really don’t know, did that little girl really think that a zombie was going to tear me apart in front of her? Again. Kids are dumb. But they don’t really mean it.

“C… Come take a seat, and swing with me.”

Nothing. Of course. I shook my head and stared up at the sky. “I guess I got the answer for what happens when you ask Nancy to swing with you, Leanne,” I murmured.

“Excuse me?”

I nearly froze as I heard the quiet voice behind me. I whipped my head around and nearly fell off the swing as I saw a little girl standing there.

Not a little girl. Nancy. Nancy was standing there.

She was a cute little thing, blonde curls, round face… well, would’ve been cute, if one of her eyes wouldn’t have been just a black hole and the other one dangling from the socket, bobbing up against her bruised neck. She fiddled with her pink skirt before reaching into her pocket and pulling out a tissue. “You look like you need this,” She said.

I slowly took it, expecting for her to lunge forward and bite me, but she just smiled as I wiped my face off and blew my nose. “T… thank you… you’re Nancy?” I asked, just to be sure there wasn’t another little ghost girl with a missing eyeball.

She nodded before taking her seat on the red swing, kicking her little white Mary Jane shoes back and forth. “That’s my name, don’t wear it out. I remember you,” She said. “Can you push me? It’s really hard to get going.”

I don’t know why I stood up and began gently pushing her, but I did. It was like touching an ice cube rather than a little girl, I swear the temperature around her had dropped to thirty degrees and Nancy herself was even colder. “You remember me?”

“Yupyup!” Nancy giggled as she began to swing back and forth. “Push me harder, you won’t kill me. I do remember you, you almost completed the poem. Rarely anyone does the full thing, and I can’t remember the last time someone did it when they were alone.”

“Huh.” At this point, I was wondering if I was seeing things and just pushing empty air, but this week had already been fucked enough, so I didn’t really care. “Do you remember the little girl with me? Red pigtails?”

Nancy hummed before she bobbed her head up and down. “She seemed nice.”

“She got murdered by a creep. That’s why I was crying.”

“I’m sorry.” The apology sounded quite genuine, which made the next thing that came out of her mouth seem even more ‘what the fuck’. “Are you going to kill the creep that killed her?”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it, I was talking to a goddamn ghost child and now she was recommending homicide to fix my problems. “That would land me in jail probably forever, even if the jury would agree that he would deserve it. Plus, I don’t even know his name. Can’t kill a guy if I don’t know who he is.”

“His name is Garth. Garth Strickland. He’s twenty four years old, drives a two door gray car that’s clearly on its last legs. He’s currently hiding out at his friend’s house in the woods with all the other witnesses. Waiting for this problem to just go away because he’s a spineless coward who is trying to reason that it wasn’t his fault, he was drunk, she called him names, she was dressing like a slut so she deserved what she got.”

I nearly passed out. I stopped pushing her and slowly walked out to her side. “H… how do you know?”

“I know lots of things!” Nancy chirped, pumping her legs back and forth to keep up the speed. “I know exactly where to find him. I know how to take him and his bitchy friends out too. Eye for an eye,” She reached up and flicked her dangling eyeball, “Tooth for tooth. I can help you kill him and gut him so he can’t do it again. You think this is the first girl he hurt? This is just the first one he killed.”

“Okay, you’re not a little girl, are you?” I crossed my arms. “What will it cost me to get these creeps?”

Nancy laughed and at the peak of her swing jumped off, landing neatly on her feet before turning around. “You’re pretty smart. You know there’s never been a dead kid on this playground, well, not one within the last few centuries at least. No, I’m not a little girl. I can be helpful though. All I ask in return is you let me tag along. I’ve gotten no action these past few years, and the old bird that croaked here a forever ago doesn’t count- she just happened to accidentally see what I actually look like and her ticker couldn’t take it.”

I’d like to say I took my time to think about it. This was serious after all, and I sure as hell couldn’t trust ‘Nancy’, whatever the hell she was.

But I knelt down to her height almost immediately, offering my hand to her. “Deal. I’ll take you back to the playground when we’re done though.”

“Of course. I do like it here after all, there’s a reason I’m a legend among the kids.”

Nancy took my hand and she changed. She grew in size, blond curls turned into red hair, the dangling blue eye turned to a shade of hazel.

I nearly starting crying again when I saw Leanne kneeling in front of me. She cocked her head to the side before she wrapped her arms around me. The icy temperature gave away that this wasn’t my friend, but god, just for a minute I was going to pretend. I threw my arms around her and hugged her tight. “I’m sorry,” I said.

“It wasn’t your fault. Don’t ever think that ever again… Thank you for being my best friend,” ‘Leanne’ whispered in my ear before I felt her chill enter my own skin. I closed my eyes as the cold crawled into my bones, deep in my heart, freezing me to my very core.

When I stood, I was alone. But I could feel the grief inside of me turn to the coldest rage.

Nancy is still inside of me. Every breath I take is borderline painful with the chill. I imagine touching me would be like putting your bare hand on frozen metal. I had to ‘borrow’ my mom’s car to get here. But I’m in the same town where Garth is, and all the witnesses that stood by and did nothing while he murdered an innocent girl.

I’ll stab each and every one of them twenty three times. And each one is going to be for her.

#my stories

13 notes · View notes