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explicit-tae · 1 year

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Unusual Suspects

You were always told that the internet wasn't a safe space and to be careful who you were talking to. Namjoon, your crush of years, was someone you thought was a safe haven - until you realized he wasn't the man you adored but instead a catfish pretending to be him. Now, said catfish is determined to ruin your life and the life of your childhood best friend, Taehyung, for their own sick pleasure.

Warning: yandere themes, catfishing, blackmailing, coercion, namjoon x reader, sexting, sextoys, squirting, fingering, sexual enhancement, voyeurism, cursing, reader is naive of course, fingering, nipple sucking, creampie, backshots, oral (f receiving), humiliation kink, blackmailing,

Word Count: 6,856

@bloodline1632 @darkuni63 @seokjinkismet @castlewolfsbane

'I always thought you were beautiful.'

Your smile slowly widens as you read the message on your phone.

Namjoon was - in your eyes - the man of your dreams. He was the definition of tall, dark and handsome. Perfect smile with the same perfect set of teeth. Dimples cheeks so deep, you swear you could probably cuddle in them - of course not literally. Overall, Namjoon was the whole package. He was intelligent, studying English at a neighboring university.

You began speaking with him around three months ago. You were already too timid to introduce yourself when you met him officially three months before that at a party (via your best friend, Taehyung). They weren't close, friendly acquaintances at best.

When you got a message from an instagram account claiming to be Namjoon, you were over the moon. The account had several hundred followers and many pictures that you never questioned if it was him or not. As the both of you spoke often, you received pictures from Namjoon personally - pictures of him at museums or taking walks at parks.

You weren't opposed in sending your own pictures of you visiting museums, as well, or strolling through gardens or frequenting cafes and bookstores. Namjoon was a good conversationist. There was never a dull moment when they both of you were immersed in your conversations about life and any and everything.

The intimate pictures came recently, Namjoon sending one first. A picture of him laying down, clothed bulge on display. The sight of it makes your mouth water and thighs clench. You were hesitant to send your own pictures, but you do. You were self-conscious about your body. You never were sure if you had the flat stomach, decent size breast and butt. However, sitting and dwelling on it would do nothing but make you insecure so you sent the picture.

You didn't regret it when Namjoon sends a flood of messages claiming that you were beautiful, comparing your beauty to goddess and even angels. You were flattered and it causes you to send even more pictures - each one becoming more explicit and raunchier.

It didn't stop at pictures. He'd send you videos of him, claiming that your beauty was what caused him to touch himself. He'd send you videos of him pumping his cock in the camera, heavy breathing in the background. He asks you to do the same and when you do, you feel unsure. You never touched yourself on camera; and even if you, you'd never send it to anyone.

Vaginas weren't appealing to you. You didn't enjoy touching yourself without a toy because of the wetness it caused, but for Namjoon you would. The sensation was weird at first but knowing that Namjoon would enjoy your videos doesn't cause you to stop. You plunge your fingers in and out of you, breathing deeply until you're moaning his name.

Each video session you sent one another, you became more comfortable. You appeared naked more often than not, nipples erect and more willing to add your face into said videos - even if Namjoon never did.

You were hesitant to tell Taehyung. He has been your best friends since childhood and any crush you had he never approved of. When you'd attempt to date, he'd claim that he was a male and understood how males worked. He'd never stopped you from dating but wasn't one to not say "I told you so" when the boys you chose weren't who they said they were.

Taehyung had caught you one night. The both of you live together in an apartment a few blocks away from the University you attended. You were careless this time. Taehyung being one of your closest friends, he didn't care much for personal space. He'd walk in on you while you showered and speak to you as if nothing was wrong. He'd walk around in his underwear and even walk into your room without as much as knocking. There had been many times Taehyung had caught you masturbating - this time it felt more humiliating because you were recording.

Taehyung wasn't going to let it go until you told him who you were sending those videos to, so when you did, you can see the glint in his eyes. He wasn't thrilled about you sending pictures to Namjoon, but you were a grown woman. You could do whatever you wanted and what you were doing wasn't illegal. Besides, Namjoon was a good guy unlike the others you were interested in.

You and Namjoon never spoke on the phone, nor spoke face to face - even though Facetime. You tried, but it failed each time. Namjoon claimed to never have the time and you were understanding - Taehyung not so much. But you were adamant about Namjoon being who he says he was. He posted regularly on his instagram and on his stories - the bike rides were your favorite.

'Do you like the gift?'

The message reads.

'I can't wait to see you ride it.'

You only agreed in riding the sex toy Namjoon had sent to you if you could do it on facetime. You had called and was surprised that he answered. It was dark but you could see his dimples even in the dark. Namjoon turns the camera to his exposed cock and you felt compelled to ride the cock he sent; your mind fantasizing that it was him you were riding.

Your pussy clenches around the dildo, juices sliding down the shaft of the large cock you rode. You moan each time your crash down on it - Namjoon's muffled moans in the background as you do so. He's currently pumping his cock roughly, eyes stuck on your tight pussy.

You moan his name loudly, not caring if Taehyung was home and could hear you. He would surely never let you live this down, but you were determined to cum with Namjoon.

You do cum, juices flooding out of you, and you release one last high pitch moan.

Taehyung does indeed laugh at you, making his own high-pitched moans imitating your own.

Taehyung begins to miss you. You were his best friend, someone who would always be there when he needed you. He took your time for granted. You had boyfriends and lovers, sure, but they never took up much of your time.

Namjoon, however, had. You'd often be on your phone when you were home, eyes glued to the screen completely. Your signature movie marathons were interrupted when the notification from your phone went off. You'd be smiling ear to ear and suddenly, he was second place.

You and Taehyung couldn't as much as play Mario Kart without you pausing to send a message to Namjoon and now, you were working his nerves. You were always his number one girl - hell, his number one person. As much as he had girlfriends, he'd never let them come between your friendship. His former girlfriends never understood that you were his best friend and came first - maybe that's why he was single now.

"We need to talk." Taehyung pipes up one day during dinner. You were both eating burgers and the constant sound of your phone going off was driving him irate.

You furrow a brow at Taehyung but nod.

"Are you sure you're speaking with Namjoon?"

You stop chewing. You turn towards him on the couch and stare for a few moments.

"Don't give me that look, Y/N." Taehyung rolls his eyes. "You said you never seen in face during these calls."

Maybe Taehyung was being picky and possibly confrontational. However, your well-being was his top concern. There was a possibility that whoever you were conversing with could be a creep using your naivety to their advantage.

"You do this all the time, Tae." You murmur, voice low. You no longer have an appetite.

"Y/N..." Taehyung sighs. He understands that tone in your voice. "I don't mean to hurt you-"

"You think Namjoon could never like me." you shrug your shoulders, biting your lip. "No man can ever like me in your eyes."

"That's not true!" Taehyung exclaims. He places his plate on the coffee table and turns to you fully. "I love you, Y/N. You know this. I just don't want you to be taken advantage of."

Taehyung was no fighter, but if your well-being was compromised, he would. He was a man, after all, and men had sick thoughts. Some thoughts he would never bring to the light, but they remained there, nonetheless. He'd hate to see you in a situation that could bring you to a depressive state.

"I just miss you. I miss us." Taehyung leans back into the couch and releases a sigh. "You're always talking to Namjoon and you never have time for me anymore."

"Aww," you began to smile. "Tae Tae!" you laugh. You lean forward to wrap your friend into a hug. "You missed me this much?"

Taehyung chuckles. "I hate you." he responds, but he returns your hug, nonetheless.

Taehyung was jealous, he'd admit. He'd never felt as if he'd ever lose you to another man before.

But Taehyung understood that one day you'd need to find a partner and eventually, you'd get married and have a family of your own. There would come a time where Taehyung won't be the most important person in your life anymore, and though it'll hurt, he'd have to get over it.

"You know I'd never leave you behind, Tae." you tell him, assuring. You lean back from the embrace. "Do you...think it's Namjoon?"

Taehyung bites his lips. He's unsure himself. A part of him wants to believe that Namjoon is the man you're speaking with. But he was sure this could be an episode of Catfish. You rarely speak to him on the phone, and when you do manage to facetime him, his face is never in the camera.

Taehyung swallows. "Well..." he trails off. "Why don't you ask to meet up?" Namjoon lives in the same city and goes to a neighboring university. Meeting up wouldn't be anything difficult if he is who he claims to be.

"I tried." you nod your head. "He...he says he's busy with school work and-"

"Y/N." Taehyung interrupts. "What did I tell you?"

You roll your eyes and groan out, "If a man wants to see me-"

"He'd make the effort to." Taehyung finishes with a nod. "Now, maybe this is Namjoon. But if you're going to keep fucking yourself-"

You widen your eyes and yelp. "Shut up!" you slap his shoulder.

Taehyung released a loud, deep laugh. "Don't hit me! I'm just saying, Y/N. You can't keep doing this virtual relationship when we live in the same city as the man."

You knew Taehyung was right. There's been many offers on your part to meet up, but they were always shut down. You tried to be supportive and understanding, but it was frustrating.

"Do you think he has a girlfriend, maybe?"

"Please don't put those thought in my head." you groan out, hands on your head now. "I cannot imagine being the other woman, Tae Tae."

Taehying shakes his head. "I'm just curious. Nothing more, nothing less." he assures. He knew what you were when you got into your own head. "Let's go out. It's happy hour."

You snicker. "You don't drink often."

"Duh." Taehyung responds matter-of-factly. "Half off all smoothies. Let's go, we only have about 30 minutes left."

This is what you adored about Taehyung. He was spontaneous in a way. He wasn't like other men and was a nerd at heart. You two had traditions. Every Monday there was a movie marathon you both attended in the living room - you both had later classes and didn't need to work. Wednesdays were considered errand day. Taehyung claimed to hate this day, but he never allowed you to hold a bag from the grocery store after running around throwing everything in the cart.

Taehyung was your best friend and you're grateful that you met him many years ago; and just as grateful that you maintained the friendship even into your adulthood.

"Y/N, open the door!"

You lean against the bathroom door, tears trailing down your eyes at an alarming pace. Your hands tangle in your hair and you're doing everything in your power to calm your breathing.

You're embarrassed.

You're traumatized.

You're disgusted with yourself more than anything.

Taehyung continues to knock on the door in hopes you'd open up to him. He hated seeing you cry. You appeared vulnerable and fragile. But he was your best friend and needed to help you through your pain.

You fingers pull your hair at the scalp while you attempted to drown out Taehyung's knocks and calls.

You were wrong about him - Namjoon. You couldn't face Taehyung now. You were positive that he wouldn't laugh in your face about how you were wrong about him. However, you wish that the ground would crumble up and swallow you whole.

While Taehyung and you were out getting smoothies, his eyes had caught an interesting site. Namjoon wasn't someone that you could miss easily. He was as tall as he was clumsy, and clumsy he surely was. Him dropping three smoothies onto the ground as soon as he got it causes Taehyung to offer help.

Taehyung and he chatted for a few moments, laughing at how clumsy he was. They weren't friends, but they weren't strangers.

That was your moment to enter. Maybe he didn't see you there with Taehyung. When else would you get the opportunity to meet with him? You introduced yourself and Namjoon offers a wide dimpled smile that faded each moment as you began to speak. He was confused - genuinely confused on what you were speaking of.

"You were talking to me?" Namjoon ponders aloud. "I-I...don't think it was me."

You felt hot upon hearing the words. The confusion on his face, mixed with the hesitance in his voice. He was telling the truth. He didn't know who you were in the slightest.

"Hold on!" Namjoon calls, but you sprint out of the cafe. Taehyung follows close behind you.

"Open the door, Y/N. Please talk to me." Taehyung is begging now, pleading with everything in him for you to speak with him.

Taehyung steps back when the door swings open. Your eyes were puffy, and cheeks stained with tears. He steps forward to engulf you in a hug, but you step around him. You make a dash to you into your room, but Taehyung is trailing close behind you. As you try to slam your door, Taehyung pushes his way through. "Ignoring me won't make it go away."

"I don't want to talk." you cry. It was bad enough that you had to deal with the fact that you were dumb enough to believe Namjoon would talk to you. Now, having to face Taehyung - someone who voiced his own concerns about it - was just a slap to the face.

"Y/N. I'm your friend!" Taehyung hisses. He doesn't mean for his words to come off harsh, but he would be damned if he allowed you to be alone in your own self-pity. "Let me comfort you."

And you do. Taehyung doesn't speak when you cry into his chest. He was sure his shirt would be covered in tears and snot by the time you were done, but nothing a little laundry detergent and water could help.

Taehyung rubs your back soothingly when you calm down. He doesn't push you to talk to him right away. He understands your hurt - he only wish he could take your pain away.

"I feel so stupid." you murmur after an hour. Taehyung and you now laid upon your bed, your head on his shoulder. "Namjoon must think I'm a loser."

"He doesn't." Taehyung responds. "He looked concern. I didn't have a chance to speak with him." You were his main concern, but he'll have to get in contact with Namjoon and explain the situation sooner or later.

"You were right." you bitterly scoff. "I showed my body to some creep like a whore."

"Stop it, Y/N. You aren't a whore." Taehyung turns to you. He's glad you aren't crying anymore, but he wasn't going to listen to you insult yourself. "You were catfished. it happens to all of us. Block that person immediately."

And you do. You were hesitant in the beginning. A part of you wanted to believe that the person you were speaking with was indeed Namjoon, but you understood you had to do what was best - which was blocking the catfisher. It shouldn't be anything to question. It was the obvious thing to do, but you can't stop yourself from feeling empty afterwards.

Taehyung on the other hand decided that he needed to keep you at eye level. He didn't wish to smother you - being overly affectionate about your situation would only make you think about the situation more often. But he knew he needed to be there for you as much as you'd let him.

A week thus far had passed, and Taehyung is unsure how you're handling everything. He's sure you're choosing to ignore everything. each moment he'd ask if you're alright, you'd brush him off as if it was obvious that you were indeed alright. "Why wouldn't I be?" you'd ask in response. Why wouldn't you be alright? You were catfished by who the hell knows. This person has your nudes plastered all over their phone. It would be traumatizing for anyone.

Another week passes and you're walking alongside Taehyung to your joint apartment. You're content that he hasn't spoken about the situation. You were glad you had a Taehyung in your life that cares for you, but you needed nothing more than to move on from this situation.

Taehyung presses the buttons to the apartment to unlock it. He twists the door and swings it open. He flicks on the lights and halts in his tracks.

You push around him to enter. Your eyes catch the scene before you and you suddenly feel sick to your stomach.

"Y/N..."

You don't respond to Taehyung. Instead, your eyes are flickering to the countless pictures hanging in the apartment - all of you. The same pictures you sent to the catfisher.

'Who the hell are you?'

The last thing you wanted to do was get in contact with someone you never wanted to speak with again. This same someone could be someone dangerous and deranged.

How the catfisher managed to figure out where you lived to just display countless pictures of you - the same ones you sent to them - was psychotic behavior.

Taehyung had watched you break down one too many times, but this was different. You cried even harder as you snatched all the pictures and crumbled them in your hands. He's unsure what to do - how to comfort you. He's breathing heavily and he's attempting to rack his brain around this situation.

Taehyung asks if you'd like to go to the police station and report this. It was stalking and harassment, surely there was something that could be done. But you turned the idea down. You were humiliated. How could you go to someone and admit that you were catfished in the most obvious way and now being tormented?

Your hands snatch your phone from your bed once you received a notification. It was them.

You read the message while licking your lips in anticipation.

'Hello, Y/N.'

You're pissed now. Why were they responding as if nothing was gone?

'I'm sure you feel stupid.'

They were taunting you now. As if you were some type of joke in their sick game.

'What do you want from me?'

You hesitantly wait for a response. You're unsure if you want to know. The type of material they had on you was enough to ruin your life.

'To embarrass you.'

Your eyes begin to water. You're racking your brain to figure out what you did to deserve this? Did they know who you were personally? You weren't one to be rude to anyone, even when they deserved it. You've gone to restaurants where your order has been royally fucked up and you've never complained. You were polite when needed to. At your own job, the customers and their attitudes were off the wall, however, you could never bring yourself to give the same energy they gave.

'You've allowed me to embarrass you. You've sent me these pictures. They belong to me now.'

Your stomach churns.

'And you also belong to me now.'

Taehyung knocks at your door. He hasn't heard from you in hours. He told himself it was best to leave you be for a while, but a while has passed. He feared you would hurt yourself. No, you never did anything to hurt yourself before, but you've never been through anything such as this.

Taehyung twists your doorknob and pokes his head in. The room is dark, but he can see your body curled on your bed, head faced down. He hears slight sobs, and he feels horrible. "Y/N?" he calls, stepping forward. "Don't cry."

It was easier said than done. It wasn't Taehyung being harassed by a random person who knew a little too much about you.

"We're going to get through this." Taehyung places a hand on your back and begins to rub. "We can go to the police-"

"No." you jolt up and shake your head. You proceed to wipe your eyes. "They h-have pictures and videos and..."

"Sshh..." Taehyung shakes his head. "I understand but-"

"But they own me." you scoff bitterly. "They said...they said I have to do things for them. Him. Them...I don't even know if it's one person or not."

Taehyung furrows a brow. "Do things for them? What the hell do they want?" he hisses.

You begin to cry harder. You wanted to vomit all over the place. You feel your heart begin to break at what your life was becoming.

"Tell me, Y/N." Taehyung's voice becomes louder with authority. "What do they-"

Taehyung hears another notification. It's not your phone, but his own. He looks down at his phone and shakes his head. "I don't understand."

Your eyes watch as Taehyung opens the message and begins to read.

'Hello, Taehyung. You claim to love Y/N and would do anything for her, what are you willing to do to get her out of trouble?'

"What trouble, Y/N?" Taehyung flickers his eyes from his phone screen to you. "You can come to me for anything, you know that, right?"

"I can't-"

"Y/N you can!" Taehyung hisses, but another message comes before he can continue.

'You two are best friends, are you not? How friendly are you?'

"What does he mean?" Taehyung scans your frightened expression.

"He wants you to..." you feel sick, lightheaded. "to...he wants to watch you and me..."

Taehyung's expression turns from confused to puzzled in a matter of seconds at the realization.

'I bet you're asking what I get out of this. I like to see people like you squirm. You don't deserve this, of course, but bad things always happen to good people.'

"There has to be a way to track these people." Taehyung scoffs in disbelief. There wasn't a way they were going to blackmail the two of you.

"I-I tried...I-I-"

"Calm down." Taehyung places a hand on your knee. "It'll-"

Taehyhung's phone rings in his hands. It's the same unknown person and he answers immediately. He was ready to cuss and scream at whoever it was, but they're speaking before him.

"You can do as I say or everyone in your contacts - both of your contacts - will know of these pictures."

Your breath hitches in your throat. You don't recognize the voice, but it appears to be using a face tone either way, possibly through an app.

"If you choose to do as I say, I will send you a link to a livestream."

"L-Livestream?" you choke. Who the hell would be watching?

"Don't worry, only I would be attending."

"What are we expected to do?" Taehyung murmurs.

"You know. Fuck her."

You began to cry.

"You may say you're just friends, but how could you not want to fuck her when your room is exactly besides hers?"

Taehyung's fists clench.

"Do you hear her fucking herself-"

"Stop!" Taehyung hisses. "What do you want? Money?"

"If I wanted money, I'd ask for money." the voice offers a deep chuckle. "I want to see how much of a slut she is."

Your tears are falling effortlessly down your cheeks.

"If she could bare it all for me and she wasn't certain who I truly was, what is she willing to do with someone she's known for years?"

"We don't have to do this."

You're trembling, unable to look Taehyung in the eye. You feel naked before him - and technically you are. You were by no means insecure when it came to Taehyung. He's seen you down to your bra, but that was because you were drunk out your mind. Your intoxicated state had vomited all over yourself, the floor and the surrounding people.

This? This was different. Taehyung had never seen you in lingerie before and you're sure he didn't want to. Your arms were crossed over your chest, the lingerie you wore clinging onto your skin uncomfortably. It was lacy and black, and you're positive that it would be a set you adored if you weren't forced into.

You were shocked by Taehyung agreeing to the terms of the pyscho catfisher. In the beginning, you had concluded he only did so because you were a crying mess at the catfishers words. But when the catfisher had contacted the both of you once more a week later, Taehyung had not gone against his word. Even with the amount of demands they had - you wearing a specific lingerie that you sent to you. They have given both you and Taehyung sexual enhancements - liquid shots that you were instructed to take over 20 minutes ago on a livestream.

You owned a laptop, but Taehyung owned a desktop setup that he was instructed to connect to a larger monitor so the catfisher could comment while being a creep and watching.

You glanced at Taehyung and sniffled. He wore nothing but his boxer and though you never thought about Taehyung sexually, you couldn't help your eyes from wandering. You blamed the sexual enhancement.

A notification sounds from the monitor. Your head snaps to it, reading what the catfisher has written.

'You two are boring.'

Taehyung scoffs. He turns his head towards you once more. "Y/N..."

'We don't have to do this.' But you did need to do this. The threats and harassment were becoming unbearable. If they needed to see you embarrass yourself and possibly ruin your friendship with Taehyung, then so be it.

"You need to fuck me, Tae."

Before Taehyung can react, another comment comes from the voyeuristic catfisher.

'I want to see foreplay. Sex isn't enjoyable without it.'

You gulp. You inhale deeply and exhale slowly. You haven't had sex with a man in almost a year. By the look of Taehyung's underwear, your dildo could not prepare you enough.

'You already took the enhancements. Make this worth your while.'

Taehyung turns to you fully. He's attempted as much as he could to not look at you. He wasn't a pervert - especially to you. He loved you. You weren't the typical fuck to him. "Try...laying down."

You nod your head. You allowed your arms to fall to your sides. Taehyung himself blames the sexual enhancement he took. Had your body always been this inviting?

"W-What are we gonna do?" you murmur to him, laying down on his bed. You feel awkward and wanted to die on the spot.

"Relax." Taehyung responds. He places a hand on your knee and gently rubs it. "I'll never hurt you, Y/N, baby."

You feel the gush rush between your legs. Goosebumps run up your arms and shakingly release a breath. Taehyung's voice could possibly never be this deep before.

"You trust me, don't you?" Taehyung kneels down, brown eyes staring into yours. When you nod your head, Taehyung offers a small smile. "Open your legs."

The lace allows Taehyung to get a glimpse at how wet your pussy was. He grunts lowly, tongue poking out to wet his lips.

Your back arches when you feel Taehyung send a kiss on your clothed clit. You head is spinning - this was your best friend. You could even consider Taehyung to be like a brother, now you're not so sure.

Taehyung rubs his lips against your clothed clit, his cock twitching in his underwear. It's tight and needs to be torn off, but you weren't someone he would fuck into the mattress like a savage. He had to prep you first. Your scent is inviting - it makes his mouth water.

You can feel Taehyung's finger push the lace panty aside. You're fully exposed in front of him now.

Taehyung doesn't hold back. He licks a slow stripe up your clit and watches your reaction. It causes him to lick and suck when he notices you're just as into as he is - this frightens him. Taehyung suckles on your clit - his best friends clit - so savagely that his sucking is echoing off his bedroom walls.

You tell yourself that this is a onetime thing - that this could never happen again. It was the sexual enhancement that has Taehyung so deep into your pussy that you're enjoying it.

Your moans send Taehyung over the edge. He hooks his hands beneath your knees and locks you in place so he could continue to suck on your clit. He watches you, mouth agape and moaning for him so loudly that he's leaking like a teenager in his underwear.

"Tae..." you gasp his name, flinching at the overstimulation. "....fuck."

Taehyung lifts his head and licks his lips. "Are you okay, baby?"

You moan again because shit, Taehyung was sexy. You never thought this man was anything but your cute best friend who enjoyed playing dorky games and even more dorky hobbies. Was this what his former girlfriends experienced?

Taehyung enters two fingers inside of you. He pumps slowly, astonished at how wet and tight you were.

It's amazing that the both of you were forgetting the camera recording the livestream, but you two will blame the sexual enhancement.

"You're so wet, baby." Taehyung hisses, pumping his fingers faster. "So wet and so beautiful."

You groan, eyes squeezed shut. Your legs are quivering.

Taehyung's free hand allows your leg to fall. His hand snatches at the bra of your lingerie and tugs. He needed to suck on your breast - plump and ready. Your nipples are erect for him when he snatches them out and he doesn't hesitate to suck on them.

You can't hide your moans any longer. Your breast was a sensitive area, and Taehyung doesn't slow when he's sucking.

Taehyung's breathing quickens, sweat trickling down his forehead. He can sense that you were close to cumming just from how tight your pussy clenches around his fingers. He couldn't wait to be able to fuck you.

"You're going to cum all over my fingers, aren't you?" Taehyung's sucking extends outside of your nipples. He's biting your breast, appearing completely animalistic, and leaving behind marks and bruises.

"Yes, I'm gonna cum." you nod your head, hips wiggling to get away from the sensation. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." you hiss, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

The sound of the squirt sprouting out mixed with your sudden screams are a perfect melody, perfectly in sync. The bed is wet, as are you and him.

“I’m gonna fuck you." Taehyung hisses, pushing his underwear down.

Taehyung is huge. His cock is sprung, pink and veiny. It was perfect.

Taehyung places the tip of his cock on your clit and groans. "Fuck, baby, you're so sexy." he murmurs, eyes glued on your wet, glistening clit. "Do you want me to fuck you?"

You nod without a thought. If he could finger fuck you into oblivion, you had a wild ride ahead of you.

Taehyung enters you and hisses. There was no time to hesitate. He fucks into you deeply, hands clenching your hips. He lifts your hips so that he has full control to get deeper inside of you.

"Shit." you moan, shaking your head. Your eyes catch on the site, Taehyung so focus on his thrusts that he doesn't notice you observing him.

Taehyung was so beautiful, so caring. You couldn't think of another man that you loved more than Taehyung.

Taehyung bites his lips, eyes flickering to yours. His heart jumps to find your eyes - filled with lust - already on him. "Feels good?" he smirks, nails digging into your skin deeper.

"I love you, Tae." you slur your words, you're positive you could cum again right now.

Taehyung halts his thrusts. "Huh?"

"I love you." you sigh. "Please don't stop." you beg.

You loved him.

Taehyung knows this. Of course you love him. You two were best friends - the bestest of friends.

But this confession of love appeared personal.

"I love you, too, baby." Taehyung flips you around. He slams your face into his bed. Your ass is in the air, and he sends a quick slap upon it before entering you again. "How much do you love me?"

You're unable to give a response with the power in his thrusts. Your hands clench his bedsheets.

"I love you so much, Tae." you moan, eyes squeezed shut. He was fucking too good that you couldn't do anything but say you loved him. You're unsure if a man has ever made you feel as good as Taehyung did - and that was deadly. This was someone you'd had to look at once the sexual high (and enhancement) wore off.

Taehyung groans, hips snapping into you. His right hand slaps your cheek. "Say it again, baby. Say you love me."

You enjoyed being hit, Taehyung notes, you clench around him.

"I-I love you...." you're cumming and moaning uncontrollably.

Taehyung was near himself. You sounded so beautiful; your pussy was amazing. Your body captivates him and he surely did adore you. The sayings were correct - sex with those you loved was far more intimate when it was with someone you loved.

Taehyung shoots his cum inside of you, cursing as he does so. His cum shoots out of you and it drips down your clit and onto his bedsheets.

You fall into the bed, breathing deeply. Your eyelids were heavy.

Taehyung falls besides you and wraps an arm around your waist.

Namjoon hands squeezes the tip of his cock, his eyes are glues to the screen. He came just in time with you and Taehyung, the sight amazing. He continues to eye his screen to see the both of you soundly asleep, forgetting about you livestream show they put on for him.

Namjoon was but a man. People would say he was a sick bastard if he found out what he was doing, but he wouldn't call himself sick. He was just...a man. He had needs like the rest of the men around the world had. Sure, maybe what he was doing wasn't necessarily "human decency" but he couldn't help his self.

Namjoon understood that he had a problem at a young age. He loved to see women in positions such as this - humiliated. Degraded. Helpless.

Namjoon once attempted to get help. He spoke to therapist about his sadism. He didn't want to hurt people, no, but watching and enjoying people be humiliated brough him great pleasure.

Namjoon was a voyeur. He adored being able to sit and attend the sex parties. The gangbangs were his favorite - the sight of a woman being completed used for pleasure brought him over the edge. He understood he was a sick individual, but he was far too deep into this.

Namjoon groans, pumping his cock in his hand at the site of Taehyung pounding inside of you. It was obvious the sexual enhancement had only enhanced the sexual attraction that was already there. Taehyung licked your pussy with such need and desire - only could be done with someone he truly loved and desired.

Taehyung fucks you with such need, almost as if he was waiting for this very moment. Namjoon cums too quickly for his liking, but it wasn't long until he was erect again.

The moans from Taehyung and you were the icing on the cake. You were far into the sex that you forgot he was watching. You should thank him, truly. You were getting the best sex of your life by your best friend - yelling out constant "I love you's". Namjoon was a match-maker, he thinks.

When you fall asleep, Namjoon manages to clean himself. He showers and washes the clothes he had on prior. His mind wanders to the previous weeks. How you had introduced yourself to him and how he had to pretend not to know who you were. You were hurt and the hurt does nothing but turn him on. He remembers the way you ran out of the smoothie shop in pure embarrassment.

Taehyung calls after you, but not before stopping by Namjoon first.

"How do you think she'll handle it?" Namjoon asked, furrowing a brow.

Taehyung shrugs. "She's embarrassed. That was part of the plan."

As Namjoon exits his shower, his phone rings. He strolls back towards his bedroom where his desktop laid, livestream still on. Taehyung was not in site, but you remained asleep on the bed.

Namjoon grasps his phone and hums. He answers. "You're calling sooner than expected."

Taehyung chuckles.

"How does it feel?" Namjoon asks. "To finally fuck Y/N?"

Taehyung groans. "Like heaven." he admits.

Namjoon snorts, rolling his eyes.

Taehyung's plan to get you into bed was a wild one. When the younger man had come to him with the plan, he had laughed in his face. However, Taehyhung remained stoic. He was serious, and Namjoon was intrigued.

Taehyung was no fool to Namjoon's own kinks and fetishes. Who else would be the one to go along with his plan? Sure, Taehyung's plan was a bit insane and time consuming. "Talk to Y/N pretending to be yourself, get her comfortable and then pretend to not know who the hell she is."

It took Namjoon months to get to know you. You were a genuine person, and the wholesome part of him understood what he was doing was wrong. But, the chance to witness you vulnerable had caused him to go along with the sick plan by no one other than your best friend.

"By all means necessary." Taehyung had assured, and Namjoon had delivered.

You were a beauty. You weren't the outgoing type so to get you to become intimate with him wasn't something to be done easily. But Namjoon was persistent. He got you comfortable enough that you bore it all for him - and he had the leverage he needed to break you.

Taehyung had received all the pictures and videos you had sent Namjoon - what he did to them, Namjoon had a clue. But he wasn't one to judge; he did the same.

"What now?" Namjoon sits at his desk. You stirred but didn't wake. "Is the game over?"

Taehyung sighs. "No." he responds. "I haven't compensated you."

Namjoon scoffs. "You don't need to pay me. It was fun."

Taehyung is silent on the other end, so silent that Namjoon checks to see if he had hung up.

"Don't you want to fuck her?"

The question catches Namjoon by surprise. "H-huh?"

Taehyung snorts on the other end.

"Tae, it's not funny." Namjoon hisses. "Stop joking."

'I'm not." Taehyung quips. "Her pussy still belongs to me, Joon-ah. I just want you to...have a little taste." Taehyung voice seemingly darkens, and Namjoon stiffens.

"Is that so?" Namjoon questions.

"Of course. I have to be there, though." Taehyung says. "I'm sure we can come up with another plan for her to let the both of us have her."

"At the...same time?" Namjoon can just feel his cock harden. He never participated in a threesome before and just the thought has him ready to cum once more.

"Yes."

Namjoon licks his lips.

"Okay." Namjoon needs to keep his composure. He couldn't allow his excitement to be exposed at this moment. You were once considered off-limits, but now Taehyung was extending his possession for him. "What's the plan?"

Taehyung clicks his tongue. "I'll get back at you." he says. "I know you're hard again."

Namjoon cheeks flushs. Taehyung knew him too well.

"I'm going to fuck Y/N again and you're going to watch." Taehyung sing-songs. "Give you a little show of just how good my pussy feels. How good it'll soon feel for the both of us."

Taehyung hangs the phone up and like clockwork, he's back into the room. Namjoon gulps. Again, he was but a man - as fucked up as it was.

977 notes · View notes

chrisgates · 9 months

Text

TIMING: Early June LOCATION: The Pines PARTIES: @chrisgates & @mortemoppetere SUMMARY: Emilio comes across Chris in the woods and questions him about a missing person. Chris ends up giving him a hand with some photographic evidence even though he would rather get back to that cool frog. WARNINGS: None!

Alyssa Mullins was missing. Alyssa Mullins had been missing for a week now and, in Wicked’s Rest, that never meant anything good. Emilio wasn’t sure why her sister had waited as long as she did before hiring him. Hope in the police, maybe, which seemed like such a naive, stupid thing to have. Or maybe denial was more likely, some quiet insistence of closing your eyes to something you didn’t want to be real.

In any case, he knew that the amount of time she’d been missing meant it was unlikely that Alyssa Mullins would be found in any kind of state her sister was hoping to see her found in. The chance of a happy ending only lessened when the trail the detective was following led him into the woods. Emilio sighed, leaning down to pick a discarded tennis shoe out of the dirt. Yeah. This wasn’t going to end with a happy reunion.

Sharp ears picked up on a snapping twig behind him, and the hunter stiffened all at once, narrowing his eyes as he turned towards the sound. There was already a knife in his hand, ready to strike. Whatever was out there wasn’t undead, but that hardly meant it wasn’t dangerous. “All right,” he said lowly, “you can come out, or I can drag you out.” If it was something incapable of understanding speech, he’d just have to default to the latter.

So far so good, right? As much as Chris knew, there weren’t any missing or dead people connected to him or to his name. Maybe a deer or two, but no actual humans — not yet. There were plenty that disappeared in Wicked’s Rest, most never to be found again. Entirely creepy, the place was kind of like its own Bermuda Triangle, which he hoped would at least dampen any misplaced suspicion.

What he didn’t know couldn’t bother him, so Chris chalked it up to being a good week. He was in high spirits when he went out to the woods that day with a camera around his neck. They were familiar woods, calm, quiet and a good distance from any view of civilization. He liked to go there for the diverse wildlife that passed through — they liked to go there to eat.

Although he was unaware of just how frequently he visited the area, Chris set himself up all the same. He was there maybe an hour or so and the position he found himself in wasn’t ideal for the angle of the shot, so he adjusted himself. With his weight pressed down, the foliage and bits of earth snapped and crunched. The sounds weren’t something he’d pay too much mind to usually, but in that moment, they painted a large target onto his back.

The voice that rang out, definitely not animal, whipped his attention from the camera’s viewfinder. Chris didn’t like that tone. He didn’t like it one bit. From where he was, he was hidden by the lush greenery — but so was whoever called out. They knew that he was out there, so it wasn’t like he could lay low and pretend he wasn’t, no matter how tempted he was to try. Instead, he chose another approach:

“Uh, hi, please don’t,” Chris apprehensively announced as he thrust a free hand up and out of the bush he was in. His head and shoulders followed slowly; he really hoped that this ended well for him. “Can I help you with something?”

A voice called out, confirming that whatever was in the woods was something that both understood and was capable of speech. That still didn’t do much to ease Emilio’s mind. Most of the worst things he’d ever dealt with had been plenty capable of talking to him throughout, after all. But the voice did sound surprised — as if they hadn’t known they weren’t the only one out there. Good. Probably not something hunting him, then. If it were, it would have used whatever was left of the element of surprise to attack rather than giving away its position with…

A hand, sticking out of a bush. Then a head, then a pair of shoulders. The guy seemed unassuming enough, probably only a few years younger than Emilio. He eyed him suspiciously for a moment, but there didn’t seem to be anything inherently off about him. If anything, he looked sheepish.

“What are you doing out here? Shitty place for a hike, man.” And it was weird to hike inside a bush, wasn’t it? Emilio wasn’t much of a hiker, wouldn’t have been even if he hadn’t had a bad leg that gave him hell any time he tried to push it into doing more than the bare fucking minimum, but he was pretty sure this wasn’t exactly how it was done.

Oh, great. Just another guy in the forest. Chris knew what he was doing out there, at least. What was he doing? A small, irrational part of him told him that he was to blame. For what? Only his fears could tell him that, apparently, for he could never remember himself. The blame was always placed from the outside. Right now though, there was no blame, only confusion and apprehension.

“I’m taking some photos,” Chris held up his camera a little higher. “There’s a pretty cool frog down here and-” he’d looked into the bush to find the little amphibian missing. “-it’s gone.” Chris uttered out a sigh before he turned the attention back onto his visitor. “What are you doing out here?” The man didn’t look like he had any sort of gear on or camera or really anything to explain why he’d be out here so far from the trail.

The way that he looked like he came straight off the street made Chris nervous. What was he doing out here? He prayed the interaction was short-lived, but with the way he was being studied almost seemed unlikely.

Photos? Was that something people did, then? Go into the woods alone to take photos of frogs? Emilio tried to rationalize it, tried to understand the appeal. If you wanted a photo of a frog, you could look it up online. Even he knew that, and he was hardly an expert of the online world. But… The guy did have a camera, and it’d be a little weird to bring a prop with you to sell a lie on the offhand chance someone happened upon you killing somebody. The camera would just get in the way. And he couldn’t have been waiting for Emilio out here with any sort of specific intent, not when Emilio himself hadn’t known he’d be heading in this particular direction until he’d started on his way. It seemed to be an innocent run-in, then. Somehow, those were always harder for the detective to accept.

“Uh, sorry,” he offered uncertainly. “For scaring off your frog.” Was that the right thing to say? Was that what you did in a situation like this one? Emilio would have been far more in his element if the guy had tried to kill him. Instead, he was floundering. At least the question being turned on him gave him an excuse to think about something else… though he was never sure if the truth was the best option to go with here. People often said things to strangers that they might not say to private investigators. Even if this guy didn’t know anything, he might not know for sure if he led with the truth.

So he shrugged, glancing down the trail. “A friend of mine comes out here sometimes, and I haven’t seen her in a couple days. I’m hoping I can catch her if I come at the right time. I’m getting kind of worried about her, you know? You see anybody else out here?”

His apology seemed genuine, Chris thought, but he wasn’t about to just drop his guard over a little frog bonding. That would be stupid. He was, in truth, a little disappointed that the amphibian decided to high-tail it out of there. There were a few shots he managed to snag, but not nearly as many as he would’ve normally taken. So still, the apology was a nice gesture despite the circumstances. Chris offered the other guy a shrug. “There are other frogs,” he extended with intended respite.

The man’s truth seemed to be just that - his own. Chris didn’t know him; he didn’t know if he was telling the truth or not. He hated to take others’ words at face value, but in this isolating moment — a situation he knew could turn drastically dangerous at any turn — it was a necessary evil. “No, I’m sorry-” he replied with a swallow. He turned his own gaze to the surrounding area, as if this guy’s missing friend would’ve magically shown up at that point. “I haven’t seen anyone out here.”

He wasn’t obligated to believe Chris, and Chris was inclined to think he wouldn’t. He had to be prepared for the worse case scenario. He looked down at his wristwatch. “She comes out around this time? This is kind of a ways off.. Does she hike around this area, do you know?”

Emilio nodded, a little uncertain. Of course there would be other frogs — the woods were full of them. But was that what this man did with his spare time? Wandered around in the trees looking for frogs to photograph? To Emilio, who had never been allowed anything without an explicit purpose, it seemed so strange. What did he do with the photos afterwards? Part of Emilio wanted to ask, but he wasn’t sure the answer would clear anything up for him.

He had more important things to worry about, anyway. The guy didn’t seem to be lying about not having seen Alyssa Mullins, though he did seem a little nervous about something. Of course, to be fair, he might just be nervous to be taking photos in a spot where a woman had presumably gone missing. “No one at all? What about wildlife?” Emilio tried to keep his tone casual — less like a detective looking for answers, more like a concerned friend just trying to help. It was harder than it seemed.

Glancing down at his phone for the time, Emilio shrugged. “Just about. She’s real into nature.” From what her friends had told him, it was true. She liked this area for the tree coverage, and the tree coverage was probably what had made it easy for something to sneak up on her and kill her. It might have been sad if it weren’t so damn stupid. “You out here a lot?”

The questions just kept coming, but Chris supposed that was fair considering his friend was missing — if she even was a friend or missing to begin with. For now, he needed to give this guy the benefit of the doubt. At least to keep any suspicion off of himself, but that was a harder game to play than it seemed. Easy, casual tones were difficult for Chris when he was lying. It just didn’t come natural to him.

“Not today, no,” he clarified; this far from the path didn’t see many visitors, at least of the human variety. Sure there were gaggles of teenagers or the odd researcher or two, but it tended to be just him and the trees. “Oh sure. A bunch of squirrels and birds. There was, uh, a deer here earlier.” Chris nodded in the direction that it headed; it spooked him something fierce, but the buck looked like it was on a mission and paid him no mind. “Other than that it’s just been a lot of small animals.”

Chris curled his toes tensely. It was the only thing he could do without looking outwardly uncomfortable. “I am, yeah. What does she look like? There were some people out here two days ago.” Again, not a lie, but having to go along with whatever this was made his stomach knot.

Squirrels, birds, deer. Certainly nothing like what Emilio was looking for. It was hard to determine if the photographer didn’t know that there was more than that out here or if he was simply playing coy about it. Paranoia screamed that it must be the latter — surely no one could be out in these woods as often as this man seemed to be without knowing what lived within the trees? — but Emilio knew the former might very well be true. There were plenty of people who’d lived in Wicked’s Rest all their lives without ever knowing there was more to the world than what they saw on the surface level. It was why people like Alyssa Mullins went into the forest and never came back. Ignorance might be some form of bliss, but it was also incredibly dangerous. A deadly, awful thing.

“What about tracks? You take photos, so you must notice things, ¿sí? Any, uh… trees or leaves not where they should be?” It wasn’t quite what he wanted to ask, but the less you used a word in English, the less likely you were to remember it when you needed it. There was some frustration in his tone, a clear indication that he wasn’t sure how to say what he meant. He shook his head, brow furrowing. “Tracks in the dirt, signs that something bigger than birds or squirrels have come through. That kind of thing.”

Two days ago might have been a little late, considering how long Alyssa had been missing, but if someone were disposing of a body or checking on one they’d gotten rid of recently, it might be a start. It was hard to say whether her disappearance was something sentient or just one of the many hungry things that lived in these woods, after all. Reaching into his pocket, Emilio retrieved the photo Alyssa’s sister had given him. “This is her,” he said, holding it out towards the photographer. “Any information you have, por favor. Never know what might be helpful.”

Chris felt the strong urge to run.

“Oh, actually, yeah,” he started and cycled through the photographs on the current camera. “There were some animal tracks on my way in from the trail. They were pretty big.. Figured I’d save the pics for something. Here..” Chris turned the camera towards the concerned ‘friend’. There were only four shots in total and each one showed off the large size of the footprints. He didn’t know what kind of animal made them, but this wasn’t the first time he’d come across them. He made sure to keep that to himself, however.

“Nothing else that I could see, just the tracks. I didn’t follow them..” a pang of guilt wafted over him. There was nothing he could do about it, now — and as harsh as it sounded, it wasn’t technically his problem to deal with. “I took those last week.”

Chris looked over the young woman in the photograph and pressed his lips together. He felt like he knew her but he couldn’t recall meeting anyone like that. He still felt like he knew her. A creeping feeling crawled up his back as he looked over her face; he started to hand the photograph back to the other man. “I’m sorry, she doesn’t look familiar. She definitely wasn’t with the group a few days ago..”

The photographer came in handy after all. Emilio leaned over the camera, taking note of the tracks. Hard to determine what they might be from on the camera’s screen, but it was clear that they were large. “Can you get me a physical copy of these?” It might mean giving up the ploy of concerned friend, but if it helped him solve his case, it’d be worth it. Alyssa’s friends deserved to know what had happened to her, even if she was currently being digested in something’s stomach.

“No, you were right not to follow them. Not doing anyone any good if you get… hurt too.” Hurt wasn’t the right word, but he wasn’t looking to spook the photographer by admitting that whatever left those tracks was probably doing a whole lot more than hurting people.

He watched the photographer’s face carefully as he looked over the photo. There was something there — a kind of confused familiarity — but it wasn’t much of a surprise when he said he didn’t know her. Odds were good that he was telling the truth, though if he was somehow responsible, he wasn’t going to admit it to a stranger. Emilio knew that. “The group, you think you could describe them to me? Did you hear any names?

“Can you get me a physical copy of these?”

That meant this wouldn’t be a one-off. Chris had to see him again or worse — be accompanied home (the motel was probably the closest form of civilization to where they were and he had a small printer in the room). He didn’t want that. He wanted to just give this guy whatever information he could give, maybe fib a little, and then go home to decompress. Could they do it another day? The thought alone sounded suspicious.

“Um, yeah, sure. How big do you need ‘em?” Most people wouldn’t ask for copies of what could potentially be evidence unless they were filing a police report or were a cop themselves, but this guy didn’t give him the same uncomfortable feeling. No, he made his skin crawl in a different way and he couldn’t tell if it was worse or not.

Chris took note of the pause. Did he know what made the tracks? Something in his gut told him that he might, what with all the strange goings-on in town. As skeptical as Chris was, it was hard not to notice things the longer you stayed. He tried to force each oddity into a logical box, but nothing ever really stuck right. With a swallow, he shook his head in response. “No, but they seemed like college kids, around that age. They were laughing.. I think one of them said something about.. ‘Church’? No.. ‘Temple’. I think it was a temple. But that was about it. Sorry..”

It was clear that the man wasn’t entirely comfortable with the request, but that didn’t matter as much as it probably should have. This man’s discomfort, while unfortunate, was still less important than getting answers. Everything, for Emilio, came second to that. He had a tendency to get a little too involved, from time to time. Javi told him it made him a good detective. He was pretty sure it just made him an idiot.

“Big enough to see the details. As big as you can make them, probably.” He could put them up on the wall in Axis, map out the precise shape of the tracks and go through every beast and monster in his head. Might ask Javi his opinion, too. Maybe even a few other people who might know. Chuck could be a decent bet, or Alan. In all likelihood, Emilio would be able to puzzle it out without an assist, but… there was something kind of nice to have the option of asking other people, at least. He hadn’t had that before.

Before, he’d mostly been stuck with people like this. Helpful, but only as long as it didn’t inconvenience them. At least he wasn’t holding everything back, even if Emilio still suspected that he wasn’t being entirely forthcoming. The new information rolled around in his head, and he furrowed his brow. “Temple?” It could be nothing. Just a few religious kids on a hike in the woods. Or… It could be something dark. In Wicked’s Rest, Emilio was unfortunately inclined to lean towards the latter. “You know of any… temples out here?”

“Do you, uh, want them right away? I have a-” don’t you fucking say it, “-to go somewhere to get these done. I don’t think the one I have at home is going to work.” Chris zoomed in a little on the photo from the display screen. “We can hit up Office Depot on the way in if you want these now. I have an account with them so it’ll take like.. No time.”

Despite having a printer, Chris felt absolutely zero comfort in the idea of being followed back to the motel room. Even though it wouldn’t take anyone any time to find out he was staying there — or really anything about him (despite never being convicted, he had a few arrests on his public record) — he wanted to keep that chance to a minimum.

Chris was just as confused about that as the stranger was. “No. I haven’t seen anything like that,” he shook his head. The only kind of temple he could think of was something akin to the Parthenon, but that was grandiose and he couldn’t think of anything like that hiding out in the woods — but then again, there were a lot of woods and a lot he was sure hadn’t been explored. Maybe there was something out there. Chris looked out into the disappearing treeline and swallowed.

“I don’t think I’d want to, anyway. That sounds kind of creepy.”

Perhaps surprisingly, Emilio wasn’t entirely clueless when it came to photography. He had to know a little for his job, after all, had to be able to take passable photos when clients requested something that needed proof. But he certainly wasn’t up to Chris’s caliber. His own camera was an ancient, half-dead thing, falling apart and just barely this side of functional, but he understood the concepts of it at least. But the development process… That he was less ‘in the know’ about. Javi had volunteered to handle getting photos developed for him towards the beginning of Emilio’s business venture, and the detective had never really looked back. “Sure,” he agreed with a nod. “Better to do it now, I think.” He was pretty sure the photographer would disappear on him otherwise. He seemed the squirrely type.

The photographer’s confusion was authentic enough for Emilio to believe he was telling the truth, at least on this particular subject. There may have been more to his story than he was saying, but when it came to the possibility of a temple in the woods being tied to this case? It was clear the guy was in the dark. That was probably better.

With a huff that could almost be called a laugh, Emilio nodded his head. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Anybody who does their worshiping in the middle of the woods with nobody else around is probably hiding something.” Of course, considering this was coming from a man who assumed everyone was hiding something, it probably didn’t carry much weight.

Now — now was good. That meant they’d get this over with sooner rather than later and that meant he could get back to hiding out in overgrown ferns and catching shots of amphibians. Chris liked people, generally, and he craved interaction with them, but he couldn’t handle it for too long. He started to feel that familiar prickle of discomfort.

“There’s a little photocopier place near the university, we can go there.” They were on the slower side with getting actual film developed, but Chris didn’t feel comfortable in the slightest with bringing some strange man back to the motel room, especially one with questions. He didn’t like to be questioned.

The sound that escaped the other man felt humored enough, but Chris couldn’t let himself ease up. He felt tightly wound despite the friendly expression he wore on his face. There’d been too many experiences similar to this one that ended poorly, he just couldn’t relax — and he was worried that he was being too obvious. He offered his own slight chuckle and shook his head as he removed himself from the small tangle of overgrown grass.

“Reminds me of Children of the Corn, to be honest.” Humor was a great tool for deflection, one that Chris felt like he had mastered at this point in his life. “Well, now that I’m officially freaked out, I’m ready to go.. whenever you are.”

“All right,” he agreed, relaxing a little at the suggestion. Photocopier place near the university meant a public location. Emilio wasn’t afraid of the guy — he knew he could hold his own in most any fight he got into, and he was armed to the damn teeth at any given moment — but he liked to avoid going to secondary locations with strangers when he could. Call it a general rule against being the target of any attempted murders.

The guy worked to get out of the grace, and Emilio took a step back to give him a little extra room. Without meaning to, his mind wandered to categorize weaknesses as the man shifted. Discomfort with social situations — Emilio could relate. Easy enough to use against someone. The clear tension in his muscles would be an easy thing to utilize if he had to.

Stepping aside so the man could lead the way, Emilio furrowed his brow. “I don’t think corn has children. I don’t think it’s called that.” Unless it was some weird American idiom that he’d never learned. There were a lot of those, he was realizing. “I’m ready to go, too, though.”

Chris did prefer to be out in the middle of the woods instead of a potentially people-filled shop (not to mention the school and other shops around it) just in case anything happened (what, he had no idea, he just knew it was bad). But being in public just meant he needed to be quick - and hoped the checkout clerk was quick, too.

If anything felt off he'd need to cut things short which just made him look suspicious - especially since this guy was looking for someone. Running away would be downright suspect. He loathed the public location, but there wasn't any other option.

Chris snorted instead of the full laugh he held back. "No, uh.. Children of the Corn is a movie," he chuckled, grateful for the slight tension reliever. "It's about a cult, so I thought it was kind of relevant," he explained as he started off, though slowed to try to keep pace with his company. He didn't feel entirely comfortable with him behind him.

A movie. Right. Emilio had never realized just how often people made references to shit like that before leaving Mexico. In Etla, he’d mostly only interacted with other hunters. His siblings, his mother, his uncle, the various hunters they met in bars or at camp. The only real exception had been Vida, and his mother had loathed that particular friendship. All his life, he’d run in social circles so small that there were many, many things he’d never learned.

It seemed cruel, in a way, that the only real method of learning those things had to start with a massacre that left him too desolate to really grasp them. Children of the Corn was a movie about a cult, and he’d forget that the moment he and this man parted ways. His mind was so busy holding on to the smell of blood in the air and the sticky feeling of it under his feet that it let go of things like fun facts and pop culture the moment they were out of sight.

“Know of any cults in town?” Did that count as small talk? They had to talk about something as they made their way back towards town, otherwise things would get awkward fast. And talking about movies was a no go; Emilio had never successfully sat through one. But he knew about cults. Just a thing or two, but enough to keep the conversation moving.

Sure they were sort of already on the subject of cults, but Chris expected at least a nugget of more movie talk. Maybe a breath, a crumb even — no, that branch was bypassed entirely and instead they started to traverse the rickety path of cults. Thankfully, he didn’t know of any in town (at least, none that he was aware of), but he’d come across one or two in the past. Part of him wondered if his dad had cult connections.

The trail started to even itself as they continued back out of the park, but the trees stayed dense. The uneasiness that came earlier started to wane the longer Chris spent with the stranger, a nice reprieve.

“Uh,” came Chris’ immediate reply, but it was followed closely by a “no, I don’t.” He shook his head before offering a shrug. “At least, I don’t think I do. I’m pretty sure I’d know a cult if I saw one, though..” Would he? The ones he was familiar with were sort of cookie cutter — they were almost too perfectly cult-like. It was hard to explain, but Chris hoped he’d never come across one again. “Do you know of any cults around here?”

He hadn’t really expected the guy to know much about the local cults, but it was still a little disappointing to hear that he didn’t. Maybe Emilio had hoped that if he was hanging out in the woods, he’d be smart enough to look into what might be hanging out in the woods alongside him. And that was probably on him. Hoping that anyone who hung out alone in the woods of Wicked’s Rest was anything resembling smart was hoping for far, far too much.

“Ah, some of them look different,” he replied, shrugging a shoulder. In all honesty, he didn’t have a lot of experience with cults. They were a human problem, something for the local law enforcement to deal with instead of the hunters who worried about more supernatural threats. But he knew a thing or two about clans, and those weren’t entirely unrelated.

And there was the Wynne of it all, too. Emilio thought of them now, of what they’d told him. A cult that sacrificed kids to a demon, that would have sacrificed Wynne if they hadn’t run. “I know of some,” he shrugged again. Wynne’s family. Maybe Zane’s clan, too, though he’d be hard pressed to convince the damn vampire to admit it. There were definitely more than that, too.

‘Ah, some of them look different.’ That was the whole point, wasn’t it? Chris had, hesitantly, tiptoed into a documentary about a cult once before. He had to turn it off after a good few minutes as it felt too close to home, but that was their whole shtick — they wanted people to blindly follow, to become slaves to whatever fucked up agenda they could come up with and they would package it in whatever wrapping paper was the prettiest. Anything to get bodies.

“Well.. sure, but.. they all kind of work the same right? It’s just a whole lot of kool-aid drinking, anyway.” Chris didn’t think he would ever fall for a cult’s tricks, or if he even could. He held a lot of skepticism in his everyday life, so much so that it became detrimental (but he wouldn’t know about any of that, now would he?). The trees finally thinned out and rough pathway became more trodden; the faint sound of a person or two erupted through the wind. Civilization grew close, but the walk felt like an eternity. How far had he gone? Chris didn’t think he had ventured too far, but he did have a tendency to lose himself behind the camera lens.

“What? You’re serious? There are actual cults here?” Despite his verbal surprise, Chris believed him. He had only been in the city for a handful of months at this point and already he could tell the place was weird. The trail gave way to more people just looking for some exercise among nature. While Chris had never been a fan of being around people, he was glad to see more of them. His company wasn’t awful, but he didn’t think he could stand being alone with him for too much longer.

“Oh, uh… Did you drive here? I’ve got a rental, but I don’t know if you wanted to share a ride or not.” God he hoped he didn’t. He hoped to everything he didn’t believe in that he didn’t want to share. If it came down it, so be it, but his nerves were shot to hell already.

“Kool-aid?” Emilio wasn’t sure what the term meant, but he wasn’t sure how much it mattered. Maybe the guy was right — cults might all worship different things and look different, but their methodology had similarities, didn’t it? Bring people in, make them believe something was true so adamantly that they’d kill and die for it. Tell them your way of life was the only way of life, and that anyone who said anything else was just plain wrong. Make them rely on you, make sure they didn’t trust anyone outside your demographic.

(The thought was strangely jarring. He pushed it from his mind, not liking the idea of thinking on it too long.)

The town grew nearer, though Emilio found no more comfort in the familiar buildings than he did in the uncertainty of the treeline. You could die in the woods. You could die on the streets of your hometown. You could die in your own living room floor. The presence of other people, for Emilio, didn’t represent any kind of safety.

Glancing over to the man, Emilio studied his face for a moment, trying to determine if he was serious. “You been here long?” There were cults all over this damn town, though some of them called themselves different things. Churches, clans, groups. They all amounted to the same thing, more or less.

“Walked,” he replied with a shrug. He shouldn’t have, given the piss poor shape his leg was in on days when he didn’t push it past its limit, but Emilio was a stubborn ass. Never liked being told what not to do, even by his own body. “You give me a ride to get the photos developed, and I can walk home from there.”

“Yeah,” he returned, though felt the need to explain when he noticed the confusion. “Oh, uh. I’m kind of hazy on the details but some cult made their people drink poison laced kool-aid. They all kind of just.. Blindly followed it, so it’s been a saying ever since it happened.” Chris grew quiet. “It’s kind of fucked up..” Truthfully, he didn’t know if he wanted to keep talking about it, especially with a stranger he’d just met in the woods. The odd situation didn’t pass him, but he supposed he’d been in the middle of worse.

“Maybe a few months now, but no, not long.” The question didn’t outright concern Chris, but it did make him think that maybe he should have crossed paths with a cult or two the minute he’d passed over state lines. “... I’m gonna take that as a yes. I guess if someone starts offering me Kool-Aid I should just... run in the opposite direction? Sorry.. Bad joke.”

He walked, of course he did. And he needed a ride there. Of course he did. Was there someone out there listening in on Chris’ thoughts? It all felt too punishing, like it was being done on purpose. Still, he would grin and bear it. He didn’t want to make waves, not when he’d just gotten there. “Oh, okay. You- Sure. That sounds like a plan to me.” He stopped himself from asking if the other man was sure about walking to wherever he was going to go after the pictures were developed. Part of him wanted to help further, to at least make sure he got home alright, but that meant spending even longer with him and Chris had nothing left to give. It was better this way.

“I’m right at the end there,” Chris pointed to a boring, silver Ford Focus that was sat by its lonesome at the very end once they’d reached the parking lot. Pine needles littered the broken asphalt.

It sounded ridiculous, the idea of trusting someone enough to blindly accept a glass of poison. If Emilio were capable — or, more likely, willing — to think on it for more than a fraction of a second, he might be able to see the comparisons to the way he’d been conditioned to not just accept that he’d die a brutal death at the end of a short life from the time he was a child, but to want it. A more introspective man may have been able to connect a few more dots than Emilio did now, but for him? It just wasn’t possible. He’d defined himself by the loss of his family. He couldn’t allow himself to think on the flaws they’d shown in life. So rather than comment on any of it, he shrugged. “I don’t know what Kool-Aid is.”

A few months. Maybe not quite long enough to grow used to the oddities of Wicked’s Rest, then. Emilio shrugged. “Yeah. Probably should.” He waved off the apology, shaking his head. “Don’t have to be sorry. I like bad jokes.” Even if this one in particular left a strange pit in his stomach, even if he still couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was about that story with the Kool-Aid that had upset him so jarringly.

It was clear that the guy didn’t want to give him a ride, which only made Emilio want to push further. He’d blame it on being a detective, but he’d been like this since long before he’d decided to give private investigation a try. He liked to poke at things, liked to know everything about a situation or a person once he’d locked on to it. He always had. That hadn’t changed, even when everything else did. “Appreciate it, man.” He followed the man to his car, taking note of the make and model. Would he use the information later? Probably not. But it was good to know, wasn’t it?

Pulling open the door, Emilio climbed into the passenger’s side. “All right,” he said, “let’s go.”

First Children of the Corn, then Kool-Aid — if he wasn’t so uncomfortable, Chris would have laughed. And he did allow himself to, though the sound was nothing more than the idea of it. It was small and eagerly replaced with a slight cough, a skill he’d picked up after those many years of dealing with his father. “Um. It’s a powder you mix into water. It’s really sweet.. Too sweet, in my opinion.” Kool-aid really wasn’t that important, but the mundane subject was much more preferable over a missing person.

“That’s good, then. There’ll probably be one more before we get to the store, just a warning,” Chris returned in jest. Jokes, including the bad ones, which were more often than not, became a good coping mechanism. They were trigger jokes, the ones that tended to just fumble out at the most impromptu moments. It wasn’t so bad now and besides, his company took it pretty well. A lot of the time, Chris didn’t get that lucky.

Speaking of his company, there was something that dawned on him the moment they’d gotten into the car and the doors were shut. “Oh, uh, I’m Chris, by the way,” he started as he slipped the key into the ignition. He wasn’t a big fan of handshakes, or really any physical contact that wasn’t absolutely necessary. He would take his, though, if he offered. This situation, as benign as it looked, felt necessary. It could just be his anxiety, though, and he was awfully aware of it.

“That sounds disgusting.” Who wanted powder in their water? There were a lot of things Emilio hadn’t been taught. It was natural, for a hunter. Why teach him about a world he wouldn’t be a part of? Why give him lessons he’d never use? He was more weapon than person, and weapons had no need to know about things like ‘Kool Aid’ or Children of the Corn. And, in moments like this one, with this explanation settling in his ribs, he didn’t think he’d missed out on much. If being a person meant putting powder in water to make it sweet, he’d rather be a knife.

Huffing a quiet laugh, Emilio nodded his head. Sure. More bad jokes. He could handle that. He’d been reliably informed that none of his jokes were particularly funny, either, so maybe if he laughed at this guy, this guy would laugh at him. Give and take, back and forth. He wasn’t great at that, but he could manage it every now and then.

Oh. Right. Introductions. Manners, apparently, were another thing Emilio wasn’t exactly good at. “Emilio,” he replied simply. He made no move to reach out for a handshake, settling on a vague nod instead. He had no desire to touch a stranger’s hand. Especially not some guy who’d been wandering around in the woods. “You can turn on the radio if you want, Chris. Won’t bother me.”

“Yeah.. It’s not the best.” It was great when he was younger, but now? Chris didn’t get much of the appeal. Granted, it was one of the few drinks they could get other than water since it was so cheap. He didn’t think he could drink a whole glass of it anymore. “The commercials were pretty funny, though.” He briefly explained about the pitcher full of the drink called the “Kool-Aid Man” and how it would bust through walls whenever someone wanted, well, Kool-Aid. It felt stupid the moment Chris verbalized it, but the entire interaction had been unusual from the start, so why stop there?

“Nice to meet you.” Was it? Eh. If it weren’t for him, Chris would still be in the bushes with his camera lens against the dirt and ferns. But he wasn’t as bad as he thought he might be, what with that warning upon first meeting. The tone, and even words, were familiar. He was glad it turned out better than what his personal history liked to say. “Okay. Thanks..” Good, he didn’t really feel all too eager to sit in silence even though the ride likely wouldn’t take too long. It was a straight shot out of the Pines and into the rest of civilization.

After they’d pulled out of the parking space and out of the park itself, Chris turned on the radio and tuned it to the local eighties station. Not his decade, but it was better than some of the new stuff that was being churned out. A beat came after the song Separate Ways by Journey and then Chris asked: “How long has she been missing? If you don’t mind me asking?”

The drink sounded disgusting and unlike anything Emilio would ever willingly buy (it couldn’t even get you drunk), but as Chris explained the commercials for it, he could recognize some appeal. A giant pitcher of Kool-Aid bursting through a wall the moment it was referenced was outlandish and stupid and exactly the sort of thing Emilio Cortez would find very funny. It was the destruction, he thought; there was something comforting in it, in a strange sort of way. He understood that far better than he understood pouring sugary powder into water to turn it into something it wasn’t.

“Sure,” he agreed, though he wasn’t sure it was true. He wasn’t a very good person to meet, most of the time. He’d pulled Chris away from the day he’d had planned for himself, and he didn’t really regret it, would do it again if asked. Chris’s convenience didn’t come second, or even third to Emilio. It was, instead, very far down the list. “Yeah. No problem.”

The sound of unfamiliar music filled the car, and while Emilio was content to sit with it, Chris seemed more interested in conversation. Talking was hardly the detective’s strong suit, but he could manage it if he tried. “A week,” he replied, shifting in his seat a little. He turned his head to look out the window, though not so much that he couldn’t keep Chris at the edge of his vision. The picture of paranoia, Emilio preferred a position where he could both mark his surroundings and maintain an idea of where he was going while still keeping an eye on the man behind the steering wheel. “Been looking, but… It’s hard to hold on to hope.” That much was true, even if Emilio wasn’t looking for a ‘friend’ the way he’d led Chris to believe he was.

Chris didn’t think this was how his day was going to go. He thought he would spend most of it in the park and the woods with lots of photos saved on his camera roll. Maybe have a shower and watch something on his laptop since the only movies available on the motel television were horror movies and those were not ideal in the slightest. He thought he would spend the whole day with himself and the various little critters that littered the woods floor — instead he sat in the rental car with a stranger who was on the lookout for a missing person and talked about fucking Kool-Aid.

Everyone said weird things happened in Wicked’s Rest, and Chris had definitely stumbled upon his fair share (most of which he tried to explain away), but this was probably the weirdest so far.

While the situation wasn’t ideal, he could at least appreciate how quickly Emilio seemed to reel in his original and immediate reaction to stumbling across someone, who was potentially suspected to know where his missing woman was, fumbling around in the bushes. Most people in his shoes would have kept to the offensive, which would have ended in a bad time all around. That level-headedness was how Chris wished everyone reacted to him, but that was a perfect, preferred world and this was not that.

A week. A week the woman had been missing. God, that must be excruciating. It was one thing to know a family member or friend was dead, it was another to wonder if they were even still alive. He couldn’t imagine the torment her family must be going through. Chris frowned, but he kept his eyes on the road. “I’m sorry.. I know it’s not my fault, but.. still. I hope the pictures can help.”

Did that make him look suspicious? That’s what they all said, wasn’t it? ‘I didn’t do it, it’s not my fault’ — ‘I’m sorry’ tended to be an awkward knee-jerk reaction in most situations, especially when the apology came from someone not at fault. Chris just couldn’t help it. He was grateful, also, for the sight of the strip where the small printing shop sat. That meant their slightly unusual, slightly awkward conversation would hopefully come to a close.

For a moment, he forgot that he’d approached the man as a friend of the missing woman rather than a detective investigating the case. He almost felt bad about it now, given how… sympathetic Chris was about the whole thing. Like he genuinely was sorry that Emilio’s ‘friend’ was missing, like he really wanted to do everything he could to help find them. It didn’t feel great, considering the fact that Emilio was lying, but… reactions like this were why he lied about this sort of thing to begin with.

People met a detective, even a PI with no form of ‘power’ over anyone, and they were on edge. They were nervous, they were uncomfortable. They lied without meaning to, without reason. They tried to cover up things that were irrelevant just to keep themselves from being seen. It was annoying, because Emilio rarely cared about things he wasn’t investigating unless someone was being hurt because of it. And it was inconvenient, because it forced him to sort through lies that were relevant and lies that weren’t just to land on the truth of the matter at hand. It was better to cover up his true intentions, better to lie about who he was and pretend to be a concerned friend instead of a hired detective.

But it still made him feel like shit sometimes.

“Yeah, no worries, man. I appreciate your help. Maybe the photos will do some good.” If nothing else, they’d give Emilio a better lay of the land. His cases took him into the woods often, as did his ‘night job,’ but a lot of that time was spent running or chasing or fighting. Having a static image to look at might come in handy.

“It’s no problem. I.. Yeah, I hope so, too,” went Chris’ reply. He genuinely did hope that something positive would come out of this, even if it might be too late for her. He recalled back to when his own sister had… disappeared. He was blamed for it, and after they found her mangled body in the woods, he was blamed again. If he could help, just a little, his initial trepidation and fear for the stranger and, hell, situation, would be worth it. Most of the time, his photography made people happy, inspired — maybe he could help to give someone closure.

A curt squeal erupted from the vehicle’s brakes when Chris pulled into an open parking spot. Although he was happy to help, he could feel that small bout of excitement when he knew he was close to getting some alone time. Just a few more moments and his good deed would be done for the day.

Chris grabbed his bag, waited for Emilio to join him on the sidewalk, and then headed into the office supply store. Usually he utilized the self-serve machines — this time was no different, and honestly? It was probably going to be faster. Though there weren’t many people inside, he had a feeling the clerk behind the register wasn’t up to snuff just judging by the way his attention was glued to the cellphone in his hands.

With a brief purse of his lips, Chris made a beeline for the self-serve area and started to unload the camera in question like he always did. Memory card, card reader, printer. Once the reader was in, it was only a matter of what buttons to press and which photos to choose. “I know you said you wanted the one, but were there any others that you wanted me to print out?”

His trip to the woods might not have given him exactly what he needed, but at least it wouldn’t be entirely wasted. Getting something out of the trip was far better than being empty-handed. It might not make or break the case, but it did stand to get Emilio a step or two forward. He followed Chris into the store, eyes darting around as they entered. Absently, he cataloged threats. Clerk looking this way. Guy in aisle three looked up when the door opened. Lady walking to the register has a big bag, could have a weapon. It was a useless paranoia, he knew; none of the ‘threats’ were legitimate. But Emilio couldn’t stop the train of thought, either.

“Whatever you think might be useful,” he replied with a shrug, dragging his eyes back to Chris. “Wide shots, anything with people in the area. Especially people you think you ran into more than once.” Anyone who spent a lot of time in the woods was a suspect… even Chris himself, though the conversation had lowered his name down the ranks of the detective’s list.

He watched as the photos printed, a little intrigued. When they finished, he took them from the tray and held them up. “Appreciate it, man. I can walk home from here. Sorry to… mess with your day, or whatever.”

Whatever you think might be useful. Chris looked through the reel and gave a peruse over the photos that surrounded the one Emilio was after. He picked a few that might help with the lead up or give any environment cues, any other hints of what might have happened — or what kind of creature the prints belonged to.

They were warm when they came out, but they looked good from where Chris could tell. While he was glad he could help and that this turned out a lot better than he anticipated, he was still so ready to go home and decompress. A little voice in the back of his head had to wonder if there might be a follow-up, but he didn’t dread the idea of that as much as he would have.

“Okay, if you’re sure...” Something told Chris his mind was made up already. “It’s.. no problem, really. I’m happy to help. I hope you find her…” He pressed his lips together uncertainly. “Take it easy,” went the goodbye when the other man finally left with his prize.

Chris nearly left, as well, until he realized he still needed to pay for the prints.

He sighed. At least it was over with?

#thread #tr: emilio c #tr: [ unusual suspects ]

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