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btsgotjams27 · 2 months

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things you didn't say | jjk

summary: with the recent interactions with jungkook, you try to downplay your feelings, but your friends encourage you to acknowledge your past and move forward.

✨ title: things you didn't say | tydk couple ✨ pairing: jungkook x f!reader ✨ genre/au: angst | ex-best friends to friends/lovers(?) ✨ rating: R/18+ | ✨ word count: 7.3k | ✨ playlist ✨ warnings: minor language, lana threatens oc with a fork, drinking, game of truth or dare, confessions, kissing ✨ a/n: hii--i'm sorry i've been a bit MIA in regards to writing. it's been such a struggle to get anything written. i've been thinking a lot about these two and i hope this last part gives us all some kind of resolution. enjoy. (and there's a small nod to something that'll happen in a different jk wip i'm working on hehe). and if you haven't read part one or two, please do so before reading this part.

✨ read part one | read part two ✨

The clock is nearly midnight, and you’re not ready for the magic to disappear.

All night, you’ve kept your heart at bay, questioning every move and word being spoken. Only you can see it, but a dark cloud is looming over you. Doubts linger like a predator waiting to pounce and take its prey. You want to avoid getting it wrong or being let down.

And your heart is the ultimate betrayer, but it doesn’t lie.

You’re caught up in sentimental memories from the past. His nose scrunches and boisterous cackles are reminiscent of the boy you remember. Hanging out and reliving past adventures felt like no time had passed, yet life updates from then to now made him feel like a stranger.

Giggles and claps, along with snorts and dribbles of wine, glide down the side of your mouth. The third wine bottle is on its way to being destroyed by the pair of you.

He’s careful to avoid the subject of Josie, for which you are grateful. If you could be honest, you would ask him why he was still with her and what he saw in her. But it’s not your place, nor are you in the position to pry.

Your eyes fall on the plants sitting on the corner shelf in the dining area—an array of pothos, snake, and rubber plants. They’re your typical plants, but it’s the planters that they’re sitting in that make you smile. The planters have stubby arms and legs with smiley faces.

Jungkook follows your gaze. “What are we looking at?”

You point to the planters. “Those little guys. They’re cute.”

“Thanks,” Jungkook says. “I made them.”

“The planters or the plants?”

He swirls his wine glass, letting out a small laugh. “The planters.”

“You made those planters?” You stand, walking over to them.

“When I get bored, I try new creative outlets and ceramics was one of them,” he says, taking a sip of wine.

“Wow, you have a knack for things like that, huh?” You pick up a planter, inspecting it before setting it down. “You could open up your own Etsy shop or something. People would buy these in a heartbeat.”

“Eh, I suppose. I just like doing things with my hands. It makes me feel useful.” Jungkook shrugs. He watches your every move as you continue eyeing the different ceramic pieces he’s made: vases, candleholders, etc. “Do you think people would buy the things I make?”

You lift a coiled vase, turning to him. “Are you kidding me? People would eat this shit up. Once your pieces sell like hotcakes on Etsy, Urban Outfitters will slide in your DMs.” You’re not surprised Jungkook easily excelled at something like ceramics. He’s always been talented at anything he picks up.

“And you were good at anything creative when we were in school—art class, wood shop. I would’ve failed wood shop if you didn’t help me finish my project.”

“Yeah, your birdhouse was fucking terrible.”

You scoff, walking toward him, playfully shoving his shoulder. “It wasn’t that bad.”

He deadpans. “Even birds would avoid your birdhouse.”

“Shut up! I tried my hardest.”

“Didn’t try hard enough,” he teases, his eyes crinkling at the corners with a grin on his face.

The pair of you continue to bicker about nothing, but the constant buzzes of notifications from his phone are hard to ignore. You’d catch Jungkook peering, tapping his fingers, debating if he should reply.

You sip from the bottle of dessert wine, you find it sweet and refreshing on your lips. “If you need to get that, then don’t let me stop you.”

Jungkook lifts his phone. “Nah—it’s nothing,” he protests before his phone vibrates in his hand. He glances at the illuminated screen and he finally picks it up. “Sorry, let me answer this. I’ll be right back.”

He hurries out of the kitchen and into the darkened living room. You can only hear Jungkook’s stern, hushed voice, but you can’t make anything out. His change in demeanor hints at one person, and it’s Josie. Which meant it was your cue to leave. You’ve overstayed your welcome.

You raise your wine glass, gulping the golden honey peach Moscato. Thank goodness they’re easy to guzzle. A drop runs down the side of your mouth, and you swipe it away as Jungkook walks back in.

“I’m so sorry about that.”

“Hmm? Oh—don’t worry about it. I, um, I’ve probably overstayed my welcome, so I should get going.”

“What? No, stay. We have to finish our Moscato.”

A nervous chuckle leaves your lips as you contemplate his proposition. There’s a tug in your heart, wanting to stay into the early hours of the morning, but there’s your brain telling you to take it slow and go home.

“I wish I could stay, but I should head home. I have a load of laundry to fold and sadly, it won’t fold itself.” You stand up from the bar chair, feeling a bit wobbly on your feet. Jungkook rushes to your side, gripping your waist, but you catch yourself by holding onto the counter.

“You can’t hold your liquor?” He asks with a wide grin, pulling you upright.

Clearing your throat and flattening down your jeans, you spit out, “Ha-ha. I can hold my liquor just fine. I merely tripped.”

Jungkook chuckles. “You’re a terrible liar—see, I still remember that.”

You gasp sharply, with a hand over your chest. “I’m surprised that big ‘ol head of yours can remember anything. I thought it was only filled with games and girls.” Sticking out your tongue, you conk him on the head with your knuckles.

“Ow.” He rubs the spot as if you had knocked him with a bat.

Taking out your phone from your pocket, you pull up Uber.

“Let me take you home, at least.”

You give him a look, slowly blinking your eyes at the devilishly handsome friend. Could you even call him a friend again? Maybe it was too early for that.

“Did you forget that we both had too much to drink tonight? So, you shouldn’t be driving me. It’s fine, Kook. I’ll get an Uber.”

Jungkook sighs, knowing he can’t convince you otherwise. “Fine. I’ll wait with you outside until it gets here.”

“Well, it’s not like I can stop you.”

The pair of you are sitting on his front steps, watching cars drive by and cats strolling through the neighborhood. His place is in a newer part of town, one that was built while you were away. It’s familiar and odd, just like you and Jungkook. As much as you want to forget the past and move on, there’s a part of you holding onto what the two of you had. Would you ever become best friends again? Would you even consider letting him be a part of your life? Those were questions for another time, but it felt like you had your best friend back, even if it was just for tonight.

As the alcohol in your system dwindles, the brain fog becomes clearer, along with your hearing. A nudge from Jungkook makes you come back to reality. “Hmm?”

“I asked, ‘Do you still go stargazing’?” He chuckles, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I do, but the spot I went to during college isn’t as good as the one we used to go to.”

Jungkook hums, avoiding your gaze as he picks up a small pebble from the ground. “We should go there sometime,” he mumbles under his breath. He continues toying with the pebble before throwing it into the bushes.

You’re trying to suppress a smile and swat away the butterflies growing in your stomach. It’s dumb to think things could go back to the way they were. It’s unrealistic and you don’t want to get hurt again.

Turning toward him, you want to set the record straight. “Let’s um, take this whole friendship thing slow, Kook. Dinner was great. It was nice talking to you again, but you do understand where I’m coming from, right?”

He nibbles on his bottom lip and nods. “I’ll follow your lead.”

You check your phone again. The Uber is two minutes away. As you click it off, you turn and see Jungkook staring. Something is brewing behind those starry eyes. With a raised brow, you ask, “What?”

“Can I call or text you sometime?”

“Just don’t, uh, go texting me all day and night. Your girlfriend might get jealous. Might even put a bounty on my head,” you tease, reaching to pull his black CK cap over his face.

He takes his cap off, carding his hand through his hair before placing it back on his head. As you’re immersed in your phone and looking up at the street for your Uber, Jungkook silently observes you like has for the past few years. Some might say it’s a red flag, but how else was he supposed to know if you were happy? That’s all he’s ever wanted—for you to be happy, loved, and have all your dreams come true, even though he wasn’t there to cheer you on. For seven years, he has been tormented by what he did, and he didn't want to jeopardize any possibility of any kind of relationship with you. It doesn’t even have to be like before, just as long as the two of you are on speaking terms. He could live with that.

A dark sedan pulls up alongside the pair of you. You grab the door handle, pause for a moment, then turn back to Jungkook. “We’ll talk soon?” He raises both eyebrows and hums softly, giving a thin smile. “Bye, Kook.”

Two weeks passed, and there was no text or call from Jungkook. Plenty of thoughts ran through your mind, the number one being Josie had found out about your little dinner and locked him in a basement, cutting off all contact with the outside world—especially if it was with you.

But you’re a big girl. Why should you be waiting around to hear from him, anyway?

If there’s one thing you hate about adulting, it’s cooking. You missed the days when you were in your angsty teen phase, headphones in, and hating the world, then your parents would yell ‘Dinner’s ready’. And as much as you missed home-cooked meals, you loved that your parents were off gallivanting around the world, living their retirement dreams. One day that’ll be you, living off your retirement and eating out 24/7, but for now, there’s a decision to be made about what will go in your salad for the week.

Cucumbers.

Strolling in the veggie section, your eyes scan for the green vegetables before landing on them. You stood debating on which one to get. Why are there so many varieties? But according to Google, Persian cucumbers go great in salads.

As you grabbed a second cucumber, you looked up to see the man who betrayed your trust. And no—it wasn’t Jungkook. It was his roommate, Jimin, aka ‘the trickster’.

With a stomp in your step and a cucumber in your hand, you march over to him, striking him on the shoulder with it.

“Ow!” Jimin exclaims, rubbing his shoulder as he turns around. His brows furrowed, lips in a full pout when he finds you standing behind him. “What the hell?” He looks to see the weapon in your hand. “Did you just hit me with a cucumber?” You hum. “Why’d you do that?”

Tossing the cucumber in your basket and crossing your arms, you huff out, “Because you deserved it!”

“Deserve what?”

You roll your eyes at the not-so-innocent man. Was he trying to play Cupid or something with you and Jungkook?…Because his stupid plan kind of worked. You truly had a great time at dinner, and it was nostalgic, just like how things used to be.

“Mmhm. Count your days, Park,” you quip, turning around to head in the other direction. Jimin’s calling after you to wait for him, but you keep on walking.

As he catches up, standing beside you, he nudges your arm. “Oh, come on. I was just trying to help a friend out,” he finally admits.

“Well, don’t.”

Jimin strides in front of you, stopping you in your tracks. “Hey—” You attempt to go around him, but he’s unrelenting. “Just hear me out, okay?” You sigh, waving for him to continue. “I’m sorry I ambushed you, but it was the only way you’d hang out with Jungkook. I know the two of you had shit go down in the past, and I just wanted to help you both move on to being friends again.”

“Why does it matter to you?”

“Because,” he pauses and straightens his back with his chin up. “I like you and I like Jungkook, and who wouldn’t want to see their friends be happy, hmm?”

Jungkook’s laughter echoed in your mind. You knew it was dumb to miss something as simple as a laugh, but you had heard it for so many years, and then it stopped for a long time. It felt nice to have a piece of an old friend back.

Jimin gives you a look and a grin sweeps across his face. There’s a satisfaction behind that grin and you wish you could wipe off.

“You’re lucky you’re cute, Park Jimin,” you say, stepping off to the side as a customer rolls by with their cart through the two of you.

He laughs, showing off his pearly whites. “I should check out and head off—don’t want you to start getting any ideas and start a food fight here in the grocery store.”

“Yeah, you should run.” You pretend to grab the cucumber and watch him run off to self-checkout.

A buzz from your back pocket alerts you of a notification and, to your surprise, it’s a text from Jungkook. It looks like he hadn’t forgotten about you.

Jungkook 1:34 PM Hey. I’m throwing a small dinner for Jimin’s birthday on Friday at 7 pm. Say you’ll come.

You 1:35 PM Define small.

Incoming Call Jungkook

“If I come and it’s a big party like last time, then count me out.”

“Hello to you, too.”

“Right—hey. No, but seriously. I’m not a big crowd kinda gal.”

“Including me and you, there would only be six people. That’s not a lot, right?”

It’s not, but you’ll have to save your social battery for the dinner party.

“No, yeah, that’s fine.”

“And don’t worry, you know everyone—Lana’s going too.”

The big question is: will Josie be there?

A beat passes and you realize you’re standing in the middle of an aisle, probably blocking someone’s way.

Jungkook’s voice comes through your phone, calling your name a few times. “Hello? Hey. Are you still there?”

You turn to make sure no one’s around. “Yeah, sorry. I’m still here. Is, um, ‘who-shall-not-be-named’ coming?” You ask, nibbling on the inside of your cheek. It’s a name for fuck’s sake, but you can’t bring yourself to say it.

He chuckles at your subtle attempt to avoid the Josie topic. “I can promise you that she’s not coming. Is that why you’re hesitant to say yes?”

“Pfft–what! No!” you blurt out, lying through your teeth. Truth be told—yeah, it is. You don’t want a repeat of Jimin’s party.

You clear your throat, “Anyway, yeah, I’ll come. Count me in.”

“Cool! See you on Friday.”

“Can I bring anything?”

“Nope–just yourself. Oh, and it’s a surprise, so don’t say anything to Jimin.”

“‘Kay…sounds good. I’ll see you Friday.”

“Can’t wait to see you,” he said with enthusiasm before hanging up.

As you’re mixing the salad, you’re staring absent-mindedly at the abstract painting that’s framed on your wall because those five words rang in your ears on the drive home.

You mumbled those words in different tones, trying to make sense of the innocent expression. It’s completely normal for Jungkook to be excited. He hasn’t seen/hung out/talked to you in almost seven years. Yeah, that’s it—at least it’s what you’re telling yourself.

Lana waves her hand in your face. “Um, hello! I don’t think you can mix the salad anymore!”

Looking down, a few springs of leaves have been tossed out of the bowl and onto the counter. Oops. You pick them up, throwing them in the garbage bin. “Sorry—I was distracted.”

“Clearly.”

As you push the bowl aside, your focus is on the unopened bottle of wine.

“Are you going to tell me what’s distracting you, or should I wait until the wine settles in?”

“You can wait until the wine settles in. It’ll give me time to forget about it.”

Lana picks up a fork, threatening you with it. “I swear to god if you don’t tell me—”

“Okay, okay. The other day, Jungkook called to invite me to Jimin’s dinner party.” Lana narrows her eyes and hums, intently listening. “At the end of our conversation, he said, ‘Can’t wait to see you’, and he seemed excited.”

She nods her head, waiting for the rest of the story, but you don’t say anything else. “That’s it? God–that’s so boring. I thought you guys kissed or something.”

“Lana!” you cry out, almost knocking over the wine bottle.

“What? I thought he would’ve made his move by now.”

You roll your eyes. “There’s no move to make. He’s with Josie, remember?”

“Josie Schmosie—she’s old news, but you,” she points and grins, “You’re back and here to fuck things up,” she claps with a gleeful smile.

“Oh, will you stop it? I’m not back to do anything—and what the hell, Lana? You’re not helping!”

Lana chortles, covering her mouth. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m sure what Jungkook said to you is just a simple expression of how much he can’t wait to see you and get you underneath his sheets.”

You sigh, shaking your head. “I don’t even know why I bothered you with this.”

“Okay, I’ll stop. I promise—just kidding. Can I ask one more thing?” You wave your hand for her to continue. “You’re telling me you don’t even want to revel in the idea of the two of you being something more than just friends?”

The iciness of the tiled counter becomes apparent underneath your fingers, and you’re faced with a question you never wanted to answer—aloud, at least. Considering that he’s tried breaking up with Josie multiple times, but somehow is still with her, you’re unsure what will push Jungkook to cut off the head of the snake.

You hate that Jeon Jungkook has been—scratch that—is your Roman empire. He’s the one thing you’ve come back to even when you didn’t want to. It’s the same three questions you’ve had: Is he okay, is he happy, does he miss you too?

And if you’re completely honest, the answer is yes. Of course, you’ve reveled in the idea of you and him.

“I don’t know, Lana. I mean yes—the thought has crossed my mind. I’ve liked him since senior year, but it takes two to tango, and Jungkook can’t do that right now. Besides, I won’t wait around for him to come to his senses.”

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me, that’s the expression, isn’t it?

You can’t imagine going through another heartbreak from the same boy.

Things happen in life that don’t make sense.

Especially for the price of a pair of earrings, you’re currently looking to purchase as Jimin’s birthday present. The sales associate senses your hesitation and brings out a similar pair that’s on sale.

“Ah—that’s more like it. I’ll take those and do you still provide gift wrapping?” you ask, looking at the sign you saw on the way in.

“Yes, we do. Let me go into the back and wrap it up for you.”

The associate disappears through the back door, probably to talk shit about you to their co-workers, but hey–a girl has to save money where she can. It’s a fragile economy.

You roam, looking through the display cases of bracelets, rings, and watches. A gold Casio watch catches your eye–it looks like one Jungkook used to wear. He treasured the vintage-looking watch because it was his father’s. Come to think of it, you haven’t seen him with it when you saw him. Maybe he lost it or replaced it with something else.

Either way, you continue eyeing pieces of jewelry you’ll never purchase for yourself, and it’s when you look up to catch a glimpse of a girl you recognize. But it’s the man marking her neck that isn’t your ex-best friend. You’ve locked eyes with which she-who-must-not-be-named, and maybe it’s not too late to pretend you didn’t see her.

The sales associate returns the wrapped gift along with your credit card. You quickly thank her, looping your arm through the gift bag. Your eyes scan everything in view to see if the coast is clear. There’s no sign of your enemy, so you dart out of the store only to find Josie and this mystery man looking at the window display at the neighboring boutique.

Fuck, just go on your way and don’t engage. Don’t engage! You say to yourself, swiftly walking past them.

You’re busy berating yourself to hear someone calling your name. Stopping in your tracks, you sigh, waiting for Josie to catch up.

“Hey!” Josie chirps like the two of you are friendly.

“Hi…” you say glumly, with furrowed eyebrows. She’s never been nice to you before, so why should you start now?

“Can you not tell Jungkook what you saw?”

You tut, blinking your eyes at her like you owe her a favor. “Look Josie—what you do doesn’t concern me, okay?” you say, walking past her. It’s been a few weeks since you last saw her and she’s cheating on Jungkook with some guy? God, if only you could smack him upside the head right now—Josie too!

You’re a few steps ahead before you stop in your tracks and turn, walking back to her. You huff, “Tell me one thing. If you’re off with some guy behind Jungkook’s back. Why are you still stringing him along, then?”

Josie looks at you, ready to answer, but you raise your hand, stopping her. “Forget I asked. It’s none of my business.”

As you walk off again, there’s a revolting feeling in the pit of your stomach having to keep this to yourself. Jungkook deserves to know the kind of person Josie is, but it’s not your place to say anything. You’re not his best friend anymore. Honestly, you’re unsure what the two of you are and sometimes, there are some things you just shouldn’t say.

Whenever you think about seeing Josie and that mystery man, it makes you want to gag, and throw something at the wall, but mainly at her. Who knows how long she’s been cheating on Jungkook? You tossed and turned in bed, debating whether you should say something to him.

The dinner party is tonight, and if you happen to be alone with him and the Josie topic comes about, then you’ll mention it.

Another thought crosses your mind, what if he thinks you’re making this up because you’re jealous of Josie? Ah, fuck. Either way, you’ll turn out to be the bad guy, right? You’ll either break his heart or you’ll sound like a jealous person.

You don’t want to ruin whatever the two of you have, because you’ve missed the comfort of an old friend and you don’t want to lose it again.

Even though you know the code, you don’t press the four digits. Instead, you knock, waiting for someone to open the door.

“Hey!” Jungkook says, eyes dropping to your hands. “I said you didn’t have to bring anything.” He takes a step back, letting you through, and grabbing the box of Soju.

“I know, but Lana always says, ‘Don’t go anywhere empty-handed’,” you say, flashing a small smile.

“Ah, well, the Soju will go great with tonight’s menu.”

The aroma from Jungkook’s cooking is immaculate. You can almost taste the different dishes he’s prepared.

“Oh my god, it smells so good–like how your mom used to make food for us all the time.” You walk over to the dinner table, displayed with grilled meat, japchae, tteokbokki, buddaejjigae, and a plethora of banchan. “How is your mom? I miss her and her cooking.”

Jungkook chuckles softly. “She’s doing great. Her cooking, though? Not so much. It’s become too salty for my taste—Don’t tell her I told you that.”

You rub your hands together. “Oh, you bet that’s the first thing I’ll say after giving her a hug.”

“Don’t! She’ll disown me. She already hates that I’m a better cook than her,” Jungkook says, opening the box of Soju.

“You should become a private chef or something.”

He opens the refrigerator door, placing the Soju to chill. “Nah—I’ll just cook at home. I’m still learning, testing the waters, y’know?”

“I hate you.”

His eyes perk up with concern. “What did I do this time?”

“You’re good at everything you do—it’s unfair to the rest of us peasants.”

Jungkook relaxes at your answer, thinking he did something wrong again.

Placing the last Soju bottle in the fridge, he turns back, scanning you from head to toe. You’re dressed in an oversized Linkin Park band tee and jeans. He recognizes the shirt, the one you wore religiously during your emo teenage years.

“What? Is there something on my face?” you ask, touching your cheeks.

He shakes his head no and clears his throat. “I, um, wanted to talk to you...about something.”

“Oh?” Your eyes and ears perk up, but you’re interrupted by a commotion coming from the front door.

“The birthday boy is coming! Hide!” Lana says in a hushed tone. She rushes over to you, crouching down behind the counter, pulling you down with her. You chuckle, shaking your head.

With the front door open, Jungkook’s other roommate, Namjoon, walks in first–hand in hand with his girlfriend, and then following is the birthday boy.

Lana peers above the chairs to see if they’ve come in. “Surprise!” She cries out. Everyone’s ears must be ringing at this point.

Jimin gives a half-smile along with a chuckle. “Lana, you ran past us in the driveway.”

Her mouth turns into a cheesy smile. “You caught me. Sorry, I kind of ruined the surprise.”

“Happy birthday Jimin,” you say, walking over to him, arms out for a hug.

“I’m glad to see you and Kook have made up,” Jimin utters. “He needs someone like you around.” He pulls back, squeezing your arms before letting you go.

Namjoon and his girlfriend, Nora, greet you and Jungkook and then take a seat at the dinner table.

You look at Jungkook. “We’ll talk later?”

He hums in agreement. “Yeah, later.”

You’ve missed this—hanging out with old friends. It’s fun to be around people who you’ve known for a long time. You remember Namjoon being a senior when you were a freshman and the stories you’d hear about him—prom king, valedictorian; he did it all when he was in school. And Nora was the perfect woman for him. They’re both working toward their doctorate in philosophy. Their IQs were the equivalent of yours, Lana, Jimin, and Jungkook’s combined.

“Wow, I feel unqualified to be sitting at this table,” you say jokingly. Being an HR specialist was never the plan, but you’ve come to enjoy your job because you like to think you’re a good judge of character when it comes to hiring.

“Let’s stop talking about work, and have some fun! After all, it is Jimin’s birthday. How about a game of Truth or Dare?” Nora asks, looking around the dining table to get some confirmation. “I need verbal consent, please.”

Everyone glances at each other, awaiting answers. There are various responses, and everyone agrees to play.

Nora claps with a joyful squeal. “Okay, Jimin gets to ask first since it’s his birthday. Choose your victim, and anything’s fair game!”

There’s a groan from you and Jungkook. You have a feeling this night will become interesting.

Jimin rubs his hands together and then points to each person. “Eeny, meeny, miny, moe…” He continues the rhyme, and you know he’s itching to choose you or Jungkook, and his finger lands on Jungkook.

“Oh-ho-ho. Please pick dare, or I’ll make you answer something you don’t want to,” he says, playfully sticking out his tongue.

Jungkook narrows his eyes at his devilish roommate. “Don’t test me, Park. I can make your life a living hell, too.”

“Ah yes, I’d like to see you try.”

Your heart’s racing, and your hands are sweaty while gripping the chair’s armrest. Jimin has always been sneaky, and you’re sure he’ll make Jungkook kiss you.

Everyone’s waiting for Jungkook’s answer. He groans before replying, “Fine. Dare.”

Both Lana and Nora let out muffled squeals while you’re holding your breath.

“I dare you…to say something dirty to ____.” Jimin grins from ear to ear, staring at you.

You knew Jimin would be unrelenting when it came to you and Jungkook.

Turning to Jungkook, you say, “If you’re uncomfortable, don’t do it. It’s just a dumb game.”

“Hey! Nora said anything’s fair game and my dare is completely harmless. I could’ve asked you to do something else, but I didn’t,” Jimin refutes.

“It’s fine,” Jungkook says with a scowl. Turning to you, he leans over. His breath is warm against your ear, goosebumps are trickling on your skin, and your hair is standing on its end. He whispers, “You look so pretty—wish I could do this forever.”

“Hey, hey, hey! You’re supposed to say it aloud for everyone to hear,” Jimin protests.

You visibly gulp, returning to a straightened position in your chair. The ten words he said shouldn’t affect you, but it does. The room has grown warmer and you’re practically melting like butter in a hot pan. It’s just a silly game and you’re so over Jimin and his antics.

“Your dare was ‘to say something dirty to ___’. You didn’t specify if it was a whisper or if I had to shout it from the rooftop,” Jungkook chirps, quickly glancing in your direction to make sure you’re okay.

Jimin glares at Jungkook with a blaze of a thousand suns. “It’s implied that you say it out loud so everyone can hear.”

Lana elbows Jungkook. “What did you say? How dirty was it? Like, give us a rating, PG-13, R, NC-17?” He doesn’t answer her, but she looks at you, pointing her fingers to her eyes and then back to you, indicating that you’ll tell her later.

“I’ll let it go this time, but from now on, no whispering, and everyone has to hear what everyone says,” Jimin demands, awaiting confirmation from the group. “Okay, Jungkook, it’s your turn.”

He turns to Lana and bluntly asks, “Would you ever sleep with Jimin?” Jungkook peers at Jimin because he knows that Jimin’s had a crush on Lana since high school.

Lana’s mouth twists before answering, “Yeah, I guess.”

Jimin scoffs, offended by her response. “You guess? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know if you’re any good in bed!”

“And I don’t know if you’re any good in bed!” he chirps back.

“Please—I’ll be the best sex you’ll ever have,” she jeers, crossing her arms.

Jimin stands. “Oh yeah? Prove it.” He retorts, raising his chin in defense.

Everyone ‘oohs’, staring at the two like they’re in a stand-off.

“Prove it! Prove it!” Nora urges, pounding her fists on the table.

Namjoon fakes a laugh, muffling his girlfriend’s pounding. “I’m sorry. She’s had too much to drink. Don’t listen to her.”

Jimin leans forward, hands on the table. “Yeah…prove it.” He raises an eyebrow, wondering if Lana will back down or take on the challenge.

“Right now?” She tilts her head, scanning him from head to toe.

He shrugs. “Mm, what a shame. I guess you’ll never be able to prove it,” he says with a tut.

The chair legs squeak when Lana pushes herself to stand. “When’s the last time you got tested?”

“A month ago,” Jimin quickly replies like no one else is in the room. “I’m clean. You?”

“I’m clean too. You got condoms?”

You sink in your chair, wiping your face, watching these two go off on each other. Honestly, you can’t believe you’re witnessing this.

“Got a whole box ready for you.”

Lana marches over to Jimin, grabbing his hand. “Well, come on birthday boy.”

Your mouth drops, watching the two-run upstairs. “They’re not gonna fuck, are they?” Lana has been in a dry spell for the last year, so you don’t blame her for wanting to get laid.

“Yeah, I think they are,” Jungkook answers. “Yah—” he turns to yell toward Jimin’s room. “Keep it down, will ya?”

The rest of you continue the game, but they’re just questions to get to know each other.

“Jungkook, if there’s one thing you could take back. What would it be?”

He looks in your direction, then plays with his Soju glass, spinning it a few times. You’re biting the inside of your cheek, eyes bouncing from him and then to Nora and Namjoon.

“Um, I’d go back to the day I broke ___’s heart—take everything back.”

The couple looks at each other, forcing a fake laugh. “Well, I can sense the tension between our friends here,” Nora says. “Joonie, baby, didn’t you wanna show me that thing in your room?”

Namjoon’s eyebrows furrow. “What thing?”

Nora stands, tugging his hand, and drags him down the hallway to his room. You can hear the two bickering before the door closes.

You’re silent. Unsure of what to say. You want to move forward, but the past keeps haunting you. Will it always be like this with you and Jungkook? And certainly, there are things you didn’t say that you should say now, but what’s the point?

“We should clean up,” you say, picking up a few plates to stack them. Jungkook follows your lead, helps clear the table, and walks over to set them in the sink.

Turning on the faucet, you rinse off the plates. Jungkook leans back against the kitchen island, eyes scanning over you.

“I meant what I said earlier.”

You close your eyes, then breathe out a sigh. Looking at the boy who used to be your best friend. His eyes hold the galaxy and you get easily lost in them. You’re an explorer longing to find the next big discovery. It’s right in front of you, but at a moment’s notice, you might lose him like you did before.

“Kook…we were kids back then, and you can’t change the past.” You continue to wash the dishes, but it’s hard to focus when he’s near.

Jungkook reaches to turn off the water, gently squeezing your arm to look at him. “Yeah, I know, but I can try to fix it now, right?”

Your hands grip onto the sink, your eyes focused on the water dripping from the spout. You fixate on Jungkook’s words. How can he reconcile a friendship he tore apart? And for what? A girl?

He calls your name, breaking your focus. “Talk to me.”

There’s a tightness in your chest as you turn to him. “Fix it? I don’t want you to fix it.”

“O-kay…then tell me what you want and I’ll do it.”

If it was only that easy.

You close the distance between you, looking at him. “What do I want?” He hums. “I want you to be broken. Wrecked—just like how I was. It took me years to get over you—our friendship. I hate it, Jungkook.”

“I hate what I did to you—”

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “You don’t understand, Kook.” Your heart is aching—like someone reached in, squeezing it as hard as they can.

“Then explain.”

Your eyes meet his. “You. Own. Me,” you say, your index finger pressing into his chest with each word. “These last few weeks have been excruciating. I don’t know who I am when I’m around you. No matter how hard I try to convince myself that I’ve moved on. You’ll always be the one thing that I’ll never be over.”

Your heart is pounding, and every inch of your body is burning to the touch. You didn’t think anyone could ever make you this livid. But as much as you want to hate him, moving back home simply confirms everything you’ve been attempting to hide for the past seven years—you love him.

“I was hurt, too. You don’t think I was?” Jungkook says softly, lifting your chin so you can meet his gaze. “I was devastated, knowing how much I hurt you. I couldn’t eat or sleep for days. Seeing and talking to you every day and then it just stopped. My world was falling apart, and I didn’t know how to fix it. I watched you go off to live your life while I was stuck here with you, haunting me everywhere I went. Philz, the damn grocery store, the park–you were there. There was no escaping you. So yeah, I was wrecked and broken, just like you.”

The narrative you created in your head of Jungkook and Josie was something out of a fairytale. Boy meets girl, they fall in love and live happily ever after. But according to Jungkook, it was hardly the case. You haunted him as much as he haunted you throughout the years.

Chuckling to yourself, you think about how this could've been avoided if one of you had just spoken up. Stepping back from him, you take a breath to calm your nerves. You lean back against the sink, arms folded. “Can I ask you something?”

Jungkook’s eyes flick to you and his body mirrors yours. “I’m an open book, ___.”

“Why did you give up so easily? Why didn’t you fight for me? Our friendship?”

A beat passes, and he doesn’t respond. It’s foolish to think he’d have an answer for you.

Your lips thin, and you breathe out a sigh of frustration. “It’s fine, Kook. Don’t answer. We’ll just go back to the way things were. Have a good life.” You walk off toward the living room and he follows.

“You don’t get to walk away,” he says, shutting the front door when you try to open it.

“Yeah? Watch me!” You turn back to the door, attempting to open it, but Jungkook’s hand is holding it shut.

He grips your arm. “I was scared, okay? I was young and stupid, and scared.”

You turn around and push him back. “Scared? You’re still scared! That’s why you can’t even break up with Josie! She’s cheating on you, by the way! I saw her with some guy glued to her neck. I don’t understand why you can’t just let her go.”

“I’m not scared of breaking up with Josie. I just got comfortable with her being around and didn’t think I could do any better.” Jungkook steps back and reclines on the couch’s armrest.

“You don’t think you can do better than Josie? You’re Jeon Jungkook, of course, you can.”

He forces a laugh, shaking his head no. “I barely graduated high school, practically failed my college classes. I don’t have a steady job and I have no idea what I’m passionate about. So yeah, I didn’t think I could do any better than Josie, until…”

“Until…?”

“Until I saw you at the party. I know it sounds cheesy, but when I saw you standing in the living room. It was like a sign from the universe, waking me up from this auto-pilot life I was living in. Seeing you again really shook me up.”

You could say the same thing about seeing Jungkook again. The universe loved to toy with the two of you, didn’t it?

“And then after our dinner two weeks ago, I broke up with Josie–like officially. I gave all her stuff back. I’m not answering calls or anything. So, I guess when you saw her, she must’ve moved on to the next guy–that’s what I wanted to talk to you about, me breaking up with her.”

There was a sense of relief when he said that because you were ready to fight Josie.

“Oh,” you say softly, taking a step toward him. “I guess I was wrong about you—being scared, I mean.”

Jungkook’s toying with his necklace, circling it around his neck. “I’m still scared.” He steps toward you, waiting for you to look at him. “I’m scared I’m gonna mess this up,” he says.

“How are you going to mess this up? We’re just friends.”

“That’s the thing. I don’t want to be ‘just friends’.”

Your gaze flicks to him and then drops to his lips and back up again. You know what he’s alluding to, but you need to hear those words leave his lips. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He knows you’re teasing him. “Do I really have to spell it out for you?”

“Yes.”

“Because I love you, okay? I’m in love with you. Have always been in love with you, and I’m scared to lose you again.”

Your eyes are glossy, fighting back tears. You’ve longed to hear those words from Jungkook, and like him, you’re afraid of an unknown future, but right now, all that matters is him.

As a tear falls down your cheek, you’re ready to let love in. Let him in. Discover new things. Rediscover old things. You’re ready to be vulnerable, move forward from the past, and let go of the heartache and pain.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe.

Jungkook steps toward you, cupping your face. “No, no, no. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

You shake your head. “No, I do. I’m sorry I didn’t fight harder for you–for our friendship. It’s my fault too.”

His thumbs caress your cheeks. “Hey, can we agree to let the past be in the past and just focus on us now, in the present?”

Your hands cover his, and you nod, flashing a soft smile. “Mhm. I’d like that.”

Jungkook wipes your tear-stained cheeks. “Now, can I do something I’ve been wanting to do for a long time?”

“What’s that?”

His lips finally touch yours. It’s not fervent or haste. It’s soft, uncertain. But you kiss him back. You’re savoring each point of contact. His lips overlapping yours, capturing a hint of your cherry Chapstick. Your eyes are half-lidded and you pull back for air, but he leans in, bringing you back in for more. His nose bumps into yours as he turns his head, deepening the kiss. Your body presses against his, your fists balled up, tugging on his white t-shirt. There’s a glow of excitement and nervousness rushing throughout your body when one of his hands grips your waist and the other is on the small of your back, pushing you further into him.

A low whine leaves his lips when you withdraw. He reaches for another kiss, but you stop him.

“Kook—” you whisper as his forehead touches yours.

“I don’t want to stop kissing you,” he says, kissing your cheek and tracing your jawline. “Don’t think I can ever stop.”

You chuckle. “I don’t want to stop kissing you, either. Maybe we should take this to the bedroom?”

While lying in bed next to Jungkook, you simply enjoy each other’s presence. Your fingers trace stars across his chest and you love how he breathes–his chest rising and falling ever so softly. The sound of his voice vibrates through your fingers and into your body. With one arm wrapped around you and the other resting behind his head, Jungkook tells you about the dreams he had but never dared to pursue–you being one of them.

And as the clock strikes midnight, the magic of you and him didn’t dissipate. It’s here. It’s real.

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagines #fic: things you didn't say

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twice-inamillion · 6 months

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Momo in the Studio

Smut (dirty talk, sex, penetration, creampie, sex crazy momo)

Chapter 216

1,570 Words

(OC and Momo spend some time in the studio. They work together on some lyrics but gets messy in the end. 😏)

After arriving in Korea, you have spent most of your time in the studio. The members use their time at the company for dance practice or to work on lyrics for songs they want to submit for the next album.

Momo is one of those who is excited to show you some lyrics she wrote for a potential song.

“Amazing work, Momo. How did you come up with this?”

“Really? It’s good?”

“Yeah, it gives a different vibe.”

“Thanks! Hmm… I went around and asked unnie for help.”

“Nayeon and Jeongyeon?”

“I can’t say, but they gave me some pointers.”

“Thank them because I can see this as a potential song.”

The two of you spent a couple of hours in the studio trying out some potential beats. Momo became interested in the process and stuck to you like glue. “So if you change this, it gives a different vibe to the song? It’s supposed to be a love and hate type of song, but it’s also kind of hot,” as Momo presses her breast to your arm.

“I think we can emphasize more on these words” as you mention the words “Love, I love you, love you, hate, foolish.”

“Yes, like you love someone and hate them too, seems like a hot way to have sex.”

“You must be sex crazy.”

Momo looks at you with lustful eyes, “It’s because I’ve only used my fingers and toys. You haven’t been filling me up as of lately.”

“You know how busy we’ve been. The wedding and the tour.”

She pushes your chair and gets on top of you, “Still, you could have given me a good fucking. Don’t think Jihyo would mind.” You know that she’s teasing you, and it’s working.

She notices you staring at her chest, “Wanna see my tits, Oppa?” Momo doesn’t wait for an answer and takes off her shirt, revealing her beautiful breasts held by a thin bra. She slowly undoes her bra and tosses it onto the nearby chair.

With her large nipple in front of you, it doesn’t take much for you to shove your face to her breast. You attach yourself to her nipple and suckle. Momo moans loudly and says, “Oppa, there’s no milk; I’m not Jihyo.”

You don’t respond and keep on focusing on her breast and move to the other. You place her nub between your teeth and give a slight bite. Momo cries from her nipple getting bitten and digs her nails into your arm.

After detaching yourself, Momo unbuttons your shirt and tosses it to the floor. She gets off of the chair, starts to undo the remainder of her clothes, and moves to remove your pants.

When she removes your boxers, your cock springs out hard. Momo looks at you with hunger in her eyes and says, “fuck, I missed your cock so much.” She gives it a few pumps and gets back on your lap.

You see Momo grab your cock and aligns it to her entrance. You ask, “No foreplay?” Momo looks at your crazed eyes, “No, I just want your cock in me, now,” and lowers herself to take in your head. She moans to the tip of your cock inside her, “Ooh, that feels so good, and it’s just the tip.” She lets the remaining of her weight go, and her cunt swallows your whole length.

“Fuck! You’re stretching me wide open!” Momo arches her back from the sudden pain of your massive cock invading her hungry womb.

She doesn’t hesitate to bounce on your cock aggressively. Momo grunts and moans loudly to your thick cock, spreading her walls wide open. “I hate you; you make me such a bad girl. You make me feel like I’m high.”

You notice her spouting out some of the lyrics of her songs as she rides you like a bull and you decide to tease her a bit. “Why do you hate me?”

Momo, with her hands fondling her massive breasts, yells, “I hate how Jihyo has you wrapped around her little fingers. She shouldn’t have you all for herself; she needs to share with the rest of us!”

She continues to ride your cock as you enjoy the show. Her perfect breast bounces right in front of you, “fuck, Momo. I love your breasts; I just want to milk them dry.”

“Only way you’ll get that is if you breed me,” giving you a smirk.

“You would want that, huh.”

“Yes! I enjoy the feeling of hot cum inside my womb.”

“I want to see you become a complete mess,” place your hands on her butt and stand up. With her arms wrapped around your neck, she holds on for dear life. You begin to fuck her in a stand-and-carry position as you walk to lock the door of the studio. You walk back and press the “recording in session” button to ensure that no one bothers the both of you.

“Make sure you fill me up real good, okay.”

You stand in the middle of the studio and fucking her mercilessly. Momo lets her full voice out as she grunts and moans loudly. “Just like that! Fuck me with your big, fat cock. Mess up that slutty pussy of mine.”

You give her a heavy slap on her ass and increase the pace of your thrusting. She digs her nails deep into your back, “Ahh… you’re going to make me addicted to your cock. Don’t stop, please.”

“Tell me where you like my cock.”

“Ahh… in my cunt.”

“Where?”

“I said in my cunt!

“I can’t hear you.”

“I said, I like it when you fuck me in my tight little cunt with that big fat cock of yours!”

“See it’s not so hard.”

You decide to change up the pace and let her do all the work. Momo uses her strength to bounce on your cock as she avoids falling. “Oppa, don’t let me do all the work; I’m about to fall.”

“You’re doing a good job, Momo. Just keep going, okay?” as you kiss her on the lips. She’s surprised from the sudden kiss and giggles, “Okay, but make sure you give me a reward after for doing all the work.”

Momo continues to bounce on you for what feels like an hour. As time goes by, her rhythm goes slowly, and her breathing becomes heavier. “Oppa, I can’t hold on anymore. My arms are about to give up.” She presses her head onto your chest and is entirely out of energy. You lift her up, pull out and reinsert your cock and do some slow but hard thrusts.

“In or out?”

She lifts her head and shyly whispers, “In.”

You walk towards the couch across the studio and slowly place on the sofa into a mating press. Standing in front of Momo, you get on your knees and tease her with your cock by tracing your head against her lips. With your cock in hand, you slap it on her cunt before inserting it back inside. You hold her legs up to her head and thrust yourself deep inside.

“Oh fuck!! Fuck… fuck… you’re too rough. You’re going to mess me up.”

“You told me to mess you up, so here it is. Take it like a good girl.”

Momo bites her lip as she feels the tip of your cock reaching the deepest part of her womb. She doesn’t resist and whines, “Cum inside me already; I want to feel it in my…”. You don’t let her finish her sentence as you pull out and slam yourself once more. Her eyes widen as she pulls her womb gets pumped with a large amount of thick hot cum.

“Hmm….fuck! Keep pouring that hot baby batter inside my slutty cunt!”

You watch as her belly grows bigger by the amount of cum you’re pouring inside of her. “You’re taking it like a good girl, Momo,” as you watch her satisfied face. You give her one last thrust before pulling out.

“Woah, you look so hot,” as you watch Momo’s creampie. “I really did a number on you,” as she lays on the couch with her legs spread wide open. You see a thick trail of cum oozing out and dripping onto the sofa and on the floor, creating a small puddle.

You walk to Momo and ask, “Hold a peace sign. I want to take a picture.” Momo holds a peace sign with both hands, sticks her tongue out, and rolls her eyes back.

“Haha, you really know how to turn on a guy, huh.”

Momo laughs at your comment, “I wouldn’t know. You’re the only guy I’ve been with.” You can’t help but smile and thank Jihyo for allowing you to play with her “sisters.”

You stare at Momo’s delicious body and see a slight bulge in her tummy. You give her belly a hard press and see a large amount of cum gush out of Momo’s used cunt.

With her two fingers, she traces her folds and collects as much cum as it can hold. She puts it in her mouth and says, “Tastes so good, it’s sweet,” as she licks her fingers clean.

#twice smut #kpop smut #twice fluff #kpop fluff #twice momo #twice momo smut #hirari momo #momo smut #momo hirai #momo #hirai momo #TM smut

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losersiren · 1 day

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𝒜 𝒥𝑒𝒶𝓁𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝒴𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝑒!𝐿𝑜𝓇𝒹

”𝒶𝓈𝓀 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝑜𝓇𝓁𝒹, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐼'𝓁𝓁 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒾𝓉 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒷𝑒𝓎𝑜𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝓈 𝒶𝒸𝒸𝑒𝓈𝓈𝑜𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓈.” A continuation of my oc Ambrose, The lord N: Don't I have a gift for you, Anon! God, I had to rewrite this so many times, BUT I'M DONE!! Eat up! This is a long one! I had to watch so many gun videos (like two), which was unexpected... CW: Fem reader (she/her), acts and talks of violence (not towards the reader), implied murder, threats, guns, fluff (with the reader lol), mocking, power balance (?) Jealousy (or pettiness) Wc: 3.5k

A shotgun sound echoes throughout the forest, followed by yet another dead Grey partridge and light crunches of leaves beneath stomping leather boots.

“That bastard of a man! A prick! Son of a bitch! Son of an adventuress at that!” Ambrose stops in his tracks, reloading his sporting rifle with more gunpowder. Anger consumes his entire being. ”Did you hear what that bloody cocksucker Patrick said to her?” He hissed through his clenched teeth, grabbing the tiny 0.5 mm sphere lead bullet and layering it on top of some fabric. Shoving it inside the rifle barrel, “If what he said changed from the last few hundred times you’ve re-told the incident, then I have no utter clue.” The younger male rolls his eyes, picking up the tenth bird Ambrose has slaughtered this afternoon. He ignores his younger cousin’s sarcastic quip and continues. “ ‘If you wish for a lovely evening, do not be a stranger; send me a letter, and I'll be by your side.’ I should’ve darkened his daylights when those vile words left his devil mouth.” He fixes his gun upright, pushing the first trigger, waiting for another prey to be a victim of his wrath.

“Is she spoken for? Have you outwardly said you intend to court her?” His cousin questions, and Ambrose, in retaliation to his younger relative’s question….blushes like a young girl. Clenching his jaw, he answers, “No,” “Are you mad?!?” “I’ve attempted…but my nervousness has sabotaged me alas.” Astonished, his cousin continues, “Then you have no right to be jealous of her, you fool.”

Bushes start rustling. Ambrose aims and squints instantly, with a pointer finger on the second trigger. A small grey rabbit appears, and immediately, it's killed straight through its skull; a soft smile appears on Ambrose’s face. “For her, I'll be whatever is needed.”

“You are not sane.”

“Don’t be rude, Finch. This is love in its purest form. One day, you’ll understand.” The older male shrugs his shoulders.

“Now,” Ambrose reloads his gun, repeating his past actions, but this time, he looks straight into the other male’s eyes. “What do you know about Patrick Barton?” “I do not-” Ambrose cuts him off. “ Do not lie to me, young Finch…” His voice becomes lower, mocking, his aura more sinister. “You frequent more gentleman clubs than I; lord knows I hate the people and atmosphere of said clubs– Your mother grumbles enough to mine about the subject.” In goes the gunpowder: “You surround yourself with such…’ vast’ personalities from the elites to the ladies of the night.” The grey-eyed man reaches into his waistcoat for a lead bullet. “Yet you tell me– you don’t know about a mere Lord.” He scoffs.

Finch watches his older cousin's actions. Of course, he only asked to spend time with him for information regarding the apple of his eye’s new ‘suitor.’ The young man knows his current situation, the number of Grey partridge carcasses he holds because of Ambrose, and how far deep he’s in the forest, alone with his turbulent cousin. This was a warning, a show of sorts, that he could join these insignificant birds. He tries to swallow the heavy lump stuck in his throat. Ambrose was always the odd man; his smile never reached his eyes, his charm as real as a disloyal man’s ‘ I love you.’ His older cousin wasn’t above putting his hands on his own blood to get what he wanted– Ambrose’s father’s scar is evidence enough.

“He partakes in Hell’s, frequents them more than gentleman’s clubs, a gambler of sorts. Loves it! He brags about the thrills of it and his winnings. Folks whisper that he’s a dishonourable shark. But it's not just hell establishments he attends; If there's someplace to gamble away his earnings, he's there,” Finch sputters his confession.

“And Mills? Does he attend those as well?” “Yes,” The younger lad answers his senior instantly.

Ambrose just hums in return.

Just finishing his task, he aims for his cousin; he wears an inexpressive face, his grey eyes darkened and vacant, with no light, no soul.

“Wait, wait! I told you what you wanted!” Finch pleas. He could run, but in retrospect, how far can he go? Ambrose has a fucking rifle. He’s a good shot, no, an excellent shot. Hell! It’s borderline impossible how he always hits his targets, especially with how hard it is to aim for those things. Finch is panicking; his cousin has already pushed the first trigger. The nervous lad just accepts it; what else could he do? He closes his eyes, expecting his death to come quickly, then he hears a gunshot…

And he's fine…? Another Grey partridge falls from the sky right before him, its dead eye looking at the twenty-year-old.

Ambrose’s gun aims towards the sky. He lowers it. Then he casually approaches the stunned male, who lets out a staggered sigh, relieved he escaped death by a hair. Ambrose looks down at Finch, grabbing his shoulder and leaning in close. “Don’t ever fucking lie to me ever again, especially when the topic concerns my love.” Finch nods rapidly, shaking like a leaf. “Of course, sir, sorry.” Then, the older male releases his shoulders. “Good. Gift those birds to a peasant; perhaps they’ll make dinner with it, oh, and the rabbit, too. Say I have decided to help my community or something along those lines.” He looks at the sky. “I have a woman blessed by aphrodite to court.” His smile is bright, contrasting how he was a mere few seconds ago. He pats his younger cousin’s back and leaves the forest– The lifeless Grey partridge stares back at Finch, and he stares back.

Social calls…How dreadful. Worse is conversing with Lord Barton. He’s a bore, vulgar, and has an underlying inconsiderate, bitter personality. Having your mother as a chaperone does not make the situation any more bearable.

“Have you ever pondered about the future?” he inquires.

What kind of wet rag question is that?

You put on a gentle smile. “Of course I have. Since I was a chit, I would read the local papers with my father-” He cuts you off “Children.” You look at him in confusion. “Pardon?”

The gentleman looks at you like you’re the biggest dunce in the country. “Children, how many children do you wish for? It would be sensible for us to have eight or ten,” “Hah…well…” you lift the tea cup to your mouth.

The man has no decorum…

After that fiasco, you decided to take a stroll downtown, and perhaps you’ll get a book from the local store, some new fabrics from a linen draper, or even some oils. Your pin money given to you by your parents could only cover one item... what a conundrum….

“Do tell me why the viscount’s only daughter is doing without a chaperone?” He leans against the brick wall, arms crossed, his smile beaming.

“Lord Howard, have you dropped your hunting hobby in exchange for stalking?” He chuckles. “Witty as always, but dare I disappoint? I was just strolling about my day and coincidentally saw you– Perhaps fate has decided for us to meet?” He pushes himself off the wall and offers his arm. Was it coincidence or fate…? No, it was none; it was all Ambrose, him asking your fellow lady peers about your whereabouts. Then, wandering near whatever local shops would possibly pique your interest. Memories play in his head, such as when you both were young and would rendezvous at the local forest. You would acquire many hobbies when you were younger– your mother said you would have a higher chance of obtaining a suitor with diverse skills. He would remember them and watch you in amazement when you talked about them.

You made him feel human. You made him feel alive. His father was never a loving one; he gained the son he wanted, and his heir then wanted nothing more to do with him. The only attention Ambrose earned from The Earl was if he needed reprimanding. Every laugh that was too loud, every fork that he unitized improperly, every action, small or big, was scrutinized. His mother was a vacant husk of a woman at home and a social butterfly in the public eye; she watered herself down to being a wife and a mother. She was neither. He detested both of them and hated that damned empty feeling of his soul and heart that matched his vacated house; he felt nothing. His world was as grey as his eyes.

Till he met the colourful Viscount’s daughter– If he got kicked by a horse and lost his memory, he would still somehow remember the day you two met—the memory ingrained in his bones, body, and soul. On the way to your estate, the stately carriage was soundless and suffocating, as if the air was thick. Ambrose remembers how he bore his eyes into his obsidian-polished boots, wishing for the minutes to pass faster.

You were a naive hoyden the first time you introduced yourself; you forgot to say his title and yours. Using his common name and giving him an oh-so-sweet genuine smile, he hadn’t ever seen such an authentic smile for him and only him—not for his parents nor his riches. Just him. Your parents scolded you while apologizing profusely for your ‘disrespect.’ Before his parents could utter something backhanded yet elegant, Ambrose smiled. He didn’t know he could do that. For the first time, the young boy speaks up; he feels this protectiveness over you. But, at the moment, Ambrose couldn't care less about his father's punishment that would soon come; the only thing that mattered was you, and soon he’d found out that it would always be you.

An airy laugh escapes you. “Do you wish for us to be caught in a scandal every time we meet?” He raises a faux, worried face and voice. “Me?!? As a future Earl, I am fulfilling my gentlemanly duties by escorting a fine young lady and keeping her from potential dangers. What’s so scandalous about that?” You take his arm. “You’re far from sane, My Lord.”

“For you, My lady? I hope so,” He says proudly with his chest out.

A comfortable silence lulls you as you look at how the sun hits the trees, people, and him. The sun's rays lighten his dark brown hair, blessing it with an orange hue and grey eyes, becoming Iridescent, more akin to a pearl.

“The latest on dit says Lord Barton has called for your company?” He inquires

Your face grimaces at just the sound of his name. As much as you loathe the man, he is a viable suitor with good money and an excellent reputation, but a suitable suitor does not equate to a good man. “He’s…an interesting individual…” His jaw clenches. You’re not being open as he wants; you’re holding back…he hates that you might be hiding something. Not you per se but that damned rake Patrick. “He’s a rake,” he spits out, and you gaze at him. He’s uncharacteristically serious.

You smile. “He is,” Ambrose turns his head to you, returning your smile.

“Quite the feat to dissect the woman you are trying to woo as well.” The gentleman’s eyebrows furrow. “He did not,” you huff. “Oh, he did!” Ambrose stops in his tracks and mummers your name softly. “If you would only permit it, Allow me to court you,” You raise an eyebrow at the sudden question, “Pardon?” He continues, “That bastard doesn’t deserve you.” “And you do?” he chuckles. “No, but I’ll do everything you ask me to, then maybe one day I'll deserve you; you wish for dresses? I'll buy you the tailor and store. Money is far from an issue. Heavens, ask for the world, and I'll give you it with the stars and beyond as accessories.” He turns his whole body to you, his hands finding yours, his leather gloves causing a barrier between your soft ones.

He hates that

“Ambrose…”

“Please…only if you’ll allow me.” The love-sick man entreated “But what about the other more suitable ladies? I’ve heard-” “I do not care for them,” He interrupts you. “Every second I was apart, I only longed for you. The only reason I kept my studies up was to be the perfect suitor equal to you.” He caresses your knuckles. The butterflies in your stomach flutter more after each word spills out of his mouth. Your relationship with Ambrose was vague at most. You couldn’t put your finger on it; every time you were in his presence, you had this comfort no one else could recreate. You were hesitant to put a label onto it, and maybe you feel this way because he was the only man you truly felt you could be yourself with.

“If you wish to court me, you must’ve thought to ask my father for permission rather than myself.”

“I could’ve,” He pauses, “But I'd rather ask you first; I need your permission. I am not marrying your father, am I? I need to hear you wish for me as much as I yearn for you,”

You amuse the thought. Ambrose is a prick at times, his teasing relentless, but despite that, he’s charming, sincere, soothing, and protective. He’s a good man, indeed.

“I’ll bite, My lord.” “Please do.” He smirked, masking his nervousness.

You slap his hand lightly, reprimanding him, “Let me continue, you brute…I’ll allow you to court me.” “Truly?” he exclaims, Astonished. “Truly,” You nod meekly. In a haste, he kisses your bare hands, each knuckle, each finger. “I’ve been blessed indeed,” his voice is as blissful as a child receiving a sugary dessert. You yank your hands away from him, flushed from his actions. “You dog, we are in the public,” you scold him. “I shall make it up to you in our next outing; I vow,” You swear you could see a wagging tale behind him. You sigh.

The day went on, and by sundown, Ambrose had hired a post-chaise for the both of you despite your protests of you living just around the corner. He claimed he had ‘Earl-like duties to attend to’ and you were just on the route back either way. As a gentleman should, he dropped you off promptly; as he left in the carriage, away from your estate, you softly ran your fingers over your knuckles. A smile adorns your face. “What an oaf,” you whisper to yourself. A fond grin decorates Ambrose’s face, a few giggles even, but as euphoric this day was, he did have business to attend to. A certain lord has decided to make his lacklustre presence known, and Ambrose couldn’t celebrate until he exterminated said pest.

Gentleman’s clubs were boisterous, loud, and untrustworthy. The men here are just as vile as the feed that is fed to pigs. The soon-to-be-Earl disliked them and only engaged in them because he needed to build his reputation. He may be judgemental, but he isn’t an idiot. Others may regard him as a friend, but for him, he could care less for it. The males around him start to recognize Ambrose, yelling pleasantries, which he would return and shut down politely or…as politely as he could in his eyes. A booming voice reverberates against the wall of the finely furnished building, only belonging to the one and only Patrick Barton. Unconsciously, a scowl appears on the young man’s face. Ambrose knew more than he led on about Patrick; he heard whispers of Barton’s hobby in the mills, rigging the boxing matches that were bid on by elites and peasants alike. Word says he would pay one of the desperate participants to lose on purpose– word is bound to escape one day or another. It is not a sustainable income source. Yet another reason Lord Barton is not fit for you.

Ambrose walks towards the table where the bastard sits, narrowing his eyes.

Lord Barton and his goons recognize the lord approaching them. Barton speaks first: “Lord Howard! Is it a blue moon? What on earth might’ve convinced you to come out of that dreadful estate?” He laughs, arranging some snuff onto the mahogany to snort. “Perhaps it’s because you plan on courting his woman.” a nameless male inquires. “No, could it be? I don’t blame you, Ambrose; she is a fine woman, isn’t she? She is just in need of training,” another male said, joining in. “So does every woman in this country.” Another chuckle escapes the vulgar lord.

Ambrose’s leather gloves wrinkle. His fist clenched to prevent him from beating the man in front of him into a pummel. He has a plan, the grey-eyed man repeats in his head. Then he forces a smile on his face. “On the contrary, I've decided to pick up a new gambling hobby; why not ask the man of the hour himself for advice? Or even a game or two.” Ambrose signals a servant and orders drinks for the table. The man in question gets up, slapping Ambrose on his back. “Atta boy, never let a woman come between men; let bygones be bygones, what a joyance plan! Come, come.” The night continues, and Patrick is as drunk as the rest of the men in the club; Ambrose, the gentleman he is, offers him to join his carriage in his words. 'Let’s start this newfound friendship off with a bang.' Cold water hits the once-drunken lord, and he awakens, gasping for air on the cold textured ground. ‘Where am I?’ he thinks, discombobulated, looking around and grasping his situation. The dark forest surrounds him, almost engulfing him; the trees blow along with the wind, and the creatures of the night rustle in the background. A voice comes from the shadows, luring him away from his racing thoughts, “Gunpowder is such a messy substance, but did you know a man invented a gun powered by air? What a time to be alive! How revolutionary!” Patrick looks at the man, most of his body consumed by the darkness of nightfall, the moon only making his grey eyes visible.

“Ambrose, what the utter fuck-” “Don’t interrupt.” He says sternly. “As I was saying, a gun powered by air,” He continues. “A watchmaker of all things invented it; how preposterous! He eliminated gunpowder entirely and named this new gun Windbüchse or, I know you only know English, so pardon me, I'll translate, wind gun.”

“It’s far better than my hunting rifle; the tedious thing is quite a hassle to reload. But this wind gun can load much faster, 20 rounds a minute! Compared to the other, it is much quieter. It's a shame its range is far smaller.” The man standing pouts. “But all is well. The Austrian army decided to order thousands of supplies, and it’s fortunate I even got my hands on one.” Patrick squints, trying to distinguish Ambrose, and it finally sets in. In a forest he doesn’t know of, with a man who has a gun in his hand in the dead of night. Not just any man but a Lord known for his physical fitness and hunting expertise since he was a just a lad.

Fuck

“If this is about your lady, Ambrose, you can have her! There’s no need to do this!” Patrick tries to reason with the love-sick lord, yet it's no use. The other man scoffs, “I’ve always detested men like you, greedy, hypocritical. Ready to jump boat when things get too tough for your liking– where is your backbone? Where is your spine? Your pride?” Ambrose circles the pain-filled man on the ground. “You never deserved to even be in her presence; you aren’t even entitled to breathe the same air as her,” He then spontaneously kicks Patrick's ribs, causing him to curl up on a ball, yelping. Ambrose looks down at the pathetic man. “But, I am a fair man, unlike you, so I'll give you a chance to run while I read you the note I have written in your writing announcing your hasty departure after news of your rigging in the mills comes to light, your writing was not hard to duplicate as well; who knew mother’s penmanship lessons would come in handy,” He chuckles.

“Now run, monkey, while you still can.” He sets the trigger and then turns the spindle of his gun clockwise till a clicking sound can be heard, indicating he doesn’t need to turn it anymore. Ambrose opens the barrel, puts in an 8.5 mm bullet, and then shuts it.

“I’m sure we can talk this out reasonably, money! I have money! Have it all; buy your woman something nice-” Patrick feels his thigh get warmer at first rather than the pulsing pain of a bullet shooting through his thigh that would soon follow shortly after. He screams.“To think you have the naivety to think I couldn’t fund my lover for generations on end,”

Ambrose rolls his eyes. “Scream louder; perhaps you’ll awaken a bear to save you,” yet again, he starts reloading his wind gun, faster at that, “I am not one to repeat himself nor give mercy. Run, rabbit.”

With adrenaline coursing through his body, Patrick runs…or well, attempts to.

Ambrose reaches into his waistcoat for the forged letter, clearing his voice to read it while his other hand holds his gun. Though his attention should be on the task at hand, he is utterly distracted by possible outing plans you would adore. Shall he go canoeing with you? Or a picnic? A carriage ride underneath the newly blooming cherry blossoms? Why not all three?

Oh. how he longs to see you again.

Notes: I'm gonna be so honest, romance is the hardest thing to write for me. It's probably noticeable, forgive me (⇀‸↼‶) I had to do some research for this one, but it was a fun process learning more about Regency lingo and gun history. For my next full fic. I was thinking of a yandere! Cannibalistic 50's housewife, but idk….hehe…if you have any ideas send them to my inbox!! I'd like to say again THANK YOU FOR THE SUPPORT!!! Reading all your kind words makes my little shy heart soar (o^ ^o) see you soon, my little guppies!!

309 notes · View notes

sleepinghypnos · 7 months

Text

IVE Wonyoung ft. Yujin x Male Reader (OC)

Tags: Smut

Genre: Facefucking, Blowjob, Breeding, Rough Sex, Female Idol x Male Reader (OC), Self-degradation, Filming (Recording), Cheating (Hard)

PS: This story is made through AI story generator that's why there's so much dialogue. I just tried using it to see if it's okay. Let me know if you have anything to say. I also added my own writing, it's when Yujin joins in. Thank you...

It's been a whole week since someone caught you in the act. She's a younger idol but one of the prominent ones in the industry, a former member of I*ZONE and now IVE.

You found it adorable when she displayed such a shocked and surprised expression when she saw what you did to her sunbaes... After the incident. the three of you went back to your seats and enjoy the remaining event arranged for idols.

Your bodyguarding duties continues the same with your escapades with the members of ITZY. Yuna and Chaeryeong always finding way to get fucked by you, the rest of the members on the hand shows support for their co-members.

In one of the music shows that ITZY attended, you met the young idol again and same with the last time, she is shocked to see you. Wonyoung tried to hide her flustered face but failed, her other members are with her that time and Yujin--- the oldest of them noticed how red as a tomato Wonyoung's face was.

ITZY is now preparing for a recording, you use this opportunity to grab Wonyoung into the isolated corner of the building, no one is going there, because it is creepy for some idols that's why they avoid this place.

Wonyoung felt your very strict and cold aura and she let you drag her. After several minutes she manage to talk to you. You arrived in the isolated spot, no one is around to find out what you are about to do. You drag her inside the room and locked the door.

"What are you doing?" Wonyoung asked. "Nothing," you replied. "You saw something, right?"

Wonyoung blushed and tried to get away from you. "Don't try to act innocent, i know you saw something you shouldn't have."

"I'm not going to tell anyone!" She cried out.

"Then why did you look so shocked when I looked at you?"

"I'm not!" Wonyoung yelled.

"But you were looking at me like that as if you also wanted what they had." you said.

"No I don't!" she shouted.

"Yes you do!"

"No I don't!" she screamed while looking at you.

"Yes you do!" You said again. then you release the monster hiding inside your pants and pulled down Wonyoung's panties.

"See? Your pussy is wet for me already!" You said. A smirk is visible on your face.

"Stop this right now!" She said threatening you. But you didn't listen to her.

"You're gonna suck my cock and you're gonna love it!" you uttered.

Wonyoung was still trying to fight you, but you are too strong for her. You pushed her head towards your crotch.

"Suck my cock." you said. She started to protest, but before she could say anything, you shoved your cock into her mouth.

"Mmmmmm!" she moaned as she sucked on your cock.

She was a little surprised by how big it was, but she was even more surprised when you started to fuck her face. the young idol gagged every time you thrust forward, but she couldn't help herself.

The way you were fucking her face made her pussy tingle. She loved it, but she hated it at the same time. you're really rough with her, and she knew if she didn't stop you soon, you would cum in her mouth.

But Wonyoung had never tasted a guy's cum before, all she did was use her hands and some dildos to pleasure herself, deep down she wanted to have a taste. Curiosity got the best of her and let you have your way.

"Cum in my mouth!" Wonyoung begged. As she release your cock from her mouth to talk.

"Not yet." you replied. "When I tell you i'm cumming, you will swallow it!"

Wonyoung nodded her head in agreement.

"Now suck my balls!" you commanded. Wonyoung opened her mouth wide and stuck out her tongue.

You placed your balls in her mouth and started to squeeze them. she moaned loudly, and started to lick them clean. Then you put your cock in her mouth once more and started to fuck her face harder and faster.

Your cock was hitting the back of her throat, and making her gag. But she didn't mind, she just wanted to feel him cum inside her.

"Oh yeah, you love my cock don't you?"

"Mmm!" She nodded while looking up to you with lust in her eyes.

"Good, because I'm about to cum!" you said.

"No wait!" she said. "I want to be fucked, please!"

You laughed. "I can't believe you are being such a whore, you're gonna get what you deserve!" you said while smirking.

With that, you shoved your cock all the way down Wonyoung's throat. She gagged and struggled against you, but you are too strong for her. "That's it! Take my cock!"

Wonyoung felt your cock twitch in her throat.

"Uuuuugh!" you moaned. "I'm cumming!" as you feel your climax quickly approaching.

She gagged and choked on your cock, but she kept sucking. "Swallow it!" you are holding her head tightly. Ropes of thick cum burst inside Wonyoung's mouth, after a while your orgasm stopped.

"I'm swhallow-ing yhour chum!" she's trying to speak while her mouth is still full of your load. You released your grip on her hair, and let go of her head. She swallows your cum and licks her lips like she just tasted something delicious. "It's yummy!!!"

"Now suck my cock clean!" Wonyoung smiled and licked your cock clean. "Now get on your hands and knees."

She quickly got onto her hands and knees. you grabbed hold of her hips and prepared to thrust yourself deep inside her ass. Teasing her with your tip, she quiver. Looks like she's sensitive now.

You proceed on penetrating the young idol. "Ahhhhh!" she moaned.

"Oh yeah, you like that don't you?" asking her while kissing the back of her neck.

"Yes! Fuck me hard!" she's moaning as you thrust in her in a slow pace.

"Do you want to get fucked hard?" You asked.

"Yes!" she replied, looking back at you.

"Say it again!" you demanded.

"I like to get fucked hard!" Wonyoung said. You started to pound her hard from behind.

"Ahhh! Shiiiit! FUCK!" Wonyoung moaned.

"Yeah, you like that huh?"

"Yes! Fuck me harder!" Wonyoung said moaning and screaming.

"You like being fucked hard? You like getting fucked by me?" You said.

"Yes!" she said, her face is full of lust as she looks back at you.

"Say it louder!" You demanded.

"I LIKE GETTING FUCKED HARD!!!" she shouted. you continued to fuck her hard from behind making lewd noises together with her lustful voice. you reached around and grabbed her breasts. "Oh yeah! Grab my tits!" she screamed. "You like my big cock in your tight little ass?"

"Yes! Fuck me harder!" she said. "Shit! Claim me, claim me as yours!!"

You continue pounding her making her convulse as you cum inside of her tight little asshole. You saw her face and her eyes were rolled back, she collapses on the couch inside this room with her ass hanging in the air. She's still on her performance stage outfit and the only missing is her panties that you removed few moments ago.

Pulled out of her and slapped her ass. "Turn over! I'm not done with you."

She flipped over and laid on her back to spread her legs. "Now show me that tight little cunt of yours."

She lifted her skirt up to reveal her shaved pussy.

"Oh yeah, look at that tight little cunt!" You exclaimed. "Show me how wet you are!"

Wonyoung began rubbing her clit. "Ahhh!" she moaned while her eyes were intently looking at you.

"Yeah, rub that clit!" you uttered. "Do you want me to fuck your pussy?"

"Yes sir! Please fuck me hard!" Wonyoung begged, her voice is full of lust and longing. She looks like a bitch in heat.

"How hard do you want it?"

"Hard! Harder than you've ever fucked anyone before!" Wonyoung said. You grabbed hold of her wrists and held them above her head.

"Are you ready?" you asked.

"Yes!"

"Are you sure?" Teasing her on purpose.

"Yes! I'm sure!" she said while nodding, eager to fill your cock inside her.

"Then tell me what you want!"

"Fuck me!"

"What else?" You asked as you cupped her cheek with a gentle touch, she closes her eyes because of it and slowly opens it again, looking at you with resolve.

"I want your big cock deep inside my pussy!" Amusement filled your entire system as you see this young woman beg for your cock.

"Say it louder!" Fascinated by her words, you asked for more. You want her to beg for more.

"Fuck me! Fuck me with your big hard cock!" she begged while anticipating your response to her whims.

You placed the tip of your cock against her pussy lips.

"Good girl!" you patted her head. "I'm going to fuck you now!"

You penetrated the glistening cunt of hers, slowly yet in one go. Her mouth formed "O" as she feels her tight little pussy getting filled by your cock, her eyes were once again rolled back as you pound her faster and with more rhythm.

Her heavenly moans filled your ears as you spear her with your huge rod, the young idol is in a trance.

She's getting drunk because of your cock, her eyes rolled back, tongue lolling out, Wonyoung is displaying a perfect ahegao for you.

You became daring, you told her to call her Yujin unnie and invite her into into the isolated area where you're in.

Few minutes came by and Yujin arrived, she witness how her co-member getting fuck by someone but instead of getting shock and surprise, she immediately came inside, closed the door and locked it.

"Is this the thing you want to show me, Wonyoung?" Yujin asked Wonyoung while staring at you with a huge smile on her face. "Yes unnie! O-oppa wants you to j-join me. Aaahh!" Wonyoung replied struggling to say her words.

"I can't believe this is happening... But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious..." Wonyoung and Yujin look at each other. "Okay, I'll do it. I've never done anything like this before though...."

Then you pulled out of Wonyoung and the two of them knelt down in front of you, Wonyoung takes the lead and starts licking up and down the shaft while Yujin watches.

"See, just start slow like this." Wonyoung takes your tip in her mouth and sucks it gently. "Mmm. Your turn now."

Yujin leans in hesitantly and licks the head of your cock. "How's that feel? I-- no, we want to make you feel good." Then they take turns sucking you, gazing up for your praise and approval.

You praise them and they smile excitedly and continued taking turns licking and sucking your cock.

"Mmm. I can't believe I'm sharing you with Yujin... It's naughty but so hot..." Wonyoung said, Yujin gets more into it, trying to take your huge cock deeper in her mouth.

"That's it, you're a natural..." Wonyoung then proceeds to lick your balls while the other is busy gagging and choking on your cock.

They sometimes kiss, moaning on each other's lips. "Does it turns you on to see us being intimate? We want to please you." Wonyoung said to you and made an eye contact with Yujin while they lick your tip together, their tongues slides on your shaft's both sides.

Wonyoung's eyes go wide as you grab Yujin and starts fucking her throat. "Oh my gosh! Be gentle with her, Oppa."

Yujin gags and sputters but keeps taking it. "That's it. Breathe through your nose... You can handle it!" She encourages her then rub her back soothingly. "It feels so good doesn't? Getting used like a little fucktoy..." Yujin moans affirmatively as you keep pumping into her mouth.

Even though your cock can't be deepthroated by anyone, having the half of it gets to experience it feels heavenly. Sometimes you wonder, is being well-endowed a curse because you can't fully experience the 'Deepthroat' or a blessing to make women compliment you for being 'Huge'

"Fuck! This is so hot watching you use her face." Wonyoung said and reach down and touch herself, she's getting extra wet from the sight.

"I want you to fuck my throat next, i want my turn again like earlier." Eagerly awaits her turn, kissing Yujin's face when you finally pulls out of her mouth.

You gave Wonyoung her wish and fucks her throat again. Her eyes widen then gag as you shove your cock down her throat without warning.

"Mmmph!" Her throat bulges from your girth. Yujin watches excitedly, playing with herself now too as you fuck Wonyoung's face.

"That's right, give it to our little slut... She loves being used hard, i can tell..." Yujin said while still playing with herself.

Tears run down on Wonyoung's face but you can feel that she's focus on relaxing her throat for you. "Fuck yes.... S-so d-deep... Use m-me..." Then grips on your thighs eagerly, addicted to the feeling of being facefucked. You pull out and she gasp for air desperately.

"Yes... fuck my mouth as hard as you want, I'm your little cocksleeve..." She opens her mouth wide again waiting for you to fill her throat once more.

"Yujin, film this." You said while still facefucking Wonyoung.

Yujin's eyes lights up to your idea. "Of course! This is so naughty, i love it!" She pulls out her phone and starts filming as you ruthlessly fuck Wonyoung's throat. "Oh my god! This is so fucking hot... The fans would go crazy if they saw our Wony getting used like a whore."

Wonyoung glances at the camera with desperation and lust in her eyes, her throat bulging obscenely.

"Fuck yes, destroy her throat... I know she's going to be slut the moment I saw her when we're doing Produce 101." Yujin said zooming on Wonyoung's face turning red and tears running down her cheeks.

"Scream if you can still take it." You pull out your cock from Wonyoung's mouth for a moment.

"YES DADDY! PLEASE FUCK MY SLUTTY LITTLE MOUTH!!!" Wonyoung screams eagerly before you shove your cock back in.

Many minutes passed and you are closing to the edge. "Yujin, kneel beside her, continue filming. I'm cumming." You said.

Yujin kneels next to Wonyoung, making sure to get a good view as you reach climax. "That's right, cum all over these slutty idol's faces!"

Wonyoung braces herself as your cock throbs, then you pull out and shoot ropes of hot cum across both of their faces and open mouths.

"Oh my god, yes!" They moan as your load splatters them. Yujin, films eagerly as Wonyoung licks some off her cheek and swallows it.

"Thank you Daddy, for the tasty reward. We love being showered in your hot and thick cum." Wonyoung said and they started kissing and licking each other clean, moaning at the taste of your seed.

You hold the camera as they face it getting ready to say something.... "We hope you enjoyed using your little cumdumps... We're yours anytime you want us again, Daddy!" Wonyoung said and Yujin agreed then blows a sticky cum-covered kiss at the camera as you end the recording.

"Daddy, I want our co-members to watch this. Is that okay?" Wonyoung asked.

"It would be so hot to watch this later together with our other members. Imagine their faces!" Yujin smirks and Wonyoung giggles.

You let them do whatever they want with the footage since it's Yujin's phone.

"Gaeul's eyes would go so wide! And Rei would turn the brightest red." They both giggles at their plan and you just shook your head.

Your commanding tone when you drag Wonyoung into the room vanished since now she won't say anything to anyone. She's yours now together with Yujin.

"We want more... Daddy." Wonyoung take my hand flirtatiously. "I want to get fucked again, you said you are not done with me after you came inside my tight little asshole earlier." Begging for your cock again.

You oblige. "All fours." That's all you need to say and she gasp excitedly.

"Oh yes please! I want you so badly!" she quickly get on all fours, arching her back and looking over her shoulder at me. "Like this? I'm ready for you to fuck me nice and hard..." reaches back and lift her skirt revealing once again her glistening cunt.

Yujin began filming again but not including your face since you didn't say so. "That's it Wony! Beg for it, like the slut you are."

"Please Daddy, fuck me!" She presented her pussy to me by arching her back even more. You spread her ass cheeks apart and slowly slid your huge rod inside her crying cunt.

Yujin zooms in as you penetrate her members pussy. "My god!"

Wonyoung whimpers as pussy get's stretched out because of your thick girth. "Oh! Fuck, you're so b-big Daddy!"

As you go in and out, she started taking your cock actively, pushing her ass back to take you deeper. "Yes! Fuck your little cockslut! Ruin me please!"

Yujin captures every moment, biting her lip. "Our fans would lose their minds if they saw this!"

"Too bad I'm the only one who gets to fuck you likes this." You said and piston the young idol beneath you.

Wonyoung cry out as you start pounding her pussy hard and fast. "Oh fuck yes! You're the only one who gets to fuck me-- us like t-this!"

Yujin zooms in on your cock slamming in and out of Wonyoung's pussy. "Damn! Look at that tight hole stretch... you're destroying her."

The idol grips the sofa, eyes rolling back and tongues lolling out as you rail her without mercy. "YES YES YES! HARDER DADDY! USE ME!" she reaches back and spread her cheeks widely. "I'm your personal fucktoy! None of those pathetic fanboys deserve me."

Her moans filled the room, as it did earlier. You pulled Wonyoung's hair back as you fuck her intensely. "Film her face." You said.

Yujin quickly moves in front of Wonyoung, focusing on her face as you pull the young idol's hair. "Shit! Look at her face! Our Wony is totally lost in pleasure!" Her eyes rolled back, tongue lolling out as you utterly ravage her pussy.

"Fuck! Yes! Harder!" Drool runs down her chin. "Cum inside me! Please fill me with your virile cum! I need it so bad!!" Shameless, slutty words spills out from her mouth between moans and screams of ecstasy.

"I'm cumming!" You feels your climax closing in and you spank her ass red while still pulling her hair. She screams out because what you did.

"Yes! Please c-cum inside Daddy! Fill up your fucktoy!" She said and Yujin makes sure to get a close up as you drive deep inside Wonyoung one last time.

The latter feels your cock throbbing as you start to cum. "Yes, give it to me. Pump your seed deep inside of me." Her eyes still rolled back and moaning whorishly as you fill her up, and her cumming as well. You pulled out and your mixed loads leaks out of her pussy to her thighs, she lays on her back on the sofa.

"Oh shit! Look at her belly, it's bulging! You came so much inside her." Yujin said while filming the thoroughly used Wonyoung.

"It's my turn now, right?" She said and looks at me. "But I want my turn to be filmed as well, let's wait for Wony to regain at least the strength to stand up."

And so you waited, after 15 minutes Wonyoung stood up and the afterglow covers her entire aura, the feeling of satisfaction really shows.

This time you are going to do Missionary, because you want to watch Yujin's face as you fuck her.

She lays on the sofa waiting for your cock to ravage her. "Don't worry, you are going to love it. I promise!" Wonyoung said cheering her up while holding Yujin's phone, ready to start recording the slutty moments of her co-member.

There is no need for foreplay since Yujin is already soaking wet, she moans as you start to push inside her pussy hole. "Oh fuck! Y-you feel so good s-stretching me open!" looking at you lustfully.

"You're so fucking d-deep! You are hitting all the places that my boyfriend can't even reach." You are taken back because she have a boyfriend but instead of being guilty, you plow her hard making her scream.

"Take my cock!"

"Yes! Give it to me! Your cock feels so good!!!" Her perky tits bounce with each of your powerful thrusts. Wonyoung make sure to get close ups of your thick shaft pounding Yujin's slick hole.

"You won't feel your boyfriend's thing anymore after I'm done with you."

Yujin's eyes widen at your words. "O-oh fuck, you're r-right! My boyfriend's cock is nothing compared to yours!" Her pussy clenches tightly around you as she gets closer to orgasm. "After feeling this, I'll only crave you fucking me from now on! Ruin me f-for any o-other man!"

Wonyoung focuses the camera to Yujin's pussy as you pound her relentlessly. "Damn! Look at that slutty idol pussy clamping down... I think she's ready to cum all over your cock Daddy!"

"Yes! Please l-let me c-cum! Make me y-yours!" Her moans reach a fever pitch. "Oh fuck yes! I-i'm cumming! I'm cumming just for you!" Her body trembles and spasms wildly, pussy gushing around your pistoning cock.

"I'm cumming as well!"

Yujin's eyes go wide as she feels your cock throbbing and swelling bigger inside her. "Oh g-god yes, cum in me! I want to feel you filling me up!" She rubs her belly, feeling it bulge obscenely from the size your cock and load. "I can feel you in my stomach! There's so much and it feels so warm..."

Wonyoung zooms in as some of your thick cum leaks out around your shaft while still deep inside Yujin. "Holy shit! Look at that creampie! You totally filled Yujin up to the brim!"

Yujin moans, still trembling from the force of her orgasm. " (IVE) never felt so full... So completely owned and fucked, my boyfriend can't even make me cum. I'm definitely addicted to your huge cock now..."

You're sitting on the sofa while the other two is in front of you kneeling....

Then they have a discussion about how big your rod is. "Daddy, your cock is incredible! (IVE) never seen anything so big and thick before." Wonyoung said and she reaches out your still erect cock and strokes it. "It's easily over 10 inches.... I felt so stretched and filled when you were inside me. Seriously, our poor little pussies didn't stand a chance!"

Yujin looks at me. "Having this huge cock fuck me was the most intense and pleasurable experience of my life." She kisses the tip softly. "I know I'll be craving having my pussy absolutely ruined by it again and again... I'll need this anaconda forever."

"Don't have sex with your boyfriend for now, he'll for sure know that you got stretched out."

Yujin nods obediently. "You're absolutely right, Daddy. After being stretched out so much by your huge cock, my boyfriend would definitely be able to tell." She looks down submissively. "I should avoid having sex with him for now, My pussy belongs to you now... I don't want anyone else inside me."

"Yeah, look at that gape! Her boyfriend would get lost in there now!" Wonyoung giggles at her statement making Yujin blush. "Once you go big, there's no going back..."

Well... Here's another story, I hope you enjoy this kind of format. I'm more comfortable writing this way cuz of my lack of imagination.... Thank you for reading!!! There is another part after this....

#kpop smut #smut #kpop fic #wonyoung smut #yujin smut #IVE smut

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daydream-cement · 6 months

Text

Laundry Service (NSFW)

Larissa Weems x Reader

Larissa helps you out.

Author's Note: Short smut (600 words). This was originally about one of my oc's, but I couldn't resist adding the Headmistress in instead.

You stretched down into the washing machine. You couldn’t believe how hard it was to get to the bottom. You always felt as if you were average height, but as your fingers barely reached the last few socks at the bottom.

When Larissa passed by the laundry room, she had to do a double take at the sight of you bent over into the washing machine. You were in your lazy Sunday clothes - tight leggings that showed off every curve and an oversized sweater that shifted out of place to expose your midriff. Your feet dangled off the ground as you struggled to snatch up all of the little pieces of laundry alluding you at the bottom of the washer.

Larissa couldn’t resist coming up behind you. Her hands slowly moved to grip your waist, giving your body a light squeeze.

At first you jolted in surprise, but you soon realized it was Larissa from the familiarity of her hands on your skin, “Oh, honey! Can you help me?”

“Happy too.” Larissa cooed, curling her fingers around the band of your leggings and underwear.

The shapeshifter was often reserved in her sexual pursuits of you, but that reservation was nowhere to be seen as she dropped to her knees, pulling your pants down with her.

You gasped, hands gripping the edge of the washing machine. Your cheeks flushed red as you exclaimed, “Rissa!”

“I'm helping…” Larissa husked as her hands palmed your ass for a moment before shifting her hands to cup it gently. She used the leverage of her hand placement to spread your thighs to access your cunt.

You sucked in a breath when you felt the shapeshifter plunge her tongue into your cunt.

Larissa was eating you with a starving fervor that had you mewling and humming in response. The rim of the washing machine was digging into your abdomen, but that was feeling like far less of a priority at the moment.

In the few moments Larissa would come up for air from your cunt, she was gasping phrases of adoration - ‘I love you’, ‘You’re perfect’, and ‘You taste incredible’ were repeated over and over.

You couldn’t last long. Between the setting, the dominance, and and the sensation, all of the elements combined in a way that had you gushing on Larissa’s chin.

When the shapeshifter took to sucking on your clit, you had no ability to hold back any longer. You came with a cry, but just because you came didn’t mean the shapeshifter was about to stop.

Larissa lapped at your cum until she was sure she had cleaned you up enough.

When Rissa was satisfied, she pushed herself to stand, pulling your pants back up with her. She wiped her face and with a strong arm around your middle, Larissa pulled you from the washing machine and manhandled you into a position where she could seat you on the dryer.

Larissa then moved away from your dazed form, leaning into the washing machine and yanking out the remaining laundry with a single hand. The shapeshifter tossed the few socks into the nearby laundry basket you had been using before turning her attention back on you, “I hope that helped, darling.”

Larissa turned on her heels, leaving you wide eyed, “Wha- Rissa?”

“If you need anything else, let me know.” Larissa called from the hallway.

“Rissa-“ You called, jumping down from the dryer, cut off by tripping over the basket of damp laundry. You were scrambling as you picked up the laundry from the floor and shoved it in the dryer, continuing to call Larissa’s name as you turned on the dryer and chased your wife down the hall.

Taglist: @charymobile, @bri-sonat, @weemswife , @smutuniversesblog , @opheliauniverse, @teashock , @enchantressb , @alex-nyx , @renravens , @whenyouhaveanobsession , @scream-queenlover , @shyladyfan, @lilfartbox1, @rubberduckiesbathing , @mcufanisme , @peanutbutterprincess, @larissaoftarthweems , @sicklygrlsicklygrl , @lvinhs , @myzzjolanda , @principal-weems09 , @xuukoo , @brienneswife , @dumbasslesbi , @oculusalien , @sweetderacine , @giogwensversion , @milciak , @gela123 , @thevillagegay , @katiemcgrathsbitch1 , @naomi-m3ndez , @mysaviorfalsegod , @h-doodles , @salems-spaghettios , @imgayforwoman69 , @bychrissi, @alexusonfire, @weemssapphic, @kimiinou, @hiiamkatana, @mountain-bikingwitch, @willowshadenox, @aemilia19, @mommyslittlebaby, @agathaandgwenslesbian, @gay-frogs08

#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #larissa weems smut #principal weems #principal larissa weems #nevermore academy #wednesday netflix #fanfic #oneshot #gwendoline christie #smut #principal weems x reader #gwen christie

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nwndrlndn · 10 months

Text

Unintended

pairing : anakin skywalker x f!reader; mentions of anakin skywalker x padme amidala and f!reader x gn!oc | wc : 5.9k | 18+MINORS DNI

summary : vader never planned to love again, and you never thought he could

warnings : angst and smut, toxic relationships, possessiveness, threats of violence/murder, semi public sex, clothed sex, size difference, degradation and praise, improper use of the force, a bit of dacryphillia.

a/n : this was a passion project and its also my first ever fic and its probably shit. ive also never written smut before so pray for me <3

Palpatine had heard of your family's alliance with the rebels before Vader ever met you. At the Emperor’s request, the Death Star approached Karlinus, and Vader came to your planet. You had been working at your family’s tea shop when the dark lord entered. Immediately, there was a chill in the air. As a poor family, you did not know much about the Jedi or the Senate, and you had no options to do so after the empire took hold. So your life had to continue, working with your family at a tea shop.

At the moment you recognized that it was Darth Vader who had come into your family’s tea shop, he was already looking down at you, carefully taking in your features. Though you weren’t identical, the way you moved, the way you carried yourself, the way you treated others. It all reminded him of Padmè. With a light twist of his hand, he sent customers and your family to the wall, the tables, and tea cups shattering against the wall, and you stood in fear, shaking from the presence of the Imperial enforcer.

You watched, frozen, but unsure if it was fear or the force keeping you still as Vader took deliberate steps from the doorway to stand before you, barely a step away. Carefully, he lifted his hand to your cheek, touching where a stray piece of porcelain had cut your cheek and you flinched instinctively. He smeared the blood across your cheek as he looked down at you through the gaze of his red lenses, watching as you sucked in a breath, relishing as he used the force to hear how your body reacted. Vader smiled as he heard your breathing pick up and your heart race before he pulled back slightly, taking off his helmet to show his face.

You took in the details of his face, but when you tried to look into his yellow eyes, the feeling was so unnerving you had to look away. As you looked at him, you realized how attractive Vader truly was. His messy, curly-wavy shoulder-length brown hair, tanned skin, and the long scar across his right eye. He had a broad athletic build and was muscular, and in his suit, you barely reached his shoulders. He had a well-defined jawline, high cheekbones, and a straight nose. For a moment, you felt like you were looking at an actor from a holodrama, not a Sith Lord.

“Name," Vader said coldly, and you looked away from fear that you would be punished for staring. But you couldn't avoid his gaze as he suddenly grabbed you by your jaw, his fingers digging into your cheeks, and his gaze intensely focused on you.

“Y/N…" You said breathlessly, trying not to say anything from his harsh grip on you. He stared a moment longer before he nodded. His hand moved to move away stray strands of hair from your face. Vader’s glare was hot and made you want to squirm, but in his mind, he was imagining a new life for you.

“Salomé," Vader said flatly as he grabbed your arm. “That is what you will be called now. You are Salomé Amidala.” He said before he shoved you towards the clones that accompanied him.

After you were taken, your parents turned their backs on the rebels, aligning themselves with the Empire in the hopes that they would see you again. But, Vader never allowed them, he never let his new bride out of his sight. It was a message to the rebels, that hope stood no place in this galaxy.

Darth Vader sits on his throne in his Imperial Fortress on Mustafar. The room is lit carefully to intimidate his visitors and advisors. Without looking, you know what he looks like. After nearly 6 months of marriage, you knew him as well as you knew yourself, though he hadn’t put in the same effort for you. You know the way the slight breeze from the fan hits his face and makes him blink more, how his hair is pushed back by this breeze, showing off scars on his cheeks and over his right eye, and you know he has never smiled, not even the day he married you.

You stay still, weighed down by the traditional Nabooian clothes, headpieces and face paint you are made to wear. The black silk gown had red embroidered motifs with a potolli fur trim. The bottom of the dress wide skirt was decorated with red kyber crystals. You fiddled with a piece of the headpiece that reached your hand. Two frame faces sit on either side of your headpiece as various red jewels fall on silver chains, from the top of your head and down your back.

As Vader deals with meeting after meeting, request after request, he does not acknowledge you as you sit by his side, and you stay silent, not wishing to upset him. As an old advisor drones on and on, only every few moments, he pauses to look at you a bit better.

There were whispers across the galaxy, ones your handmaidens told you as they readied you in the morning. That the people had begun to believe that Padmé Amidala lived, that the sith had found a way to bring life back to the dead. Everyone thought Padmé was back, but she wasn’t. And Vader did not love you like he loved her, he couldn't. He had reminded you enough, you may be his bride but he will always love her and not you.

As you start to pay attention to the meeting again, you listen to Vader rebuking the advisor – what was his name again? Bevinorr? Apprai? It hardly mattered, you never had to speak before and you’re sure that the day you will speak, you will meet Padmé Amidala for yourself– when something catches your attention.

"It seems, Sabitho, that you suffer from a severe lack of awareness," Vader's voice rumbles, his tone laced with a barely contained anger. "This is not Padmé Amidala you address, but my wife, Salomé. Address her correctly. Failure to do so will have consequences."

The advisor stammers, realizing his mistake, and quickly corrects himself. "Apologies, my Lord Vader. I meant no disrespect."

"See that it doesn't happen again," Vader warns, his voice filled with a dark warning. He turns his attention back to the advisor, his presence demanding absolute obedience. As you observe the interaction, feeling a mixture of gratitude and unease towards Vader's protection. It is a constant reminder that you are only a substitute for the woman he truly loves.

In Vader’s mind, that is all you were supposed to be only a replacement for what he had lost. You were not meant to be more than someone to keep him from being alone. So he didn’t let you get close. You were restricted to your own bed chamber on the opposite side of his own on the Fortress, he didn’t spend more time with you than needed, and he reminded himself of her every day.

Padmé. You would never be Padmé. You could never so completely own Vader’s heart as Padmé owned Anakin. You could not bring out anything else from him, not when he had already scooped out his whole being, gave her all of the good that could come out of him. And the good that Padmé so desperately believed was still inside of him? He scoured it the moment he learned he had killed her.

Anakin and Padmé were both dead, they died together on Mustafar with his dreams of a family, the lightness in him snuffed out because of his rage. He deserved to be alone and suffer, and yet… he couldn’t. Palpatine had forced him to take a bride, to get control of the family of rebel scum that left him with you. It had caused many on your home planet to surrender to the Empire and end their resistance. A victory by any means.

He can’t love. He is sure of it. What he did to his wife, the mother of his children, to Padmé is the proof alone. Then why was it that he felt that twinge in his chest after he would be particularly cruel to his Salomé? The first month, all she did was cry in her chamber and refuse to obey orders. It only served to infuriate him them. So he tried to be gentler to get her obedience. And when he did, she listened.

Some nights, she would still cry and he could sense it in the force. But most nights, she thought of a man, someone other than him. The only time he could sense any happiness, was at the thought of someone who wasn’t him. And thats when he felt the sinking feeling, one he felt when Rush Clovis and Padmé were alone together. So he spoiled Salomé, she was his after all. She should only think of him, he has brought her a life that she would have never lived if not for him. Salomé was his. She only needed to accept it.

Meeting after meeting comes and goes, and he continues to work. You take the time to think back to Karlinus, and the ones you left behind. One face comes first, before your parents and friends… Gracies Gras. Just thinking of them reminds you of the time you spent together; walking in the woods behind your houses, them gifting you silk dresses that you had eyed during trips to the city, and imagining a future together.

As your mind drifts to Gracies, a tear slips from your eye, streaking the white face paint on you and landing at the corner of your mouth. Your hand traces a small metal bracelet you wear, it held a small hologram of Gracies that you would speak to at night and it was programmed to respond. It was the only comfort you had and you were lucky not to lose it when Vader took you.

“We will rule the galaxy, as husband and wife.” Vader finally speaks, his gloved thumb wiping the tear from your mouth. You turn to face him, startled by his sudden interest in speaking to you and look around, realizing you two are alone in the room.

Darth Vader knows full well that you never wanted this life and he is well aware that you are in love with someone else. He hates this for so many reasons - the forming love he has for you, his jealousy and disdain for the other man, but most importantly because he never wanted to rule the galaxy. That was Palpatine’s goal. He would have been perfectly happy to just keep his new bride and destroy Palpatine if he had the opportunity. The Emperor had tricked him.

You stay silent for a moment, only nodding absently as to not upset him, but then you feel anger start to bubble up inside you. In all this time, you weren’t treated like a person, but rather a doll. Put in elaborate outfits each day and paraded around to show that Vader is not alone.

“You have forced this life upon me. I should working in my family’s tea shop on Karlinus, and marrying someone I love.” You slowly begin to speak, starting quietly, before you start to get more confident as you continue.

“I see, and who is this man you love?” Vader speaks, his tone threatening and he begins to grip the armrests of his chair tightly.

“He is a good man. A man who cares for me and others.” You respond defensively and avoiding his gaze.

“You do not think I care for you?” His voice threatens to break and his eyes narrow. The very thought that you could even think this sets him fuming. Despite his anger though he keeps his voice calm and even. When you don’t answer immediately, you feel your arm being grabbed and turned roughly to look at him. He stares at you intensely, his eyes boring holes into your very being. He looks as if he has no other thought in his mind beyond making his point of what he’s saying. You have no choice, you have to look into his eyes. He is completely unmoving and completely still. The rage inside him however is growing and threatening to break every second. How dare you even think that to be true. How dare you even have the audacity.

“I am the most powerful force user in the galaxy. No one can stand up to me. I am a Lord. A Lord of the Sith. I have brought peace, freedom, justice, and security to my new Empire. Do you not understand the power that I wield? And I care for you and only you.” This is as close to passionate and emotional as Darth Vader will ever get. He is making a point. You will not disrespect him. You. Will. Not.

“Let go of me.” You whisper helplessly, trying to tug your arm away from him. Vader’s words were one thing, but he never showed you love. And even if he did, you couldn’t trust him.

“Then perhaps you should leave, and go back to whoever you love.” Vader lets go of your arm and his expression becomes calm and stoic again, though his words still hold that edge that you’ve come to recognize that means he’s about to snap.

Vader stands up and takes a step towards you, towering over your very being. He leans down and puts his face right up close to yours, his breath warm as he whispers.

“Prove it. Prove that you mean what you say. Leave this place. Leave me. Leave this entire empire. Leave and go to him. If you truly want to leave, and truly love him, go try. You can leave at any time. Leave, but know I will be coming for you, and when I find you I will keep you. I will put you in your place. I will kill him. I will take you. You will be mine. I will not let you go. Is that understood?”

You’re silent, partially from shock and partially from your own anger. As you stare at him, he stares back and as he opens his mouth to repeat himself, you speak.

“I understand.”

Vader doesn’t react. For a moment, you think you’ve finally gotten to him, but he doesn’t even move. It’s as though this never even happened. He stares blankly at you with cold, black eyes, and slowly walks away, his form already fading out of the door before you can even react.

Over the next few days, you make your plans to leave carefully. You find a handmaiden that looks the most like you and help her learn to speak like you, act like you, and walk like you. After a few more days of practice, you manage to assemble a disguise and kit to stow away with onto a starfighter that you have been learning to fly.

At the same time, Vader already knows of your plans and has steps in place so he can follow you if and when you escape. He slowly walks from his meeting to his meditation chamber. He enters, and without even an ounce of hesitation, he sits down, and he begins to meditate. He allows himself to clear his mind, until all that is left is his connection with the Force.

Let me hear her voice. Let me hear her voice one more time. Vader whispers to himself, before closing his eyes and beginning deep breathing. As always, an image of Salomé flashes through his mind. Her eyes, her face, her smile, all of it is as clear as ever to him. He breaks his meditation, opening his eyes. A small smile crosses his lips, the first expression he has had in a long, long while. He gestures towards the door, and in an instant it slides open. He stares at you as you attempt to sneak by in your disguise, and his face is once again stoic.

You stare back, the hood of your cloak falling and you realize your error. As you start to back away, Vader is already standing and walking to you and in a heartbeat, he pulls you towards him and holds you in his arms, refusing to let you go.

“I will never love you.” You whisper helplessly, all of your attempts to get out of his grip failing. Vader lets out a laugh, but only for a brief moment. He keeps you close to him, and seems to draw confidence from being by your side. He holds you in his arms, his face inches from yours.

“Oh, but you will. You will. In time, Salomé, you will love me. And when you do, everything else will become so much easier. I will protect you. I will always be by your side.” Vader whispers to you, and in his voice is so much confidence and resolve. He pulls you closer to him, just as determined to prove you wrong. And as you stand there, the only two people in the room, you can feel the air slowly grow colder around you, as if the Force is growing stronger with every passing second.

“I will see to it that you won’t have any other option but to love me. And when you do, everything else will fall into place.” He whispers, his voice filled with a confidence that you are starting to find yourself slowly but surely starting to believe.

“Love should be given freely. That wouldn't be love” You whisper, your heart racing from the stress of the situation, you try to push at his chest and he lets you this time. He looks down at you and holds your arm to keep you in place

A small hint of annoyance creeps into his voice now, just a tiny little crack in the mask of stoicism holding everything together. “Oh, no, it is absolutely love.” You’ve never heard him sound this stern before, as if he’s somehow insulted by what you’ve just said. “You’ll see. You won’t believe what I am capable of, but I can and I will make you love me. I will find a way. You will love and adore me by your own doing, of that I can assure you.”

Your mind drifts away to Gracies for a moment and you realize your mistake when Vader smirks down at you. Slowly, he dips his head down to you and whispers into your ear. “Go on, Abbie, tell me. Tell me who he is. Tell me who you love more than your own husband.” The Force around them seems to be crackling now.

“If I tell you, you’ll kill him.” You whisper in horror and this does not seem to faze him in the slightest. Instead, he only grows more determined, more resolved to do what he has set his mind to.

“Oh no, Salomé. This is a necessary sacrifice. I need to know.” Vader leans in even closer, his voice even quieter, as if only you and him can hear each other, as if the world is holding its breath. “So go on, Abbie. Tell me.” He whispers, a strange mixture of anticipation, confidence, and fear in this voice. He laughs slightly, and he grabs your chin and forces your head to look up at him.

You stay silent, hoping it will help. You carefully back away to try and run until you hit a wall and Vader moves with you, his hands caging you in. You can hear his breath on your ear and you screw your eyes shut. “Oh, you can’t run from me this time. I’ve got you.”

“Salomé. Tell me. Tell me, I need to know.” His voice sounds more pleading now, that hint of fear creeping back into it. He stares at you, the Force around you still crackling with power. And then, he leans in even closer, until you are practically touching noses.

“Tell. Me. Now. Y/N.” He whispers to you, the words sounding so much softer, so much more vulnerable than they usually do. Your eyes open as you hear your name for the first time in months. You hold his gaze as one of his gloved hands trail down your arm, stopping at your metal bracelet.

“Y-you called me by my name.” You whisper and Vader nods before he slips off your bracelet and takes it in his hands. As soon as he does, you try to take it back and he uses the force to press you to the wall. He knows, you think to yourself, he knows and I just confirmed it.

“This bracelet? This bracelet is the key. The key to it all.” His eyes meet yours, you know he’s right. He leans in so close again, until you feel his lips on your cheek, and you feel that same strange mixture of emotions in his eyes again. You try to struggle but you cant and watch on helplessly.

“I’m sorry, Abbie. I have to. For your own good.” He whispers, his voice once again filled with that soft, pleading, and vulnerable sound. “And besides, we both know I’m not a patient man. I will not wait for you to change your mind. I will not be denied.” His voice starts to shake a little a little as he fights to keep it down.

“If you hurt them, I will never love you.” You whisper angrily. He stares at you for a moment, before finally cracking into a faint smile. He lets out a small chuckle, and leans in even closer to you, until you are almost touching. His smile grows wider, a mix of confidence, determination, and excitement in it.

“Oh, but I think you will. I will find a way. I will find a way to make you love me, and I won’t stop until I do. You’ll see.” He whispers to you. There’s just the faintest hint of coldness in his voice.

He walks up to you, until he is practically touching you, and his face is inches from yours. You try not to look away, not to show that you’re scared. You want to remain defiant, to not let this monster see any sign of weakness. And yet, it’s not working. All that he can see now is your fear, and it seems to delight him.

He stares at you for a long moment. The moment stretches on, and you feel the Force building around you like a pressure cooker about to explode. And then, he does something that catches you completely off guard: he kisses you, a sudden, angry, passionate kiss, that fills you with rage, rage that you feel building inside you, and suddenly you feel like you could blow up the whole room. He breaks the kiss, and for a moment seems surprised at himself too, before that coldness comes back into his gaze, and he speaks, his voice still ice cold.

You look away, a tear rolling down your face and messing creating a streak of your makeup. There is a weird conflict in your heart, to trust Vader’s love for you or to hope to return to Gracies. Until now, you felt trapped but you never felt so conflicted. He was your husband, and you were his wife, you never even gave him a chance.

His coldness turns soft for a moment as he leans in again and softly pushes your hair down your face, so that it covers your makeup and hides the tear. In a move that surprises you again, he brushes a soft, gentle kiss to your cheek. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I really am.” His voice sounds so soft and kind, only you know it isn’t like him at all. He leans in again, but this time he doesn’t kiss you, and instead whispers so that only you can hear.

“Please forgive me. This, Y/N, is real. I love you.” He whispers, and you feel something in your heart stur. The same wonder you had when you first saw him, and you look at his face. He lowers his head again and kisses your jawline, his eyes shut as he lets out a shaky breath. “Please?” He asks, leaning lower to place kisses to your neck and shoulder.

You shut your eyes for a moment, trying to focus but his gentle kisses and soft bites stop your ability to think clearly. “Vader.” You whisper softly, your hands sliding up his back and tangling themselves in his hair. He lets out a content sigh as he presses you against the wall with a bit more force, his hands moving from your hips up to your waist as he tilts his head up to kiss you again.

Your lips meet in a passionate kiss, and his gloved hands slide your cloak off your shoulders and he pulls back to look at you. His brows furrow as he notices you aren’t wearing one of the gowns he had made for you and are just in a basic dress. “I suppose you really did mean to run away.”

“I did.”

“You did. Have you changed your mind?”

Your face heats up and before you can speak, he kisses you again, his hands undoing the back of your dress and tugging it down impatiently. Once the dress slides down, he lifts you off the ground slightly to kick it away with your bracelet before setting you down again. He kneels down before you, his face in line with your navel and he leans up, one of his large hands palming at one of your breasts while his lips find the other. He shuts his eyes as he gives your nipple messy open mouth kisses and you let out a moan, letting your head fall back against he hallway’s wall.

“Do you forgive me?” He mumbles against your breast, placing light kisses between soft nips. Before you can answer, he moves to your other breast and repeats his previous ministrations. You let out soft moans and your hands were tugging at his hair, making him groan against you. You were cautious not to be too loud, not wanting to draw attention from any clones. “I need you to forgive me. I love you.” He whispers, his hands gently massaging their way up from your calves to your thighs.

“I for-forgive you.” You whisper, you open your eyes to look down at him. Your hands were still tugging at his hair and he looks up to you with an almost dazed look in his eyes. His brows furrow when he notices how quiet you are trying to be before he kisses your stomach softly, he slides off his gloves, reveling one flesh arm and one cybernetic arm.

“Good, now tell me how good I’m making you feel.” He murmurs, slipping his flesh hand between your legs, a finger tracing your slit and gathering your growing arousal. “Tell me and I’ll make you feel better.”

“I feel really good.” You whisper, your hips bucking slightly searching for more and Vader tisks.

“Louder.” He says, before he dips his head and bites at one of your thighs. Vader’s hand still ghosting over your core and smirks as you drip onto his hand. “I can feel how wet you are, you cant deny it, whore.” He murmurs, dragging his lips against your thigh.

“I need you. I’m aching and I’m empty and I need you.” You say breathlessly, louder than before and as you try to grind down onto his hand, he uses the force to stop you. He smirks and slides a finger into you, watching as your breathing picks up and he sets a steady pace. Suddenly, he stands up again and uses the force to hold you up to the wall at his eye level.

You let out a gasp as Vader picks up his speed and presses against you, his lips settling on your collarbones, sucking and biting at them as he slides in a second finger. “If you need me so much, then you wont mind if I speed this up. A good whore would take it. And thats all you are, begging for me so desperately.” He murmurs against your chest, resting his head against it as he starts to rut against your leg to match his movements.

You steady your breath, looking at him before you try to take off his cape, or his armor, something to see him better and he kisses you passionately instead, pushing his tongue past your lips and practically swallowing your moans whole. “What do you think you’re doing, little one?” He whispers against the corner of your lips, his eyes shut as he waits.

“Wanted to see you.” You whisper back, and Vader smirks, adding a third finger and keeping up his fast pace, making you whine. He digs his further a bit more, curling them until he find your spot, and you cry out.

“No need.” Vader whispers as he licks at your lips before pulling you in for another messy kiss. His fingers keep moving with perfect precision and you unravel on him. Vader pulls back enough to hear your moans and watch you as you pant to catch your breath

“Wanted touch you.”

“I’m touching you, that’s enough. Don’t be greedy.” He whispers in your ear before he slides his fingers out and licks them clean. He lets out a content sigh before he undoes his pants enough to get himself out and alines himself with your hole. You look at him as he focuses on sliding himself in slowly, groaning at the sensation. As he continues to sheath himself in you, you moan out, holding his shoulders tightly but your hands slip against his armor.

Once he’s fully inside, he pulls you in for another kiss, more gentle this time but still with passion. As he stays still, you try to move and he grabs your hips to stop you.

“Shit- Just give me a minute. I forgot how good this feels.” He groans out, biting at your earlobe. His hands slide up, groping at your body to keep you entertained as he collects himself.

“I need you.” You whine out desperately, trying to kiss him before he beats you to it, biting at your lip as he starts to move slowly, groaning against his lips and sighing.

“So fucking tight. Of course you are, you’re fucking tiny.” He groans into your ear and then picks up his speed. You keep trying to hold onto him, but your hands slip on his armor. Your moans and whines blend with his pants and groan as he hunches over you, licking and biting whatever skin he can reach, his hands bruising in the way he grabs at you.

“Say you're mine, little one. Say that you belong to me.” He groans against your neck, his movements rough and sloppy as he fucks into your hole. Vader bites into you harder than before and when you cry out, he kisses the bite. “You’re soaking my pants, you’re moaning like a little whore in my fortress, you’re mine, say it.”

“Y-yours. I’m yours… my lord.” You answer breathlessly, a tear runs down your face from the pain of his bite and he licks your tear away. Vader kisses the corner of your eyes and smiles against you. Your arms settle around his neck, hugging him to you and he leans in against your ear.

“All mine. You’re so precious. I promise, everyone will want to be you. No one will be as loved as you are Y/N. My little one.” He whispers his cybernetic arm rubbing harsh circles on your clit and you moan.

“I can’t.” You whisper, feeling your orgasm building up and you screw your eyes shut. Vader smirks and moves his hand faster as he keeps up his brutal pace.

“Show me, little one. Show me how good you feel.” He whispers, nuzzling against your ear as you finally release, hugging him tighter as your moans filled the hallway and a few thrusts later, Vader finishes in you, his head buried in the crook of your neck. As you both catch your breath, he carefully wraps you into your cloak and tucks his member back in his pants, and kisses your forehead.

“Do you love me now, Y/N.” He whispers, his lips still resting on your forehead.

“I-” You start, your mind a mess from everything that has just happened.

“More than you love Gracies Gras?”

#[ 🍒 ] — my works #[ 💫 ] — anakin #[ 🌑 ] — vader #star wars #anakin #anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker smut #anakin smut #anakin x y/n #anakin skywalker fic #star wars smut #star wars fanfiction #star wars fanfic #anakin skywalker fanfic #anakin fanfiction #anakin fanfic

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onlyswan · 1 year

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summary: in which sour and salt could be so sweet when jungkook’s existence reminds you that there is still good in the world.

> fluff, a pinch of angst, suggestive / wc: 3.1k

> warnings: mention of the doctor bc oc missed their period >:(, allusion to s/x, making out, jungkook doing pull ups must be a warning for the faint hearted like me

note: we’re going through the seasons?! partly inspired by #that live and jungkook for calvin klein <3 we’ve all seen those pictures right… right… i hope the onlyswan prophecy continues with this drabble i need to see jungkook do pull ups at the beach <3 + reblogs & feedback are always appreciated :D

—

jungkook is a sunkissed daydream and a shirtless adonis. his tender hands are on your bare thighs, keeping himself steady on the light brown sand while you sit still and look pretty on a log.

“baby, are you pregnant?”

when a man spits out this question, it usually sounds a little bit something like an anxious and insensitive ‘you’re not pregnant, are you?’ your starry-eyed boyfriend is asking you in a calm tone, joking for the most part, yet genuine wonder is painted on his face as if you’re just supposed to tell him what day of the week it is.

you stare at him with a blank expression, silent for a moment as the fierce waves crash on the shore, finding it difficult to take him seriously. “i don’t know. did you break a condom?”

he breaks eye-contact to space out, pursing his lips as he pretends to be immersed in deep thought.

“uhh, not to my knowledge.”

“then i’m not.” you shrug your shoulders with a cheeky grin, scrunching your nose. “will you steal some mangoes for me now, please?”

“is my baby craving for them that bad?” he coos at you softly, inching closer to press a kiss on your lips. “no but why do you always ask me to steal mangoes for you?”

“what do you mean ‘always’? this is only the second time.” you scoff, offended by the accusation, shoving him lightly but he quickly takes a hold of your arms to save himself from falling.

he chuckles lightheartedly, recounting the first time you visited his hometown and you took a walk around his neighborhood together. you looked at the mango tree with so much longing, and he had so much love for you, it was untameable.

nothing much has changed.

except for the color of the mangoes, perhaps. they were yellow back then, ripe and soft. you ripped off the fragile skin with your bare hands as you devoured the nectar-filled fruit, and the both of you came home to his parents’ house sticky and satiated like little kids who played under the sun from noon to afternoon. today, they’re green and plump, and truthfully, his mouth is watering for a taste.

“you know, since the tree is directly infront of our villa-” he tilts his head to the side, briefly looking at your temporary private residence. “it’s technically ours, so it’s not stealing.”

your eyes are glitter with mischief, and they communicate without words before you burst into a fit of revitalizing giggles, filling your empty tummy with a childlike joy.

—

for a while before jungkook, you’d forgotten people are kind. you chose to live for yourself, and yourself only, because you thought that if you lose sight of your plans for the future because of a impetuous slip within the thrill of temptation, you would also lose the essence of your being that you’re actively fighting so hard to get a good grasp of. you’re in a never-ending, excruciating process of picking apart your identity; detaching yourself from what you learned in the past to make room for growth; and swallowing bitter pills of hard-taught lessons. but when you’re in a relationship, every decision goes through a filter, a need for an answer to the question of how would this make my partner feel?

your friends still ask from time to time, what it is about jungkook that made you bend this principle and compromise your plans when those were the reasons you impulsively ended relationships in the past.

you’d forgotten people are kind.

jungkook is messy. he always leaves behind a fragment of his heart, and you shake your head and you pick up each one to stuff it in the shallow pocket of your understanding of love… until the weight of them destroyed said pocket, and all of a sudden, you have awoken. he opened your eyes to the underlying implication of that filter, how having something sacred to protect is also what makes life more worth living after all.

more than two hours ago, at seven in the morning, he held back your hair while you emptied your guts in the toilet bowl. a week ago, he held your hand in the doctor’s waiting room and didn’t let go until your name was called. that same night, you sulked about the doctor concluding that the reason you didn’t get your period last month was stress again and he teared up when you said i eat well, and i exercise regularly. but in the end it’s all useless because stress is messing up my body and i can’t control it. what do i do? the next day, he cheerfully asked you if you wanted to go see the ocean with him. right now, he’s hanging on a thick branch of a tree, enthusiastically doing pull ups while you peel the raw mangoes he picked out for you.

the familiar sounds of moans and grunts convince you to move the log you’re sitting on, abandoning the view of the majestic blue sky kissing the sparkling ocean in favor of facing your gorgeous boyfriend. he moves on to doing hanging knee tucks, pulling his knees to his chest and gradually increasing his speed and range of motion after gathering enough leverage.

“ah, this is tiring!” his yell ripples across the near-empty beach. he squeezes his eyes shut, laughing through the pain that hurts so good.

you set aside the paring knife on the plain white porcelain plate, dipping a piece of mango in the hill of salt before taking a bite (you played rock-paper-scissors to decide who would call the front desk for salt and you won after jungkook said he lost because his rock was made of paper). this, it’s just what you needed to cure the lethargy that’s been eating away at you. the combination of sour and salty explodes in your taste buds, remedying your awful loss of taste and appetite.

you shudder in sheer delight, smiling sweetly at the man brazenly showcasing his strength infront of you. “i like this a lot. i can feel my stress melting away… like ice cream under the sun.”

“i’m happy you’re enjoying yourself while i-” he cuts off his sentence, letting himself fall on the sand before jumping again to adjust his grip on the rough wood. once again, he hauls his legs upward repeatedly, reaching higher and higher each time. he releases loud huffs of air, grunting raspily with every exertion of force.

you stifle a scandalous gasp when his knees touch his wrists, covering your mouth as you grind the food with your teeth. okay, you know damn well he is flexible and a human-shaped vessel of physical strength, but you mostly witness their irrefutable testaments during intense moments of love and lust… the blissful memories can be kind of hazy.

he heaves a deep sigh, taking a rest as he hangs motionless on the branch. picture-perfect, center-frame for your adoring eyes to feast upon. his honey skin is glazed with a fine sheen of sweat, further accentuating the well-defined muscles of his torso. you only get a tease of his v-line. it hides beneath the exposed white band of his calvin klein underwear peeking above his black swimming shorts. his stomach rises and falls with each breath, and you can’t help but to marvel at his abs with appreciation. beautifully prominent, sculpted not too much. you love that when you touch them, you still feel the tenderness of his flesh, so rawly and so uniquely jungkook.

“you like what you see?” he grins when your eyes meet, winking at you flirtatiously.

“i do.” you sheepishly admit, scrunching your nose before putting another slice of mango on top of your tongue. “keep going. i want to see more.”

“more? you want more?! aish- so demanding.” he complains, thick satoori accent dripping from his voice but still, he gives you more.

you giggle in satisfaction, closely observing the flexing of his muscles and the veins along his arms popping out. one must think you’re used to his tattoos by now, but you’re definitely not. you just learn how to act unaffected, like you can’t write a book of poems about how his body art never seizes to bring you in absolute awe. his eyebrows knit as he pulls himself up, face crumpling with the amount of force and strength he utilizes with every manuever. it’s a seductive scene, but then the dimples on his cheeks make fondness bloom in your heart.

for the love of god, it’s not compromising your plans, but making jungkook a part of your plans. you no longer fantasize about a perfect life. you just want to keep waking up somewhere safe— to be here, standing on the tips of your toes, planting a delicate kiss on the mole at the lower right side of his ribcage. your lips have made one too many sharp mistakes, but they ghost over his skin and he laughs. laughs so joyfully, a majestic string of musical notes from his mouth no other instrument on earth can recreate. it’s a good mistake, the best mistake you could ever possibly make.

“here, drink.“ you offer him a bottle of cold water.

“i’m so tired. oh, fuck-” he does one final pull up before letting go, deliberately falling on the sand and bumping against your feet when he rolls over.

he sits up, warm body vibrating with giggles as he looks up at you.

“did you pack a first aid kit?“

you put a hand over your hip, raising an eyebrow. “what happened now?”

“my hands-” he stares at his palms, sand coating half of the area, before showing them to you. “they sting like hell! seriously!” his little lisp slips out as he rants.

”then why did you keep going?!” you exclaim, grabbing his tattooed wrist to assess the damage. there’s no blood in sight, but his skin has turned a very bright shade of red.

“because it was fun.” he simply answers, and you can’t argue with that.

of course you brought a first aid kit. it’s a necessity, especially when you’re on vacation with your gym bunny boyfriend, apparently. while you grab the ointment in the bedroom, jungkook decides to clean himself up under the outdoor shower situated in a corner beside the swimming pool.

“what’s wrong with this? why are they going at the same time?” he scratches his head in confusion, looking up at the spraying shower head and down at the gushing faucet. he fiddles with the handle in hopes of fixing his problematic water consumption, unintentionally pushing it up higher as he does so. this causes the water pressure to become stronger, sending thin needles to crash down and pierce his fragile skin.

“aw shit-” he reflexively runs away from the rude attack of the silver device. “yah, you punk! what did i to you, huh?! how dare you-”

he clicks his tongue in irritation, resting his hands on his hips. after glaring one more time, he extends his tattooed arm to push the handle all the way down, turning it off. he proceeds to experiment, tilting it to the left, which turns on the faucet only, and then to the right for the shower.

he laughs sarcastically at his discovery, going back under the water. “ahhh, was i the stupid one?”

—

“i missed you!” he declares loudly as soon as you step out of the sliding door.

“me too, babe.” you hum as you walk towards him, standing a considerable distance from the shower.

he wipes his face with his hands to unblur his vision before pushing back his wet hair, droplets of water endlessly rushing down his body.

“why are you so far?” he protests. “come here.”

“but i already took a shower.”

“so what? you’ll get wet again when we ride the jet ski later.”

you pout at him. “i told you i’m scared.”

“i’d be jack if i have to, i won’t let you drown! don’t you trust your boyfriend, hm?” he attempts to persuade you again after failing last night, knowing well that you’d enjoy yourself only if you overcome your fear of the deep waters. “it will be fun, i promise.”

“ugh, fine. only because you promised.” you weakly succumb to his wishes, setting down the small jar of ointment on the ground.

he happily pulls you in for an embrace, burying his face in the crook of your neck while your arms wrap around his waist. the only barrier between your chests is the thin and small fabric of your red bikini, thoroughly soaked by the cold water combatting the rising heat of the approaching noon. you can feel the rough grains of sand that were washed away from his skin under the soles of your feet, contrasting the feather-light kisses being scattered on your neck. and this feels so utterly liberating, you refuse for it to end, allowing yourself to be hastily pinned against the wall when his supple lips meet yours.

he cups the back of your head and his long and slender fingers dig into your hair, protecting you from accidentally hitting the hard cement. the small thoughtful gesture makes you smile into the kiss. he is not real, he can’t be. if this is a dream, you’re begging the sun to never rise. his gentle hands slowly travel down the expanse of your back, until they reach your hips, teasingly tugging past the side straps of your bikini bottoms before kneading the soft flesh of your ass. he swallows the strangled whine that escapes you, slipping his tongue past your parted lips. he’s addicted to how your body language speaks to him when you get intimate, how you lovingly caress his face and his arms, slow and sensual, but then unconsciously dig your nails to mark crescent moons on his skin when you begin getting lost in your combined passion.

he wants this. he wants you. he wants to spend the rest of his life kissing you and wringing the water from your hair.

—

you’ve deserted the log to comfortably sit cross-legged with jungkook on the lounge chair, under the shade of the brown umbrella rooted in the soil.

“mhmmm! it’s so delicious!” jungkook carefully dips the slice of mango in the salt once more, wary of the ointment from his hand smearing on the food, before muching on it eagerly. “so crunchy!”

you pause from tending to his left hand, looking at the plate between the two of you to learn that he is nearly finished with the second mango. you only have one left.

“damn!” he dramatically curses with his eyes squeezed shut, punching the salt air. without context, a stranger would probably guess that he tragically lost a bet or remembered an embarrassing memory from highschool. but really, he’s just enjoying some pretty good food. this is the fourth time in the past five minutes that he precisely did the same thing, and yes, you’ve been counting.

“is it that yummy?” you chuckle, extremely endeared and contented when he looks this excited around food. he is the only person in the world who can make you say i’m full just by watching you eat and mean it.

“it was your idea!” he bobs his head while energetically rocking from side to side, cheeks round and full as he chews. “i haven’t eaten something new in a long time. i love it… i should give the resort five stars for my review. just for this. i’ll say i’ll come back again for the mango tree.”

“or i don’t know, we can just plant one ourselves.” you propose before lightly blowing on his inflamed palm.

“but, baby, that would take years!” he interjects. “we need to buy another house, one with a backyard, and wait at least five years for it to grow. i’ll be thirty-two by then. are you hearing that?!”

the disgusted look on his face elicits a burst of amused laughter from you, stomach hurting with a reason miles better than earlier’s. he winces at the thought of entering his 30’s in the very near future. it feels odd to think about, but it’s a little less daunting with the tree added to the picture.

he picks up the final slice on the plate, smothering it with a thin layer of salt before devouring it entirely. he whimpers, high-pitched and wide-eyed, clasping his hand over his mouth before the other one you’re holding slips away from the solace of your care. he free falls from the chair, limply collapsing on the sand. and just like that, he’s covered in them again, from his damp hair down to his wiggly toes.

you move closer to look at him, dangling your legs on the edge. “darling, you’re still alive, aren’t you?”

he spreads out his limbs like a starfish, dreamily peering into the vast cloudy sky. “oh? i think this is exactly what it means to be alive.”

beyond his words, it’s the way he said them. without shyness, without qualms, without pondering. it makes him sound purely sincere, his mellifluous voice gracefully echoing louder than the nihilistic thoughts in your head, and you believe him.

he abruptly sits up, crawling on his knees to reach you. “baby! it’s too good! i want more!” he cries out, feigning desperate sobs as he hugs your legs. “i want more. let’s eat the third one, please.”

“fuck, okay. calm down. we’ll have it.” you cackle, stroking his hair while he rests his head on your lap.

you drag the plate to your side, slicing the last mango with practiced precision and skill. he, then, closes his eyes and bathes in your presence, his warm breath fanning you. it’s peacefully silent for a while, only the sounds of the knife dragging across the fruit and the waves chasing each other to the edge of the sea can be heard. that is until your boyfriend grows bored. he puckers his lips to brush against your soft skin, insatiable, climbing higher and higher until he’s peppering your inner thigh with kisses.

tingling sensations inevitably spark in your lower region, and you click your tongue to rebuke him. “jungkook, behave. i might cut myself if you keep that up.”

his lips curve into a naughty smirk, shifting a bit further down. “sorry.”

“do you want to get sunburnt? get back up here, on the chair.” you bounce your legs to shake him off, but your efforts prove to be fruitless.

he groans, stubbornly holding on to you tighter. “no, i don’t want to.”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask / dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook one shot #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook au #bts fluff #bts reaction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut

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jaegersdevil · 8 months

Text

glitch — satoru gojo [college au]

FratBoy!Satoru x Fem!Reader

summary: based on glitch by taylor swift, or you and satoru are hooking up with no feelings attached. well, at least that was the original plan. warnings: suggestive but no actual smut, swearing, shoko/suguru, situationship, gojo being a bit of a douche, mentions of vomit & alcohol (gojo is ooc w/ the alcohol), jealousy, one oc (kenji) in case u are wondering who tf he is. a/n: from my other account & rewritten for my baby w/c: 4.4k masterlist

“Are you coming to the party tonight? Or do I need to drag you there by your ankles?” Shoko asked, hands on her hips as she stood in your bedroom doorway. She was dressed and ready to go, head tilted as she observed you in the pink flannelette pyjama set she bought for you.

“I don’t want to go, Sho. I feel a migraine coming on.” Lie.

Shoko rolled her eyes as you dramatically dragged the back of your hand across your forehead. “You’ve gotta be kidding.”

You shook your head. “I would never.”

Shoko sighed and pulled her phone out of her back pocket. “Okay, have fun on your own. I hope you feel better,” She pouted before turning and leaving. “Bitch.”

Your jaw dropped open, a smile forming on your lips as Shoko laughed loudly. “Love you!”

Shaking your head, you tapped your phone screen, seeing a message. “Love you, too. Don’t have too much fun with me!”

“I would never,” Shoko threw your words back at you as she shut the front door to your shared apartment.

The vibrations of the door closing reverberated throughout the flat, confirming Shoko’s departure. You quickly opened up your messages.

Satoru She gone?

You Yep

You locked your phone and got out of bed, rushing to the bathroom. You stripped out of the long pyjamas and threw on pyjama shorts and a tank top, quickly brushing your teeth and flattening your hair.

A quiet knock on the front door signalled Satoru’s arrival, and you washed out your mouth and ran to the door to greet him.

He stood tall in the hallway, a black hoodie and his hair loose, the white strands looking slightly dull in the warm light.

“Hey,” You smiled at him, heat rising to your cheeks as you watched his eyes trail down your body from behind his round black sunglasses despite the darkness outside.

He didn't say anything as he stepped forward to capture your lips with his, a cheeky smirk on his mouth. You had half a mind to close and lock the door behind him as he walked you back into the living area, his hands on your hips.

“Nice to see you,” You mumbled bitterly on his lips. Gojo laughed when he felt you pull on the ends of his hair.

He leaned back from your face, his eyes heavy and dimples visible. “I know you missed me, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes and smacked his bicep. "Dick."

Satoru laughed, pursing his lips in mischief.

Sighing, you slid your hands to his waist while he moved to your cheeks.

“Not going to the party?” You asked, already knowing his answer.

He scoffed and kissed your forehead, leaving his lips there. “Can’t.”

“Why?” You teased, shoving your hands under his hoodie to run your fingers along the skin of his abdomen.

He shivered and looked down at you. “Got a hot date.”

Your eyes widened, and your lips opened in false shock. Satoru’s fingertips traced your jaw softly, his head tilting with eyes full of desire.

“A hot date, yeah?”

His lips on yours stopped you, and you pushed his hair off his forehead, running your hands back to sit behind his neck. Satoru laid you on the couch, toeing his shoes off. He climbed on top of you, his long limbs covering you.

Satoru pulled away, his nose brushing yours. “Some would go as far as to say the hottest date ever.”

You shook your head shyly, laughing with your hands in his hair. As his mouth moved to your neck, you brought him closer.

You felt Satoru’s teeth on your skin as he grinned.

“When’s Shoko back?” He muttered, continuing his attack on your neck.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he pushed his thigh between your legs. “Later.”

Satoru paused and pulled away. “I need specifics.”

You sighed and looked at the ceiling, furrowing your eyebrows at his antics. “Like, 11.”

He smiled again and pecked your lips. “Perfect.”

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

Shoko’s yelling from the kitchen woke you up. You rolled over in bed, body aching as you reached for the pillow beside you and shoved your head under it. “Y/n, get out here right now!”

Usually, you could tell the difference between Shoko’s exclamations of excitement, joy, anger, exasperation, and upset. But right now, it was a mixture of all five that scared you the most.

You hopped out of bed, and when you realised your bare body, you tossed on a hoodie that had previously been on the floor. “Just a second!”

Shoko was pacing; you could tell. You combed through your memories of last night, blushing at the thought of most of them, but you couldn’t remember forgetting anything in the living room.

Opening your bedroom door, Shoko walked back and forth between the kitchen counter and couch, her thumbnail between her teeth.

“Sho,” You said, catching her attention. The brunette’s head shot up at the sound of your voice, and she rushed over.

“Suguru and I kissed last night!” She exclaimed, latching onto the backs of your arms.

Your mouth hung open at the news, although your heart lept for her. “No way.”

“And then I asked him if it was good,” She cringed, screwing her eyes shut.

You scrunched your nose. “You didn’t.”

“I did!” Shoko gasped. “He’s our best friend. Why would I do something so stupid?”

“Shoko!” You interrupted her anxiety-ridden questions. “He’s known and liked you forever. Suguru wouldn’t ruin your friendship like that. He knew what he was doing when he kissed you.”

Shoko sighed and tilted her head.

“Shit,” Her voice was higher than usual as she pondered your response. “Okay. That made me feel better.” She let go of your arms.

“Seriously?”

Shoko nodded and then groaned. “We have to see him this afternoon.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Why?”

“Satoru invited us to the house to hang out this afternoon. So, Suguru will be there, obviously.”

Satoru and Suguru were part of a frat, so they lived in a house, not a college dorm or an apartment. You had been there countless times during college due to the parties they threw, but mostly because you were in a friend group with the boys, Shoko and Utahime, whom you hadn’t seen in a while.

The problem was, nobody knew you and Satoru were seeing each other—it was more of a friends-with-benefits situation than a secret relationship deal, much to your dismay.

But, at the sound of his name, you blanched. Shoko had turned around to pace again so she didn’t see your surprised expression. “Uh—Yeah, okay. Sounds good.”

She spun around sharply. “Why did you hesitate?”

“I didn’t,” Your eyes widened.

But Shoko shook her head. “You did. Why? Is it Satoru?”

Your breath got stuck in your throat. “No, why would it be him?”

Shoko shrugged. “He just wasn’t there last night. Someone said he was on a date, and I was going to ask you if you knew, but I suspected it was a sensitive topic for you because you have a crush on him.”

You sighed in relief, masking it as a disappointed one. “Who he dates is none of my business. And I don’t have a crush on him.”

“But it is! You’re best friends; did he not tell you?” Shoko said, ignoring the last part of your sentence.

“No, Shoko.”

She gasped. “What a dick.”

Then, with a flick of her hand, she walked back to her room. “I’ll get it out of him one way or another.”

When Shoko closed her bedroom door, you wiped your eyes with your fists to rid your eyelids of images of Satoru from last night.

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At 4 pm, you and Shoko stood outside Satoru and Suguru’s frat house. It was much cleaner than the others but still held a faint stench of alcohol and sensuality—much like every fraternity house.

“It’ll be okay, Sho. It’s just Suguru, who you’ve known for ages. Nothing to be afraid of,” You reassured Shoko as you knocked on the door. Usually, you would walk straight in, but from recent experiences, you’ve learned to wait and give the other house members a warning before entering.

“I could say the same thing about Satoru. He’s not scary, Y/n; just talk to him,” She replied.

You felt guilty for not telling her about you and Satoru’s situationship. It was years in the making.

“Hey, losers,” A voice you would know anywhere spoke when he opened the door. You looked up at him through your lashes as he grinned at you.

Satoru wore a black shirt and grey sweatpants. His hair was loose with his neck and hickeys exposed.

Shoko gasped at the sight of them. “So you did go on a date last night!” She pointed at him, and Satoru gave her a tight-lipped smile.

“Not that I’m trying to hide it, but how does everyone know?” He asked, glancing at you.

“Not everyone,” Shoko poked her thumb in your direction. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell Y/n.”

Satoru’s eyebrows jerked upward. “I didn’t tell anyone directly, Shoko.”

The shorter girl hummed and slipped inside through the gap between Satoru and the doorframe. “I’m watching you, Gojo.”

He rolled his eyes and turned to face you when Shoko was gone. “Hi.”

You smiled at him. “Hello, Satoru. Have a good night?”

“Great night, actually. Thanks for asking,” He smirked, stepping aside to let you inside.

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You could feel Satoru’s eyes on you throughout the afternoon and into the night. You had snuck a few glances at most for fear the others would notice, but Satoru didn’t have a care in the world. He openly stared at you, drinking in your body while swimming in thoughts from the night before.

Shoko had been looking between the two of you, connecting the dots in her head while she and Suguru spoke softly. They had been trying to figure out the odd behaviour of their best friends for a while, feigning innocence when asked about it. From disappearing at the same time during classes to making excuses on nights of planned events, they quickly realised that you and Satoru were together, and it was just a matter of time before everyone else came to the same conclusion.

It seemed Utahime was next as she glanced at Shoko before she spoke. Shoko shook her head, but it was too late to intervene.

“Satoru?” Utahime snapped. Her face was void of emotion as she called him.

“Yeah?” His gaze lazily swung to her, a dimple visible as he smirked. He hadn’t been bothered to tuck the loose hair behind his ears, allowing a few strands to hang over his eyes, something he knew you loved.

“Aren’t you getting bored ogling Y/n?”

Suguru, Shoko, a few other frat boys, and their guests looked in Satoru’s direction and then yours.

Satoru shrugged, his gaze leaving her to focus on you again. “No.”

You felt heat rush your cheeks as his eyes looked directly into yours across the room.

“What about your date last night? Wouldn’t she be upset you’re checking out another girl?” Hana, one of the sorority girls, asked. Her friends around her whacked her shoulders after she spoke.

Satoru exhaled deeply and then stood up. He didn’t reply as he walked into the kitchen.

“Satoru?” Hana called.

“Yes, Hana?”

“Who was the girl?”

Satoru returned to the living room with a beer bottle in his hand. “Doesn’t matter. Nobody’s business but my own.”

You felt a sharp pang in your chest.

“But everyone wants to know. Is she your girlfriend?”

Satoru poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue and let out an easy laugh. The room grew quiet as everyone listened in.

“No, Hana. She’s not,” His forefinger brushed the side of his nose.

“Does she even go to college? Is she older?” Hana giggled with a few of the other girls. Their laughter made you bite your bottom lip in discomfort. “Is it someone’s mom?”

The other frat boys hollered at the mention of an older woman, but Satoru glanced at you while the girls were conspiring, annoyance painting his features. A muscle in his jaw twitched.

“Why does it matter?” He spat, sitting on the couch. He raised an eyebrow at her and watched Hana shrink in her seat.

“I guess it doesn’t, jeez,” Hana had a look of disgust on her face. “Dickhead.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Satoru stood up again with his hands out in front of him, the neck of the bottle swinging between his fingers. “But at least I’m not one of those people like you who get off on gossiping about other people’s lives. Fuck off.”

The room sat in awkward silence, so Satoru threw his arm up and took the stairs two at a time to get to his room quicker.

Shoko winced, her teeth together as she looked at you in question. You widened your eyes and shook your head in unknowing.

Someone across the room cleared their throat and started chatting again to break the tension.

“We should go,” Shoko said to Suguru, getting your attention. Then she kissed him and hopped off the lounge. “Let’s go.”

Your eyes widened at your best friends' interaction, and you followed her out, waving back at Suguru.

“I should’ve followed him,” You said as you got into the passenger seat of Shoko’s car.

“Why?” She asked, and you knew she knew. You gave her a deadpan look, and she gasped and turned to face you in the small car.

“You bitch! You and Satoru are dating!” Her smile was wide.

You scrunched up your face. “What? No, we’re not dating.”

Shoko’s face dropped, confusion replacing her once excited manner. “What?”

“We’re not dating. We’re, like, you know,” You avoided telling it how it was. It hurt you too much sometimes.

“Fucking?”

You cringed. “Yeah.”

Shoko shrugged and turned her key in the ignition. She could tell you didn’t want to speak on it further. “Better than not, right?”

You sighed, smiling sadly at her. “Sometimes.”

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Satoru had briefly mentioned he was coming over. You warned Shoko that he would be over, to which she giggled.

“I can’t believe it,” She sighed. “The two biggest losers in the universe are hooking up. And nobody figured it out until now. Insanity.”

You ignored her as you gave your eyelashes a final swipe of mascara. Shoko sat on your bed and watched you finish up your preparation. She found it fascinating that you had kept this a secret for so long despite her purposeful attempts at making you slip up.

“You’re being safe, right?” Her tone was laced with concern, and you were surprised at her sudden question.

You nodded and spun around on the floor in front of the mirror. “Nothing to worry about, Sho.”

“I mean emotionally. Is being with him like this worth it? Is it what you want?” You know she didn’t mean any harm; she was just asking the real questions, but the sudden turn in conversation had you reeling.

You sighed and turned back to the mirror, a blush brush between your fingers.

“No, I don’t think so,” You refused to think about the future and how this situation would affect your friendship in the long run. Maybe you would’ve asked him out in another life instead of suggesting this.

Shoko nodded and decided not to press further. She put a smile on her face; whether it was false for your sake, you didn’t ask.

“What time did you say he was getting here?” She sat scrutinising her dark nail polish as she asked.

You glanced at your phone lock screen. “Now.”

Shoko simply laughed and stood up, hearing the expected knock on the front door.

“Don’t embarrass him too much.”

“I will,” She winked and went to greet him.

Shoko opened the front door, and by the look on Satoru’s face, he wasn’t expecting to see her.

Satoru stammered before he spoke. “Shoko! Hi, how are you?” His voice twinged with unusual nervousness, and he shoved his hands in his pockets. Shoko smiled sarcastically at him.

“I didn’t know you were coming over tonight,” Then she peered into the hallway. “Is Suguru coming up too?”

“Uhm, uh, no. I just need to help Y/n with something.”

“What? Classwork, notes, outfit options?” She squinted at him in suspicion.

Satoru smiled awkwardly at her. “Yeah, uh, class stuff.”

“What class?”

“You know….” His cheeks flushed a light red, a laugh escaping his lips.

Shoko furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. He was awful at lying when put on the spot, but she guessed that was a good thing. Satoru tucked his hair behind his ear and refused to meet her eyes.

“You are hopeless,” Shoko sighed. “Well, I gotta get going; I’m meeting Suguru for dinner.”

She turned and walked back inside to grab her bag. Shoko brushed past you in the hallway. “Come on! He's so bad at this,” She exasperated. All you did was laugh, and then Shoko squeezed past Satoru to leave.

“You have fun now!” Shoko winked and Satoru paled.

Once Satoru knew she was in the elevator, he shut the door behind him, and you walked out of your room to see him wringing out his hands anxiously.

“Nice chat with Shoko?”

Satoru sighed and shook his head, breaking a smile. “Fuck. You didn’t tell me she would be here.”

You put your hands up in surrender. “You told me when you were coming over.”

He nodded and walked toward you. “Guess I should’ve asked first.”

“No, that was pretty entertaining,” You contemplated, looking into his eyes. The blue turned darker the longer you stood there.

“You’re so—” Satoru grabbed at your waist, tickling your sides. You screamed in laughter, trying to push his hands off you.

“Get off!” You squealed when he picked you up. Making his way to your room, Satoru snickered beside your head, his hot breath in your ear before throwing you on your bed.

You watched Satoru strip out of his white hoodie, leaving him in just a black tee and grey sweats before he clambered on top of you. “You’re gonna pay for that.”

“Really?” You teased, an eyebrow raised.

Satoru nodded, pushing flyaways out of your face softly. “Would I lie to you, baby?”

You giggled and brushed his stomach. “Yeah, I guess I would know if you were lying. Your performance before was shit.”

And then Satoru’s long fingers found your sides again.

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“Come on!” Shoko ran into your room with her phone clutched in her hand as she urged you to hurry up. “We’re going to be late!”

You touched up your make-up and ensured your hair cooperated before leaving.

Shoko practically pulled you towards the Uber, giggling when you nearly tripped. It was clear a few beverages were consumed before she entered your room.

Once on your way, you fished your phone out of your bag, seeing texts from Satoru, who was already seemingly drunk.

Satoru When are will you b here I saved yu a seat on the couch u look so hot right now i knw it

Heat rose to your cheeks as you read the last one. You shoved your phone back in your bag and sat in anticipation.

Upon arrival, the frat house was already overflowing with college students, most of whom you’d never seen before. You glanced at the sky; the stars were bright as they twinkled across the deep indigo sky.

Walking up to the house with Shoko, you already had to sidestep empty beer cans and vodka bottles, cringing when someone threw up in the garden to your right.

Shoko threw you a disgusted look. “I hate these people.”

You pushed her shoulder and laughed. “You wanted to come!”

The brunette nodded solemnly and took the front steps two at a time. A group of guys pushed past you as you entered, the stench of sweat and beer leaking from their pores. You wrinkled your nose and hit Shoko’s back softly so she would walk faster.

“Geto!” You could barely hear her over the music, but when Shoko disappeared into the crowd, you knew she’d spotted Suguru. Standing on your own, you pushed onto your toes to try and search for Satoru. The house was glowing a deep red due to the overhead lights, making it difficult to see.

Satoru usually wasn’t hard to find due to his height and head of white hair. Yet, he was nowhere in sight. You sighed and dropped to your feet before squeezing through the crowd to the kitchen.

Red solo cups and glass bottles littered the countertop, puddles of unknown liquid dripping onto the floor. Stepping around the island, you noticed a girl from your class pouring drinks.

“Hey!” She said, handing you a cup. “Jungle juice?”

Her bright eyes watched your forehead crease in curiosity and disgust as you took the cup from her. “Thanks?”

She laughed and continued talking to a guy in her finance course.

“Have a good night, Y/n!” She called after you.

You slipped back into the throng of people, sipping the concoction and nearly gagging. Gross.

“Y/n?” A deep voice exclaimed, causing you to turn. You saw Kenji push through to get to you, and you tried to mask your surprise. Kenji had graduated two years before you and your friends and had something going on with Utahime—something you didn’t dare ask the girl for fear you’d get your lips sewn together.

“Kenji, hi,” You smiled. “What’re you doing here?”

He shrugged. “I was bored and decided to check out the party.”

Conversations with Kenji typically went like this—small talk about college classes and jobs and why the alcohol the frat was handing out was so shit.

“Where’s Satoru? You’re usually attached at the hip,” His question sent a jab to your stomach. You were reminded you didn’t know where he was.

“Not sure. I’ll have to find him. It was nice seeing you, Ken,” You genuinely smiled at him, and Kenji nodded.

“You too, Y/n. Good luck trying to find him.”

You laughed and went to the outside area, where you assumed Satoru would be. With no luck, you turned back inside. But before you could search for Shoko instead, you caught him rushing up the stairs.

Shoko, who you had also been looking for, called your name from the couch and motioned for you to talk to him. You knew she knew what was going on.

So, this time, you went against your better judgement and followed him upstairs with Shoko’s eyes following you.

You knew which room was his and didn’t knock as you entered.

Satoru sat on his bed. A half-empty beer bottle sat forgotten on his desk as his eyes traced patterns in the carpet.

“Baby,” You whispered, shutting the door behind you.

“No,” He said sharply, not meeting your eyes. "Go away."

Your forehead creased, and your chest hurt at his immediate dismissal.

“Satoru,” You sighed. “What happened? I'm not leaving until you tell me.”

It was a childish attempt, but you were desperate to know why he was so upset.

He shook his head and looked up, pain swimming in his blue eyes behind his usual black sunglasses. “There’s nothing to speak about.”

You took a step towards him, your concern flipping to irritation. “There is—”

“There isn’t!” Satoru exclaimed and stood up. “You made up your mind when you laid down the rules for this.” His hand motioned between you, and you knew what he was mad about. He had obviously seen you talking to Kenji, got the wrong idea, and then anxiety overran his rational mind.

“We were supposed to be just friends, Satoru,” You reminded him, avoiding eye contact because if you did, you would cave. You wanted to see how far this would go, to see if he actually loved you like you wanted him to. “Nowhere did it say either of us had the right to get jealous. We were supposed to be just hooking up.”

“Just friends?” Satoru shook his head, a spiteful smirk on his face. “Do you know how stupid that sounds? Look at us!”

Oh, how quickly this had escalated.

You bit your lip, not knowing what to say. Sure, you had gotten uncontrollably jealous in recent months when you saw him flirting with girls, and sure, you had cried yourself to sleep when he didn’t text you back, but you always denied it was because you loved him. Yet, the realisation didn't surprise you because you were expecting it.

Satoru shook his head and jabbed his thumb into his hard chest. “I’m getting jealous over some guy simply talking to you! That shouldn’t happen between just friends.”

“That’s not my fault! We agreed to stay friends.”

“You agreed to that, remember? I just sat there while you rattled out those stupid rules.”

“I know!” You pleaded, your hands in front of you as you watched his bored expression. You tried to stop yourself from saying the following words, but you couldn't deny yourself or him the potential of a relationship. It wasn't fair.

“I wish I hadn’t.”

“Why?” His voice was indifferent, but you could see a spark in his eye.

“You know why.”

Satoru stood up from his spot on the bed. “I want to hear you say it.”

“Satoru, please.” You begged, closing your eyes.

“Y/n, say it,” He whispered, his voice dropping from its previous frustrated tone. “Because if you don’t, I will live the rest of my life in regret for ending things with you.”

You blinked at him, your eyes weary as you stepped closer. “Satoru.”

“Please, Y/n. I need to know that this was all real.”

You sighed, reaching up to caress his cheek. Satoru leaned into your touch, his eyes never leaving yours.

“I love you, and I have since I met you,” You uttered, your voice soft and warm. Satoru visibly exhaled and took your hands in his. “And if you don’t love me back, I’ll live the rest of my life in complete and utter embarrassment for misreading this.”

Satoru rolled his eyes playfully, and the corner of his mouth turned upward as you threw his words at him.

“Of course I love you,” He whispered. “Never think any different, okay?”

You wrapped your arms around his neck. “Well, I think there’s been a glitch in our system.”

Satoru tilted his head. “A good glitch?”

You nodded. “A great one.”

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thank you for reading <3

#satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo imagine #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo #satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #satoru x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #fratboy!satoru #college au #— ann writes!

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matrixbearer2024 · 2 months

Note

For the actor au how would Vox react if he knew why Y/N was so red and hitting Angel with the pillow

A/N: Featuring Alastor's wifey aka @a-hazbin-reader's OC, honestly I just didn't want to put another (Y/N) there- so for all you Alastor lovers- come and get your numnums XD also Vox is kind of a dumbass when it comes to romance, in the show he's an idiot because he can't emotion like bro doesn't know how to be treated decently- in this AU he's just really dense because he's actually pretty young and inexperienced compared to the rest of the gang. If you guys want me to expound on that go and drop me a request question for it! :D

Actor AU: Relationship Rambling 2

Vox: "Oh their blushing face and that? Most of it was actually just makeup and acting, sorry guys!"

Alastor: *Once again contemplating why he is good friends with Vox* "You're really dense you know that?"

Vox: "I've been told, but I knew about the script already so before you get any ideas-"

Alastor: "That's not what-" *Tired sigh* "My point is, (Y/N) likes you. As in really like-like you. I'm saying this outright because I know you're not gonna get it-"

Vox: "As friends. Right?"

Alastor: "...Vox I am this close to strangling you-"

Nix: "Hey there boys! Vox, Alastor, what- wait what's happening?"

Vox: "I'm confused."

Alastor: "He's blind."

Nix: "Oh is this about-" *Laughs*

Vox: *Just sheer confusion*

Alastor: "I am actually on the verge of making a canon character event and murdering this guy-"

Nix: "Here, here- let me try! Vox, you really like spending time with (Y/N) right?"

Vox: "Yes...? What's that got to do with anything? I spend time with everyone here."

Nix: "I meant in the way that you value their presence more?"

Vox: "A little bit? But (Y/N)'s my co-star in the drama we're filming- isn't that normal?"

Alastor: *Facepalms*

Nix: "Nevermind, do you want to kiss them more than the script dictates?"

Vox: "Kinda? I dunno."

Alastor: *Throws his hands up in exasperation* "VOX-"

Nix: *Holds a hand in front of Alastor to get him to shut up* "So if you had the chance would you kiss (Y/N) without needing a script?"

Vox: "Well, yeah. They're just really cool, kind, cute, plus the way they just handle themselves is so amazing- whether or not the cameras are rolling, not to mention that they're just- ohhh. Oh. I get it now."

Nix: *Smiles* "So? Why don't you go and tell them?"

Vox: "Nuh- I wouldn't dare."

Alastor: "I am going to go insane listening to you-"

Nix: "Vox, just go and tell (Y/N) how you feel! It'll go well, I promise!"

Vox: "... I'll... think about it." *Leaves*

Alastor: "Okay, HOW??? I've been trying to tell him the obvious for months now."

Nix: "Maybe let him figure it out instead of just telling him outright? You were just like him back then."

Alastor: *Pouts* "No I wasn't, I was at least aware of my feelings."

Nix: *Kisses his cheek* "Maybe you were, but that didn't make you any less of a mess hun."

Alastor: *Pulls Nix into a hug* "Maybe, but enough about Vox. I thought you were dating me?"

Nix: *Boops his nose* "You're a dork." *Laughs*

Alastor: *Chuckles* "I'm your dork darling, there's a difference."

Nix: *Leans on Alastor* "Maybe, but I don't see it."

(Y/N): *Walks in* "Hey have either of you seen-"

Nix: *Suddenly shoves Alastor off* "Vox? He just left!"

(Y/N): "Uhm... okay? Thanks!" *Leaves*

Alastor: *Sitting on the floor with his arms crossed* "That was cruel dear."

Nix: "Sorry, sorry. Force of habit."

Alastor: "Do we really have to continue doing this?"

Nix: "Look, I just- I don't really want to give everyone too many ideas. You already see what's going on with Vox and (Y/N)."

Alastor: "What if I said I didn't care?"

Nix: "Wait what-? Really?"

Alastor: "I don't mind it, I know I used to- but I don't really think so anymore. It's probably better than always being pushed away because someone else came into the room."

Nix: *Crouches down and hugs Alastor* "Okay, if you say so. Besides, I'm a little tired of hiding it too. Sometimes I just wanna cuddle and kiss after a long day of filming."

Alastor: *Hugs Nix back* "Yeah, so do I love. So do I."

#vox x reader #hazbin hotel #vox #get off my screen series #hazbin hotel vox #vox x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin vox #hazbin vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox x reader #alastor x reader #alastor altruist #alastor the radio demon #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x you #actor au

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saturnville · 5 months

Text

in the dirty south.

pairing: cowboy!coriolanus snow x black fem oc. warnings: old slang, sexual innuendo, flirting, sorta forbidden infatuation if you blink. shy!oc. content: while at a town fair with her family, delilah finds herself heavily infatuated with the new face in town. an: the people have spoken. cowboy!coriolanus is here. definitely called on my grandmother's southern roots for this so be prepared. I don't know who started cowboy!coriolanus, but all respect and credit to the individual who did. please let me know what y'all think of this!

tags: @snowlandsontopp @babyzzlove @hlstead @rosewine-5 @unicornqueen05 @thegabbyh @neeville @fastlikealambo @urfavesim to keep your spot on the tag list, you are expected to interact!

Outside visiters were not a common occurance the city. The town was small and everybody knew everybody. One would be a fool to think anything that occured in their lives wouldn't be common knowledge to the inhabitants of the town. She wished she had the same type of delusion.

Once every few months, the mayor of the town found it suitable to host a fair. Something to ease the growing tensions between the families and to usher in a type of fun no one had seen since the rebellions took place.

She wouldn't say she didn't enjoy the fairs, but she knew there were other ways to spend her time aside from handing out freshly baked slices of poundcake and a cup of milk, courtesy of her mother and grandmother.

"Delilah! It's time to go, baby." Her mother's voice was rough like gravel yet soothing like silk. Everyone called her comparison foolish, as they didn't understand. But, until they felt the way her words calmed their soul like a newborn being rocked by its mother, they never would.

Delilah hollered back, "Comin', mama!" She stood in front of the mirror--dingy and stained from being passed down from her great-great-grandmother, and so short that she had to stand on her toes to see her full outfit. Her hands swiped over the fabric of her dress. It was new; her grandmother spent 3 weeks making it. A corset dress as bright as the dust that left her shoulders exposed to the kisses of the sun. She smiled at her reflection and pushed her hair away from her face. She shoved her feet into her boots and ran down the stairs.

Delilah questioned if they arrived late or if everyone else arrived early in anticipation. She bobbed and weaved through the sea of black and brown with a smile on her face. Small "pardon mes" and "excuse mes" poured from her lips like water as she attempted not to knock anyone over with her basket.

She followed her mother like a lost puppy to their assigned tent. Right next to Uncle Turner's barbeque restauraunt and the bathroom. Perfect, she said to herself. Lucille dropped the basket against the wood table and began plucking out the tablecloth and napkins.

"Lilah, I'm gon' grab some pitchers of water inside Turner's. I'll be back shortly." Mama's lips turned upward with a soft smile. Delilah nodded and continued her setting up the table.

Beads of sweat gathered at her forehead and her brown skin stung under the gaze of a burning sun. God, she hoped they wouldn't be outside for 10 hours like they were the last time. She couldn't sworn she melted like an ice cream cone within an hour.

Delilah hummed a church hymn to herself and tossed the basket behind her. She plopped down on the ragged bench and crossed her legs just as her mother taught her years ago, folded her hands over her lap, and watched as people walked passed.

People watching was one of her favorite pasttimes. To her left was a young girl riding on her wooden rocking horse, squealing with glee. To her right was a group of young boys tackling each other to the ground as their mother hollered for them to quit roughhousing. Delilah giggled.

She raised her eyes and jerked backward when she saw a group of men walking past. Four of them to be exact. Three were familiar faces: Elijah, Malachi, and Ezra. The boys whom she grew up with. They used to sleep in the same bed together when their mothers worked at the restaurant late at night. But, there was another one she'd never seen before.

He was unfamiliar. There were a few white boys sprinkled here and there, but in her town, it wasn't a frequent occurance. He seemed comfortable, too, with a boyish smirk on his face as he made the boys' head fly back with glee.

She could tell his hands were strong by the way they latched around the harness that allowed him to control the beautiful horse he rode upon. She looked around and saw other women eyeing the stranger. Who was he?

The man slid off the horse and tied the harness against a stake, and followed the men as they approached her mother's tent. His eyes were curious as they examined his surroundings. Delilah brushed the loose curls away from her face and smiled. "Hi, boys."

A series of disgruntled greetings came from them as they padded around the bench to engulf Delilah in a hug. The stranger stayed in front of her, eyes narrow.

"Where's Mama?" Elijah asked. His green eyes searched for the middle-aged woman.

"She's in Turner's getting some water. Might as well help her while you're lookin' for her," Delilah suggested with a shrug. She could feel icy eyes on her. "She'll mess around and drop them tryin' to do the most. Go catch up to her."

"Delilah," said Malachi. "This is Coriolanus. We, uh, we go back. Old friends. We're gon' help, Mama, but Lilah, don't scare him off." Delilah met his eyes. "I won't."

The boys shuffled off to the restaurant to find her mother, which left Delilah in the presence of Coriolanus. It was unique. She'd never heard anything like it. It sounded prestigious, elite.

He was handsome. Messy curls underneath his hat. Strong stature covered by a thick long-sleeve shirt and vest. Her gaze dropped to his belt. Brown with a holster that held, what she assumed was, a fully loaded pistol. And his boots, worn, dirty, and scuffed, just like hers. A country boy.

"Delilah. Nice to meet you, Mr. Coriolanus." Delilah extended her hand slowly. Coriolanus turned his head to the side. Her hands were slender and her nailbeds were painted a blood red. His tongue danced over his tooth.

"No need for that, darling. Nice to meet you," he replied, gently shaking her hand. His hand was much bigger in hers. Calloused like he wrestled animals in the wilderness. Strong like they'd hold her body upright with ease. His eye contact was strong and he could feel it melting her chocolate orbs away.

When he spoke, she noticed that his accent was nowhere as thick as her own, but a southern twang was laced in his words. Almost like he'd been taught. "Where are you from?" To keep herself from getting weak in the knees, she decided to start setting out the serving ware for the cake. Coriolanus' eyes followed her every action.

"Up north," he replied shortly. "Got in a bit of a mess. Decided to come down south for a while."

Delilah hummed and pulled the lid off the poundcake. Its glaze glistened underneath the sun. Just like her. Coriolanus chuckled to himself. "Do you like it?" She looked up at him through her eyelids.

She was so beautiful. He'd seen his fair share of pretty women since being placed in a new District. But she, Lord, this Delilah was something different. She was short in stature with strong shoulders and hips that were not well hidden beneath her dress. She had a cute smile that was covered by full, cherry colored lips. And her hair, so coily and full in a bun upon her head.

Coriolanus ran his tongue over his bottom lip and nodded. "I like it a lot."

Delilah detected the tone of his voice and fought the urge to smile. "I'm glad that's the case."

It was difficult for Delilah to keep her eyes off Coriolanus. Where he moved, her eyes followed. When he spoke to another woman and charmed her with his smile and bright eyes, she felt a twing of jealousy hit. Then, she'd call herself foolish for even being the slightest bit possessive over a man she'd only known for five hours.

She did her best to keep herself preoccupied with the poundcake in front of her. It worked for the most part, until the bench wobbled by the weight of another. Delilah turned to her left and found Coriolanus leaned against the side. "Can I join you, pretty?"

Pretty. Delilah's body warmed as she nodded. Coriolanus swung his leg over the side of the bench and took a seat. His clothed thigh brushed against her exposed once, causing her leg to jump slightly. He noticed, but chose not to say anything.

"You enjoying the fair?" Coriolanus asked.

"Yeah. It's always a fun time. Plus the food is great, too." She raised her fork that held a piece of cake on it. "Have you tried the poundcake? My mama makes the best ever."

Coriolanus shook his head. Delilah gathered a piece on the fork and held it out with the intention for him to pluck it off, but she was shocked when his full lips wrapped around the edge of the fork. His eyes were trained on hers. A gasp fell from her lips.

He hummed softly. "Delicious." He prepared to spur her on further, finding amusement in her disheveled state, but was called back by Elijah. "I'm comin'!. Save some for me later, darlin'. I'll see you later, alright?"

Delilah nodded and bit her lip. "Alright."

He threw her a wink and walked away. He was far from done with her.

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sotwk · 5 months

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The Best Gift (Legolas x f!Reader)

Summary: Legolas wishes a "dear friend" a Joyous Begetting Day--but anonymously.

Dedication: For my dearest @quickslvxrr, who has been such a constant and patient supporter. I'm so sorry it took forever to grant such a simple fic request from you. I hope this brings you some joy during rather difficult times. <3

Word count: 1.3k

Rating: General Audience

Content: Fluff, comedy, romance, shy young Legolas, secret pining, brotherly banter, OC Son of Thranduil (Prince Gelir)

Warnings: None

To Read on AO3: LINK

The Best Gift

Third Age 556 June 26th

The Woodland Realm

“What in Araw’s name are you doing?”

Legolas gave a muffled cry and stumbled back a couple of steps, but caught his balance before he could crash into the shrubbery outside the small kitchen window.

“Get down!” he hissed at his brother Gelir, grabbing the older ellon’s sleeve and yanking him down to the dirt beside him.

His heart racing like frightened deer’s, Legolas listened carefully for changes in the movement within her cottage, any sign that she might have overheard his dolt of a brother’s voice and sought to investigate. Mercifully, the melody of her sweet humming continued to float uninterrupted from the open window.

“Oh, are you the only one permitted to wish our dear friend a Joyous Begetting?” Gelir smirked and punched him on the shoulder. “If I too had a gift I wished to present to her for the occasion, would you pound me?”

“No!” Legolas blurted out quickly; too quickly. “Wait--have you brought a gift for her?”

“I have not, because I had assumed your answer to that question would be yes. And as little as I fear your wee hits, honeg, I do not particularly enjoy being on the receiving end of them.”

Gelir shoved the younger prince aside, leapt lightly to his feet, and crept over to peer above the windowsill. Legolas held his breath, despite knowing Gelir would never be seen or heard by any elf, man, or beast if he did not wish for them to. The worrisome issue was the great pleasure his brother seemed to derive from embarrassing him at every open opportunity--something one might assume a grown elf would grow weary of after two and half centuries, but it had yet to happen.

Thankfully, after an agonizing few seconds, Gelir dropped back down to their hiding spot. “I see you opted for the purple night lilies.” He cocked an eyebrow at Legolas. "I seem to recall Ammë setting certain conditions on the use of the rarest blooms from her garden."

"You recall correctly," said Legolas tersely. All four of his elder brothers were frustratingly knowledgeable of the details of his personal business--a result of the powerful bonds that linked them. But Gelir was easily bored, and the only one to actually stick his nose in for active meddling. "She did not set a time by which I am required to make myself known."

"And is Ammë also aware you have spent--on my guess--at least the last two hours sitting outside this unwitting maid’s window hoping that she would come to some sort of epiphany?”

Legolas thought about the smile that lit up her face so beautifully his entire chest ached, and the way it had stayed on her face the entire time he waited there, content to just observe the joy he had caused.

“I believe she knows. Or is close to discerning it.”

“You are right. She must realize eventually that a plant so rare and valuable could only come from a high lord or prince.” Gelir snapped his fingers. “Perhaps I should walk in there and take the credit and her fair heart to boot!”

Legolas jerked his head suddenly. “You wouldn’t!”

“You are right. I would not; that would be wrong.” Gelir leaned in closer, his expression suddenly stern. “But it is just as egregious to carry on as long as you have, making veiled overtures to this lady rather than mustering the courage to speak the truth of your feelings plainly to her face.”

“The pursuit of someone’s affections must be like hunting. When you hunt an animal, you go with the focused intent of finishing the job as quickly as possible. You do not toy with the creature to scare or confuse it and cause it needless pain.”

Gelir clamped a hand on his younger brother’s shoulder. “I may not know what it is like to lose my heart in this manner, little brother. But I know it is unfitting that I show greater respect to animals I stalk than you do to someone you profess to love.”

The sudden outpouring of wisdom from his wise-cracking brother rendered Legolas speechless. But something on his face must have quelled Gelir’s baser instincts to tease and mock him.

“Explain your struggle. Where does all your hesitation lie?”

“I…she…” His brother seemed so genuine this time in his desire to help, that the words broke through Legolas’s reluctance to expose his vulnerabilities. “What if she does not feel the same way I do? What if she will not have me?”

“She does and she will.”

“How do you know for certain?”

“Because I have two eyes and I use them,” Gelir said flatly, his patience already worn thin. “Unlike the both of you, evidently, who cannot gaze directly at each other's faces long enough to notice how nauseatingly smitten you are with one another.”

Legolas’s hands curled into tight fists. Against his better instincts, he wanted to believe it. What maiden could refuse a son of the Elvenking if he offered her his heart?

Well, she could, in all likelihood. For what was his title against true beauty and grace such as hers? Why should he be her first choice when she could have anyone in the entirety of Eryn Galen?

“Bah! Enough of this tragic nonsense.” Gelir’s hand around his arm easily tugged the dazed Legolas to his feet. “I will not let you waste any more time squatting here like a toad. And even toads have the sense to croak and announce their intentions.”

Gelir hooked his arm around his brother’s hunched shoulders and gave him a firm shake. “Perhaps a few bottles from Ada’s cellars might rally those nerves, eh? Come. With any luck, you can make another go of it before the day’s end.”

As they trudged around the hedges to start the trek back up to the King’s palace, Legolas wrestled with the sense of failure at his retreat. Why could he not be more like his brothers, if not like their father? Afraid of nothing, brimming with confidence to speak their mind to anybody. What was stopping him?

Nobody. Nobody but himself.

Legolas froze in place so suddenly that Gelir nearly lost his balance. “What--?”

The younger prince turned to squarely face the pathwalk leading back to the cottage, glaring at the bright green door with the intensity of one about to leap across an impossible distance over a deadly chasm.

“Yessss. Go on!” He distantly heard Gelir hoot as he began his determined stride up the path.

But then he heard something else. Footsteps. A doorknob turning.

The color drained from Legolas’s face and his legs turned to lead. He twisted about to scurry away and out of sight, but a pair of powerful hands suddenly seized the back of his tunic, lifting him so that his boot soles left the ground.

A hard, rough toss pitched the helpless elf to the cottage just as the door swung open. He flailed his arms out to regain his balance and avoid face-planting on the stoop, but not quickly enough to avoid bumping against the maiden that had stepped out of her home.

“H-Hello.” He gulped down the panic that rose up his chest, as the nearness of her, such as he had never experienced before, enfolded him. Her scent, her warmth, her…touch? Legolas realized that she had raised her hands and planted them firmly against his chest, likely to help break his ungraceful fall.

“I… uh, I came to wish you… that is…I-I just wanted to say…” Valar, did Gelir’s shove knock his tongue loose from his mouth?!

“I wished so badly for it to be you!" she suddenly blurted out, and stuck forward her chin in her willful defiance of protocol.

“R-really?” Unexpected joy and relief burst out of Legolas’s chest like a flock of sparrows exploding from a bush.

The sweetest blush rosied her cheeks, but she still had not moved her hands from the front of his tunic, he noticed. “The flowers are the most beautiful present I have ever received, but knowing that what I had hoped for is true, that they came from you… that is really the best gift.”

“I do not believe there is anyone gladder about your begetting than I,” the elf prince avowed.

And as her whole face lit up brighter than Gil-Estel, as she slid her arm through his and guided him into the cottage, Legolas felt the nudge of a distinct sound inside his head: the chuckle of an older brother whom he had just given yet another anecdote to refer to the next time he wanted to crow over being “always right”.

Elves HC Tag List: @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @achromaticerebus @aduialel @asianbutnotjapanese @auttumnsayshi @blueberryrock @conversacomsmaug @elan-ho-detto-elan-15 @entishramblings @fizzyxcustard @freshalmondpandadonut @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @glassgulls @heilith @heranintomyknife23times @ladyweaslette @laneynoir @lathalea @lemonivall @LiliDurin @quickslvxrr @ratsys @scyllas-revenge @stormchaser819 @talkdifferently6 @tamryniel @tamurilofrivendell

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maximumkillshot · 6 months

Text

"I Can't Lose You" Part 3

Warnings: This one is bad... Like bad bad. Uhm so please pay attention to these warnings. *Brings out a scroll with a solemn face.* Descriptions of Blood, Emergency medical procedure explainations, Shock, Grief, Chan gets shoved once, (IF YOU WANT NO SPOILERS AND KNOW YOU CAN HANDLE THE FIC CONTINUE) Child Loss, Descriptions of miscarriage.

Pairing: Bangchan x Reader

Characters: OC Doctor, Stray Kids, Reader

A/N: I know the cut is very high up but I needed to be sure that it wouldn't trigger someone would get triggered by the story. I am so sorry I am doing this to y'all. But here we are. Enjoy getting your heart ripped out? I guess. IF YOU WANT MORE TELL ME!

Also remember, this is a fan fic. All of the boys are so sweet IRL.

Stray Kids! Masterlist

Overall Masterlist

ALL WORK IS UNDER ME AND MY BLOG. DO NOT TRY TO REPUBLISH OR STEAL MY WORK, AS THAT IS COPYRIGHTED UNDER ME AND IS CONSIDERED COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT WHICH IS A PUNISHABLE OFFENSE.

ANY WORK THAT YOU SEE ON OTHER SITES THAT ARE MY WORKS PLEASE NOTIFY ME IMMEDIATELY.

Previously:

You looked at Bin and Han and begged them to stay. Both of them looked at the doctor and said that whatever was happening, they weren't leaving. The doctor could see that you really needed them and as long as they were not in the way, it didn’t matter whether they were here or not.

After the nerve block and the procedure, the doctor cleaned you up and draped a warm blanket over you, while the nurses hooked up a transfusion and closely monitored you. The doctor asked for Bin in the hall while Han went right back to your hand without the IV in it, so he could hold it properly.

Bin tried to ignore it during the procedure but the look that the doctor had on his face when he was doing the preliminary exam was haunting. Whatever he was called out here for… it wasn’t good.

NOW:

Once both Bin and the Doctor were in the hall and closed the sliding door separating you from the bustling main hallway, Bin got that feeling again. That sick feeling that something was wrong. The doctor looked like he was trying to stay professional.

It was then that Bin noticed the doctor's wedding ring. He wondered to himself if the doctor was like Bin. So deep in love that seeing anyone else doesn’t just feel blasphemous, but it’s so out of the question it’s nauseating. The doctor began.

“Are you her husband?” He asked.

“No…” Bin replied. He could feel the bile rising in his throat with that one question. He immediately thought, If I was this never would’ve happened.

“Are you family?” The doctor looked at him.

“Yes. Are they okay?” Bin looked at the doctor.

“She lost a lot of blood, through something called a hemorrhage. It’s a rare complication especially this early on. She wouldn’t have made it if this happened at home. But it’s under control now.” the doctor said. He seemed to be trying to be as sympathetic as possible, making the next question sting more.

“Okay, and the baby?” Bin asked as he was trying to hold on to the possibility, some shred of hope that you and the baby were okay. He didn’t want the answer to be…

“I’m sorry.” The doctor slowly shook his head as he bowed his head slightly. The doctor looked guilty, like this was the worst part of his job, not being able to save someone.

“How? Why?” Bin asked as it felt like his heart twisted. He didn’t know how you were going to get through this. He knew you too well. He knew that the pain you were about to feel, the emotional pain, would spell your demise... Bin couldn’t wouldn’t let that happen.

“There is a cause-and-effect relationship that stress, extreme traumatic stress, like what you described, can cause a mis--” “Please don’t finish that word.” Bin pleaded with tears in his eyes. That word. He’s never hated a word in his life, until now. A word like that, even the word Death is kinder. To die you need to have lived in the first place, breathe air, feel emotions, like happiness, fear, love… None of those things happened for your child, through no fault of their mother. The same woman he’s staring at, the very same woman he always stared at.

“The fact that she went through the shock as well as the prolonged stress after that shock, and didn’t have any previous symptoms of that happening prior to that, rules out all of the other options.” he paused and looked at his ring. Bin could tell what he was thinking, the doctor’s jaw tight, I could never dream of doing that, then continued, “You know her better than I do. Will she need something to calm her down?”

“Yes… but I don’t think she’ll accept it.” Bin looked back at you and Han. You looked so out of it. Like you were and were not there simultaneously. He has never seen you like this. From what he could see it looked like Han was doing his best to distract you. He was playing with your fingers as he joked.

It was convincing enough to relax you, but Bin knew better. His eyes are always so expressive, if he's genuinely relaxed, his eyes show it. Bin could tell that Han was many things at this point in time, and worry free was not one of them.

“Would you like to tell her?” the doctor asked. That question made Bin think a little bit. If he did tell you, he didn't know if you'd believe him. It's easier to ignore reality when the person breaking the news isn't a doctor. You'd accept it if it came from the doctor.

“She’ll believe it if you say it… Just have the medicine on standby. Also, what do we do to help her? What’s next?” He asked.

“Well like I said her bleeding was extensive... I want to keep her for at least a full 24 hours, in case the bleeding starts again. I’ll also arrange for her to meet with the OBGYN during that time as well, to make sure we got all of the tissue out, that way there’s no chance of another hemorrhage or infection. Sounds like a plan?” The doctor asked.

“Yes… thank you." Bin took a deep breath before he went in, the doctor trailing behind him.

The doctor closed the sliding door as Bin looked at you, then at Han briefly. He lowered the guardrail and made eye contact with Han, who mirrored his actions shortly after.

“Mrs. Y/L/N” the doctor began but you cut him off.

“My baby. Please tell me my baby’s okay… please,” the urgency written on your face.

Han's eyes were set on Changbin. The minute you asked that question, Bin lowered his head, jaw tight, and tears were already beginning to form. When Bin looked at Han, he already knew.

The doctor looked at you and said “I...I’m so sorry.”

Your face showed nothing but confusion… you had just gotten the first ultrasound. You had it done a week ago. No, you saw your baby.

“Y/N” Bin asked gently. He saw the look on your face, and it killed him. Seeing your brain reach for any other outcome other than the one right in your face. He tucked some stray strands of hair behind your ear as he watched and waited for the understanding to reach your face, it didn’t.

“No, it can’t be, I just got the ultrasound done. No,” you replied.

Han and Bin looked at each other. Han's eyebrows dipped, as he processed and tried to brace for impact. Bin on the other hand, was willing himself to take a step back, knowing that you needed to hear this. It had to get through, that's the only way you could start healing.

The doctor looked solemn as he said, “Mrs. Y/L/N I could tell that you were and still are contracting. The reason why your body is doing it, from what I can discern, is because your body went through extreme stress and emotional trauma, when that happens this early, your body rejects the pregnancy. That does not mean that this is your fault, it's the opposite. It’s completely out of your control.”

Bin could see the cogs turning in your brain as you slowly started shaking your head. Reality starting to seep in. Bin wished that you didn't have to go through this. That you got the fairytale ending without the heartbreak. That you didn't have to face the death of your own child. That pain, anguish, and suffering.

The doctor continued, “There is an even rarer condition in which the body rejecting the pregnancy ends in a condition called a hemorrhage. It’s a technical term for excessive bleeding, in this case, it happened because your body is trying to expel the tissues in your cervix. Because it was so sudden, your cervix didn’t have time to open. When I examined you, you weren’t even at half a centimeter dilation, and all of that tissue was trying to be expelled. That was why I had to do that procedure, to get the tissue out so bleeding could be minimized. I’m so sorry… but you had a miscarriage.”

Once that word was said the scream that you let out was something that Han nor Bin have ever heard in their lives. It was soul-crushing. Both of them could hear your heart breaking, shattered on the ground. Bin and Han wanted nothing more than to pick up those pieces and fix it. They knew that they couldn't, this is a hurt they can't fix.

Han held you as you screamed, begged, pleaded… You looked at Bin. “Bin please, look at me. Please tell me it's not true… Please you don’t lie to me, I know you'll tell the truth pleeease.”

Bin looked at you, “I can’t tell you it’s not true. I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.” The look of devastation on his face only sealed the fact. Bin has never lied to you so why would he start now? Especially with something as serious as whether or not you had a miscarriage.

The look that painted his face, brows upturned as his eye contact was nothing short of empathetic. You could tell he wanted to lie.

He wanted it to be false, that it was just some freak minor bleeding… that the baby was okay…he wanted it so badly… but you can't want something into existence.

That realization hit you in a split second as the monitors that were connected to you, measuring vitals, started going off. You could feel nothing but pain. The involuntary gnawing, pulling pain. The blood, the cold from lack of blood in your body…The physical agony was nothing compared to what you felt in that split second.

Your heart rate was literally too fast for you to register, pain surging through you as comprehension slammed into you like a tsunami. The baby is gone. Your baby. Your heart rate was through the roof and the doctor went to your IV.

“Y/N I’m going to give you something to calm you down okay? Your heart can’t take this stress, it’ll give out.” The doctor pushed the medication.

“I want my baby…Bin I want my baby… Han please, my baby.” You sobbed as you held on to Han.

All Bin could do was say, “I know you do, I’m so sorry. I’m here. I’m sorry.”

Han got on the gurney with you and cradled you. He cried with you. Prayed that it was just a nightmare. Han looked to Bin, only to find him trying to fight the tears that were falling down his face. Bin's soul was hurting for you, bargaining with whatever powers out there, to give himself up for you and your child. He knew it was irrational but if he could've, he would've.

As soon as the medicine kicked in your breathing started to slow. You still whimpered and cringed as you felt your body bearing down, still shaking slightly and cold to the touch. Han draped his jacket over you, resting you against his chest, singing to you, to calm you.

Every once in a while reality would crash into you again, you’d reach for Bin. You knew why you did, he was always there. He always understood you on a deeper level. Sometimes he knew what you needed when you didn’t even know you needed it.

Eventually he pulled up a chair and laid his head on his forearm, hand in yours and close to his lips. as he gently rubbed circles into your hand with his thumb. As soon as you’d squeeze that hand he’d squeeze back as he nuzzled into your hand. His way of letting you know that yes, this is the reality, but he is still here. Wordlessly, endlessly, he’d be here. Sometimes you’d comb your fingers through his hair, the feeling somewhat comforting.

You were so tired it went down to your bones. Sometimes only mustering a long blink at the pain. Eventually your vitals started looking good enough to transport.

The doctor came in with solemn reverence, like he was intruding on a funeral.“Y/N, we’re going to keep you overnight at the least, you’re going to have a visit from the OBGYN in the morning, okay? We have your bed ready so soon someone’s going to come to transport you.”

You just looked up at the doctor and nodded, “T-thank you” you hiccupped, “Hannie and Binnie are staying with me.”

“I’ve already put a cot in the room for them. I wish I could’ve done more,” he said with a sad smile. Bin got up and shook his hand, thanking him.

As soon as the transport nurses came to get you Bin said “I’ll see you in a bit. I just need to do something really quick.” you nodded and Bin kissed your forehead. He had to go back to the house. He didn’t know why immediately, just that he had to.

He was on autopilot the entire ride to the house, except for the red lights. He didn’t need to be strong at those lights. He’d scream where no one could hear him. Letting the pain out as images of you flashed. Smiling, then flashing to the scream you let out. Laughing, then sobbing in that hospital gurney. Cooking with him, to crying on Han.

His screams were from mourning, pain, and frustration. He mourned the baby and you. The pain for you, the pain of realizing all of the things that you won’t experience. The frustration of not being able to see it before. To protect you, guard you. He wanted to rip something… someone… apart. There. That was the impulse that drove him back to the house.

At the last red light, he breathed deep, not even wanting to. He used whatever force that was left over as he screamed one last time. Everything he did, your child would never experience. Every scream echoed, redoubling the anguish he had for the both of you. Culminating into this, silence as he turned the corner to the house.

To his surprise, all of the other member’s cars were still at the house when he pulled up. When he parked, he looked at the clock on his dashboard, it was 2 a.m. Had it been 6 hours already?

He felt his adrenaline kick up as he opened the door. He found everyone still wide awake, waiting for answers, but one look at Bin and they gathered what they needed.

Chan walked into the room from the kitchen and his jaw dropped upon seeing him.

“Bin…what happened?” Felix asked gently, hand’s slightly raised, as if approaching a wild animal. The aura on Bin wasn’t his aloof, goofy, self, it was the opposite; dark, threatening, dangerous. Bin’s eyes were trained on Chan, the closer he got, the more Bin felt his resolve slipping… Chan looked at him up and down, concern and horror written on his face. It was only then that Bin noticed he was covered in your blood.

His resolved snapped at that realization, upper lip ticking into a repressed snarl as he breathed “I’m… going to kill you.” He made a B-line to Chan. Felix, Minho, and Jeongin had to hold him back.

Once Bin realized he couldn’t get to Chan, he screamed, “Was it worth it?! HUH?!!” His veins were popping out under his skin as he struggled to get free, “Was it?! Tell me! You hurt and nearly killed the only person I’ve ever loved. She’s dead inside now, all thanks to you!” More flashes accompanied that sentence, him picking you up and watching you go limp, eyes fluttering.

Felix looked at Bin and said, “What?... Hyung..” Felix's voice trailed off, trying to process what he heard. Felix knew that if he heard Bin correctly…he couldn’t even complete that thought.

Bin’s eyes snapped to Felix and he relaxed to the point where all three let go.

“The doctor said that because of the severe stress and emotional trauma she endured her body rejected the pregnancy.” He bum-rushed Chan and slammed him against the wall, while everyone was either in shock or processing. Felix was the first and only one to try to get Bin off Chan. Changbin was just too strong for the younger man, he ignored Felix as he tried wordlessly to pry Bin away from Chan.

Bin continued staring into Chan's eyes, “The miscarriage was so sudden, in fact, that she hemorrhaged and almost bled to death because her cervix couldn’t open on its own in time. They had to scrape the tissue out just to stop it from killing her! And she looked at me to see if it was really true because I don’t LIE to her. Then they had to sedate her because her heart was going to give out when she realized that it was true.”

At this point Bin tightened his grip on Chan, “You are lucky that she asked for me to stay with her… If not I would kill you, right here. You are going to stay AWAY until or even IF she ever wants to see you again. I mean it Chan, if you come near her, I will end you. It’s not a threat, it’s a promise.” With that, he dropped Chan and went to the washroom. He washed off as much blood as he could and went to his room to change into spare clothes. He wanted to destroy everything in his room. His keepsakes, his picture frames of the boys all together. There was only one picture frame that he did smash to dust before he left his room… the one of himself and Chan, on Chan’s wedding day. He picked up his bloody clothes, stalked back out to Chan, and threw the clothing at him.

He was shaking with rage as he said, “To YOU… this could’ve been a game or a thrill, fucking with her heart. But THAT!” he pointed to the clothing, “that is the reality. A child is dead, your child and it almost killed Y/N too. Next time you want to contact her, look at what you did to both of them while you do it.”

Before Chan could say anything Bin was slamming the door shut behind him with such force that the wall itself vibrated. Right as he made it to his car Felix ran to him. “Can I go with you?” he asked.

“I’m not leaving the hospital for the whole night, you know that, right?”

Felix nodded and got into the passenger seat. The whole ride over Felix couldn’t help but to stare at Bin. He has never seen him like this. So enraged that he was three seconds away from crushing Chris’ windpipe.

He also noted how Bin didn’t seem to know that he was covered in blood until Chris looked at him. Even now he could see Bin’s grip on the steering wheel was so strong his knuckles were white. He didn’t know exactly what happened in those four hours they weren’t given updates, and Felix knows just by seeing Bin, he never wants to find out.

As soon as Bin entered your hospital room he heard you say “Binnie?”

Honestly, he could melt every time you call him that.

“I’m back…” he chuckled slightly… “And I brought some sunshine with me…”

The minute he looked into your eyes, you smiled just a little. That was progress. He kissed your forehead as Felix looked you over.

Felix is like your little brother, so the minute you saw him and he saw you, you both started crying. Han got off the bed knowing Lix would want to be with you for a bit, for both of your sakes.

This gave Han and Bin time to talk out in the hall.

“How’re her contractions?” Bin asked.

“They’re slower but still strong. The doctor says that it’ll be strong for at least 5 to 10 hours.” Han reported.

“And you? How’re you doing?” Bin asked. He knows Han has anxiety, seeing all of this and being as strong as he’s been is not easy.

“I’m… Out of all people, Bin.” Han shook his head. Han has known Chan the longest and he would’ve never expected him to do this.

“I know”

“Please tell me you didn’t hit him.” Han said.

“Nah… She needs me more than I need to beat him to a pulp… I don’t think he’ll be bothering her anymore though.” That’s at least what Bin hopes. Everything is so raw. A little over 8 hours before this you were at a restaurant to celebrate your 3rd anniversary. Now everything was all wrong, a nightmare incarnate and no one can wake up from reality.

“Hyung… She can’t go back to that house.” Han said as he took a deep breath.

“I know. All I know is that we'll do what she’s comfortable with.”

“Agreed…Bin?” Han asked.

“Yeah?”

“It should’ve been you with her. From the beginning.” Han looked to Bin, a look of understanding and empathy for Bin. Han could always see the way Bin looked at you when no one else was looking. Everything you said would be committed to his memory, even the smallest things like which brand of sesame oil you like best for your bulgogi marinade.

“I know. That doesn’t mean that I can’t be here for her from now on.”

Han just smiled and both of them went back into the room.

********************************************************************

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magicalbats · 5 months

Text

Sanctuary

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 10,874

Warnings: sacrilegious content, monster fucking, tentacle/tongue fucking, brief throat fucking, reader is a nun so take that as you will

A/N: this is my very first commission ever and I had a blast working on it so I asked if I could share it with everyone! I went through and removed the identifiers for their OC but otherwise its exactly the same. I'm going to make a comms page later on for anyone interested so keep an eye out for that, and please enjoy! ❤️

⭐

Snow flurries around your face and buffets the skin to leave your cheeks feeling raw as you peer out over the assembled crowd. There’s a restlessness that hangs over the multitude of heavily bundled bodies lined up in the town square but order had largely been maintained all morning. It was mostly a variety of women in differing sizes, shapes and ages, which tended to help in that regard, while the occasional man was either old, sick or otherwise unfit for the labor needed to support themselves. These people relied heavily, sometimes exclusively, on the church’s community efforts to keep themselves afloat. You could even make out a few small children among the masses where you were standing; antsy from waiting and fussy with hunger, and who were starting to get on their accompanying parents' last nerves by the looks of it.

Cloak whipping in the frigid wind, you shift behind the table where two other Sisters were diligently working to ladle out the porridge and pass out thick slices of bread quickly enough to keep the line moving at a reasonable pace. You were technically supposed to be on break after standing in the same spot for hours, your dominant wrist giving a muted throb from overuse when you take up the spare baler spoon and dip it into the massive pot, but you were having a hard time walking away. You usually did, though. Some might accuse you of taking your responsibilities a little too seriously at times but you liked to think of it more as simply being pertinacious. It was better to toe the line of overzealous than to be apathetic or indifferent to the plights of others, after all, and you couldn’t think of anyone more in plight than hungry children.

Speculatively, Sister Darya eyes the bowl you fill and set aside before starting to spoon out another serving into a second dish. She sends you a sidelong glance even while her hands continue to work through the monotonous motions. Dip, pour, pass across the table. Dip, pour, pass across the table. She doesn’t have to look to ensure every moving piece ends up exactly where it needs to be, and the line keeps moving without interruption even as she sets her prickly sights on you.

“Back so soon, Sister? Perhaps we should have you chained to the nearest bench to ensure you take your breaks when you’re supposed to.”

“That won’t be necessary.” You respond with a cool indifference, unperturbed by the pointed stare she gives you when you reach to fill a third bowl. “I’ll go take my rest once I give these to the children. Surely you won’t find any complaint in that?”

Sister Darya draws a careful breath and lets it out with a sigh. When she speaks next, it’s very soft so that only you might hear her quiet response. “They are supposed to wait in line just like everyone else. Those are the rules. Do not give me that look, Sister. You know as well as I do what lows the starving and the sick will sink to.”

“Then I will take care to ensure nothing of the sort comes of it.” Stamping down the flare of annoyance that sparks in your chest, you stiffly drop the baler back to the table. The older woman narrows her sharp beady eyes at you in warning yet you pay it little mind.

Quickly shoving a spoon into each of the four bowls you’ve prepared, you juggle the dishes into your hands and step out from behind the table. You can barely catch the sound of her grumbling something to the other nun stationed with her as you walk away but aren’t quite able to make out what’s being said. No matter though. She’d never been particularly fond of you and the feeling was decidedly mutual. Nothing that happened here today was going to change that.

The first child you manage to track down in the crowd is on the verge of tears, fitfully tugging at his mothers skirts while he asks her how much longer it will be. She has her hands full with a mewling infant, swaddled and bundled in so many layers that it takes the use of both hands to properly hold onto the bulky mass, and she could not offer him much comfort aside from gentle reassurances that it would be soon. One look at the tired, heavy bags under her eyes vindicates your decision. These people needed help, and you wouldn’t sit idly by if there was something that could be done for them.

Sweeping closer to the pair, you keep your voice gentle even as you project it enough to be heard over the general din. “Do not cry, little man. You must be strong for your mother and your new sibling, isn’t that right? Look at what I have for you.”

Red faced from the snow and the wind, he turns to glance up at you from under the brim of his wide, fur lined cap. The green of his irises seems to swim with valiantly held back tears but they clear almost immediately when he sees the bowl you carefully offer out to him. They appear to you like crystalline lakes turned dazzling with the azure sheen of algae, and you give him your best smile when he eagerly reaches out to accept the porridge in his tiny gloved hands.

Her expression morphing from one of surprise to immense gratitude, the mother ducks her head in quick thanks. “May the Cryo Archon bless you, Sister. Your kindness means much to me and my children.”

“Speak not another word of it. You’re almost to the front of the line now, so you’ll be able to fill your stomach soon. Please take care.”

With a brief nod of acknowledgment, you move on. There’s another child a few paces down, this one a young girl curled up in the arms of her father as if in search of warmth as much as comfort, and you tell them much the same. That they were almost to the front of the queue and he gives his words of thanks as his daughter shyly accepts the bowl you hand to her. Left with still two more to pass out, you work your way further back in the line while assuring the waiting adults that there was enough for everyone to be fed and to just be patient.

Empty handed after finding a pair of brothers solemnly standing in line together, you start to retrace your path towards the table again. You’d spotted a few more kids and you wanted to make the burden of waiting a bit more bearable for them as much as for their parents, but a small scuffle up near the front pulls your gaze and demands your attention first. Your strides turn purposeful now as you make a beeline for the commotion. What you come upon gives you pause, though.

The green eyed boy from before was picking himself up off the ground and trying very hard not to let the hiccuping sobs that shake his shoulders get the better of him. His bowl of porridge was spilled in the barren dirt and frozen mud. A gnarled looking man in a tattered coat was bending to retrieve the fallen dish, mumbling something unkind under his breath while the mother juggles the baby in her arms and frets over her fallen son. At first you think it an accident, the kind of misstep that could happen all too easily when there were so many people crammed together in a single place. But then, to your surprise, the surly man straightens up with the bowl, dips his fingers into what bit of porridge meal was still sticking to the interior and pops them into his mouth.

You see an instant flash of red behind your eyes.

“What is the meaning of this?” You demand, closing the distance at a rapid pace now. “Horrid scoundrel, do you truly intend to repay the Holy Mothers kindness and generosity by stealing from a child? Does that seem right to you?”

The sallow faced man glances up at your approach, takes one look at the black veil covering your hair and scoffs before turning from you. It was clear he thought little of you and your opinions on the matter, and he disinterestedly begins to walk away with his spoils still in hand. Temper flaring just a pinch more, you lengthen the stride of your steps. You brush right past the mother and her children. Reach out with grasping fingers and snag the back of the man’s ratty coat. He aggressively spins around to snap at you, but you were ready with some choice words of your own.

“How dare you! To think that anyone in our great motherland would behave like an uncivilized animal!” You practically spit up at him. “You should be ashamed of yourself for carrying on in this manner when there is plenty to go around for everyone. What have you got to say, huh?”

“I don’t have nothing to say to you, crazy bitch. Let go! Before I get mad!”

A chorus of horrified gasps erupts around you, but you only tighten your hold on him even when his coat is so grimy and unkempt it makes your skin itch. You’re distantly aware of the crowd shuffling behind you, no doubt considering the possible ramifications of stepping in or not, but there was a hesitation when so many of them were women with little to no able bodied men to help. It was only natural, and you didn’t blame them for it. You blamed this no good lout for causing such an unpleasant scene in the first place and you weren’t about to let him get off that easily for being such an inconvenient nuisance to everyone.

“I will not let you go. You owe that boy and his mother an apology, sir. Come, I will even stand with you to lessen the embarrassment you have to face.”

Becoming more aggressive by the second, he violently tries to yank out of your grip. You hold fast though, and only stumble a step before pulling back on his coat with everything you’ve got. He seemed annoyed more than anything else though, and he rounds on you again to loom over your much slighter frame in an obvious display of intimidation as he bellows, “I’m warning you, let me go! Now!”

“And I am warning you, come apologize to them or you will not like how this is going to end.”

His face growing red in anger, he tries once again to forcefully shrug you off. But when that doesn’t work he brings his hand up in a quick arc, clenching it into a tight fist. You barely have enough time to process it’s even happening and then it — harmlessly sails right over your head.

Eyes widening to the approximate size of dinner plates, you watch in mute disbelief as he’s roughly dragged back a handful of steps by an arm wrapped around his neck. The destitute man flails and kicks, grunting when he drops the bowl so he can reach up to claw at the limb cutting off his air supply. It’s useless though. Whoever was holding onto him had a grip as good as iron, evidently, and you catch a burst of coppery-brown hair behind him as he slowly starts to drain of energy and sag. One moment he’s wildly thrashing to get loose and the next he’s … going limp with a wet little gurgle.

You catch your first glimpse of the young man — your heroic savior, as it were — when he bends to deposit the vagrant onto the cold ground without much concern for where or how he might land. His burden hitting the dirt with a bodily thump, he lifts his attention to you. You’re instantly struck by the intense blue of his eyes, and your breath catches in shock.

Was he really human?

“Are you alright, miss? Sorry I didn’t make it here sooner.” Straightening again, he wipes his gloved hands together as if ridding them of dirt after a messy job. Then he steps over the prone man on long, somewhat gangly legs so he can come closer. “When someone said there was a disturbance going on at the church’s food drive I came as fast as I could. I hope you’re not hurt?”

Rousing from your initial disquiet, you take in the whole of him rather than just the strange eyes staring at you in question. You recognize the military uniform immediately, and bob a quick curtsy as was customary when dealing with someone of his station. “Worry not, good sir. I am unharmed and I have you to thank for that. I’d say you were just in time, in fact.”

The young soldier gives you an abrupt, dazzling smile that is so filled to the brim with boyish charm it almost gives you pause. He was handsome, yes, but he also looked like a troublemaker of the highest order. Certainly not someone you would need or want to find yourself mixed up with no matter how good looking he was or how pleasantly symmetrical his features were.

“It was my pleasure, of course, Sister …?”

You lift your chin and tell him your name.

He slowly repeats your name, as if savoring the feel of it on his tongue and the way the syllables curl inside his mouth. “Well, Sister, although I was all too happy to offer my assistance, you still played an admirable part too. Thanks to you I didn’t have to go chasing this guy down. I owe you my thanks as well.”

“Save it.” You sigh, giving your head a brief shake. “I was only doing what’s right. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must tend to the boy he stole from and get him another bowl of food.”

Decisively turning on your heel, expecting that to be the end of it, you start to walk away. To your great surprise, though, he quickly falls into step beside you.

“I’m Ajax, by the way.”

“A lovely name.” You don’t miss a beat but, rather than discouraging him with your indifferent tone, it just makes his grin grow even wider.

“I can help you.” He says it so point blank and matter of fact that for a split second you’re not quite sure what he even wants to lend you a hand with. And that was to say nothing of the why.

“Although I certainly appreciate the offer, I think you’ve helped plenty for one day.” Turning your head, you steal a quick glance back at the unconscious man still lying out on the ground. The boy with the green eyes was spitefully kicking dirt at him and, much like his mother, you willfully chose to ignore it. While it wasn’t exactly good or proper behavior, you figured he was entitled to a tiny bit of payback for what he’d endured. “Shouldn’t you be escorting that gentleman to the jailhouse right about now? Surely that is a much more pressing matter for you than feeding the sick and hungry.”

“Don’t worry, he won’t be waking up anytime soon and I’m sure another officer will happen by any minute now to take care of it.”

You send him a slow, curious look, but he doesn’t seem the slightest bit put out. “That’s an odd thing to say, isn’t it? As a young man in her majesty the Tsaritsa’s army I would have thought you’d jump at the chance for recognition of such a good deed.”

He casually waves that off with a chuckle. “Ah, who really cares about recognition anyway? I’m much more interested in doing what I enjoy than making decisions based on what will earn me merit.”

Something told you that was only a very small fraction of the bigger picture. He was still young and clearly impulsive, so you didn’t doubt that he truly was far more inclined to do only what he found worthy of his efforts to pursue. It wasn’t your place to comment on that though, nor did you want to humor how that applied to you in the here and now by giving it any deeper thought than that.

Ignoring Sister Darya’s incensed glare, you pause at the corner of the church’s food drive table and turn to face your dogged shadow. This man, this soldier named Ajax, obediently halts just within arms reach and looks at you with an expectant, almost puppy-like eagerness as if waiting for the next command to fall from your lips. You may have found it cute otherwise, but you weren’t about to encourage him in any way. It wasn’t in your nature to knowingly lead people on and unlike some of the other Sister’s in the order you didn’t derive any such pleasure from doing so. You’d have to be blunt then.

“I thank you again for your assistance,” You pointedly intone. “But I cannot allow you to waste your time taking on the church’s work. Her majesty has greater expectations of you than handing out bowls of porridge. You have your responsibilities and I have mine. We would both do well to remember that.”

He doesn’t look half as dejected by that as you’d hoped he would, his boyish grin only taking on a frustratingly sly edge now. “Aww, don’t tell me this is your way of sending me off into the cold again.”

“I’m afraid so. I don’t have time to entertain anyone, you understand.”

Those odd eyes of his dance before you as he gives you a quick, appraising glance up and down to take in your shuddering cloak and the fluttering veil atop your head. But it strikes you once again as being strange, how his irises don’t seem to reflect the light at all. Rather they almost seem to swallow it up like a void. You’d initially thought it a mere trick of the senses brought about by the heavy charcoal clouds hanging overhead but … even now, even standing near the cackling flame over which the pot of porridge was simmering, there still was no reflection to be found in his eyes. It was a little unsettling, if you were being honest.

Just what was he?

“You break my heart, Sister. Is it not also the responsibility of a soldier to see that the needs of the people he serves are met? Lending the church a hand would be nothing short of a great honor for me.”

You set your mouth in a firm, unamused line. “I’m afraid I’m not fool enough to believe that when you just told me you’re not interested in doing things simply for merit. You’ve got an ulterior motive in volunteering your services and I’m not interested in such games.”

A quick laugh huffs out of him as he lifts a hand to place it emphatically over his heart. “You wound me, Sister! What do you take me for, huh?”

“Someone who’s time would be much better spent escorting that vagabond away from the food drive before he wakes up and starts causing more trouble for us, that’s what.”

“Fair enough.” Shoulders shaking with laughter, he pauses to give you another glance over from the top of your head down to the toes of your smart leather boots. You’re acutely aware of the other Sister’s watching on in rapt fascination and morbid curiosity, as well as the townsfolk standing close enough to the front of the line to eavesdrop, but you firmly stand your ground. There would be time to feel embarrassed by this scene later, in the privacy of your own dorm.

At length, Ajax finally gives his head a shake. “I didn’t know they made Sisters like you.”

“They don’t. I’m all of my own making.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He finally falls back a step with a brief nod of acknowledgment. Allowing himself one final look at you, Ajax turns away with one last word of parting. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Sister. I hope to have the pleasure of seeing you again soon.”

Standing there in the cold and the chaffing wind, and the flurry of snow, you watch him walk away. You think you could go your whole life without having another run in with him and it would still be too soon. It wasn’t that he was just a bit strange even for a young, headstrong soldier. There was something genuinely peculiar about him. Even putting aside the way he’d kept looking at you, there was still a sense of undesirability about the whole situation. From a nuns perspective he presented a multitude of problems, the least of which being temptation that did not fall in line with your vows.

Turning your head to look at the others when he bends to retrieve the culprit from the ground and save him from the agitated rumblings of the antsy crowd, you spare Sister Darya a withering scowl. “I don’t want to hear a word about it.”

The way her eyes flash at you in mute disapproval seems to say ‘I told you so’ but you adamantly ignore it in favor of reaching for another bowl to fill. At the rate you were going it was starting to look like you’d never get that break.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Everything seems so normal that at first you almost don’t even realize it’s a dream.

Some distant part of you knows you’d been so tired from the food drive that you’d fallen asleep almost as soon as your head hit the pillow after taking a nice, long bath to rid yourself of the permanent Snezhnayan chill. But you were glad for the normalcy of it, content to meander your way through whatever your resting subconscious decided to conjure up. The first scene is a field of wildflowers that does not exist in the ice and snow of your motherland. It’s peaceful there and quiet. A welcome haven of tranquility which you dreamed of with some frequency.

You’re more than a little disappointed when it suddenly changes to the town square. One moment you’d been picking dandelions to weave into a wreath for your hair, and the next you were standing in the middle of a cold barren wasteland. The streets were empty around you, the houses dark and silent. The flowers wilt in your hands. Dropping them, you turn in a circle to survey your surroundings. Nothing looked out of place aside from the total lack of people, or even any dogs or cats roaming the area. No birds, either.

Without a particular destination in mind, you start to walk. A part of you hoped the scenery would change again and morph into a more pleasing visage around you, but that’s not what happens. It feels like you spend many minutes just walking up and down the empty streets like a lost ghost, each step its own eternity. Every breath its own death rattle. A niggling thought in the back of your mind whispers of danger, warns of something being not quite right, and yet you don’t retrace your path back to the starting point in the square. Like there was an invisible string tugging you along, you follow its suggestive pull straight through town to the church.

Despite finding this rather strange, even for a dream, you open the door and go inside without pause.

The sanctuary is just as desolate and deserted as everywhere else had been. You hadn’t seen so much as a suggestion of another living being, human or otherwise, and still the string tugs. Trance-like and spellbound, you follow the exigent summons through the grounds; past altars and holy relics, and pews and the baptistery, out into the courtyard. You cross over bare frozen ground to the monastery. Up the long flight of stairs and down the empty hall until you reach the door to your own room.

This is the first thing that gives you any real amount of hesitation but the string just pulls harder. Like a puppet under the guidance of a masterful biloquist, your hand comes up to grab the knob. You watch yourself turn it and then swing the door open. Your skin prickles with static electricity when you cross the threshold but this, too, is empty. Having half expected to walk in and find your own sleeping form huddled on top of the narrow bed, you’re strangely disappointed to find the sheets neatly made and smoothed out. They looked like they would never be disturbed again, as if the room itself had been plucked out of reality and then frozen in time and space.

You feel the string slip away then, as you’re standing just inside the doorway looking over your bed, and a rattling breath puffs out of you at its loss. It leaves you trembling with newfound life, as if whatever force served to guide you here had sedated your mind and body alike to encourage compliance. Now, though, you were suddenly acutely aware of just how disconcerting the trek here had actually been. How heavy and oppressive the static charged air really is.

Hands clenching and unclenching at your sides to restore feeling in them, you cautiously step around the room. It was not a large space and you were able to complete a full circuit in only ten steps. The bed took up a vast majority of the capacity. Your writing desk took up most of the rest. Suspiciously, you even bend to peer under the metal frame that holds the mattress, but there’s nothing there. It was just as void of life as everywhere else.

When you straighten up again something in the single small window in the room catches your attention. You squint at it a moment but your eyes can’t quite make out what it is, so you step closer. There’s a thin layer of condensation coating the glass and, thinking perhaps that was what was obstructing your view, you reach up to wipe it away. The very real sensation of cold, wet moisture under your fingers startles you more than you’d like to admit. Your foggy mind reels and stumbles over the visceral thought.

And then your eyes adjust.

A dull, muted burst of copper. Red horns. It wasn’t outside amongst the trees and the buildings, and the dark overcast sky. It was behind you.

Holding yourself achingly stiff, you slowly turn around. You’re not really sure how you maintain your cool when every inch of your skin was crawling with a violent eruption of goosebumps but you’re exceedingly glad for it as you set your sights on the monster in the doorway. It’s not just large, it’s huge. You think it must be over seven feet tall, perhaps even pushing eight, and it takes up the whole frame with its massive stature. It seems implausible for something of that size to move around as silent as any soft footed cat, but you’re positive you hadn’t heard a single sound. If this was just a figment of your imagination, you sorely hoped it would dissolve away into nothing very soon.

What you think must be its eye just stares at you though, unblinking and unmoving. This tense stand-off lasts so long, in fact, that your frightened adrenaline eventually starts to wear off bit by bit, leaving you feeling somewhat disoriented in the aftermath. Was it even alive? Had your taxed mind and body really summoned the likeness of a horrible monster just to terrorize you in your dreams? And, perhaps most perplexing of all, why did it spark a distant note of familiarity in the dregs of your memory? Almost like you’d seen it or something like it recently, but that couldn’t be true. Certainly you never would have been able to forget such a creature as this …

You just start to toy with the notion of slipping around it to get back out into the hall when it sedately lifts its arm. Frozen in place by a fresh surge of uncertainty and fear, you watch it push the door so that it swings shut with an almost casual motion. The click of the latch catching sounds like the heavy swing of an executioner's blade.

“You came.”

Its deep, raspy voice seems to reverberate in the very air itself and, finally unable to keep your nerves in check any longer, you take a stumbling step back to press into the wall. Your heart threatens to jackhammer straight out of your chest as you frantically try to process the situation. Not only was it very much alive and capable of interacting with the environment, it could also talk. You’re not sure why that disturbs you as much as it does but there’s no denying how your stomach painfully cramps with sinking dread now. Every fiber of your being thrums with the desire to run and flee, to hide from this monster, and yet you knew you were trapped in here with it. Even if you’d wanted to make an attempt at the now closed door the room was much too small. You’d never get around it.

All you can do is quake when it takes a deliberately slow step forward before stopping again. Just looking at you. Gauging your reaction, perhaps? You didn’t really care about any of that.

“What are you?” It’s little more than a frightened whisper.

“Think of me as a god come to collect on what is rightfully mine.”

Your spine snaps straight even as a disconcerted shudder races through you. “You are no god, foul beast. You’re a demon.”

The thing laughs, low and hoarse. “Close, but not quite. You may call me Foul Legacy. Or, if you would prefer, ‘master’ will suffice just as well for your role.”

“I will call you no such thing!” You hiss in indignant affront.

“You will.” It assures you, taking another controlled step closer. “If I command it of you, your only choice will be to obey. If I tell you to get on your knees and worship me then that is what you will do. I told you, didn’t I? I’ve come to claim what’s mine.”

You start to open your mouth to protest but your words fail you, and you slowly close it again. Frantically now, your wide eyed gaze scans the room looking for any sliver of hope for escape. You were cornered against the wall though. You’d never make it past this thing, and the window was much too small for you to crawl through even if it stopped long enough to let you get it open. The window …

Stealing a split second glance at the rectangle of glass just next to your head, you confirm your suspicions. The streaks left behind in the wake of your hand were still there. The cool condensation had felt undeniably real under your skin which meant, at least to some extent, this dream was a tangible one. Or maybe it would’ve been more accurate to call it a hallucination? It didn’t matter.

If this was real enough to touch then that must have meant the monster was too. It was a slim chance but maybe you could fight your way past it and get away …

“Are you so unimpressed with this form that you allow your mind to wander?” The creature remarks, but it doesn’t sound surprised or even offended at this fact. More than anything, it almost sounds amused and that is what ultimately steels your resolve. It’s mistake would be underestimating you.

“I was merely thinking how best to convey my lack of interest in you, oh great demon lord.” You volley back rather primly. “You don’t exactly look like a man, but you are shaped like one … I wonder if a good kick between the legs might get the message across.”

The fiery haired thing throws its head back and laughs. You almost lose your nerve, but you valiantly cling to that tiny spark of courage you still had left. Cautiously, you start to edge your way down the wall.

“Splendid! I would expect nothing less from my future bride! I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me.”

Stilling, you widen your eyes at it. “Your what?”

You realize your mistake a moment too late. When you should have kept moving towards the desk for the most direct path to the door you’d instead allowed it to give you pause. Even though it lasts for but a single heartbeat that’s more than enough time for the monster to act.

It’s on you in the blink of an eye. Grabbing under your arms, it hauls you straight up off your feet like you weighed nothing at all. The sudden rush of movement, the unexpected press of huge, clawed hands curling around your ribcage shocks a sharp gasp out of you. But before you have a chance to do anything else, it shoves you back into the wall with a bodily thud that makes the old rafters tremble. The impact doesn’t hurt, not really — not as much as it could have, given how strong the creature evidently is — and you just gape down at its horrid face in stunned disbelief.

You'd barely even seen it move …

“Oh, that look of surprise is quite charming on you.” It rasps, snickering low under its breath. “I knew I could rip that frigid mask away with enough time. I wonder how else you’re going to warm up for me …”

“W - what are you —“

The words trail off into nothing when the lower half of its jaw hinges open, and a long, snake-like tongue slips out to waggle tauntingly in the thin space separating you from it. Bile rises in your throat as you bring your hands up to claw desperately at its forearms but it doesn’t even seem to notice. That dreadful appendage just keeps unfurling out of its mouth, dripping threads of saliva here or there that land on the floor with soft little plops that make your stomach roil. Trying very hard not to panic, you futilely turn your head away from it.

“Do not fear what I offer you, little nun. I have every intention of making sure you enjoy this just as much as I do.”

It licks you then, that slimy tongue swiping up the side of your face from chin to temple. The wet, quickly cooling stripe it leaves behind makes you choke in disgust. You think it’s reminiscent of a dog, almost, that was much too eager to show its affection to stop long enough and consider how the recipient might feel about it. In the same breath you have the niggling thought that this was not the first time you’ve been reminded of dogs today. Before you have a chance to connect the pieces, the monster speaks again.

“You really will make the most lovely bride, you know. I’m eager to see you with my mark.”

“I rebuke it!” You snap, struggling anew against its hold. “I rebuke you, foul creature! My faith will protect me and - -“

“Hah! I’d like to see that, Sister.”

You go stock still when it says your name, and your heart skips across your ribs like a rock skimming over the surface of a lake. It felt just as heavy too, in that moment.

But the monster doesn’t give you a chance to recover and that heinous tongue flicks across your cheek to rudely slip inside your mouth. You shriek around the abrupt intrusion, eyes wide and unseeing, as the length of it just keeps coming. It squirms and wriggles its way towards the back of your throat almost too quickly for you to react. Running on instinct now, you viciously snap your teeth down but all the creature does is let out a shuddering groan of pleasure, as if it liked the pain. Your jaw loosens in surprise as much as confusion, and it takes quick advantage of that to shove its tongue straight down your gullet.

You gag on it, heaving with a violent wrench as your throat is penetrated. Tears spring up in your eyes but you can’t even scream with it blocking your airway like this. Helpless to do anything else, you just hang there and try not to pass out while it reaches deeper and deeper into you, through your esophagus almost straight down to your guts. It pauses there, giving you a moment to fully process the sensation of your whole body writhing on its tongue, before gradually starting to withdraw back the way it had come. It’s a sick, claustrophobia inducing sensation that only seems to double down when you dry heave and choke around it but, at last, it slips free of your constricting throat, and you suck in a wretched mouthful of air.

Ignoring the way you cough and spit up bubbling sheets of drool, the horned beast takes a moment to swirl its tongue around the interior of your mouth; feeling along the roof, over your tongue, tracing the outline of each individual tooth straight back to your molars. You shudder and heave, struggling to even comprehend exactly how violated you felt in the aftermath of that disgusting experience. You’d been right to call it a demon …

“You taste good.” It says when it finally starts to retract its tongue a moment later, setting its sights on lapping up the drool that coats your chin instead. “Good enough to eat, in fact. I wonder how much you’ll squeal when I feast between your legs.”

“Unhand me this instant,” You wheeze as more of your strength and will to fight slowly comes back to you with the oxygen you pull in. “You are vile and repulsive … I want nothing to do with it!”

“Oh, now that sounds familiar.”

Noising a tiny sound of confusion, you clutch its thick forearms in a death grip while it moves to set you down on your feet. You don’t trust it, not by a long shot, and your greatest fears are soon realized when its fingers curl into the fabric of your smock. The sound of straining thread reaches your ears long before it actually rips and you cry out when the first ragged strip is torn from you with a deafening tear. Piece by piece, it shreds your clothes to tatters no matter how wildly you try to twist away or cling to the quickly dwindling panels of black cotton. All too soon you find yourself naked save your stockings and the bloomers pulled over them, and your brassiere which it promptly shreds too.

Evidently saving your bottoms for last, it reaches for your veil next.

“No!” You shriek, hating the terror you can hear in your own voice as you make a useless, frantic attempt to shove the monster away.

It actually pauses even though you didn’t so much as budge it one little bit though, and it tips its head to the side inquisitively almost like … almost like a dog. There was that association again but where was it coming from? You couldn’t quite seem to remember, either due to your suffocating fear making the memory slip away or because your sleeping subconscious couldn’t quite remember enough to supply it on demand. Either way, you were sure it held the answer to your current predicament and you just couldn’t seem to grasp it.

Why did this thing seem so damn familiar to you?

“You do not want me to see your hair.” It’s a statement, not a question, and it takes everything you have not to outright scoff.

“Of course I don’t, you fiend! It is improper for a — a man, even one such as you, to look at the uncovered head of a nun who has sworn herself to the faith. You should be ashamed of yourself!”

It seems to consider that for a moment, humming softly as if in thought. “It is my understanding that, should one of the Sister’s ever take on a husband, then he alone is permitted to look upon her uncovered hair. Fine. Then I will allow you to keep your modesty until we consummate our union.”

You prickle defensively at the way it almost spits the word, as if with contempt and spite. “I will not be wed to you! I swore an oath to the church!”

“And now you will swear an oath to me.”

Hissing, it reaches out to grab at your bloomers even when you desperately try to slap its hand away. It tears them off just like everything else with neither forethought or effort, and you seethe at your own helplessness as you make one last ditch effort to wrench yourself free. But it’s too strong, too big. Just one of its hands seems to dwarf your hip when it possessively curls around your waist to hold you still. Your chest heaves with quick, panicked breaths as you tip your face down to watch it bring a claw close to your cunt, expecting it to rip off your pantyhose the same way it had all the rest. But all it does is caress over you with a thick knuckle and your face grows even hotter with indignation at the nudge. You couldn’t stand the thought of this thing touching you like this and yet you couldn’t seem to look away from it either.

“I don’t want this,” You whisper, barely even hearing your own voice over the blood that pounds in your ears.

“You will.” It assures you. Unexpectedly gentle, tentative almost, it curls its thick forefinger further back to prod at your crease and you fitfully shudder at the implication.

Was it really going to take you to wife? You’d never heard of anything more ridiculous; a nun and a one eyed demon, horns and all. It was completely useless to try and keep your cool any longer, and you outright whimper when it carefully pokes its claw up to pierce the thin layer of nylon. Hyper aware of how much it would hurt to get nicked by that sharp talon in such a sensitive spot, you force your body to stay as still as you can manage while it rips your stockings open at the crotch. Cool air wafts against your exposed cunt, making you tremble, and it breathes out a sigh of great pleasure as it teases the patch of curls there with those monstrous fingertips.

“Am I the first one to ever see you like this?”

“O - of course you are, foolish beast … I take my vows seriously. This isn’t — it’s not right, do you hear me? I was saving myself …”

Issuing a low, rasping laugh, it reaches up to palm your other hip with a muted squeeze, holding your waist in both hands now. “You were saving yourself for me. This whole time you were always fated to become my bride and you did so well maintaining the sanctity of your body but that’s all over now. You’re free to embrace your most depraved thoughts and urges. Free to languish in the licentious and erotic desires you’ve been suppressing for so long. I offer you no judgment for your human needs. Only pleasure.”

Squirming against its hold when your pussy flutters in unmistakable interest, you bring your hands up to weakly clutch its huge wrists again. You couldn’t believe this was happening. How could your body betray you over a creature like this? “No. I won’t fall for it. I refuse!”

“We shall see.”

Its tongue slips out again, curling through the air like a pink, wet serpent. Down to your chest where it takes a moment to flick over your nipple until it's coated in a fine sheen of spit and achingly stiff. You didn’t want it touching you like that but you also didn’t want to touch it, so you stop yourself from smacking at it. Just keep reminding yourself that this is only a dream — a very realistic, disturbingly tangible one, but a dream nonetheless. Whatever happened here held no weight in the real world.

And maybe … just maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to indulge in the carnal just once?

The prodding tip of its tongue gives your teat one last wet nudge before tracing a path down your front. Past your ribs and its huge thumbs bracketing your waist, over your bellybutton and straight down to brush against your curls. You shudder at the sensation, at the very suggestion of what was to come, but you don’t fight it now. Rather, you hesitantly shift your weight from one foot to the other and then cant your hips forward with a shy little push. The monster hums a rumbling sound of approval before dipping its tongue between your thighs.

Eyes widening at the feel of it on your cunt, you just stand there like a frozen statue while it traces along the seam of your body. You’d never experienced anything like it before, and you were horrified at how eagerly your loins curl in anticipation. You almost let your courage waver, almost second guess your impulsive decision to humor this at all, but until you woke up you were effectively trapped and fighting it clearly wasn’t going to do any good.

Oh, why couldn’t you just wake up from this nightmare already?

“Relax.” It breathes out, unconcerned by the glistening threads of drool that drip from its mouth. “I will not hurt you, little nun.”

You wanted to believe that very badly. Almost as much as you wanted to believe that indulging like this wouldn’t have any impact on your waking conscience.

That slimy tongue starts to push up then, pressing into your lips, and you suck in a harsh breath. It teases around your entrance for a brief moment before it starts to wriggle its way in deeper. The penetration is not unlike that of your throat — all fleshy and smooth, and damp with spit — but it still stretches you enough to toe the line of discomfort. Swaying in its hold, you let out a dizzy groan.

“Oh … that’s - -“

“Only the tip.” The thing laughs.

You try to calm your breathing as it moves around inside you to work your body open, but it’s a losing battle. The stretch of until now untested muscle makes you wince while the slimy sensation of its tongue eagerly moving along your inner sleeve just leaves you wanting to throw up. You don’t think it’s supposed to feel like this, surely. Even without any experience of your own to go off of you’d expected sexual encounters to be more intimate and less … invasive. Less like you were being probed far beyond what any human hands should have been able to reach.

But if it sees any of the uncertainty flashing across your face it doesn’t show it. The demon only worms its tongue deeper and deeper as your passage reluctantly opens until the distant sensation of it bumping the end of you knocks a harried whimper loose. It’s an uncomfortable pressure but it doesn’t hurt. You’re exceedingly glad for that as you awkwardly shuffle your feet further apart to brace against the overload to your senses. It was like burning from the inside out, and the epicenter of it was concentrated squarely in your cunt. You felt certain you were going to combust any moment now.

“Mmm, you taste even better than I imagined. And so tight, too. I can’t wait to feel you squeezing my cock the same way.”

Your stomach clenches at the thought of how big a creature of this size must be. Fresh fear turns your veins to ice, and you weakly push against its hands. It doesn’t even seem to notice though, let alone take heed, and instead it just leisurely swirls that unnaturally long tongue around your guts. Back and forth, up and down. You’re dizzy with it and a little nauseous, but it also starts to feel good. Slowly but surely that initial discomfort fades to leave behind a thrumming vibration that makes you wheeze where you’re standing. And with it comes slick. So much slick that what you’d once thought only to be saliva quickly makes itself obvious as your cunt practically floods around the intrusion. It was impossible to comprehend the sheer extent of your arousal and yet it clearly didn’t matter. You’d toed the line a bit too close. Now there was no stopping it.

“P - please … it’s too much!”

Giving your waist a careful squeeze, the demon alters the motion of its tongue from swirling to thrusting. Sedate at first, it withdraws to drag against your interior walls when they squeeze and cling to the appendage and then it pushes back in. Right up to the end of your passage where it can’t go any further and the intense pressure makes you go cross eyed. You can’t even fully process how stuffed your cunt actually is, your legs turning weak and jelly-filled as it slowly increases the pace. The force. You’re beyond ashamed at the sticky wet clicks it pulls from between your thighs, but all you can do is helplessly writhe in its hold.

“Oh — oooh, wait … I - I can’t do this! I can’t!”

“It’s too late for that, Sister. You’re already doing it.”

You mewl at its response and throw your head back to wheeze up at the ceiling. It wasn’t wrong. You’d already crossed the line, yes, but this … this strange, unfamiliar feeling low in your gut was far beyond anything you would have ever expected from this. It was like you had to relieve yourself but also different somehow. A complete unknown you had no idea how to make sense of, and you let out a choked off squeal when the thrumming tension rapidly starts to double and then triple. No amount of thrashing was getting you out of its hold so you squeeze your thighs together in a vain attempt to dissuade it from moving inside you like that but it’s no use. Even trying to curl your legs up doesn’t work.

It just keeps fucking it’s tongue into your shuddering body without pause, and you start to feel truly dizzy as you dangle there between it’s massive hands. How could this be happening to you? And, more pressing, what was happening to you?

“You’re getting close, I suspect.” It sounds quite proud of that, but you’re a little too preoccupied with the jittery, firecracker nerves making you tremble and shake to question it. The pressure was getting almost unbearable now. You weren’t sure how much more you could take.

“Ahh — ahhghnn, ooohh please Holy Mother, please help me!”

“Aww, don’t start making me jealous. I’m the only god you should be praying to right now.”

Screwing your eyes shut, you turn your face from its horrible unblinking eye but it just laughs in response. Even if you’d wanted to snap at it for being so presumptuous as to think you would worship it in any capacity, you were finding your lungs constricting far too much to draw a proper breath. Your chest heaves with the blinding tension that races through your body and then — so suddenly you don’t get a chance to realize it’s even happening, it abruptly tips over. Spills out to wrack the whole of your body and devolve you into a shuddering mess of spasms.

You shriek and yelp as your pussy almost violently squeezes down on its tongue which just keeps moving insistently inside you. In and out, in and out like a continuous piston that even your tightly clenching guts couldn’t seem to keep at bay. That slippery appendage keeps spearing through you unimpeded, forcing your roiling muscles to keep contracting with each plunge, and you very nearly pass out from how intensely the sensation hits you. It was simultaneously like drowning deep in the bottomless ocean and soaring high overhead at the same time. You couldn’t even begin to make heads or tails of it.

But it starts to fade much too fast. The sharp jolts of undeniable pleasure only last what seems to you like a few seconds and then those cresting waves are rapidly receding, like the tide pulling back from the shoreline. You still can’t quite draw a full breath and yet you soon go slack as the tension drains completely to leave you twitching in the aftermath. An odd sense of elation quickly rushes in to replace it though, and you’re ashamed at how you innately warm to the monster’s presence. You couldn’t believe how good that had felt … and bless the Cryo Archon, did that make you a terrible person?

All of a sudden you weren’t so sure you cared about that anymore, and that terrified you perhaps more than anything else that had happened here in this room.

“You look so good creaming all over my tongue.” It murmurs, drawing your muddled attention away from those fuzzy headed thoughts. “And the way you taste? Burn everything, I could help myself to this pretty cunt all day. I'm eagerly looking forward to consummating our marriage on the next new moon.”

Stirring out of your post-climax stupor, you frown at it in genuine confusion. “You aren’t going to do it now?” You weren't disappointed. Surely not. Just surprised, and very confused.

The demon sighs forlornly — rather dramatically, if you were being honest — and shakes its head. “I’m afraid not. I’d like to, of course, but the mating ritual has its own rules that I can’t supersede. Oh, don’t give me that grumpy look, Sister. I’m not leaving you empty handed tonight, rest assured.”

You draw a quick breath to berate the damned thing but then it starts to pull its long tongue out of your body and you tense up, seething through your teeth instead. The sharp sensitivity still racing through your nerves made you feel raw and tender. Overwrought in the most literal sense, and it finally slips out with a wet little slurp that makes you whimper at the loss as much as at the sound. You hadn’t thought yourself capable of, well … any of that. Any of this.

How were you possibly supposed to rationalize any of it in the light of day?

You’re still trying to work that out when it carries you to the bed where it sets you down, pulls back the sheets and then tucks you in with a truly shocking amount of care. You definitely hadn’t expected that. Not that you’d expected much of anything that had happened over the course of this implausible dream, but you decide not to fight it as the monster takes a moment to brush your veil over the pillow the same as it may have done with your hair. It was all much too strange to think about right now. You could pick it apart and analyze it tomorrow, when you’d had some time to actually process these bizarre happenings.

Or maybe never, if your subconscious was kind enough to let you forget any of this had ever happened in the first place.

“Rest now.” It tells you softly in that low, raspy voice. “I will be back to claim what’s rightfully mine soon enough.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You remember everything, of course.

And somehow that doesn’t surprise you in the least as you lay there in your bed, staring up at the ceiling while warm rays of morning sunlight bounce off the stark, unadorned walls. In retrospect you’re a bit disappointed to think that you could ever be so naive. To believe you’d forget something like that … it had certainly left an impression, at least.

What does strike you as odd though is the warm, continuous cramp in your lower belly. You readily want to write it off as menses related but … that doesn’t seem right. It should have been too soon for that just yet in your menstrual cycle.

Unable to stay your gnawing curiosity any longer, you finally rip the sheets off and look down at yourself. Your plain white nightgown is a bit rumpled but given the dream you’d had that didn’t seem so strange. That’s what you try to tell the niggling voice in the back of your mind anyway as you gather it up around your waist but what you find underneath stops you cold.

Etched into the skin just over the center of your pelvis as though with ink was a four pronged, hexagonal sigil. It was faintly purple in the light, and as clear as day. But that didn’t make any sense. Or rather, you couldn’t make any sense of it at all. You’d been asleep the whole night, here in your room, and this most assuredly had not been there when you’d taken a bath the previous evening …

You bolt upright with a strangled gasp. Turning your head to look at the window sends a debilitating chill racing through your body. Through the morning condensation beading on the glass you could see the evidence of a hand smudge, right where you’d touched it in your dream.

“No.” You whisper at the glass pane and then, with more conviction, “No. That’s not possible!”

It feels like your skin is trying to crawl right off your bones as you shoot out of bed and make a beeline for the tiny closet next to the desk. You rip the door open so forcefully it rattles and groans in protest but you can’t be bothered to worry about that right now. Not when you were staring at your habits, the one you’d worn yesterday, hanging in shreds from the hanger. You couldn’t believe it. Didn’t want to believe it, but the proof of it was staring you right in the face. Even your brassiere and bloomers were torn to pieces in the little basket you kept them in on the floor of the closet. The only thing untouched was your veil. Just like in your dream … except, it wasn’t actually a dream, was it?

Too numb to even wail over this revelation, you slowly sink down to the floor and just stare at your ruined clothes for what feels like a lifetime. There had to be some way out of this mess. There had to be.

Right?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The archbishop gives you an exceedingly strange look when you inquire about exorcisms, and it only continues to grow more and more pronounced the more you push the matter while also skirting around the subject at the same time. Not that you could really blame him, of course. You’d had to wait until after the morning service to corner him next to the dais before he could slip out through the side door so you’d had plenty of time to stew over everything, which meant you were coming in perhaps a little hot on the topic. That didn’t matter though. You were determined to get this resolved regardless of the cost, and if that meant having to shake some sense into him before he’d take you seriously then that was exactly what you were going to do.

Luckily it doesn’t come to that, and he eventually relents after you doggedly refused to give up your line of questioning. Giving his head a hopeless shake, he takes on the tone of someone leveling with a crazy person. “I understand your concerns, Sister, but exorcisms aren’t something that we implement unless absolutely necessary. It is very much a last resort, you see, and there is a rigorous process to even get approval for one. I’m afraid there’s not much else I can tell you.”

You remind yourself to take a deep breath and count to five before speaking next. It wouldn’t do to snap at the one person who might actually be able to help you get out of this mess. “With all due respect, Father, I don’t think that answer will suffice. Even if it’s not a full on exorcism, surely there must be smaller measures in place to help … discourage a demonic presence from returning?” Something a bit more effective than prayer and baptism evidently were.

His eyes narrowing in clear suspicion, the archbishop speculatively regards you for a moment. “Is there something you aren’t telling me, Sister?”

Of course it would finally get to this point. You’d expected as much, yes, but that doesn’t make the dread wrenching at your gut any less unbearable. How were you supposed to explain any of what had happened last night when you didn’t even understand it yourself? All you knew was that your clothes were in tatters up in your dorm, the window still showed evidence of your hand wiping across it and your lower stomach …

“Ah, Sister! There you are! Just the lady I was hoping to see.”

You spin around so fast your eyes feel like they’re going to pop right out of your skull. That feeling only increases when you find Ajax standing there at the end of the pew in his neatly pressed uniform and his smile blinding under the light that comes in through the stained glass murals. Your knees buckle and almost completely give out under you when your belly twists as if someone had shoved a red hot iron into it. Subconsciously you lift a hand to cradle the spot where the tattoo was but you couldn’t quite seem to tear your shocked gaze away from him.

That was it, wasn’t it? The association.

You think that has to be right. Had never been more sure of anything else in your life, and yet that doesn’t seem half as pressing as the thrumming arousal that grips you so suddenly and so tightly it actually pulls a quiet whimper out of you. Your cunt floods with it, so much slick producing at the drop of a coin that it makes you feel nauseous and disoriented in the same breath. But how could that be? And why was he just standing there inside the church as if it was the most normal thing in the world for him to be doing?

This was hallowed ground … wasn’t it?

“W - what are you doing here?”

Grinning, Ajax tips his head to one side. Inquisitive. Eager. Puppy-like. Bless the Holy Mother, you really were going to be sick.

“Aww, come on. Didn’t I tell you already?” He laughs softly, but those blue, blue eyes reflect none of that same humor. They reflect nothing at all, in fact. “I'd hoped we’d get to meet again after our little run in yesterday, so I just figured I’d take matters into my own hands and speed it up. I brought you flowers.”

You just catch the sound of the archbishop scoffing beside you in obvious disapproval and you would have wholeheartedly agreed with him under better circumstances. But better circumstances would not have found you panting with the effort of keeping your wits about you. It was like you were suffocating under the weighty pressure of the mark branded into your skin, and it almost seems to throb as you numbly look down at the humble bouquet he holds out. You could tell it was handpicked at just a glance. Some frost growing ferns and puffy cats tails, and … purple ivy.

Affection.

Fidelity.

Wedded love.

He couldn’t be serious, could he?

The sly edge that creeps into his otherwise boyish smile seems to suggest that he was, in fact, quite serious. You stumble back a step in your reeling disbelief and the archbishop hurries to grab you by the elbow so he can steady you, but you hardly even notice the presence of his hands. Your eyes, your mind, your entire being was for Ajax and Ajax alone.

“I did not ask for flowers.”

“That’s true but I still wanted you to have them. You caught my eye yesterday, Sister. I hope you won’t turn me down.”

Confusion and uncertainty grip you in equal measure, but it is the low pulse of the mark on your stomach that truly robs you of the ability to speak. It’s hot and uncomfortable, and the way it makes your pussy sympathetically flutter in time with your heartbeat very nearly overrides all of your higher functioning thoughts. Was he really the monster that had accosted you in your sleep or … could it have been a separate entity? One he wasn’t even aware of, if he thought you could really reject him when just the sight of him standing there made you desperate to be filled again. To be feasted upon by that beast.

Slowly, you reach your hand out to accept the bouquet and the invisible string tightens its noose around you almost imperceptibly. Your fate was already sealed. You knew this to be true on an intrinsic, fundamental level.

Foul Legacy had been right to say you’d been saving yourself for it.

For him.

For this.

You would give him your sanctuary, may the Holy Mother save your soul.

⭐

Crossposted: here

#genshin impact #childe x reader #foul legacy x reader #self insert bullshit

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