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barbieaemond · 4 months

Text

Lykirī

PAIRING: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

WARNINGS: loss of virginity, fingering, oral sex (f and m receiving), handjob, we ride him bitches, dom/sub tones if you squint

WORD COUNT: 8.9k

Author's note: an early Christmas gift for those who celebrate!! For those who don't, just a regular smutty piece. This was based on a request where wife!reader rides Aemond. Merry Aemondmas :)

MASTERLIST

taglist: @zae5 @multyfangirl @arcielee

"You are to marry the King's second son. Prince Aemond Targaryen."

Those were your father's words. Your sister had looked at you almost with pity and a hint of relief since that fate had befallen you and not her. You had simply nodded, accepting the fate decided by your father, just as thousands of other daughters before and after you would have done.

Your mother had come to comb your hair before going to bed, and without much ado, she had told you what would happen after the wedding, after the banquet.

"All you have to do is try to relax your nerves, and I promise it will be less painful.”

The thought had stuck in your brain until the wedding day. And the aura emanating from the prince didn't help. He was stoic to the point of looking like a statue, his posture rigid as a spindle, and there was something unsettling about him that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand when he took your hand to recite the wedding vows. Fear, but also a foreign giddiness prickling your skin upon feeling his calloused fingers around yours.

The banquet had not helped either. Prince Aegon had behaved like a court jester, drinking to the point of wondering how he could stand upright, poking his brother with cruel jokes about his eye and a whore who had made Aemond a man many years before.

You didn’t know what kind of unpleasant memories your good-brother had just summoned in his brother’s mind. That woman and her cheap perfume, that way it had clung to his skin, to his thoughts for days after his only ever trip to Flea Bottom.

Then the elder Prince had approached you with his breath stinking of Dornish and it was then that Prince Aemond broke his icy silence, standing up abruptly and looking down at you. "Come, wife. It is time for us to retire."

Prince Aegon had clapped his hands as if in front of a hilarious show, saying "Finally some fun! The bedding!"

The entire crowd present at the banquet had escorted you to the prince's chambers. The servants had removed your dress, leaving you in your underskirts; you had unconsciously covered your chest, crossing your arms to hide from the greedy eyes of the men peering in the doorway, Prince Aegon in the front row with yet another cup of wine clutched between his fingers.

Master Mellos invited you to lie down on the bed, and you obeyed, swallowing, while a host of servants shielded you from view as the Maester made his humiliating inspection.

"All is in order, your Graces," the Master informed the Prince and Queen. And that was enough for Aemond to completely slip the iron mask off his face and go straight to the door. "The show is over. Get out."

"Oh, come on, little brother. Let me watch, at least. I could give you some tips."

Aemond had towered over his brother, and from your seat on the bed, you were able to see the eldest brother shrinking by the moment. "This is not some common whore you're speaking of.” Aemond seethed “She is my wife, and you will owe her the respect she deserves. One more lewd word from your mouth, and I will rip your tongue with my bare hands. Am I being clear?”

"Gods, brother, are you already so cunt-struck?"

He never got an answer, only the door being slammed right into his face.

You stood in the middle of the room, torturing your hands as he looked at you from the door. He seemed unsure of what to do, until he cleared his throat and took a few tentative steps in the room.

“You could have some wine, if you wish. It may…help you.” He said, but as he said this, he seemed to regret his own words, given how his mouth twitched as if he had just tasted something sour. Memories could come just like that, sudden and sour.

“You must relax, my prince. Have some wine, maybe? No need to worry, I will take care of you just as a prince deserves to.”

“I’d like to keep my mind clear, my Prince.” You said, keeping your gaze down, hearing his fast and deep sigh. “Fine.” he said, straightening his back as a soldier. After all, wasn’t this just another duty?

It wasn’t just that though. You were his wife now, the future mother of his children. It was his duty and his right to claim you as his own.

“Lay on the bed.”

With your heart pounding in your ears, you did as you were told but when the mattress dipped under his weight, you did not expect to see him with his clothes still on, the eyepatch firmly in its place. More so, you did not expect the harshness of his gestures as he held your waist to turn you around. The air hitched in your throat as your face met the mattress and a strange sorrow gripped your heart. Did he not want to look at you? Did he not like you?

“Try to stay still and it’ll be over shortly.” he said. He was trying to sound reassuring, but his voice came out cold and flat. His fingers latched on your underskirts, hiking them up, filling you with embarrassment as you grow completely exposed beneath him.

Aemond knew what to do. He may not have been as depraved as his brother, but he was still a man. And once in a while, when his hands would not suffice, some maid or servant girl would’ve had to bear, quite keenly on their part, his intimate attentions.

As his hands began to glide on your thighs, you shivered and said “Wait…”

Slowly your head turned to look at him, cheeks red and breath slow and anxious. “Am I not allowed to look at you?”

Your words seemed to stun him for a moment. The mere thought of you wanting to look at him made him realize how wrong he was behaving. You were his wife, not a common whore to bend over and have his moment of bliss. He had even told Aegon. That was not his intention, but there was a gap between how he felt and how he acted, a limb severed by years of pity looks and feelings trapped in his mouth and swallowed.

Almost gently, he made you turn but once you were facing him, he pinned your wrists on the mattress, unable to touch him even if you had gathered enough courage to do it. You tried to brace yourself for what your mother had told you. But she had not told you that he would touch you there, that all your senses would go numb except for that one brand new feeling between your legs. But he seemed enthralled by it just as you, his mouth parting to let out slow puffs of air as you grow wet and swollen against his fingers.

Your breath was labored, coming out in soft pants that made your cheeks purple. More so because he kept circling his deft fingers on your core while looking straight into your eyes, reveling in the way you were answering to his call, in the way he was shaping your need, your desire.

“You never touched yourself, did you?” he asked in a husky voice.

You barely shook your head and his eye glinted with something dark as he brought his face close to yours “Good. I shall be the only one inside you.”

He swallowed your shaky breath with this mouth, kissing you for the very first time, apart from the shy, almost prude peck exchanged after the wedding vows. Your lips moved shyly, trembling with the coiling pressure between your legs. And just when you thought this heat, this delicious aching couldn’t grow more unbearable, he sticked a finger inside you, spilling a loud moan right against his mouth.

One of your wrists twisted in his harsh hold, willing to touch him, to grip on something, but he didn’t let you. “Easy…” he blew on your lips “Relax. It’ll feel good, I promise…”

It surely felt good to him, to feel the tightness of your cunt squeezing his finger. He curled it and you squinted your eyes, choking a gasp that made him smirk proudly against your jaw. “Gods, you’re so tight…” he breathed as he kept rubbing slowly against your walls.

“It’s—it’s too much—“ you cried out with pain and pleasure running together, breathing his scent of ash, leather and a hint of something minty.

“How will you take my cock if you can’t even take my finger?” He whispered with benevolent cruelty, moving his finger faster and deeper.

Certainly your mother had not told you of the obscene wet sounds you would hear, of the uncontrollable moans coming out of your mouth, of his soft growling next to your ear when his breeches became too tight.

He had lined the tip of his hard manhood to your entrance, catching your breath away as tried to still your nerves, but the pain came altogether. You felt like he was cutting you from the inside. Tears filled your eyes, squinting for the painful stretching. You knew he was restraining himself; he didn’t want to hurt you more than he already was. And you almost felt affection for him, most men would not have bothered.

Then he had started to move, you felt that stranger body rubbing over and over against your walls, and finally the pain soothed, but not completely. You could tell he was enjoying it, his ragged breath and faint moans told you so, as well as the curses hissed through his teeth in a language you guessed was Valyrian. And then he had stilled completely, gripping your hips hard and firm while you felt a hot wave pulsing through your core.

The next morning, you could barely sit down for breakfast, and your aunt had looked at you with concern and a hint of amusement in her eyes. She was a veteran at court, a long-time widow, and quite happy to be so. It was her who suggested your betrothal to the Prince.

"How are you feeling, sweet niece?"

"Awful." you said promptly, shifting your weight on the seat.

"Well, this is the kind of anguish all women must go through."

"I thought that was giving birth to another human being."

"Oh Gods, no. That is the ugly part. This is the good one," she said with a sly smile "I suggest you enjoy it as much as you can."

At the time, you didn't really understand what she meant. The first night with the prince had gone...well, you thought. But he certainly enjoyed it more than you.

The second time was better. Your muscles were still sore, but the pain was but a faint discomfort compared to the pleasure you felt for the very first time in your life.

The third time he went down on you, bringing you so close to the edge only to deny your release, with cruel enjoyment on his part, making you whine with shame at the loss of his mouth and tongue on your folds.

The fourth time he bent you down on the breakfast table, all things falling in a mess of cutlery. He had pulled up your skirts and lowered his breeches just enough to thrust in, unraveling a special spot deep inside of you that had you mewling like some primitive beast.

The fifth time he had you writhing in bed, hair stuck to your head with sweat and hands clenching the sheets while he had you peak three times in a row.

It was then that you started to think your aunt was right.

That was indeed the good part.

“Are you afraid?” he asks, with a soft taunt on the tip of his tongue. You drag your eyes away from the gigantic beast before you and almost scoff. That is enough for him to laugh, quietly, but still not quietly enough for you to not notice and wonder at the view.

It’s been merely one moon since you’ve been married to Prince Aemond, and you could count on the fingers of your hand the times you have seen him laugh. It was eerie at first, you feared all the things you heard about the One Eyed Prince were true. That he was cold as stone and just as hard. And he was. But the more you spent time together, the more you were able to make cracks, and let light through.

“I’m equally afraid as any little mortal of right mind would be in front of the largest dragon in the known world, my dear husband.”

His lips stay quirked up, but his eye widens, as it always does when you call him that. He steps close to you, a few of his long strides are enough for him to tower over you, and the ground below your feet shifts.

“Come.” He says, taking your hand, “I promise she won’t eat you.” This time you deliberately glare at him, and he raises an eyebrow. “Do you need some other kind of persuasion to trust me? Perhaps like the one I used this morning?”

The early afternoon sun makes his face almost hurting to watch, or maybe it's just his bold gloating that makes his appearance so exhausting.

“That was not persuasion.” you remark, hiding the tinge of red on your cheeks “It was coercion.”

“Hmm. You didn’t seem so hostile when I made you come twice before breakfast.”

"I was hostile to the chance of the maid assisting with what we were doing."

"The maid should know better than to enter while my wife is undressing."

His eye roams over you just as he had done that morning, hunger clouding it, making your insides shrink. "Perhaps it's best if she knew. Someone must be aware of how cruel my husband is." there's a soft tease in your tone—something you are still learning, but true nonetheless.

He had ripped your nightgown with his bare hands when the maid entered to help you dress. She fled hastily, but you barely spared a glance at her, already lost to the fierce claim of his hand between your legs. He had taken you, twice, and then ordered you to dress, forcing you to have breakfast with the Queen and the Princess with your thighs still sticky with sex, sticky with him.

And he had been there, sitting just in front of you, with a piercing and delighted gaze.

He pulls your hand, and you follow, getting closer to that living relic that is Vhagar, Queen of All Dragons. She raises her monstrous head and looks straight at you with her amber eyes.

It is the first time you step so close to her, and even if you thought about it a lot, your heart is pounding fast, and your breath comes out slow and labored. She's a dreadful wonder.

She flares her nostrils and smells you, making a low rumble which results in a gust of hot wind that ruffles your hair and skirts.

“Lykirī, Vhagar.” Aemond says quietly “Issa ñuha ābrazȳrys. Kostā pāsagon zirȳla.”

You look at him questioningly, and he answers. “I told her you are my wife. And she can trust you.”

You cast a curious look at the dragon and then back at him “Is that all it takes? You tell dragons to trust you, and they resist the urge to turn you into their meal?”

Aemond curves his lips and makes you step closer, standing behind you and guiding your hand on the old green scales. “It takes much more than that.” he whispers in your ear “You have to surrender to them, completely. A dragon is no slave.”

You feel the heat beneath your palm, but it’s not that that makes you swallow; it’s the heat of his breath on your neck, right into your ear, scorching his way into your brain and inflaming every thought.

“What does Lykirī mean?” you ask, and you hate how your voice cracks on the edges.

He smirks because he knows, he always does. But he does not answer. Instead, he pulls your hand again, and you follow, circling the beast until stopping before the intricate ropes that lead to the saddle.

“Aemond, I don’t think—”

“You are my wife and you will ride with me on dragon back.” He said, commanding.

Truthfully, you gladly want to obey; there is just a slight difference between picturing riding a dragon and doing it.

Even the climbing to get in the saddle is a challenge on its own, but he helps you until you firmly seat yourself in it. Aemond sits behind you, and you look around with widened eyes, as if you are looking down from the highest tower ever built, except this is a living one, made of fire and breathing fire.

He leans over you to grab the reins, and you tense, waiting with bathed breath.

“Dohaeras, Vhagar. Soves!”

She lets out a loud screech that makes your ears hurt, but you have no time to even register it because she's already moving. You grip Aemond’s arms and brace yourself against his chest when Vhagar lurches onward and opens her huge wings to take flight.

She goes up and up, above the clouds, and your head is dizzy, with fear, with euphoria, until you are laughing like a child, like you never did in your entire life. Aemond lets go of the reins and laces his arms around you, angling his head to look at you, his silver hair violently ruffled by the wind. “How does it feel, my sweet wife?”

There are no common words to describe it. Now you know why they say Targaryens are closer to Gods than men. No man could claim a dragon or rule the skies.

“I feel like I’m close to the Gods.” you say, and he tightens the hold on you “Dragons do not answer to Gods.” he says, burying his nose in your hair “Where does this leave us?”

You turn your head to look at him, and you feel like you are looking at one of them. And yet he looks like he’s beyond any God.

“Above them. Above the Gods.”

“Hmm.” He croons, breathing your scent through his nose, and then his right hand grabs your skirt and dips underneath, until you feel his cold fingers grazing your skin. “I will make you feel like one.”

He cups your core through your small clothes, and you whimper, gripping his arm harder. He feels your heat through his palm, hotter than Vhagar’s own fire, and he sets the fabric aside to properly touch you. “My sweet wife.” he whispers, sliding a finger between your folds “Always so ready for me.”

“Aemond.” You say, holding your breath, trying to oppose but your voice cracks, and your body with it, already answering to his call. You see clouds before your eyes, but it’s all a blur, all your senses are enslaved by his touch, rubbing lazy circles on your bud. Too slow for your liking, for your need. Your hips arch and buck, chasing his hand for more friction, and he laughs, darkly. “What is it? What do you need, sweet girl? Tell me.”

He takes your chin with his free hand and forces you to turn your head and look at him. His hold is ruthless, but his tone is almost pleading. “Tell me.” he orders and you feel like he’s smothering you, sweeping away all the air from your lungs. “I-I need more…”

“More of what?” he asks, stopping altogether. “Show me.”

You look him in the eye and swallow, heat inflaming your cheeks, but there’s no place for shame, not here. It is just a faint ghost passing through you, and then it’s gone. Your hand pulls the gown up, and you place it on his, like a feather. “Here.” You breathe on his mouth “Inside.”

The howling wind does nothing to muffle his growl, and then he’s kissing you, harshly, teeth clashing and biting your lips as he accepts your plea, sliding a finger inside of you.

A strangled moan escapes you, and he swallows it, darting his tongue in every corner of your mouth. He releases your chin only to grab your leg to further open them and then he adds a second finger, moving them deftly until reaching that special spot. Your head falls back on his shoulder, gasping loudly, digging your nails into his hand.

Your breath is ragged and fast, and you uselessly try to stifle moan after moan even if there are only the skies to hear.

“Don’t.” he says grazing your lobe with his teeth “I want to hear you. I want you to scream for me.”

Your mind goes blank, as does all your restraint. You feel the tide coming to crash you, hips moving on their own accord, chasing and chasing. And then you’re drowning in it, mouth falling open and flesh and bones clenching and trembling.

He grunts softly when your nails scratch his skin and his fingers slip out, glistening; he raises them to his lips and tastes every drop of you. Still panting, he takes your chin once more with his sticky fingers and licks your lips, so you taste yourself on his tongue.

Your head is still dizzy when Vhagar lands in a clearing in the King’s Wood, but this has nothing to do with altitude. Your limbs are heavy when he helps you dismount, your legs buckle. There is a tautness knotting your bones, itching your fingertips.

You wish to touch him, because you have never, not as a wife would touch her husband, not as he has done with you.

It is only a moon and yet he has taken you almost every night and every day. He has touched you everywhere, he has molded you to his liking, and you let him do it with giddiness, undoing yourself like clay in his hands. He had put his mouth on you, and you have discovered he particularly enjoyed it, because he has done that at the most inopportune times, even in some dark corner of the corridors.

And you wondered if you could do the same with him—not because you have to, but because you want to. You want to claim him just as he claims you, relentlessly.

And he really is. He is relentless, he doesn't give you the time to wander with your hands, to discover, to touch. Fire burns him quickly and you are ashes before you realise you are burning with him.

“I didn’t know my wife had claws.” He says at one point, while you are going back to the Keep.

You wake from your thoughts and turn, watching him raise his hand to show the red marks on the back of his hand, and the sight makes you almost proud—proud to have left a mark of you on him. But you want more, and he wants more. You know it; it takes a brief look at his breeches to know that he wants more.

You dart your eyes around, but there's no one. So, you stop. Trying to gather all the boldness you never had, you step closer to him and take his hand in yours. Your eyes look up slowly, glinting with uncertainty and bravery. "Then let me soothe your pain, husband."

Aemond’s eye widens, and the air around you turn heavy, forcing you to open your mouth to breathe. You take one more step and bring the back of his hand to your lips, kissing it gently while your eyes stay fixed on his face. The other hand goes tentatively to his chest and then slides down, and for once, just once, he’s the one answering your call. His eye darkens and his lips part when your hands bashfully grab the laces of his breeches.

But you should have known better. Targaryens and their desires. Doomed to take whatever they want, whenever they want, answering neither Gods nor men.

You barely blink and he grabs you by the wrists and forces you to the ground. Cold grass and bushes stinging your back make you gasp, but Aemond is already on you, watching you like a century-long thirsted man who takes a glimpse of a water spring, as if you could evaporate from his sight at any moment.

“Aemond, please.” you beg “let me—“

But his tongue is in your mouth, hot and scorching you alive. Your eyes flutter shut, and he hikes your skirts up, taking hold of your hips. You feel his bulge against you, hard and ready, and you can do nothing else than wait, pinned down like prey, all bravery a distant memory.

Suddenly he lowers himself down, lifting your skirts with haste until you’re completely bare half down. “No—Aemond, please I want to—”

“You want what?” he asks with a wolfish grin “Deny me your sweet taste? Iksā ñuhon, ābrazȳrys.” He said that already, you know what it means. You are mine.

“You belong to me. And this…” he swears placing your legs on his shoulders while looking at your aching core as a man who found the greatest treasure in the world. “This belongs to me as well.”

He runs his tongue up and down your wet folds, humming with delight as he tastes you and sees you squirm, arching your back on the stingy bushes. You moan loudly when he slowly swirls his tongue, not able to keep track of your hips starting to move on their own, thrusting into his mouth and the sight of you like this, makes him even wilder, pushing him to open his mouth and put it entirely on your cunt, sucking harshly until anything before your eyes becomes blurred.

Your legs on his shoulders begin to shake and curl, caging him further against you, but just when you are about to come straight into his mouth, he pulls back. A weak sob leaves your mouth as your hips keep bucking against nothing and he smirks at that, untangling your legs from his shoulders, running his tongue over his lips, to taste what's left of you on him. You look at him through dazed eyes and a tinge of annoyance for the denied release. “What?” he has the boldness to ask with a sly smirk “Did you not enjoy it?” he runs his thumb on his glistening chin and swiftly licks it. "Hmm. I most certainly did."

“Aemond, please.” you claw desperately at his shoulders and forearms, forcing him to lie on you, feel something that could soothe the aching between your legs. He seems keen to grant you this mercy, molding his crotch against you so you can feel how hard and desperate he is.

“Please.” you beg in a thin voice.

“Speak it plainly, my love. I want to hear it from your pretty mouth.”

You look at him straight in the eye and what you say next is not a request nor a plea. Your mother would be ashamed of you, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

You are not begging. You are demanding. “Fuck me.”

He doesn’t need more than a few moments to get his cock out of his breeches, and not a moment later he’s pushing inside of you, your back arching on the bushes and your throat fighting for breath. He groans and starts a relentless pace, lifting his weight from you just enough for him to look at his cock going in and out, the sight only pushing him to thrust harder and harder. “Look at you.” he croons, sweet and rough “You were born to take me, to be mine.”

Your face twists with pleasure, teeth biting your lower lip while he takes you higher and higher, higher than any sky a dragon could ever take you.

He soon becomes messy and sloppy, cursing under his breath, but you can barely hear him. Your mind is sluggish and everything comes muffled: him, the birds chirping on some tree, your wet flesh slapping against his in the lewdest and most blessed way.

He curses some more, and then he’s spilling inside you, his arched mouth opening and his eye closing like a man absolved.

And yet, he does not stop. He has not claimed enough.

“Māzis, dōna ābrazȳrys. Come for me.”

Your hand clutches something on the ground, something with thorns that pierces your skin with pain, but you can’t even feel that, because you are falling, legs trembling around him, and heart stopping for an endless moment of pure breathtaking bliss.

“Gevie.” he coos with his lips on yours, falling with his body on you, still clenching and pulsing around him. He stays right where he is, nesting inside of you, and now it is the only chance you have been granted to touch him. You put an arm around his shoulders, catching your breath, and look at the skies above, thinking you are indeed above them.

It was easy to explain the dirt and grass stains on your dress. It was a little less easy to explain the twigs in your ruffled hair when you and Aemond returned to the Keep only to meet the Queen Mother along one of the corridors. Alicent merely smiled at you with a tight smile and did not spare from giving a look full of daggers to her son.

"Seven Hells" you mutter when you go back to your rooms and catch a glimpse of the mess you are in the mirror.

Aemond stays on the threshold to close the door and grins, or rather, gloats.

You step out of your muddy shoes and start to pull the laces of your dress.

"What are you doing?" he asks, and you playfully glare at him. "Am I allowed to take a bath now? Or do you want me to go around all sullied? I fear there are no believable excuses for the state I’m in."

"You can tell them the truth." he says, walking to you and replacing your hands with his to help you pull the intricate laces.

You smile softly with your back turned before raising an eyebrow, asking "Which is?"

He keeps his eye focused on the dress, a slight furrow in his brow, and stoically serious, he says "That your husband fucked you in the King's Wood."

"I could tell the maid. I'm sure she won't be stunned after what she saw this morning."

He makes you turn so you can look at him, and the sight before you makes your heart sing. His eye roams on your face softly, a rare sight on him, always stoic, always sharp, like all the angles composing this beautiful sculpture of black glass.

You always thought of marriage as a strategic deal for men, and a way for women to prove their value to the world, giving those same men sons and daughters. But you care for him. And he cares for you. That look on his face is enough for you to know that he cares for you, not merely as a brood mare.

“Gevie.” he says, quietly, and he touches your cheek, softly, making you wonder how those same hands can be so delicate and yet so merciless at the same time.

“What does it mean?” you ask, even if you are sure he will not answer. You observed that when he speaks in High Valyrian he does it almost to himself, as if to protect something he does not wish the others to know.

But this time, he meets your eyes and lowers his hand. “Beautiful.”

You look at him with your heart pounding in your throat, and then you stand up on your toes, crashing your mouth against his, almost catching him by surprise. But he is all too deft at turning the game on his side, and a few seconds later, his hands are gripping your hips and his tongue is licking the roof of your mouth.

When the door suddenly opens, you pull back, spotting the same maid from that morning who, this time, can do nothing but suffer the Prince's wrath.

"Can't you just fuck off for once?!"

You hold back a laugh against his chest and the poor maid flees in a hurry. But when he pulls you to him, tilting his head to pick up where he left off, you step back and say, "I'm afraid the Queen has requested your presence. You should go, my dear husband. I promise that by tonight I will be completely clean."

"Tonight?" he asks, raising his eyebrow. "What is happening tonight?"

You shrug your shoulders and hold back a smile. "Innocence doesn't suit you, my Prince."

"Neither does you."

"I'm afraid this is your fault. You are sullying my soul as well as...everything else."

"You won't be of the same mind when you have my child growing in your womb," and he smirks, looking at you as if he's taking a sacred oath, and then walks away.

You finally manage to take a bath and change clothes, and then you go to visit your aunt. She spends most of her time alone, sipping tea in the gardens, partly because she can't stand the other court ladies, partly because the court ladies can't stand her. Truthfully, you cannot blame them, your aunt speaks plainly—too plainly at times.

You sit down with her for tea, which you end up swallowing like salt, because your aunt takes it with a whole squeezed lemon, and no sugar.

"I saw you with your husband earlier. I may be too old for new fashion but mud on your skirt and twigs in your hair seem a bit too brazen, even for me."

You stifle a smile, recalling what happened. If only she knew he was brazen enough to have you utterly undone on dragon back, thousands of feet up.

Your eyes go distant while you fumble with some tablecloth threads, but your Aunt stares at you piercely, and grabbing her cup of tea she says "I love that look on you."

"What?"

She sips the sour liquid and puts the cup down. "That look. The I'm in love look."

"I am not!" you counter, cheeks going red.

"Of course you are. I've watched you two. I dare say he's falling way faster than you."

You look at her puzzled. Many things have changed in a moon. And you are sure you are utterly infatuated with him. But you did not know what to think of what he actually feels for you, if he even feels something. You know he cares for you, you know he loves spending time with you. You know he's passionate, possessive, almost soft at rare times. But in love? That seems too soon to consider, or to hope for.

"It is too soon to talk about love."

"In fact, I did not, my sweet niece. Falling in love and love are beasts of different species. Why do you think we say "falling"? You can't stop from falling. To love a person is an entirely different matter. Love is a choice."

You let those words sink but you prefer not to question your heart right now. There is a reason you have come here to talk to your aunt, even if you don't know how to address the matter without melting from embarrassment.

But in the end, who could you ask for advice? Your squeamish maids? The Queen Mother? Definitely not.

"Listen, I...I wanted to ask you something..." you start "It is uhm...a matter of somewhat intimate nature."

"Ah, my favourites." your aunt says, beaming "I am all ears."

You shift uncomfortably in your chair and swallow another sip of that dreadful tea "My mother...she explained to me what would happen between husband and wife to...consummate the marriage. But she didn't tell me...well, everything else."

Your Aunt is quick to raise her eyebrow "I gathered that your marriage had been consummated by now. Thoroughly."

"Y-yes, of course. But I...discovered...that there are other ways for a husband to please his wife...and I was wondering if...if I could…do those same things to please him."

Your aunt looks utterly puzzled for a long moment, and then, almost stunned, she says "Oh Seven Hells, child. You are telling me you never sucked your husband off?"

A few court ladies walking near turned their heads, going white as sheets, while you, on the contrary, take a nice purple shade.

"Oh, don't look at me like that, prissies. We all did it eventually." she dismisses them, waving a lazy hand, and looks back at you. "You should do it, if you wish. Men love it. Your uncle used to ask—"

"I don't want to hear that, auntie, I'm begging you." you say squinting your eyes.

"Listen to me, child. Men love to think they rule everything, everywhere. But it is not always like that. And if you want to rule your husband's heart, you must rule in his bed first."

That evening, Aemond wanted nothing more than to lock himself in his room with his wife and forget all the hateful political talk he had had to endure at dinner.

You had not attended, and that had bothered him. Never would he have thought of marriage as anything more than a duty, yet there he was, wondering where you were, who you were with, and why you weren't in his rooms when he set foot in there.

"Where is my wife?" he asks the maid, and she keeps her eyes glued to the floor, saying "The princess spent the evening in the library, your Grace. She told me that she would be—"

"I am here," you say, appearing behind the young maid.

You see his chest sag as if a weight is leaving him, and he casts an icy glance at the poor maid "Out."

He is rarely kind to servants, but you can tell by his tense shoulders that something is wrong.

"Aemond, what is the matter?" you ask as soon as the door closes, walking up to him with a hand behind your back.

"Where were you? Why weren't you at dinner?"

"I was in the library."

"For four hours?"

"It was a tough read—"

He grabs your arm, gripping hour wrist harshly, and you flinch. "Aemond, I swear to you.” you say watching his eye on fire and a sneer twisting his mouth “You can ask Maester Mellos."

Suddenly he lets you go, and looks down, closing his eye for a moment. But he doesn't apologize, he never does, and not because he is a Prince. It's just the way he is. He doesn't apologize, he doesn't say thank you, he doesn't say please.

"Aemond, what's going on?"

"I don't want to talk about it now. In fact, never. Not here."

You watch him carefully, and you nod as he moves to pour wine into a cup. You watch him gobble it up greedily, which is unlike him. So, you get close and move your hand from behind your back and say, "Anyway, I wasn't lying. I really spent four hours in the library...trying to decipher this."

You show him an old book, and the title catches his eye, cup held in midair. "Tales of the Dragonlords?" he asks frowning. "This is in High Valyrian."

"It is." you confirm as you move closer, and you steal his cup before saying, "Would you read it to me?" and you take a sip, of wine and courage.

He watches the liquid flow down your throat and then accepts the invitation, taking the book—the one he has read so many times he can recite it by heart. He opens it to the first page, but you say "No. Page 72."

There is a slight imperative tone in your tone of voice, and it thrills him, given how his eye glints under the candlelight. He drops it on the table, looking at you from head to toe, and says, "I'll read it to you later, sweet wife."

He steps closer but you back away saying, "Fine, then. I'll tell you what I understood so you can correct me or not." and at the same moment your own hands go up on your corset and you start pulling on the laces.

The gesture catches his eye like a moth to a flame and he stays silent as you pull all the laces and then slip off your dress, remaining in your underskirt. His gaze roams over you slowly, and with a soft smirk, he decides to play the game.

“Page 72, you said. How Dragonlords claimed Dragons.”

“Yes.”

"And why did it capture your interest? Do you wish to do it? Do you wish to claim a dragon?"

"I wish to conquer, not claim."

He comes closer and looks at you, breathing through his nose, restraining, always restraining, and then he's raising his hand to reach a lock of your hair falling on your shoulder, but you stop him, air as heavy as moss.

"The Valyrian sages say a dragonlord must surrender himself completely to the dragon. But it works both ways. The dragon must submit his will to their rider."

He looks at you without blinking, and you take his arms, guiding him closer until you turn and push him lightly on the bed. He sits and you slowly climb on his lap, knees caging his hips, heart is pounding in your throat like a hammer. You hear him taking a swift breath and pride pools in your bones because for once you have caught him off guard.

You can feel his crotch hardening by the moment, but the look on his face is not one of hunger or lust. It is pure and blessed devotion.

You wonder at the view, and your eyes roam on his face until...

"Can I take it off?"

There's no need to say what. His face goes hard as stone, eye looking away with discomfort, with shame.

"Please, Aemond." you whisper. "I want to see all of you. I want you to bare yourself to me as I did to you."

"It is not pleasant."

"I don't want pleasantness. I want you."

He stares at you for an eternal moment and then he caves.

A flash of sparkling blue catches you completely and you can do nothing but watch with lips parted, while he keeps his eye down.

You wrap an arm around his shoulders and lean your head against his to breathe one single word in his ear. "Gevie."

His arms are all around you, holding you so tight you might gasp for air. Instead you are smiling, breathing through his long silver hair. You are not sure if you aunt is right, if love is indeed a choice. You can't bring yourself to care because you are doing it already.

And then he's kissing you, seizing your tongue with his in a fierce consuming way. He slightly hikes up your hips, and his hand tries to slide between your legs, but you lace your fingers around his wrist, breaking the kiss with panted breath.

"No." you whisper, and he looks at you almost questioningly, mouth open and chest heaving.

"Lykirī."

His eye widens and you smile, secretly. "I know what it means now."

He smirks at this and does not miss the chance to be the ever diligent scholar. "But you said it wrong. The R is hard."

“Lykirī.” You say again, following his lesson, and in the same moment your hand leaves his wrist and goes down to his breeches. He dips his chin to look at it, at your hands unsure, and he too looks unsure.

“You don’t have to—“

“I want to.” You say, and your voice comes out firm and clear. “Please, Aemond. Let me…let me touch you.”

He realizes now that in all the times you have been lying together, you never managed to lay a hand on him. He likes to keep people at distance. Too many wrong hands have been on him. The Maesters’, inspecting, debating, healing without healing. That whore, taking what it was not hers to take, not yet.

But he wants you to touch him. He has dreamed of it, in any way a man could dream of a woman’s touch.

He looks at you for a moment, chest rising slowly, and then, without taking his eye off you, he pulls the laces of his breeches and guides your hand around his cock. You look down, exhaling a long breath at feeling his hard and hot flesh already pulsing.

He knows you don’t know how to do it, so his hands guide you at first, going slowly up and down, and the air comes out of his mouth slowly and labored. You look up at him, his eye is pitch black, lid growing heavy with pleasure, and your core clenches, desire pools in your belly and flows down.

He must hear the call of your body, because he releases your hand, still stroking him, and goes right between your legs. You gasp loudly, and he hums, delight dripping from his voice just as you are dripping on his fingers. He starts to pump his fingers and you can do nothing but moan, clutching his shoulders with your free hand, the other still around his cock, but the act is growing lazy, your mind can’t focus properly on what you are supposed to do.

“Listen.” he orders you, fingers moving faster and faster, and you do listen. Your soaked flesh coming undone at his scorching touch. “Who else has you like this?”

But this is a question he’s asking himself. Because no one else will ever have him bare like this.

“You. Just you.” you say hoarsely, eyes closing and hips rocking on their own accord.

“And who am I?” he whispers just as hoarsely, and yet his voice is like a whip on all your senses.

“My husband.” you cry, feeling the wave ready to drown you “Ñuha zaldrīzes.” My dragon.

You cannot care less about how you said it, because then your mouth falls open, nails digging into his shoulder while your trembling hips keep riding his fingers, clenching them like a vice.

Your head falls onward, leaning against his forehead, and you try to catch your breath. You watch his wet fingers go straight into his mouth while he looks at you, humming with pleasure. “You look so pretty like this.” he says with the ghost of a smile on his lips “I should fuck you in Throne Room with the whole court watching, so they know how pretty you are when you come for me.”

You laugh with your cheeks flushing, and he slides an arm around you, and you know he wants to pin you down on the bed and fuck you until you are muffling nonsense in the pillow. But this is not his game. This is yours, and even if you don’t know how to play, you will win.

“No.” you say, climbing down from his lap, and he looks at you with hunger and a tinge of thrilling curiosity. “It is my turn to claim.” You say with all the bravery you possess.

Not a moment later, you are going down on your knees.

Another small victory, because his eye widens as he had never done before, and you can see that this, the sight of you on your knees before him, is something he has been craving for, even dreamed of it.

His breathing is slow, and you are not even touching him.

You place yourself between his knees and you lean closer and closer, anxiety twisting your insides, but you want to do this. “Lykirī, nuha zaldrīzes. Surrender.” you take him into your hand, tugging slowly, and your lips linger on the tip, heart pounding in your ears and eyes fixed on him. “Lykirī.” You say one last time and then you are swallowing him.

He hisses loudly and his lips part, hands clutching the covers until his knuckles go white. He’s like burning metal inside your mouth—hot and hard. At first, you just taste him, running your tongue over the head, and he’s cursing under his breath. His hands twitch on the covers, restraining and restraining, but there’s no need. You take his hand while looking at him and you release it from your mouth to say “Teach me.”

It’s like you have just poured fire on more fire. His eye goes wild, he takes hold of your head and starts to guide you again, making your mouth engulf him once more and deep down to the base and then up to the tip again, filling the room with a wet gagging sound. You get the gist of what you’re supposed to do, so your head starts going up and down and up and down, and he actually moans for you, head falling back for just a moment before looking back, he can’t help but watch as you fiercely claim him.

You watch his chest heaving fast and your jaw is starting to hurt but you don't care, you are too absorbed by the view before you. You are too thrilled by the fact that, for once, you have made him speechless.

He's always so bold in the bedroom, so cruel in deciding when and how to give pleasure, and now he's utterly speechless. He can only curse without breath, and gasp and groan.

“Kelītīs.” he manages to say at one point, voice all husky and cracking. You don’t know that word, and you have no time to ask because in a blink, he’s slamming you onto the bed and he’s hiking up your skirt, but you get on your elbows pushing him on his back and climbing on him.

“I’m not done, valzȳrys.” you say feeling his hard length inflaming your core, so you lay your hips on it as firmly as possible. “I claimed, but I did not conquer.”

“You are fucking torturing me.” he points out, bucking against you.

“Conquests could last for centuries, dear husband. You above all should know that.”

“All I know now is that I need to fuck you.” he says placing both hands on the sheets to pull himself up.

“No, I will.” you promise, rocking your hips once more “This is my conquest, not yours.”

You keep rubbing your drenched core on his length until a sheen of sweat glistens on his forehead, and he's so hard he's leaking from the tip. "You are twisted, wife." he says with a dazed tone and you smile even if you can't take it anymore, but you rock some more, saying "I'm a quick study. And I'm learning from the best."

Finally, when you are so wet you are dripping on him, you raise just enough to slide his cock inside of you.

You gasp together and you brace on his shoulders to start moving. You both know you are not going to last long, so you start rocking your hips slowly, taking him to the hilt until you struggle for air.

“Move…” he orders but you just take the opposite road, slowing your hips in a delicious torturing way. “Do you know what else the Sages said? A rider must know their mount, feel their heat below them.”

But Aemond does not have a single drop of blood in his head right now to give you an answer, let alone play your game; he's just fire that burns and burns and burns and just like the Sages said, you can feel his heat, burning below and inside you. He grips your hips and starts to thrust inside you like the wild beast you are supposedly claiming, until you are moaning so loud your throat hurts.

“Yes—” he growls as you bounce on him “Just like that—you’re gripping me so well—fuck"

You both turn sloppy, a mess of sweaty limbs and teeth biting, clutching at each other with bruising grips, pulling at the roots of his hair when you’re about to fall from the highest sky.

"Come on, my sweet girl. Let go for me." he breathes into your mouth, forcing you to move even faster "Let go fro your dragon. Seal your conquest." And you do.

He follows right after, spilling inside while digging his teeth into your neck like fangs on a prey, muffling his loud groaning.

And you are smiling like a fool, a lovestruck fool, but most of all, a conqueror.

Thank you so much for reading!! 💞💞

#likiri #liv(in la vida loca)#aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #aemond x wife reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x wife reader #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x you #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond fic #aemond smut #hotd fic

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ghostedcas · 7 months

Note

imagine like simon goes into some sort of surgery and has to be put under anesthesia, and when he gets out hes like still high asf on it 💀 and hes being a lil silly goose

okay this is such a cute idea omg, this is 100% based off that tiktok audio where it's like "my wife wouldn't like you touching me like that" "i AM your wife."

thank you so much for the request nonnie, a forehead kiss for you MWAH MWAH

simon 'ghost' riley x reader

wc: 563

warnings: none really, lots and lots of that good ol fluff, mentions of surgery, goofy simon, maybe a little ooc simon (he's high so it's fine)

a/n: i hope this is okay, i'm feeling a bit rusty with my writing but i've finally got back some motivation and energy to do so after the past two months of low energy and bad mental health. if you guys want to know a bit more about it and my mental health (i don't see why anyone would but lmao) let me know, i don't mind making a post about it if you guys want an explanation of some sort or whatever. anywho, sorry this is so short but i hope you still like it!! <3

a/n 2.0: i recently applied for a part time job at a bookstore so y'all pray for me that i get this job because i want it so bad. i am just gonna decide that i WILL get this job, because why wouldn't i?

simon had been out of surgery for just over an hour now, being a soldier you 'd think perhaps he was going under surgery for some kind of wound he had inflicted upon him on the battlefield but no, he was just getting his tonsils removed after a bad bout of tonsillitis ended up with him developing really bad tonsil stones.

so here you were, waiting by his bedside for him to wake up. the doctor and nurses reminded you just as he had gotten out that he may still be a little, well loopy, off of the meds depending on how quickly he woke up. you waited in a chair at his bedside, reading a book when you heard the blankets of the bed rustling just a little.

looking up from your book you see simon starting to wake up and you reach out to grasp his hand, only for him to rip it away from you when his eyes were fully opened.

"uh, si? you okay, hon?" you ask gently, maybe he just wasn't feeling too well after waking up, or perhaps he wasn't wanting physical touch, that happened quite often and you always respected that space he may want when he wanted it.

"don't call me that." simon said, voice hoarse and scratchy from the surgery, he sounded a little angry.

"what?" you questioned, this wasn't like simon, you couldn't understand why he wouldn't want you speaking like this to him.

"i'm taken."

"i know." you replied with a short laugh.

"you should be touching me like that then."

it hit you then, he was woozy from the meds and didn't recognize you. the realization made you laugh a little more. you decided to have a bit of fun with this high version of your boyfriend.

"sorry about that simon. wanna tell me about your partner?"

"oh, (name)? they're amazing, you know they're so pretty. and they're funny too. they always know how to make me feel better, i miss them." simon replies, ranting and raving on and on to you about his partner, about you.

"you love them a lot, don't you?" you ask him with a smile, it felt so nice to hear all these lovely things about yourself, your boyfriend clearly unfiltered by the effects of the anesthesia he was under.

sure he definitely said sweet things to your face, but something about hearing it when he was basically high as shit made your heart pound a little more.

"i love them with my whole heart." simon replies, a goofy little smile on his face.

you can't help but reach out to gently caress his face at those words, body filling up with some much adoration for the soldier in front of you.

"hey! what did i say about touching me. i have a partner!" simon scolds, trying to dodge your touch.

"simon, love... i am your partner. it's me, (name)." you reply with a laugh.

simon takes a good long look at you when you tell him this, he stares at you, looks you up and down before letting out a soft and quiet "oh."

you begin to hear the beeping of his heart rate monitor speed up, his cheeks turning slightly pink as he stares up at you.

you couldn't help but laugh a little more at this. what a sweet idiot. your sweet idiot.

#ghostedcas #casper writes #casper's 💌#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley fluff #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x reader fluff #ghost riley x reader

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veltana · 24 days

Text

Unleashed - Avengers!Bucky/Fem!Reader

✦ Pairing: Avengers!Bucky Barnes/Fem!Reader

✦ Word count: ~4,2k

✦ Rating: Explicit

✦ Warnings/tags: Sex pollen adjacent kinda, smut, a bit fluffy, one shot, possessive!Bucky, co-workers/friends to lovers, oral sex (fem receiving), unprotected sex, vaginal sex, multiple orgasms, forced orgasms, orgasm denial, dirty talk, praise, creampie, pet names (doll).

✦ Summary: During a mission, Bucky is exposed to something that removes his inhibitions and all he wants is you.

✦ Note: Previously posted on AO3 since I have basically no time or energy to write new stuff. It was titled You’re what I need before but I always hated that title so I decided to re-name it. Bucky is kind of an asshole in this, but it's just because he wants you! As always, reblogs, comments, and asks are very welcome ❤️

Masterlist | AO3

The worst part about watching from afar as a mission goes to shit is that you feel useless. Even as you dispatch medics for the team all you can do is tell them, "Help is on the way."

Captain America shouts orders that you hear through the comms. The wait feels endless until the crew of the quinjet declares that they have spotted the team and there's not much else for you to do but look at your monitors and wait for an update. When you get the call back that the team is secure you breathe a sigh of relief, but then the next message is to prepare the medical staff to receive multiple injuries and chemical exposure. You ask the crew to clarify, but they are too busy, so when you notify the medical center, they prepare a quarantine room.

Sometimes you wish you had a superpower and could be there with them instead of staring at your monitors and doing endless calculations on whatever the team needs. But then when they return they always compliment your work and tell you they don’t know how they managed without you. You try to remind yourself of those moments at times like this.

Once the quinjet is docked and everyone has been accounted for you push away from your desk and remove your headset, taking deep breaths and trying to calm your heart. A moment later a message pops up on your screen, probably because they couldn’t reach you through your comms. [Bucky wants you to come down here]

Your heart does a little flip in your chest, making you scowl. He is your friend and probably injured, you have no idea why he would be asking for you, but it’s not because he feels the same way you do. You grab your tablet and head to the MedBay.

When you get down you take stock of the situation. Nat and Steve have some scratches, Sam's arm is broken and Wanda has a few cracked ribs. Tony is bruised, his suit had taken most of the damage. You look around for Bucky but don’t see him anywhere and quickly deduce that he must be the person currently in quarantine.

When you get to the wing, you’re almost too scared to go in, afraid to see what could have happened to him. Inside, you find a team of medical personnel discussing Bucky's condition with him through a glass wall. His hair looks damp and he's wearing standard-issue quarantine clothing, soft black pants, and a black sweatshirt. When he sees you standing patiently at the side he says. "You can come back later. I need to talk to her more than I need to talk to you. Go away." His voice comes from speakers in the ceiling.

You're shocked by his behavior but smile apologetically as the white coats pass you on their way out. When you get up to the glass you hiss. "Bucky, what is wrong with you, don't be rude.” "You make it sound like I'm never rude otherwise," he laughs. "You're not rude to healthcare professionals, you know better." You glare at him as you wake your tablet. “Now what did you need me for?”

"Do you like me?" he asks. Your mouth falls open and your heart starts to beat faster. You’re happy your vitals aren’t monitored as you quickly collect yourself and try to deflect his question. "Of course I like you Bucky, you're my friend." But now it feels weird to look at him and you find a spot on the wall far behind him to focus on.

"What if I want more than friends?" is his next question and despite your best efforts, hope warms your chest. This is not happening. Of course you toyed with the idea of you and Bucky, he is always sweet to you, and if he has the chance he brings you gifts from the missions. But you’ve told yourself repeatedly that he needs someone stronger, who can keep up with him in the field and you’re not that person.

"Can we have this conversation when you are not high on some HYDRA drug?” you ask, trying to keep your voice from betraying you. They are monitoring everything in the room. And there is a sheet of unbreakable glass in between you both. If you're going to confess your feelings, it won't be like this.

"I'm not high," he huffs. "My mind has never been clearer." "I still think we should have this conversation later." "Doll, look at me." The command in his voice is so strong you don’t think, you snap your eyes to his and they are so blue and soft.

"I will feel the same tomorrow, and the day after, whenever this drug wears off but now is the only time I can't hold my tongue," he explains. You place your hand on the glass and he does the same on the other side. "It will be fine Bucky, I promise," you say just as the door opens and Steve walks in, making you pull your hand back to your side. He's showered, in a fresh pair of clothes and he swings his arm over your shoulder.

"Stop hogging her time Bucky, I know for a fact that she also needs to debrief," he smiles but Bucky looks as if he's seeing red. Through gritted teeth he presses out, "Get your fucking arm off her, punk. She's mine."

You and Steve burst into laughter because it has to be a joke, but then Bucky punches the barrier with his vibranium arm. The glass doesn't crack but both you and Steve stop short and step away in shock. Steve removes his arm and says, "I'll meet you upstairs." Before quickly heading out.

You turn to Bucky and point at him, anger rising in your chest. "What is wrong with you? Steve is your friend!" "That is what it’s like in here every day,” he points to his head. You're taken aback by his statement and his wide feral eyes. Clearly, whatever he was exposed to had messed with his head and he's not himself. “Bucky I need to go,” you tell him, and before he can protest you continue. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” You smile feebly at him and are out the door before he can say anything else.

After debriefing and having dinner you go to bed early. Your head is spinning with the day and most of all, Bucky.

It's way past midnight when you wake to the soft closing of your door. Since you always sleep with a night light the soft warm glow reflects off his left arm and leaves no doubt about who has entered your room. You blink at him but before you can ask a question he rasps out, pleading. "I need you. So bad. Please doll, help me." He moves closer to your bed.

You quickly remove your covers and get up, glad the giant t-shirt covers you to your thighs, ready to spring into action. "Anything Bucky, what do you need?" You stop an arm's length from him, but all he does is reach his hand out to cup your face, letting his thumb stroke your cheek. There is a wild look in his eyes but you keep calm. "I can't get you what you need if you don't tell me," you whisper, meeting his eyes and watching as his brow furrows.

"I need you. Right now. If I don't get to touch and taste every inch of your body I'm going to lose my mind," he confesses in a low voice. His words shock you and you hitch a breath. You’re not sure what you’re supposed to do. You have this great friendship. If things were different you would not have minded taking it to another level, but with the day in mind and the fact that he somehow got out of his containment room you say, "Bucky, you’re not yourself, you need to get back to-”

"Doll,” he interrupts with a hard voice. “For once, I feel more like myself than I have in a long time. The only thing the drug did, I think, was remove my inhibitions. For once I feel free. My mind isn't controlled by HYDRA or by fear that you'll reject me. All I know is that I crave you and I can't be quiet about it anymore.”

"Bucky… I…" your whole body is flushed with warmth from his words and you're not sure how to respond. "I dreamt about you and couldn't stop myself from going over here. I don't want to hurt you, doll, but I'm not sure this drug will let me leave. All I wanna do is move closer to you.” You swallow hard as he continues, thumb still stroking your cheek. “Ask FRIDAY to get Steve, or the Hulk if you want me to leave."

Instead, you step into him, making up your mind in an instant and resting your hands on his chest. "Stay, I'll be glad to help you with anything you need," you whisper honestly and by the way his eyes widen there was still some doubt in his mind that you would reject him.

Instead of saying anything his vibranium hand grasps your waist and pulls you closer. There is no escaping the smell and size of him and his hands on you got your pussy throbbing for him already.

"I hope you understand what you've agreed to," he whispers, leaning closer. "Once I have you I won't stop, you'll never be rid of me. I'll claim you against every surface of this fucking compound if I need to." That makes you whimper and press harder against him. "Fuck you'd like that huh? Are you a kinky little thing? Like getting fucked where people can see you and hear you moan, do you want people to see my hard dick spread you open?" "Fuck Bucky!" You exclaim and lean your forehead against his chest. Maybe that idea excites you or maybe it is just that the word ‘claim’ sounds so primal.

"You're going to tell me all your little secrets later, doll. But now, I'm going to take what's mine." And with that, he crushes his lips to yours. He backs you towards the bed, kissing you the whole time, letting his hands explore you. When you land on your back, he stands over you with eyes like a predator about to devour its prey.

You shuffle up until your head rests on the pillows, spreading your legs for him. Without taking off any clothes he crawls after you, settling on his knees between your legs and placing his hands on the headboard, crowding you with his large frame. "Mine," he whispers and it makes a shudder pass through you. He ruts his clothed cock against your core, slicking your underwear even more and making you whine, gripping the sheets under you.

"Yes," he almost hisses as the length of his dick presses on your clit and forces a mewl out of you. It's been a long time since you've gotten laid. "Bucky," you plead. "No doll, I'm going to enjoy every fucking second of claiming you, from the outside in. Did you think this would be hard and fast and that I would be gone before you knew what happened?"

He lets go of the headboard to put his elbows beside your head instead, his weight on you, pressing you down into the mattress. "When I leave you will long for me, spend every waking second wishing I was still inside you. I want your cunt to be permanently drenched so I can fuck you whenever I please." He kisses you forcefully and any coherent thought that was left in your head flees. "And when you're too sore to take more of my dick in your pussy I'm going to do the same thing to your mouth and ass."

He rids you off your t-shirt and instead of having to move from between your legs to pull off your underwear, he rips them apart. "Ah!" you exclaim when the force of his movements jolts you but he takes no notice, he just stares at you, letting his hands roam up and down your sides, up to your tits, cupping them and caressing your nipples with his thumbs.

Whimpers are coming from you with every pass of this touch. Then he moves down and lays on his stomach, not saying a word as he sweeps his tongue over your pussy before he starts devouring you with a throaty moan.

It doesn’t take long for the first orgasm to take you, his movements are precise and his words and actions have made you hornier than you’ve ever experienced. Or maybe it's because he is the hottest person you’ve ever laid eyes on and he only wants you.

When you’re finished and sensitive he dips his tongue into your hole to taste you and groans loudly, lapping up the wetness from your orgasm. "Better than I've dreamed of," he says when he pulls away. Now you’re the one that must be high because you can't help but giggle. "You seriously dream of me?" "All the time, doll. Every night when I go to bed I wish you were with me and then you plague my sleep with your soft curves and radiant smile."

You're about to tell him how his laugh makes you warm and fuzzy on the inside but at that moment he sucks your clit into his mouth, cutting out every thought in your brain. He's gentle but not hesitant, it's as if he's feeling you out and when you make a particularly loud sound he continues the same movement, making your whole body go hot.

The second orgasm is intense enough to send aftershocks through for a long while afterward. Bucky lays his head on your thigh as you tremble, caressing your skin and letting the fingers of his right hand skim over your opening.

Despite what he's already given you, you still crave more. His fingertips never come close to where you need them and when you whine at the back of your throat Bucky smiles up at you. "Don't worry, I'm not even close to done with you, but I don't want you to pass out on me.” One of his fingers glides inside, making you take a sharp breath just because it feels so good. Once again he is careful, moving slowly, listening to your breath and your body.

"Please Bucky, I need more.” "No need to beg, I'll give you everything you want… in time," he breathes and kisses the skin on the inside of your thigh. Slowly he moves his finger in and out. You're sure it's a form of torture. The sweetest kind there is. Your breathing is labored and when he finally adds a second, you start to quiver.

He nips at your skin and then kisses it before speaking. "You look like a goddess, doll, eyes filled with lust, your skin is gleaming. I'm going to worship you until you're tired of me.” "Never gonna happen," you whimper. Then his thumb lands on your clit, making you cry out. Everything is so sensitive and overstimulated.

"I don't- Bucky, I don't think I can again," you tell him even though his touches are causing your insides to melt. "Yes, you will," his voice is soft but the command is clear. So instead of trying to speak again, you sink further into the madness that is him playing with you. The third one takes its sweet time but you never feel rushed or stressed that it's taking too long. Bucky isn’t in a hurry.

Then it’s suddenly there, crashing through you. "Fuck Bucky, fuck you're gonna make me come." "So good for me, let me feel you come on my fingers," he urges. "I'm going to lick them clean afterward so make sure you get them nice and wet for me. I want as much as you'll give me." The climax reaches its peak and you come with a cry of his name, body convulsing and your hand shooting down to tangle in his hair.

"Just like that doll," he smiles up at you and holds your gaze when he pulls out his fingers and sucks them clean, moaning while he does. It's a filthy sound, but it turns you on as if he didn't just make you come for the third time. Then he dives in between your legs again, licking at your skin and your soaked hole. Letting go of his hair all you can do is just lie there, writhing, as he somehow coaxes a fourth orgasm out of you.

“Fuck me,” you plead when he pulls back. “I need you inside me Bucky.” This time he takes pity on you and moves away to take off his clothes. When he’s naked he kneels between your legs again and you spread them as wide as you can. "Want me, doll?" he asks with a smirk. He swipes his cock through your mess and then uses his hand to coat himself with you. "Yes," is all you can say. Both you and Bucky stare as he pushes his dick into you, filling you up completely. Of course, he takes it torturously slow this time too.

"This feels better than any dream I've ever had," he whispers almost in awe. You grip his biceps and arch into him, pushing him deeper, faster. That makes him tsk but smiles at the same time as he pushes the rest of the way, finally seating himself. Without giving you a chance to relax he starts fucking you, his cock pushes perfectly against your insides, pulling sounds from you that you haven't made in years.

He sits back on his heels lifting your ass effortlessly until your weight is resting on your shoulders and neck. It's like he is in a trance, pulling you onto his cock over and over again. Your body is his, your mind has fled, and all you see and feel is just him all around you. His eyes keep changing between his dick filling your cunt, your bouncing tits, and your half-lit eyes as if he is not sure where to look. "Mine," he rasps and thrusts hard to empathize the word. "All mine. Say it."

It takes some time for your brain to connect to your mouth and form the words but his gaze never leaves you. "Yours," you whimper. "I'm yours, Bucky." There is a familiar heat low in your belly that's steadily spreading through your limbs. It makes you wiggle and move because it's overwhelming. He is overwhelming in the best sense. Whining you reach down to rub yourself but he slaps your hand away. "I thought I told you, it's mine. I own this cunt. If you wanna touch yourself you have to ask permission." It's as close to a growl as is humanly possible and you don't understand how he can be so cognizant right now, because your brain is like putty. "Can I please rub my clit Bucky, I wanna come on your cock so bad," you cry.

"Good girl," he praises, and when he calls you that, your mouth falls open with a keening sound, gripping the sheets even harder, pulling at them because you want to come so bad. "Do it, show me how you get off when you're alone in bed without me." Everything is slippery and sensitive when you start with your fingers and you immediately know it's going to go fast. With his previous words in mind, you ask. "Can I come?" He meets your eyes with a wicked smile. "Fast learner. Yeah, you can come… when I tell you."

You rip your hand away, afraid you might fall over the edge at any second. The sound out of your throat is almost a sob. "Don't be like that, doll, I thought you said you couldn't do it more times?" "I can-I can! As many times as you want just please let me come." "Fuck, I like it when you beg with my cock in you." But he doesn't say anything else, just continues fucking you. He's not even winded while you're straining your entire body. Your hand wants to move back, anything to relieve the pressure inside you but Bucky was very clear and you don’t want to disobey him.

Then he pulls out and drops you onto the bed, but you don't get to relax because he flips you onto your stomach and pushes one of your knees up to the side before he presses in. His dick hits your G-spot dead on and you scream into the pillow under you. Bucky chuckles right by your ear. "Guess I found it." He's merciless, his hips hit your ass hard and if it weren't for his weight pressing you down you would soon hit the headboard.

"Bucky!" you wail because it's too much. You're losing the last pieces of your mind to the sheer force of the pleasure and you're scared you're never going to be able to come back to yourself. Then his hand presses in between you and the mattress. "Rub yourself on my fingers, make yourself cum. Fuck my cock and come all over me doll." You brace yourself as best you can and move your hips as he keeps almost completely still, just shallow thrusts in stark comparison to what he was doing to you just moments ago.

His fingers slide along your clit, his cock brushing your G-spot over and over again. You're breathless, sweat breaking out along your skin, but the climax you're chasing will be well worth it. You just know it.

"I can't fill you up until I’ve felt you come around me," he grunts, his voice tight with holding back. You whimper, the feeling of fire flushing your whole body, and building up to an eruption like no other. "Yes, yes, yes," he chants low in your ear. "That's it, come for me, make me proud. Fuck it feels so good." And he starts moving again "I'm going to fill you fucking full of my cum. That's it!"

The heat in you breaks and you come with a shout of his name, shaking under him. It gets even more intense when Bucky finishes right behind you, groaning your name. He collapses on top of you but his hips are still moving, slowly, as if he doesn’t want it to ever end. Neither would you but your body is wrecked.

When he finally rolls off, you're so close to falling asleep, but he picks you up and carries you to the bathroom. "Pee." He points and you want to tell him that you know the drill, this isn't your first time, but all that comes out is a grumble before he closes the door behind him and you sit down on the toilet.

When you're done, you stumble out and have a moment of panic, thinking he left. But then the door opens and Bucky returns with two bottles of water, handing you one before leading you to the bed and sitting you down on the edge. Gratefully you drink and lean against his shoulder before asking. "How do you feel?" "Better than I have in a long time," he answers, kissing your forehead. You chuckle. "Yeah I have a magical pussy, it can cure anything," you joke and it makes him laugh. "You should get back to quarantine," you comment. "Before anyone notices." He shakes his head. "No I'm staying here, I'm never leaving you again." He takes the bottle from your hand and places it on the bedside table together with his own. Then he crawls beneath the sheets and you go after him, letting him envelop you in a tight embrace before you fall asleep.

Alarms blare and you wake with a start. "FRIDAY what's going on?" you ask out into the room. “Sergeant Barnes has escaped his confinement.” The voice echoes through the room. You sigh and glare at Bucky grumbling beside you, like the loud signal is just a regular alarm clock. "FRIDAY please inform the team that Bucky is here and everything is fine."

A second later the sound dies and with a sigh you get up to pull on yesterday's discarded t-shirt and find a pair of pants. Right when you're done there is a knock on the door and Steve asks, "Everything okay in there?" You open the door enough to show yourself. "We're fine, he broke out during the night and came here." "Oh," Steve says and there is a hint of blush on his cheeks.

Then you feel a presence behind you and Bucky’s arm goes around your waist. "Mine," he says and you can't see him but he's probably glaring daggers at Steve who backs away. "We'll be okay, I'll alert FRIDAY if I need help," you tell Steve. When you close the door Bucky turns you before pushing you up against it and kissing you hard. "Mine," he mumbles against your lips. "Fucking caveman," you tell him. He grabs you around the waist and throws you over his shoulder. "I'll show you caveman," he says and carries you to the bed

#veltana writes #bucky barnes #avengers!bucky barnes #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #posessive!bucky barnes #possessive!bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #possessive!bucky #posessive!bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fic #bucky fanfic

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chlorinecake · 8 months

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Hey I had a request can you do one reaction thingy for enhypen (excluding Niki as he's a minor)

So the reaction is "Your boyfriend (the member) is fucking you or just are getting intimate (oral or are kissing while being naked etc.) and another member enters and sees you and gets a boner . Here you can add few things either they get jealous or they ask the person to join or just watch.

Sorry if it's too precise or uncomfortable for you

✶ Caught Slippin’ | 18+ ENHA REACTIONS

cw: implied threesomes, oral (f. & m. receiving), voyeurism, exhibitionism, tit play, overstim, heavy smut, between 200-300 words per member, enha!bf quotes are italicized

이희승 ✶ Lee Heeseung

“Don’t you ever get tired of fucking me all the time?” You asked your boyfriend while cuddling.

“Is that your way of asking me to praise you?”

“Would you be mad if I said yes?” He giggled, “You know I could never get tired of this,” he smiled into a kiss, running his hands all over your body.

“Heeseung, the boys are downstairs—” “Yeah, and we’re up here. Don’t act like this isn’t where you wanted this to go. Now I wanna hear you say it. Tell me what you want.”

“I want you, Heeseung.” He looked at the door, moving to go and close it before you pulled him by his shirt, “Please don’t keep me waiting, Hee. I need you so bad,” you pouted.

“What is it baby? You want me to fuck you like my cute little cum slut with the door wide open?” You sqeeuzed your legs shut at his words, a throbbing sensation building up at your core.

He wasted no more time removing your clothes, sinking himself into your wetness before rutting into your needy hole. You moaned in his ear, nibbling at the skin as you rocked back and forth against the mattress, feeling dizzy from all of the pleasure.

The two of you were so wrapped up in each other that you didn’t notice Jay standing there, a raging hard-on poking through his pants. “Don’t just stand there and watch! Get the hell outta here!” Heeseung growled. Jay stammered out an apology that fell on deaf ears, fleeing the unholy scene before closing the door behind him.

“Hmm, I thought he was gonna join us,” you smirked, meeting your possessive boyfriend’s gaze. “As if I’d ever share you with anyone else.”

박종성 ✶ Park Jongseong

Your boyfriend Jay was in the middle of baking when you decided to come and check on him.

“Jungwon, I swear to God, if you touch one more thing in this kitchen, I'm gonna-," Jay paused mid-sentence before realizing it was only you stalking him from the counter.

He laughed off his anger, dipping a finger into the frosting he made and bringing some of it to your mouth. “How’s it taste?”

“Delicious,” you smirked, seductively licking his finger clean.

“Your lips look so fucking pretty right now," Jay whispered, pulling you in for a kiss which quickly escalated to you lying over the countertop completely naked, his skilled fingers getting lost between your legs.

“Fuck~," you moaned shakily, arching your back against the cold surface, "W-what if s-someone catches us like this?"

“As wet as you are right now, you obviously don’t mind the idea of being caught.”

And it was at that very moment when Jungwon whipped around the kitchen corner. "Jay-hyung, I forgot to show you this new camera my sister got me-." His rambling stopped immediately at the sight of Jay lapping at your dripping core.

“Oh my God!" Jay yelped in shock, covering you in his apron before running to Jungwon, snatching the camera out of his hand to delete the footage. "Won, what the hell?" Jay scowled, noticing the tent forming behind Jungwon’s pants before smashing the camera on the tile ground.

Jay didn't have to say anything else before Jungwon ran out of the kitchen, avoiding you two for the rest of the day if not longer.

“You’re gonna replace his camera, right?” You asked Jay while readjusting your clothes.

“Ask me next week and I’ll have a kinder answer.”

심재윤 ✶ Sim Jaeyun

You and Jake were a hot mess on the living room couch, grinding against each others clothed heats and exchanging what felt like a thousand kisses.

He gripped your ass, pushing your weight down on his dick before throwing his head back, sweat dripping down his neck.

“Fuck, ____,” he moaned into your mouth, guiding your movements.

“What is it, Jakey? Afraid you’re blow your load too soon,” you teased. “If I knew it was a challenge, I would’ve done this a long time ago,” he smirked, releasing his swollen tip from the sweat pants he wore to stimulate your clit.

You gripped onto his shoulder, trembling at the pleasure that curled in your stomach.

But little did Jake know, Sunghoon was watching you two from afar, stroking himself out in the open at the unholy sight. You felt encouraged to put on a whole performance, moaning like a pornstar and playing with your tits before you and Sunghoon finished at the same time.

That’s when Jake noticed your gaze was fixed on something else, turning around only to meet Sunghoon’s lust-ridden features, chest still heaving from his climax. “You fucking slut,” Jake spat, pushing you off his lap and flipping you on all fours.

He ripped your panties off and shoved himself past your throbbing hole, going at it like a madman. “How’s this for a show, huh? Is this dirty enough for you?” he grunted from behind, tugging your hair like reins.

It was only a matter of time before Jake finished, calling Sunghoon over to take turns with you for the rest of the night.

박성훈 ✶ Park Sunghoon

“You know I hate telling my baby no, but you’re gonna have to work for it today, princess,” Sunghoon hummed, crawling up to the head of the bed and spreading his legs. “You have three minutes or else this is all you get.”

“Starting when?”

“5 seconds ago.”

You hastily met him between his legs, pulling his boxers down with eager fingers. His breath was already jagged just from the anticipation he felt while watching you. Pulling his dick out, you trailed light kisses from the base to its head, pumping him in your hand before taking half of his length into your mouth.

“So warm for me, baby. Mngh, feels so fucking good already,” he moaned lazily. You stared into his sleepy eyes, feeling him twitch in your mouth as he grew more lightheaded with each suck. “Such a good girl for me, keep taking me just like that.”

“Sunghoon, the boys wanna know what your vote is for din-“ Sunoo stood in shock, blood rushing to both of his heads. “Ahhh, I’m so sorry—CRAP! I didn’t mean to intrude!!!” The nervous boy protested, covering his eyes with his hands.

“It’s kinda too late for you to leave, now, Sunoo. Close the door and take a seat. Maybe you’ll think twice about getting hard for my girl after you watch me fuck her for the next hour.” Sunghoon snickered, clenching his jaw.

Sunoo hesitated before giving in, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

김선우 ✶ Kim Sunoo

You bounced up and down on Sunoo’s length in reverse cowgirl style, his cold hands wandering to massage your nipples. Sunoo’s breath hitched in his chest, the corners of his eyes brimming with tears from the overstimulation.

“How much longer, baby? I don’t think I can hold back anymore,” He whined, burying his forehead into your sweaty back. “Not until someone comes in, sweetie. That was the rule.”

The poor boy groaned beneath you, reaching a hand over your hip to rub rough circles against your clit. “Sun,” you whimpered, eyes rolling in the back of your head. You clenched around him, causing him to let out his loudest moan yet as he held up your body weight with his arms.

Jake casually walked into the room with a pair of headphones on. He was oblivious to what was going on because of the loud music blaring in his ears and the darkness of the room.

He suddenly felt the ground thud beneath him, Sunoo having dropped you on the floor in shock. “Oh, fuck- sorry,” Jake froze, covering the boner that both you and Sunoo had already noticed.

Sunoo launched a pillow in Jake’s direction, a string of curse words flying from both their mouths.

“Seriously, hyung, learn to knock once in a while!”

You met your pouty boyfriend back on the bed, stroking his tense thigh. “Wanna pick up where we left off at.”

“Absolutely not and never again.”

양정원 ✶ Yang Jungwon

A conversation about asteroids and the cosmos led to your boyfriend playing with your bare tits. “They’re so pretty, baby.” He whispered, sucking and nibbling on the sensitive skin.

Only a few minutes of this lasted before Jungwon was completely hard. You looked into his eyes, pausing his ministrations.

“Do you maybe wanna try fucking them?”

That was the last thing you said before Jungwon positioned himself on your waist, gliding his thickness between your swollen breasts. His face was flushed and thrusts sloppy as he chased his high, dribbles of precum already decorating your sweaty collarbone.

The door slung open, the two of you feeling your hearts stop as Heeseung’s eyes fixed on your pretty tits hugging Jungwon’s cock. "Hyung-" Jungwon began before noticing the bulge forming behind Heeseung's pants, eyes widening in disebelief.

He retreated his hands from your chest, burning holes into Heeseung's forehead with his threatening gaze. "So now you're getting hard for my girlfriend?'

"How was I supposed to know you two virgins were in here fooling around? I just came to get my charger back.”

"Terrible choice of words, Hee,” Jungwon retorted, chasing Heeseung out of the room with balled fists, leaving you behind in a fit of bashful giggles.

✶ Special thanks to the lovely anon who requested this piece! This was my first time writing HEAVY smut, so I hope you all enjoyed!!! Make sure to check out my enhypen bookshelf for more fun reads ~

Tags: @fanficfactoryfoxxx @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @kaykay11sworld @rickysblkgf @4imhry @yngwife @bambangan

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ctrlchar · 3 months

Note

HIII can you do something like were your giving Johnnie head while he’s playing video games with his friends or streaming on twitch or filming a video and he’s trying so hard not to moan and he gets so fed up he fucks you or something idk 🗣️👍

giving Johnnie head under his desk headcannons

a/n: I loveeee this idea sm thank you for the request!!

cw: kinda public? it’s through a screen but you get the point,somewhat rough,

he’d be sooo pissed off but at the same time he’d love it sm

it would be whenever he’s live,leaving you to your own thoughts as he played a series of games with his friends on twitch

every once and while whenever he got a break from the game he would talk to you and give you a little kiss if you were still in the room with him

of course this wasn’t enough

you had considered humping his pillow on his bed but you figured it might be too obvious if he repeatedly been looking over at his bed

eventually Johnnie had decided to pull away from his chair to go and grab him a water bottle which was on his desk

seeing this window of opportunity, you crept under his desk sitting on your knees as he gave you a confused look which was just barely out of frame of the camera

you began to unbuckle his pants,making it abundantly clear as to what your intentions were

you took his for now soft cock out of the restraints of Johnnie’s jeans and began to slowly stroke it

Johnnie on the other hand was trying to put all his attention on the game which had just begun a new round rather then the sensation between his legs

you had begun to take the tip into your mouth,his hips bucking up slightly which to anyone watching looked like he had just been readjusting in his seat

every time you would take more of him into your mouth he would curse out a profane word with a “cough” at the end

to the viewers it looked as if he had simply gotten pissed off at his game but to you that was obviously not the case

his knuckles were turning white from how hard he was gripping his mouse to keep his composure

your tounge danced against the underside of his cock driving him absolutely batshit insane

after a couple more minutes of you teasing his cock his friends conveniently decided they had played enough games for the night and decided to end their streams making Johnnie follow suit

“alright guys” he says his voice cracking a bit at the end “i’ll see you all later” he says before quickly ending the stream

as soon as he ends the stream you remove your mouth from his cock going back to slowly stroking it

you giggle softly and look up at him as he runs his hand through his hair before he pulls himself from behind his desk

“what the fuck was that” he asks seeming upset however you both knew he wasn’t genuinely upset at all

however he was to a degree pissed

“i was bored” you pout “and you wouldn’t give me any attention”

i mean all you wanted was his attention so that’s exactly what you got

he proceeded to bend you over his bed using the spit off of his cock mixed with your own slick as lube as he pushed himself deep inside you bottoming out in one push

“tryna get me fuckin’ caught up huh?” he says thrusting into you at a even faster rate then before,the obscene sound of his hips meeting yours filling the room

“thinkin’ you can tease me and get away with it” he grunts out to which you whine due to all the pleasure coursing through your body

you couldn’t even form sentences because of how good he was making you feel. all you could do was moan out a string of apologies as his hands move to your hips

“i don’t think you’re really sorry” he admits “if you were sorry you wouldn’t be creaming all over my fucking dick” he says punctuating the last two words with a thrust.

looking down to see what he was talking about you noticed the white ring that had formed around the base of his cock

he begins to slow down his thrusts giving you a minute to talk before going back to his relentless pace

“mhm I promise m’ sorry” is all you could cry out with tears forming at your eyes

his ring clad hands grip onto your hips which was sure to leave bruises the next day but you didn’t care

if anything you wanted him to leave bruises you wanted to have a constant reminder of just how good Johnnie fucks you

mutually, he wanted the bruises to stay as a reminder to not tease him like that again

his grunts turn into moans as he approaches his long awaited orgasm

he could tell you were getting close as well from the way your back was arching off the bed to the way your moans picked up and got even higher then before

with his tone softening up he moves one of his hands to your hair petting it softly “come on baby cum for me” which was all you needed to hear

your nails scratched down his back as you came hard,almost on the verge of shaking had Johnnie not been holding onto you

with a couple more thrusts Johnnie had came inside you,as he slowly pulled out watching his cum drip out of you

after a couple minutes of you guys laying together on his bed you look up at him from where you had been laying on his chest

“you’re not actually mad are you?” you ask looking up at him

his face softens “of course not baby” he says leaving a light kiss on your head as he held you close in his arms

#johnnie guilbert #smut #johnnie guilbert headcannons #johnnie guilbert smut #jake webber #jake webber smut #jake webber headcannons #jake webber imagine #johnnie guilber imagine #johnnie guilbert x reader #johnnie guilbert imagine #jake and johnnie

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saintobio · 1 month

Text

sincerely yours. (10)

↳ gojou satoru/reader

when a twist of fate led their marriage to the path of a quintessential tragic romance, two past lovers go through another series of experiences on love, heartbreak, identity, illness, and trauma along the road to a happily ever after.

genre. heavy angst, amnesia, modern au, 18+

tags/warnings. depression, intoxication, trauma, implied suicide attempt, toxic relationships,

notes. important announcement ! as you all know, this series has always had an extensive approach into detailing the events in its side stories (ie. sera x sukuna x naoya, yuuji x megumi, maki x yuuta x miwa, etc), but while writing the chapters, the word count and the plot building had become too exhausting for me to produce consistently, esp with the amount of scenes and side stories i was introducing to the story, so i've decided it's best for me to stick to the main characters, reader & gojo, and will only add side stories as necessary. this really hurts me knowing that i can't achieve the level of comprehensive writing and world building that i did for sincerely not, but i really want to finish sy as soon as possible and removing a chunk of side stories would be some of the things that'd help me achieve that 😭 i hope you guys understand. hopefully i'll figure out a way to write those side stories instead of completely abandoning them mid-way in this series. but as always, thanks for ur continued support <3

series masterlist -> episode eleven

“It’s a little weird.”

What was supposed to be her bed time had turned into a moment of reflection for Sera who, instead of being fast asleep at this time of the night, had unconsciously brought herself inside Sukuna’s home office to join the up-and-coming tech mogul in his late-night programming.

She wore her silk pajamas, pacing back and forth in her boyfriend’s office as her mind flew back to the recent encounter she had with her ex-boyfriend. Who knew that Satoru’s kid would look just like a carbon copy of him? No, actually, the question should be: who knew it would be a different woman by his side acting as the mother of his child? Sera had to laugh at herself, shaking her head as she realized how truly and undeniably ridiculous her ex was. It was clear that day that he wasn’t really as loyal of a partner as he claimed himself to be.

Did he really just go through all those crazy things with you, only to look like a whore-hopping fool now?

If he was bound to end up with someone else other than you, then why did he have to make Sera’s life miserable in the first place?

She may have done terrible things before as a selfish and materialistic lover of his, but that wouldn’t change the fact that Satoru also contributed to her role as the side-piece in his marital relationship. He allowed her to cling to him like a mistress. Being his side-piece wasn’t even something that she had forced upon him. It was his promise, an idea that he planted on Sera’s head, saying that she would need to stay by his side and that he would marry her guaranteed that he had already secured the merger and divorced you. He swore like a fool that he would divorce you. But guess what? The jerk ended up falling in love with his wife and suddenly had no use of Sera. Suddenly, he was such a good husband who couldn’t be more loyal. Suddenly, he was a lovestruck man who had always been in love with his childhood friend. If he had downright dumped Sera the moment his engagement was announced, if he had not been prideful and ambitious since the beginning of his marriage, he probably would have had better luck at having that healthy relationship he yearned from you.

But how come the blame of being the third-party was all on Sera when her only mistake then was loving the person who promised her all the good things in life?

Now, you see, this was all just bitterness brewing at the back of her head. She knew what she did was still wrong and that she wasn’t innocent. Sera swore to herself that she would never look back on those awful days ever again, but seeing how Satoru was running around freely with a different woman just reminded Sera of his days as a spiteful, two-timing man. Somehow, it felt like he had changed and yet didn’t at all.

Ha ha ha. How ridiculous was that?

“What’s funny?” asked Sukuna, her present boyfriend and thankfully so. He was Sera’s blessing, because she never would have thought that a man like him could still exist in a world full of Satoru’s and Naoya’s. “You look cute smiling to yourself, though.”

“I know,” she responded to the compliment, shifting to settle herself on his lap, though his attention remained fixed on his laptop screen. “It's just strange to me,” she continued, her voice thoughtful, “how Gojou appears his usual self, yet there's something off about him.”

The question clouded Sukuna’s eyes in confusion, tilting his head to the side as he tried to comprehend her description. “You mean dude got uglier?”

I wish, Sera thought. “No, he’s… he’s different. The vibes are different. For a second, he even looked like he was dissociating the whole time he was with that girl,” she said, referring to Satoru’s new girl as though she was your cheap alternative, “But then again, why is he with her in the first place if he looks absent-minded the whole time, you know what I mean?”

“Was he like that with you before?”

“At times, but it’s not like the way he’s acting right now… I don’t know, I can’t explain it. The energy is off. That’s just not how he acts when he’s really, really into someone.”

To be honest, Sukuna didn’t give a damn about Satoru Gojou’s life and any normal boyfriend wouldn’t really like hearing their girlfriend talking about another man, especially her ex at that, but he knew Sera found joy in old money gossip and he was aware of the demoralizing past she has had by associating herself with them. Sukuna was acting all engaged in their conversation because he wanted to make her feel heard and that he shared her simple joys in life. Besides, it was through her that he learned so many inside scoops about the people that ran the country’s biggest conglomerates. It was like watching one heck of a messy episode of Dynasty.

“Didn’t he get into a car accident?” he recalled, remembering the headlines on the news that day, “Then, we saw him at the expo and he couldn’t really remember you. The guy’s probably got his head all messed up.”

Sera was bitter at the time thinking that Satoru was toying with her when he asked who she was, when the truth was, he was actually diagnosed with amnesia. It was such a shock to her, truthfully, because having amnesia felt like something you would only see on a movie’s screen. Well, in that case, she could also say karma’s a bitch. The director might be onto something here.

“He’s probably not mentally fine, but still…” she thought carefully and played the scene in her head again. What was it about the Gojou that she saw the other day that was different? “He just has a different vibe to him that it feels uncomfortable. It’s like he’s rude, but not so rude? He doesn’t have much of a personality anymore. Like a complete stranger.”

“Maybe it’s the new girl rubbing off on him.” Sukuna was back to typing on his laptop as he said that. Frankly, he was just saying anything at this point.

Sera shook her head in response. “Well, I don’t know about that girl he’s seeing and I don’t really care, but it’s common knowledge to the filthy rich that she’s Y/N’s best friend. That’s why I recognized her right away, and that’s why it disgusted me,” she pressed on, “Tell me, would you—and be honest about this—would you fuck your best friend’s ex?”

The humor on her boyfriend’s face came right as she asked that. “Babe, you fucked a married man. It’s worse than fucking somebody’s ex.”

“Shut up.” Rolling her eyes, she got up from his lap and sighed, but Sukuna wasted no time in pulling her back onto his lap. His chuckle was mingling with the gentle kiss he had planted on her cheek, unaware that his actions made Sera’s heart flutter. “Forget it. I shouldn’t even be talking about Satoru with you.”

The man stretched his arms and finally closed his laptop, patting Sera’s thigh afterwards. “On that note, I do have another ‘dude from your past’ that I gotta meet tomorrow.”

Her reaction alone was a response for him. “Naoya?” she protested, face contorting with disgust. “What for? I told you not to take on that project.”

“Yeah, I considered it, and you know, the partnership could really benefit CleaveTech,” Sukuna reasoned, leaning back as he outlined the situation to her from a business standpoint. Given her own background working for the Gojou Group before, he expected her to grasp the significance of this partnership and set aside any personal grievances or emotional attachments. “The Zen'in Group is a major client. It’s all pros and no cons here.”

“The contra is the guy you’re gonna work with,” she highlighted with a hint of annoyance rising from her throat, “Naoya is nothing but an opportunistic motherfucker. Mind you, he’s a stupid elitist, too.”

He held back a laugh, not even threatened by a man who had a terrible history with his girlfriend. “Nah, I’ll deal with him. Just trust me on this.”

As much as Sera wanted to object, she knew Sukuna had a point and that she really shouldn’t hinder his company from being partnered with such a large conglomerate. She just didn’t like the thought of her boyfriend being around a man who manipulated and humiliated her to the point where she had been blacklisted by multiple companies, leaving her to resort to being somewhat of a prostitute just to make ends meet.

The world was harsh for the not-so-rich, and all Sera wanted was to give those upper class people a taste of their own medicine. But seeing as her desire for revenge would clash with her boyfriend’s chance at company growth, she had to set aside her personal grudge and support him on this one.

Still, there was nothing wrong with being curious. “Is there any other reason you agreed to this partnership?”

Sukuna smirked as if he expected that question from her. “Blame it on my little brother, he’s been bugging me ‘bout it.”

“Yuuji?” Sera asked, clearly confused.

To which her boyfriend quickly answered, “Yeah. He said it’ll give him an opportunity to work with his best friend. You know that kid, Fushiguro, right?”

Ahh. Toji’s kid aka the heir to the Zen’in business empire. Sera had met Megumi before, and while that other brat Mai used to be unreasonably rude to her, the younger boy was always civil and respectful at least. He never even once treated Sera like dirt when she was spending time with Naoya at their mansion. Perhaps their upbringing really differed because he was raised by Toji and the other Zen’ins were raised by demons.

Nevertheless, with a connection now established between Sukuna and Naoya through Yuuji and Megumi, Sera couldn’t help but feel that her peaceful days as a nouveau riche were about to become far more intriguing. Depending on the cards she would choose to play, they could even turn into a living nightmare.

— —

You weren’t exactly abandoning your company; you were merely taking a break, a necessary pause given your current mental state after the whole break-up with Toji and the Osaka thing. Your mind was just too overwhelmingly occupied to even properly function. Each day, mustering the energy to show up at Hearte's head office became increasingly challenging, especially when faced with individuals who relied on you for major decisions and creative direction.

To make matters worse, Akemi’s sudden resignation hit hard.

You received her decision by a simple letter, a mere piece of paper, without even having the guts and decency to meet with you in person. Was she scared? Or was this her way of rubbing salt on the wound, shoving it in your face that she was now taking things to the next level with your ex-husband?

She did cite in her resignation letter that her reason for resigning from the role was due to conflict of interest. You wanted to laugh when you read that part. No, you wanted to choke in your fit of laughter after reading through her asinine reasons. She could have been upfront and mentioned that the so-called ‘conflict’ was the very man her best friend had previously married.

Obviously, everyone in the office felt sad knowing that a core member of the company left without at least a 30-day notice, but they were all also aware that her resignation was due to personal albeit controversial reasons. Did Akemi not care about her image at all? The same colleagues she had trained, managed, and collaborated with would now likely gossip about her behind her back. She would become a hot topic of disrespect among the people that once heavily respected her. Did she also not care about the company you two created together anymore? This was the same company you two had passionately dreamed of during your late-night conversations on a New York rooftop. She was the one who wanted to build a fashion house together with you.

Yet, it seemed she was willing to throw it all away for a man already entangled in complicated familial dynamics. Her immediate resignation and refusal to speak to you in person just further confirmed it to you that Akemi was willing to forsake your friendship by choosing a man who already had a child with someone else.

Since she chose that path, you couldn’t help but interpret Akemi’s actions as a deliberate slight against your friendship. It seemed clear that she no longer viewed you as a friend and was essentially cutting ties with you. Otherwise, why would she take such a step? Akemi wasn’t the type to be vindictive; she likely believed she was sparing you further pain by severing your connection. However, regardless of her intentions, her actions felt deeply disrespectful and hurtful.

If this was what she wanted, then kudos to her and her unbelievable confidence to choose a man like Satoru Gojou. Besides, it didn’t even take you a week to find another replacement. Your family connections were powerful after all. You readily had a pool of potential candidates for the role of the Head of Sales, Retail, and Merchandising—all from prestigious backgrounds and unparalleled expertise. While the competition was tough, you selected the person you deemed was the most qualified to be your second-in-command. This was someone you had esteemed since college, a person who excelled in both business acumen and creative vision.

Yuki Tsukumo. She was influential in every sense, and you trusted that she would be able to manage the high pressure environment of a start-up fashion house and transform it into an iconic brand, a household name that would one day rival Chanel and Miu Miu.

You may have succeeded in replacing Akemi. You may have shown her that her position in the workforce was easily replaceable, but her role as your friend still left a lingering, repugnant mark that proved far more difficult to erase. This underlying sentiment could explain the unreasonable anger festering in your heart—a visceral reaction born from feelings of backstabbing betrayal.

It was hard enough for you to travel all the way to Osaka with a broken heart, but it became much more agonizing to watch your own son run up to Akemi like she was his mother. It was a goddamn slap to your face, indeed, to see that your ex-husband had already chosen a woman to have his happy, little family with. That he wanted to be a good man and be everything you wished for in a husband for her.

As they say, nothing hurts more than building a man for another woman.

And honestly? You cried so much on the way home that you became numb. Now, you were just trying to get over it. You were trying to bury the searing pain in order to forget the betrayal you felt. It was all too much for a person to handle and it wasn’t like you hadn’t gone through the same old shit before. Wasn’t it worse before with Satoru actually cheating and all? He technically wasn’t crossing any lines here, so it shouldn’t hurt you. It shouldn’t. You had been here before. If you had managed to get through such an awful time as his previous wife, his relationship with Akemi shouldn’t be too hard to accept. No, you weren’t trying to lowball your pain, but it was better to be an optimist in this situation than be a suicidal, self-destructive person. You had a business to run and a child to raise. You had to be strong.

Or at least, that was what you told yourself. That was what you had been telling yourself over and over, each time you got up from bed forcing yourself to have a false positive mindset. In fact, that was also why you had to take this extended break because you had to have your peace of mind. You had to have some form of release to remember why you needed to stay alive and keep yourself going.

Not just for Sachiro’s sake, but also for your own.

Your safe haven for now was at the horse ranch, where the tranquility of riding and the beauty of nature provided the perfect ambiance for reflection. How long has it been since your last visit to Willow? Your father had been joking that you shouldn’t be leaving a beautiful, white Friesian horse unattended for years, especially not for the expensive price he paid her for. True enough, because the moment you saw the mare again, you almost forgot how majestic she was for her breed. Willow was a completely docile and graceful horse, so alike to you in many ways. However, one thing that was unlike you, was that she lived in peace, existing solely for herself and not for anyone else.

If only you could be like her.

As you reached out to stroke your rare-breed horse, a new and unfamiliar stallion in the stable caught your eye. To think of it, your family shared this equestrian estate with the Gojou family. This realization meant that the strikingly elegant and tall gray horse in the adjacent stall belonged to none other than Satoru.

“It’s a Thoroughbred,” the equine caretaker informed while guiding your horse out of the stable, “Mr. Satoru got him recently and named him Six.”

A gray Thoroughbred, renowned as the most expensive horse breeds out there. It could fetch a price as high as $70 million, and of course, Satoru was the perfect owner for such a prestigious horse. The stallion embodied his essence completely—its color, its build, its rarity. On the other hand, you couldn’t help but find his naming convention by number a bit odd. His previous black stallion was named Eight. This time around, it was Six. Couldn’t he be more imaginative?

“He’s beautiful,” you mumbled, nonetheless, in awe with the regality of the horse.

“He’s a good boy, too,” added the enthusiastic horsekeeper in a thick country accent, “Mr. Satoru was here yesterday and played polo while riding him. They were perfectly in sync even if it was his first time riding him.”

Of course, he would play polo. That was one of his favorite recreational sports. The burning question at hand was, who was with him during his visit? Because if the caretaker mentioned Akemi, you would certainly lose it. This was your private space with him. This estate was a place that none of his other women had access to, not even Sera. This was a location filled with memories from your childhood. For him to bring another woman here would be crossing the damn line.

“Did he bring anyone with him?” you asked, trying to sound casual as you dusted off your boots.

The caretaker denied. “No, he was alone. He just came to play polo and check the horses he recently bought.”

Oh… “He bought more than one?”

Did he seriously get Akemi her own horse? Your heart was racing at the thought, but the caretaker led you to the stable near the exit to show you the other horse than your ex-husband had purchased. It was a brown Shetland pony.

“He got a fully trained Shetland for your son,” the horsekeeper proudly declared, showcasing the pony as if he had been instructed to do so in anticipation of your visit. It was obvious that Gojou had already briefed him on introducing Sachiro’s new pony to you because he knew you would be asking about it. “His name is Elmo. He is kid-safe and very friendly.”

Frankly, you wanted to sigh in relief, but at the same time, it warmed your heart to know that Satoru got his son his own horse at such a young age. You could already sense him planning to make Sachiro take equestrian classes when he gets older, and probably join him on his horseback riding sessions, too. You could imagine just how perfect it would be to see the father and son bonding here, racing together, playing polo together… yet it would not be you who would be watching them on the side.

This future he was setting up with his son would be an experience he would share with Akemi.

There was no you in that vision anymore.

The caretaker likely questioned your sanity when he noticed the bitter smile on your face as you mounted your mare. He might have even doubted whether you were sane enough to ride alone, without a guide, particularly through the woods since Willow had not been ridden for some time now. However, you had done it countless times before and were quite familiar with the trail, and so you dismissed his offer to lead you and assured him confidently that you knew your way back.

You needed this solitude. You craved this moment of peace, alone with your thoughts and surrounded by nature, to reflect on the ceaseless torture of your life. It was just never-ending, squeezing every drop of happiness out of your system to make sure that you would only live to suffer. You really thought you had your happy ending with someone else? You actually believed you had found the perfect man to be your actual husband?

Well, unfortunately for you, Toji was not the one.

At first, your mind flew to Toji as you went on to the trail, allowing the mare to continue trotting as you held the reins to control her. You remembered Toji’s text that morning, asking you for the hundredth time if he could meet with you. He likely wanted to apologize in person, but you doubted he would change his mind and take back the things he said. Because they were true. He could never fill the void left by his deceased wife by being with another empty soul. It was painfully, unmistakably true. You were better off dead if that was the case, because even if you did end up marrying him, you would never be regarded as the person he loved the most. After all, your role in this world seemed to always be the second option. You were never the first in other people’s books. Not with your ex-husband. Not even with your family, especially with Gen around. You were meant to be a bystander, watching others live their perfect lives while you were forced to be in your misery. Someone like Toji would not have a guaranteed blissful marriage with you and you had to spare him from that. You had to draw the line and step back from this charade that you were playing with him, knowing that you were never the right person to be with him, so at some point, you had to accept his drunken words. They came from a place of truth, and that truth would set the both of you free.

Even it hurt. Even if it fucking hurt to hear his words. You couldn’t deny them.

You could easily forgive him, but his words might take a while for you to forget because even thinking about it now was bringing a wave of pain into your chest. You didn’t even notice that you were losing control on Willow’s reins by the time you entered further into the woods, bouncing on the saddle as you galloped along the challenging path. With the speed you were riding right now, inexperienced riders would certainly find it unsafe and scary. But for you? It was just what you needed. The breeze of fresh air, the thrill of riding alone, the peaceful sound of nature—you could die there and be at your happiest.

Maybe that was where you had to be; to disappear and leave them all behind. Wouldn’t that be best for everyone? If you were to vanish, they could finally be free. Your presence, even from the beginning, was a burden for everyone—for your dad, Gen, Satoru, Toji, and even Akemi. The people you trusted the most would be the same people who would secretly celebrate your demise. So, what else was hindering you from taking matters into your own hands and ending it all yourself?

“Giddy up!”

Was it Sachiro? Definitely. But now he had his father, and he was likely starting to see Akemi as a mother figure as well. Your role as his beloved mama could be easily replaced if you were to leave him now. It wouldn’t hurt him as much that way. Three years with Sachiro seemed sufficient enough, and he was at an age where he could grow up alongside his father. In this short span, he would have lasting memories with you, yet not enough to deeply grieve your absence. He was a young child, surrounded by people who would offer the whole world to him. At least, for that, you were eternally grateful. It brought you comfort knowing that your son would have support after you were gone, and that he would find a mother figure in Akemi. Given the brief time he spent with you and the rest of his life with her as his stepmother, Sachiro would likely come to love and accept Akemi as his own mother. This was the best outcome you could hope for.

My child, my son, my baby… please don’t get mad at mommy.

Tears were gushing out of your eyes and you hadn’t even realized it until they started blurring your vision. You were far too lost in your own thoughts, unaware that you were now in an unfamiliar and seemingly dangerous part of the trail. The path was getting a little bit too steep and poor Willow was clearly stressed at your inconsiderate handling. There were multiple obstacles on your rocky terrain and you weren’t as steady and controlled as you wanted to be because the horse wasn’t comfortable navigating such a difficult path with the pace you were forcing her to.

“Ah!”

Your attempt to balance was interrupted by Willow’s loud neigh, signaling her distress before she bolted into a full rampage. She was sprinting at an estimated speed of 20 miles per hour. Not even a skilled rider like Satoru himself would be cantering that fast on unfamiliar terrain and an unfit horse. But you, you clearly had a death wish, because instead of fearing for your own life, you were far more concerned at the thought of how dreamy Satoru and Akemi’s wedding would look like after your demise. They would definitely make Sachiro their ringbearer. Suguru would be the best man. Shoko, the maid of honor. People on the internet would praise them for being an attractive couple. They would anticipate their beautiful kids together, living in the same mansion he bought as a gift to you. He would kiss her good night, tell her loves her, and offer the whole world to her. They would exchange vows and promise themselves a lifelong commitment to be by each other’s side through sickness and in health, and only in death would they part.

“Willow!”

You let out a shriek as the reins slipped from your grasp, causing you to tumble off the saddle and crash onto the ground. The impact was first felt in your elbow, and a sharp, searing pain then radiated through your body. There you lay, sprawled on the dirt, helplessly watching Willow galloping out of control up the mountain, and then tragically plummeting off a cliff.

“Nooo! Willow, no!”

Utter hysteria overtook you. You sobbed uncontrollably, unable to determine which pain was more agonizing—the clearly broken elbow, the loss of the horse you had inadvertently led to its death, or the heart-wrenching reality of Satoru starting a family with someone else.

You were pathetic. You were such a pathetic excuse of a human being and this was why you deserve hell.

“Willow!”

Toji couldn’t love you. Your own son didn’t want to be around you. Satoru had gotten over you. And now, you drove a poor innocent horse to its demise because of your recklessness!

You were crying hysterically as you held your pained elbow, crawling by the cliff’s edge as you screamed for your horse’s name, but in the end, there was nothing you could do. You could only apologize to poor Willow for having such an irresponsible owner, and now she was dead because of you. 16 years of her life, she was able to live in peace until you came and ruined it all for her. It should have been you. You were the one who should have jumped off a cliff. You should atone for your sins and follow her, but you were too weak, far to overcome by the excruciating pain on your hip and your broken elbow to move or do anything at all.

That was, until your mind had completely shut down, leaving you as a mere body to be discarded alone in the darkness of the woods. You hoped that no one else would find you soon.

— —

“A-Angina?” Satoru’s eyes went wide. His whole world stopped before him.

“Yes. She was diagnosed with stable angina,” Dr. Mori confirmed, much to your husband’s horror. “But there is another factor that requires her to have more rest. You need to take good care of your wife, Mr. Gojou. Her body needs a lot of nutrients so she can carry safely.”

He could barely process the whole thing in his head because the news kept coming one after another, leaving him in a befuddled state with a flood of unanswered questions running through his mind. “What do you mean…?”

“Your wife is seven weeks pregnant.”

…

“Y/N?”

“Y/N!”

“Are you out of your mind?!”

You could barely pry your eyes open, but when you finally managed to, you were met with the concerned expression on Gen’s face. The harsh glare of fluorescent lights and the antiseptic scent confirmed to you that you were in the ER, likely an hour or two after the incident in the woods. The memory of the trail quickly flooded your thoughts, and a pang of sorrow gripped your heart as you recalled Willow's final moments before she fell off the cliff. The poor horse had lost her life, while the one responsible for her tragic death remained alive, save for the bandage wrapped around your arm.

“Why did you ride into the woods alone?” Gen persisted with her barrage of questions, standing by your bed as you attempted to sit up. “Are you suicidal or what? Riding your horse in a dangerous trail like that—”

“You know what, maybe I should have just died back there!” you snapped, wincing from the pain in your elbow. Her choice of words struck a nerve in you. “Maybe I’d prefer that over sitting here, listening to your sanctimonious lecture like you're so perfect yourself! How obnoxious.”

“Then, maybe you shouldn’t be riding so recklessly and causing alarm to everyone else!”

“Did I literally ask you to come save me?!”

The atmosphere around you two just became even more uninviting, with discomfiting silence seeping through as you and Gen were engaged in a sharp glaring contest. Your father stood behind her, clearing his throat to cut the tension.

“That’s enough, Gen.” Your dad placed a hand on her shoulder, and although she wanted to protest, she knew better not to keep stirring the pot after receiving his strict gaze. “Let’s just be thankful your sister is safe. There’s no need to be so overwhelming.”

You rolled your eyes, drawing in a deep breath before you looked away from them. None of them would ever understand your pain unless they were in your position. They didn’t carry the same baggage as you, so they would never fully comprehend the weight of your suffering. You had already dealt with similar pain on your own before and that was why you didn’t need any of them to come to your aid, meddling with your life like they knew exactly what you were going through. “Just leave me alone, you guys. I wanna rest.”

Since when did your relationship with your sister start to get rough? It wasn’t really like this before, but ever since she started to become too overprotective over you and your choices in life, particularly choices linked to Satoru, Gen had started to become insufferable in your eyes. She was acting too much like a mother; controlling your decisions, lecturing you about your personal relationships, being too involved with your private life. There, ever since that, you started to distance yourself from her, and she didn’t like that. Her stubbornness wouldn’t allow her to cease acting like this mature, picture perfect big sister to you.

With that said, Gen would have normally gotten annoyed when you asked them to leave you alone, but this time around, she seemed to have reflected on her insensitivity a lot better with your father around. “I’m sorry, okay?” she said, her tone still tinged with stubbornness, “I just got worried. I don’t know what’s gotten into you to put yourself in danger like that, but… please, Y/N. If you’re going through something, you can always speak to us. Dad and I, we’re here for you.”

To be fair, if you had to put yourself in their shoes, it really would have been alarming to know that your sister almost died. This wasn’t the first time you were at death’s door either, so they were probably scared shitless when they were informed of your situation. Your absolutely reckless situation. You didn’t mean to cause a scene, neither did you intend to bother them on their already busy schedules. You just had so many things in your mind while you were horseback riding, too engulfed by your own sorrow that you didn’t realize the repercussions after the incident had already taken place.

“I’m sorry, too.” Your voice softened with humility. “I didn’t mean to worry you guys. It was just really an accident.”

Of course, Gen suspected it was more than just an accident. Your dad did, too. It was obvious on their forlorn faces that they were worried for your mental and emotional well-being, but none of them dared address the elephant in the room. It seemed they didn’t need to, anyway, since one of the many reasons that contributed to your earlier breakdown took a peek from behind the curtains, clearing his throat and sending you a look of sympathy.

“Y/N?” Toji looked at your father and your sister for approval before stepping further inside your space in the ER. “Can I talk to you?”

There was no escaping Toji’s presence anymore. No more hiding, no more avoiding. You knew you had to have this talk with him no matter how many times you ignored his flood of texts and calls. While this may have struck as an opportune moment for him to speak to you in person, facing the painful truth of your situation weighed heavily on you. Besides, hadn’t the irony presented itself right there? If Satoru were the one trying to speak to you, even if he was the father of your child, Gen would have been quick to lash out at him. Yet with Toji, even with the general knowledge of what had transpired between you two, your sister still showed no hostility towards him, allowing him to approach you freely and without interference.

But then again, Toji was far from being a cheating, manipulative scumbag who not only caused you suffering but also sought to selfishly acquire your family’s company. Therefore, he wasn’t considered a threat.

Alright, then. Since Toji genuinely wasn’t a threat to your current emotional state, you agreed to talk with him. It was the first time you had seen the not-so-confident side of Toji Zen’in. He was typically a man of virtue, often holding his chin high, offering the best advice, and having insightful perspectives on life. However, it seemed you had shattered that confidence in him. You could sense his cautiousness around you as he stood by your side in the ER, assisting you with your needs, and eventually agreeing to your request to walk you to the rooftop garden.

“I don’t really think there’s anything else we should talk about.” It was you who first broke the silence, staring at the cityscape while sitting on a wheelchair. The calm breeze allowed your mind to seize the moment with a peaceful mind. “I already heard what you had to say.”

Toji found it better to kneel down in front of you to meet your eyes as he spoke to you in a sincere and earnest voice. “Y/N, I was drunk when I said all that shit back there. I didn’t mean them. I didn’t mean to hurt you with my callous words, and I feel awful that you had to hear them from me. You trusted me. You sought comfort from me. I wasn’t thinking like a normal person when those things came out of my mouth.”

“That doesn’t mean they weren’t true,” you replied with quiet resignation. It was the acceptance in your face that seemed to have caused Toji’s heartbroken gaze. “It’s okay, Toji. I think, when you said all those things, it actually made me realize some aspects of our relationship that had to be addressed. It made me more self-aware and it opened my eyes on the bigger picture.” You touched his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze as you mustered the courage to speak your next words. “It’s for the best that we part ways. It’s not fair to me to become a placeholder for your wife the same way it isn’t fair to you to have to deal with my ex-husband always being present in my life. Our unresolved feelings won’t really be resolved by being together.”

“Y/N…” Toji’s voice hinted at his vulnerable emotions, though he restrained himself from showing it fully. And you didn’t miss the apologetic look he had presented to you. “Despite all that, I hope you know that I’d been true to you. I do love you and will always love you. I’ll always be someone you can rely on, someone you can seek comfort from, someone you can turn to when you need help…”

Damn it. Why did he have to make it sound like an actual break up? Now, it tugged at your heartstrings and hit you in a place it shouldn’t have. You weren’t good at these things and it certainly was your first time dealing with such a mature and mutual separation, but wasn’t that a good thing? No further drama was to happen, leaving a stark comparison to your separation with Satoru. While this one didn’t hurt as much, it still brought a hollow feeling in your chest.

“Same for me,” you agreed, displaying a weak smile. “You’ll always have a spot in my heart, Toji. I’ll always be grateful that I met you.”

Sometimes, two people didn’t need to be together to love each other. Friendships could still thrive between ex-lovers, and that was why closure was so important. It not only closed a certain chapter of your life in a healthy way, but also allowed you to heal and open yourselves to a new beginning without any bitterness left behind.

It shouldn’t be considered bad to remain friends with an ex. It also shouldn’t be bad to give a parting kiss from said ex, right?

You weren’t the one who initiated it, after all. It was Toji’s hand that gently stroked your cheek. It was him, who leaned forward and pressed his lips onto yours. It wasn’t forceful, but neither was it passionate. It was simply a tender kiss of goodbye, feeling the warmth of each other’s lips for one last time before you two would transition from being lovers to friends. What you didn’t understand from this supposedly bittersweet moment was the faint tears that somehow managed to escape your eyes, perhaps because you knew that once Toji left, you would be alone again.

You had no one by your side to love you, cherish you, choose you, and offer their entire world for you. You were meant to live this cruel world all by yourself.

As he pulled away, he pressed his forehead against yours. “Please learn to love yourself before anyone else, Y/N. It’s what you need and what you deserve.”

That night, while you were getting your MRI, your mind kept flying to the possibilities of a future without having anyone by your side. Any normal person would tell you to focus on loving yourself first, as Toji did recently, focusing on what matters most, and ridding yourself of the toxic things that hinder you from moving forward with your life. Things weren’t as easy as they sounded. Besides, it was different being on the receiving end of the said advice. How could you do those things when the primary cause of your pain was someone whose life would always be linked to yours forever?

Based on the result of your MRI scans, your doctor recommended that you undergo elbow arthroscopy. It was just a minimally invasive procedure compared to open surgeries, but considering how much of an overthinker your dad was when it came to your health, he insisted on your confinement at the hospital until you had been completely cleared of any other issues. He really placed a big deal on your condition and emphasized to the doctors that they make sure nothing was missed. It could have been worse; you could have had a broken hip or a fractured leg, but at least you only had a dislocated elbow. Nothing that couldn’t be easily corrected by surgery and physical therapy.

The decision was for you to stay there for two days, and on your first night, a crying Sachiro ran inside your private room because his ‘mama has a boo boo’. Gen said he was picked up from daycare and dropped off at the hospital because the poor kid was looking for you. She didn’t mention who dropped your son off to you, but you could tell it was Satoru. You could sense it by the glances she exchanged with Ian after you asked how Sachiro came to the hospital.

So, in that case, Satoru must have found out about your little incident and didn’t care enough to see you. Did he not even have an ounce of care anymore? Or was it Gen who stopped him from seeing you?

“Did you ask him to leave?” you confronted Gen in a mellow voice, rubbing Sachiro’s back as he snuggled into you on the hospital bed.

Your sister knew exactly which man you were referring to, and she denied having done such. “No, I didn’t even talk to him. He took Sachi here and left.”

You didn’t know why you looked at Ian to confirm the truth of his wife’s words, but hurt yourself upon seeing his bowed head. It was an apologetic expression that did signify your ex-husband’s blatant act of ignoring you. To hear about your near-death experience and simply leave without even checking on you should be your wake-up call. He didn’t care anymore. No, why should he care? He had Akemi. His only responsibility with you was to be a supportive father to your son.

Why did the pain in your heart feel far more agonizing than the discomfort on your dislocated elbow?

If anything, you wanted to ask for the strongest anesthetic they could offer to numb your pain. You were desperate to have anything even if they had to put you into an eternal sleep. That would have been much easier to deal with than feeling disregarded by a person you supposedly had moved on from. Satoru did nothing wrong here. It was you who had that expectation, only to disappoint yourself when things didn’t happen as you imagined.

And just when you thought things would get better as long as you ignore your torturous thoughts, it didn’t help that being in the hospital kept giving you flashbacks of the time you were in this exact room, hearing Satoru crying helplessly from outside and begging for you not to terminate his child. What comes around certainly goes back around. Or worse.

Such depressive thoughts had you occupied throughout your stay there, and your unusual placidness alarmed the nurses instead of being assured that you were doing well. You heard your doctors telling your father and sister to always keep a close eye on you as the incident may not seem serious, but the trauma would undoubtedly be present somewhere and somehow. Were they aware? Of your intrusive thoughts of wanting to hurt yourself?

The elbow arthroscopy was successful and by the second day, you were free to go home. You were placed on certain medications to help with the swelling and the pain, and while you were walking around the hospital with a listless mind, you happened to pass by the Obstetrics and Gynecology Department. What a deja vu it was, remembering the time you had seen Satoru there waiting outside for Sera. Back then, it was one of the climactic events in your life that led to a domino effect on the downfall of your marriage. Not that you were reminiscing, but it did remind you that Shoko was probably there in her consultation room and it would be nice to talk to a friend who had witnessed the wild history of your marriage.

You asked Gen to wait for you in the car while you headed to Ieiri’s consultation room, assuring your visibly worried sister that everything was fine and that you wouldn’t take too long. You had to give Gen some slack, because despite the strains in your relationship as sisters, she was still always there for you. At the end of the day, she was family.

Shoko, on the other hand, was the next closest thing you had for a sister. She welcomed you inside her room in a very worried embrace, telling you that if she had known about the incident, she would have gone straight to your hospital room on your first day, but you told her not to worry about it and understood that being in the medical field already had her schedule tight.

“Well, I guess it’s perfect that you’re here, too.” Shoko smiled warmly, sitting behind her desk. She had exciting news to offer, it seemed. “I just wanna say that… of course, I’ll still be sending you a formal invitation and everything. I actually have a few gifts along with it.”

You shared her enthusiasm. “Hmm… is it what I think it is?”

The wedding. The most eventful day of her life would be arriving soon and you were the first one to hear it.

“Yes!” she answered, with the utmost joy coruscating from her eyes. “I want you to be my maid-of-honor, Y/N. I’d be extremely happy if you could make it. I know you just got into an accident, but it won’t be until two months, so—”

“Hey, it’s okay.” You eased her worries by chuckling. “I’m completely fine, of course I’ll be there. I can’t miss it.”

Shoko was grateful to hear your answer, relieved even, because by asking you to be her maid-of-honor, you should already understand who Suguru’s best man would be. That was a touchy subject for you and she was keenly aware of it, but you didn’t want her to worry. You didn’t want your relationship with your ex-husband to have a negative impact on the relationship of all the other people surrounding the both of you. It was already bad enough that Shoko and Suguru almost called off their engagement after they fought over their morals as you and Satoru’s friends, and you were glad that they somehow made things work. They somehow set aside their disagreements and ultimately chose their love over anything else.

Their love was beautiful, and while that wasn’t something you could easily have, it was something you deeply admired.

“Where are you guys planning to hold your wedding?” you asked, steering the conversation away from any mention of your ex-husband. “Here or overseas?”

She delighted you with her answer, sounding as if this was the perfect wedding she had always dreamed of. “It’s an intimate wedding on the lakeside. Suguru chose the location, actually, since he wanted our wedding to have the view of Mount Fuji.”

“That’s perfect,” you said with wide eyes. “Lake Kawaguchiko?”

“Yep. That’s exactly where it’d be.” She smiled with her eyes. “You know this resort… Hoshinoya Fuji? We already booked the place, and we have a luxury cabin for friends and families to stay at.”

You had been there before, but you were too young to remember. All you knew was that it was a high-end resort that had the best panoramic views of Lake Kawaguchiko and Mount Fuji. The hotel owner was also a close friend of the Gojou family, so that was probably why they were able to rent the entire place for the wedding, especially at a peak season for tourists.

Since the fall season was arriving, you could only imagine the stunning views of the autumn foliage there. It offered the perfect weather, too. It wouldn’t be as hot as summer, nor as freezing as winter. Surely, it would be nice to do some nature walks and stargazing, maybe ride a boat or bathe in a hot spring. You looked forward to it, except for the fact that your ex-husband would also be there.

And just what a perfect timing it was, because as Shoko sorted through her patients' medical records above her desk, a file slipped from the pile, revealing the name of your very friend, Akemi.

“Oh,” Shoko murmured apologetically as she retrieved the record, not wanting to ruin the mood of your conversation. “She, uh, came by a few days ago... with Gojou.”

You didn’t need to ask. You didn’t need to hear any further detail. Akemi’s visit likely revolved around her desire to conceive, as she wouldn’t have visited Shoko otherwise. Why? If it were simply to monitor her polycystic ovary, why did she choose Shoko instead of her own gynecologist? Thinking of how your ex-husband and best friend were attempting to start a family together left your heart shattered in unimaginable pieces, stirring up painful memories of your pathetic marriage with Satoru and reopening old wounds you thought had already healed from. Wasn’t it ironic that a couple of years ago, you were crying over the same situation with Sera?

You couldn’t stand this feeling anymore. You thought you had already freed yourself from the pain of loving him, yet here you were suffering from the same heartbreak over and over and over again. Tears threatened to spill, but you held them back, the ache in your chest too raw to confront just yet.

“It’s funny.” Although you displayed an outward smile, the sadness in your voice reflected your otherwise inward thoughts. You didn’t know why you said that. You were just too… too emotional. Almost like you couldn’t breathe. “He was never this passionate with me. They seem so in love.”

Ieiri’s eyes carried sisterly concern in them. “Y/N, it’s not really what you think.”

Was it? You weren’t sure what to feel anymore. You certainly weren't there to hear it anymore, either. Satoru chose her, just like what you wanted for him to do. Just like what you asked him to do. He had moved on, he had found someone who would love him for who he was, he had chosen the woman he would share the rest of his future with. Call yourself ridiculous for even feeling hurt about it, because you had no right to be and you definitely chose this. Either you own up to it, or you cry about it for the rest of your life.

Both choices had no happy endings.

— —

When Satoru learned about your incident in the woods, he thought he was going to lose his mind.

Was it out of love that he swiftly left the office in the middle of a meeting just to get to where you were?

He still had to pick up Sachiro from daycare, and he felt bad telling his son on the way to the hospital that his mother was hurt. It actually gave Satoru a hard time explaining to the 3-year old that they had to go to the hospital because his mommy was there and that she had an unfortunate encounter while riding a horse.

“Dada, is… is mama okay?” Sachiro pouted with wide, tearful eyes as he clung to his father’s hand. “Sachi wants to go to mama!”

“She’ll be okay, Sachi.” Gojou carried his son and soothed him as they went inside the hospital, searching for you. “Mommy’s strong, remember?”

Was it out of love that he wanted to be the person that brought your son to you when you most needed him?

According to the nurse, your room was on the seventh floor, but when he got there, your room was empty. It was Ian who told him that you went up the rooftop garden to get some fresh air, insisting that if Satoru wanted to go and talk to you, that it was best to leave Sachiro with them.

And so he did. He ran hastily, almost out of breath, until he reached the rooftop, scanning every face within the vicinity until his tired blue eyes finally landed on you.

Satoru laughed in disbelief. He scoffed bitterly, with each breath full of disgust. The tips of his fingers felt cold, while his breathing grew thin and ragged. He could feel his stomach clenching at the humiliation of seeing you engaged in an intimate make-out session with Toji Zen’in.

How sickeningly sweet.

At that point, he was laughing at his own expense, ignoring the elderly lady who looked at him like he was a crazy person. He stood there frozen for a few minutes, watching you kiss another man before it finally woke him up from reality.

It was out of love that he let you go.

You see? This was where his attachment to you would lead him. It was pure and unreasonable selfishness, but he would gain nothing at all from even seeing you. He didn’t need to care for you at all, no. You had Toji. You seemed to be goddamn happy with your life with Toji. And what a romantic fucking moment that was, too.

Satoru couldn’t think straight when he hurriedly left the hospital and got inside his car. He desperately wanted to forget the painful image of you locking lips with somebody else. How? How would he? Fuck! He was mad, mad at himself for choosing to come to your aid like he still had any role in your life. He was disgusted at himself for ignoring Akemi’s calls after promising her a movie date after work. He couldn’t believe he had her waiting all by herself in that cinema, waiting for him to come while he was stupidly running around the hospital to see his ex-wife.

You chose Toji, then you better be happy. Satoru hoped you were happy, and that wish came from a place of genuineness. He genuinely hoped the best for you. Because for him, it was time to fully let go and stop himself from trying to be the superhero whenever you were in danger. You weren’t his wife anymore.

So, was it out of love that he headed straight to Akemi’s apartment that night with a bouquet of red roses?

She didn’t know what happened nor was she given the full detail as to why he unintentionally stood her up on their date night. He had just briefly explained that he had to drop Sachiro off to you at a hospital because you got into a small accident. Akemi, being your friend, got immediately worried upon hearing the situation and asked if Satoru was able to check on you.

He said no. He said Toji was there. He said he left as soon as dropped Sachiro off.

And in an effort to apologize for not paying attention to the current woman in his life, Satoru pulled Akemi in a tight embrace. He held her in her arms, drunk from the sweet and citrusy notes of her perfume, before pulling away to kiss her. He kissed her with the same passion as you did with Toji. Perhaps even more, even better. He completely devoured her lips, with a hand on her cheek and the other on her waist. The taste of her tongue was sweet like strawberries, while her lips were red like cherries.

This woman was all he needed.

But was this love? He didn’t know. It was too soon to tell, too early to answer, too hasty to even consider.

— —

The current situation you were in reminded you of your younger self after your mother had died. It was the same before; you never left the house, often locking yourself in your room, shutting yourself off from the world, and drowning yourself with the pain and loneliness of losing somebody important.

Sure, no one really died for you to be acting this way right now, but the feeling was still the same. Was this really a comeuppance to all of your wrongdoings before? But just how terrible were you of a person to be hit by this unbelievable truckload of sorrow? You might as well spur on the physical pains of your angina again if this torment continued. Otherwise, how else do you avoid it?

You were being a terrible mother, too. You were too engrossed by your own misery that you couldn’t even properly take care of Sachiro. He didn’t deserve to have an incompetent and irresponsible mother like you. He deserves someone better, someone like Akemi, who not only has all the motherly traits a woman should have, but also the physical and mental capacity of being a true, strong woman.

Sachiro was bound to have that, anyway. Now that his father was planning his lifelong journey with another woman, and now that he was trying to build a happy family with her, you were no longer needed in the picture. There was no need for you.

How many more times would you tell that you have accepted it?

Because, god be damned, you knew you couldn’t. You knew you were lying to yourself when you said everything was fine, lying to Satoru when you told him you didn’t need him in your life anymore, lying to Toji for telling him that you wanted to marry him, lying to Akemi that you didn’t care if she was seeing your ex-husband, and lying to Sachiro when you promised to him that you would never leave his side. You were a liar. A terrible liar. A pitiful, terrible liar.

How would you tell the universe that you couldn’t take it anymore? That, for once, you wanted to be showered by happiness and all the good things in life?

Sera was right. Not everyone could have it all. There were people of lesser fortune who weren’t blessed to live a lavish life like you, yet still work hard to achieve what they want. Why couldn't you achieve your own happiness without blaming it on the universe? If this was simply a lesson, then weren’t you the top student at this rate?

God. God, help me. You really didn’t know how to deal with this life anymore. You weren’t sure how to proceed. You couldn’t rely on anything other than the bottle of alcohol on your hand—what was once full was now half empty after you took another swig. This was your second bottle already, wasn’t it? Or third?

You got up from the floor and failed to walk in a straight line as you made your way towards the balcony. Your steps were unsteady, wavering like a leaf caught in a gentle breeze. With each attempt to move forward, your body swayed from side to side, struggling to maintain balance. You almost lost grip of the bottle you were holding. No, it did, in fact, slip from your hand and ended up crashing into the floor. Shards of glass lay across the ground, ready to pierce the soles of your feet to mirror the same physical pain your heart was experiencing.

“Stop,” you muttered under your breath, begging for your chest to stop hurting. But it only worsened, and your antidote to that was to wash it down with even more liquor. No matter how expensive it was, you didn’t even like the taste of alcohol. You hated the sting on your throat whenever you drank it. You despised the bitterness it left on your tongue. However, it did great at numbing your emotions.

It just felt wrong in many ways that you were seeing Satoru’s face whenever you closed your eyes. You could see his smile, his loving eyes, his beautiful lips. You missed his embrace, his kiss, his touch. You missed hearing his I love you’s. Him. You missed him. You yearned for him. Three goddamn years, and you were still undeniably in love with him.

“Satoru…” you cried, sitting on the floor. Each breath made it harder and harder for you to catch as tears continued to stream down your face. You were tired of pretending, denying that you no longer had feelings for him when you knew deep down that you would always choose him. “S-Satoru… come back to me, please.”

Was it him coming inside your room? Or was it your vision making a fool out of you?

“Baby, what are you doing?” Satoru’s expression was engulfed in immense worry as he knelt down and reached out to you, touching your cheek and looking at your eyes somberly. “Don’t do this yourself, Y/N.”

Your head hung low, your gaze unfocused and glazed, as you fought to keep your eyes on the path ahead. You had to reach him. You wanted to touch him, hug him. And despite your best efforts, your movements were disjointed and erratic, betraying the effects of the alcohol coursing through your veins.

“Y/N, that’s enough.” Gen had to use force just to be able to snatch the bottle away from you, forcing you to wake up to the reality where Satoru no longer existed to be there for you. It was her who came rushing inside your room in the middle of the night. The bottle of liquor was now spilled all over the floor. The same could be described with your emotions. “Get it together. You haven’t been acting like yourself lately!”

You couldn’t, even if you wanted to. You were in delirium after having dealt with all the terrible things the world had thrown at you. If you couldn’t drown yourself in alcohol, how else would you have been able to numb the pain? How else would you have been able to… forget?

As much as your sister tried to hide the obvious sympathy in her voice, even your drunken mind could recognize it. “We all know you’re going down the depression lane again, but never to this extent.” Her voice cracked in the middle of her sentence, cradling you into her arms as a tear fell down her face. The Gen who would usually lecture you, was now holding you in her arms as her only baby sister. “Stop this, Y/N, please. Don’t ruin your life the second time. I-It’s hurting me. It’s hurting Dad. Do you… do you realize what Sachiro’s gonna think of you when he sees you like this?”

“Gen…” Muffled sobs unwillingly came out of you, leaving you with such excruciating pain in the chest, so much so that it didn’t even feel like you had done surgery to fix your (quite literally) broken heart. “I w-want him back,” you continued to cry, “I want my husband back. I want to be with h-him, Gen.”

“Y/N.”

“Where’s S-Satoru…? D-Did he leave? Please take me to him—”

“Y/N, listen to me.” She gently cupped your cheeks, forcing you to look at her pained eyes. “You’re intoxicated. He was never here, and he’d never come for you. You have to let it go.”

“But—”

“He’s not good for you. He never will be.”

— —

It had been two weeks since Satoru last heard about you. Miwa was the one who updated him that you had already returned to your family’s mansion, letting him know that you were okay and that you were recovering well. Frankly, Satoru was starting to get annoyed at the fact that his secretary was still giving him updates about you. What did he care? He wasn’t your husband anymore.

Besides, Toji was probably visiting you every day, so why did he have to worry about you? If there was anyone he should be worried about, it was Akemi. She had been experiencing terrible pelvic cramps lately, which needed to be given serious attention, but you would never see her being dramatic about it. The only thing she needed was for Gojou to accompany her visits to the OB-GYN, and even then, she never showered herself in self-pity. She carried herself like an independent woman, and that was exactly what Satoru needed in his life right now.

He had a son to raise. He had a company to run. It wasn’t the perfect time to commit himself to someone lawfully. Heck, he didn’t even believe in marriage anymore. He realized that two people could still love each other without getting married. As long as Akemi didn’t pressure him about such things, he was fine with having her around. She didn’t ask for anything much, anyway.

As for you, well…

“What are you planning with that mansion you gifted Y/N?” asked Nanami, seated on the couch inside Satoru’s office, casually reading a newspaper. “Do you even remember that?”

He certainly did. “What about it?” he questioned, idly toying with a pen on his desk. “It’s her property now. She can sell it if she wants.”

Better yet, you should let Sachiro inherit the property someday. His son was already set for a life of privilege having wealthy parents on both sides, but wouldn’t the mansion be a substantial addition to his assets in the future? Satoru couldn’t help but envision the kind of man his son would grow up into. He hoped Sachiro would not inherit his father's immaturity and pettiness but would embody the kindness and altruism of his mother. From a business perspective, however, Satoru planned to groom his son to be a leader, as he was the sole heir to the Gojou Group. Additionally, he would also inherit half of Creston and the entirety of Hearte. No wonder Sachiro was recently listed as the wealthiest kid by Forbes Japan. He even beat Megumi Zen’in from the list even though the teenager was the heir of the Zen’in business empire.

These were the thoughts that should consume Satoru—the future, not the past. His kid, not you. And he was right about doing so, because when he came home to his penthouse, he was told that he had a visitor.

A visitor on a Wednesday afternoon?

Your brother-in-law, the esteemed prosecutor who sent his evil stepmother to jail, appeared on his front door, carrying Sachiro in his arms. It was hard to tell what type of emotions were visible on the man’s face, but he definitely didn’t bring any good news.

“Ian?” Satoru promptly made way for the man to come in, ushering him into the penthouse and allowing him to set Sachiro down. The young boy was quick to dart off to his playroom, leaving the two men in an uncomfortable silence. “What’s going on? Weekends are usually my schedule with Sachi.”

Ian cleared his throat, a hand on his pocket. “Do you mind looking after Sachiro for the time being?”

By saying ‘for the time being’, it seemed like Ian wanted to actually say ‘until further notice.’ But that confused Satoru even more, because what was happening for the man to come here and ask him to let Sachiro stay beyond the agreed schedule with his father? He couldn’t read through Ian’s expression and it was making him uneasy.

“I can, but… why so suddenly?” Gojou asked, glancing at his oblivious son.

“It’s Y/N’s idea, Gen doesn’t know about it.” Ian released an awkward chuckle. “You know how my wife is.”

Gen would absolutely hate it, Satoru was aware for sure. Though the questions lingered in his mind. “Why would Y/N want Sachi to stay with me? Where’s she?”

Was it him or was Ian having a hard time explaining the situation? It felt like he was walking on eggshells, deciding between what had to be said and what shouldn’t. He was careful with his words when he spoke again, “Y/N flew to Monaco this morning and will be back when she’s ready. She says Sachiro should spend all of his time with you while she’s gone.”

Monaco? Why would you be there?

Confusion bathed Satoru’s eyes. “Is it for a fashion event or something?”

“No, she’s just…” Ian struggled heavily. “Well, to sum it up, she has to go there to sort some things out. It’s a personal thing, but she really needs this time for herself and we think it’s the best for her right now. I don’t know how long she’s gonna stay there or when she’ll be back, but I hope you understand what I’m trying to say here.”

No, he didn’t. Satoru found it difficult to fathom his ex-brother-in-law’s words, seeing as he had no general idea of what was truly going on. But if you were flying to Monaco, surely Toji wouldn’t allow you to go there all by yourself?

Ahh. It made sense now. I see what’s happening here.

Satoru’s lips curled into sarcasm. You would be vacationing with the love of your life. Is that what it was? Planning your halted wedding? Choosing wedding gowns? Looking for venues? There was no way you would be flying to Monaco alone, especially without Sachiro around when you two had been inseparable since his birth.

“What kinda mother is she?” Satoru muttered in disgust, unaware that Ian had overheard him. But Ian had heard loud and clear. How could you leave your son behind like this? Couldn’t you face your ex-husband to discuss it, instead of just dropping Sachiro off as if he were some unwanted toy?

“Hold it right there,” Ian interjected, becoming defensive at the accusation. “You have no idea what she’s going through.”

How would he know? No one was telling him shit. No one was giving him details, so did they expect him to understand things and accept them as they were? Did they do the same thing to Satoru when he was at the verge of losing his sanity asking everyone for forgiveness over and over?

“I've never taken sides between you two, Satoru, you know that,” Ian continued, trying to maintain a calm demeanor and speak with clear judgment, “But one thing I’m not gonna let you do is call Y/N a bad mother.”

Satoru’s chest tightened at Ian's words, a mixture of guilt and frustration bubbling up inside him. He knew he shouldn’t have spoken out of turn, but the pain and resentment were too raw to contain. It felt like you were abandoning him and your child, like you were off to a new chapter in your life again, and leaving everything behind. Perhaps this was his trauma from the New York thing crawling back at him, but it definitely reminded him of the day you had abandoned him. For three fucking years. How long would it take you to return now?

Why do you keep doing this? He was sick of it. You kept running away instead of talking to him. He gets it, people change, circumstances change, but couldn’t you at least have the decency to talk to him about it? Was it wrong for him to wish you’d handled this differently? To wish that you’d talked to him, involved him in the decision-making process, instead of just making this unilateral decision and leaving him to pick up the pieces?

Satoru took a moment, collecting his thoughts before continuing. “It’s fine, I’ll take care of Sachi,” he reassured, “I’ll take some time off work and have ‘Kemi help me out.”

He looked back at Ian, his eyes pleading for further details, for answers, for some semblance of clarity in the midst of this emotional turmoil.

Yet none of it was given.

And so, would it still be wrong to assume that he could now completely forget about you? That this opportunity to be with Sachiro would allow him a chance to share it with someone else? If you spent three years of your life playing house in New York with Toji, would it still be unfair for Satoru to do the same with Akemi?

#series: sincerely yours #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo angst #jjk angst

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bywons · 2 months

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୨୧ KISS IT BETTER — n. riki

pairing. badboy!nishimura riki x f!reader w.c. 0.8k tw/cw. mentions of fighting, nicknames, kissing genre. highschool au, non idol au, fluff feedbacks and reblogs are always appreciated!

sru's note! niki my cutest boy >.<

m.list ⏐ requests are open! ⏐ navi

the youngster winces at the cool sensation of ice against the fresh bruise, blooming red and blue under his skin.

but what's hurting him even more than the burning bruise on his left cheek, are the eyes of the girl pressing an ice pack to it. your reddening hurt eyes, brimming with tears which are threatening to spill onto your flushed cheeks, a result of crying earlier.

but the reason? nishimura riki, your boyfriend, showing up with bruises and cuts all over for the third time this week at your favourite rendezvous point— behind the small cozy bungalow of the old 'cat lady' in town, who almost never came out.

"you promised riki", your voice shakes, the delicate heart of yours no longer being able to withstand the sight of your lover's wounds and gloomy expression, "then why?"

"ya won't get it princess", riki breathes out the nickname for you so smoothly, utterly believing at the complete vanishing of your subdued anger.

but instead a gasp leaves riki's mouth at the sudden absence of the cool, relaxing and alleviating sensation from the sore bruise. riki's frown deepens and a cute pout forms on his tough face when he lifts his head to look at you.

"i won't get it? i won't get it?!", you scoff at his words and abruptly remove the ice pack from his bruise, "how do you expect me to not get it when the bruises are basically 'cause of me!"

"don't you blame yourself now!", riki's fast to get protective, even if it means to protect you from yourself.

however, you weren't entirely wrong, as everyone who mocked or insulted you for any reason was forced to smile and greet you after riki entered your life-frame. their change, while good, was involuntary on their part. nishimura riki was the main change brought in.

he'd often get his knuckles bruised and crimson, not hesitating to land punches on faces you didn't like. riki was known around the school campus for being reckless as heck, he knew it too, so doubtlessly he didn't mind adding the point, "protecting my girlfriend", to his list of becoming even more reckless.

but he forgets that he's getting punched back, getting wounded up too just to make his girl sweat.

"riki", the way his name slips out of your kissable lips and the way it sounds so dulcet, but it repels your glossy eyes and a frown full of worry.

and riki's heart aches again.

"y'know i hate seeing you like this! y'know i don't like you getting hurt," the ice pack falls on your lap with a sigh leaving your mouth.

"it's only for your good, love. don't like those people near you—"

"they've stopped hurting me riki!", you sigh again, placing your hand ever so softly on his cheek, "you've done enough for me."

"hmmm", riki hums in relaxation and melts into your touch, tilting his head onto your hands, secretly wishing your touch would linger around forever.

"it still kinda burns", riki pouts, pointing towards his bruise on his cheek still crimson and puffy, "kiss it better?"

despite of dating the boy for nearly a year now, he's always catching you off guard, even with his immense love for you. like right now, when he decides to sacrifice his already worn out school trousers to the dusty earth covered by dry birches leaves, without hesitation. riki makes you sit above it though, upon a makeshift chair out of an unfinished wooden rack in the backyard.

it was moments like this when a genuine smile played on your lips, and you know riki's the one.

with a shy smile and coloured cheeks, you lean down to your boyfriend sitting on the ground, to press a feathery kiss to his bruise and heal in some magical way for him.

you pull away quickly worried that if you press your lips any harder, it may hurt him.

"now this one?", riki smirks, pointing to another bruise painting his skin purple. this one dangerously close to his lips, lying on the corners.

"you cheeky!", it's refreshing for riki to see you giggle again, the dry tear-stricken cheeks of yours elevating to laugh.

you lean down, this time cupping his soft face and bringing it closer to you. and just when your plump lips brush against the corner of his, riki moves his face in a way that his lips meet yours. into a sudden, yet endearing kiss.

your eyes widen after the kiss, shocked eyes meeting riki's proud and smug ones.

"promise me", you whisper as your eyes travel around the recent and previous marks and cuts on rikis face, "you'll never fight again."

"can't promise something like that angel," riki scoffs, taking your hands in his, and softly pressing his lips against your knuckles.

"hey riki—!"

"but that's alright, you'll kiss it better every time, yeah?"

taglist: open! CLICK ON THE LINK TO BE ADDED!

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winterarmyy · 5 months

Text

My Person

A series of random Bucky Drabbles that I can't let go but don't have the brain to make the whole complete plot of.

Summary: In which Sam's question forces Bucky to reveal his true feelings to his so called "friend", Y/N.

Pairing: tfatws!bucky x female!reader

Words: 3.2k++

Warnings: 18+ content, no minors allowed, nsfw, fluff, wee bit of angst, bucky is so adorable in this I WANT HIM SO BAD, also he is a bit feral. I feel like he can be more feral than this but you know, he doesn't wanna scare her away lol. This is just a result from surge of need so might not be too much of plot but I hope you enjoy your reading, anyway.

Inspiration: This post right here by @black-cat-2

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Sam took notice on every single crooks and corners as he followed Bucky's dragging footsteps from behind. It wasn't that he didn't want to help him but Bucky refused the offer right on the bat, saying that the serum will fix him up sooner or later.

The aftermath of their final battle with the flagsmasher was chaotic to say the least. With the splitting sides of public opinions of the new Captain America and the whispers about how the former winter soldier saved a bunch of civilian tonight had been the talk of the town.

But both Sam and Bucky decided not to think of it too much, especially when both were exhausted from the fight. Not to mention Bucky was injured. Although Sam knew damn well that the soldier can managed himself to a hotel to rest for the night like he always does, but as a worried friend, or rather a babysitter some would say, he insisted to accompany Bucky all the way through.

And Bucky was not in the mood to argue; Sam is as equally stubborn as Steve used to be, so he let the man do whatever he wants.

It was clear Sam was suspicious of where the hell did this terminator brought him to, but mostly he was curious. He thought he would just accompany him to the nearest hotel but nope. After taking an Uber, the next thing he knew, Bucky was leading him into this apartment building, that was obviously not his.

"Last time I checked your apartment was in Brooklyn. When did you get a place here?" Sam asked as Bucky stopped at one of the identical looking doors.

"It's not mine" Bucky replied truthfully as he removed the glove from his fleshed hand and pressed his thumb at the top of the door handle.

Sam eyed him with a look on his face when he sassed at him, "Said the guy who is currently unlocking the doors with his fingerprint."

Bucky simply rolled his eyes before the chiming sound alerts that the door was unlocked. Bucky opened the door to let Sam inside before he himself got in after him. "Seriously, man. If I knew you can afford having two apartments I would've asked you to pay for tonight's dinner. That's the least you can do..." Sam's words died as his eyes scanned the apartment.

Whatever he was expecting the apartment to look like, it was far from it. He surely was not expecting the place to be fully decorated with complete set of furniture in every area of the room. Whether it is the living room area, or the huge kitchen that was also equipped with built-in oven.

Even with the lack of light, Sam could see the color pallette on the walls were definitely not what Bucky would go for. The sentimetal trinkets on the shelves, the sweet fragrant of the scented candles; everything was the very opposite of what Bucky's apartment in Brooklyn looks like, feels like.

This, it felt like home. Warm and inviting. Quiet and serene.

"You know what? I take that back. Whose house have you broke us into?" Sam asked, almost in awe rather than shocked, "I know for a fact that this ain't your house."

Bucky huffed a heavy breath as he remove his tactical gears, "I didn't say it was mine, remember? Or flying with the pigeons in the sky had made you forgot how to undertand human language?" there was an unfiltered sarcasm in his tone that didn't go unnoticed by Sam.

So obviously he got defensive and unknowingly increase his volume as he countered, "Woah woah, that was uncalled for. And for your information pigeons can't fly as fast a my wings, and rest assured that I--"

Bucky swiftly stomped towards him, eyes wide almost in anger, while his metal hand reached to cover Sam's mouth, "Can you shut the fuck up, she's probably asleep and your noisy ass will wake--"

"Bucky?" A tiny yet groggy voice interrupted the conversation causing both of them to turn their attention to the source. The figure peeped itself from the bedroom, her uncertainty made it that only half of her body was revealed through the doorway.

Her squinting eyes indicates how recent she was woken up from her sleep and Bucky flashed a quick glared at Sam for that. Sam simply shrug with his hands the air as a response. He was still confused who is this woman and why were they in her house.

Bucky's tight features softens as he called for her, "Hey, babydoll. What are you doing up?"

Recognizing that voice anywhere her feet made her way to him, "Heard some noises." She answered shortly as her knuckles find her eyes and rubbed it lightly. The closer she gets, the clearer Bucky can see the dark circles under her eyes, signifying how much she was lacking of sleep.

His heart squeeze a little at the sight, "M'sorry, sweetheart." it was as if their bodies were magnets that they naturally found each other. Bucky opened his arms wide for her to find her rightful place in his embrace.

"It's okay" she mumbled against his sturdy chest. "Welcome home." She continued.

You'd be surprise to know how much the former winter soldier absolutely adore the feeling of her lips moving against his skin. Even if it was blocked by the fabric of his shirt. It always felt good and he swore he could not get enough of it.

Bucky leaned down on top of her head, inhaling the strawberry yogurt scent of her shampooed hair, "Yes. I am home, indeed." His hugged got tighter, crushing her just enough to make those pretty little sounds slipped her from lips.

Strings of hushed moan kept purring in her throat when Bucky lightly swayed her from side to side; his fleshed hand drawing invisible circles on the back of her waist, while his metal hand gently squeeze the back of her neck.

If she let him pamper her more than this, they'd probably forget that Sam was in the room. Unabashedly had his mouth agape at the sight in front of him. He was not sure whether he wanted to look away or to continue staring because no amount of explanation will suffice to answer his questions.

Peeking from Bucky's shoulder, she smiled warmly as she finally acknowledge the unexpected guest, "You must be Sam. I've heard a lot about you."

She tried to wiggle an escape from Bucky arms, but it was no avail; he was not planning to let her go any time soon. She ended up dragging the enormous koala bear who was stuck on her back as she offered Sam a handshake, introducing herself.

"Good things I hope." Sam took her hand and lightly shake it as she replied, "Of course." As much as he wanted to keep his eye contact with her, it was extremely hard when the grumpy super soldier that he knew was basically melting in crook of her neck.

"I don't want to be rude but the two of you are..." Sam purposely left his words hanging, hoping that one of them would finish the sentence before he let out his assumption, however both of them remained silent. The woman was blinking at him confused, while Bucky was practically still drooling over the her.

"...Lovers?" Sam ended his sentence with an uncertain tone.

Both of them went rigid to the question but before Bucky could say anything, she answered first, "No!" She almost shouted, taking a deep breath before she rephrase her answer, "No. I mean yes. We're not... like that."

"So, you guys are friends then?" Sam quirked an eyebrow to her answer, and seeing Bucky's silence, he guessed that the super soldier might liked her more than just 'friends'.

"Yup, we are. We first met when Bucky was on the run from Hydra, before you guys found him. It's a long story, really." And by the time she explained the shorten version of their story, Bucky finally drifted his attention to Sam, a deep frown decorated his brows as he was mentally asking, "How much longer are you going to stand there? Get the fuck out."

Sam should be offended by his silent orders but considering he came in the middle of the night, uninvited, he realized that he should leave them be,"Then, let that be a reason for us to meet again. You can tell me all about this meet-cute of yours later. I don't want to keep you away from him any longer. Especially when he is staring daggers at me."

She lightly tapped on Bucky's arms, and quick frown at him followed after as she non-verbally asking him stop glaring at Sam. Needless to say, Sam removed himself from the scene after they, or rather she, bid him goodbye.

As soon as the doors closed, Bucky has her back pressed against the door, wasting no time than to capture her lips. A gasped from her made it easy for him to slip his tongue inside. He kissed her slow yet so hungrily as if he was starved of the taste of her sweet mouth against his.

Bucky broke the kiss momentarily just to whisper, "I missed you so much, babydoll." With his thigh in between her legs, he guided her clothed core to slowly hump against him. "Missed you, too." Her beautiful moans only encourage his cock to swell even more than it already was.

Breaking the kiss, Bucky let her catch a breath as his glazed eyes adored her soft features. He still remembered the day when he first met her. When he escaped from Hydra's control, he was determined to keep his life down low. Don't attract to much attention, follow the schedule and stick to rules.

And his schedule was never interesting, it was always:

- write his journal entry

- find/do odd and non-permenant jobs for money

- grocery shopping and cooking

- watch the news

- and mostly just stay at home

Obviously, Bucky knows how to use the internet and all those modern devices that they have nowadays, but he never understand them; the 'social media' and the 'viral' things were never really appealing to him. So one day he decided to pay a visit to a small local library; hoping to find fimiliar solace in books instead.

What are the odds that both of them reach for the same book at the same time? After the multiple exchange of: 'Oh, I'm sorry, here take it.' 'No, you take.' 'No, please I insist.' They ended up meeting on a common ground; making a decision to sit down and read together. Turns out, spending a few hours with her at the library was the most peace he had since forever.

Bucky had a strict routine and rules. But the moment she asked him if he want to spend more time with her while she was there, he was ready to break all of it. And he did; for 7 days straight.

She was his first sense of freedom. His first choice in life.

Though, back then he was on a run, for presumably a lifetime, while she was on business trip for a week. So, they lost contact after that, especially when Bucky was running around with the Avengers and fighting aliens, but fate seemed to be on their side when they were reunited again in New York.

It's a miracle that she even recognized him. Little did he knew, he wasn't the only one who got hooked on the first few hours of that reading session had.

Though, he was extremely grateful that she reach out the moment she recognized him; no hesitant, no doubt. Just a confident and cheerful shout of his name in middle of the park that he walks through everyday.

The first thing that came out from her mouth after calling out his name was a compliment of his new hair cut and how she can see his beautiful eyes more clearer now. And that alone had made Bucky absolutely red in blush.

Weeks after that, she often joined him with his daily walk, making it their routine instead of just his. And months into this newly founded 'friendship', they found solace in each other's arms, comfort in each other's touch, and this quickly become their new favourite activity to do together.

Though none of them ever actually discuss their status but their body language suggest that they are more than just friends.

Especially with the way Bucky was rubbing the tip of his leaking cock on her clit; so desperate yet so gentle. Just like how he always does when he makes love to her. But, tonight he felt different. Maybe he was just needy or maybe it was the way she admit that they were not lovers when Sam asked about their relationship.

It was true. But, it felt so wrong.

"Am I just a friend to you, doll? Bucky leaned forward, his forehead met hers, his hot breath tickling her skin.

His tongue briefly passed in between his lips as he spreads her legs further, revealing her dripping cunt for his display, "Do your friends touch you like this, hmm?" His husky whisper as he rubbed his hardened length in between her slit, brushing against her clit.

"Do your friends kiss you all over like me?" She moaned breathily, as he bit and kiss the softness of her breasts; easily leaving his marks as if she was his to claim.

And without any warning, his cock slammed straight into her hole, stretching the walls to his size causing her to yelp in painful pleasure. Bucky let out a satisfied groan as the tightness of her around him, "Do your friends fuck this tight little pussy with their cock like me?"

Bucky couldn’t stop himself from pulling and pushing his hips to meet hers, his fingertips was practically digging into the flesh of her hips, moving her in time with his thrusts, "What am I to you, baby?" Honestly, it was hard for her to form complete thoughts, let alone reply to his question when he was fucking her so good.

Gone was the gentleman she knew for the past years, the koala bear that she spent hours on the couch cuddling to a movie marathon with. Now, there was only this feral beast, hungry for pleasure, insatiable to devour her whole body and soul.

Each roll of his hips pushed her further from her sober thoughts, focusing only on the wild look on his face, his huge body hunched over hers, his throbbing cock kissing her cervix. Any answer she was trying to convey was lost at the tip of her tongue; there were just the mewling mess, as she fell apart underneath him, compliant to his every thrust as his cock ramming within her. "Tell me. Come on, now. Use your words."

Bucky was almost losing his mind, from how bad he wanted to cum and how stubborn she was for not answering his questions. He pushed her legs up and wide as his thrust punctuated to his words, "What. Am. I. To. You?"

It took her a couple of long moans at his roughness, before she could utter a single word, the only correct answer to his question, "Mine."

He groaned approvingly, pulling back just enough to slide his metal between their bodies. "I'm yours?" Those hard, cold fingers that she loved so much was quick to find her clit. She was already sensitive from all the friction of his rutting, and now was he relentlessly assaulting the swollen nub, "Then, does that make you mine as well huh, sweetheart?"

"Yes, Bucky. You're mine. And I'm yours. All yours. Pleasee"

Her back arches off the bed, toes curling tight as her nails dug into his skin and across his back; To have some kind of a leverage to hold as the overwhelming pleasure surged through her body.

"Yeah, that's right, babygirl. You're mine and mine alone. Mine to love, mine to fuck. Yes?" Bucky taunted her with both his words and the way he rutted into her wet pussy, as if he himself was not close to the egde.

The sound of skin to skin clashing intertwined with the sounds of her pussy squelching around his cock, his girth kept pounding straight into her sweet spot to the point that only lewd whimpers of plead were spewing out of her lips, "Yes, yes yes. Oh Bucky please,, fuck,, I'm cumming!"

"Cum, sweetheart. Let me feel that tight little pussy of mine cum around my cock" He hummed approvingly as he picked a deeper and harsher pace, causing her mouth to fall wide open and her eyes screwed shut as she felt her whole body shook as she came. "Yeah,, that's it, doll. That's my girl. fuckkk,, feels so good baby, gonna make me cum inside you if you keep choking me like that."

"Please, Bucky?" A breathy moan of his name passed her lips as she her walls spasm with need. Bucky groan to the sensation, he was sure that her pussy was already full of his precum, considering how it has been leaking inside her for so long, "Want my cum in you, pretty girl?"

Batting her eyes through her lashes, she stared up at him, pleading., "Need it, please."

"Oh fuck, you got it, sweetheart." Throwing his head back in pleasure, shutting his eyes solely to focus of the feeling of her wet and tight cunt, Bucky's pace quicken as he chased his high, "Hmmm,, fuckk,, gonna stuff you full. You'll leaking for days, babydoll. Then, I'm gonna keep filling you until you can't live without my cum inside your pussy."

Hearing such dirty confessiom only triggers her to near orgasm, "Yess pleasee i want it. Need it, bucky." Surely enough she came again when he hit that special spot inside her.

"Ahh,, fuck ahhh,, I'm cumming shit pussy so good m'cumming fuckkkk", Bucky couldn’t even stop himself from rutting in and out of her sweet pussy as his cock pulsed, especially when her cunt was sucking him in deeper.

His head fall down to watch his cock disappear inside her before squeezing it shut again when the white spurt of cum shoots against her walls. His jaw was loose as his mouth formed an ‘o’ shape to allow his loud groans contaminated the silenced room.

His thick endless cum warm her insides and the honeyed moans hanging off her lips to its own accord as Bucky hunched over her frame, pressing his face in crook of her neck, breathing heavily as she was. After awhile, a broken sound of his voice stopped the silence, "Do you really mean it?"

He refused to look at her in the eyes, afraid of the rejection that might come his way but she proved him wrong by holding him by his cheeks, leading his eyes to align with hers,

"Bucky. You, my dear, are my bestfriend; you are my heart, you are my person. And there is no one in this world that I'd rather spend my whole life with besides you." Her words was nothing but the truth and Bucky knew that.

His heart swelled with joy yet he didn't know how to express it other than, "I love you, doll..." there was pause as if he was gathering the pieces of his soul to offer it to her, "...So much."

And she accepted it with her whole heart, "I love you too, Bucky."

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: I was gone for awhile but never too long. Hope you enjoy this little drabble 👀

#bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #tfatws!bucky #bucky barnes smut #bucky smut

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deafsignifcantother · 3 months

Text

the v's reaction to someone taking your hearing aid

♥ summary: "what the Vees would do if they noticed their partially deaf s/o being picked on - like the other people would tear out their hearing aid(s) and break them and stuff" @aceduchessdragoness ♥ characters: velvette, vox, valentino ♥ notes: screaming and crying okay so i did val's spanish as spain spanish bc i think spain sign language would be better than narrowing his signs down to a specific latin american country but if the translation is cringe then tell me bc i'm literally using an lse dictionary

Vox

♥ word count: 1.9k ♥ notes: i use [Y/N] for the first time in my career ong, she/her pronouns used in third person, reader doesn't speak and only signs, protective but violent vox, vox in a healthy relationship, reader gets harassed in public

It was never a mystery to you how Vox always knew where you were. Even without the watch on your wrist, you felt his eyes on you, the looming knowledge of persistent monitoring.

Not that it bothered you, of course. If anything, you were worried that he wanted to spend his time watching you instead of running his business. But whatever, it was flattering.

Whenever you went on your routine errands, you would smile at every television or security camera you encountered. On the big screens in Vox's room, he feels like the common softening of his heart. Your smile always seems so genuine. How can somebody like you adore him so much?

Blue light illuminates your living room. From the kitchen, you groan as you make your way to the television. Can he stop bothering you at this hour? All you wanted to do was get some damn water, but of course, as always, he's monitoring you.

Words pop up on the screen as you approach it. You rub your eyes, the brightness overwhelming. You reach for your coffee table.

GO TO SLEEP

With the sudden click of the remote, you smile as the screen goes black. One, two, three... it lights up again.

DON'T TRY

Again, the screen goes black. One... again, a bright blue illuminates you.

[Y/N]. The television shakes.

You snicker at him, finally sitting on the floor and putting the remove down. On the other side of that screen, Vox sits on his swivel chair, gazing up at you, your frame taking up multiple monitors. Your eyes look below where his point of view is.

"It's late," you sign, and the light makes your hands shine in the darkness. "Dim it a little."

He listens; his small act of consideration makes you melt. Your eyes soften immensely. Internally, he begs you to stop looking at him like that; it's embarrassing how good it makes him feel.

The television is still a blinding blue as you go from the living room to the bedroom; he follows you per any screen by your side. Worst of all, a flat-screen faces your bed, which was mandatory.

"Goodnight, Vox." You sign while putting your face up to the screen.

You turn this TV off, and to your delight, it stays off.

With a yawn, you stretch your morning aches away and lean your head against the table of your vanity. You get a few seconds of shut-eye before popping back up. Vox is watching; if he notices you're tired, he will try to be domestic and nap with you regardless of how much work you must do today. So you rub away your sleepy eyes and massage the tension in your jaw. Putting on your hearing aid is first on your daily to-do list; you'd like to hear if he pops up on your television and decides to update you on his morning. Sometimes, he gets so impatient. Next, while picking up your moisturizer, you try not to shiver at the coldness once it touches your fingers.

You wish yourself a good morning before rubbing it in.

At the same time of day, Vox was already up and doing his rounds, making sure his employees were getting work done. He gets antsy between when you wake up, and you get to the tower. Every morning once he sees you entering the elevator, he'll wait on the other side to welcome you in with a kiss to the forehead.

Vox checks his watch. It shows his favorite things: your vitals, location, and pretty little face whenever you dial him.

You've finally left your place, thank goodness. Pacing aimlessly has never looked good on him.

He stands by his window, looking down at the streets below, watching you approach. You're wearing your usual uniform, one that he picked out just for you; it consists of the same red and blue stripes he has on his everyday suit. It makes you an eyesore in the everyday crowd.

If you didn't know any better, you'd lift your head to see if you could spot him among the many stories. The building is beautiful, overpowering. The V tower's magnificent brightness outshines the rest of the V district. The constant noise of people always has you walking with your hearing aid turned as low as it can go without turning off.

With the pink light reflecting off your face, you look both ways before crossing the street, a bright smile on your face, stepping onto the asphalt before a hand grabs your wrist.

Vox furrows his brow at the sight.

You turn your head and see a friendly reporter and a cameraman, the camera not yet rolling. Your pupils flicker between them.

"Hello!" She smiles, removing her hand. With caution, you fully face her, stepping back onto the sidewalk. The 'professional' persona you've been forced to practice is finally coming to fruition.

"Hello! I'm Deaf; I don't think I'd be able to do an interview."

She flicks her hand and rolls her eyes in the most friendly way possible. "Not a problem," she signs, moving the microphone vibrantly, "I can work this out, no problem!"

You widen your eyes in a wowwwww, oh my god, that's perfect... "Oh, what a kind woman you are!"

Vox? You beg internally. Baby? Save me.

Up high, he doesn't remove his eyes from you. With the use of sign language, he can't listen in, and he can't tell whether he needs to intervene or not. There's nothing wrong with going to check, right? Or will he seem possessive, or scared? He doesn't want people to think he doesn't want you to talk to anyone. It's good that you get to sign to someone other than him and Velvette, right?

The camera starts rolling, and you square your shoulders, adjusting your sleeves for more mobility. The news reporter throws the microphone at the cameraman, who does not catch it but ignores it as she shows off her brightest smile.

"Hello, ladies and gentlemen, I have the sweetest person in hell with me, [y/n]! Tell me, how long have you two been together?"

Of course, the news has been recognizing you recently. You've been seen countless times adjusting Vox's tie (he purposely fucks it up so that you'll step close to him) as well as wrapping your arm around his and pinching the corner of his screen endearingly before you give him a babying compliment. Many people have taken pictures and edited hearts around you two. People are obsessed with how "heavenly" your relationship is.

"Oh, many months now!" You nod to yourself, trying to stop your eyes from shining with admiration. You always get so soft when you think about him; it's one of the things people notice. She looks at him as if he's her entire world.

"Beautiful!" The reporter puffs out her bottom lip innocently. "I'm sure you make that man very happy."

What do you even say to that? I hope so.

"The happiest."

"Now," she doesn't hesitate to change the topic. "Are there any challenges you two face about your... differences?"

Your eyebrows raise before furrowing in confusion. Differences? At first, you think she means his television head, but when she notices you pause, she rudely clarifies. "I mean, with your lack of hearing, you know? Don't you find it a little embarrassing?"

You lean your body away from her. "What are you saying?"

The shock of the tonal shift has you freezing in place. The reporter looks at the camera, her eyes squinting with sadistic amusement. Her fingers twitch as she lifts her arm, not even looking at you before plucking the hearing aid from your ears. She crushes it in her hand.

At first, you grab your ear, pressing your hand to it in disbelief. Your face contorts, your shoulders dropping as you try to step away. Why couldn't you see this coming? And on television—is that where this is airing? The air around you goes quiet, the sensation of spatial awareness fading a bit as you stumble back, your hand still grasping your ear. The watch on your wrist hits your cheek, and without a second thought, you tap on the screen repeatedly. The next thing that popped into your head: her bravery is the most surprising.

With a brief fall of light, Vox stands where the lady once was. You eye him with uncertainty, a look you have never given him. He faces the cameraman, not looking your way. Your eyes go up and down his body; his stance is tense, his arms are folded behind his back, and his fingers sparking with small glimmers of electricity.

You see that lying behind him is the woman, body entirely limp, smoke coming from her mouth, and her eyes looking stuck open.

He speaks to the camera, pointing his finger at it, staring intensely into the shaking, blinking red light. Your hands link around his bicep. Composure, you remind yourself. You turn to the camera with a weary smile and lean your head against him.

"That'll never happen again." He stares at himself in the mirror. His dressers and tables are filled with claw marks from his previous meltdowns.

You just sit on his bed, crossing your legs uncomfortably, watching him as he goes back and forth between signing to you and mumbling to himself. You haven't said a word. You just keep your eyes on him.

He protected you in the way he knew best. He wanted nothing more than to put his hands on the sides of her head and crush her skull. It would stain his suit, awful. Even worse, your suit would have been ruined, too.

Should he force you to move into the tower? He's always wanted to. The commute would be no more, and you'd be safe from the outside.

Should he prevent you from leaving at all without him? No, that might be too much, but his entire body craves to keep you secure and protected.

He won't ask you what you want. He knows there's a chance you would just coddle him and tell him it's okay. There's no reality where he will do nothing; he must devise his own plan. But first (actually, secondly, after getting his anger out on his furniture), he wants to make sure his sweetheart is okay.

Once he calmed down and sat next to you, rubbing your thigh, he watched as you scrolled through social media, looking at the hundreds of people laughing and reposting the event. He shuts off your phone, grabs it, and tosses it across the room. You roll your eyes helplessly before he lifts his hands and signs to you.

"I will track everyone down and punish them severely, baby. No one will ever touch you again, or else they will the next flashing headline."

"I know, baby," you wrap your arms around his chest and lean into him, rubbing your cheek against the smoothness of his overcoat.

You hum against him, finding it in yourself to smile softly. Protector, protector, protector. You run those words through your head; they're comforting to their own extent. Suppose he ends up locking you inside the tower. In that case, it's better than him leaving you entirely over this (which, obviously, he'd never actually do). Spending every morning and night with him wouldn't be wrong. Everything happens for a reason.

He leans back onto the bed, his feet dangling off as you curl into his side.

Before resting completely, you use a hand to sign into his chest. "Everything will be fine."

Your coddling, though annoying, provides the most relaxing warmth to his body. He groans, wrapping an arm lazily around you, feeling the usual butterflies in his stomach as you press a small kiss to his collarbone.

Velvette

♥ word count: 1.6k ♥ warnings: reader speaks, part scene, getting harassed by a man, vox is in this too ♥ a/n: i completely headcanon that velvette took an asl class in highschool when she was alive, i have no idea how velvette usually acts in fanfiction so this is MY velvette now

Velvette found you, such a pretty thing, in your little corner of the internet, making content for your little community. That little corner of yours is where you told the news and interpreted a lot of banter from the overlords. Your channel was the perfect mix of education and drama, all for the Deaf community in Hell.

You were, as Velvette described, a tea channel.

She invited you to the V tower to show you around. The three V's introduced themselves to you in their own way, offering you a job. The bossman, ever so gentlemanly and charming, didn't let Valentino try and make sex motions to you for longer than necessary. And before Velvette forced Vox to scurry off, she forced him to snap a few pics of you posing with her as a faux collab.

You weren't stupid. You knew Velvette only wanted your attention to spread whatever brand she endeavored to popularize. But this might be a golden opportunity. You'd learn the behind-the-scenes from three different overlords, and the content you can produce will gather insane traction.

Velvette is just so sweet; the way she showed her care for you was just through gift-giving.

She loved putting together gift boxes for you, similar to the sorority kind. The boxes went from cute little baskets to a cardboard box resembling a PR send. These would always be set on your desk with a bit of note from her, each time she'd signed off her name with a heart.

Jackets, shoes, candies, jewelry, pens, everything. The gifts are versatile with familiar themes of hearts. Every day was like Valentine's Day when she was 'courting' you (did she even realize she was?).

She made you bags: totes, crossbody bags, clutches, phone pouches, coin purses, anything she thought you would need with an array of colors to match any outfit. She put in hair clips and pocket mirrors, cozy slippers and fancy journals.

She even got you two matching bracelets.

You love the smirk she wears whenever she notices you adorning anything she's given to you. Damn right, she thinks, I knew it would look good.

The most enormous box she'd ever given you was the day before one of her fashion shows. Inside were glorious clothes from her collection, all for you to pick out and wear. She really loved her stripes.

You put your hearing aid on, smiling at yourself in the mirror as you watch the charm she made you glisten in the light. With your bracelet ornamenting your wrist, you pat down your stripped outfit before taking a deep breath.

Your entrance reeks of reluctance. The temptation to retreat back to your room is unbearable. Seeing Velvette will definitely lift your mood; where is she? Surely, she'd be the highlight of the room, but amongst all the women with their eccentric colors and clothing shapes, you can't find your eye drawing to her anywhere.

The sounds of the party blend together in a nasty concoction; you can't help but turn your hearing aids off. The sound is similar to what it's like being outside in a heavy storm; the wind, the pouring rain, the blur and whine of the hearing aids. And instead of lingering by the double doors, you push into the crowd. You're the least recognizable in the crowd of celebrities, but it doesn't stop people from moving out of the way when you try to wiggle through. You're wearing stripes, her stripes. You're either bold or very special to her; they don't want to intervene.

But your stripes also get some people to stare at you longer than they would have otherwise. Across the room, in front of you, you notice a tall, almost shirtless model coming your way, directly staring at you. You break the quick eye contact before squeezing through a cluster of girls taking selfies. They won't let you through, grimacing but not laying any hands on you. When you turn to go the other way, the man is behind you, holding out his hand, waiting for you to put your hand in his.

You click on your hearing aid and scroll up. "What did you say?" You ask verbally, clearing your throat a bit.

His eyes bounce from yours to your hand, looking at what you're touching. His head tilts in interest. You don't like the sight of his smile.

"Oh wow." He says.

Immediately, "Yeah, no," Velvette puts her hands on your shoulders and tries to push you away. "I swear, don't even look at him, he's fucking insane."

He speaks over her, but you can't process his words over how close Velvette's lips are to your ear. Her warm breath sends goosebumps down your arms, and your spine straightens. This only makes her hum in amusement.

After turning and growling at him, she effortlessly maneuvers you away. Eyes watch you even closer now as she touches you. You let her guide you throughout the room with not a clue as to where she's leading you, if anywhere. But eventually, you two end up in front of a mirror the size of a wall.

She stares at you through the mirror. "Look at you," she signs, "extravagant as ever, darling."

"Thanks to you."

"Obviously." And she bumps her hip into yours. You laugh, mimicking the motion back.

You had ditched your initial motive of getting close to the V's to gain more information about them. They were fine people to hang out with, making you laugh and feel involved. Velvette gave you special attention that nobody in your afterlife has ever given. Her lipstick left stains on your cheek whenever she kissed you, and she made an 'appointment' in her schedule once a week to paint your nails the same black color as hers.

The afternoon went by quickly; you spent time clapping and watching models show off their garb. Velvette is a true talent.

But something ruined your evening. The air hummed with laughter and the rhythmic beat of music. Velvette had been whisked away by the other V's to overlook the crowd and count the people who had attended. Among the colorful crowd stood a familiar figure whose eyes sparkled with mischief. Different from last time, you don't notice when he starts to approach again.

"You," he coos, placing his hand under your chin. You must stare at his lips to comprehend his words over the music, an awful innuendo you wish you could have avoided. He leaned in closer to you, and in return, you leaned back. Valentino had told you a bunch of times to not worry if someone puts their hands on you, that it's a typical formality in Hell. You would always roll your eyes at him, never expecting a stranger to grab you like this.

You were mentally preparing yourself to dodge a kiss. But then, daringly, he leaned in and gently plucked the hearing aid from behind your ear, holding it aloft like a trophy. Fear flickered across your face, your hand instinctively reaching for it, but he pulled it away. The charm Velvette gave you dangles like a jewel.

"Don't," you say with desperation. He puts a finger in front of your face and waves it back and forth. He coos, using that hand to grab your face as if you were the most adorable thing he's ever seen.

Your eyes are locked on the charm, and it's brash jolts. You almost beg for him to just give you the charm back.

In the middle of a conversation with Vox, Velvette raises an eyebrow; shocked and pissed, she glared at whoever had torn off your hearing aid. She mumbles, "I'd tear their hearing aid off and break it."

Before she can move closer to you, Vox puts his hand in front of her while watching the interaction. "Think before acting, Velvette."

Her frustration turns into anger as she pushes his hand away. He lets her run off; he holds a hard stare as her pink hair bobs through the crowd.

Your eyes are stuck wide with shock, and a million things run through your head, all relating to the appropriate situational response.

True to your casual self, you were having a hard time not just jamming your hand in his eyes and kicking his shins. Would you make Velvette mad? Vox?--Would that result in you being removed from the V Tower? It's all so complicated. Though you were panicking over a 'quick' decision, you and the man stayed in that position for a few seconds. He stayed laughing, dropping the hearing aid and stomping on it.

At almost the same time, Velvette threw a glass from someone's hand at the man, perfectly aimed, hitting him in the face. She lets out a small "nice!" before rushing to you.

Her hand runs down your face, and she holds you tenderly, not turning to face Vox as he puts himself between her and the man. Your eyes bounce around the entire room. Will you ever get a break from being at the center of attention?

"We're leaving. Now." she signs in a single motion so quick that it makes you smile, relieving some of the stress that's been making your head pound. She's able to sign so naturally now.

The crowd splits into two.

Behind the both of you, Vox is declaring an end to the event, apologizing to the people for the inconvenience. Velvette keeps muttering about him under her breath; you can see her lips moving and her face grimacing.

She has beads in front of her, a bunch of small charms with string. She signs, looking up at you. "I should have killed him."

You just watch her craft another charm, laying on her bed and kicking your feet. "That would have been funny."

She scoffs and smiles, her painted lips turning upwards. Her fingers trace over the beads, deciding which one to pick up. She wants to make it different than the last one, but what should it look like? She picks up a pink heart with a slight hum before sliding it down onto the string. She whispers to herself, perfect.

Valentino

♥ word count: 1.7k ♥ note: reader is a vodka drinker, i'm obsessed with writing a loving valentino, reader doesn't talk very much and prefers sign, sexually suggestive things happening but it's not nsfw, kinda written like ass, drugs mentioned but no named just symptoms, takes place on porn set, valentino kills someone, blood description

Every time you step into the studio, you're hit by the smell of sex, mostly the sweetened stench of that strawberry lube he loves so much. Visiting his work is not usually something you do often, but he's seem to be so busy lately that you can't help but bring him a drink, the most beautiful drink in hell: vanilla vodka. You can already see him licking him lips.

Strawberry lube, so prominent in your nose.

His legs are crossed and he stares at the scene in front of him, his sunglasses hiding whatever his emotions are, but his lips are still in a prominent scowl.

Though, when he sees you, his expression changes drastically. He stands with so much excitement that the actors stop to see what he's reacting to. All eyes are on you, you shy away from the attention a bit but Val doesn't seem to notice, else care.

"Amor mío!" One of his hands signs, running down his cheek while his bottom two motions for a hug.

Before you can initiate a hug, he wraps his arms around you and brings you into his chest, trapping your arms in. He's warm, vibrantly so, it's hard not to melt against him. You couldn't be surprised if you let out a small moan at the contact. Oh, how I've missed you so much.

He pulls away quicker than you'd like and takes the bottle from your hand, holding it up close to his face so he can examine it. "Burnett's, oh you shouldn't have!"

He hesitates, torn between his responsibilities and the irresistible allure of having a drink with the person he was enamored with. He's not so easy to whisk away from work, therefore (of course), you seem to be the only person who he is at every beck and call.

You smile softly, "I knew you'd like it."

With a laugh, he takes your hand and spins you, his free hands popping open the bottle, ready to embark on whatever journey you had in store.

He turns and addresses his employees, granting them a small break before turning to you with his sharp smile.

And together, you slip away from the set, leaving behind the hustle and bustle of the studio for a simple moment of peace and luxury. Walls blazed with hues of pink and blue, you both find yourselves nestled on the fluffy couch in a lounge, a wineglass in your hand while he chugs from the bottle.

"You've been so busy." You sign. You switch the wineglass into your non dominant hand to avoid spilling any of the contents. Val holds the bottle with his bottom set of hands while signing with his top ones (he was originally going to do it the other way around).

“I know, princesa,” one of his hands comes up and squeezes your cheek. “Business calls, I cannot help myself.”

“Which is why I came to visit.”

The two of you clink glass upon glass before taking a drink. He’s trying not to finish the drink before you, he’s making sure to take his time. He doesn’t want you to leave as much as he doesn’t want to rush the break. His eyes go over your entire form and take you in, there feels like an eternity since he saw you last. Why do you have so much patience for someone like him? It’s astonishing. Surely someone as beautiful as you could find someone sweeter than her. But he’s grateful to have you, he’s mildly addicted to that internal battle of whether he wants to cherish you or own you (perhaps he can do both? Something he’s never done before).

“What?” You ask.

“Hm?” His fingers pinch together in the casual way of signing.

“You’re staring at me.”

“I can’t resist.”

“What were you thinking about?” You sign and lean forward, giving him bright eyes. Your gaze swallows him, moth to a flame.

He matches your body language, “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, amor mío.”

When he tries to grab your hand, you pull away. “You're acting as if you're wine drunk.” You sign. You have a sappy smile as you put your glass to your lips.

“Never,” he wiggles his fingers as he signs. You eye him carefully, debating asking if he's kept his favorite gun on him. There's nothing worse than a drunk Valentino.

After the wine break, he has to go back to work. He feels himself getting irritated as he walks back, why can't he just continue spending the day with you? Is it worth sending everybody home? No, he has a job to do, and he needs to complete it before relaxation. But maybe he'll consider taking breaks (his least favorite word) to spend time with you.

You follow, both of your hands holding his, clinging onto him like a child.

Everybody was still in the studio, waiting for his return, not daring to leave in fear of him coming back. Actors were talking to each other casually, away from the camera, it built a strange sense of community for you. They're so nice to each other off-camera.

He drags you to his chair still holding your hand as he sits in it.

Drinking with you had been a much-needed respite from these people. He made a mental note to gift you more wine.

You remove your hands from his and smile. “Get back to work, baby.”

Pearly white, sharp teeth show through his large smile. He presses his lips against each of your knuckles while his eyes skin over all of his actors, counting them. He makes eye contact with one particular one, a woman. They stare at each other for more than a second. She's scowling at him and he squints his eyes at her. The fuck is your problem?

She usually looks at him with sultry looks, but now there's a sharpness to them.

But his eyes peel away from her and go back to you, he leans forward and presses a slow kiss to your forehead. He signs low, almost as if he's whispering a secret. "I'll come see you after."

You smile and start turning away. "Good."

Upon noticing your departure, the actors and crew start returning to their places, keeping an eye on Valentino and any commands he might make. Their eyes are always on him, worried to test his anger. But not all the actors were worried about testing his anger.

"Hey," an actress grabs your hand before you could reach the door and you turn to her. She talks, her voice making your hearing aids buzz, "Are you guys like, dating? Are you dating the Valentino? Like, literally one of the V's."

Her words all bunch into one. You blink, taking time to think about both what she could be asking and the connotation behind it. "Yes?" It sounds more like a question than an answer. Is that the correct response?

She hums and nods, her eyes wide in amazement. Her pupils are large. Her cheeks are hollow and she has strong eyebags. With a distant sound from Val, him talking to the crew, she looks back at him before turning to you. "I mean like, why? Why would he want you?"

Oh no. You try to move away but she just follows you, stepping in front of you closer. It's like being cornered, being trapped in an almost unavoidable situation.

"Why wouldn't he?" You test with a squint of your eyes.

She just smiles at you. "Uhm," and her arm reaches over, grabbing the hearing aid from your ear, pinching it between her claws, "Obviously this."

You reach for it but she pulls it away from you, trying not to laugh.

So you do what you know is the best solution, you call his name, practically screaming it. "Val!"

At the sound of you using your voice he whips his head around. The air goes still, you can tell from the way she pauses. Her pause is only for a second, she reeks of hesitance and sudden worry. She looks at the hearing aid in her hand as if she's finally realizing what she had done and what was about to happen.

Before she can say another word, her entire body stiffs, her eyes widen before her pupils roll back. And then she's on the floor, almost falling onto you.

You wipe blood from your cheek and groan.

Val stares at you, his expression unreadable. In his hand is his jeweled gun. He pauses for a moment to take a long drag of his cigarette, letting out a cloud of red smoke before he looks at his gun with a toothy smile until he tucks it back into his belt.

He starts to approach you and for a second you're scared, it was a primal feeling. He walked like a king.

All you can do is watch him, frozen in place.

The first thing he does when he reaches you is bend in front of her body, plucking the hearing aid from her hand. It's bloody, the liquid drips from it as he lifts it up. He wipes some of it off on his shirt before handing it to you. He drops it into your open hands.

He speaks, knowing you'd have a hard time understanding. "Laying her slutty hands on my angel..."

You lean into his touch when he caresses your face. His eyes gaze at you, softening, his smile widening at how soft your eyes look. You're his greatest treasure. He gets off immensely from protecting you, he would ravish you to death in this moment if he could. Valentinos eyes drift down at the body and his pupils narrows as he glares at the dead woman. He's going to have to clean this up. Her blood is getting every where.

One of his thumbs rub against your cheek, touching the bloody smear. It stains your skin in a delectable way. So perfect.

He melts when he sees your soft eyes slowly start to match the mischievous smile growing on your face. He protected you and he was open about being dithered over her behavior, he didn't laugh at it or tease you about it. You don't doubt for an instant that he's the man of your dreams. He killed someone for you in an instant.

When you take his thumb into your mouth, sucking the blood, his spine straightens. He pulls away immediately and turns around, yelling at the his workers that filming will be cut short today.

He just can't wait any longer to spend some lovely time with you.

#hazbin hotel #vox x reader #x reader #deaf community #x deaf reader #x deaf s/o #velvette x reader #valentino x reader #velvette hazbin hotel #valentino hazbin hotel

1K notes · View notes

sailortongue · 3 months

Text

someone help me name this fic

pairing: choso kamo x reader

summary: a simple movie night with your best friend turns into something more when his older brother joins your weekly ritual

wc: 3.3k

warnings: smut, nsfw, fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, creampie, yuji is asleep in the same room briefly

an: why is smut so hard to write. feel like i put in so much effort just for it to not even be good

an 2: also the "title" is not a joke. this fic has been sitting in the docs for a few days and i'm still stumped. so if anyone has suggestions the floor is all yours

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Movie night was definitely your favorite night of the week. It always involved plenty of snacks, jokes, laughter, and was just generally a great time with your best friend. There was never a boring moment as long as Yuji was around. So no matter what, you could always expect to have fun.

What you didn't expect, though, was Yuji’s older brother, Choso, joining your weekly ritual. You liked him well enough, for what little you knew about him. For as long as you've been friends with Yuji you don't think Choso has ever said more than three words to you at one time. Not that that stopped you from harboring a small crush on the older male. You rolled your eyes at yourself. Crushing on your best friend’s brother. How cliche could you get?

But fuck Choso was pretty. Like, unfairly pretty. Especially now, when he was fresh out of the shower, his hair down from its usual space buns. You also noticed that he had removed the copious amount of earrings he usually had in his ears, giving him a softer look than you were accustomed too. You watched him run his hands through his hair, pushing his bangs out of his face. You bet his hands would feel so good on your-

“Y/N!”

You snapped back to reality to see Yuji looking at you expectantly. “What?” you asked dumbly, heat spreading across your cheeks, embarrassed that you had accidentally ignored your friend in favor of thirsting over his brother. Get a grip you thought to yourself.

But Yuji only chuckled. “Rough week?” he asked.

You groaned as you dramatically flopped backward to lay on the couch, which was answer enough for Yuji. Always the optimist, he said, “Maybe next week will be better. You got this.”

“No, I don’t. This degree is eating me alive. I have not one, not two, but three exams next week!” you exclaimed, holding up three fingers for emphasis.

“You’ll be fine. You did well on your last exams and you’ll do well on these too. So like I was saying, I wanted to know if you had a particular movie in mind.”

You thought about it for a moment. “No, not really. How about we let Choso pick since it’s his first time watching with us?”

Both you and Yuji looked over at Choso, whose eyes widened at finding himself the center of attention. He hummed, trying to think if there was anything that piqued his interest before settling on a movie he’d been meaning to watch but never got around to.

“Perfect! Hey, Yn, can you pop some popcorn while I set it up?” asked Yuji.

You hummed your agreement and stood from your place on the couch, padding your way over to the kitchen. You dug in the pantry for the popcorn, finally finding the box shoved way in the back. You grabbed two of the pouches and placed one in the microwave. While that was popping, you decided to go ahead and get a large bowl for the snack.

Naturally, it was on the top shelf, which left you on your tiptoes and stretching your arm as high as you could all in vain. As if summoned by your plight, Choso walked into the kitchen to see your struggle.

“Hey, Choso, could you-”

Before you could even finish asking, he placed himself right behind you, his body flush to yours as he placed a hand on your hip for stability and reached up with the other arm to grab the bowl. He handed it to you with a simple “here” before walking back into the living room.

You couldn't believe that just happened. Your heart was going a mile a minute and you briefly considered splashing cold water on your face to cool it down. Luckily for you, Choso remained in the living room with Yuji, allowing you to have a small meltdown in peace.

When you returned to the living room with popcorn in hand, you found that Yuji had made himself comfortable in the recliner, which left you with no choice but to share the couch with Choso. There was ample room on the couch for the two of you, but just being in the same room after his stunt in the kitchen felt too close, much less on the same couch.

You did your best to avoid looking at Choso, knowing your face would erupt with heat the moment you made eye contact. You placed the popcorn on the coffee table and took your seat on the opposite end of the sofa as Choso.

“Everybody ready?” asked Yuji excitedly, eager to watch a movie with two of his favorite people. When both you and his brother gave the affirmative, he started the movie. But for all of his excitement to watch it, you guess the exhaustion that comes with the end of a school week caught up to him, and he was asleep before he even made it halfway into the movie.

This left you to watch the rest of the movie alone with his brother, the man who had flustered you so terribly a mere hour ago and the one you thought about late at night. You silently cursed Yuji’s name for leaving you in this situation, even more so when the characters on screen ended up in a bedroom. You could feel Choso’s gaze on you, and when you glanced over at him, you were right, he was looking right at you.

You furrowed your brows into a questioning gaze, silently asking him what. He shook his head and returned his attention to the screen. You followed suit, but the graphic imagery was getting to you. You shifted in your seat, feeling the stirrings of arousal that first began with Choso pressing himself against your backside. You couldn't but imagine that the couple on screen was you and Choso: how it would feel to kiss him, be held by him, be fucked by him.

Why is this scene so long? You thought to yourself, rubbing your thighs together as discreetly as you could. But not as discreetly as you should have, apparently.

“Are you cold?” asked Choso. Now, Choso knew damn well you weren’t cold, but he wanted to see how far he could push you, how desperate he could make you.

“No, no, I’m fine,” you insisted.

He frowned at your response and scooted over next to you anyway, extending his blanket to cover you. You weren't so naive to think that this is a normal and friendly interaction. Especially not when Choso’s large hand slid over your thigh and rested just below the hem of your shorts. You stiffened in your seat, and a warmth began to spread through your lower belly. “Choso,” you started, but the words caught in your throat as soon as he glanced down at you.

“You’re so pretty, you know that?” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from your face. His hand continued from behind your ear and migrated to cup your face, pulling you closer to him. You glanced at his lips, heart practically pounding out of your chest. Before your lips could connect, he paused. “Is this okay with you?” he whispered breathily. He’d never forgive himself if he was making you uncomfortable with his advances.

Rather than answer, you mirrored his actions, cupping his face and pulling him closer, finally pressing your lips against his soft ones. He inhaled roughly, but melted against you as he returned the kiss. He licked the seam of your lips, urging you to let him in.

But it wasn’t enough. Not for Choso. His hands moved to grip your hips and pull you into his lap. Now straddling him, you could feel how hard he was beneath you. You gasped into his mouth, and as soon as you did you regretted it. Choso pulled away from you, his dark eyes boring into yours. “You have to be quiet, pretty girl. You wouldn't want Yuji to wake up and see us, would you?”

You shook your head, eyes wide and pleading for him to keep going. He mockingly pouted at you, but it morphed into a patronizing grin, a wicked idea forming in his mind. He leaned in and licked a stripe from the base of your neck all the way to just below your ear. You shivered in his grasp, and he chuckled, the deep sound reverberating through his chest. He blew on the wet stripe, pleased at the way your body reacted so deliciously to the stimulation, your hands balling the fabric of his shirt into fists. But you stayed quiet. He hummed. “Good girl. Let’s go somewhere you can be a little louder. What d’ya say? I want to hear all those pretty sounds.”

You nodded fervently, not trusting your voice at the moment for fear that you’d disturb Yuji. Choso tutted at you, and nipped at your earlobe. The sudden sharp pain caused you to wince, but it was quickly forgotten as Choso placed feather-light kisses along your jawline before returning where he started, his soft voice tickling the shell of your ear. “Come on, baby, use your words. I need to hear you say it. Need to hear you say you want me to fuck you.”

You were about to assert that yes, you wanted this, wanted him, but you hesitated, wondering what Yuji would think if he ever found out.

He could see the indecision in your eyes, that you were unsure if you truly wanted to continue this or not. He pulled away from you, terrified that he had overstepped and you were just too scared to stop him. “If you don’t want this-”

“No!” you cut him off. “I do. I really want this. I’m just worried about what Yuji will think when or if he finds out and mmH-” Choso smashed his lips against yours, effectively silencing every racing thought as all you could focus on was the way his tongue intertwined with yours and how good his hands felt as they smoothed up and down your waist.

He reluctantly pulled away before he completely lost himself to bliss. “God, you're just too perfect.” His eyes scanned up and down your heaving body, which was tense with anticipation. All it took was the soft “please” falling from your kiss-swollen lips to have Choso groaning, all of his restraint crumbling within him. Your hips gyrating over his was just the nail in his coffin. He slid his hands from where they rested on your hips down your thighs, smoothly lifting you up with him as he stood from the couch. From over his shoulder you could see your best friend still sleeping peacefully in the recliner, none the wiser that the relationship between his best friend and older brother was about to be forever changed.

A pang of guilt went through you, but was smothered by the overwhelming lust and attraction you had been harboring for Choso since the first moment you saw him. What Yuji didn’t know wouldn't kill him, right?

You lost sight of Yuji as Choso entered his room, using his foot to softly close the door behind him. He approached the bed and placed you atop it gently, reverently even. Seeing his face hovering above yours, having him between your legs, it felt unreal. You never even entertained the thought that your fantasies would become a reality, but now they were and it was so much better than you could have ever dreamed.

In the privacy of his room and without worrying that his brother would wake any second, Choso became bolder. He was seemingly unable to decide where to place his hands now that he finally had you under him. You wrapped your hands around his wrists and guided his hands to your chest, prompting him to cup your breasts. He got the message loud and clear, giving them each a soft squeeze. He trailed his hands down to the hem of your shirt and slid his hands under the material, pulling it above your head and tossing it to the floor of his bedroom. He returned his hands to your covered breasts, kneading them through your bra before he hooked his fingers under the fabric and pulled it down.

He let out a shaky breath, entranced by the vision you made beneath him, the very picture of beauty and femininity. You watched him as he drank in the sight, resisting the urge to pull him where you wanted him. Unable to resist any longer himself, Choso lowered his face to your chest, taking a nipple into his mouth and tweaking the other between two fingers. You gasped as he suckled at the tender flesh, and your hand flew to the back of head, winding your fingers in his dark hair. He released your nipple with a pop, and tilted his head up to see you already looking at him. “Don’t stop,” you whined, already missing the warmth of his mouth on your body.

“Don’t worry, I'm not stopping til we both feel good.” As he said that, he switched sides and continued his ministrations, dragging his free hand down to the hem of your shorts. “Let’s get these off, yeah?” You lifted your hips to aid in his efforts, and they soon joined your shirt on the floor.

Choso placed his hands on the outside of your thighs, using the thumb of one hand to toy with your clit through your panties. You moaned at his touch, his name slipping from your lips. The sweet sound of your voice was music to Choso’s ears, and he was determined to hear as much of it as possible. He leaned down to kiss you, swallowing every gasp and moan, his lithe fingers bringing you to the edge faster than you ever thought possible. All too soon, he removed his hand, but you quickly realized he was true to his word and far from done as he slid his hand beneath your panties.

He chuckled against your lips, “You're so wet and I've barely done anything.”

You turned your face to the side, using one hand to cover the blush spreading across your features. As endearing as your bashfulness was, Choso wanted you to be as comfortable with him as possible. He took your wrist in his hand and pulled it from your face, instead placing it atop the painfully throbbing bulge in his pants. “You don’t need to be shy with me. I want you just as bad, if not more. Wanted you since the moment Yuji first brought you home.”

“Really?” you asked, wondering if both of you had been ignoring your feelings for each other all this time.

He nodded. “Really. Still remember the first time I saw you. You were wearing that cute little skirt with the laces in the back, and all I could think about was what it would be like to fuck you in it. You’ll have to wear it for me next time, hm?”

Next time.

“Only if you put in your piercings.”

He laughed at that. “Whatever you want, princess.”

You were both there gazing at each other like fools, the distance slowly but surely closing between you. The kiss was searing, and you were abruptly reminded of the need you felt as Choso made quick work of your bra and panties, leaving you bare beneath him, despite the fact that he was fully clothed. He attached his lips to your neck, sucking dark marks that Yuji would surely see tomorrow morning, and dragged two of his fingers through your folds, gathering slick with his fingers before pushing in. You moaned at the intrusion, your walls clamping down tightly on his fingers. You could feel Choso grin against your throat as he curled his fingers into you, pulling them in and out slowly. Your gasps and moans increased in both tempo and volume until he removed his fingers altogether.

Your protests died in your throat as you saw Choso prop himself on his knees as he removed his shirt, revealing the toned body you had no idea he was hiding beneath his usually baggy tees. He removed his sweats and boxers next, his stiff cock slapping against his stomach. He resumed his position between your legs and stroked himself a few times before lining himself up with your entrance.

He pushed in slowly and you would have screamed from the pleasure of him stretching you out if it wasn't for the hand that swiftly covered your mouth. “I know, baby, I know, but you can’t be too loud.”

He continued to push into you, and every time you thought you had taken all of him there was more. Just when you were sure you couldn't possibly take any more, you felt his balls press firmly against your ass. You were so full, more than you ever had been in your life.

Choso sighed as he filled you completely, the velvety softness of your walls sucking him in greedily. “Oh God you feel too good,” he whispered, the words strangled as he struggled to keep himself still, giving you time to adjust to his size. He watched the way your chest heaved up and down with every labored breath, the way your eyes were glazing over in ecstasy, and the way your sweet cunt fluttered around his cock.

He couldn't take it anymore when you thrust your own hips upwards, the involuntary movement all it took to snap Choso’s composure. He pulled out almost completely, before sinking back in a single thrust. The way your cunt swallowed him so eagerly had him on cloud nine. How had he gone for so long without knowing the bliss that was being inside you.

His cock continued to drill in and out of you, his grunts of pleasure mixing with your moans. The delicious sounds you made spurred him on, and he quickened his movements. He no longer cared if Yuji heard. Let him. Let him know how good Choso made you feel. You were his best friend, but as of now you were also Choso’s girl.

You felt yourself going stupid with the pleasure of having him inside you, his name the only word you were capable of saying. He knew you were close, and he wanted more than anything to feel you clench around him as he brought you to the height of pleasure. He brought his hand down to rub circles against your clit, doing his damndest to make this the best you’ve ever had. “C’mon, baby, cum for me. You can do it. Cum around my cock, show me how good I make you feel.”

Those words were all it took to have you falling over the edge, pussy clenching tightly around Choso, whose own orgasm was triggered by yours. He moaned loudly, feeling too good to worry about volume. He continued to thrust into you as you each rode out your highs, his cum leaking out around him with every push into your used hole.

As soon as the waves of pleasure died out, pulled out and collapsed on top of you. Your pants mixed together as he lay with his head on your chest. You brought your hand up to card your fingers through his hair, and he hummed at your soft touch.

You continued to do so until he propped himself up on his elbows, his face mere inches from yours. “Would you go on a date with me?” he asked nervously.

A broad smile spread across your face, ecstatic that he wanted more from you than just sex. “I’d love to.”

A smile of his own mirrored yours as he surged forward to capture your lips with his own, the happiness exuding from him almost palpable. When he broke the kiss, he rolled off of you and onto his side, pulling you into his chest as he did so. With Choso’s arms wrapped securely around you, you both drifted off in the comfort of each other’s presence, unaware that it was the exact position a younger brother incapable of knocking would find you in in the morning.

#choso kamo x reader #choso x reader #choso kamo #choso smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #choso kamo fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut

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ahundredtimesover · 3 months

Text

I Want You to Stay (04) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

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

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

Chapter Word count: 11.4k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

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

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: Hiii I'm getting slower with editing and writing so please bear with me moving forward! Also pls remember, this is a slow burn haha. But anyway, been loving your replies (I see you) and messages, thank you. I hope you enjoy this one!

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight 🥰

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

The events of last weekend remain in your mind, as you approach Jungkook’s apartment the next Monday and feel like your heart will leap out of your chest.

You remind yourself that he wasn’t angry at you; he’d even tried to apologize and didn’t make a fuss when you left the restaurant last Saturday. But still, the whole incident would make anyone feel agitated, and you know his capacity to feel and express that. He was inconvenienced and put on the spot, after all.

You enter, and shortly after, Jungkook exits the gym then greets you with a nod when he sees you. He looks more tired than anything. He doesn’t have a hint of frustration in his eyes, and you could only hope that he’d forgotten about what happened or, like how he is when it comes to personal matters, he’d chosen not to acknowledge it.

You bow in return, sneaking a glance as he walks towards his bedroom, with your throat drying up when he removes his shirt, briefly gracing you with a view of his glistening toned back right before disappearing inside. You wait half a minute before you follow him to prepare his clothes, giving yourself time to breathe before you have to face him again. You return to the kitchen and prepare his breakfast, looking up when you hear him walk in.

You approach him to do an act that’s become a routine for you, and for him as well, as he stands straight and unmoving while you tighten his tie and make sure he looks fine. Even when your fingers only graze his clothed chest, the memory from last Saturday becomes vivid, as you recall wiping his wine-soaked top, feeling the taut body underneath.

You shake your head at the thought, realizing that there are more things about that night that you should not acknowledge at all, including the heat you felt at seeing him in the washroom, a little exposed and definitely sweaty. There was that tension and the dropping of formalities that felt too foreign and quite disorienting. You don’t know him as anything other than the ‘Mr. Jeon’ you assist; seeing him as just ‘Jungkook’ was different. But you suppose that that’s the man you help everyday, and you wonder how much of himself he leaves behind in the office and how much of him now is just… him.

As you go about your routine during breakfast, you’re reminded that for Jungkook, there doesn’t seem to be a difference. How he is at work is the same as how he is elsewhere - serious, quiet, and detached. Except maybe when he’s with those women he meets at clubs, though. Perhaps the thrill and pleasure inject a bit of emotion and passion in him. You wouldn’t know, but at least it’s a way for him to take a break from the responsibilities he carries.

You scold yourself internally again. You’re not supposed to be curious; you’re not supposed to care. So you shake all of them away and remind yourself of who you are and your own distance that you should observe.

You get to your senses and proceed accordingly. You go about as usual in the morning with his meetings, and then he shuts his office so he could focus in the afternoon. You see his furrowed brows from the window, as he works on what seems to be the Arts Center again, given his requests for financial and marketing reports of the company's non-residential projects from the last five years.

You’re busy with organizing his Singapore trip and coordinating with the CEO’s office about the upcoming Appointment Dinner to formally introduce the new appointees, when he exits his room and looks through the folders lined on the shelf behind you.

“Where are the portfolios of our collaboration projects from 2017?” He asks.

“They’re in the archive room,” you answer, standing up to head there.

But he does it first, beating you to the corner area just off the hallway to the left. Your steps are obviously not at pace with his, and he’s tiptoeing to reach for a large folder by the time you get there. He’s able to retrieve it, laying it on the ledge as he goes through some pages.

“I could’ve gotten that,” you say softly, and Jungkook turns to you and wishes he hadn’t, as your pout makes his insides melt.

There’s something about your disappointment that you didn’t get to help him that makes his heart race a little, and while he knows it has everything to do with you thinking that he’d think you’re not doing your job properly, he still likes to keep the thought that you’d wanted to help him in the first place.

“It was heavy,” he explains.

“I’ve carried and pulled and pushed things way heavier than that folder,” you scoff.

“Really?” Jungkook cocks an eyebrow, trying not to show amusement on his face. “My cousin let you do all those things, huh?”

You frown at his attempt to catch you slipping. “I do many things in the background during events, Mr. Jeon, things that get everything functioning properly while Mr. Jung engages with the guests.”

Jungkook can only imagine how much work you put into getting those events hosted by the VP’s office running. Perhaps retrieving heavy folders is no big deal for you. But still, he doesn’t want to come across as a jerk for making you do something he can do on his own. He already was, he reminds himself, and you also definitely think he is; he doesn’t want to add to that any more, not after everything that’s happened.

So he just nods. “It’s a simple task I can do.”

Jungkook looks at the labeled boxes and folders. He’s got materials and design points to finalize by tonight. There are some more past projects he wants to go through to take inspiration from, and he finds another one he wants to look at, underestimating its weight, which is why he jerks in surprise when he feels how heavy it really is.

You’re there on cue, as if you knew it was gonna be too much. And if he’d asked you, you probably would’ve told him so.

You’re standing much closer to him, your fingers grazing against his as you hold onto the folder. It’s almost familiar, only because you stood this close to him that night at the restaurant, too - when you cleaned him up, and then when you handed him his clothes in the washroom. You actually stand this close to him everyday when you fix his tie. Perhaps after all that, it’s only dawning on you just how little space between you two there are sometimes, and you’re suddenly hyper aware - of the distance, of his scent, of the way he’s looking back at you when you turn to look at him.

“It was heavy,” he admits.

And for some reason, you laugh. Maybe it’s the slightly embarrassed look on his face or it’s just your defense mechanism when you feel tense but you let out an amused sound, with it fading as the time goes by and you realize you’re actually laughing at your boss.

“Making fun of me, Ms. Cho?”

“I… I’m sorry, Mr. Jeon,” you stammer, stepping away.

You’re about to mentally curse yourself until you see his slight smirk, and the thought of him making fun at you by scaring you like that makes you feel better. He may have some sense of humor after all.

Still, you bow in apology, and there’s a moment when you meet his eyes, with something not anger or frustration in them, that you both linger, as if there are things both of you feel that need to be said; you just don’t know what they are.

“Did the dry cleaners get to remove the wine stains?” You manage to get some words out, turning away now as you bring up last Saturday night.

“Uh, yeah,” he responds. There’s a pause before he continues. “Did… did you get home okay?”

You’re too stunned to be able to answer right away but you eventually do. “Uh, yeah. Jimin, Soomin, and I just bought food and then went to my apartment. And you?”

“I did,” he nods.

“Did… did Hajoon bother you again after we left?”

“No. Well, he just kept giving me the death stare but he didn’t do anything else,” he says.

“I really don’t know what got him so worked up,” you sigh, feeling bolder at having to share this much. “He’s not usually confrontational and he knows I hate it. That shouldn’t have happened.”

“People have their reasons for getting angry. They’re not always valid, though, and definitely not always warranted,” Jungkook replies, briefly looking away. “Whatever it is, at least he didn’t throw a punch.”

“Oh, if he did, that is it for me,” you chuckle, feeling unfamiliar with being able to talk to Jungkook so casually like this. “Goodbye, job; goodbye, Seoul. I will probably just work as a librarian somewhere.”

Jungkook wants to say he wouldn’t accept your resignation for that reason, that he doesn’t want you to go anywhere, actually. But that’s too much and probably inappropriate to say given the circumstances. So he just hums and turns back to the folder and looks through them.

“I’ll need these back in my room,” he says, carrying one while you take the other.

You appreciate the topic change, knowing you won’t know how to handle more if the conversation deepens. You both walk back quietly, as it dawns on you that the casual nature you both talked to each other is a little disorienting.

You’re not used to him sounding concerned.

He’s not used to you being honest and open.

Perhaps seeing a different side of him isn’t all that bad, you think.

Jungkook wants to believe it’s your way of forgiving him, too, even if he hasn’t actually apologized for anything.

The minute it takes to return to your respective desks ends, and Jungkook is back to focusing on his designs while you get back to making reservations. You peek inside his room every once in a while to check if he’s okay, if there’s anything else he needs, if there’s anything you can do for him.

The frustrated look on his face isn’t new, but the fact that it isn’t directed at you, is. So is the worried feeling you have for him. You’re a mix of emotions from everything that’s happened this past month, so you can’t deny that the way he’s been acting towards you has left you confused, maybe even doubtful. You have to be cautious, you think, and not fall into a comfortable dynamic with him so easily.

The next day, he’s back to being serious once again, as you sit to his right in the restaurant that will be catering the upcoming VP event. Jungkook decided for both of you to have the food tasting for lunch, and so a spread has been prepared for him to make the final decision on the menu.

You’d like to think that you’ve developed quite a sophisticated palate, all thanks to the numerous events that Hoseok asked you to organize in your three years working under him. With this upcoming dinner party a sort of introduction of Jungkook and the project to the art world, he wants to make sure that he serves only the best to the guests, which is why he carefully tastes each dish, trying to determine the best combination that’s both delicious and creative.

You give your comments, some of which he acknowledges, and you feel like you’re both making headway in terms of the menu, as well as with his disposition for the day, given that he’s looking more comfortable and relaxed than he was half an hour ago.

That is, until he sips his wine for the first time, and clears his throat.

“I believe I specifically said that lunch today is a work matter, Ms. Cho,” he says sternly. “You’re on the clock and this isn’t a break.”

“Y—yes, Mr. Jeon,” you answer, curious as to the reason for his statement.

“Then why is your boyfriend waiting outside the restaurant, trying to catch your attention?”

“What?” You exclaim, turning around and spotting Hajoon standing by the lamppost, his sullen eyes getting a bit of light in them once they meet yours. “I… I don’t know,” you respond. “I haven’t spoken to him since Saturday.”

“How did he know you’re here, then?”

“His restaurant is just up the street,” you sigh. “He must’ve seen me when he was walking there. This area is his usual route. Please just ignore him.”

“I can’t when he’s in my peripheral vision. He’s still the man who got in my face the other night. He clearly wants to speak to you and I don’t think he’ll go away,” Jungkook reasons.

You look at him, waiting for his instructions.

Jungkook doesn’t like that Hajoon is there and he also doesn’t want you to speak with him during work hours, especially if it’s going to affect you for the rest of the day. But the man seems desperate and persistent; he really doesn’t seem like he’ll just let this moment of seeing you pass.

“You have five minutes,” Jungkook says.

You don’t exactly want to go out there; there’s a reason why you haven’t returned Hajoon’s texts or calls these past days. But you can imagine that it’s a worse look for him to be staying around; a distraction during this work matter that you know Jungkook would not appreciate one bit. So you stand up and tell him that you’ll be back shortly.

Jungkook returns to the dish in front of him, noting that the Japanese mushroom risotto is a good addition to the set menu. The event his office is planning includes a sit down dinner and then an offering of canapés and champagne while guests walk around the venue to see the presentation of the Arts Center in large boards and on screens. It will be a good way for him to socialize - something he’s incredibly nervous about because it’s not his strongest suit, nor is it something he enjoys, unlike his cousin. The primary goal, though, is to introduce the project. Jungkook needs important people on board so they can be involved in the launch and the succeeding special activities.

He tries to think about that night and how he wants to design the place. He tries to think of other things, too, like the music and decor, even if he’d said that’s for both of you to plan next week. He’s even thinking of a follow up already, even if his management support team is in charge of that and would be dependent on how this first one is gonna go.

Jungkook tries to think of anything, really, just so he won’t constantly be glancing at you in his periphery, as you talk to the man from the other night and possibly make up. You did leave him at the restaurant last Saturday; you also did clarify that you’re not together. You just said you haven’t spoken since then, so it’s safe to say that both of you aren’t in good terms.

Jungkook can only assume, though. He doesn’t know the story, nor would he ever; he reminds himself he shouldn’t be thinking about it in the first place. He was never one to be privy to his staff’s personal lives; he spent most of his time with Lucas but didn’t know more than his family's composition. Jungkook doesn’t even recall knowing if Lucas had a partner, or if his then-assistant even mentioned it.

But clearly, Hoseok knows more about you than Jungkook would’ve expected. Perhaps it’s just how his cousin is, or maybe the time spent together just created that environment where it’s natural or normal. Maybe it’s the culture that his father encouraged; his old man is quite close with Mr. Ri - his former chauffeur and bodyguard - and Mrs. Myung - his executive assistant, after all.

But it’s not what Jungkook is used to; it’s not how he spent his few years in the Singapore office because like always, all he did was work and party. His mentor in graduate school also advised him that professional lines are ones he shouldn’t cross. Though Jungkook never really knew what exactly those were, he just dared not get close to anyone or be remotely interested at all, and that never caused him any problem. He’s always been safe where he was, guarded and unbothered.

But ever since you walked through those doors at Hoseok’s office that first Friday, Jungkook has been finding himself skirting near the boundaries far too often, and it’s only been a month. It began with making sure you’re eating well and that you’re safe on the way to work; he convinces himself that’s human decency, although he never really bothered much before.

And between wanting you to get proper rest before your trip to your hometown, to seeing you with that man from last weekend and being so bothered by it that it caused a scene, Jungkook’s internal alarm bells are ringing, telling him that he’s getting too interested, too close. It doesn’t help that he finds you attractive, something he doesn’t have control over. What he does have a say in is how he responds to it, and that has been incredibly tough, especially given the weekend he’s had.

He’d spent the rest of it trying to keep his mind off you - the way you looked in that outfit, the way your touch sent shivers down his spine, the way you’d looked at him worriedly… And when you walked out of that restaurant, he wondered what you were thinking, how you were feeling, how you’d be spending the rest of the night, and if you were gonna be home okay. He hasn’t really stopped since.

Even now, as he stays in his seat and tightly grips his glass of wine at the scene unfolding outside.

You’re standing with your arms crossed - setting the boundaries, and perhaps signaling your detachment, though he can’t see your face. The man, on the other hand, seems emotional, the tinge of sadness evident on his face. But there’s a mix of frustration and anger, too, as his arms flail around. He points at you, then at himself. His voice seems raised; Jungkook swears he can see the veins from the man’s neck popping out while you… you’ve got your head turned to the side, your body not eliciting much of the emotion the way the man’s is.

Jungkook stops himself from making an excuse for you to come back inside, just so he can pull you away from a conversation that you don’t seem to be wanting to have. But he knows it’s not his place, and the man might make a scene again if Jungkook decides to step in. You know how to stand up for yourself; you’d done it to him, he reminds himself. You’ll do what you need to do, whatever it is.

The man heaves, as whatever monologue he was giving ends. He reaches out to you, perhaps making a final plea, but you step back, widening the distance. It’s what prompts him to bow his head and turn around, leaving you by the lamppost on your own.

Jungkook sighs in relief now and he waits for you to return, but he’s surprised when you stay rooted in your spot, your arms wrapping around yourself despite the heat outside. He worries when you enter, your head bowed down and unable to look at him.

He wants to ask how you are, but he’s unsure if he’s ready for your answer, knowing that there isn’t much he can do anyway. So he goes with what he knows - detachment.

“I’ve chosen the last two dishes,” he says. “They’re serving the desserts soon.”

You turn to him immediately, your misty eyes painted with worry meeting his own.

��I didn’t think I was away that long,” you state, worried about the time you left your boss waiting while dealing with a personal matter that for the first time made you wish you were stuck with Jungkook instead. “I’m sorry, Mr. Jeon.”

He didn’t expect you to look so upset. He’s terrible at comforting people, but even if he wasn’t, he doesn’t know if he’d manage to comfort you. So he just shrugs and says that they were straightforward dishes.

You both try the desserts then the canapés, exchanging thoughts about all the options before shortlisting your chosen dishes. By the time the food tasting is over, you’re stuffed and set for the rest of the day.

You try not to look at Jungkook. You don’t know if he’d seen how your conversation went with Hajoon, but if he had, he could probably tell what was going on even if he couldn’t hear anything.

He’s had his moments, but you’ve never seen Hajoon look that upset and emotional, and you stood there, afraid to face all his feelings that you didn’t know what to do with, all those words that you didn’t know how to take. You’re usually one who’s able to let negative things said to you just go over your head, but something about what he’d said today hit you; you know it’ll take you until tomorrow to get over them.

But you try to get through the rest of the day the way you usually do - going through reports, organizing schedules, finalizing tomorrow’s presentation, and then working on the revised interdepartmental guidelines that Jungkook tasked you to do.

There are draft letters you send to him, thinking that you’ll work on some administrative matters while he reviews them, but you’re surprised when he calls for you 10 minutes later, saying the letters are approved and you can send them in the morning. You’re left wondering, given that anything you submit to him usually goes through intense scrutiny. Perhaps you’re not used to this easy pass, but you try not to overthink it, given the day you’ve had.

“You can go home, Ms. Cho,” he says as he types away.

It’s 5:30 PM. Usually this time, he’s still handing you things to review or instructing you on what else to do.

He seems to pick up on your silence, as without looking at you, he clarifies. “I don’t need you to do things you can do tomorrow. We’ll have meetings all day so I understand if you want to stay behind but you don’t have to.”

He doesn’t seem like he’ll be finishing soon, and you’re really not in the best mood so you nod and bid him goodbye.

The conversation with Hajoon stays in your mind all night and lasts until the next day. You’re in Jungkook’s penthouse the next morning, preparing his breakfast while he takes a shower.

With your phone snug under your neck, you relay to Soomin what happened yesterday. She was too busy last night for a call and she’s been bugging you since you got in the car - that you continue to ride as per your boss’ instructions - so you finally picked up, knowing how long it usually takes for Jungkook to finish.

“It started with him apologizing, then wondering why I haven’t been picking up his calls, then justifying his actions from last Saturday as him, standing up for me,” you narrate. “Obviously, I didn’t take those too kindly. But he said he wanted to be with me, like, have an actual relationship. And I said I didn’t want to then he just… he kinda just said everything he’s been keeping in.”

“Which is what?” Soomin asks.

“That I’m selfish, that I don’t think about what my actions may mean to others, which is silly since I was clear from the start about what I wanted from him,” you sigh. “He said that I act independent but that’s just a front, that deep down I’m a lonely woman who’ll probably push away every person who’s shown me they care until I have no one left and that’s why I’ll be alone forever, which he says is a deep fear that I have because I apparently told him that when I was drunk. And even after all that, he said he still cares about me, that he wants to try to be something for real this time, that if I just let him, he’ll love me right and make me happy and I just backed away, like, why would you—”

The clearing of the throat cuts you off, and you nearly drop the expensive plate due to panic once you look up and see Jungkook standing by the kitchen.

“I’m so sorry for taking a personal call, Mr. Jeon,” you say immediately, putting away your phone. “It won’t happen again.”

You bow your head down in apology, which is why you don’t see the way Jungkook’s eyes soften as he looks at you. Words like that hurt, and he can’t imagine what it must’ve felt like for you hearing them. Still, you went about yesterday with your accomplished tasks and completed deliverables like it didn’t happen, displaying a kind of strength that he could only hope to have.

“Yesterday was a tough, I suppose,” he states, choosing to ignore your apology.

“It was a normal one,” you brush off, walking towards him to fix his tie, not meeting his gaze.

Jungkook doesn’t reply, knowing you don’t want to acknowledge that he’d overheard your conversation, which he didn’t mean to walk in on. It did bother him, too; he suddenly wishes he’d fought back if that man was just going to speak to you that way.

There’s a sadness in your eyes that he tries not to mind and which you try to trivialize. Perhaps the man matters that much to you for you to be feeling this bad; Jungkook doesn’t really know what to do with that thought. So he tries to brush it off, too, telling you instead to be ready for today’s meeting with his father.

You ask if he’s checked the presentation you worked on, as you added things from the last time. He nods and says he only added minimal details that he came up with last night, and you check to find that he indeed just made minute changes, another thing that you’re thankful for yet wary of, especially given how critical he was about your work in the beginning.

You continue with your morning routine of debriefing about yesterday’s meetings, then you finalize the Arts Center event’s menu in the car. When you arrive at the office, you wait patiently as he goes through some reports that you’ve checked, then he reviews some memos that he asked you to work on.

The last one finishes faster than you expected. It seems now that his comments are what you look for, only because it reminds you that he hasn’t changed; somehow that seems like a better thought to have than him suddenly being lenient or lowering his standards for you for some unknown reason. He’s definitely witnessed some of your low moments; you don’t want to think those have anything to do with how he’s been lately.

The meeting with the management support team ends before lunch time, and you work on the minutes and the other things Jungkook had asked of you during the time that he meets with Yoongi in his office. That takes another half hour, and by the time they’re done, you’re done with your tasks, too, so you send those documents to Jungkook for checking in the afternoon.

Another one off the list, you think to yourself. At this point, you’re just going over all your deliverables with a focused mindset and waiting for the day’s end so you can spend time for yourself, just on the couch watching variety shows and movies until the weekend comes when you can do that for longer hours.

Having your friends over or traveling to Daegu are the only other things you look forward to. You used to look forward to spending the night at Hajoon’s, too; you could at least feel something pleasurable - the closest you could get to any form of intimacy that didn’t require you to bare yourself other than your body. But that’s a thing of the past now - there’s that amazing life-changing toy that Soomin got you last Sunday that’s got you thinking that you’ll be fine being alone for the rest of your life.

“Long day, huh?”

You look up and see Yoongi, his curious eyes scanning your desk full of papers, folders, and half-eaten biscuits.

“It has been,” you sigh.

“I see. It’s also only just 12 noon,” he points out.

“What a shocking revelation, Min Yoongi,” you grunt. “I don’t need to be reminded that I have another six hours here.”

“Hmm, just like me. So, what are you looking forward to when you clock out?”

“My leftover stir-fry for dinner that I’m going to add beef to,” you respond. “And The Zone. I missed it last Monday.”

“You and your variety shows,” he chuckles.

“What other reason do I have to laugh, hmm?”

“I’d say me, but you don’t find me funny.”

“You aren’t, sorry,” you smile, your first of the day, and Yoongi smiles back, knowing you haven’t been doing it the past few weeks.

“So–”

“Ms. Cho,” Jungkook’s voice cuts Yoongi off, as your boss stands by his open door with curious eyes that flit from you to the man in front of you. He recovers though, as he instructs, “the minutes are fine. Send it to the team now so they can work on their tasks.”

“You’ve read it?” You speak too soon, realizing a second too late that the words didn’t stay in your head. Your widened eyes don’t help you though, as Jungkook scowls at you.

“Are you asking me if I’ve read the file that I just approved and instructed you to disseminate?”

Yoongi purses his lips to hold off a laugh, and you glare at him because his teasing isn’t really what you need right now.

“I meant, uh, you’ve reviewed it already, sir? I… thought… you were going to prepare for the lunch meeting instead,” you reason, which isn’t even a lie.

“I have. Father hasn’t called me up so I just reviewed the minutes while waiting.”

You look at the file and see that nothing has been added. “And? That’s it?”

“Ms. Cho, are you questioning my ability to review?” He asks, his eyebrows furrowed as he starts to look displeased, although they seem harmless compared to his frustrated expressions from the past.

“No, Mr. Jeon, I apologize,” you say. “I was wondering if you didn’t have anything more to add, that’s all.”

“There’s none,” he clarifies. “Just send it to the team and uh… get ready for the meeting.”

He glances at Yoongi before closing the door.

“Questioning your boss’ ability to review now, huh?” Yoongi teases.

“Shut up. He’s just been weird,” you pout.

“That’s new. How so?”

“He hasn’t been an asshole for a few days.”

“Well, that’s quite the standard but I get you, I guess,” Yoongi hums. “In what way has he been out of character?”

“He just… hasn’t been pointing things out and correcting my submissions or asking a lot of questions about the reports I review,” you say. “Or just… you know, he hasn’t been him. He makes Mr. Ri pick me up every morning, he doesn’t email on the weekend, I get to leave on time, I get to eat properly…”

“In short, he’s been a decent boss recently?”

“I guess… I mean, it’s been two weeks since my mishap. He’s been quite tolerable these past few days. Maybe he hit his head and some loose screws tightened. Maybe he had a bad dream and the ghost of the future me visited him. Maybe he had a change of heart… though that’s highly unlikely. Maybe he–”

“Realized he hasn’t been good to you and doesn’t want you to go through the horror of another Mrs. Byun,” Yoongi interjects.

Your curious eyes prompt him to continue. “We had a meeting the other day and I saw a folder on his desk with her name on it. Formal complaints are only available in physical copies; other personnel files are stored in the server, so the only documents he’d have of her are the ones of her investigation. And he’d only be interested in that because of you. Those include your written statements.”

“As do you yours,” you point out.

“Yes, he’d totally be interested in how his design lead witnessed a manager’s abuse of power three years ago,” Yoongi sarcastically says.

You sigh to yourself. You’ve never told Jungkook about your experience with Mrs. Byun, but you wouldn’t be surprised if Hoseok or even Yoongi has mentioned it to him. It’s an experience you don’t like to think about; you were a young woman who had everything to prove, who had a lot to lose, and conceding to someone taking advantage of you seemed like the only way to survive. Not once did you put your foot down, and not once did you stand up for yourself. You experienced all those then went home to an empty house and found comfort in your own warmth and your own breathing.

You don’t want that experience to determine how others would treat you after. Hoseok was all things gentle and warm and you know that whatever you went through wouldn’t have determined how he treated you.

But Jungkook… Jungkook is different. This isn’t his default state. This isn’t how he normally is. This isn’t how you started. The last thing you want is for him to feel pity for all that you went through - in the past and recently - and then treat you differently because of it. He’s been less critical, less judgmental, and less doubtful of your capabilities. You only wish it isn’t for anything that he’d read or seen you experience.

“I doubt it,” you shake your head. “A man that perpetually displeased doesn’t just decide one day that he’d give the bare minimum of decency to his assistant.”

“Look, ___. Jungkook is a lot of things. He has a lot of feelings that he doesn’t want to deal with, and a lot of emotions he doesn’t know how to express,” Yoongi tries to explain. “I wouldn’t be friends with him if I didn’t believe there’s an ounce of goodness in him. And there is. Maybe him showing it just isn't good timing. He’s terrible at that, too. In fact, he’s terrible at a lot of things, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t try. It doesn’t mean he isn’t capable of kindness.”

“Kindness,” you huff. That’s quite a reach, but Yoongi’s always been a good judge of character. You do want to believe what he says about Jungkook; it’s just not an easy switch to flip. “I’m just trying not to care much at this point,” you sigh. “I come to work, focus on my tasks, do whatever I’m asked, go back home, rinse and repeat.”

“Is it satisfying, though?”

“When was work ever satisfying, Yoongi?” You laugh bitterly.

“Well, I could at least recall seeing you enjoy organizing those events for Hoseok and even joining him in some,” Yoongi points out. “I… I saw you smile a lot. There was a bit of satisfaction there, yeah?”

“Somehow, I guess. But I just had to make do. Hoseok was great, but this is also my job, really the only thing going for me.”

“What are you working towards, then?”

“I don’t really know. Maybe at 30 I should know but I really don’t.”

“Then why are you still here?” He asks, softly, desperately. “Why do you stay?”

“And find out who I am outside of all this?” You wonder out loud. “What if I don’t like her? What if she isn’t good?”

“Then this place hasn’t been good for you if you doubt who you are outside of what you’ve done here,” Yoongi says. “You’re just 30; there’s a whole world out there where you can learn who you are and be someone you actually like. I don’t know what’s stopping you.”

A lot of things, you think to yourself. But when you find comfort in discomfort, when you find security in chaos, and when you find companionship in loneliness, it’s not that easy to leave all this behind, even if deep down, you know it’s what you have to do.

“I don’t know, too,” you lie. “Maybe I’ll find a good enough reason one day and that would be it; I’ll be out of here and then I can find out if I like myself outside of everything I know.”

“I think you would.”

I did, Yoongi thinks to himself. He knows you’d laugh and agree; he’s moved on from you and things can’t be any better than how your friendship is right now, but he also knows you’re not the best at feelings, a similarity he realizes you have with the person you supposedly dislike.

“I won’t know until then, I guess. So I just gotta bear with who I am now,” you say.

There’s so much of you that Yoongi doesn’t know. It’s why he wanted to, why he asked you out for coffee and why he felt a bit of a heartbreak when you turned him down. But there are parts of you that he does know, that you let him see, and sometimes he finds himself wishing you’d find someone you’d feel safe enough with to share everything else you keep to yourself.

He keeps these things to himself, too. He’s learned that the only way to keep you close is to keep his distance; you’ll reach out if you need to, even if it’s something you rarely do. But what’s important is that he’ll be there just in case; what matters is you know that there’s a hand available when you need it.

So he just nods and takes your word for it. You’ll find yourself somehow, in whatever way you will. And you’ll find a reason to leave, whenever that is. He could only hope it’s a decision you’d make on your own, one that you won’t regret, and one that’ll lead you to find whatever it is that you’re looking for.

“So what, they want to put a stop to the Arts Center? They’re not the ones working hard for it. And quite frankly, I don’t need their help in any way to make it happen.”

Jungkook shakes his head in disbelief, anger manifesting in the way he clenches his jaw and groans repeatedly. It’s a sight you’re familiar with by now, and for the first time, you feel for him. It feels as if with this project, he doesn’t seem to have anyone on his side, aside from Hoseok, who’s been encouraging and helpful in many ways.

“They don’t want to stop it, son,” CEO Jeon says. “They’re merely questioning some of your decisions about the prices you’ve set out.”

“In short, they’re undermining me,” Jungkook groans. “This is my project. We’ve done the necessary research. If they read the report, they’d know. But clearly, they just want reasons to doubt all this, to doubt me.”

“It’s just the first project of its kind,” his father reasons. “The arts institution from 2017 was a collaboration and it wasn’t this big. The Arts Center just isn’t the usual commercial establishment that the VP office undertakes. The Board just wants to be clear about the profits because it’s not as straightforward as the others. They want to know how the property will earn.”

“Exhibition entrance tickets, bookings, rent,” Jungkook replies. “What’s not straightforward about that? Might as well say they don’t understand or even value arts and culture because that makes money, and if done right and respectfully, it can make a lot of money. I know what I’m doing.”

“It’s not like I didn’t make those points, son. It’s your first big project. I think they just—”

“Don’t believe I can manage it on my own.”

“They don’t think you can make the necessary connections on your own,” CEO Jeon finally says. “We all know how important that is. They doubt you’d be able to forge good relationships with professionals in an industry we don’t really have strong connections to. And with a project this big, it’s the company’s resources and reputation on the line.”

There’s silence in the room, as Jungkook seems to process the core issue that the Board has with him. You can tell it’s affecting him so much, as the anger in his eyes slowly turns into resignation.

It’s no secret that Jungkook’s way of engaging with others leaves a lot to be desired. From what you can see, he’s used to thinking more, envisioning, planning - the concepts and designs are amazing in his head and there are others tasked to sell that idea, to make it connect with people, to express why it matters, and to make sure it earns. That’s what Hoseok is good at; Jungkook never seemed like the type who enjoys that aspect of the work.

“You should’ve thought about my outstanding interpersonal skills before appointing me as Vice President, then,” he says bitterly. “Clearly that’s what the Board and everyone else value more than anything.”

“Hey, Kook. We know you’re good for this role,” Hoseok comforts. “And we believe in your project, we really do. Just focus on that. Make sure you’re constantly adjusting and refining the plans, and remind the Board that your ideas are even better when they’ve come to life. You’ve done it with your other projects before. Eventually you’ll be able to show them that you’re more than capable of forging relationships, too. That’ll come naturally. But in the meantime, you just have to give them something to make them believe it’ll be good for the company and our image in the long-run. Make them envision it.”

“I have,” Jungkook argues. “And I’ll keep doing that. I just need father to be on my side. I just need him to back me up, to trust me and every single one of my decisions.”

You’ve never heard desperation in Jungkook’s voice until today and you’re surprised with how much it’s affecting you, not just because you know how much effort he’s put into conceptualizing the place but because you’ve come to believe in it, too.

“Ms. Cho.”

CEO Jeon’s voice pulls you away from Jungkook, and you turn to the older man and ask if there’s anything he needs.

“Your thoughts,” he responds. “What would the Arts Center mean for the company? Do you think it will yield profits?”

They’re not questions that are new to you. Hoseok would often ask you these things about the smaller projects that go through him. CEO Jeon has asked you the same things in informal situations before, not so much to gain new insight - although he claims that your thoughts are interesting to him - but to gauge your belief in the project. He has a good read on people; you’ve observed him ask questions and pick apart not what they said but how they said it. You suppose that’s what he’s doing now, too.

“You’ve mentioned a few times that you want to expand the company’s market, Mr. Jeon,” you start. “And if I remember correctly, the Board agreed. Efforts to cater to expats and the middle class have been successful, but perhaps another type of expansion is in engaging the field of the arts and culture and its creators and consumers. More people from all walks of life and all over the world are gaining interest in Korean art and culture in all forms and the company has the resources to create a space for it. Like what the Vice President said, there’s an opportunity to earn from it while, of course, respecting it.”

You see CEO Jeon and Hoseok nod, a sight you’ve seen before as well. But Jungkook looks at you with curiosity, with a look of anticipation, as if he’s hanging onto every word you’re saying.

“The Arts Center was conceptualized and designed to be a hub for all things creative,” you continue. “Making general admission free makes the arts accessible to people, and once that appreciation grows, they’ll pay to see it, to experience it. Just go to any online forum and you’ll see that the public wants to experience art, not just observe it. They’d travel for it. The Center has spaces for that. I think that’s the ultimate goal - for anyone to be immersed in it. And that can happen through art pieces in a gallery or in a garden, through books, music, or spoken poetry, or even a photoshoot. Patrons can book rooms for private events, they can buy from the gift shop, they can do art themselves. It’s like a canvas and they can take part in creating meaning for the space. That’s what we’re selling. And that’s something people are willing to buy.”

“I see your point, Ms. Cho,” CEO Jeon says, nodding satisfyingly at you. “And it’s a good one.”

“It’s what Mr. Jeon has been saying all this time,” you counter. “It’s easy to understand and to buy into the idea… if only the Board would listen to him. If only they’d open their mind to what he envisions.”

“Well, that’s one way to get through to them, then,” Hoseok voices out. “Invite them to the arts event, treat them like creators and consumers, not as Board members.”

“That’s a good idea,” CEO Jeon says. “Maybe then they can see how you engage with the guests, which I hope you’re working on. And while you’re at it, work on your relationship with them, too. That means initiating conversations, seeking them out… It's part of the job, son. The Board are our stakeholders, too, you know this.”

“Aren’t some of them based in Japan and Singapore?” You wonder aloud, hinting at another suggestion that you want would come from Jungkook himself, given his scheduled plans to fly there.

“Yeah. Maybe I can meet them the next time I go,” he says, picking up on your thoughts.

Jungkook isn’t really fond of engaging with them. He always just left the socializing part to his uncle who used to head the Southeast Asian office. When Jungkook would be in Seoul, he let his father, Hoseok, and Ji-woo deal with them, with nothing but an acknowledgment on his end. He tends to stay at the bar on his own just to drown out the sounds. Yoongi sometimes joins him but most times, Jungkook finds himself alone even during such events; being with a lot of people is tiring, lonesome, isolating. With this new role, he’s started to accept that he has to do more. It doesn’t mean he’ll enjoy it though.

“I’ll have that arranged for you,” you tell him.

“Well then, that’s one way to revamp your image,” the older man smiles. “You just have to keep that up moving forward. That’s why Ms. Cho is there. She’s used to these events and these engagements with them. You’ll be fine.”

You give a reassuring smile to Jungkook - a genuine one, as you see it’s what he needs, given all that you learned from today’s meeting. He merely nods, and you think that should be enough of an acknowledgment from his end.

Hoseok wraps it up, going through a few policy-related items and then reminding the other men about upcoming social gatherings that they all need to attend. He asks to briefly speak with Jungkook, whom he pulls aside, while the elder Mr. Jeon approaches you.

“Thank you for standing by Jungkook, Ms. Cho, especially since I haven’t been able to show my support the way I want to,” he says. “I know it hasn’t been easy.”

“It hasn’t, but he made me believe in his vision for the Center,” you respond. “I’m starting to see what he sees. And it’s quite beautiful.”

Jungkook overhears the exchange, as he zoned out on Hoseok once he heard his father address you.

It’s something that his cousin picks up, as he repeats what he just said, totally unbothered by it.

Hoseok, of all people, knows how important it is that you have Jungkook’s back. He also knows how difficult that must be for you, given how the man has been towards you all these weeks.

But you’re unwavering. You’re able to withstand the challenges, and while Hoseok knows that you do have a tendency to also allow yourself to suffer through it, he also knows you’ve learned, and you’ll stand your ground if you need to; he’ll back you up, and he can only hope you know that.

You all exit the private room of the restaurant and head back to the office across the street. It’s 4PM by the time you return to your desk, given that Jungkook called for a meeting with the management support team after what transpired during lunch.

You immediately work on the minutes and action points, finishing two hours later and then deciding that you’ll work on your next deliverable tomorrow.

Jungkook exits his room, informing you that he’ll be leaving for an early dinner with Hoseok at a nearby restaurant, and that Mr. Ri can drop you off at your place. You’ve contested the service that was offered to you, and you and Jungkook settled on a compromise that you can go home on your own except for late nights.

“Mr. Ri will just be waiting for me anyway. No harm in driving you home tonight,” Jungkook says, knowing you were about to turn down the offer.

“Okay, sir,” you reply.

You do last minute things and pack up immediately to go home, taking this chance to get proper rest because you know the last two days of the week are going to be tiring.

The next day, Jungkook does conference calls and closed-door meetings, leaving you to do summary reports and other administrative backlogs that have your eyebrows scrunched the entire day. If it wasn’t for Do-hyun reminding you about lunch that you promised to have with her, you would’ve totally forgotten.

You’re in the zone as you go through the afternoon - two meetings straight that have Jungkook rubbing his temples constantly and you doing the same. But you pop in some aspirin and ginseng jelly next to his cup of tea, feeling satisfied when he takes them.

You go home on time, not wanting to be offered a ride for a consecutive night, and you get proper rest to face the final day of the week.

It’s all going well, as you find a rhythm early on as you work on your deliverables while Jungkook remains focused on his own tasks. You’re the one who reminds him now to eat his lunch, and seeing the blueprints sprawled on his desk, you offer to buy him one yourself.

He nods in appreciation as you state his usual order for confirmation, and you eat your sandwich while waiting for his curry rice bowl in the food hall. You get back to your tasks, thankful for the unusually quiet and uneventful Friday.

You see now how hyper focused Jungkook could get. He’s got his blinds closed but you can tell that he’s immersed in his designs and proposals and plans. He’s not allowing calls or visitors, and he only rings you to ask for coffee, which you’ve given him four times so far. Towards the end of the day, you’re the one who asks to go in, informing him that the Board meeting has been moved to a week earlier than scheduled; it’s two Fridays from now, which means his team has to finalize everything soon.

It’s his first one since becoming Vice President, and given how he used to question you, you’re surprised when he asks your proposed timeline to prepare for the meeting.

“Manager Lee is already consolidating all the departmental reports,” you respond. “You can instruct him to finalize the VP report with all those by Wednesday; the presentation can be due on Friday so you can go through all of them. We can submit the report for CEO review the Monday after that and then you can prepare for your run through until the meeting.”

“Sounds good,” he replies. “I’ll send them an email with the instructions shortly.”

“Noted, sir,” you say. “I’ve also submitted the minutes of the past two days’ meetings as well as the policy guidelines you asked for.”

“Oh, right,” he says, taking his iPad. “I’ve looked through them. The minutes are good; you can disseminate them accordingly. I’ve highlighted the parts for the condensed version you’ll send to the CEO and the President. I also have minimal corrections and remarks on the policy guidelines and I’ve edited them directly on the file. Just proofread again and then affix my signature once you’ve finished.”

“Y—you’re done?” You ask. You hope he doesn’t pick up the shock in your voice.

“Yes, and I’ve read them. Thoroughly,” he answers.

You smile in embarrassment after the other day.

“Does that bother you?” He follows up.

“N-no, sir,” you say, knowing he’s waiting for an answer. “I guess I was expecting you to take longer because, you know, more comments. And you’ve been busy all day, too.”

“More comments… Is that what you’re expecting?”

“Sort of,” you admit. “I mean… you made a lot of them before.”

You pout in reflex as you realize how you sound. You’re basically pointing out how critical he used to be, and if you’re being honest, you do wish he still was. At least that tells you that he’s still the same, that no knowledge of your past experience with your former boss has made him change his disposition towards you.

Jungkook sees your pout, and he crosses his arms and legs to keep himself from doing something as stupid as wiping it off you. It’s a little disarming for him, if he’s being honest.

“I didn’t mean that in a bad way,” you clarify.

Liar, you think to yourself.

“Well, if I used to do it a lot and I still do that after a month in, wouldn’t it reflect poorly on you and me if you still haven’t learned from all that?” He asks.

You think about it and eventually nod. He does have a point.

“You’ve adapted. I’d be worried if you continued to do things the way you used to,” he adds.

You nod again, taking in all his words. Much as you appreciate them, there’s another thought still bugging you.

“May I be honest, Mr. Jeon?” You ask, your heart beating fast now as he looks at you curiously.

He nods anyway and asks you to continue.

“I don’t think you’d lower your standards or anything when it comes to my work,” you start. “So I don’t want to believe that you pity me just because you know what I experienced in the past.”

He looks at you questioningly, as if to ask what you’re talking about.

“I spotted Mrs. Byun’s files on your table,” you lie. “I assume you’ve read about how she treated me. And I… I don’t want to be pitied, Mr. Jeon. If it’s that, please don’t. Please don’t let it affect how you’d treat me. It wasn’t even that bad—”

“It was,” he interjects. “This company doesn’t tolerate people who abuse their power. I only knew about your case because I’m thorough with my work. And that includes looking into my staff and their past. I did it for everyone,” he lies as well.

Hoseok and Yoongi had mentioned something about a past experience and Jungkook did dig deep. It was so he could help you professionally, he convinced himself.

“You should also know that I don’t make compromises when it comes to the quality of work of my staff and that means I don’t pity people if they fail to meet my standards. But I suppose you think that I do because of how I was in the beginning,” he continues, surprising you. “I admit I was being too critical. And I don’t have an excuse, just that I absolutely hate change. I’m not good at managing it and I reacted in a way that I’m used to, which is not a good way at all. I know now that I was not fair to you.”

The apology doesn’t come, but you know that the admission means enough already. It’s definitely taken a huge burden off of you. You didn’t dream up all those incidents and it wasn’t entirely on you. That itself gives you relief.

“My father and cousin were right. You’re a fast learner. You pick up on the comments, work on them immediately, and adjust accordingly. It’s a good trait to have, Ms. Cho.”

“I appreciate that, Mr. Jeon.”

“May I be honest, too?” He asks, surprising you again.

You nod, anticipating what he’d say, knowing he’s never been this quiet nor looked this nervous in all these weeks you’ve known him.

“What you said to my father about the Arts Center the other day, I appreciate that, too,” he says. “I guess you could’ve said something general or basic but you didn’t.”

“Your father wouldn’t have minded what I said,” you reply. “What mattered was how I said it. I guess as the person who’s privy to a lot of things about the project, he sincerely wanted to know what I thought about it, if I genuinely believed in it.”

“Well, it was a good way to convince him. And it seemed like he believed you.”

“I’m not a good actor, Mr. Jeon,” you chuckle. “He believed it because I meant it. And he saw that I was on your side. As I should. I still meant it, though.”

“That’s… encouraging,” he huffs. “At least one person is.”

“I’m sure he does, too.”

“It’s ironic that people like Mr. Ri think that my father and I are so alike, yet we don’t see eye to eye most of the time.”

“It’s because you are alike. You both think you’re right all the time,” you joke, teetering on the edge and sighing in relief when he laughs, a sound you don’t think you’ve ever heard.

“You make a good point,” he smiles a tiny bit, something you also don’t think you’ve ever seen him do. “But I’m still adjusting to working directly with him, and in a bigger role, too. We'll probably butt heads a lot.”

“You will. I already know it. In fact, I can already see it,” you laugh again.

It’s a moment you share with him that you didn’t imagine you ever would. He’s being honest about his concerns and you’re giving comfort in the way you know how and neither of you seems to mind.

“I’m… I’m gonna need your help, Ms. Cho,” he says so softly, his eyes turning away from you. “I’m gonna need your assistance. Not just in seeing the Arts Center through but in everything - navigating this role, dealing with my father, dealing with people. I… I know what I’m good at. So I don’t really focus on the things I don’t do well in but this position forces me to confront those and I… I’ll need help.”

For someone who doesn’t seem to like being vulnerable in front of others, seeing this side of Jungkook makes you sympathetic. The soft tone of his voice, the lack of eye contact, the crossed arms… they’re familiar because it’s how you are, and you know it’s difficult to be this honest with another person, especially when it’s about what you need.

More than wanting to help him because it’s your job, you find yourself wanting to see him succeed, too, to see him manage it all. That way, when you do eventually leave the company and search whatever it is you’re looking for, you can rest easy knowing that he’ll be okay, that the team will be okay, that the Arts Center will be all that he imagined it to be.

“I’m here, Mr. Jeon,” you assure him. “I’ll do my best to provide you with the assistance you need.”

“Thank you,” he mutters, and you don’t think you’ve ever heard him say those words with such sincerity to you, too.

You bow in acknowledgement and head out, leaving Jungkook in a haze, as he realizes that in your presence, he’d done what he's been trying to avoid ever since you walked in his life - be honest. He’d told you his concerns, his needs, and it seems that his honesty is something you appreciated as well. There was that acceptance that he wouldn’t have expected from you, not because you aren’t the type to give it but because he hasn’t given you a reason to. But you gave it regardless; you let him feel that it was okay.

It’s another half hour before he’s packing up to head home. It’s been a tiring week and he just wants to have a long bath, watch sports, and drink a cold beer over grilled meat. He’ll probably get some work done but maybe he’ll drive to some resort out of town, have a good workout, get in a sauna, and have a massage. He’ll have a nice meal with his friends and then go to a club. Or maybe he’ll just stay in. There’s something about being honest that makes him want to keep to himself for a while. He’ll start with that tonight, as he turns down Taehyung’s invite to another one of his client’s party.

Jungkook walks out and sees your desk empty, but he does hear your voice coming from the management support team’s room, telling them about your weekend plans as well.

“I’m going to the film festival in Incheon,” you say. “And probably just stay at a hostel.”

“Are you going by yourself?” Do-hyun asks.

“Uh, yeah,” you reply.

Hajoon was supposed to go with you. He invited himself, actually, and you should’ve read into the fact that he’d wanted to experience your interests with you. You hadn’t minded, and that’s clearly out of the picture now.

“I usually go to them by myself,” you add.

“Well, if you decide you want to invite one of us or hang out, you can always let us know,” Chin-sun teases, knowing you probably won’t.

“Let’s wait until we’re not too tired and busy, okay?” You chuckle. “That way, we can afford to do whatever we want on the weekends.”

“Yup, that’ll probably never happen,” Do-hyun pouts. “When are we not tired and busy? It’s probably worse this time because we don’t get to laugh and joke around like we used to. Are we even getting a holiday? Will we have an out-of-town team building? Or dinners and karaoke like how Mr. Jung used to treat us to?”

“The team-building is budgeted so yes, we’ll have it,” you tell them. “And dinners? I can maybe suggest that to Mr. Jeon. And come on, no one’s stopping you from laughing or joking around. You can still do all that.”

“Yeah, but sometimes I feel like I’m not allowed to because it might seem like I’m not serious about my job because our boss is too serious and it doesn’t seem right,” Do-hyun whines.

And for the first time, you feel genuinely bad for how they think about Jungkook. You don’t blame them though, but the man you saw earlier who broke into a small smile is definitely capable of laughter; you just don’t know how to elicit it from him again.

“He’s just been under a lot of pressure, but he doesn’t prohibit you from finding joy in anything,” you say. “Just… give him some time, okay? He’ll come around. Let’s just focus on our work and then focus on ourselves when the weekend comes. So all of you, pack up now and go home to your families and your pets. We’ve got a long few weeks ahead.”

Jungkook hears a collective okay then heads out right away, the initial thought of saying goodbye to the team having dissipated. He can’t blame them for voicing out their frustrations over the change in how they’re being managed. Hoseok was loved. He built a competent team whose spirit Jungkook is afraid he’s now breaking. But he’s not like his cousin, and he doesn’t know how to reach out to them in a way that’s genuine. He let the pressure get to him too much early on and while he’s not the type to forge connections with his staff, he’s seeing now how important it is for him as Vice President to do that.

But it’s too much to think about for today. He’ll let this affect him a little bit and then figure things out. Based on what he heard though, he’s not on his own. You were on his side again, even when you thought he wasn’t around. There’s something about the way you stand up to him and stand by him that’s refreshing. There’s honesty there, too, and he’s learning that it’s what he needs.

He makes it to the elevator but then holds the door once he hears rapid footsteps. You mutter your thanks as you enter, and he feels the tension build as you’re together after the exchange earlier. He hasn’t gotten over that yet, so he’s unsure how to talk with you.

It seems like so are you, as you drum your fingers on the strap of your bag and focus on the door while you both wait to make it to the ground floor. Jungkook is tempted to offer you a ride with him but he decides against it. Even then, he slows his steps so he could walk alongside you, as you both head out the main doors.

“Get some rest, Mr. Jeon,” you finally say. “And have a good weekend.”

You look at him with sincerity in your eyes, your smile soft and assuring, something he’s never seen you direct at him before. It’s even different from earlier. There’s more understanding, he thinks. Perhaps there’s care.

“You, too, Ms. Cho,” he replies before entering the car. “Get home safely.”

You bow to him and wave at Mr. Ri before walking down the pathway to the street that leads towards the bus stop.

Jungkook lets himself be comfortable in the seat while he forces the image of your smile out of his head. The sun has set and it’s Seoul at its busiest on another hot Friday evening. There are more cars than usual and so movement is slow, but that’s how he sees you - walking down the sidewalk in the midst of all these people. And there you are, somehow looking at peace. There’s an air of isolation that surrounds you, but you don’t look lonely. Just… alone. There’s still that warmth in your eyes and your smile that he finds himself wanting to see more of.

This is when he realizes he might be in trouble. There’s a line he shouldn’t cross, but there’s this desire to get to know you, to know your thoughts and your feelings and your words. He reminds himself that he needs you, in a way that an authority figure needs support and assistance. He needs you to be focused and capable, and he needs to be the same.

With his attraction that he can’t get over, he knows that the only way to make sure that he keeps things professional is to keep his distance - not just physically, but more so emotionally. You’ll definitely be spending more time together and he needs to constantly remind himself of who you are and who he is. That much as he feels safe and honest with you, he can’t go any further; he can’t let you get any closer. He doesn’t know how he’ll do it, but that’s one other thing he’ll figure out.

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bluejutdae · 11 days

Text

“Oh, let there be hotel complaints” | Chan x you

warnings: nsfw, D/s dynamics, face and pussy slapping, overstimulation, mention of safewords, Daddy kink.

This is just Chan brain rot and my mind gently suggested me the image of first time inexperienced Dom Chan who wants to try some BDSM but he’s too scared to hurt you so he decides he’a going to try on himself all that he’s gonna do to you…

Title from Dinner & Diatribes by Hozier

Chan has had plenty of vanilla sex, but then you introduced him to BDSM, and especially the concepts of Doms and Subs, and something switched in him. He started reading online forums and blogs. And when the topic arose again, he clearly told you he’s interested, but he won’t do it yet. Because the thing is: despite how hard even just reading stuff about it makes him, he has no experience, and he won’t risk hurting you.

So, he does what any good Dom should do in his eyes, he tries things on himself.

One day you turn home to find his face red and a bit swollen, but when you ask about it, he just distracts you with filthy kisses. What you don’t know is that he slapped and slapped and slapped himself until he deemed he had found the right strength to use.

Another day he disappears for the whole afternoon and, when you see him in the living room, he looks flushed and a little exhausted, but giddy. Just like Changbin when he maxes out at the gym and he’s incredibly tired but proud of himself. What you don’t know is that he spent the afternoon edging himself with a vibrator on his shaft and his tip and, after hours of denying himself, he came and proceeded to overstimulate himself, because it’s only logical to pair up the two experiences, right?

What you noticed though, is that there’s a change in him. He’s more assertive with you on some days, makes sure you eat and doesn’t let you go to sleep if you haven’t removed your makeup. Pushes you to sleep more when he knows you have had a bad day at work, and every time you comply and thank him for taking care of you, he kisses a little filthier, holds you a little firmer.

It’s months later when he asks if you can try something kinkier. You’re excited and happy and you start to mentally prepare yourself to be a good teacher without forgetting this is about pleasure. But then Chan shows you exactly how deep the still water runs deep.

“You’re gonna sit there” he says and he’s so commanding yet sexy you melt instantly. “And we’re gonna have a quick talk. Nothing too extreme is going to happen today, but I need to establish some rules”. You nod in response, and he looks at you with his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. “You’re gonna use your pretty words, baby girl.” That’s it. Not a suggestion, not an option, a rule. Fuck, you knew he would be good at this.

“I understand.”

He’s quick with the rules: you must verbally answer, you’re gonna use the traffic light system for now, you must use the safe word if you need to, and the moment you think something’s wrong he’s gonna stop. You also must ask for what you want, not just take it.

Not too long later you’re on the bed, shirt previously discarded and clad only in your panties. And Chan is completely dressed, hovering over you. He’s been kissing you deeply and touching you just enough to make you want so much more. You’re embarrassingly wet and you’re sure you’ll have to throw away your panties. He’s holding your crossed arms at the wrists and, in doing so, he’s holding you down. You try to buck and raise your ass to relieve some of the dull aching you’re feeling in your core. “C’mon Channie, touch me.”

“But I am touching you…” he replies with a smirk on his lips. His free hand caresses your face, and he tests the gives of your lower lip with his thumb. When you suck on it, though, he takes it away and shakes his head. “What did I say?” You are lost, what happened? Did he say something?

“You’re just a cockhungry whore, uh? You can’t even wait for me to give you something, you’re so greedy you just want to take and take.”

Oh.

The realization in your face makes Chan smile. “There it is… tell me what you did wrong, and I might consider going easy on you.”

“I didn’t ask to suck your thumb-” he knows there’s something you want to add, he knows about your Daddy kink. And it turns him so fucking on, but he’s not gonna press about it. He considers your words and considers just letting it slide, but there’s flames licking at his insides.

“Too bad you didn’t ask, uh?”

Sudden, sharp pain irradiates on your left cheek and it’s less the pain and more the surprise that makes you gasp and, less than a second later, moan. Chan wants to apologize, years of conditioning making him feel guilty and mean and abusive, but he can’t deny what he feels.

He grabs your face, fingers splayed where he slapped mere seconds ago, wet thumb digging into the opposite cheek and kisses you messy and filthy, sucking your tongue in his mouth. Chan removes the last piece of clothing you have on and sits on his knees, with his thighs slightly spread apart. He holds your legs open with firm hands, one on your calf and the other clamped around your knee. He’s just… staring at your pussy. You try to squirm away and close your legs, but his eyes are suddenly on you. There’s a warning in his face that accompanies a displeased sound. “Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry” you blurt out trying to repair something before you do too much damage. You can feel wetness dripping down your folds, and Chan can too. “You’re so wet. Fuck, you love being on display for me…” He has never felt this. There’s a power rush, a shiver starting from his spine and moving towards opposite endings: towards his brain, making him lose words and making him want to act up, want to deliciously destroy you, making a mess of you and then put you back together; and on the other ending, traveling south towards his cock and balls. He’s been ready to cum the moment he sat you down and you agreed to do this.

“Love, are you just going to stare at me?” You ask when you grow too impatient to keep sitting still, a bit embarrassed too by his too focused staring. He shakes his head, and there is a quiet chuckle that can be heard in the room. His lips raise in a slow smirk, like he’s just been made aware of a secret, and you didn’t. And maybe he did.

Chan made plans for tonight. Plural. You told him you like not knowing everything in advance, so he planned different plans based on your responses to his actions. It was harder than organizing recording sessions. But since he saw your reactions earlier, he decides to stick to a precise plan. So, he acts in it.

Quickly and hard he delivers a slap on your inner thigh, the pain is a delicious sensation, hot and cold at the same time. A moment later the skin reddens to show Chan’s handprint and if possible, his cock gets ever harder. It twitches a little from where it’s hidden, head flushed and red, slowly but constantly leaking precum, forming a wet stain on his slacks .

“Fuck Chan!” You cry to his direction, eyes closed shut and brows knit in pleasure. You can feel heat where he hit you, and you want to press your fingers into it, wanting to feel the warmth and the pain and the pleasure. The moment you are ready to ask him for something, he delivers another slap in the same place. This time, though, Chan doesn’t let you breathe it out, doesn’t let you take your time to recover from it, no. He rakes his nails on your hot skin, watches as the skin quickly goes from red to white and to an even redder red where he scratched you. Digs his digits into your skin and revels in your gasps, feeling hot and ready to lose control, if a wind would blow in the room, he would cum in an instant. He’s ready for your next moan, your next gasp, but you’re quiet and your legs are trembling, and he’s scared he’s gone too far. He’s on the verge of apologizing, carrying you to the bathroom for a warm bath and cuddles and more apologies when he realizes he read you wrong. He didn’t give you too much, he gave you exactly what you needed, because -unbelievably so, for him- you’re coming. Clit untouched and your sopping hole twitching and throbbing around nothing, but you’re clearly coming. This is a different one, though. You’ve never been quiet while having an orgasm, but watching you with more attention calms him down, you look fine. He kisses you from your thigh to your cheekbone, stopping to nibble at your nipples, tongue lapping at your skin and sucking quick marks on you. “My pretty slut” a kiss on the nose, “you’re so greedy” a kiss on the right cheek, “your little pussy came untouched” a kiss on the forehead, “now I must give it some attention” a kiss on your chin. “Tell me your color?” He adds, tone sweeter and a hand caressing your face like you’re made of the finest glass.

“Green”. A smile appears on his face and he manhandles you to straddle his slacks covered thigh. Your wetness is seeping through the fabric, you squirm and he can see you’re embarrassed. “I told you I was gonna give it some attention. I want my baby girl to feel good.” He grabs you by your hips and forces you to move and grind your pussy on the fabric of his slacks. One of his hands sneaks into your hair and he pulls, stopping you from hiding into his neck. “No hiding. And stop hiding all your pretty sounds from me.”

The pleasure mixed with the overstimulation are overwhelming, and Chan’s new role is playing a big role in the moment and your arousal. His fingers are probably going to leave bruises in your skin, and you can’t wait to stand in front of a mirror to see them. Chan hands guide you back and forth and soon you’re clenching around nothing, “m’close Channie”, too desperate to control your movements.

“It’s okay, my baby. Just ask for it.” His hard cock is begging to be touched, still in the confines of his underwear and trousers. Yet, he has never been this hard and close to coming untouched. Your moans, the redness on your cheeks, the sweat matting your hair to your forehead and your incessant moans and cries of pleasure are making him lose his mind.

“Please Channie, can I cum?” You pant. “Let me cum, Daddy.” The last word is whispered, muffled into his shoulder but he hears it anyway. And he understands why you like it, the name giving him power, giving him a specific role, giving him the chance to give you exactly what you need.

“Then cum for Daddy.”

He watches you as cum, hands guiding your movements and his muscles flexing to give you as much pleasure as he can. He loves you like this, unabashed and free, vulnerable just for him.

But having you moaning and screaming his name is not enough. He doesn’t stop when you try to take a moment to collect yourself, he fixes his hold on your hips and forces your movements again. Back and forth, back and forth, again and again and it doesn’t matter how loud you whine, it doesn't matter your overstimulation, what matters now is making you cum another time. Anytime he pushes you towards him, he also pushes you down, setting an unforgiving pace that is torture on your sensitive clit. He’s relentless, but after just a few minutes you’re both rewarded with your legs clamping down on his thigh as you cum again. Unbelievably so, watching your second orgasm triggers his own orgasm and he moans your name loudly. He kisses you, messy and hungry, lips demanding and tongue insistent, claiming even your breath.

You’re gripping his shirt so hard, your fingers hurt. He delicately lays you down onto the bed and kisses you softly. As soon as his breathing comes back to normal, his worries come back too.

“Are you okay, baby? Did I hurt you? Was it too much? What do yo-“ you interrupt him with silly, quick kisses, trying to diminish his worries.

“I am more than okay.” A kiss. “I feel perfect.” A kiss. “You were perfect.” A kiss. “You’re always perfect, love.” A kiss. “I love you.” A kiss.

You kiss some more and he insists on showering together so he can take care of you and make sure you drink water and eat some fruit and chocolate. He tells you all about trying on himself what he did to you, and you’ve never loved him more.

#bluejutdae #stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfic #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #skz #bang chan x reader #bang chan x you #bang chan smut #chan smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #Thiana writes Chan

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azrielbrainrot · 3 months

Text

Such a Perfect Place To Start

Azriel x Healer!Reader

Description: Something happens that has you questioning the nature of your relationship with the shadowsinger.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 3911

Notes: When I started writing this I didn't think it was going to lead to that. Hope you like it!

part of the healer!reader universe

When you were called to the House of Wind so urgently by the High Lady herself you were expecting a more pressing matter, a life or death situation like you're used to, not exactly a library full of books. You don't know how long you've been sitting in this chair but you couldn't feel your butt anymore, no matter how many different positions you tried to sit in. You were used to doing some research while studying new healing techniques or herbs but these millenia old books on magical symbols were a little different.

There had been some attacks across the Night Court, including in the mountains surrounding Velaris, with some pretty disturbing details. After being killed, the victims' eyes had been removed and a symbol had been carved into their chests. All the symbols were different and, at this time, their meaning was still unknown. Unfortunately, none of the victims had survived either so there weren't any witnesses and, even after Azriel's thorough investigations, there was no evidence left behind by the culprits. It was as if no one had even been there.

You had heard some rumors about this before getting called in. Gossip spread around fast in Velaris and, even with the Inner Circle's efforts to keep panic to a minimum, people had found out about some of the details. The area around Velaris is relatively safe so to have multiple killings in a short time and in such gruesome ways was causing a bit of a fearful atmosphere to fall upon the city of dreamers. The increase in security wasn't easily missed either.

After being summoned to the River House, Feyre and Rhysand had briefed you on everything they knew and asked you for your help, seeing as they could only trust a few select people. Since there were no other clues left behind besides the symbols, the High Lord decided that, for now, everyone should focus on finding their meaning, so he sent his most trusted people to his private library to look through every book that might help.

You had obviously felt incredibly honored and happy that they trusted you this much. You've been getting closer to the inner circle after your talk with Azriel a few months ago, and sometimes still feared your friendships were a bit one sided.

As honored as you felt that they trusted you, though, you had spent days searching through old books just to come up empty. It was more tiring than a week at a war healing tent. Not to mention having to do so by Amren's side. You had no personal problems with the newly turned high fae but she still scared you profusely. Your power gave you a sense of people's aura and hers had always felt unsettling at best, even after getting turned.

At least, you weren't alone with her, everyone in the Inner Circle and some of the Valkyries had shown up at the library to help at some point. There was no way of knowing who could be behind these attacks and, from what you gathered, these fae had been moving across the court too easily, meaning they could be from the night court or even Velaris, so you couldn't involve the priestesses in the library.

The sky was already completely dark outside, making way for the millions of stars to shine in the sky. The atmosphere was a little too quiet for this time of night, usually there would still be fae walking around the city, in and out of bars and theaters. Amren had already left. The ancient one had tucked a book under her arm and walked out without much of a goodbye, leaving you with Feyre and Azriel in the library.

“I think it's time to stop for the day,” your High Lady's voice cut through the silence suddenly, “Rhys just finished at the office too.” Sometimes you envied how convenient the daematis abilities were. As her eyes glaze over and a smirk threatens to play at her lips, you know her mate is giving her a good reason to go home.

“I'll stay a bit longer,” you hold your finger over the passage you were reading, these old books had tiny fonts and you'd already lost yourself in enough of them to know better now, “I have to go to the clinic tomorrow so I wanted to at least finish this book.” There were only about half a dozen pages left of it so, even if your body was screaming at you to go to bed, you wanted to get this done first.

“Alright,” the High Lady adds her last book to the pile and looks at you one more time, “Don't stay too long. We need you to be focused at the clinic.” Her eyes shift to the shadowsinger and narrow slightly, her tone a little sterner, “You too, Az. Get some sleep.”

The spymaster nods dutifully at his friend's warning and she seems content enough with the response or in enough hurry to meet her mate, as she gives you both one last smile and turns to the door, saying one last goodbye over her shoulder.

Azriel stayed with you, even though his book had just started and there was no way he would finish it tonight. You were torn between thinking it was because he didn't trust you in the House by yourself, as the ever protective spymaster, and just writing it off as his willingness to help his court even at the risk of his own health and comfort, you don't even wanna think how many sleepless nights the spymaster has spent working lately.

You shake off your thoughts and keep reading the boring book. The sooner you finish the sooner you can go to sleep. Even your healing abilities can't do much to fight the headache you were feeling after spending the whole day reading symbols and their uses in dark magic, some of the rituals described were also making your stomach queasy.

Just as you're about to finish the last page, you hear a soft groan coming from Azriel and can't help but look up at him. His head was thrown back, showing off the column of his neck. His eyes were closed tight like he was fighting the same headache as you. With his wings stretched as far as they could go, it looked like they were taking up most of the private library, not that it was a small room by any means.

The spymaster looked exhausted. He's been spending his days meeting up with his spies and informants all around Prythian, trying to find any information on the attackers and investigating any strange movement in the court. At night, he comes home and joins you in the library to help with research, sometimes even staying up later than everyone else. You know he will do the same thing tomorrow and the day after, until you find any relevant clues and catch the killers.

Azriel takes these things more personally than maybe even the High Lord and Lady. His job as spymaster is finding any threats to the court after all, preferably before they happen. You know he must feel like he's failing his court and you wish you could show him that he's doing more than enough, that it's not his fault. Under the tough exterior and immense power, Azriel has an extremely kind soul, you've felt it. He'd make the impossible happen if it meant he could protect his court, his family, even if it cost him his own life.

“You should go to sleep,” you can't help but worry for him, “You were out all day before you came here. You must be really tired.”

You wonder how long it's been since he's had a good night of sleep. Even before this situation, it was no secret that the shadowsinger was a bit of an insomniac. You had given him a few sleeping tonics before in hopes of helping him have at least a few moments of peace.

“I'll wait for you,” he tells you, meeting your eyes. You can see the fatigue swirling around in his unguarded gaze, it seems you had been right to assume he hasn't been sleeping. “You're almost done.”

You look back down at your book and wonder how he's been keeping track of what you've been doing while reading his own book. Still, if finishing this means Azriel can go to sleep, you'll do it as fast as you can. Reading through the last page intently to make sure nothing escapes you.

Just as you're about to finish you make a silent request to the House, and two steaming cups of tea appear in front of each of you. Passionflower tea to lessen his stress and help with sleep, you've given it to him before and he told you it helped so you hope it does the trick once again.

Since you're focused on the book, you miss the way his eyes finally stray from your form to look down at the tea now sitting in front of him. You also miss the smile on his face when he reaches for it and the way his shadows let him know you were the one who asked for it, gushing about how you took care of their master.

“Do you still not trust me, Spymaster?” You close the book and put it into the ever growing pile. Stretching a bit before taking your tea into your hands and blowing on it gently.

“I trust you with my life, sweetheart.” The seriousness in his statement makes you pause with the cup halfway to your lips for a moment. You didn't need the Morrigan's gift to know he was telling the truth. The nickname takes a little longer to register but as soon as it does color rushes to your cheeks.

“Then why wait for me?” You hadn't actually thought he didn't trust you in the library but you still weren't sure why he had stayed behind after Feyre left.

“Wanted to keep you company until you finished,” he shrugged. His voice is a little gravely with sleep which is a big problem for the butterflies already fluttering in your stomach. “We've been spending a lot of time together but we've barely talked.”

He wants to talk to you. You can't help the smile or the giddy feeling washing over you. He's tired but he chose to stay up a little longer to do something as trivial as talking to you.

“What did you want to talk about then?” The way he's picking at the painted decorations in his teacup makes you think he might be feeling a little nervous but you're not sure why.

“Anything you want,” he answered a little too fast. Maybe it's the low lights in the room but you swear there's some color dusting his cheeks.

“It's hard to pick a topic like that,” you say before biting your lip slightly. For some reason you suddenly feel a little pressure to come up with a good topic, not wanting to disappoint or bore him. “Lately, all I can think about is this,” you run your finger over one of the books' spines, “It's hard to focus on anything else after spending hours in here.”

“If you feel like this is too much you can tell me. I'll talk to Rhys and he'll send you back to the clinic,” he frowns. His shadows reach a little towards you, as if wanting to comfort you. You didn't mean to worry him.

“That's not what I meant,” you start, “I want to help. I've just never dealt with anything like this. I've been to war but this… killing innocent fae in such a disturbing way is different.”

“I understand,” he nods, “If you need anything you can tell me. Even if you just want to talk.”

“Alright.” Azriel has a way of talking that leaves you not knowing how to respond sometimes. He's so sincere in what he says that you almost feel like any response would fall short. “You too. If you need help with anything I'm always here for you.”

He gives you a single nod before hiding what looked like a bashful smile behind his tea. You finish your teas like this, enjoying each other's company in the quiet of the night.

You can't hold back a yawn when you set your teacup down. As much as you'd love to stay up talking to Azriel all night, your body is about ready to crash on you.

“We should go to sleep,” he says as he stands up, making the teacups disappear. “You have to be at the clinic early.”

“You're right,” you agree with a sigh, standing up to follow him to the door. You've only been going to the clinic twice a week ever since Feyre asked for your help with this case so you know you'll have a long day ahead of you. “Will you fly me down tomorrow?”

“Of course,” he tells you as he opens the door for you, “What kind of male would I be if I let our favorite healer walk down the thousands of steps by herself?”

“Favorite? I'll tell Madja you said that,” you point your finger at him playfully.

“Second favorite then,” he takes it back with a wink, making you laugh. The smile lingers on your face all the way to the guest room you're staying in and it only deepens when you realize he walked you all the way to your door.

You turn and look up at him expectantly. It looks like he wants to tell you something with the way he's searching your face and his shadows pool at both of your feet. If you didn't know any better you'd think they wanted to crawl up your legs. You've found that they can give some of Azriel's emotions away sometimes, when he doesn't have a grip on them at least.

Your body doesn't react when he bends down slowly, pausing for a brief moment before kissing your cheek softly, murmuring a good night against your skin. It doesn't react after either, when he pulls back to watch your reaction. In fact, it's not until he walks over to his door and lets out a small chuckle, that you finally move and almost crash into the room, fumbling with the doorknob and slamming the door behind you.

As you lean your back against the door, you put your hand over your chest and stare wide eyed at the window across the room. You almost thought you were imagining things. He can probably hear your heart beating all the way in his room across the hall, you wouldn't be surprised if everyone in Velaris could hear with how loud it's beating. You let yourself slide against the door until you're crouching.

You hadn't expected him to kiss you. You know Azriel isn't one for a lot of physical touch. You've only gotten a hug out of him once, during the war after an attack on the healer's tent. He had thought you were dead then, after watching so many die he'd just been glad to see someone he knows still breathing. Actually, you might have been the one to hug him first. You had never been so close to death and were scared out of your mind. It was your first war after all.

You and Azriel had been getting closer over the months, closer than you were with the rest of Inner Circle. Even before your talk that night, he's always been friendly to you, but the shadowsinger was kind to all the healers - to everyone that wasn't his enemy really - so you never thought much of it. But this felt different. Tonight felt different.

You hadn't fully admitted it to yourself yet but the more time you spent with the shadowsinger the more your crush evolved. What had once been a silly crush based on appearance and his kind nature had quickly turned into palpable feelings. You liked him. A lot.

However, acknowledging this could destroy the friendship you had built with him for the past few months, maybe with the rest of his family as well. That's what you thought before at least. You assumed Azriel would never have feelings for you. The idea seemed so preposterous it never even crossed your mind, but now you're not so sure.

Maybe it seemed like you were exaggerating to think this after a little kiss, on the cheek no less, but this kiss made you think back on the last months you've spent with Azriel. He's been insisting on flying you up and down the stairs every time he's around, usually this task would be left to Cassian, who loved showing off his wings to you.

He's been going to the clinic more often too, stocking up on anything he can think of when he's never done that in the century you've been working in Velaris. Azriel was always one to not think much of his own health, it bothered you to no end. He also came to you with every injury. Usually when a member of the Inner Circle was hurt, Madja was the one who was called. You'd only accompany her if she needed assistance or go in her place if she wasn't able to go herself. Of course over the years they'd come to use you more and more, which is why you didn't even think of it, but looking back now… You don't know what to think anymore.

Getting up with a sigh, you make your way to your closet to change. Your thoughts consume you while you get ready for bed but your tiring day catches up to you as soon as your head hits the pillow. However, this doesn't spare you from dreaming of a certain shadowsinger.

You take longer to wake up than usual, making you hurry through your morning routine. Your body isn't used to the schedule you've been putting it through lately, and it's starting to show. But because of this, it isn't until you go to open the door to the guest room that you remember Azriel is going to fly you down to the clinic. And the incident that had you spiraling before going to sleep.

Deciding walking down the steps by yourself isn't a viable option, you go to find him and pray to the Mother things aren't too awkward between you. It had just been a little kiss on the cheek and your lack of reaction could totally be blamed on the long day, your brain was just having trouble catching up, that's all. It had been a completely normal exchange between friends, not that you're blushing just thinking about it or anything. You could just pretend it didn't happen.

As you make your way to the front door, the shadows dancing around in the hallway catch your eye instantly. You've seen them do this before, when Azriel doesn't need them and they don't want to brave the light, they just linger around the room in curious little wisps. You can't help the smile as they gravitate slowly towards you.

Right after they notice you, their master appears through the door. One of them must have warned him of your arrival, they're so cute sometimes you forget they're spies. Of course they'd tell on you.

“Good morning,” he greets. Azriel may be a shadowsinger but he looks breathtaking in the morning light. His skin glows beautifully and his eyes look a little lighter, it makes him look younger. Gods, how can he be so beautiful?

He looks a little relieved to see you. Maybe he thought you'd escape by yourself or ask someone else to fly you to the clinic to avoid him. It makes you feel a little bad that you had him worried but it's his own fault for playing with your heart like that.

“Good morning,” you smile, walking up to him. “Are you ready?”

“I was just waiting for you,” he says as he extends a hand for you to take. This has the nerves already lingering inside your body make themselves more noticeable. You almost forgot flying you down means he'll have to carry you. It had taken a while for you to get used to not only the flying but also the way he had to hold you - funny how you never had this problem with Cassian.

You take his hand and try not to move too much or gasp as he picks you up off the floor like you weigh nothing. He immediately starts walking to the edge of the stairs, holding you close to his chest.

“Hold onto me,” he breathes into your ear, extending his wings and getting ready to take flight. You do as he says and wrap your arms tighter around his neck, praying he can't feel your heart beat inside your chest.

You'll never get over how stunning Velaris looks from above or how the wind passes around you as you soar through the clouds. It's a real shame that you weren't born with wings. You understand why Illyrians are so protective of them, after knowing what this feels like, it's hard to imagine never being able to do it again.

“You know I won't drop you.” You look away from the landscape and meet his gaze. He can probably feel how tense you are but you can't tell him it has nothing to do with the height or any fear of him letting you fall.

“I know,” you assure. “What would you do without your favorite healer?” He lets out a small laugh in response and your body finally relaxes.

The flight doesn't take long, and, before you know it, he's landing right outside your clinic. He helps you get down and even holds onto you a little longer, giving you a once over to make sure you're steady on your feet.

An idea passes through your mind and you bite your lip, wondering if you'd truly lost it. You take a quick look around before you lose your nerve. It was still early enough that the streets were almost deserted, no one should see you.

Turning back to the shadowsinger, you hesitate again when you notice him watching you, probably wondering what you were up to. If you read the situation wrong this could make things very awkward for the two of you.

Deciding not to let your anxiety reign your life, you grab his shoulder gently so you can pull him a little closer to your height. Standing on your tiptoes to clear the rest of your height difference. You hold onto his cheek and place a soft kiss on the other side of his face, murmuring a “thank you”.

You step back again and look up at him, still slightly bent from where you pulled him to you and looking at your face with wide eyes. You're not sure if you've ever seen the feared spymaster so caught off guard before. There was a small smile playing at his lips though, so you assume you hadn't completely misread the situation. You can't help but form a grin of your own and turn around to go inside the clinic, leaving him behind just as he did to you last night. Your heart soaring higher than you had just been.

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel fluff #azriel fic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #acotar #divider by saradika #healer!reader

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