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saintobio · 28 days

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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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laundrybiscuits · 1 year

Text

The officer leans close, jabbing a finger into Steve’s chest. “You’re damn lucky it ain’t ten years ago or one state over,” he growls. “You could be looking at a felony charge, serving 15 to life. We didn’t stand for this kind of thing in Hawkins when I joined the force.”

Steve just folds his arms and gives the officer a bored look. “Okay,” he says. “Good talk. Can I see my boyfriend now?”

The officer sneers, but he steps aside to let Steve through. They’ve got Eddie cuffed to the hospital bed with another gun-toting guard in the corner.

“Jesus christ,” snaps Steve. “He’s not gonna escape, he can’t even walk right now. Why don’t you clear out and give us a little privacy, huh?”

“Sorry,” says the guard, not sounding all that sorry. “It’s for his own protection.”

Fuck. He’s gonna have to hope Eddie can follow his lead. All that practice pretending to be a wizard or whatever has to be good for something, right?

He perches on the side of Eddie’s bed and takes his hand. He can do this. “Hey, gorgeous. How’re you feeling?”

“Uh,” says Eddie, eyebrows doing something hilarious. “Steve?”

“It’s okay,” says Steve. He rubs his thumb over Eddie’s knuckles. This is the most they’ve ever touched, he thinks—the most that was just skin, no layers of denim or leather in between. Not even a layer of blood and dirt.

He swallows and keeps going, willing Eddie to develop freaky mind-reading powers all of a sudden. “I know you didn’t want to tell anyone about us, but I had to, baby. I’m sorry. I had to tell them you were, y’know, with me when…when Jason killed Chrissy.”

“You didn’t have to tell them about us,” says Eddie slowly. He’s giving Steve kind of an intense look. “Honey-pie. I’m sure there’s gotta be another way. One without as many consequences for you that you might not have thought all the way through.”

“There really isn’t,” Steve says. Thank god Eddie’s so quick on the uptake. Sure, he’s being a stubborn dick about it, but at least it doesn’t seem like he’s going to let anything slip.

“Fucking hell,” sighs Eddie. “Don’t suppose we can put that pesky little cat back in the bag. Okay. Darling angel, light of my life, corndog of my soul, who else knows?”

Corndog of my soul, Steve mouths to himself. “Just the cops. And Robin and Nancy, obviously. And—oh, remember Hopper?”

“Do I remember Hopper, he asks. Oh, pudding-pop. The late Chief Hopper and I spent so, so much quality time together over the years; he was practically a father figure to me. And just as with my actual dear old dad, his departure was cause for great rejoicing in Casa Munson.”

“Sorry to break the bad news, then. Hop’s alive, and he—uh, he knows everything.” Steve tries to communicate the scope of everything by kind of tilting his head back and forth. “He’s been…helping.”

“Huh. No shit,” says Eddie. Steve can’t tell whether or not he’s getting it. To be fair, there’s a lot to get. “Okay, gallant knight errant of mine, any news on whether or not I’m getting sprung from this charmingly appointed dungeon?”

“We’re…Hopper’s working on it. That’s why I’m. Y’know. Here. To tell you that they know about us.”

“Cool, right, understood.” Eddie closes his eyes, leaning back on his pillow. It’s so strange to see him in nothing but a hospital gown against white sheets. He looks like a wrung-out dishtowel.

There’s a commotion from outside, raised voices saying something like you let him what and haven’t even interrogated the Munson kid yet and not a legal status you fuckin—

“Time’s up, sweetheart,” says Eddie, mouth quirking up into the ghost of a smile. “Anything else you wanna say before they decide to upgrade my security?”

“Uh,” says Steve. He’d mostly been focusing on getting the basics of Eddie’s alibi across in a convincing way, and he can’t remember if there were any other details Eddie should know.

He hears the door slam open behind him, and panics. “Love you, bye,” he says, and ducks in to brush a quick kiss across Eddie’s chapped lips. The last thing he sees as he’s hauled bodily out of the room by a pissed-off detective is Eddie with his eyes gone enormous and shocked, lifting his uncuffed hand to his mouth, looking and looking at Steve like something is always going to be different from now on, forever.

(ETA: small continuation here!)

#dashed off 90% of this a little while ago based on a post that I now cannot find; I’ve been traveling and finished it up on a train this AM #but yes this is literally the same general premise as bonitabreezy's I Like to See You in the Morning Light #pls go read that instead #I know I’ve lied about this before but I’m really not planning to continue this at all! it is just a silly little thing!#also IANAL but afaik IN decrim’d sodomy in ‘76; 15 to life was the max sentence in MI for first-time & repeat offenders respectively iirc #steddie

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auspicioustidings · 6 months

Text

Savage

Summary: Request for some Scottish warrior Soap taking an English maiden as a prize.

Words: 3.7k

CWs: Violent non-con (I am so serious, do not ready this if it's not your thing), hardcore smut

–

Authors Note: This is very much a rape fantasy. Traditionally rape fantasies have historical grounding in minorities who felt ashamed of their own desires so had to fantasise a situation in which they were blameless for engaging in a stigmatised action because it was forced. It’s sort of where a lot of the noncon trope in bodice rippers comes from because women in unhappy marriages need a fantasy in which they can get rid of the shame for wanting passionate or rough sex because they imagine they fought against it. A lot more people have rape fantasies than people generally realise and truly a miniscule barely there number of them would ever think it was ok to actually assault someone. All that to say, this is not me condoning anything in real life. If you find fantasies like this don’t do it for you, then do not read it, but don’t then shame people who do. There is psychology behind why people fantasise about these things, it’s pretty normal and you don’t need to be worried that it is some moral failing. Mind your business.

It was a miraculously good match for you, a high ranking soldier of the King’s army. You were technically of noble blood, but just barely. You lived simply, not in a large house but in a small village where you held no sway over anyone else and were treated as common. But the village was close to the border between England and Scotland and every day it became more tense as whispers of raids from villages to the West skittered between houses like rats.

You didn’t know how your uncle had made arrangements for this beneficial marriage for you, but it would get you moving South in a few days time to marry and then you would finally be able to relax with this war much further away from you. You had heard horror stories of what happened to young maidens when savages came pillaging. They said that they didn’t wear anything under those kilts, they said it was to make it easy to bury their cocks in any hot hole they could find. They said they didn’t have any tame qualities, not like the English. Scottish men were feral, the comparison to dogs not holding water because at least dogs could be trained.

When you retreated to bed you got on your knees to say your prayers. As always you had to beg forgiveness for the licentious thoughts that sent thrills straight to your cunt whenever you thought about the images all those rumours put in your head.

–

The noise of chaos woke you in a panic, heart hammering against your ribcage as the smell of smoke drifted on the air and war cries sounded. You recognised your own kinfolk of course, the battalion of soldiers stationed here to keep eyes on the border. But it was the cries of those animals from the country to the North that sent you scrambling out of bed in only your chemise, knowing you had to run and hide before they could see you.

You slipped out of the bedroom, a frightened little rabbit looking for a burrow to hop into. The smell of smoke was stronger in the main room and you could see the orange glow of flames through the window. Going outside would be a risk, but hiding in here may get you burned to a crisp should this building be lit up. You did not have time to make the decision as the door burst off of its hinges, a muscular man in a blood spattered kilt with a warrior's mohawk and wild eyes panting like a dog as he caught sight of you.

You were frozen, unable to even breathe. And then after a beat his mouth stretched into a horrid manic grin as he bounded towards you. That finally shifted you from freeze to flight as you scrambled back through to the bedroom, trying to get to the small window. You threw the top half of your body through the gap but his rough hands grabbed your naked ankles and yanked you back, hard. You felt the chemise catch on the window frame, the fabric bunching up to completely expose you to him before he let go of your ankles letting you crash to the ground.

Your knees throbbed from the hard floor and by the time you were trying to crawl away he had his hand in your hair, brutally pulling your head up and craning it to look at him leaning over and getting into your face.

“Hear I have a wee noble bitch on my hands.”

Of course he would know. There were families here who would tell them anything to save themselves and pointing them in the direction of a noble maiden, one who was betrothed to an English soldier at that, would certainly be information that could spare them. The shouts outside sounded more heavily weighted towards those in his own gruff and growling accent now. The English soldiers were losing.

“I-I don’t know what you are talking about ser” you cried gently, not knowing how else to save yourself.

“Bonnie words” he growled, pulling so sharply at your hair that you thought your scalp might be bleeding and using his other hand to grope meanly at one of your breasts through the rough fabric of your nightwear.

You cried out, feeling the tears immediately spill over and stream down your face. He was so strong, you could barely budge against his hold, and he reeked of blood and fire and sweat and hot arousal. You squeezed your eyes shut and he only growled at you.

“Ye’ll keep those eyes open, yer going tae watch yer wee English cunt take me like a whore or I’ll take yer tight arse instead.”

You choked on a sob and opened your eyes, seeing that his were full of sick glee and heat. The hand groping at your tits moved under the chemise to cup roughly at your sex and he pulled you to your feet by that hand. You screamed at how it felt as he abused you with his hand, grinding the heel against you. You felt a hot flood of bitter shame as he swiped a finger violently through your folds. What he found there made him pause for a moment, his face lighting up in unrestrained glee.

“Fucking English slut. Y’er dripping.”

You had heard women who said it would be better to be wet if they were to be taken against their will. You did not agree. Him knowing that your traitorous body found his rough abuse of it arousing was so humiliating you felt you would rather die. He was so oppressive in his demeanour, so big and aggressive above you that you imagined he may break your bed with what he was about to do to you. How foolish of you to think he would have that level of mercy.

“Going tae show all those bastards how their women take Scottish cock” he laughed, spearing two fingers inside you to their full length with no softness at all and pulling you by them.

You could not breathe. You had never had anything inside you and those two fat fingers felt like they were stretching you so much you would tear. He walked backwards so he could keep them firmly inside you and you stumbled pathetically after him, needing to keep as close to him as possible to stop the painful press against your walls that came from him pulling if you did not move.

The shame was overwhelming as you emerged, full of his fingers and stumbling after him with tears streaming down your face, to find that your country's soldiers had been defeated with the survivors on their knees, hands bound. You were being paraded in front of them you realised, they had been put right here in the town square so they could bear witness, the Scottish soldiers standing behind them feral and full of lust as they took in their leader pulling you in front of them by the cunt.

When he ripped his fingers out of you, your knees buckled and a high whine left you. You had went from feeling too full to feeling far, far too empty. You could barely hear anything but the blood rushing through you as your heart hammered. That and him as he taunted the soldiers on their knees.

“Our women would ne’er let ye touch them, they’d die first. Yer clean wee English princess on the ither hand?” he said, planting a booted foot to your chest and pushing until he had you pinned on your back underfoot, “she’s gagging fir it. Foaming at the gusset tae take strong Scottish cock, put a real warrior in her belly.”

His own men cheered at that and you watched on with horror as he cocked his head at one of them and he began to approach you.

“Naw a monster though am I my wee slut? Ye’d be wet enough fir one of their small English cocks nae doubt, but fir mine? Going tae need something to help me sink in good and deep.”

The other soldier went to his knees between your legs and you watched as he pulled his throbbing cock from under his kilt, jerking it violently. You tried to move away, his cock so close you could feel the heat of it between your legs, but the boot on your chest held you still. When you tried to close your legs the man touching himself used his other hand to wrench one of your knees until it was touching the ground, using his own knees between your thighs to help him keep your glistening cunt fully on display.

When the head of his cock stroked through your folks, slicking you with his pre-cum and bumping at your clit, you were so overwhelmed that you didn’t quite manage to bite back your moan. They laughed meanly at you as the man found his release, spurting hot cum all over your pussy, smacking his cock against your stomach when he was done to shake off the last drops.

It was filthy, you felt sticky and like you were on fire. The next soldier took his place and spat right on your already disgusting cunt as he began to stroke himself. By the time he had painted you with his seed and the third was started, the man above pressed his foot harder to get your attention and all you could do was stare up into his taunting eyes, trying to focus on him so you could not think of what was going on between your legs. You cried up at him, trying to find any level of sympathy in him.

“Keep crying and I’ll gie ye something tae cry about princess.”

Oh you hated him calling you that when you were pinned down in the dirt, defeated soldiers of your country watching as their enemies smeared their cum all over your exposed body. Watching as they made a sloppy mess out of you in preparation for their leader to shove his cock deep inside and pump you full of his savage children.

You did not know how long you stared up at him, not able to look away as you felt the heat of his men on your body, your own body getting hotter and hotter with each slide of velvety throbbing skin against your own. He had started to talk to you, his eyes not budging. It wasn’t the defeated soldiers he was taunting, it was you, ruined and disgraced under his boot.

“See how good I am tae ye little whore? Letting my men make ye flush wi pleasure. Don’t deny it, think I cannae see yer face whenever ye feel a cock on that wee untouched pussy? Like a fucking bitch in heat. I’ll fuck ye like one. Get ye on yer hands and knees so ye can look yer precious King’s soldiers in the eye when ye fall apart on my cock. When ye’r fucking begging for my cum. Wilnae even have tae dae any work, ye’ll be fucking yourself back on me ye needy slut.”

You shook your head in horror at his claims, the true fear being that he would make them true. Already you felt in a daze, felt empty and desperate. But you felt fear as well as he put his arm under his kilt, rucking the fabric up to grab at his cock. It was huge and you found yourself panicked and squirming as the last of his soldiers grunted and slapped the meat of your thigh to get you to stay still. You were rambling incoherently as the man above stroked slowly at himself, causing that thick weapon between his legs to throb and seem even bigger.

“It won’t fit, it’s not going to fit, please I’ll die, you’ll split me open. It’s so big no no I can’t, I can’t!”

You didn’t even feel the last of his soldier’s loads splatter onto you, didn’t notice when his hands left your flesh. You would have rapidly purpling skin in the shape of fingerprints all over your thighs from how you had been held still by all of them, but you could not feel the dull pain of it through your fear of what was to come.

“Ye’ll take whit I gie ye and ye’ll fucking thank me princess.”

He removed his foot and it was only then you realised that he had been pressing down hard enough that your breaths had been shallow. The rush of oxygen from being able to fully expand your lungs again made you horribly dizzy, but it also flooded right down to your clit and made your body jerk violently with the sensation.

He didn’t take his hand from his cock and he bent so he could use the other to grab your ruined hair again, yanking your head up and shoving himself into your mouth. You choked, legs scrambling to get underneath you to give you some stability with which to batter your fists against his thighs, trying to pull away. He laughed meanly at your attempts, moving the hand that was touching himself to join the one tangled in your hair on the back of your head and pulling your head at the same time as he thrust forward, settling himself fully in your throat.

You were gagging around him, tears really streaming down your face now as you begged him with your eyes to let you breathe. He held you there, his own eyes glittering with satisfaction, until your muscles started to give in and you felt your eyes dropping closed as your brain became cottony. Then all at once he pulled you off and you were gulping in oxygen around your coughing and sputtering, the rush much more intense this time.

He held your head tilted up at him so he could watch your face as he shoved his boot between your legs and got you over the edge. Oh weren’t you a delicious little thing for him, getting off so hard on how he used you, moaning shakily and wantonly in the dirt beneath him in front of his triumphant soldiers and your defeated ones.

“Good fucking girl” he growled with a feral grin, letting you ride it out with little aborted thrusts on his boot, unable to control your body.

You looked gone, eyes glazed and body slack. Couldn’t have that, he needed you screaming for him. He needed your blood fighting between being frozen with terror and boiling with need. And he needed you full of him, needed to be able to feel his own cock through your stomach so fucking clearly that he could jerk it.

You were thrown forward, top half of your body collapsing pathetically into the dirt right where it was covered in the sweat and cum of his soldiers. He manhandled your hips up, leaving your face crushed into the dirt and your ass up high for him, cunt presented. You felt his hot breath at your ear and it was a sudden shock when you realised he was growling lowly into your ear, his words for you and you only.

“S’going tae hurt, yer going tae scream yerself hoarse for me and then I’ll get ye tae milk me when I rip pleasure out of all that pain. Will treat ye right after little princess, like one of my good Scottish lassies, but right now ye’r my fucking English whore.”

The confusing mix of sentiments cleared some of the fuzziness from your mind but you had no time to dwell. He was right, it did hurt and you did scream yourself hoarse. He had lined himself up and plunged into you, cock coated and slick from the cum of his soldiers but no less huge inside your tight virgin pussy. He had split you in two, you were sure of it. His cock must have broken through you, was sitting in your ribcage and punching all the air from your lungs.

You blacked out for a moment, coming right back to when he pulled out to fuck brutally back into you again, slapping your ass so hard that you felt the sting all the way up to your fingertips and making you choke on the sob that fought through the screaming. He ripped at your hair, making you look at the defeated soldiers on their knees. Making you watch their own cocks swell at your treatment. Your utter ruination was making them hard. Your head being wrenched back meant you had to go to your hands as he pounded you, and you saw how they looked as one of your breasts was fucked right out of the chemise, bouncing lewdly for them to see with every hard thrust.

The humiliation had you digging into the dirt like you had claws, feeling the bite of the earth pushing under your nails. It sparked something in your brain, almost like you could see them sharpen. Like you could feel your shoulder blades become more pronounced, become something sinewy and sleek and animal. He was fucking you like a predator and you were drooling and howling and panting like his prey, back bowed as he pulled your hair harder and had to staring at the sky babbling prayers into the night air.

“S’too much, can’t, I can’t. Full, too full.”

“Ye fucking can. Yer tight fucking cunts trying tae strangle me, wants my cum so bad naw? Perfect English pussy, so slutty and needy for a real cock” he growled, hand letting go of your hair and smacking your ass right over where he had before, causing you to howl at the pain.

The pain and something else, something that had no place here and yet had been lingering from the moment he had caught you. Something that had been getting closer and brighter and more insistent with every abuse you were subject to. Something that he invited in when your arms collapsed beneath you without him holding your heads weight anymore and he ground your face into the ground before bringing his hand to your clit and pinching.

Your scream was raw and hoarse, throat well past being able to produce a clear sound. The orgasm was blinding and every bone felt like it had liquified. You saw white and then you saw hardly anything, only vague shapes and colours. The only thing now was how his cock filled you. The shame was gone, replaced with the truth that you loved this. You loved how he used you like this, how he violated you in front of these soldiers just because he could.

“That’s it princess, fucking take it” he hissed, stopping his thrusts and letting you do all the work.

You didn’t even realise now how you wildly fucked yourself back on his cock trying to chase the pain of overstimulation, addicted to the way it made you feel some sick hazy pleasure. You were drooling onto the dirt, tasting the earth mixed with cum and finding the disgust of it only felt right now. When his hand came to your stomach and pushed to feel himself bulging there you came again, harder, babbling thank yous to him.

He bit out a string of curses above you as your pussy squeezed so hard it was forcing him out, but he was strong as he forced himself balls deep and held there, finding his release as you milked everything out of him and into your womb. The liquid heat of it was the last thing you felt as you passed out, blissed and fucked out of your mind.

–

John MacTavish allowed himself a moment to lean his body against your back, inhaling the scent of sweat and dirt and cum and fear and lust from your limp body. So good for him, took it perfectly. He hissed when he finally pulled out, resisting the temptation to just keep going beyond what would feel good because fuck, being inside you had been a religious experience.

He was nothing if not a man of his word though, and he scooped your body gently into his arms to get you onto a horse and ready for him to take over the border where he could give you that princess treatment he had promised. The surviving soldiers they would leave beaten and bloodied but not dead. After all, someone had to tell your betrothed all the details.

“Fucking MacTavish” he hissed after excusing the man who had given the report.

He had made him give it in full detail, told him to leave nothing out.

“Kept her alive by the sounds of it, maybe looking to get a bastard out of her” Garrick mused.

“Knowing him he’ll keep her near the border to taunt us instead of moving her further up North” Price added.

Simon Riley would not be letting his betrothed get away with allowing MacTavish of all people to take the maidenhood that rightfully belonged to him. She needed a proper punishing fuck from an English man to learn better.

“Doesn’t matter where he keeps her. I’m going to take her, and she’s going to learn what happens to sluts who spread their legs for those Scottish bastards”.

#mhairiwrites #fanfic #cod au #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #cw: noncon #rest assured this isn't likely to become the kind of thing I write because it is well out of my wheelhouse #I've got a half chapter of Firewatch written and will finish that off #But I'm looking to do a little more of the Teashop AU after and that is going to stay fluffy and wholesome as hell #darkfic #dark content

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bruisedboys · 5 months

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reader and peeta showering together after a hard day (just some innocent intimacy nothing suggestive) 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻 love this man sm 😭🤞🏻🤞🏻

!!!!!! thank you for the req angel <3 this inspired me so so much! thanks for kickstarting my writing for peeta era hehe

peeta mellark x fem!reader 16+ please for non-sexual nudity. not really in universe but can read as post mockingjay if you want it to!

Peeta’s sketching on the bed when you come inside. One knee propped up with his back against the wall behind the bed, his sketchbook pressed against his thigh. His golden hair falls over his forehead, messy where he’s been too distracted by his drawing to push it back.

He looks up when you enter, smiling a bruising smile you don’t feel deserving of.

“Hey. Hey, sweetheart.” It’s alarming how quickly he sets aside his book and pencil to reach for you, as if he hadn’t been immersed in his sketching mere seconds ago. “C’mere, I missed you.”

As much as you’d like to be wrapped in his strong arms right now, you’re filthy, and he’s just changed the sheets earlier today.

“I can’t. I’m all dirty, see?” You wiggle your dirt-covered hands at him. You’ve been in the garden all afternoon. Time drifted away from you as you planted a new batch of tomato seeds. By the time you were done, the sun was setting and you hadn’t even realised. Your knees are stained dark brown and you’ve got dirt up to your elbows. “I’ll shower first, then we can cuddle. Sorry, baby.”

Peeta looks decidedly put out. You turn away from him before he can convince you any further, because you know if he looks at you like that for much longer you’ll give in. You pull fresh clothes from your side of the dresser and then move down the hallway to the bathroom.

The showers warming up and you’re starting to undress when Peeta knocks on the door. It’s unlocked, and he doesn’t have to, but he knocks anyway.

“It’s me,” he says. Who else would it be? You think. Silly man. “Can I come in?”

You pull the door open for him instead of answering. You’re halfway out of your clothes but it doesn’t phase him. Sure, he looks, but not for long, and not in a way that would suggest anything other than affection.

“Hey,” he says. He pushes the door closed behind him. The shower runs in the background, a peaceful thrum. “Do you mind if I join you? You can say no.”

You huff a soft laugh. He should know by now that saying no to him is a near impossible feat. “Yeah, of course. I don’t mind.”

You finish undressing quickly, eager to be clean and warm. Peeta leaves to get fresh towels while you hop in under the hot spray. The majority of the dirt on your skin has been rinsed by the time he gets back. You hear him moving around the bathroom for a minute or so before he pulls the shower curtain aside. You let him in, moving aside to make space for him. It’s tight, but it’s not uncomfortable. Weirdly, it’s almost a perfect fit for the two of you.

Peeta moves under the shower head and the water quickly drenches one half of his hair and one of his shoulders. His big hand slides over your hip and he carefully moves you into a position where you’ve both got equal spray.

“Hi,” he says, smiling. He’s so close you could count his freckles, each light brown spot scattered across his collarbones.

“Hello,” you say back. His thumb rubs your hipbone, up down, up down. “Is it too warm?”

“No, it’s perfect.”

You smile and touch your palm to his cheek. “You okay?” You’re not asking because he seems out of sorts. You’re asking because you want to know, and if he’s not he’ll tell you. He does the same for you. It’s just how you love each other.

Peeta nods. “Yeah, I’m okay. How did your gardening go?”

You beam. You love that he cares about what you care about. “Good. We’ll have tomatoes growing out of our ears by summer, I think.”

Peeta laughs. It’s a brilliant sound that bounces off the shower walls and warms your chest. “Awesome,” he grins. Then, “Hey, you’ve got dirt under your ear.” He reaches behind you to grab the flannel hanging on the shower caddy. “Look that way for me?”

He holds you still with a hand at your jaw and rubs the dirt from your skin so gently you barely feel it. His touch is like a magnet — you’re drawn to it over and over again, no matter how generously he gives it to you. When he asks if he can wash your hair, you’d be crazy if you said no.

“Yeah, please,” you tell him, past caring how desperate and needing of his touch and love you are. He knows, anyway.

Peeta turns you by the hips so your back is to him, then gently tilts your head backwards. You hand him your shampoo and he squeezes a dollop onto his hands, rubbing his palms together before spreading the bubbles over the top of your head. He’s very, very gentle with it, much more than you’ve ever been, massaging the soapy, sweet-smelling bubbles into your hair, fingers rubbing circles onto your scalp. His dedicated touch, along with the gentle thrum and warmth of the shower spray, is enough to almost put you to sleep.

“Okay, you can rise now,” Peeta speaks up. His tone is soft and you suspect he’s noticed your sleepiness. He gets very soft with you when you’re tired. “Shut your eyes, please.”

You do as he says and he directs you under the spray. He holds a hand over your forehead like a barrier so the bubbles can’t escape and sneak into your closed eyes. The action in itself makes your chest ache. He cares more than you could ever comprehend.

When he’s done rinsing you finish scrubbing the dirt from your knees, your elbows. Peeta washes his own hair, and you help him rinse the same way he did for you.

“Thank you, angel,” he says. Warm water and soapy bubbles stream over his shoulders, his neck. His eyelashes are wet, clinging to each other in sparkly triangles. He dips down and kisses your shoulder, then your cheek. “Love you.”

You beam. You love him more than anything. You get on your toes to kiss him properly, a warm press of your mouth on his, a promise for more of the same later, when you’re clean and dry and fed. “Love you too, Peeta.”

thank you for reading! please consider reblogging if u enjoyed 🤍

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lowkeyremi · 3 months

Text

jjk men and aftercare pt 2 ft. Yuji, Megumi, Sukuna, Yuta, and Toge.

a/n: part 2 babyyy hope u guys enjoy, everyone (except sukuna + megumi) are more on the softer side in this i think (here's part 1)

cw: slightly suggestive, how they are after sex basically :) (all characters are aged up!!)

Yuji Itadori

He's kind of clueless at first. No doubt he's heard about it because he was nervous about his first time and called up his long time best friend Megumi to ask about.

Of course he told him to look it up himself, which he did but he wasn't patient enough to read through it thoroughly, so he scanned through the article to get the basic idea.

"Ummm, do you want snacks? Water... uhhhhh... um.." he struggles to remember what he'd read.

"Some water would be nice to start out." To start out? What does he have to do next?

Instead of stressing though, he hops up off the bed (naked), "Okay! I'll go get you some water!!" He's quick to leave the room and retrieve a nice, cold bottle of water.

As he's about to hand it to you he snatches it back and cracks it open, "Don't want you to strain anything."

"Yuji, baby, I can open a water bottle." You giggle at how cute and careful he is.

"Oh, right! Here you go." Your fingers touch his as he hands you the bottled beverage. A small smile rises on your face and his smile widens when he sees you smiling.

You gulp down the water quickly which was a terrible idea. Small sips is always the way to go, but sex has left you parched for some odd reason.

"Do you wanna hop in the bath?" His head perks at your questions.

"Oh yeah! You probably wanna get clean, right? I'll give you a massage too if you'd like!" Who are you to tell this beautiful man, "no"?

"Of course, Yuji. Thank you for taking care of me." Pride swells inside of him at the thought of taking care of you.

Megumi Fushiguro

Sigh. Like father, like son. He's not as bad as Toji, but when you guys first slept together he rolled over and fell asleep once you came.

When you told him why you were upset his response was "at least you came, right?"

Which he admits now that that was NOT the best thing to say. He's changed since then, though.

"Here," he throws pain killers and your favorite snack at you. You'd just finished showering about twenty minutes ago. Yes, you invited your boyfriend to join you but he had to resist your offer. He knew he wouldn't be able to keep his hands off of you and you already expressed your tiredness.

Anyone else would probably be offended if their partner threw stuff at them, but this is Megumi's way of expressing his love.

"You good?" He asks when you don't move to pick up your snack.

"Mhm, but you know it's best for me to take pain killers before sex. They're useless now." He dodges the pill bottle when you throw it at him.

"They won't reduce the after sex pain? Thought they did. Well anyway, you wanna watch something? I actually started getting into that one show you like."

The way your heart fluttered at his question left you all sappy and excited.

"Yeah get over here."

He's not perfect at aftercare but he's yours and he makes sure to tend to your needs in his own way.

Sukuna Ryomen

Honestly I don't even think I need to write anything for him but ima try my best!

He was confused about the way you stared at him when you joined him in the bathroom. He was brushing his teeth.

"What brat?" He asks staring at you through the mirror.

"You literally split me in half and didn't even bother to take care of me afterward.." You state awkwardly as you sit on the covered toilet seat.

"Eh? What happened to all that independent woman shit? Can't ya do it yourself?" He asks, the toothpaste and toothbrush in his mouth made his words a little bit hard to understand, but you get the gist.

"I mean I can do it myself, but it's more intimate when you do it with your partner!" Honestly it was useless trying to explain yourself because Sukuna is stubborn as hell.

"We had plenty'a intimacy when I was eatin' your pussy like less than ten minutes ago." There's sass in his voice and he rolls his eyes.

It was best to give up, because he wasn't going to listen. The walk of shame was super embarrassing and you made yourself a little spot on the couch to sleep on for the night.

Fifteen minutes later Sukuna's stomping into the living room.

"What're ya doing out here on the couch when we have a whole bed?" It's obviously a rhetorical question, he has a good idea of what you're mad about.

"You know why I'm pissed. You're an asshole, Ryomen. I don't even want to talk to you right now, so go away." The malice in your tone was evident and he switched up upon hearing you call him his full first name rather than that dumb nickname he will never admit that he likes.

"Ugh... so whiny. If I take care of ya, all the domestic shit. Will ya bring your ass back to bed?" He asks, a hand on his slutty waist.

"Yes." You quip quickly.

"Fine. Come on."

That was the start of the aftercare you deserved, and surprisingly he was good at it. When you asked him where he got all this experience from he said, "I was a human with feeling at some point. I know how to care for people, when I want."

Yuta Okkotsu

He didn't want to fuck up so he researched any and everything. From hydration to what foods are good to eat afterwards and so on.

"Thank you Yuta, this is delicious." It really is good, his cooking is phenomenal. It always warms your heart. You'd started on dinner but Yuta distracted you which led to having your legs spread on the counter for him.

"It's the least I can do for you for treating me so well." He says with a suggestive smirk and you know exactly what what he's implying.

"Also food is important to build your stamina back up after sex. Did bathing with those bath salts help any?" He's read that they're supposed to relax and calm the body. He made you soak for twenty minutes.

"It did, I don't feel as sore as I did earlier." And it's true, Yuta knew more about how to care for yourself better than you did which surprised you to some extent. Sometimes it felt more like a nagging parent than helpful advice but he usually doesn't get to that point.

"Make sure you're taking care of yourself too, babe. It's not all about me." You remind him.

He nods while chewing. "I always take care of myself after you. I'll wash up after we tackle the dishes."

Toge Inumaki

Toge is a worrier when it comes to aftercare. He wants you to be satisfied with his efforts.

Never again did you fall asleep without cleaning yourself up or letting Toge help you do it. Last time you did he commanded you to get in the tub so he could scrub you clean.

He wrote an apology on a piece of paper afterward. He just wanted you to get clean.

He cares a lot about you and your emotions, and obviously it's hard for him to do that in words, so he tries his best to do it through his actions.

Tonight is no different, he's washing your hair in the shower. The water is the perfect temperature and you can feel Toge pressed up against you. The way his finger tips graze your scalp are just right/ You about fall asleep.

"Mustard Leaf." He says in worry. He doesn't want a repeat of last week, when you fell asleep in the shower and you slipped almost causing a concussion if he hadn't caught you last second.

"I.. I'm awake. I won't fall asleep again, promise." You yawn and the worry dissipates for the most part. He trusts your words.

"Salmon." He responds and you smile lazily.

Your most earnest moments are when the two of you are in the shower. You feel the need to rid yourself of anything from the day so you tell him everything. He nods along and gives you comforting touches to assure you.

"I love you so much, Toge. Thank you for cleaning me up."

Your white haired boyfriend nods his head at you with a smile. Your eyes follow his hand as he writes " I ♡ YOU" with his finger, on the glass door of the shower.

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rafeandonlyrafe · 2 months

Text

can i hold it?

words: 2k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, piss kink!!!, getting peed on haha lol :), shower sex, p in v sex, unprotected sex

you whine as rafe tries to pull away from you, making him laugh and press a kiss to your cheek. “just going pee baby.”

“take me with you.” you raise your arms up.

“to the bathroom?” rafe questions, raising his eyebrow.

“yeah.” you nod. “you said we could spend all day together, if you’re leaving this bed then so am i.” “alright, suit yourself.” rafe shrugs, leaning down to pick you up bridal style, walking the short distance to the attached bathroom. he sets you down on the counter as you stretch, having been cuddling and kissing since you arrived at rafes house, not wanting to do anything else.

rafe walks over to the toilet, flipping the lid up. you watch with fascination as he pulls at the tie on his sweatpants, the string unraveling so he can push them and his underwear down before pulling out his cock.

“wait.” you interrupt rafe.

“what baby? i really gotta piss?” rafe asks with a sigh.

“can i hold it for you?” you ask, not able to keep the excitement from your voice. “you know, while you pee.” “sure.” rafe shrugs. “but hurry the fuck up, i’m about to burst.” rafe had stayed in bed as long as he possibly could as to not break your relaxed state, which only led to urgently needing to go.

you quickly hop off the counter. you gently grab rafes soft dick, having only touched him a few times when soft, and always with the intention of getting him hard quickly.

you aim towards the toilet bowl, gasping when rafe begins to pee. you watch in fascination, surprised how much you like the feeling in your hand, even a little saddened when he finishes.

“gotta shake it a little baby.” rafe instructs, making you look at him with confusion in your eyes, wondering if he was just wanting you to give him a handjob.

“to get the last few drops out.” rafe explains.

“oh.” you nod, turning back to look at his dick, shaking it a little as final drops of piss fling off his tip.

“perfect.” rafe smiles, taking his cock and tucking it back into his underwear. “thanks baby.” “you’re welcome.” you smile, knowing you need to recreate the experience again immediately.

rafe heads back towards the bed, expecting you to follow as he flops down. “i… i gotta go get a drink of water.” you say quickly, rushing out of the room and towards the kitchen, getting a glass for yourself and one for rafe, making sure to fill his up fully.

“got one for you too.” you smile as you come back into the room, handing the glass to rafe who takes a hearty sip but then sets it on the nightstand.

“thanks princess.” he smiles. “now come give me a kiss.”

you wrap your arms around rafe as you fall into the bed, his lips finding yours as you cuddle up to him, legs twisting together.

“i love days like this.” you admit with a happy sigh, rubbing your thumb over his cheek. “where we can just relax alone.” “i love it too, baby.” rafe says softly. “sorry i’ve been so busy lately. shits just been wild. but we are home together now.” “thank you.” you mumble, running your lips teasingly over rafes until he can’t resist any longer, pushing forward to complete the kiss. rafe has been busy over the past couple of weeks, which resulted in you barely getting any attention, so he cleared the entire day just for the two of you, no plans, no friends, no parties, just the two of you.

“can i pick the movie?” you ask rafe, even though he always lets you chose (except that one time he really wanted to watch john wick)

“of course.” rafe hands you the remote, and you quickly get to work pulling up a film. “ponyo!” “you love ponyo.” rafe says with a roll of his eyes. he discounted the film based on the cutesy style, but always really enjoys every time you choose to watch it.

“shh. be quiet and drink your water.” you mumble, reaching for you own glass as well, hoping if rafe sees you drinking that it would spur him to gulp down more, and thankfully he does take a drink.

you cuddle up to rafe as the movie begins, watching as he occasionally drinks more of his water, almost absentmindedly until the glass is empty.

“i’ll get you a refill!” you tell rafe, about to jump off the bed when he stops you.

“baby, you love this part?” he questions, a hint of suspicion in his voice. “i’ll get the refill.”

“mmkay.” you nod, leaning back against the pillows as rafe exits the room, glass in hand as your eyes drift back to the tv, ponyo using her magic powers to make the toy boat increase in size.

you smile at rafe when he returns, also with a small bowl of cashews to snack on. you’re happy he chose a salty snack as he takes even more frequent drinks until you get to the ending of the movie, singing along and doing a little shimmy as the song plays over the credits.

“you’re so cute.” rafe smiles, setting his now empty bowl down onto his nightstand. “gotta pee again, wanna hold it?” “yes!” you squeal, following rafe with excitement as he heads into the bathroom.

“jesus, baby.” he laughs at your giddy face. “didn’t think you’d like holding it while i pee this much.” “i don’t know why.” you admit, rubbing your thighs together subconsciously, but it doesn’t go unnoticed by rafe. “i just really like it. makes me feel close to you.” you lean forward and press a kiss to rafes cheek, having to get up on your tiptoes to reach.

“wait… is that why you got me water? so you could hold it again?” rafe laughs, placing his hands on his hips.

“maybe…” you mumble, rocking back and forth on the heels of your feet.

“baby, did you choose ponyo because of the water? thought it would make me have to go even faster?”

“rafey, just pull it out!” you whine, surging forward to tug at the string of his sweatpants, unraveling it.

“you like my piss so much, i should go on you.” rafe scoffs, tugging the front of his pants down and pulling out his dick, but you don’t reach for it, your eyes wide and legs clenched together. rafe notices your reaction, smirking when he realizes just how much his words affect you.

“you want that huh? take your clothes off.”

“wh-what?” your eyebrows raise.

“well, unless you want me to piss all over your clothes, take them off. and get in the shower.” rafe says, tugging his own shirt off.

“o-okay.” you nod, quickly stripping your clothes off, glad that you’re not wearing much. you head into the shower, hands shaking in nerves and anticipation.

“well, kneel down.” rafe says, making you jump as he steps in behind you, also completely naked. you nod and kneel down, eyes wide as you look up at rafe.

“not… not the face, please.” you tell rafe. you’re not sure about it yet, you’re not even sure if you’d like his piss anywhere else on your body, but you desperately want to feel it.

“you control that, baby.” rafe says with a chuckle. “you’re holding it, remember?” “right.” you nod, reaching forward to grasp rafes dick, still mostly soft but you can tell he’s aroused and trying to hold it back. you aim towards your bare chest, letting out a gasp when rafe begins to pee, the stream landing on your tits, nipples instantly perking up as the warm stream spreads over them, then down the front of your belly.

a moan forces its way out of you when the piss glides down your body, pooling between your legs. since rafe was so hydrated, there’s almost no smell, his stream mostly clear as he finishes. you smile up at rafe, unable to control your expression, clearly letting him know how much you enjoyed it. you even remember to shake the last few drops out.

“such a good girl.” rafe leans down, pressing a kiss against your grin.

he helps you stand up before continuing to kiss, your hand still wrapped around his cock as rafe operates the shower one handed, making sure to turn the shower head away as it warms up, turning on the water to clean you off.

“before we get you all clean-” rafe says, your hand now beginning to stroke him when you feel how hard he’s getting against your palm. “let me get you a bit dirtier.”

rafe shoves your hand away before gripping your thigh and tugging it up around his waist, using his other hand to guide his cock towards your entrance. you moan as he doesn’t tease you at all, immediately sinking his hips forward, burying his cock deep inside of you.

rafe gives you a second to adjust, despite being sopping wet. “my dirty little whore. wanting me to piss all over you.”

“i… i liked it a lot.” you admit shyly, wiggling your hips slightly.

“i can tell, baby.” rafe lets out a laugh, beginning to snap his hips forward. “gonna use you like that a lot more often.” he says, thrusting into you with rapid pace, his hand moving to your clit, knowing either of you will be able to last long.

your hands grip his strong shoulders, feeling the muscles underneath your fingertips, pulling him even closer so your chests rub togethers, stimulating your still wet nipples.

“can’t believe you used ponyo to make me have to pee.” rafe laughs.

“i did what i had to.” you gasp out as his fingers rub faster, dipping down lower towards your entrance to collect more of your wetness on his fingers before gliding upwards.

“gosh, i’m never gonna get to piss alone ever again, am i?” rafe says, but he doesn’t mind, not when it clearly turns you both on so much.

“never.” you hum, eyes sliding shut as you press the back of your head against the shower wall.

“gonna cum for me princess?” rafe asks. truth is, you’ve been moments away since he first agreed to let you hold it.

“yeah.” you nod quickly. “yeah, gonna cum for you rafey.”

“go ahead, doll.” rafe smirks, snapping his hips forward until you let out a gasp, body shaking against the cold tiles as you cum, cunt pulsing around rafes cock, pushing him over the edge as well as he cums with a grunt, pushing into you as he releases.

“fuck!” you whine out, reaching down to shove rafes fingers away from your clit, needing a reprieve as he gently grinds into you, riding out his high.

“oh my god, baby.” rafe groans, dropping his head into the crook of your next. “that was so good.”

you let out a small giggle as your fingers reach to the back of his head, gently rubbing your fingers against his scalp through the short cropped hair.

“you’re lucky i don’t have to piss again.” rafe says, thrusting ever so slightly in again to show what he means.

“can… can you try in there next time?” you glance down.

rafe smiles as he pulls out, his cock flopping out of you as he slowly lowers your leg from around his hip, knowing you’ll need a moment to regain your balance as he keeps his chest pressed against your body, holding you upright against the wall. “just pissed on you and you already want me to piss inside of you? damn baby, i didn’t realize my sweet girlfriend was such a freak!”

“shut up.” you say with a roll of your eyes, a smile on your lips as rafe turns the shower head back towards the two of you, warm water running over your body as your eyes sink closed, already reminiscing in the memory of kneeling before rafe.

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @ladyinbl00d @juniebugg

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irisintheafterglow · 2 months

Text

do you guys ever think about streamer!sakusa because i do

cw: swearing

sakusasbigtits👑👑: wait wtf are they in the room ??? hinatashoyolover: ASHDSFKAJSDFHG ellawantsaran👑: PARTNER REVEAL violetvolley2012: mOVE YOUR FUCKNIG WEBCAM oikawamilkbox7: SHWO PARTNER SHOW FPARTNER miya_osamu: what the fuck is going on

"what the hell is a miya doing in my chat? i could've sworn you guys just finished a charity stream," he dodges, leaning back in his chair as chaotic messages urging him to show his partner flew by. "look, i don't know what you guys are talking about. there's no one in the room but me." cross-legged on his bed and wearing his jersey, you stifle a laugh into your fist just out of sight. his eyes flicker over to you for a moment and soften before he goes back to manipulating his chat.

miyarearrangemyinsides👑: YOU FUCKING LIAR sakusasbigtits👑👑: WHY ARE YOU GASLIGHTING US

"i'm serious." more messages of indignancy light up his screen. "i don't think you guys even know what gaslighting means." a smirk spreads across his face as chat explodes, taking the bait and continuing to argue with their favorite man through a screen. "thank you kuroobella7 for the five gifted-"

stop being a big baby and show us your partner, deadpans the automatic voice reading out his donations. you can't help it, that time, and the laugh that slips out is definitely picked up by kiyoomi's mic.

sakusasbigtits👑👑: WHO WAS THAT oikawamilkbox7: WE HEARD THAT OMI tinygianttwo: hi sakusa!!

"hey, shoyo. welcome back to the hellhole that is my chat," he says, continuing to ignore the outrage rising in his stream. "hop in vc one, i'm gonna see if bokuto wants to play phasmophobia." your attention returns to your laptop and you continue with typing out the rest of your assignment.

you vaguely register kiyoomi saying something about grabbing another drink, forcing an ad onscreen before creeping over to you. his hands rest on the edge of the bed as he leans forward, pressing his lips softly to yours and smiling against your mouth. "i love you a lot."

"i love you more. when are you gonna stop convincing chat that i don't exist?"

"when they earn it," he answers simply, kissing the corner of your mouth and the tip of your nose. if lovesickness were a disease, he wouldn't mind being ill. "which i think will take a very long time."

"you are not making my stream debut a sub-goal," you chuckle, tilting your neck up to kiss the moles above his eyebrow. "i will not let you."

"how else are they gonna earn it?"

"i am not letting you monetize showing my face on your stream, omi," you reiterate with a delirious smile. he continues to push, nudging his nose against yours like a needy cat.

"you're cute when in my jersey. what if i end stream right now and just lay here with you?"

"okay, lover boy," you say, gently pushing his face away. "go back to--huh?" both of your attentions shoot to your phone, where the beaming face of bokuto's contact photo illuminated your screen. you swipe down on the sudden influx of notifications and feel your heart stop.

Less Tolerable Miya👎🏐: CHECK CHAT HAHAHA THERES NO FUCKIGN WAY Better Miya🍙🏐: oi check your volume stupid Bokuhoe Kotaro🦉✨🏐: BABE YOUR BOYFRIEND ISNT MTUED Less Tolerable Miya👎🏐: wait is my name in your phone still less tolerable miya Sunshine Shoyo🧡☀️🏐: SAKUSA'S STREAM SOUND IS ON

"oh...shit," he mutters, pressing one more kiss to your forehead before running to his computer and throwing his headphones on, face bright pink and tripping over his words. his chat is a wildfire, persistent and absolutely uncontrollable. at some point, kiyoomi just gives up and leans back in his chair, looking for you to help.

you raise your eyebrows in question.

he tilts his head to beckon you over.

you appear in the frame of his webcam, wearing his jersey. kiyoomi looks at you like you are the only thing that matters in his entire world.

"alright fuckers, you happy now that you've seen 'em? good, because if we reach subgoal, i'm gonna make them play fnaf with me."

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#sakusa x reader #sakusa x you #sakusa x y/n #haikyu x you #haikyu x reader #haikyu x y/n #sakusa kiyoomi x you #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x y/n #kiyoomi x reader #kiyoomi x you #kiyoomi x y/n #hq x you #hq x reader #hq x y/n

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javiscigarette · 8 months

Text

Sweet Spot

Summary: You get a promotion at work, so Joel dresses you up and takes you out for dinner but you're hungry for somethin else

Warnings: no use of y/n, smut with the tiniest sliver of plot, established relationship, fingering, fingering in public, rough sex, oral (m receiving), spitting, a bit of choking, daddy kink ofc, degradation,

w/c: 9k (omfg) of pwp :)

a/n: I don't loveee this one but I've been sitting on it for three months and I can't get the image of freshly showered Joel out of my mind so. Here we are. Also the daddy kink as taken over, I cant stop and I'm NOT sorry!! Pls let me know what you guys think, your comments and love are the only things keeping me going. (also also, if you're someone who likes making edits for pics PLS message me I am desperate and really bad at making them)

my masterlist

Joel is in the driveway leaning over the hood of his truck when you pull up to the house, fiddling with whatever new project he decided to start this afternoon. You’re able to catch a quick glimpse of his shirt riding up a bit, exposing an inch or two of the skin of his back before he hears your car and turns around.

You pull into the driveway next to his truck and hop out as soon as you’re in park. The warm sound of Joel’s laughter fills the air as you squeal excitedly, running around the front of your car and into his outstretched arms. He pulls you close into him, his black t-shirt hot from the sun has he squeezes you tightly. He smells like motor oil and sweat and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t get you going just a little bit.

“M’guessing it went well?” Joel asks when he pulls back, chuckling as he watches you bounce up and down on your toes.

You’d been working on this presentation for your job for two weeks now, spending hours smoothing out every minor detail, giving mock presentations to Joel and staying up late worrying about how it’ll go.

“Everyone loved it, Joel!” you nearly shout.

“And guess what?” you ask, not giving him any time to respond. “I got promoted!” you squeal.

Joel’s chest is about to burst with pride.

“M’so proud of you, angel. You worked so hard for it.” Joel tells you, his voice soft and sincere as he holds you against him.

“We need to get in the shower,” Joel says, turning away from you to lower the hood of his truck. “I’m taking you out.”

—-----------

You sit on the edge of the bed with your towel wrapped around your waist, waiting patiently for Joel to return from the closet. It's no surprise when he returns with a bundle of black fabric – in his hands is his favorite thing you own: the lacey black 3 piece set and the thigh high stockings to match.

He has a wide smile, his eyes sparkling with affection as he looks at you. With a soft smile in return, you drop your towel allowing it to pool on the bed around you as you expose yourself completely for him.

“You’re so pretty, baby”

Your ears perk up at the slight strain in his voice. You look down and grin, the outline of his half-hard cock clear as day under his black boxer briefs.

“We’re never gonna make it to the restaurant” you laugh and move to stand up for him, despite wishing he would just give in right now and fuck you until you couldn’t see straight.

But he just shakes his head with a chuckle as he takes your place, sitting on the edge of the bed with you standing between his knees.

“Yes we will, angel. And we’ll play when we get back, give you whatever you want…if you’re good” Joel promises, easily reading your mind.

You huff dramatically as he picks out the garter belt from the pile and holds it up to you. He doesn’t say anything, just braces himself when you reach out and grip his shoulder for balance as you lift up one leg.

He bends over, holding the belt open so that you can step with one foot and then the other. He then straightens back up, pulling the fabric up your legs as he does so. Heat pools in your tummy when you look down at him and see his brows knitted together in serious concentration as he dresses you.

He does this all the time. The routine is committed to muscle memory at this point.

It’s not that he cares about what you wear, he couldn’t give two shits as long as you’re comfortable. But the power in deciding what you’re going to wear underneath, or if you’re going to wear anything at all, gives him a rush. And he’s positively obsessed with being the one to dress you up in it, says it’s like “wrapping his own present that he gets to rip open later”.

Goosebumps erupt all over your skin under his warm fingers. You feel so beautiful in these moments, with Joel so focused on your body inches away from his face, his eyes wide and his cock hard just at the mere sight of your exposed skin and the excitement of seeing you in whatever he picks out for you.

He settles the belt around your waist, making sure all the edges are untucked and lying flat before reaching for the thong and repeating the process.

“So fucking, pretty” Joel mumbles as he smooths the lace over your hips, adjusting the elastic so it stretches perfectly over your skin. Then he’s spinning you around so until you’re facing the other away, your ass on full display for him. He can’t help but press a kiss to your cheek before straightening out the back of your thong, his mouth watering at the sight of the thin strip of fabric disappearing in between your cheeks.

Mindlessly, he reaches around to your front and slips his hand between your thighs. The tips of his fingers just barely brush over the lace of your thong but he can feel the heat of your swollen pussy underneath.

He sighs and wraps his other arm around your waist and pulls you back into him until his cheek is squished against your lower back, his scruff scratching lightly against your sensitive skin. His fingers keep dancing over you with minimal pressure behind his touch.

“Joel,” you whimper quietly, already getting all worked up from his minimal teasing. He just shushes you and presses another warm kiss to the back of your hip. After a couple more seconds of light brushes he slips his middle finger into the side of your thong to find your entrance and immediately sinks it inside of you.

You yelp in surprise, and reflexively try to take a step away from him, but he’s got you tight in his grip.

“Just wanna feel you, baby” Joel mumbles against your skin, his beard tickling you and making the muscles in your lower back twitch. He closes his eyes, fully focused on feeling your wet walls flutter gently around his finger. His brow furrows and his mouth drops open slightly when he hears your quiet whimper, the sweet sound going straight to his already painfully hard cock.

He doesn’t even mean to tease you most of the time. Sure, he loves seeing you get all worked up just from a few gentle touches and he adores watching you fall apart underneath him, collapsing into a begging mess for him before he’s even really done anything. But most of the time it’s a genuine need to touch you. It’s like he needs to have physical contact with your body at all times, serving as a reminder that you’re real, you’re here and you’re all his.

He slides his finger out a few seconds later, much to your disappointment. But before you can complain, he spins you back around and stares you in the eyes as brings his finger up in front of you and gently pushes it between your parted lips. You allow him without any hesitation, and he watches you in awe as you lick and suck his finger clean of your arousal, his jaw slack and eyes dark and wide.

“Ain’t it sweet, angel?” Joel asks, breathless with amusement and lust.

You nod and he grins before slowly sliding his finger out of your mouth.

“S’a good girl, baby” Joel comments as he reaches for one of the thigh high stockings. His praise wraps around your heart and melts into your veins, just his simple words making you feel warm and floaty.

You watch him as he bunches up the stocking at the foot, holding it open for you to step in before pulling it up your leg. He smooths out the lace edge and makes sure that it’s even all around your thigh before he fastens the clips of the garter belt to the top of the stocking. He does the same thing with your other leg before turning you around again and fastening the clips in the back.

Joel turns you around so you’re facing him again and then presses a kiss to the top of each thigh.

“Fuckin’ perfect” he sighs as he leans back and admires his work.

You blush under his gaze, his eyes burning holes in your skin as he stares hungrily. He stands up after a few moments and reaches for the matching bralette, helping you slip it over your shoulders before fastening the clasps in the back.

He looks down at you and tries to resist the urge to touch you again but he can’t keep himself away. And the small moan you let out when he brings both his thumbs up to brush over your nipples through the lace has him nearly giving in right then and there.

You look up at him with pleading eyes, silently telling him that you’re not going to be good for much longer if he keeps this up. He stares back at you and thinks about pushing you, letting you act like a bad girl before fucking some sense into you. But he decides he wants to show you off first.

“Go get dressed, baby” Joel instructs gently with a smile. “Pick something nice for me.”

—

You decide on a black dress, one that clings to all the right places while just barely concealing the tops of your stockings and the clips holding them in place. You finish getting ready in the bathroom, and when you walk back out to the bedroom, you nearly collapse at the sight in front of you.

Joel is standing in front of the floor-length mirror with his back turned to you. He’s wearing a simple outfit: black trousers with a black button down to match. The top two buttons of his shirt are undone and your mouth waters at the exposed skin of his thick neck and broad chest.

It’s almost unfair how good he looks with his hair pushed back just slightly, the damp locks just starting to curl into their usual pattern as they air dry. Your heart races at the thought of tangling your fingers into the ones laying at the nape of his neck. His eyes meet yours in the mirror and he smirks as he finishes rolling up his sleeves until they rest perfectly at his elbows.

He then reaches for his rings – the ones you got for him as part of his birthday present earlier this year, the small gold bands that you insisted would look good on him – and picks them up from where they’re sitting on the dresser. And clearly you were right because when he turns to face you, you almost moan out loud watching him slide a ring down one pinky and then the other. He crosses the room towards you, your knees trembling as he shamelessly rakes his eyes up and down your figure.

“Stunning” Joel whispers, shaking his head slightly in disbelief. His hands easily find your hips and he gently turns you around so you’re facing the mirror, your back pressed into his warm, broad chest.

“I love you, angel. And I’m so fuckin’ proud of you, you know that right?” Joel asks as he wraps both arms around your waist and hooks his chin over your shoulder.

“Yes, Joel, I know. I love you too” you giggle, easily flustered at his praise.

“M’serious, baby. So proud of how hard you work, how dedicated you are” Joel starts, moving to nuzzle his face against your neck. “How smart you are” Joel continues, his lips brushing delicately over your sensitive skin. You melt so easily underneath him, relaxing into the soft glide of his warm palms up and down your sides as he whispers sweet words of praise into your neck.

“And I bet you looked fuckin’ sexy doing it too” Joel growls, his hands tightening on your hip. You let out a mixture between a sniffle and laugh and then feel Joel’s lips curve into a smile against your neck. He presses a kiss behind your ear and straightens back up and turns you around to face him.

Joel’s heart turns to liquid when you look up at him through watery lashes with a wide smile. He smiles down at you and brings a hand up to wipe away your tears with the pad of his thumb before placing a sweet kiss on your forehead.

“Now let’s get goin’. I think my good girl deserves to be spoiled.”

—

Joel was back to teasing you as soon got in his truck and continued to do so the whole ride to the restaurant. He kept one hand on the wheel, using the other to slide up and down your thigh, occasionally fiddling with your garter straps or just brushing the lace edge of your thong with his fingertips.

And now you’re seated at a table in a dark corner of the dimly lit restaurant, and you can barely think straight. Joel had spoiled you with the most expensive champagne, far more appetizers than two people could possibly eat and a main course of delectable pasta on a plate bigger than your head. And of course, he looked devilishly handsome the whole night, and he knows it too, smirking and looking at you like he’s about to pounce across the table and devour you. Now you sat there with a full belly, but you were still hungry for revenge.

“What’d your coworkers say? When they saw you got promoted” Joel asks as he pours you both another glass of champagne. You furrow your brows at his question, so far away from even thinking of that whole situation at work and so turned on that you almost completely forgot about the reason why you’re even here right now.

You look up at his face, forcing yourself to peel your eyes away from the muscles bulging underneath his shirt as he sets the bottle back down. He has that knowing look in his eyes when you find them, his signature smirk thinly veiled with a sweet smile.

Without even trying to answer his question, you slide down slightly in your chair. He watches curiously as you shift in your seat for a few seconds. Just as he opens his mouth to ask you what you’re doing, your warm foot presses against the crotch of his pants.

He freezes in place. His hand visibly tightens around the stem of his champagne glass, and you can see the muscles in his jaw twitching. You fully expect him to push your foot back to the ground, but he doesn’t. Instead, he just leans back in his chair and spreads his knees giving you more room to work. He tilts his head and stares at you, a smirk creeping up on his lips when he sees the devious twinkle in your eye.

You look back with a smirk to match and experimentally wiggle your toes against him. Your heart pounds in your chest when he narrows his eyes at you and slowly moves his hand beneath the tablecloth. You stop wiggling your toes when he wraps his hand around your ankle, the heat radiating from his palm to your skin like a hot iron through the thin material of your stocking.

“Think about it, angel” he warns quietly. There’s a brief pause, where you pretend to weigh the risks and rewards, trying to decide whether to be good or bad. But your mind was made up before you even left the house.

After a few seconds, you smirk back at him and press the ball of your stockinged foot against him. Joel chuckles and leans back in his chair again, watching you amusedly. He doesn't move, barely even flinches when you press a little harder against him and it’s infuriating. It's completely unfair how he’s able to literally bring you to your knees with a single touch but remains completely composed when you touch him.

But what you don’t see is his heart hammering in his chest or the sweat starting to prickle the back of his neck. Truthfully, he had been just as turned on as you this whole time. Actually, he could feel the heat stirring the second that you told him about your promotion.

He was barely able to hold back when he was picking out your lingerie for the night. He had to take a break in the closet, leaning against the dresser as he took a couple of deep breaths to try and calm himself down.

And when he started dressing you, he could’ve come right there in his boxers at the sight of the garter belt sliding up your waist. Then the ride over here, the smell of your perfume mixing perfectly with his cologne in the cab of his truck, his head going fuzzy at the scent that seeped into the fabric of his seats, a reminder of you that’ll stick around for a few days.

And now with your foot covered in the delicate mesh of the stockings that he dressed you in pressing deliciously against his aching cock, he’s rapidly losing his self-control.

But Joel is just as stubborn as you, not willing to give in so easily.

So, he bites his tongue and suppresses any noise and tenses his muscles trying not to flinch. Because seeing you get frustrated like this was just turning him on even more. He’s about to say something but you see the waiter coming up behind him and immediately move your foot back to the floor and sit up straight.

Joel exhales heavily, releasing all the tension he was holding. He doesn’t even hear what the waiter says, too busy admiring the flustered look on your face and the slight shake in your voice as you talk to the waiter.

The waiter leaves after a few moments and you face Joel again with a mix between a pout and a glare.

“What was the plan there?” Joel asks, cocking his head to the side in mock curiosity while he secretly prays that his voice doesn’t crack.

You don’t respond, just keep glaring at him as you shove your foot back into the shoe.

“You were being so good, what happened?” Joel presses, each word drenched with sarcastic concern. He watches delightedly as you huff and cross your arms over your chest.

“S’okay, baby” Joel says, his voice dropping half an octave. Your stomach flutters with excitement.

This is exactly how Joel starts off every proposition and you can’t wait to see what he wants you to do next.

Joel pauses and looks at you with an evil glint in his eye. You should’ve seen this coming from miles away. But it still slaps you in the face when he says it.

“I want you to slip a hand under that pretty dress and touch yourself. Right here, right now.” Joel says so quietly that you barely hear him.

Your breath gets caught around the lump in your throat and Joel just smiles at you.

“Go on, baby. Since you’re so needy and set on bein’ bad” Joel encourages after a few seconds of you not moving. “Or we can get the paddle out when we get home?”

The threat of paddle was more than enough.

You glance around to see if anyone can see you like this. No one was sitting near you though, the booth you’re in provides a decent amount of privacy and all direct lines of sight to you are clear. With a gulp and shift down in your seat again and your pussy throbs, pathetically turned on as you slide your hand under the tablecloth and up your dress. You move slowly to slide two fingers into the side of your thong, just like Joel did an hour earlier.

It’s no shock how wet you are, the lace of your thong absolutely soaked, your whole cunt swollen and slick with it. Your eyes flit up to Joel’s and he gives you a small, encouraging nod.

“You’re soaked for me, aren’t you angel?” Joel asks. His voice is so calm and steady that you almost stop and get up to walk over to his side of the table and strangle him. You’re so turned on you can barely breathe, and you’re pissed at him for it. It’s maddening how he has you so needy and desperate for him that you’re willing to touch yourself in publicwhile he just watches.

You give into your temptations easily, working quickly to soothe the aching need that spreads across every single inch of your skin. You glance around again, making sure no one is looking before you ease your middle finger into your dripping entrance, your eyelashes fluttering a bit as you curl your fingers and press up against your g-spot.

Joel’s head is swimming as he watches you finger yourself right there in front of him in this restaurant. Any moment someone will pinch him and tell him to wake the fuck up because there’s no way in hell that this actually happening.

His head is foggy, turned on just as much as you are. His cock strains in his pants, tingles rushing down his spine as he stares at you, biting your lip, your eyes barely open and your eyebrows drawing together as you try to hold back soft moans.

He wants more.

“Faster.”

You snap your eyes open and look at him as if to ask if you heard him correctly. The look he gives you tells you that you absolutely did.

Well, you’re not gonna say no to that.

Your teeth sink deeper into your lip as you heed his orders and start pumping your finger faster. You’re painfully aware of any sounds you make, whether it’s a moan clawing its way up your throat or the slick sounds of your finger gliding through your folds, you try your best to keep it down.

Joel of course isn’t any help.

“Don’t be too loud, baby.” Joel whispers before taking a large swig of champagne. “Wouldn’t want ya to embarrass yourself”

You shoot daggers at him over the dinner table, but you don’t slow down. And now he’s stumped because does he punish you for being bad, playing footsies under the table with him and fingering yourself in public or should he praise you for being a good girl and listening to him.

“Baby,” Joel starts, his voice tight in his throat. “Show me, I want to see.”

To his surprise, you obey easily enough and slide your finger out from under your dress. You bring your hand out from under the tablecloth to present to Joel. His adam’s apple bob in his throat, swallowing thickly at the sight of your middle finger absolutely coated in your wetness, some of it glistening on your palm as well. He nearly loses it when you spread your fingers apart, thin strings of your arousal stretching between your digits.

“Fuck” Joel hisses. There’s a tingle of delight in your stomach as you watch him shift in his chair, finally starting to visibly crack.

He doesn’t say anything else, just reaches into the inner pocket of his jacket to grab his wallet. He hastily pulls out more than enough cash and nearly slams it on the table before standing up.

“C’mon” Joel commands firmly, extending his hand out to you. You blink at him, not moving a muscle otherwise. You don’t know why, something innate inside you when you’re around him, but even when you're inches away from an orgasm you still find room to be bratty.

“And what if I wanted dessert?”

Joel’s jaw clenches as he grinds his teeth together, the tendons in his neck pressing against his skin and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop the smirk forming on your face

“Angel,” Joel huffs. “Get up right now and I’ll give you anything you want.”

That’s all it takes. Joel shakes his head when you immediately grab his hand and pull yourself to stand up.

“Such a fuckin’ brat” Joel mumbles as he wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his side. He practically drags you out of the restaurant, his grip tight on your waist and your heels clicking on the asphalt as you trot next to him to keep up with his long strides as he speeds back to the truck.

Ever the gentleman, he opens the passenger door for you, keeping his eyes glued to your body as you climb inside. With you safely inside, he slams the door shut, the sound of your heavy breathing fills the otherwise silent cab of the truck as you watch him walk over to the driver’s side.

You wait a few moments to see if he’ll say anything, but he just stares straight ahead, the muscles in his jaw flexing subtly like he’s chewing over what he’s going to say next as he shoves the key into the ignition.

He backs out of the parking spot and leaves the parking lot without saying a single word. Meanwhile, you’re a mess sitting next to him,

You manage to keep your mouth shut for one whole minute.

“I was just following your instructions” you mumble, crossing your arms over your chest with an exaggerated pout. His jaw shifts to the side but he doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t even look at you.

You sigh dramatically and glance sideways at him to see if he’s looking. But he keeps staring straight ahead. There’s a small part of you that realizes that this is probably all part of his grand plan to drive you up the wall, work you up until you can’t take it anymore. But there’s a much larger part of you that desperately wants his attention.

“And isn’t this my treat anyway? Shouldn’t I be getting what I want?” you press, dipping into dangerous territory just to try and get a reaction out of him.

Still nothing.

The thought of slipping your hand under your dress again crosses your mind, but his earlier threat of the paddle quickly extinguishes it.

All you can do is sit there with a pout etched into your face and ride the rest of the home in silence.

You’re about to explode when he pulls into the driveway. He slides out of his seat and strides over to your side and opens the door. The fire in his eyes burns fiercely as you take your sweet time climbing out. He slams the door shut behind you as soon as you’re out and turns on his heel and quickly makes his way to the door. You groan and actually stamp your foot in frustration. It’s just not fair.

You stomp towards the door, arms still crossed over your chest.

“You said you’d give me anything I want” you call after him, recalling his words from earlier as you make your way inside.

You barely make it through the door before he’s pushing you against it, using his whole body to keep you pinned in place. Your breath catches in your throat and your knees weaken instantly, all of your resolve immediately crumbling around your feet.

He has one hand on your waist while he braces himself with the other one on the wall next to your head. His face is inches from yours and you can smell the sweet champagne on his breath and the cologne on his skin. His eyes flit from yours to your lips, his pupils blown so wide that there’s just a sliver of brown around them

“I said if you were good” he hisses, his voice dangerously low. “What you pulled back there? That was bad, baby. Real bad.”

“You’re the one who told me to finger my-”

Joel’s hand flies from your waist to your throat, his broad palm pressing against your windpipe while he squeezes either side of your neck with his thumb and fingers. Heat surges down your spine and settles in your lower abdomen, your aching sex throbbing pathetically in response.

“Don’t you try to fuckin’ spin this on me, sweetheart” Joel snarls.

Maybe he meant to strike fear in you, maybe try to teach you a lesson. But it’s exactly what you want. Joel knows it too – you can tell by the slight smirk that tugs at the corner of his lips in response to your small, breathless gasp.

“Was just trying to be nice to you” he starts, his voice so low at the point you doubt you’d be able to hear him from any further away. “Try to take you out to a nice restaurant to celebrate and that’s how you repay me? Playin’ with me like that under the table and then actin’ like a spoiled brat all the way home?”

You both know he’s playing up his part. These were all minor infractions at best. Both of you knew that. You had been in this position for much, much worse behavior. But Joel isn’t dumb, and he’s well aware of what you want - to be tossed around a little, roughened up and broken down until you’re a squirming mess. And who is he to deny you of that?

You chew on your lip before muttering a small “M’sorry daddy”

Joel’s eyes narrow even more, the hand on your throat tightening slightly as your carefully chosen words have the exact intended effects on him.

“No, you ain’t” Joel growls. “But you will be. Get on your fuckin’ knees.”

He drops the hand from your throat and takes a step back. You exhale the breath you were holding, and you stare at him as his hands fall to his belt. Just the thought of having him in your mouth has you nearly drooling.

But you’re not done yet.

“No” you say plainly, crossing your arms over your chest once again.

Joel’s hands freeze on his belt, his eyes burning holes into you as you stare right back, not moving an inch from where you’re standing.

He raises one eyebrow slightly as if to say I hope I didn’t hear what I just heard but you remain silent and motionless. After a few long moments of complete silence, Joel chuckles softly, his hands falling to his sides in defeat. He gives you one more look and then shakes his head before turning around and heading towards the bedroom.

You’re about to call after him, ask him where he’s going, but his earlier threat of the paddle floats through your mind once again. That has you panicking nearly instantly.

You watch in disbelief as he disappears up the stairs. Your legs feel as though they’re stuck in wet concrete, and it takes a few seconds to coordinate your mind and body to get you to move. You scamper after him, a cold sweat tingling on the back of your neck as you head towards the bedroom.

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed when you walk in, in the middle of untying his shoes. You stand in front of him, arms behind your back and patiently wait for him to toe his shoes off.

He kicks them to the side then looks up at you with a heavy sigh, like your behavior is causing him physical pain. You offer him a meek smile as he rests his palms behind him on the mattress and leans back, his eyes raking over your body as he does so.

He doesn’t say anything, which you take as an invitation.

You move to climb into his lap. He doesn’t reprimand you, but he doesn’t move to hold you either.

You sit on your knees, your legs straddling his. You can feel him through his pants and your soaked panties, still hard as diamonds. That’s a good sign at least.

“M’sorry, daddy” you say again, much more sincerely this time. You bring your hands up to fiddle with the collar of his shirt, avoiding his eyes as you wait for a response that never comes.

“Just wanted to play” you confess quietly. Joel still doesn't say anything, but his eyes follow your hands as you start toying with the buttons of his shirt.

“And you just looked so handsome tonight” you continue, undoing the first button. You wait again. Still no response.

“Thank you for taking me out” you say as you undo the next button.

“And for dressing me up”

Another button.

“Making me feel so beautiful”

And another.

You undo the last button then push away both sides so that his whole torso is on display for you. You stare for a second, fixated on the steady rise and fall of his broad chest, the soft curve of his tummy, and the trail of hair disappearing under the waistband of his pants.

He remains silent still as you place your hands on his abdomen and slowly slide them up to his shoulders before crossing your arms behind his neck. Finally, you drag your eyes up and look at him through your lashes. His gaze is soft and much warmer than you were expecting.

“Promise I’ll be good.” you say, barely above a whisper.

He gives you a half smile and brings a hand up to cup your cheek, his thumb rubbing across your bottom lip.

“You want daddy to make you feel good? Want me to fuck you til you fuckin’ stupid” Joel asks, tilting his head to the side acting like he doesn’t know the answer.

You nod vigorously and poke your tongue out to lick at the tip of his thumb, just for good measure.

“Thought so” Joel says as he pushes his thumb past your lips. You suck on it eagerly and let him press down on your tongue, your clit twitching with desperate need.

“Then why don’t you show daddy how sorry you are, and I might reconsider gettin’ the paddle out.”

You immediately pull off his thumb and sink to your knees without any further instruction. You reach for his belt, deft fingers unbuckling the belt that you’ve undone so many times before, his button and zipper following soon after.

He stops you there and moves to stand up. You sit back on your knees with your hands on your thighs and watch as he quickly shucks off his shirt, tossing it somewhere behind him. You chew on your lip as he pulls down the waistband of his pants and boxers, his cock bobbing heavily as he steps out of them.

Your completely transfixed by it, the veins running along the length, the redden head and the drops of precum leaking from the slit. You don’t even realize you’re staring until he slides a finger under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him.

“Turn around” he instructs simply.

You have no reason to disobey at this point, so you do as you’re told, turning in the small space between Joel’s leg and the edge of the bed. He takes another step forward, backing you up into the side of the mattress.

“S’this what you wanted, baby?” he coos as he wraps a hand around himself.

“Yes, daddy. Always want it” you respond. You look up at him through your lashes, batting them for added effect.

“Yeah, I know you do” he rasps, taking another small step forward. He rests the head of his cock on your bottom lip, smearing precum. You dart your tongue out to lick it up.

He drags the tip of his cock from your lips to your cheek, smearing more precum on your skin and giving you a few light smacks for good measure.

It’s degrading, and should be humiliating, but it just makes your head spin, the fire in your stomach rapidly growing as you open your mouth for him, giving him silent permission to use you however he pleases.

He groans softly as he pushes past your lips, sinking into the wet heat of your mouth. He’s only halfway in when you gag around him, tears already pricking at your waterline.

“Oh, you know you can take it deeper than that, angel”

He places both hands on the back of your head, gently forcing you down the rest of his length. You let him, focusing on breathing through your nose as rolls his hips forward until he’s buried in your throat. You gag again once he’s all the way in, but he keeps your head in place, holding you there for a few more seconds, groaning as your throat convulses around him

“Yeah, that’s it, baby. Got that throat fuckin’ trained”

He pulls out, allows you to take a gulp of air before he’s shoving back in again. His hips quickly settle into a steady rhythm, his cock nudging the back of your throat with every thrust. You brace yourself with one hand on his thigh and you can feel the muscles working under your palm.

“Spoiled little brat just needed daddy to fuck her throat, huh?”

You hum around him in response, reveling in the feeling of his cock twitching against your tongue. He continues to fuck your face, completely unconcerned with the tears rolling down your cheeks and the spit leaking out of the corners of your mouth. He moves one hand from your head to your throat, his palm splaying across your windpipe. He tightens his grip just slightly, pushing against the bulge of his head buried deep in your throat.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, thrusting in all the way and staying there. “Love feelin’ myself in that tight little throat”

The fire in your tummy burns with blinding heat at his praise. A dull ache starts to settle in your jaw as salvia slides down your chin and neck, more hot tears spilling over your lash line as you squeeze your eyes shut and try your best not to gag.

“Take it so well” Joel pants as he starts to rock his hips again. “Fuckin’ made to take my cock.”

The lack of air already has you feeling dizzy, and his words are only adding to the feeling. He’s not wrong –with him fucking your face like this, a strong hand on your head and the other wrapped firmly around your throat, it feels like your sole purpose in life is to please him, to be a toy he can use to make himself feel good. And you fucking love it.

After one more strong thrust, he pulls out of your mouth completely. His cock is dripping with your saliva, a string of it connecting his head to your swollen lips.

“Look at you” Joel coos. You look up at him through wet lashes.

“Bein’ so good for me.”

He moves his hand on your throat to your cheek, cupping your jaw as he wipes some of the tears away with his thumb. He then rubs it over your wet, glossy lips, and you already know what he wants next.

“Open” he commands gently, his thumb tugging down on your bottom lip.

You obey immediately, your jaw hanging open and a smile pulls at the corner of your lips. You watch hungrily as he gathers the salvia in his mouth before he bends down slightly. He lets it drip into your awaiting mouth and you hum happily as the liquid hits your tongue.

“Good fuckin’ girl” he rasps before spitting again, this time with more force. A small moan finds its way out of you as you keep your mouth open and let the warm liquid pool on your tongue until he gives you further directions.

“Swallow it.”

You do so happily, and he hums in approval before standing up straight again. He grabs his cock and guides it to your lips again. He allows you to take one deep breath before he’s pushing in again, his fingers now digging into your jaw, his other hand back on your head as he guides your movements.

“Such a slut for it, aren’t ya?”

You nod the best you can with his cock filling your mouth. He holds you steady, giving a few well-measured thrusts down your throat before pulling out again, leaving you coughing mess below him. He looks at you lovingly as you gasp and try to catch your breath, your lips cherry red, matching the color of the rims of your eyes.

“Doin’ okay?” he asks, voice soft and gentle.

You nod again and give him a dazed smile before wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Good girl. Now stand up.”

Joel reaches out to hold your arm as you pull yourself to stand on weak legs, your knees tight and sore from kneeling on the floor. But you couldn’t care less.

He uses both hands to hike up the hem of your dress, making quick work of lifting it up and over your head. He quickly discards it to a forgotten corner of the room before planting a wide, calloused palm square on your chest and pushing you down onto the mattress.

You land on flat on your back against plush mattress, your legs dangling off the edge. Joel reaches for a pillow, and you lift your head so he can slide it underneath. Your skin buzzes as you watch him take his place, standing at the edge of the bed between your legs.

“So fucking pretty” Joel mutters as he smooths a hand down your front from the hollow of your throat to the tops of your thighs, leaving goosebumps in his wake. He plucks at one of the black satin garter straps, letting it snap against your skin. It barely stings and you giggle and wiggle your hips in pure excitement.

Your hungry eyes rake down his body before settling on his cock again, shiny from your spit as it bobs heavily between his legs.

He starts working on undoing the clasps of the straps without preamble, letting you know that he’s not in the mood to take things slow, which you appreciate greatly.

He has all four straps undone in a matter of seconds and tugs at the belt. You lift your hips, helping him to slide it down your hips and legs. The speed and carelessness he exerts as he pulls the fabric off your body is a stark contrast from how concentrated he was while dressing you in it just a few hours ago.

With the belt out the way, he cups your pussy in his hand. The heel of his hand presses against your swollen clit through the delicate fabric of your thong, his fingers pressing firmly against the damp spot that’s been there since before you left the house.

You whine, a high-pitched sound from the back of your throat. Joels eyes flick up from between your legs to your face, a wicked smirk curling on his lips.

“Such a needy little pussy” he says darkly, pressing his hand further against your core. You roll your hips up and grind against his hand, chasing after the friction you’ve been craving all evening.

But he immediately removes his hand and gives you firm smack instead. You yelp at the sensation, your clit tingling and pulsing.

“Wanna hear you beg for it.”

He drags his fingertips along on the edges of your panties, his touch featherlight and torturously slow. There’s a small part of you that wants to say no, that wants to argue with him, push him further, just to see what would happen.

But you’re 10 levels above desperate for his touch.

“Please daddy, w-want it so bad”

Joel clicks his tongue and lands another light slap to your clothed pussy. You bite back another yelp and will your hips to stay still.

“You know you can do better than that. Try again, tell daddy exactly what you want”

You squeeze your eyes shut, well beyond frustrated at this point. You suck in a deep, steadying breath and exhale is slowly before opening your eyes again to meet his gaze. His eyes are dark, and his jaw is tight as he looks back at you.

“Want you to fuck me, want you so deep inside me that I can barely breathe, want you to be rough with me, make sure I can feel it for days, please daddy please. I promise I’ll be good, just – please I ne-”

You cut yourself off when Joel digs his fingers into the lace of your thong, the sound of tearing fabric hitting your ears as he rips it off of you.

“Joel!” you shout, sitting up on your elbows to look at him.

He doesn't say anything, just grabs your hips and pulls you closer to the edge of the bed. But you’re still stuck on the fact that he just casually ripped off your panties like that.

“Thought those were your favorite pair” you mumble, looking at the discarded fabric sitting on the bed.

“Shut up” Joel grunts as he wraps a hand around the base of his cock, steadying himself and lining up at your dripping entrance. “I’ll buy you more.”

You’re about to say something back, but he slides in before as soon as you open your mouth, effectively taking your breath away.

The stretch of his thick cock inside you as he sinks in all the way in one smooth motion is enough to wipe your brain clean.

He stays still once he’s inside, his tip kissing your cervix. He curses under his breath as your walls spasm around him, already milking him for all that he’s worth.

“Always so fuckin’ tight for me. Perfect little pussy.”

You let him maneuver you into position, one of his hands cupping the back of your knee, lifting your leg up to rest on his shoulder, both of you sighing as the angle pushes him just a bit deeper. He brings your other leg up but keeps it pinned to the bed with a strong hand on your thigh, leaving you spread open just for him.

Without warning, he draws his hips back, sliding nearly all the way out before slamming back in.

You cry out, your hands scrambling for purchase on the duvet. You’ve taken him countless times before. But he’s big. And no matter how wet or turned on you are, without opening you up first on his fingers, your walls are aching and tingling as he forces your body to mold to his.

And it’s exactly what you asked for.

He grinds his pelvis against your clit, his cock bumping into a spot that’s impossibly deep inside of you. You jolt at the sensation and reflexively try to scoot up the bed, your already overwhelmed body trying to get away from the intense feeling.

“Oh, don’t run from it now” Joel growls, grabbing one of your hips and forcing you back down on his cock. “Begged for it all night, so I’m gonna fuckin’ give it to ya”

“S-so much daddy, you’re so– oh fuck. You’re so fucking big” You whimper pathetically, your hands gripping the duvet so tight that your nails are digging into your palms even through the barrier of the fabric.

“I know it’s a lot, angel. But you can take it,” Joel pants. “Can’t you?”

You nod lazily against the pillow as he pulls out again.

“What’s your safeword” he asks, the head of his cock resting just a few inches inside of you, providing you with enough relief to answer.

“Red” you whine.

“Good girl. Do you wanna use it?”

You immediately shake your head

“No.”

“That’s my girl” Joel growls before slamming back in again, knocking the air straight out of your lungs. Your back arches with the feeling as he quickly builds up his pace.

He fucks into you like it’s his last day on earth, fast and rough, just like you begged for. Just like he knows you need. Your whole body feels electrified while moans tumble freely past your lips, your eyes rolling back into your head.

With your eyes closed, you don’t see it, but you do feel Joel’s lips pressing against your ankle that’s resting on his shoulder, lips warm and wet through the sheer fabric of the stocking that he never took off.

“Little pussy is takin’ me so well, angel” Joel mumbles against your ankle “Feel so good wrapped around me, squeezing me like that”

He starts a trail of kisses from your ankle to your knee, his hips not faltering in pace, not even once. The last of the stinging ache melts away as your walls stretch to fully accommodate him. He has an iron grip on your ankle, and his fingers on his other hand dig into the meat of your thigh, creating small purple marks under the smooth skin. The hot coil in your stomach is starting to tighten as you moan incessantly. And of course, Joel notices.

“Get those tits out, angel.”

You whimper underneath him and try your best to follow his instructions. Your arms feel like cinder blocks as you unclench your fists from the duvet and move your hands to your chest. You grab the cups of your bralette and tug them down, letting your breast spill out over the tops.

Joel gives you a few words of praise that you can’t fully process. You already feel delirious, his cock quickly turning you into a useless, needy puddle underneath him.

“Play with ‘em for me.”

You do as your told and cup your breasts, one in each hand before gently tweaking your nipples with your thumb and forefinger. Joel gives you more indistinguishable praise as you let your eyes slip closed again, completely surrendering to the pleasure coursing through your veins.

The hand that Joel has wrapped around your ankle slides down to the back of your thigh, pushing on your leg and forcing your knee into your chest and sending his cock even deeper.

“Ohhh, daddy shit fuckfuckfuckk” you whine as the head of his cock nudges against the spot that only he has ever found over and over again, the same spot he finds every single time.

“There ya go” he whispers as you start to squirm underneath him, your jaw slack and your walls fluttering around him. “You gonna cum, pretty girl? Gonna make a mess on daddy’s cock?”

You nod vigorously but you already know he wants more than that.

“Want–” you try to start, but Joel’s hand landing on your clit steals your breath, a loud moan coming out instead.

“C’mon, baby. Keep goin” Joel urges breathlessly, two of his fingers rubbing tight circles on your clit. “Sound so pretty when you beg. Look at me while you do it.”

You groan and open your eyes again to meet his gaze. His chest is heaving with every breath, muscles flexing deliciously as he fucks you with everything that he has, pounding you further and further into the mattress.

“Please let me cum daddy, M’so close –ah oh my god please let me cum please please please let me.”

“You can cum, angel. Keep those eyes on me and show me how pretty you look when you cum on this cock”

It’s only a few more seconds of him pummeling into you and his fingers drawing expert circles on your clit to send you over the edge.

You lock eyes with him and let out a long, loud moan as your orgasm starts to rip through you, your whole body trembling with pure, white hot bliss. He fucks you through it, on the heels of his own release as you shake underneath him, your warm, wet walls rhythmically clenching and fluttering so perfectly around him.

“Gonna make me cum, honey” Joel grits out, his pace getting more and more uneven.

“Inside” you manage to whine, still riding out the last of your orgasm.

“Yeah, baby, I know. Gonna fill you up so good”

One, two, three more thrusts until you feel his cock pulsing as he starts to spill his load deep inside of you with a loud groan from somewhere deep in his chest. He keeps fucking you, pushing his spend deeper and deeper inside of you until he he’s too sensitive to continue. He buries himself in you as deep as he can and stills.

After a few moments, Joel straightens your legs out on the mattress then pulls out of you, moving off of you and flopping down flat on his back next to you with a heavy sigh.

Labored breaths are the only sound in the room as you both come down. You whole body feels like jell-o, all thoughts moving slowly through your syrupy head. You can’t help but giggle next to him, feeling positively euphoric after getting your brains fucked out of your skull.

Joel turns his head to look at you.

“What’re you laughin’ at?” he asks, a smile quickly spreading on his face. He rolls onto his side and props his head up on his hand. He wraps his other arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him, despite you being dead weight right now.

You look up at him, eyes hooded with a lazy smile. You try to think of something to say but all you can manage is another giggle, which makes Joel chuckle too.

“You’re such a goose” he says, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

“Thought I was a spoiled little brat?”

Joel rolls his eyes and rests his cheek on his hand again, his smile still glued to his face.

“Those aren’t mutually exclusive.”

“So, I’m a spoiled little bratty goose?”

“Mhmm.”

You grin and scoot closer into him.

“That sounds like a lot to handle”

You squeal when he pinches your hip.

“Tell me about it,” Joel sighs, lying his head down on the mattress and wrapping his body around yours. You smile like an idiot with your face squished against his chest, fully satisfied once again.

Thank god you got that promotion.

Thank you for reading I love all sm!!!

#joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #the last of us #tlou fic #joel miller #pedro pascal characters

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maxzinn · 1 month

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AAAAAAA ok hear me out again PLEASE SHSGDHJ

Part 2

Me brain imagining reader being yanqing’s mom… like 200 years younger than jing yuan (i guess) and this is how the found family trope starts to take turn ✨ Mara struck and abominations of Yaoshi ruined the peace held within the alchemy commission, the lively hustle and bustle of healers and vendors were suddenly cut short by the chaos caused by the monsters who did nothing else than to cause harm and wreak havoc.

As the people of the Luofu ran for safety to save themselves... you, a single mother who only wanted to buy vitamins and herbs for your baby boy, got cornered by the abominations of abundance.

Holding your toddler in your arms, you tried to shield him from the fire and hush his cries to atleast bring him a feeling of protection and safety. Slowly stepping back, you hit the wall and coughed as the smoke began to fill your lungs. You tried to cover baby Yanqing's nose but were getting weaker by the minute, the smoke almost suffocating you.

When you collapsed as you sat down, still holding him, Yanqing's cries grew louder as he tried to protect you from the monsters with his wooden toy sword (awwh 😭)

Suddenly a slash of a weapon was heard and the abominations collapsed on the ground. Relieved that you and your little boy would be saved, you tried to thank your savior as you peered through your half-lidded eyes.

Huge stature, fluffy white hair, golden eyes brighter than the sun... you fainted, only hearing the sounds of Yanqing asking the man for help and the said man trying to wake you up as you passed out.

When you wake up in an unfamiliar room and immediately sat up when you remembered Yanqing, but due to your poor condition, you ended up coughing.

"now now, take it easy"

you looked at the source of the voice and saw the general, standing by the door still holding the knob as he seemed like he was just about to enter the room.

"g-general? what's... wait, where is-" as if on cue, a certain little blonde haired boy who was hiding behind the general's legs, peeked to look at you and his eyes lit up once he saw you were awake.

"mommy!" your sweet boy ran towards you and hopped on the bed to embrace you.

you immediately checked him for any injuries or burns when the general interrupted your thoughts.

"the little man is safe, I can assure you that. I had him checked by the healers for any other health issues, thankfully he's alright and unscathed. looks like you were the only one who was in need of help" his golden eyes stares at you as you sighed in relief.

"thank the aeons..." you breathed and patted the top of Yanqing's head, smiling so beautifully. Jing Yuan found the glow of motherhood in you so beautiful and endearing that he found himself interested, chuckling at the sight of you doting on Yanqing.

As you heard his chuckles, you pulled out of your thoughts and remembered that the general is in fact inside the room... in who know's room... with you and your child...

You soon became conscious of your actions when your brain finally registered his presence so you turned your gaze to meet his, but eventually wandered as you couldn't bear to hold your gaze.

"thank you... for taking care of my son" you shyly mumble a little thanks

he laughs as he noticed the change, "relax, you've been quite through a lot maam". his gaze still bore on you, "may I ask for your name?"

you slowly look up to meet his gaze, "y/n... general"

"y/n huh..."

unbeknownst to the both of you, while you and the general were exchanging words and staring at each other's eyes, Yanqing was quietly watching it all unfold... his eyes alternately looking at you and the general in confusion, and made an unbelievable conclusion... right in front of the general so boldly.

"...are you gonna kiss?"

"Yanqing!" you sputtered

should I make a part 2 of this? hmm...

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radio-writes · 2 months

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What is Left of Me Without You?

Synopsis: Your husband didn't love you, not yet at least—that's what he told you. First, he wanted to see just how much you loved him.

Warnings: dubcon, smut, oral - m receiving, sex, abusive relationship, heavy manipulation, gaslighting, some misogyny, angst

Tags: married, one sided romantic love, Alastor x Reader, female!reader, reader is somewhere on the ace spectrum too

MDNI

To everyone in your town, you and your husband were the picture perfect couple.

Alastor, the bright, charming, down-right intoxicating radio host, walking down the street with you, his absolute darling of a wife on his arm.

Smiling, giggling, sharing hushed whispers. It looked as if the two of you were lost in your own lovely little world.

Even behind closed doors, Alastor proved himself to be the perfect gentleman. You never wanted for anything, never grieved, never felt lonely.

If you so much as glanced at something by a storefront, Alastor would have it tied with a bow at the foot of your bed.

If anything caused you grief, or even inconvenienced you the slightest bit, Alastor would have dealt with it by the end of the day.

If you ever felt lonely, well...

You supposed you didn't really have the right to feel lonely. Alastor was always there, wasn't he?

You woke up to the sound of your husband's humming. His smooth voice glided over each note skillfully as you peeled your eyes open.

The sight before you wasn't anything new: the other half of the bed empty and already fixed up.

You turned to sit up, and found Alastor in front of your vanity as he straightened his bowtie. He caught your eye through the reflection, and his smile broadened.

The greater half of New Orleans would probably kill to be in your place right now. Seated in a lavish bedroom, your famous, dapper husband walking to your side of the bed to place a kiss on your hand.

"Well good morning, darling! Don't you look adorable in this state." His sweet words greeted you.

It was there again, that odd feeling that sunk in your gut. What was that?

"Good morning, my dear." You greeted him back, ignoring whatever it was. A tired smile graced your lips as you peered up at him. "Headed to work already?" You asked him.

"Why, of course! Who else would wake up New Orleans and tell all those sleepy bones to shake a leg and hop to work?" He struck a pose, hand on his chest. "Only yours truly, of course!"

His warm chestnut eyes met yours through the lenses of his glasses. You let out a tired, soft laugh as you glanced away to hide the heat that rose to your cheeks.

You adored this man—every single bit of him—so you found it hard not to get flustered over him, even after all this time. Hell, you were still counting your lucky stars that he chose to marry you of all people.

Why? Well, you tried not to ask yourself that.

He'd already given you his answer, hadn't he?

Alastor placed a chaste kiss to your cheek, quickly pulling you out of your thoughts before they could spiral. You looked back at your husband as he said something about having to run off or risk being late.

You remained sat in your bed, smiling and watching with hearts in your eyes as your darling husband waved on his way out of your room.

"Looking forward to what you'll cook up this evening, sweetheart!" Alastor grinned, right before the door shut behind him.

And it was there again.

The gnawing feeling was coming by more and more frequently now. What was it?

Was it actually loneliness? But that would be so silly, wouldn't it?

Your husband didn't love you, but he trusted you. And that should be enough for now.

At least, that's what he said when he proposed.

You and Alastor knew each other for a very long time, and basically all of New Orleans knew you took a very strong liking to him.

Alastor had raised the proposition back then. You remember how he had explained that it would be a good thing for both your sakes. How you'd get to be with someone you loved oh so much, and how convenient it would be for him to finally get marriage out of the way. And even more so with a cherished friend like you!

Sure, you hesitated back then; unsure if you really wanted to marry a man who didn't love you the way you did him. But he sung you praises, he sung you promises.

You were darling, you were beautiful, you were smart, you were kind. How could he not grow to love you in your marriage? How could he resist falling for a such a doll who was offering him her heart?

So you said yes.

Because you loved Alastor with every bit of your heart, but he simply just wasn't ready to love you back yet.

And he was such a lovely man who never failed to shower you with affection. Maybe you were just asking for too much—fretting over such small things—for you to feel upset about waking up without your husband beside you.

And—and he was a radio host, after all. Of course he had to get to work early.

You really didn't need to spare it another second of thought.

No, what you really needed to focus on was how you could help your dear, hardworking husband.

You shook your head and slapped your hands softly against your cheeks. You've got to knock that annoying feeling loose. It was all so pointless.

With a more determined look, you got up from the bed. You neatly fixed the sheets and pillows, taking extra care to make sure every single wrinkle was smoothened out.

You silently ran over the list of tasks you had to do today.

Obviously there's cleaning and making sure the house was in order. It would be a real shame if Alastor came home to an untidy space. He's already out working late for both of you, the least you could do was make sure he had a clean home to rest in.

You ought to make time to drop by the market for some fresh meat to cook up. Alastor would surely be famished after work, right? And your mama always did say that the quickest way to a man's heart was through his stomach.

You could also drop by the tailors and get the hem of one of your Alastor's dress shirts straightened out. He hasn't said anything about it, but he's avoided using that particular one for a while now. You knew the uneven stitches had to be bugging him.

Oh, you really needed to pass by a locksmith, too. That dang lock on the basement door still had not budged no matter what Alastor did, and you just could not find the key anywhere.

You've been waving the issue off for a while now—Alastor was right in saying there's no real rush to it, nothing really important down there, anyway—but it'd be nice to have the extra storage available to you again.

You let out a huffed breath and placed your hands on your waist. You held your head high and ready. "Right. Let's get this show started."

It was a busy day, as it always was for you. The hours ticked by as quickly as loose sand through an open palm.

You didn't have time to feel lonely, not when you were too busy scrubbing with all your might against a particularly stubborn grease stain on your sink.

When the house was finally all neat, you got yourself ready to head out. Hair done, just a touch of make up, and a rather modest dress—at least as modest as Alastor had bought you. That man did lean towards the more finer tastes.

You felt it was a bit much just to do a few errands, but you were the sweet wife of a local personality. You had an image to uphold. You had to make sure you didn't do anything to tarnish your darling husband's reputation.

This was just part of the whole package, you supposed. Nothing that can be done about it.

Heading out into the afternoon sun, you painted on a bright smile for all the kind people that greeted you. Cheery, happy, friendly. Oh, but not too friendly.

Meek, quiet, all prim and proper. The makings of a fine lady worthy of her spot by the dapper radio host's side.

You dropped your husband's shirt off by the tailors first. They seemed to be more than happy to rush your request once you let slip who it belonged to. They promised they could have it ready in just a few hours. You thanked them softly, and noted how they were such jolly workers, laughing even as you left the store.

You dropped by the locksmith before the market, not really wanting to carry out a bunch of raw meat as you went about your day.

The nicely dressed man was a bit—difficult to talk to. He seemed to think you had no idea what a door even was. He had just started explaining how you open a doorknob when you felt your cheeks start to strain from how hard you worked to maintain a smile.

"Oh dear me, would you look at the time," You politely cut him off, pretending to be shocked at how late into the day it was. "I am so sorry, sir, but my husband should be coming home any minute now and I haven't even started on dinner!"

A lie. Alastor always came home late.

The man raised a brow at you in disbelief. Not that he didn't buy your act, but more judgmental that a woman would be so careless as to forget to take care of her spouse.

You ignore the look he gave you, keeping your shy smile on. "Maybe you could just sell me the tools. I could get my husband to work on it."

"Sure thing, sweetheart," The man shrugged. "I'll get what you need in a split, so you can run back and make a quick stew at the very least."

He ended up selling you the tools, along with a bunch of other needless things, with the assurance that your husband would definitely need them all.

You bit your tongue as you smiled and thanked him.

Why on earth would you need a box of nails and a bottle of glue to split a lock open?

But you really did not have it in you to stand in that shop any longer.

Besides, how would it look if the papers caught whiff of Alastor's sweet little wife yelling and lecturing a local shop keeper.

You couldn't burden your husband like that.

You hurriedly rushed to the market before they could close, buying the best cut of meat they still had at this hour, before you made your way back to the tailors to check on the progress.

The workers snickered as you entered, but you really didn't think much of it until they pulled out the dress shirt you dropped off.

A large, nasty stain of lord-knows-what sat right at the center of what used to be its pristine white color.

Your smile strained badly. "Oh dear, what on earth happened?" You asked with feigned worry. You already knew what happened.

"Afraid we spilled a bit of lunch on it, sweetie." One of the ladies explained, her companions giggling behind her. "Couldn't be avoided, unfortunately."

You felt your eye twitch.

"I'm sure a lovely doll like you could find a way to fix it. Wouldn't want that hotty husband of yours to leave your pretty face for something like this, would ya?" She went on.

"You better run, though. I heard the cleaners were planning on closing up early today." Another bitch woman spoke up.

Had you been any less horrified at your husband's ruined shirt, you would have been fuming.

You quickly took the shirt and paid, rushing out before you did anything stupid. Like cry.

Oh Alastor's rivals would have a field day twisting a story like that.

As you left the ladies called out "We did straighten the hem, darling!" And a more snarky, muttered comment, "Although, you'd think someone as handsome as Alastor could find a gal that could do something that simple herself."

The walk back home was probably the most tiring part of it all. Having to keep your back straight, your smile lovely, your voice friendly. Never letting the kind people know anything was wrong.

Because you knew those kind people were all itching to have any reason to gossip about your husband.

And you just couldn't have that.

Your shoulders finally sagged as you closed the door to your house. Your smile dropped immediately as you leaned against the door in exhaustion.

You stuffed the ruined shirt in your bag, thinking maybe your can throw it out later on, but you just knew Alastor would notice it was missing. He won't be happy with you, that's for sure.

Never mind that you've bent over backwards for the better half of a year to cater to him. Never mind that you've hidden all your faults under the rug. Never mind that you've been absolutely devoted to him even before your marriage.

You had to be perfect.

But you weren't. And you knew that. It seemed every other woman in New Orleans knew that. And now with the ruined shirt, Alastor would know that too.

He'll see you as less.

It's there again, that's stupid heavy feeling in your gut. Whatever it was.

You sighed in defeat. If you couldn't get the shirt fixed, maybe you could at least make sure he had a good meal to come home to? Maybe that could make him overlook your faults this time.

You burnt it. Somehow,—despite normally being an amazing cook every other time besides tonight—you managed to burn dinner.

You put your hands over your face, groaning in frustration, just absolutely exasperated. Why on earth was everything going wrong today. Why couldn't you just do one thing right? Why couldn't you just be of some help to Alastor? Why—

You lifted your face from your hands, attempting to slow your breathing. Your eyes glanced around your ruined kitchen and your burnt dinner, and that stupid shirt peaking out of your bag, and...the door to the basement?

Right! Maybe there could still be one thing you could do right today.

You wiped your hands over your apron, immediately scrambling for the tools you bought earlier today.

While you weren't the smartest when it came to these things, surely you could figure something out to try to loosen the lock.

You've watched your gentle husband fiddle around with the lock many times before, never opting to break the thing. You suspected he didn't want to look in any way violent in front of you, but you always thought it was so needlessly complicated.

You grabbed a hammer from the pile of junk and made your way towards the basement door. You tested the lock's strength with a few, rather light, taps of the hammer head. It didn't feel that sturdy. You thought you could definitely break it with a bit of force on your end.

You gripped the handle with both hands and brought the hammer down on it.

Once. The sound of metals clashing echoed in your house

Twice. You had to do at least this today.

Thrice. You can't be useless to him.

You smashed the hammer down onto the lock one more time and the battered thing fell to floor.

Your eyes widened, lips spreading into grin out of relief.

Thank heavens, you managed something today. Alastor would be glad to hear this, at least.

You bent over, picking up the fallen lock from the floor.

A weight pressed against you from behind.

Startled out of your wit, you stood up straight, just in time for whoever it was to flatten your body right against the basement door.

"What a lovely sight that was." You hear Alastor's voice right by your ear.

His head found home where your shoulder and head met. His nose trailed up against your skin as he breathed you in.

A gasp escaped your parted lips as you feel his hands squeeze the flesh of your hips harshly.

"Alastor?" You were partly dazed, confused what was happening.

His hips pressed against yours at the sound of his name from your mouth, and you all but recoil.

Alastor was rarely handsy, and that was fine by you. You actually realized that you much preferred it that way. Alastor's love being the only thing you ever really wanted from him.

Moments like these have always caught you off guard.

Because your husband knew that. He knew you weren't comfortable with being intimate. He knew you'd much rather have him just sit by you. He knew you weren't one to jump his bones.

And Alastor normally respected that.

"What a naughty little doll you are," Alastor's breath hot against your skin. "Welcoming a man home all bent over, presenting yourself." He whispered.

Your eyes widened, attempting to turn to face him, but his body kept yours pinned to the door.

"Baby, no. I," Your breathing had gone a bit ragged. "I was just picking up this lock here."

You raised your hand, showing the broken, battered lock in your grip. "I finally managed to open the stubborn thing." You tried to smile up at him over your shoulder, expecting praise.

Alastor's eyes stayed on the lock for a second too long you think, before his hand circled your wrist and yanked your arm behind your back. His swift hands made your other arm follow after it immediately.

The ache in your limbs, the grip he had on you, the shock of it all made the lock tumble right out of your grasp.

Alastor let out a hum of disappointment. "That's a real shame, sweetheart. I thought you were finally opening up to me." He said, his voice still filled with mirth. "Could have really used it tonight, too."

You felt him ground his hips against your clothed ass. His half hard cock evident against you.

He used one hand to keep your arms where they were, the other made its way to caress up your torso. His large palm trailing past your breasts, ending up by your soft cheeks.

Contrasting with the ones that held you still, his fingers were gentle against your face. His fingertips barely ghosted over your skin.

"I had a rather rough day at work, you see. Could you blame a man for wanting a little comfort from his wife?" He whispered.

The words hung in the air. Your lips unable to deny him, but unable to agree all the same.

A heartbeat passes, and suddenly you were free. Alastor stepped back from you, your body relaxing at the absence of his towering figure.

"But what kind of ruffian would I be to force a lady to do that against her will," Alastor said, his tone rather carefree.

You turned around to finally face him, only to see him looking else where.

Your eyes followed his line of sight and you noticed the ruined shirt, pulled out of the bag, sitting right next to a burnt dinner, all framed by a horribly messy kitchen.

Alastor looked back at you, his charming smile ever present. "I'm sure you excel at all the other aspects of being a wife, anyway." He says, as if he hadn't just seen the failure you've made of your day.

He began to walk away, and your hand reached out before you could even think. Almost as if on reflex. Almost as if it's what you had to do.

You meekly pulled him back. His eyes watched you, almost expectantly, as you cupped your palms against his cheeks, and invited him down to meet you.

Your lips brushed chastely against his as he let out a satisfied hum.

You pulled away just enough to speak, your eyes looking up at him as your breaths mixed. "What...what can I do for you, my love?"

Alastor's smile stretched, his lips dipping down to meet yours again for a second time. His hand quickly found its way to the small of your back, heavy as he ushered you out of the kitchen.

"I think that's better discussed in the bedroom, darling." He purred against your ear.

You swallowed thickly against your tightening throat.

Normally Alastor's hands on you were cherished, but you wanted nothing more than to squirm away from his hold right then. You knew where this was heading, but it just was not something you ever found appealing.

But you could do it for Alastor, right? You have done it for him before, anyway.

Even if you didn't particularly enjoy it, at least you'd be satisfying your husband. At least you'd be close to him. At least you'd be useful to him.

Alastor, like the chivalrous gentleman he is, opened the door of your bedroom for you as he lead you in. You heard the click of the lock behind you, right before you were quickly tossed onto your bed.

You squealed as your felt your body bounce against the soft sheets. Your dress bunched up your thighs as you adjusted your legs.

Alastor stood at the foot of your bed, working his bowtie off with nimble fingers. "Darling, why so tense? It's only me." He says, his voice almost soothing.

But it was there again. That annoying feeling. It seems heavier than ever.

Was it really loneliness?

How could you even be lonely now, when the man you love was waiting to mount you.

"I'm just nervous, that's all, darling," You managed to say honestly. "It hurt quite a bit last time."

Your eyes watched closely as Alastor's hand made quick work of the buttons in his vest, shrugging it off and placing his knee on the bed. His eyes trained on your reactions all the while, enjoying the flicker of uncertainty on your face as you bit your lip.

"I know a way we can ease that," He said. He reached out his hand to you, inviting you to take it.

Your shaky hand didn't hesitate. Because you'd do anything for this man.

You loved Alastor, so much, with your whole body, but he seemed to revel a bit too much in that knowledge.

He knew you could never deny him. So when your hand was in his, he pulled you closer, watching with delight as you awkwardly crawled to the end of your bed.

"Care for a box lunch, darling? It'd hurt less if we're a lot more slick." Alastor teased, chuckling as you looked at him with confusion.

The gears seemed to click in your head when one of his hand rested on your hair, the other worked his belt off.

"Oh," Was pretty much all you managed to squeak out. It was definitely not what you expected.

You hadn't noticed that you tried to pull away until Alastor applied a bit more pressure on your scalp to keep you still.

He pulled his heavy cock free from its confines. He ran his hand over it, lazily pumping the hardening member in his palm as his gaze was transfixed on you.

Your wide eyes watched every movement of his hand. Panicked, you seemed. Not unlike many panicked does he's shot down in the past.

Not unlike many panicked other things he's felt lose life under his hands.

"Something wrong?" Alastor mused, head tilting as he watched you flinch at the sight of his dick twitching.

Your eyes finally pulled away from your husband's groin, looking up to meet the man's lidded gaze behind his glasses. "We haven't really tried that before and," You bit your lip, unsure on how to proceed. "It just seems a bit deviant."

"Well then it's lucky we're both in such safe company then, isn't it?" The hand in your hair loosened it's grip, opting to softly comb through your hair. The slight tension in your shoulders melted away. "I've been rather curious about what all fuss was about, didn't really have a partner I trusted enough before to try, though."

Your breath caught in your throat at his words. He saw how bad you messed up today, didn't he? He saw how miserably you failed at the simplest of tasks. But he still trusted you? He still trusted you enough to do something as unorthodox as this?

"I suppose I've been rather curious about it myself." You smiled up at him nervously, your hand reached out by your own choice to hold his hefty cock in your palm.

You were lying.

He knew you were lying and he loved it.

"Then open up, my dear." You heard him say, gently guiding your head closer to his crotch.

You decided looking up at your husband was easier than watching your own hand pleasure his shaft. You kept his gaze as you parted your lips, letting your soft tongue meet the skin of his head before wrapping your lips around it.

There was a rather salty taste in your mouth, a bit of his precum leaking onto your tongue. You tried not to cringe at the taste, choosing instead to focus on the way Alastor's brows furrowed when you took more of him into your warm, obedient mouth.

"How do I taste, darling?" He teased, knowing you couldn't answer.

He looked down at you expectantly. Not knowing what else you could do, you began to slowly bob your head, keeping your lips wrapped around his shaft.

You took your time, slowly letting more of him past your lips each time you sank your head back down. Eyes trained on your husband's face, part of you wondering if he'd praise you if you did a well enough job. But it seemed your efforts offered far too little friction for Alastor's patience.

His hips started moving against your face. Softly at first, but he soon began to push at your head to meet his thrusts.

The head of his hard cock nudged your throat and you choked. Your hands immediately went to his hips, nails digging in with how hard you held onto him.

Tears forms in your eyes as you looked up at your husband, and your heart immediately filled with panic when you were met with a look of disappointment.

"Hmm. Seems this might have been too much for you to handle." He sighed, finally pulling you off his dick.

A string of saliva stayed between the head of his cock and your lips as you coughed and gasped for air.

But even as your jaw throbbed, you went to reach your hand out and tried to lean back in towards his dick. "No, no. I can do it, I promise," You said hurriedly.

"There's no need to force yourself, my darling wife," Alastor tutted, pushing you back by your shoulder, stopping you from getting another chance to prove yourself. "We can't help that you have your limits."

"I just need practice." You swore, looking up at your husband. You hated that you disappointed him again.

His fingers reach out to tilt your chin up, making space for his lips at your neck as he slowly pushed you back into the bed with his own body.

"If you ask nicely enough, I'm sure we can have you try again another time," Alastor said softly, as if granting you such a troublesome request.

The back of your head softly met your pillows as Alastor nudged your legs apart with his knee.

He slotted himself between your legs, grinding his slick cock impatiently against your panties. His groan was practically breathed into your ear.

You wanted to hear more of it. While you weren't particularly eager for sex, you were starved for your husband's praises. And if this is what it took then so be it.

You bucked your hips up to remove your underwear, your groin meeting his lazy thrusts as you did.

"And here I was beginning to think you didn't want me." Alastor jested as he parted from your neck to help you rid yourself of your underwear. His long fingers slid the flimsy thing down one leg and let it stay on the other.

"There probably isn't a woman in this apple that doesn't want you, my love." You half-joked, but your soft laugh abruptly ended in a gasp.

Alastor pressed the thick head of his cock at your entrance, teasingly pushing in just the smallest bit. "You're most likely right," He said, watching as your eyes closed at his trespass. "But you are the only one lucky enough to have me."

And you should know it.

Your back arched as your husband pushed past the tight hole of your entrance. What little resistance your walls made barely bothered him as his throbbing head forced your walls apart.

His hands dug into the sheets by your body. The smooth covers wrinkling in his grip as he strained to stay still.

"This alright for you, darling?" He asked, running his thumb softly under your eye to coax you into looking at him.

Your heart fluttered. Even when in such carnal need he cared about your silly little wants. You pry your eyes open to see Alastor peering down at you with a smile.

"I could stay with this much if you need me to." He told you, rocking hips barely moving. The head of his cock nearly slipping out before he pushed back in, just until it disappeared again into your warm walls.

He was being so kind and accommodating, you couldn't bring yourself to be so needlessly selfish.

Your cunt strained to take even just his very tip, but it was so pointless to let something like that get in the way. Your petty little apprehensions shouldn't matter. Not when you're with your husband.

Your lips strained to force a smile. "I think I can take more, my dear."

It was all Alastor really needed to hear. he dragged his dick out of you, letting it slip out. Wanting you to feel how empty you were without him. Before he rammed his hips against yours; sheathing his cock fully in your warm cunt.

"What a gal," Alastor praised. "Loving, kind, and gentle, but takes a cock like she's on the clock in a call house."

Alastor loved the way you keened at his words.

He loved the way you yearned for his touch, even when you both knew it wasn't your game.

He loved the way you worshiped him, always so desperate to please him.

Oh, how he loved how you were always so ready to give him everything.

Alastor loved you, but just not in the way you hoped.

When you woke up the next morning, the view in front of you wasn't anything new.

Alastor's half of the bed was empty. The previously rumpled sheets for the previous night's rendezvous were pristine and smoothened out once more.

It was there again. Whatever that feeling was.

You assumed it's going to be here for a while.

Alastor seemed to have already headed out before you awoke, not that it felt any different from other mornings.

With a sigh you made your bed. Once again going over everything you had to do for the day.

You had to clean—because you always had to clean—but more so now knowing you left quite the mess yesterday. You have to stop by the market once more, maybe look through clothing stores to find a new shirt for Alastor.

You didn't want him upset with you over that after all. While he didn't bring it up, you knew it still likely bothered him.

You made your way to the kitchen, ready to get the day started.

Except something glimmered as you walked by it. Your head turned to its direction, seeing the same padlock you broke the night before in perfect condition—back on the door to the basement.

Your brows furrowed as you approached it. Fingers gingerly examining the cold metal.

But, how could it be back on here? You swore you broke this stubborn thing last night.

From the corner of your eye, you see a note on the counter, immediately recognizing Alastor's messy handwriting.

Yes, of course. He must have replaced the old one and fixed whatever damaged you did on the door while you were asleep. That would easily explain it.

You picked up the note, smiling softly to yourself at how silly it was to be confused.

It was a brilliant bash, my darling, but it seems this lock is just much too sturdy :(

Don't fret! I'll find a way to open it eventually! Do try to stay away from the tools though, dear. We wouldn't want you hurting your soft delicate hands!

Yours, Alastor

P.S.

I'd prefer a little less char on the meat this time! Haha!

You tried to reread the note several times, wondering if your husband was pulling your leg again.

You broke this lock, you knew you did.

You swung a hammer at it thrice and it broke.

Thrice? Or was it four times?

Whatever, the count didn't matter.

Or did it?

You remained where you stood, confused at what to believe. The note still clutched in your hands.

Did you really break the lock last night? Or were you just so desperate to get something right that your fooled yourself into thinking that?

If you broke the lock then why was it still there now? Why would your darling husband tell you otherwise?

The only reasonable conclusion was that you didn't.

Surely, that made sense, right?

Your eyes stared at the note. Alastor's name seemingly bright against everything else.

No other possibility made sense. Besides, if Alastor trusted you enough to marry you, it only made sense to return that privilege.

Right.

Your eyes lifted from the note, to the kitchen in front of you. The mess you made still loud and present and ugly.

There was no use standing there fretting over such a silly, pointless, thing. Not when you had more pressing matters to attend to.

Who really cares about a dumb little lock, anyway? Didn't you have such a long list of tasks to do today?

Like proving your worth

To yourself

To the world

To your husband.

Part 1 of 2 I hadn't intended for this fic to run as long as it did, and the best part was yet to come. It would have taken ages to get this out if I didn't cut it into half. Anyway, Read part 2 of 2 here!

#tw: dubcon #tw: manipulation #tw: gaslighting #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor x reader #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x reader smut #alastor smut #vien writes #I googled 30s dirty talk and I just could not use any of them with a straight face so I made my own renditions to make them more palatable #do not come for my ass for the wrong use of old timey linggo in this one please #don't come for me for my slow writing either

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goodstuffhappenedtoday · 8 months

Text

Dog repeatedly escapes Up North shelter, sneaks into nursing home

An abused stray mutt kept trying to move himself into a senior care facility. So the nurses there had to figure out what to do about him.

He’d had enough of being at the animal shelter, so Scout the dog climbed over one tall fence and then another, crossed a busy highway in the darkness, entered the automatic doors of a nursing home down the road, walked unnoticed into the lobby, hopped onto a couch, curled into a ball and quietly went to sleep for the night. An astonished nurse there found him the next morning. She called Antrim County Animal Control, whose shelter happens to be just down the road. And they discovered that he'd escaped from there the night before. Scout was a stray mutt. He had no identity, no history. The shelter staff gave him his new name, but otherwise they knew nothing about him, though they noticed he had the distinct demeanor of an abused dog. Somebody apparently once shot him too, with BBs or birdshot, because his jowl still had some kind of round pellets embedded in it. You couldn’t see them, but you could feel them if he let you touch him. The sheriff came and took him back to the shelter.

But a few nights later there was Scout, back on that same couch in the nursing home lobby. Somehow he again scaled a 10-foot chain-link fence, then a 6-foot solid privacy fence, crossed a highway without getting run over, entered the front door unnoticed, jumped onto the same couch as before and made himself at home for the night. A call was placed again. He was brought back to the shelter again. Just a couple of nights after that, Scout was back on the couch for the third time. And the staff had a decision to make.

Lost and found

Meadow Brook Medical Care Facility is a long-term medical care residence about an hour northeast of Traverse City. It cares mostly for seniors, some of whom have terminal illnesses, or dementia, or simply nowhere else to go or nobody to look after them. There are 82 beds split between several smaller households. For some reason, this is the place Scout the dog decided to make his home. “I’m a person who looks at outward signs, and if it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be,” said Marna Robertson, 57, the nursing home’s administrator. “He did that one time, two times, three times, and obviously that’s something that you should pay attention to. And I asked the staff, ‘Well, he wants to be here. Would anybody like to have a dog?’”

The staff formally adopted him. Suddenly the nursing home had its own pet. And the residents were delighted. “I think it reminds them of being home,” said Rhonda Thomczak, 49, the administrative assistant at Glacier Hill, the household where Scout was first discovered. “When you’re home you have your pets, and you don’t get to have that here. Having a dog around makes it feel like home.”

#good stuff #dog

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leossmoonn · 6 months

Note

imagine mike waking up in the middle of the night of his day off because reader got riled up by a dream and now shes grinding on him and kissing his neck trying to wake him up

18+ below the cut (includes somnophilia, dub con)

usually if you had a sex dream, you’d either use your vibrator or just sleep it off. but tonight you had mike and you wanted to take full advantage of that.

you’re embarrassingly wet and needy. you’ve been this way from the moment he told you he had the night off. you stayed the night in, relaxing and catching up on some episodes of your favorite tv show. sex crossed your mind a few times, but mike was so tired, you knew he needed the rest. but you two haven’t had sex in, let’s be honest, a few weeks. the moment you two got into bed, your mind started racing. you left him alone, wanting him to get sleep, but you just couldn’t take it anymore.

your hands tremble as you sit up in the bed, peering over at mike who appears to be sleeping soundly. his lips are parted, soft snores coming from the back of his throat. your squeeze your thighs together, your cunt throbbing as you imagine his mouth on you. one of his arm is under his pillow, the other reached out in the middle of the bed. it had been in your hip most of the night, not helping the dirty thoughts that crept into your mind.

you flip to your side so you’re now facing him. you curl up into him and his arm wraps around you, pulling you in. his hand is resting on the small of your back, making your body feel all tingly and warm. you place your hand on his chest, fisting his t shirt in your hand. you wrap your leg around him, placing yourself so you’re resting against his thigh.

“mike?” you whisper. you watch his eyes flutter. you’re thankful he’s not a heavy sleeper. you start to grind yourself on his bare thigh, your panties catching your clit. you stifle a moan, pressing your face into his pillow. god, you feel so pathetic, but you’ve been aching for him for what seems like centuries.

his hand that’s under his pillow slides down and wraps around the back of your thigh. you peek at his face. he’s still asleep it seems. his fingers are so close to your pussy, you feel like you’re going to explode.

“mike,” you say again now in a whimper. you whine helplessly, your hand tugging on his shirt weakly. your lips come up to his nose and you peck the side of it, trailing down to his cheekbones. “wake up, mike, please,” you beg. your kisses are sloppy, leaving a trail of saliva from his mouth to his jawline.

“mmmm,” he stirs. his eyes are fluttering now. you can’t help but move faster against him. “wake up, i need you mike,” you whisper.

he doesn’t say anything. his hand moves up to your hips and he scoots down the bed, placing you against his cock. it’s hard and his boxers are a little damp. you whine loudly and he slaps a hand over your mouth. he’s definitely awake now.

“be quiet if you want to come,” he grumbles.

butterflies flutter in your tummy and you nod, screwing your eyes shut and biting your lip in attempt to stay silent. your shirt begins to ride up and he latches onto your breast, sucking on your nipple.

“mikey,” you whine against his hand. he lets out a small groan, his hand that’s on your waist moving to your ass as squeezing the flesh.

you bury your face in the pillow as you come. he comes shortly after and you feel it pool on your lower tummy. you can’t help but sign in relief.

mike gets up and to clean himself off, changing underwear and hopping back into bed. he looks at you with a little teasing grin and you shy away.

“sorry,” you say. he shakes his head, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you close. “don’t say sorry. did you get what you wanted?”

you nod with a small smile. he begins to kiss your neck and his hands slip under your shirt. he trails down your stomach, lining kisses along the seems of your panties.

“mind if i give you something else?” he asks. without a word, you spread your legs as an invitation.

#mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x reader smut #mike schmidt smut

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teasteeper · 4 months

Text

18+ minors dni, f!reader, pinv, toxic wonu

ex bf!fuckbuddy!wonwoo who's the reason you can't get into a new relationship :c every time you start seeing someone new, it isn't long before he’s hitting you up

he'll ask you to hop on discord and play a video game together, his long legs spread as he sits in his desk chair, the bright monitor reflected in his glasses. you get on your pc and call him, kicking yourself when you feel heat pooling in your tummy when his deep voice comes through your headphones

you always tell yourself the next time will be different, but every time your game ends up forgotten, your conversation going in a different direction. it's usually wonwoo's fault, saying something like, "your voice sounds really cute", "wish you were here, haven't seen you in a while"

he had seen your recent instagram post, a cute blurry candid of you and your new bf kissing. it affected him more than he expected, but that was always the case when he saw that you started dating someone new

it's so frustrating because he broke up with you, and now he would take advantage of the hope you held deep down of him being ready for a relationship someday, luring you back to him each time you got with somebody else

"wonwoo.. you can't seriously be jealous"

"of course i'm not, i just feel like we should talk, that's all"

he would offer to uber you to his apartment, and that foolish hope you held would make you accept, even if it was 2am. each time you stupidly convinced yourself that this could be it, this could be the time he's finally ready to make the commitment, but the only thing he's committed to is making sure that his cock is the only one you take

he would talk to you so sweetly once you got to his place, "how are you so pretty, baby?", "i missed you", "don't want you to be anyone else's girl", but it's all just a means to fuck

he fucks you so hard and deep on his bed, he had almost forgotten how warm and tight you were, and how cute you sounded when you whined and panted beneath him. his eyes flutter shut and his head rolls back at the feeling when he pushes his tip through your slick and puffy lips, trying not to ram the entirety of his long cock inside you all at once

you can't control the way your hips wiggle and buck up to try and feel him deeper in your cunt. the combination of guilt and desperation causes tears to roll down your flushed cheeks, thoughts of your boyfriend literally being fucked out of your mind when wonwoo's thrusts grow faster, his long fingers gripping your hips so tight while the other hand is on the bed beside your head to prop himself up, gritting his teeth at the feeling of you squeezing him

"you haven't fucked him yet, have you, baby? feels like you're molded to my cock"

your orgasm pulses through your tight cunt, squeezing wonwoo’s thick cock so nicely, bringing him to pull out and spurt his warm cum on your tummy. he takes a second to catch his breath, panting into the crook of your neck, one of his big hands rubbing and squeezing the flesh of your thigh

when he leaves the room to get a towel to clean you up, you throw your arm out and grab around for your phone, sniffling and wiping your tear stained cheeks as you text your bf that it’s over between you

#wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #seventeen #svt #wonwoo smut #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x you #seventeen smut #svt smut #seventeen hard thoughts #seventeen hard hours #svt hard thoughts #mine

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yoon-kooks · 1 year

Text

on mute | jjk

🦈pairing: fuckboy!gamer!jjk x reader

🦈genre: friends to lovers, office!au, coworker!au, smut, fluff

🦈summary: You always assumed your handsome coworker was down to fuck anyone in the office except for you. He always assumed you weren’t interested in a guy like him. And both of you were content with never admitting your feelings… until he unknowingly confides in you in the realms of a certain tactical FPS game.

🦈word count: 10.7k

🦈warnings: mutual pining, shooter game references, soft fuckboy vibes, fingering, doggy style, protected sex bc bro aint taking no chances🤠

a/n: i wasnt planning on including smut so thats a bonus✨

You press a hand to your mouth to suppress a yawn as the department meeting finally comes to an end. Your boss had gone over the schedule for next quarter, alluded to a few new projects, and gave a few shoutouts to people on your team who apparently “went the extra mile” this week. You couldn’t care less about being acknowledged for your work, but it does kind of irk you that Jeon Jungkook got a shoutout when you’ve never seen him do extra work in the office. All he’s done this week is take your pretty lady boss out to lunch. If that’s considered extra work, you suppose Jungkook works the hardest. After all, he’s the type to make time for anyone he wants to sleep with aka everyone in the office except for you.

As you scoot your chair out, you back into something very solid. Surely no one is dumb enough to stand right behind your chair when they know how eager everyone is to get out of here for the weekend. But when you turn around, you know exactly who it is without even seeing his face—Employee of the Week Jeon Jungkook.

You stare at the back of his shoulders in that mustard button-down, and it occurs to you that it was his nice ass that you’d bumped into. He didn’t even stumble forward from the impact or at least step aside so you can leave like everyone else. You just want to get home, soak in a nice hot bubble bath, and play a few games with your calico all curled up in your lap—that’s the ideal Friday night that Jeon Jungkook is keeping you from.

“Excuse me, kind sir,” you say as your nude acrylics tap the armrest.

The boy turns around with fake astonishment. And a handsome smile. “Oh, Y/N, I didn’t know you were still here.”

“I mean, yeah, I’d be gone too if someone wasn’t blocking my way out.” In the year that you’ve been on the same team as Jungkook, the two of you somehow developed this sarcastic and aggressive way of speaking without actually being mad at each other. Some call it banter, but you dislike the possible romantic implications of that.

“What’s the rush? Got plans tonight?” He still doesn’t move out of the way. You didn’t expect him pinning you against a table in the office to be so underwhelming. You imagine a fuck boy like him could try a little harder, be a little rougher. Not that you’ve ever fantasized about it.

“Yeah, I just bought some cute new lingerie for when I hop into bed with Christina Lauren and my cat.” You leave out the gaming part of your Friday night plans. If he knew you played the same game as him, he’d probably use it against you somehow.

“Who’s Christina Lauren?” he asks. You love the thought of him imagining you in lingerie with some mystery woman. Or maybe that’d just encourage a threesome.

“My cat’s favorite romance writer?” You say it like it should be common sense to know that your cat purrs himself to sleep when you read to him.

“And you’re going to waste your cute new lingerie on reading a Lauren Christina bedtime story to your cat?”

“It’s Christina Lauren, not Lauren Christina.”

“Christina Lauren doesn’t care about your lingerie.” It amuses you how he keeps bringing up the lingerie. You wonder what he’d think if he saw you in that skimpy mesh fabric. It’d probably come as a shock to him considering he’s only ever seen you in your preppy office attire. He has no idea what you’re capable of beneath those cream blouses and mocha mini skirts.

If only he knew.

“Tldr, yes I have very urgent plans tonight.” That reminds you, you need to check your in-game shop to see if any pretty skins are on sale this time around. You’ve been eyeing the one with the cute whale shark design.

“What a coincidence, Lauren Christina is my favorite writer too. I really liked that one book she wrote.” You don’t hate that he’s prolonging the conversation, but if he says “Lauren Christina” one more time, you’re gonna report him to HR.

“Same,” you chuckle. “Now please move so I can leave.”

He finally steps aside. Before he can pull a fast one and trap you again, you throw your tiny bag over your shoulder and scurry for the exit. You stop just outside the conference room and spin around. The boy’s eyes quickly shift up from your skirt.

“Coming or not?” you ask with a head tilt. If there’s one good thing about having a local fuck boy in the office, it’s that you always have someone who’ll walk you to your car when it’s dark out. That’s one of the things you know he does just for you.

On the elevator ride down, it’s just you and him because everyone else has already vacated the building. You sneak a peek at your handsome colleague. It’s a shame that he spends more time in your coworkers’ beds than in actual relationships. If not for that, you’d—

“You should recommend a book for me,” he says, catching you mindlessly staring at him. Oops.

“You don’t look like a reader.” You doubt he’d ever pick up a book over girls.

“I’ll read a book if you say it’s good.” Now he’s just sweet talking you, and you’re not going to fall for it. Except, you would love someone to gush to about your favorite books.

“Dating You/Hating You.” The book title just sort of slips out of your mouth. Though you can’t exactly vouch for how good it is since it’s the one you’re currently reading.

“Give me your best elevator pitch for it.” Haha, he thinks he’s so funny. (You laugh anyway.)

Persuasion is your thing, but you can’t give a proper elevator pitch for a book you haven’t actually finished yet. Moreover, you don’t know what kinds of genres he’d be into or if this book would be a good fit for him. You don’t even know any of his interests outside of sex and video games.

When you really think about it, there’s not much you know about Jeon Jungkook. He’s a mystery, but a charming one.

“It’ll give us something to talk about,” you say softly as the loud ding interrupts. “That’s my elevator pitch to you.”

“Not bad,” he nods as you both exit the elevator. That was way easier than expected. “Is it by your cat’s favorite romance author?”

“It is,” you smile. It’s hard not to smile when you’re with him. “I can lend you my copy next week after I fin—”

“Jungkook!” The new recruiting coordinator blocks your way out of the building with eager eyes and a smile brighter than your own. “Still down for drinks later at that place we talked about?”

You try not to roll your eyes as you step around yet another coworker who ignores you standing right next to the boy they want to ask out. You and Jungkook aren’t a thing, but it does hurt to know that not a single person thinks of you as worthy competition. He’s probably made it very clear to everyone in the office that you and him are just friends and that your nightly walks to the parking lot are for safety purposes only.

Thankfully, you get out of the building before you can hear Jungkook accept the invitation into someone else’s bed. The last thing you want is to be jealous of the people he’d rather be spending time with. You and your silly little book recommendations mean nothing to him.

Nothing at all.

“Sorry about that.” He catches up to you a minute later in the dimly lit parking lot.

You shake your head. “It’s alright. That’s what happens when you’re the popular guy.” And you mean it, too. You’re not the type to fault people for being who they are, nor would you ever ask them to change for you. Besides, there’s really nothing between you and him. There’s nothing he should feel sorry for.

“Hey, why do you always park in the furthest corner of the parking lot?” he teases, probably as a way to change the subject. You see his car parked just a few spots down from you, so he doesn’t really have a right to criticize your decisions. Looks like your habit has rubbed off on him. “It’d be safer if you parked closer to the building.”

You shrug even though the parking placement and slightly longer walks are intentional. He doesn’t need to know it’s your subtle way of prolonging the time you spend with him. You always look forward to those few extra minutes where he’s all yours.

“It doesn’t feel dangerous here at all.” Not when you’re with him. You unlock your car and hop into the driver’s seat.

“Yeah, totally not dangerous.” Jungkook holds your door as he scans the dark and empty lot for anything suspicious. He listens as a few sirens screech in the distance and does a double-take at the lone soda can rolling around in the wind. When the coast is clear, he turns back to you. “I look forward to reading the Lauren Christina book when your cat’s done with it.”

He waits for your seatbelt to click before closing the door. You roll the window down and glare. “It’s Christina Lauren! And have fun on your date.”

With a wave of your manicure, you’re off to your “urgent” Friday night plans.

When you return home, you get what you want. You strip off your work clothes and soak in a lavender bubble bath for a good 30 minutes before admiring the new lingerie Jungkook wouldn’t stop mentioning earlier.

It’s tempting to try it on now, but you wish someone else could see it on you. Jungkook is right. Christina Lauren doesn’t care about your lingerie. If the boy were here to see it for himself, you want to know what he’d think, what he’d say, and what he’d do to your body. It’d probably be incredible—for one night—but that’d be the end of it. That’s how all of his flings go, and a hypothetical one with you would be no different. With a sigh, you set the lingerie aside, throw on an oversized sweatshirt that just barely covers your ass, and load into your game.

The first thing you do is check the shop for the cute gun skin with the whale shark design. The RNG gods give you a couple of good knives, an awful pistol, a subpar rifle, and no shark. It’s fine, you tell yourself. You didn’t want to spend real money on pretty pixels anyway.

As soon as your first match starts, your four teammates are quick to use their mics. Apparently, they all know each other. Can’t relate.

“So… How’d the date go?” asks the healer. The two duelists place their bets on whether the date went incredibly well or horribly wrong. You silently cast your vote for horribly wrong since you lean toward pessimism.

“I didn’t end up going,” says the initiator. He sounds a lot like a certain Jeon Jungkook, but you shouldn’t assume. As far as you know, he doesn’t have a reason to cancel the date with that recruiting coordinator. In fact, he should be having drunk sex with her right about now. Not that it’s any of your business to know what your handsome coworker does after hours. None of that involves you.

“Is it because of You-know-who?” asks the duelist who voted with you. You-know-who? Like a jealous ex-lover? Sounds like drama to you.

“Yep…” Nah, it can’t be the Jeon Jungkook you know. This guy’s voice is giving you more lovesick puppy than confident fuck boy. He dies from a grenade and goes silent for the next few rounds while his buddies keep providing intel to the team. You pick up the whale shark gun over his dead body.

“Hey, CL,” the healer calls out your username. “Do you have a mic?”

Yes, you do have a mic. No, you’re not going to use it. These guys seem harmless so far, but it’s not always fun when people realize you’re the only female on the team. Men in this game try to hit on you just like the ones you pass in the short distance from the office to your car. And they’ll only stop pestering you if you’re walking next to a guy like Jungkook, which you clearly don’t have in this game with your empty friend list. So you’d rather stay on mute for now.

“my mic is broken,” you type, “cat knocked it over.”

“Ah, that’s okay.” He heals you up and saves you from an otherwise fatal headshot. “We were just wondering if you could help our buddy out.”

You? You’re not sure how you’re supposed to be of any help to a lovesick puppy when you haven’t had much luck in the love department either. But you are a curious kitten when it comes to other people’s love lives.

“maybe… can i get more context?”

Apparently, this lovesick puppy (or “Jklmnop” according to his username) has a little more in common with Jungkook than you’d originally thought. Turns out both of them are the designated fuck boys at their workplaces. Except this one has a massive crush on his “super hot” colleague. Jeon Jungkook would never.

The issue is that Jklmnop caught feelings for the one person who doesn’t seem interested in him. Worse, it feels like he’s being friendzoned. And he’s been going on dates with other people in an attempt to squash those unrequited feelings, but it’s just not doing the trick.

“i know a fuck boy too.” You are by no means an expert in the fuck boy archetype, but perhaps your time spent with Jungkook has prepared you for this opportunity to help a friend in need. And you do have some advice. “im not saying fucking all your coworkers is a bad thing but if you really want this girl you need to go all in on her and show her that you’re willing to commit to something more serious.”

Because if you knew this to be true about your own local fuck boy, you’d give him a chance, too. But as far as you know, Jungkook has never shown any romantic interest in you (or anyone else for that matter). He’s just a platonic buddy to you and a fuck buddy to everyone else.

“and it’s very possible she doesnt even realize youre interested in her,” you type, “this is a dumb question but have you tried asking her out yet?”

Your dumb question gets a few laughs from the boys. You feel like an IT person asking their client if they’ve tried turning their computer off and on again.

“Oh, our guy here doesn’t ask people out. He’s the one getting asked out all the time,” Duelist #1 explains.

“It’s been a year and You-know-who hasn’t made a move on him, so that must mean she doesn’t like him,” Duelist #2 adds in a sarcastic tone. You imagine him rolling his eyes on the other side of his screen.

“well @Jklmnop if you dont normally ask ppl out, itll hold more weight when you do.” Your fingers pause for a second. Maybe you’re just soft, but it’d mean a lot to you if you were asked out by the Jeon Jungkook. You’re sure this fuck boy could pull it off too. “you should ask her out. maybe shes waiting for you to make the move.”

You don’t get an immediate response, but he trades his pretty shark gun for your plain one. He must have seen you steal the one over his dead body a few rounds ago. What a thoughtful guy.

Then a friend request pops up. Fine. Jklmnop can be the one username on your otherwise empty friend list.

“I’ll ask her if the opportunity arises,” Jklmnop says after clutching a 1v4. “Thanks bro.”

On Monday, you’re a lot sleepier than you should be at the beginning of the work week because you practically spent the entire weekend gaming with your new fuck boy friend and finishing the book you recommended to your office fuck boy friend.

Your dark circles must be pretty bad because Jungkook feels the need to stop by your desk and say, “Up all night reading Lauren Christina?” He taps the book on your mousepad, so he can clearly see that it’s Christina Lauren and not Lauren Christina. He’s just teasing you at this point.

“It’s Christina Lauren, you shithead. And yes, I finished it, so you can read it now,” you say, handing the book to the boy. He holds it with a soft grip as if to avoid creasing the pages. If library books were treated with the same care, they wouldn’t feel so crusty all the time. You can respect guys with gentle hands. “I expect a full book report by Friday.”

“At least give me the weekend,” he frowns. It’s the most attractive frown you’ve ever seen.

“Sure, if that’s how you want to spend your weekend,” you yawn. Wouldn’t he rather be doing anything else on his days off than read your book?

“That’s how you spent your weekend, Sleepyhead.” He makes a good point. His chuckle is quite cute too.

As he flips through the book, you see something shimmery wedged between the pages toward the end of the story. You told yourself a million times to take your silly little bookmark out before lending him the book, but of course you forgot. Maybe he won’t notice.

Unfortunately for you, Jungkook pulls the metallic blue bookmark out to examine it. His lips curve upward when he sees it’s shaped like a whale shark. Oh great. He’s definitely gonna tease you about it. You knew you should’ve gone with one of the more sophisticated leather bookmarks.

“You really like these guys, huh.” He holds it up by the chain to let some light shine through the tiny holes mimicking the shark’s gorgeous spotty pattern. Not the reaction you were expecting, but you’ll take it.

“What makes you say that?” You don’t ever recall confiding in him about your whale shark obsession. Last time you checked, all of your nerdy and kiddish quirks were kept far away from your office. It’s just not on-brand for the professional image you’ve established here.

“Didn’t you have a cute whale shark phone case when you first started working here? Before you switched it to that cream-colored one?” He wrinkles his face, deep in thought as he tucks the bookmark back where he found it. He’s right, though. You just assumed no one had ever noticed it. As soon as you got your new work phone, you switched to something more neutral to fit your minimalist aesthetic.

“Oh, right.” You’d forgotten about the case just like you forgot about the bookmark. But Jungkook somehow notices and remembers those kinds of details about you. It’s almost endearing in a way.

You shouldn’t let yourself think like that, though. Those are dangerous thoughts.

“By the way, how was your date?” As much as you hate to admit it, you’re curious about his date with the recruiting coordinator. Besides, if he says it went well, you’ll have yet another reason to stop holding onto the tiny feelings you have for him.

“I didn’t go.”

“Oh,” you press a finger to your parted lips. That’s unheard of for Jeon Jungkook. “Did her cat die or something?”

“Why does someone’s cat need to die for the date to be canceled?”

“There must’ve been a pretty big emergency for you to forgo a date, no?”

“Is that what you really think of me, Y/N?” He cocks his head to the side because he’s a fuck boy and that’s what fuck boys do.

“That’s not what I think of you.” Another yawn slips from your mouth. “It’s just facts. You have a 99% attendance rate when it comes to dates, don’t you?”

He nods because he can’t argue with the credible gossip that goes on in your office.

“Anyway, I’m going to run to that coffee shop you won’t shut up about,” he says as he glances at the time on his phone and then at the dark abyss under your eyes. “Need anything?”

“Hmm…” You pretend to think deeply about your order. Usually when other people go on coffee runs, you request something easy to remember like an oat latte. But for Jeon Jungkook, the boy who keeps fucking up Christina Lauren’s name, you won’t go so easy. “How about an iced birthday cake latte with oat milk, an extra shot of espresso, two pumps of toffee syrup, and the crème brûlée topping? Please.”

“So… birthday cake frappuccino with oat milk?” He snickers in your sleepy face before walking off. “You’re gonna have to come with if you want all that extra stuff.”

It’s a latte, not a frappuccino. But you suppose it doesn’t matter if he knows the difference because you’re scurrying to catch up with him as he heads for the elevator.

The “coffee shop you won’t shut up about” has been open for a few months now, and you’ve stopped by at least two times a week since the grand opening for your usual dose of caffeine. Should you be proud or embarrassed that the baristas all know your name and order? How about when they raise their eyebrows at the sight of you walking in with your handsome coworker?

“She’ll have a birthday cake frapp—”

“Don’t listen to him. I’ll get a birthday cake latte, please,” you tell the barista at the register. Jungkook chuckles as you give his arm a light shove. “With oat milk and crème brûlée today.”

“Sure thing, Y/N,” she smiles at you and then turns to the boy next to you. “Anything for you?”

“Just plain coffee, thanks,” he says after a quick glance at the menu. You hate that he orders plain coffee when the menu has all these fun options like pink donut lattes or cookies n cream cappuccinos. If he wanted black coffee, he could’ve saved time and money by brewing some in the office. He didn’t have to go all the way to the coffee shop you wouldn’t shut up about. But he did. And he invited you along for the ride.

As the two of you wait for your drinks, you pick the booth in the corner next to the window. You’ve always had this vision of sitting inside a cozy cafe to work from your laptop or read a book. It just hasn’t happened yet because you get scared off when all the other customers bring their friends or lovers to share that experience with. Your laptop and books can’t compare to that.

You’ve always been envious. Until today.

“That doesn’t look nearly as complex as it sounded,” Jungkook says when he sees your latte with the fancy crème brûlée on it. He slides his boring coffee across the table to you. “I’ll let you try mine if you let me try yours.”

Only a weirdo would accept a pathetic offer like that.

“Deal.” You take a sip of your sugary treat before passing it off to the boy. He winces from how sweet yours is compared to the bitterness of his black coffee. You make a face for the opposite reason.

“I’m surprised you agreed to it,” he hums with a tiny bit of crème brûlée around his mouth. You want to kiss it off. He must notice you eyeing his lips because he wipes it off with his thumb a second later.

“I wanted you to try my special drink,” you say. It’s for the same reason you lent him your book—to let him know another tiny piece of you without explicitly saying it.

“I’ll have to get it myself next time we come.” He pulls up the notes app on his phone and types as he speaks. You wonder if “next time” and “we” imply that this coffee outing is going to become another routine thing between you and him, just like your walks to the parking lot. Hopefully it does. No, it definitely will. Because you’ll be the one to ask him next time. “What’s it called again? Birthday cake frappuccino… with crème brûlée?”

“Exactly,” you lie. Who knows. His mistake might taste even better. You’ll have to find a way to sneak a taste when he isn’t looking. It’s something sweet to look forward to.

As you sip your latte, the barista who took your order catches your eye from across the store, points at Jungkook, and mouths something to you. You don’t quite catch it, so she repeats it again just as your coworker turns to see what you’re staring at.

“Boyfriend?” she mouths, clear as day, before spinning around to use the espresso machine.

When the boy turns back to you, he has such a goofy grin on his face. He points to himself and repeats, “Boyfriend?”

“Stop,” you laugh at his antics but totally dodge the question. “Anyway… may I ask why you didn’t go on that date with the recruiting coordinator?”

His eyes are wide. Probably because it’s not like you to pry. But you just want to make sense of why he’s sitting here with you, acting all sweet and boyfriend-like, after bailing on someone else a few days ago. He’s not his usual self either.

“It was faster to reject her,” he shrugs. You didn’t realize he was in such a hurry on Friday. It certainly didn’t seem like it with how he’d blocked your way out of the conference room.

“What were you in such a hurry for?”

“Isn’t it our unspoken thing to walk to the parking lot together?” He says it like you’re silly. Like the fate of the world depends on him being able to fulfill his duty of walking you to your car each and every day. Like he’d forgo hours of good sex for a five-minute walk with you.

“It’s not unspoken if we talk about it,” you say softly. You’ve always adored the short walks with Jungkook, but maybe you weren’t the only one who felt that way. What kind of guy rejects a date just so he can keep up this year-old tradition between you and him? No guy has ever done anything close to that for you. “But yeah, it is our thing.”

The boy nods with a gentle smile as he sips his coffee. For just a split second, he gives you Jklmnop vibes. You don’t know how else to explain it. He’s a fuck boy, but there’s something so delicate about him that you want to touch without breaking.

You wonder if he’d ever let you in.

On the way out, your favorite friendly barista waves you over to the counter with a huge grin. As much as you love the girl, you’re scared of what might come out of her mouth next. She leans in as if to whisper but ends up shouting over the grinder in the background.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about him.” Her eyes flick to somewhere beyond your shoulders. “He’s such a hottie, by the way. Y’all are kinda cute together.”

A snort comes from right behind you. “Thank you,” says the hottie. Your hottie, apparently. It would’ve been perfectly fine for him to clarify that the two of you aren’t actually together, but you suppose his ego was too busy soaking in the compliment from the pretty barista.

“Really?” You raise an eyebrow at Jungkook as soon as you’re both out the door.

“What?” What’s with that playful smile of his?

“You didn’t deny what she said.”

“A compliment’s a compliment, Y/N.”

“I didn’t mean the part about you being a hottie.” You shudder at that last word. Yes, Jungkook is the hottest guy you’ve ever seen, but he doesn’t need to hear that from your mouth. “I meant the part about you being my boyfriend.”

“You didn’t deny it earlier, either,” he shrugs. True. “Besides, isn’t that also a compliment?”

Now that he’s mentioned it, it does feel pretty nice to be seen as a couple with someone as attractive as Jungkook—to give the illusion that it’s you who’s got him wrapped around your finger, you who he chose above everyone else, and you who gets to fall asleep in his arms every night. And it feels especially good considering how often other people dismiss you as someone not good enough for him. In fact, this is the first time anyone has ever acknowledged that the two of you go well together.

“Hey man, mind if I steal that fine little lady for a sec?” a sleazy voice calls out in your direction. You don’t bother turning your head to acknowledge the presence of yet another ignorant hooligan on the street, but you do step a little closer to Jungkook. You don’t know what pisses you off more: the fact that this stranger is another nonbeliever that you could be dating a guy like Jungkook or the fact that he asked for another male’s permission to talk to you instead of asking you directly. Most catcallers keep their mouths shut when you’re walking with your handsome coworker, but this one clearly can’t take a hint.

A warm hand pulls you in at the waist. It’s the same soft grip Jungkook held your book with. And you kind of never want him to let go. Because when he holds you close like that, all the shitty people become irrelevant. That doesn’t, however, stop you from getting a kick out of the death stare he gives the catcaller who finally backs off.

“You really showed him,” you tease. His face loosens up after you let out a tiny snicker. Still, he studies your every expression to make sure you’re alright.

“Does that happen to you wherever you go?” he asks as he moves his arm up from your waist to your shoulder, something slightly more appropriate for two friendly colleagues. Suddenly your waist feels cold.

“Usually when I’m out by myself.” Whether it’s the supermarket, the park, the office, you’ve felt objectified pretty much everywhere. Even online. The sad thing about it is that you know you’re not the only one. ”But I’m used to it at this point.”

“Well, men are kind of shitty,” he huffs, looking rather frustrated on your behalf. You’ve never seen him so irritated. For the most part, he knows how to keep a calm composure, even during busy season. It’s oddly satisfying that an inconvenience for you is what brought that emotion out of him.

“I used to think that,” you admit as the two of you enter the office building. “But all it takes is one good guy to outweigh the shitty ones.”

For you, Jungkook has always been that one good guy.

“True. I suppose that hottie boyfriend of yours isn’t that bad, huh.” He gives you a soft shoulder squeeze in the elevator before dropping his arm back to his side. It’s a subtle taste of what he could be doing to other places on your body if he were actually your boyfriend. He’d handle you with so much care.

“You won’t let that go, will you?” you pout, pointing your thumb back in the general direction of the coffee shop. “Those baristas really think we’re dating now, you know.”

He pinches your pouty cheek and leaves you at your desk with a not-so-innocent remark.

“I wonder why they think that about us.”

The second half of your day feels painfully long. It’s kind of hard to focus on designing wholesome character models when you’ve got Jeon Jungkook stuck in your head. At this rate, your cute little characters are going to turn into bad boys who steal your books and lattes along with your heart. You can’t help it when he’s been extra sweet to you lately. Sweeter than a birthday cake frappuccino could ever be. And just like your favorite sugary beverages, there’s something so addicting about his company.

As you’re finishing up some designs, you spot the boy chatting with his buddies from the other departments. It’s unfair that an entire friend group can be so goodlooking. And it’s even more unfair that Jungkook is still the one you can’t take your eyes off of in the handsome bunch. Great, now you’re even more distracted.

“Hey, I saw you were online again last night,” says the guy from accounting. He has long pretty eyelashes. “Where was my invite?”

“Ah, yeah. Remember that girl on our team the other night?” Jungkook has a cheeky grin. Why does he have such a cheeky grin while talking about some e-girl, and why does your tummy hurt all of a sudden? “She helped me climb out of plat. She’s diamond.”

So what? That’s the same rank as you. Nothing special. Hmph. You hope she gets demoted before the act ends. You’re not a jealous person, but you are petty.

“How do you know she’s a she?” asks the engineer with plump lips.

“That’s what she told me,” Jungkook continues. “And it fits with the fact that she doesn’t use a mic. You guys know how fucked up people can be in that game.”

You nod along to that.

“What’s her username again? I wanna add her now,” the other engineer jumps in. This one has broad shoulders. Very broad.

“You just want to hit on her,” Engineer #1 shakes his head at Engineer #2. You agree with that too.

“Is she single? Or at least around our age?” asks the accountant.

“You guys are monsters,” Jungkook laughs. “I’ll give you her username only if you promise not to simp.”

“Fine,” they all agree reluctantly.

You convince yourself that you’re only eavesdropping because they’re talking too loud, but you’re actually just curious to search up the username and see how this e-girl’s game stats stack up against yours. You’re quite confident your headshot percentage will outrank hers.

“It’s CL, remember?”

“Oh right.”

No, not right. That’s definitely not the username you picked as a subtle nod to your favorite author, and Jungkook is definitely not the lovesick fuck boy you’ve been giving advice to through some wack ass shooter game. Definitely not.

Because if it were true, that would mean Jungkook has a crush on somebody in your office. And who the heck would that be?

“Ready to head out?” Jungkook pops out of nowhere and scares the shit out of you. You nearly leap out of your seat with a tight fist around your tablet pen like you’re about to knife the boy in-game. He holds your book up as a shield. “Whoa there.”

“My bad, I thought you were the enemy.” You snap the pen back onto your tablet and say it with a straight face as if he knows you play the same violent game as him.

He plays along, scanning the office for anyone suspicious. “Who’s the enemy?”

“Marketing?” You only say that because everyone in the office knows the marketing director Kim Namjoon was your college nemesis back when you were even pettier than you are now.

“Ah,” he nods as you pack up and roll your chair in. You’ve always wondered why he just accepts the weird things you do without question. “Glad I’m not your enemy. Wouldn’t want to be stabbed by your tablet pen. Or your nails.”

He points to your pretty manicure. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he’s subtly asking to hold your hand. But you do know better. He has an intense crush on someone else in the building, so there’s really no reason why he’d want to hold your hand.

So instead of misreading the situation and making a fool of yourself by entwining your fingers with his, you poke your favorite of his tattoos (the silly face on his middle finger) with your acrylic. “Consider yourself stabbed.”

You try not to look at the boy’s wrinkly smile. But it’s incredibly hard. Instead, you redirect your eyes anywhere else. Of course they fall on the “it couple” of the office passing by. They don’t do a whole lot of PDA, but the way they look at each other says it all, and they have this glow about them that seems so unobtainable. You feel the envy creeping up again.

On the elevator ride down, you try not to think about the happy couple or Jungkook’s wrinkly smile. It’s making you sad.

“Can I ask you something?” he turns to you. Maybe his question will take your mind off everything bringing your mood down. You nod for him to proceed. “How do you feel about dating a coworker?”

Shitty. You feel shitty. He could probably sense that from your silence upon seeing the couple.

“You mean like Hyuna and Dawn?” You don’t have a problem with it, or with them. If you could pull off a perfect office romance like them, you’d do it too. But it doesn’t seem likely for you, and that’s what sucks.

“Just in general. Like, do you think it’s fine, or is it crossing the line?” he asks. Aha, you get it now. He’s asking for your opinion because he doesn’t want to make you, his totally platonic friend, feel uncomfortable when he starts dating whoever he has a crush on here.

“HR allows it, so I don’t really see a problem with it,” you answer honestly. Sure, you’d be hurt if you had to work in an environment where Jungkook is doing lovey-dovey things with someone else, but you’re not going to be the one to ruin it for him.

“I’ve never seen you date anyone here, though.”

“Well I don’t get asked out all the time like you, Jungkook.”

“What about Mark from accounting? Or my guy Jooheon before he moved overseas? And don’t get me started on Kim Namjoon.” He has his fingers out and ready to list all the other guys in the office who’ve expressed some sort of interest in you, but he decides against it when he sees you glaring back at him. Wise man.

You’d love to know why he’s so familiar with your nonexistent office dating history.

“Okay, I get it. I’ve been asked out a fair amount,” you sigh. “But it doesn’t really count if they aren’t the right person.”

That earns you a soft head tilt from the boy. You swear he’s a puppy. “Oh? Miss Y/N has a type?”

When you think about it, a few of the guys who’ve asked out were your type—smart, funny, hardworking—and yet you still said no. They’ve never hand-delivered meeting notes and chamomile tea when you were out sick, never walked you to your car, never given you something to look forward to at work, and never known your favorite animal. They’ve never made you want them the way you want a certain someone else.

“I wouldn’t exactly call it a type.” It’s a person. The person who makes you feel so safe and cared for. The person who has feelings for another girl. “It’s a little more complicated than that.”

You don’t like being vague, but saying any more than that would only set you up for heartbreak. He can’t hurt you if you stay silent.

As the elevator continues to count down, Jungkook leans against the railing, arms crossed and head down. He’s awfully quiet for someone who always feels the need to say something silly until you laugh.

“What if I told you there’s one more person in the office who’s interested in you?” he asks just before the elevator arrives on the first floor.

The door slides open but neither of you steps out, so it closes back up.

You blink at the boy. First you learn Jungkook has a crush on someone, and now someone suddenly has a crush on you? Your brain genuinely doesn’t know what to do with all this information.

You’d ask who your secret admirer is, but it doesn’t matter. You’d only say yes to one person in this office, and his feelings lie elsewhere. Maybe he’s just trying to set you up with another guy who can walk you to your car. It’s not like the two of you would be able to keep up that tradition once he’s committed to someone else.

You’d rather walk alone at that point.

“A workplace romance sounds cool and all.” You point at the book in Jungkook’s hand while trying to keep a light tone. “But it’s just not for me. You know what I mean?”

He nods with a chuckle as the two of you finally clear out of the elevator. “Based on my history here, it’s probably not for me either.”

You know he’s poking fun at himself, but you hope he doesn’t actually feel that way about himself. He still needs to ask his girl out, and he can’t chicken out now. As the person he’s confided in about his feelings, it’s your job to shower him with encouragement and support. You’ll have to wait until you’re back online, though.

On the way to your car, the office romance conversation has been completely dropped. You ramble on about your sudden craving for tacos, and he claims he makes a “mean taco salad” before sending you a screenshot of the recipe no one asked for. You’ll try it when you get home.

Like always, he leans against your car door as you buckle yourself in. This time, he even tugs on the seatbelt like amusement park workers do before sending you off on a roller coaster. As gentle as he is, it stings where the tips of his fingers graze your shoulder. That feeling lingers even after the door closes.

Jungkook wasn’t lying, you think to yourself as you munch away at his definition of a “mean taco salad.” Your first instinct is to text him about it, but your second one is to silence your phone and cozy up for the night. After your shower, you have another staredown with the pretty lingerie set. At this rate, no one’s going to see you in it, so you might as well wear it and look cute for yourself.

It’s a little more see-through than you’re normally comfortable with, but the soft silky champagne accents make your body glow. To complete the look, you throw on a short skimpy robe with a baby pink floral pattern. Perhaps you’re being extra for a quiet night in with your cat and a cup of chamomile tea. But it’s what you need right now because you’re desperately searching for something to comfort and distract you from that dang feeling Jungkook left you with.

It also couldn’t hurt to play a few games without Jklmnop. Maybe you’ll get lucky with the whale shark gun today.

Unfortunately, there’s still no whale shark gun in your shop, but at least Jungkook isn’t online yet. The four games you play without him go really well stat-wise. You’re the team MVP for half those games—something you hadn’t achieved all weekend with Jklmnop on your team. He’s a great friend but the kind of ally who will intentionally blind you so he can make you quake in your boots and steal your kill in the process. He’s lucky he hasn’t let you die while fucking around like that. Still, you can’t remember the last time you had that much fun in your matches.

As you review the summary of game #4, a notification pops up in the top corner of your screen.

[Jklmnop is online!]

“wanna carry me to radiant?” he DMs you right away and sends you an invite.

“no,” you type as you join his party.

“what if i trade you my whale shark gun?”

“fine”

The first thing you do when you spawn into the match is demand the whale shark gun. You put your baseball bat to his head, waiting for him to keep his end of the bargain. The boy drops the gun in front of you and backs away slowly.

“It’s cute that you like that skin so much,” he chuckles into his mic. When you hear his voice, you feel like an idiot for convincing yourself that Jklmnop and Jeon Jungkook weren’t the same person. There’s no mistaking that that’s the calm and flirty voice that has haunted you every day at work for the past year. Does it make you an asshole for wholeheartedly believing your local fuck boy friend wasn’t capable of developing real feelings for someone in the office? Probably, but you intend on redeeming yourself by sending him your full support in the love department. You’re just waiting for him to bring it up.

Twenty kills and one stolen ace later, Jungkook still hasn’t said anything about the mysterious You-know-who—which is weird, considering he wouldn’t shut up all weekend about how she’s “soft like a kitten” but “one that won’t hesitate to bring the claws out.” Who is this girl, and what has she done to Jungkook? He’s become a total cheeseball. And you can’t think of a single person in the office who fits his cheesy description.

“any update on youknowwho about youknowwhat?” you type between rounds.

Jungkook’s character paces back and forth in the snow even after the round begins. The three other members of your team starts following him like ducklings without knowing the context. You watch from afar as they get sniped down one by one until you’re the last one alive.

Usually in 1v5 situations like this, you’re great at keeping your cool and isolating your duels so you aren’t overwhelmed by an ambush. But instead of listening for footsteps and directional cues, you’re listening hard for the boy’s response to your question.

“Clutch this and I’ll give you an update on You-know-who,” he says after you cut the enemy team’s numbers down to one. All you have to do now is plant the bomb and wait for the last person to come out to start defusing. That’s when you’ll swoop in and—

Your character falls face first into the snow. You’ve been knifed from behind, which loses you the round but earns you an evil snicker from Jungkook.

At the start of the next round, you wait once more for the boy to trade his gun with you. But instead, he just stands there, clutching onto the weapon while the rest of the team rushes onto the site to plant the bomb.

“I’ve decided not to ask her out,” he says out of nowhere. “We have this wholesome thing between us, and it’s best if we keep it that way.”

“what makes you say that?” you type before joining up with the others on site. As far as you know, Jungkook isn’t wholesome with any coworker. Except you, maybe. He must have some other strange definition of wholesome.

“Let’s just say I read a whole ass book tonight about a workplace romance and realized I’m not cut out for it.” He really read your book. No. He devoured it. Why does that mean the absolute world to you? “She’s seen me going on date after date, and now I’m pretty sure I’ve scared her away from wanting any part of that.”

He’s not wrong. You used to feel the same way about him, so you understand why he has his reservations. But if that girl knew how much he’d cherish their relationship the way he cherishes your friendship with him, you know she’d fall for him too. There’s no doubt in your mind about that. It’s just a matter of him vocalizing it.

“i still think you should be upfront with her about your feelings,” you type away as you get headshot from who knows where.

“She can’t hurt me if I stay silent,” Jungkook hums as he runs toward the ticking bomb and crouches in front of it. It looks like he’s trying to defuse the bomb that your own team planted, but it explodes in his face before you have time to correct him.

“gj,” one of your teammates puts in the chat even though everyone watching knows it was not a “good job.” The only silver lining is that he secured the win for your team. You don’t feel like playing anymore, anyway.

Before you log off for the night, you start typing out some long motivational speech along with your top ten reasons as to why Jungkook would make an excellent boyfriend. He’d try new things with you, share some of his favorite things with you, make sure you’re safe, and tease you until the end of time while making you feel so so loved. You know this because it’s what he’s done with you for the past year. But the more you think about it, the more you realize it’s not your place to say all of that from behind a screen with your mic on mute.

You end up deleting your whole spiel and settle for a simple “good night😴” to the boy from your gaming account. Then you get back on your phone.

Y/N🦈 [11:47PM] “It was indeed a mean taco salad”

Y/N🦈 [11:47PM] “Btw did you finish the book?👀”

Jungkook🥴 [11:48PM] “Finished it in 4 hours😌”

Y/N🦈 [11:49PM] “Wanna drop it off to me now?”

Jungkook🥴 [11:49PM] “Now?”

Jungkook🥴 [11:50PM] “Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

Y/N🦈 [11:51PM] “Yes but my cat can’t fall asleep without his bedtime story”

Y/N🦈 [11:51PM] “🥺”

Y/N🦈 [11:51PM] “^^^My cat”

Jungkook🥴 [11:54PM] “omw”

The boy knocks on your door a few minutes later and does a horrible job of keeping his eyes above shoulder level. It doesn’t occur to you that your chest and ass are hanging out of your robe until the chilly air hits those spots.

“All dressed up for your night with Lauren Christina?” he says casually, handing the book back to you in mint condition.

“I thought you said Christina Lauren doesn’t care about my lingerie.” You cross your arms over your chest like it was totally intentional to answer the door in the bare minimum. Jungkook’s sleepwear, on the other hand, looks super cozy. And of fucking course he’s hot as hell in something as simple as sweats and a hoodie. A boy like him doesn’t have to put in any thought or effort to look cute.

“I stand by what I said.” He stares at your exposed skin in an almost lustful manner. Almost. “It’s cold out. You should go crawl back in bed and read your cat his bedtime story. Or do you need me to tuck him in, too?”

“He is quite needy,” you play along. Too bad he’s already fast asleep, all curled up on the couch. You wouldn’t mind if Jungkook tucked you in, though.

“Well tell your needy cat I said goodnight.” He takes a step back toward his car, but you know he must realize you didn’t call him all the way over here just for your cat’s sake.

“Jungkook,” you call out while flipping through the book. Once you find the bookmark wedged in the middle, you extend it to him like a peace offering.

He accepts the bookmark albeit with a puzzled expression. “Is this gratuity for delivering your book at this late hour?”

You shake your head. “It’s gratuity for lending me your whale shark gun all the time.”

“Whale shark gun?” He grips the bookmark by the dorsal fin and holds it like a pistol. It’s aimed at your left breast (or heart) (but breast sounds more accurate).

“The one from the Gentle Giants collection,” you say softly as you rub your arms because holy shit is it cold out. “In Valoranch.”

The wheels in his head start to turn as you pull him inside and toward your “work from home” setup in the living room. Your desk is pretty empty aside from the pastel headset, the cute dolphin Pokémon on your desktop wallpaper, and a cold cup of tea.

Then he spots the little Valoranch shortcut on the far left corner of your screen. “Wait, you really play Valoranch? What’s your username?”

Instead of telling him, you show him with the help of your book. Your index finger slides across the bookcover from the C in Christina to the L in Lauren.

His eyes widen like a naughty cat caught doing something it shouldn’t be doing.

“Then that means you know about…” He pauses because he dare not repeat his feelings for another coworker in front of you.

You nod. “But I didn’t realize it was you until I overheard you talking about it with the guys earlier today.”

“My voice and backstory didn’t give it away?”

“It definitely sounded like you.” You plop into your chair and start spinning around so he can’t get a clear view of your face. “But how was I supposed to know you had feelings for someone in our office? I still don’t know who she is, by the way.”

“You don’t?” Your childlike spins are interrupted by a steady hand. From the corner of your eye, you can see the boy’s face transition from doomed to amused. Good. He shouldn’t beat himself up over the bizarre situation.

“Nope.” At least you don’t have a specific face to imagine being next to Jungkook’s on those corny holiday cards that couples and families love to hand out around the office this time of year. “Regardless, you need to stop chickening out and just tell her how you feel already. If she knows you the way I know you, I promise you have nothing to worry about.”

The thing is, you don’t know if anyone else has been on the receiving end of the kinds of things Jungkook does for you. Does he show that side to anyone else but you?

“Fine, you’ve convinced me. I’ll do it.” He sits himself down beside the cat on the couch. “But only if you can figure out who it is.”

You give him a tiny nod for him to drop some hints. Of course you’ll lend an ear and play along if that’s what it takes for him to be more open about his feelings. Besides, you can’t say no when his voice is so soft and fragile like that.

“She’s on the design team.” Your team is fairly small, so that narrows it down to names and faces you’d actually recognize.

“She has the most complex coffee order I’ve ever seen.” More complex than yours?

“I impulse-bought that whale shark gun because it reminds me of her.” Someone else has good taste in endangered marine life.

“My second job includes walking her to her car after work and pretending to be her hottie boyfriend.” Wait.

“And lastly, in case all of those other hints weren’t obvious enough, she has a needy cat who’s obsessed with Christina Lauren.” He strokes between your needy kitty’s ears and tucks the little guy in under a blanket. What a lucky cat.

Jungkook only stops with the wholesome shit when you climb into his lap and press your lips into his jawline. On instinct, he slips beneath your robe and grabs you at the waist with those gentle hands of his. He smells of cardamom and cedarwood, like the candle you burn on cold nights when fluffy blankets aren’t enough. And like a moth, you’re attracted to the light and warmth he radiates in the dimness of your home. Even if it means you might get burned.

“Congratulations, you finally got the name right.” You stick your tongue out while your nails comb their way through the locks of hair at the back of his neck. He locks eyes with you, leaning ever so slightly into the massage the way cats do when they need more attention.

And then your lips meet his. You expect the guy who’s locked lips with everyone in the office to get straight to the point and not hold back, but that isn’t the case. What he gives you instead is a soft graze, an affectionate tease. When you try to go in for another taste, he pulls back and lets you chase him. You’d love nothing more than to wipe that smirk off his face with another kiss.

“I thought you said you weren’t down to date a coworker?” Smartass. You wouldn’t be sitting on top of his cock if you weren’t down to be more intimate with him.

“That only applies to everyone except you.” Your robe slides off your shoulder as you poke him in the chest. Funny how you aren’t cold anymore.

“What makes me so special?” he asks while getting a sneak peek of the pretty lingerie you’d secretly hoped he’d see on you.

You think about all the little things he does—he walks with you, reads your book recommendations, takes note of your favorite animals and coffee shops. And he never expects anything in return, including your feelings apparently. He just wants to make sure you feel seen and know he always has your back. When he’s too chicken to be upfront about his feelings, you’ve come to realize this is his love language.

“You might be open about all the sleeping around you do with other people, but the subtle thoughtful things you do just for me don’t go unnoticed.” You run your fingers along his cheek and bring your lips within striking distance from his. This time, he doesn’t initiate another chase and allows you to press your words into his mouth. “Plus I think it’s really cute that you use the whale shark skin in-game because of me.”

“That’s when I knew I was down bad.” The sound he makes is somewhere between a chuckle and an embarrassed sigh. “I didn’t even know you played that game and yet my mind was still finding ways to connect everything back to you and your little quirks.”

“I knew I was down bad when I installed that game after hearing you raging about it with the boys,” you blurt out of nowhere.

“You did what, Y/N?”

“I started playing that headache of a game because of you, okay? I wholeheartedly believed I was taking that secret to the grave, but now it stays between you and me. Got it?” Your face feels hot, but you aren’t complaining.

“Yes, ma’am.” His teasing grin will never get old, and you love that about him.

In the heat of another kiss, you feel Jungkook tug on the silky sash at your waist. Your robe opens up like curtains being drawn for a grand reveal. Exposed as you are, there’s no need to hide anymore. In fact, you’d be more than down to have sex out in the open on the couch, but you also have to consider the innocent kitten sleeping next to you.

Like the considerate boy he is, Jungkook scoops you up without disturbing the cat and makes his way to your bedroom.

He lays you down on the bed and eyes your body from head to toe. If he wasn’t giving you horny eyes when you greeted him at the door, he definitely is now.

“Am I gonna get you in trouble for keeping you up past your bedtime?” He saves time by tearing his hoodie and t-shirt off in one go. Based on those abs, you suppose working out is another one of his favorite pastimes alongside sex, gaming, and fucking around with you.

“No.” You reach for his body and pull him on top of you. The large bulge tucked away in his sweatpants catches your attention. “But I might be a little sore for tomorrow.”

“Oh? Is that how you like it?” He rubs two fingers against the thin fabric between your legs to test the waters. Your body shudders and tenses up from the tiniest of touches. Given the dry spell you’ve suffered through this year, you know it won’t take much for you to lose it. “Sure you can handle it?”

“Try me.” You push back with your tongue in his mouth and help him out of his sweats. You’re one swipe away from clawing his boxers off, but he grabs ahold of your wrists and pins you against the pillows.

“Someone’s awfully eager,” he says as he leaves a trail of kisses from your neck to your breasts. You squirm under his hot breath, asking for more contact—anywhere on your body will do.

“Yeah, well, we do have another meeting bright and early tomorrow morning, and it’d look bad if we both fell asleep during it because we were up all night having—” Your rambling is interrupted by the boy’s cock staring you down. He tears open a square packet, but you swipe it away and slide it down his length. You don’t mind a bit of rubber if it gives you an excuse to get your paws on him.

In return, he helps you wiggle out of your teeny tiny thong and bra. His hands waste no time in squeezing your breasts and fingering you down below to make sure you’re wet enough. (Spoiler alert: You most definitely are.)

As big as he is, he slides in with relative ease thanks to how desperately you need him inside you. He fills you in perfectly, too, reaffirming the fact that you and him are perfect for one another. Fuck everyone who thinks otherwise.

You dig your long nails into his arms as he moves in and out of you. If he keeps going harder with every thrust, you’re gonna have a difficult time holding on.

“I swear your nails are like cat claws,” he grunts into your ear but makes no actual effort to extract your nails from his arms.

“If I recall correctly, you did refer to me as a soft kitten who isn’t afraid to bring her claws out,” you hum up at him.

“Hey, let’s not talk about all the sappy things I said in-game right now.” There’s a hint of poutiness in his otherwise raspy bedroom voice. As punishment for teasing him, he flips you over onto your knees to give him the best view of your ass. “You weren’t supposed to hear that stuff.”

“Tell me something I’m supposed to hear,” you challenge him as he gives your ass a good squeeze. His fingers dip back between your legs and circle your clit a few times. You body rubs back on instinct like a horny pup against a toy.

“I would like to formally ask you out,” he says with his hands at your hips and his cock back inside you. "Will you go out with me?"

“You're a little late, buddy, but yes, I’ll go out with you,” you chuckle until your orgasm sneaks up on you and hits you like a truck. The moans you let out are probably loud enough to wake the cat, but that just means the two of you will have to relocate the next time you have sex. Perhaps his place or the office breakroom might be worth considering.

Your arms give out as you tighten around him, so you lower your face to the pillow and let the boy do as he pleases to your body to get his release. After a few more strong thrusts, he gasps your name out in pleasure and pulls out of you. You give him a good ten seconds to catch his breath before you smother him with a million kisses.

You take a glance at the time on your phone. It’s getting awfully late, and you do have that meeting in the morning, but the two of you have a few options:

A) Cuddle in bed and go to sleep like normal 9-5ers.

B) Hop online and play a few games together because your computer’s still on.

C) Go another round and make a special coffee run before the meeting.

None of those options sound like a bad idea when you’ve got Jeon Jungkook to do them with. All he has to do is say the word and you're down.

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