#but the man just never changed his skin during the life series | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hoseoksluna · 2 months

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LIQUID STARS | jjk

pairing: fuck buddy!jungkook x f. reader (feat. bam)

genre: angst, smut

word count: 11.8k

summary: to seal the deal, you give jungkook what he wants—your kiss, your cunt and your virginity.

playlist: liquid stars / pinterest board: wine

warnings: size kink, heavy dd/lg themes, provocation, dry humping, dirty talk, mentions of porn, oral sex (f. + m. receiving), multiple orgasms & countdown, dom/sub dynamics, reader has daddy issues (like the writer), first time, jealousy, inner child healing, plushie used during intercourse, jungkook fucks her numb & dumb, praise kink, cum eating, pet names and the establishment of a title, bondage, raw sex, tummy bulge, desperation, pain felt during intercourse, squirting

note: as difficult as it was to write this, i'm immensely thankful. this changed my life; it healed me and i'll dream about it for a long, long time. i was as exhausted as oc once i finished this, because i truly did give my all. everyone, this is part four to my series 'wine' and therefore the very end. this is the very beginning of jungkook's and oc's relationship. can be read as a standalone as there aren't any quirks from the other parts (except for bunny), though if you wish to read them now, now is the perfect time. now you can see the beautiful gradual development of their relationship. please, enjoy as you read and let me know your favorite parts bc i need to talk about this. heed the warnings as there are dd/lg themes that can be uncomfortable for some. thank you! and thank you for all the love on this series. i'll never forget it. i love you, guys. ʚɞ

side note: give some round of applause for 3D daddy provider jungkook everyone!! he deserves it!!!

Silky lilac bows adorn the tops of your pigtails that cascade down in loose braids, sprawled on the cotton of his pillow and on the soft belly of a bunny plushie. There are still traces of sunlight left on the bedding, which dissolve, little by little, into nothingness as the large star goes down, saying goodbye. It’s lightweight, the atmosphere—homely almost. And much to your surprise, you feel relatively at ease, despite the fact a man lies on top of you—a man you have a certain liking for.

It was natural for you to end up here and you, yourself, wished for it, even. Deemed it was only right after the man took you around for a walk while his silly Doberman guarded each and every step both of you had taken in sync, especially so when he persisted in buying you a small plastic ring of the same bunny you’re lying against. He didn’t even forget about his own canine friend waiting outside patiently like the obedient dog he is, and fed him the snackies he got for him as soon as he returned from the shop. You swore Bam was as giddy as you when he received his gift.

Now the ring glints in the last rays of the sun. His, too.

While yours is as white as the cloudy morning sky, Jungkook’s is as black as the drowsily dozing night sky. You think it’s the perfect contrast between the pair of you. Not that you should be noting these things, considering you’re just friends. But his skin is satiny soft, painted in impressionist tattoos, while his muscles, that his well-fitted T-shirt graciously allows you to see, are strong. You’re sure he could just lift you and throw you around without much of a strain. And it certainly doesn’t help that he’s such a striking image of pure beauty. How could you not notice these intertwinings when they’re this lovely?

You like him—without a shadow of doubt. Can feel the call of an emotional attachment forming the more he studies your skin with the tip of his index finger, embellished with the Miffy ring, and it’s owed to the fact you’ve never been touched this way before. No one has ever come this close, no one has ever been interested in the moles scattered upon your shoulders, in the veins that make the pathway to the column of your neck. No one has ever gazed twice at them—but Jungkook?

He hasn’t stopped looking at them ever since he laid you down in the middle of his bed.

How could you stop such a call? Such a lull, such a magnetic pull. You know you should, but for the meantime, you simply don’t want to. Can’t lose this moment, can’t lose this once in a lifetime opportunity—

Jungkook presses his lips against the prominent mole in the center of your left shoulder. Those pretty, puffy lips, closing against your skin, the smallest dart of tongue swiping past. It shocks you for a moment before the feeling dissolves beneath, adjusting within the freshness of your system. How could you refuse such dynamic poetry, expressed against your own forlorn body? When it’s so blatant that it’s natural, that your body willingly accepts it without a fight.

You couldn’t.

Stretching your fingers between the thick strands of his hair, you close your eyes to savor the feeling of being wanted. The movement of his mouth, going even as far as to the first vein rooted in your arm—following it with those half-closed pillows. Up, up until he finds the line of your collarbone. Jungkook pauses there, simply breathes against you before he interperses little pecks there, nibbles and gentle swipes of tongue. The lining of your top won’t let him go further down, so he changes direction—relies on the pathway of your veins to guide him to your neck. And there… at the first contact, you grip the roots of his hair.

His kisses and nibbles are much harder here. And what’s worse, he takes the sensitive skin into his mouth and sucks. You fail at containing the whimpers that break out of your mouth and Jungkook reacts to them. Hums ever so deeply, rocks his hips against the mattress. You wish you were a bit bigger so you could feel the collision, but you’re just so small compared to his large form. You imagine he’s writing down the poems collecting inside of him with each cursive roll of his tongue. Wonder if there’s enough paper on your skin for all his words.

“You sweet little thing,” Jungkook coos onto the crook of your neck, dragging his lips up and down before he stops at your jaw. You feel the warmth of his breath and his body heat seeps into yours, creating unity, blackening the ink. It feels strange, it feels so new. Brisk and springlike, like fresh air in a stuffed room. You want to stay here for a long time, tasting the wholeness of spring captured in him. You want his words to flush you red with the tinge of the entire sunlight that opens the buds of flowers during all seasons in a loop. “Can I kiss you?”

You haven’t gone beyond the innocent touching of hands with him. You brim with a tight feeling of thankfulness that he asked you such a graceful question, although something else steals your attention entirely.

“Little?” you say, the smile on your lips pulled so taut that it quivers ever so slightly. It makes you crazy that he calls you that, but you play the game. Revel in it. “What do you mean little? I’m bigger than you.”

Jungkook cocks his brow at you, mouth falling into a lopsided grin. He sits back and you feel a whiff of coldness pass by the perimeter of your body, as if someone opened the window and let the winter air in, when it’s just his brief distance that caused it. The forming attachment in you tenses and before you can think about your actions, your hand finds his knee, his thigh and traces slow patterns there. Jungkook suddenly squeezes your waist, surprising you, and the ecstatic fluttering of butterfly wings break havoc all over your body. The solidness of his hands, their weight, their firmness, giving life to your body, meaning. You note how his fingers touch when he has his hands enveloped around you like that. And the inkling that your body matters in his hands like that slips into your mind, spreading through its axis.

You bite your lower lip. A small ache begins to grow in your intimate parts. It’s so nice to be wanted, to be considered good enough to be touched, to be kissed.

“You? Bigger than me?” Jungkook squeezes your waist again. Sucks in a breath through his teeth. Smiles softly; in a way that you find unbearably endearing. “No, you’re just little. Just a tiny, little bug. So tiny in my hands.”

For the breath he inhaled, you exhale it.

He leaves his hands there when he bends over you, hovering his lips over yours. His weight, his heat. You sigh against him in relief, in a newly blossoming excitement that he’s back again. You spread your legs wider, feet grazing his calves—

“Let me kiss you, please.”

You’d give in, but the game is just so pleasurable.

Your laugh is but a breath. “You wanna kiss me?”

You exhaled, he inhaled.

“Don’t ask stupid questions.”

“Since when do friends kiss?” You cock your eyebrow at him just like he did, prodding your tongue on the inside of your cheek.

He hovers a little bit higher above you, hanging his head in defeat, sighing. Places his hands in fists on either side of you, caging you in.

“Premium friends do,” he mutters, lifting his head, face all serious. You dig your toe into the toned muscle of his thigh, twirling sweet little circles, gliding up and down. Watch as his eyes lid and he tries to control it. “Don’t do that or I’ll fuck you.”

Your body panics, but you will it to relax.

“Does that come with the premium subscription?”

Jungkook purses his lips, supports his weight on one hand as the other, the tattooed one, grips your jaw. He squishes your cheeks, bites his lip once—seemingly ponders whether he should play your game or not before he lets go of your pout, but still keeps his hand there. He traces the shape of your lips with this thumb, feeding his desire to kiss you with scraps.

“Yes,” he utters. “Kisses, orgasms, my dog. It’s all—”

Orgasms, not just sex. Orgasms.

“I get to take Bam?”

Jungkook tuts at you. “You get to take me,” he corrects you. “Though, can even such a little thing like you take me?”

Probably not. Definitely not.

“But what about Bam?”

He looks at you as if he couldn’t believe the words you’re saying, turning his head slightly to hear you better. Then, he scoffs, running his tongue across his lips swiftly, letting them express the enjoyment of your provocation by stretching into a smirk. He places his hand back on the right side of you, thinking over his words.

“Bam is mine, but you can pet him. You can kiss him.” You can hear the feigned venom in that word as he spits it and you grin, pleased with yourself. You enjoy doing this to him. “And if you’re good, I’ll let you take him out for his walkies.”

You gasp slowly, fingers absentmindedly gripping his thigh. Butterflies buzz you with a mere hint of arousal and to convey it, you wet your top lip with the tip of your tongue. The dominance, the principle of proving to him whether you’re deserving of something. Your heartbeat quickens, reaching for him with each swell.

Oh, you’ll be good. You’ll be good until he’s sick of it.

It seems he’s as pleased with himself as you were with yourself, reading your body language as he beams down at you, dimples poking holes in his cheeks. You want to stick your fingers there, pinch the skin at the corners of his mouth. Feel them, kiss them—

“Deal.”

Jungkook blinks at you. He most likely expected you to be difficult. You like the look of surprise on him. A sweet kind of glint perches itself upon his irises. You’re at awe of how he manages to be so adorable and alluring at the same time. You could never understand it. You deem he must be otherworldly.

“A kiss to seal the deal?” he tries, raising his brows, lowering himself to his elbows.

He skims his lips across your cheek, descending to your neck. Places one, singular kiss there. Lifts his head to hear your answer, a soft curtain of hair falling across his forehead.

You make a face as if you’re thinking about it.

Jungkook groans.

It’s cold, the way he turns away from you and it startles you—but then he slides his hands under your back and lifts you with ease, sitting you down on his lap. He moves you from the muscles on his thighs to the hardness of his intimate parts and you groan at the feeling of it. You’re wearing an airy short skirt with tights and knee socks underneath, the barrier so thin that you feel the solid, thick shape of him right under your femininity.

You rock against him once. Jungkook lets out a sound akin to yours, fingers flexing—hands almost reaching for your behind before he decides against it and keeps them planted against your back.

He desires your consent. And that makes you feel light-headed. Tipsy on the wholeness of him, on the pleasure coursing through your body.

You rock your hips again—and this time, Jungkook whimpers.

You take your hands and, slowly, you make a pathway down his chiseled chest. He twitches against you when your fingers pass by his nipples, his body following and squirming along. And once you reach the definition of his abdomen, your hands rise and fall against its quickening movement as his lungs heave. You’re mesmerized by his reaction to your touch. It’s as if it was his first time as well and something about that makes you woozy, savage and absolutely feline.

And something about the way you’re allowed to do as you please, whereas he’s not, strengthens that state of mind, enriches it, thoroughly worsens it.

You want him.

It began with a ring and ended right here.

And the process of your decision starts at his hips, finalizes at the pebbles of his nipples and finishes completely at the sides of his neck. He gives you the same, if not better, reaction, his manhood moving against you, and it’s settled.

The giving of virginity to seal the deal, not just a kiss.

Hovering your lips against his, you slip your hand to the place where you’re connected to feel up the shape of him. You moan onto him, vigorous power seizing you, propelling you to wrap your fingers around him. The breaths Jungkook emits are desperate, tortured, wafting over you, intoxicating you. It fills you with confidence unlike any other that you’re able to coax such a thing of beauty out of him—that you, the artist, have the upper hand momentarily while he doesn’t.

And he waits, depends on you. You want to cry due to how happy it makes you, due to the way it suffuses an empty part of you, left abandoned by someone who should’ve taken care of it a long, long time ago.

Because of that—if it’s kisses that he wants, you’ll give him as many as his body desires as a thank you.

“You’re so hard against me,” you whisper.

Jungkook grips your waist hard.

“If you want it, you have to seal the deal,” he mimics your intonation, voice deep, tingling your tummy.

“I want it.” You clutch both of your hands on his jawline, thumbs finding the invisible dimples.

“Kiss me, then.”

You whimper at the longing to do so. Your tummy clenches, butterflies inside swarm around and—

When you close your lips against his top lip, they burst into smithereens. Jungkook sighs in relief, enveloping you in his warmth.

The kiss is hungry. You expected his first taste of you to be careful, contemplative, but he goes all in. Takes charge of the lip lock, swallowing you whole, moving against you, uttering low sounds that make your head spin and you just comply. Accept that you’re the one who submits to his craving and you find yourself liking it; find yourself wanting to deepen your submission.

You wrap your legs around his waist, your head tilted as you reciprocate all of those hard kisses. When he comes up for air, he just gazes down at you, out of breath. One hand still on your back, the other cradles your cheek. There’s something puzzling in his eyes, as if he was fighting something within. You’re radiated by that energy, heavied down by it, letting him pet you like a puppy while you wait for the next step.

“You’re so good that I’m considering letting you take Bam out,” he breathes, curling a wisp of your hair behind your ear. “Sweet little thing.”

He pecks you once. You grind against his manhood and as he shortly groans onto your mouth, you splutter into giggles. Behind you, as if he heard him, the dog peeks his head out of the door, giving his Daddy a questioning look. Jungkook chuckles.

“Bam, house.”

The dog leaves and Jungkook sinks his fingers into your hair, sighing. Kisses you, again without tongue—only does what you’ve allowed him, but you overflow with the desire for more. He’s so considerate, so respectful and while you’re grateful for it, you want to break it. Your trust in him, made whole by all that he’s done for you, settled within you, made a bed in the sensitive parts of you that now shine. He doesn’t need to remain there—you want to go beyond that.

“Touch me, please.” You look up into his eyes as you say it, willing them to see with all your energy how much you want him.

He rubs soothing circles on your back. “If I touch you, I’ll fuck you, sweetheart.”

You lift your butt ever so slightly and bounce down on him, your skirt furling. Jungkook moans, pleasing you to the core. It’s bratty of you, but it serves him right for being so stubborn, so firm in his control. You want to break him.

“Can’t you see how much I want that?” you purr, bunching the cotton of his T-shirt in your fists.

He merely shakes his head, licking his lower lip, fucking with you. He tugs on one of your braided pigtail, the other hand gliding to your hipbone. “This little girl is horny? I couldn’t tell.”

A yellow light, sleepy in nature, spills through the blinds, latching onto the side of your neck. His eyes flick to it and his teeth sink into the wetness of his lip. He looks back at you when he says, “what was it that made you horny? The neck kisses?”

He straps both of his hands to your hipbones now, adjusting you so your sweetest spot rests against his cock, rocking your hips like he wants them to. He swallows down his noises, makes room for yours. You figure he wants to hear them.

You think about what made you horny. His respectful behavior. An electric spark spasms in your core at the memory and you roll your body against his at the impact—nipples pebbled, grazing below the hardness of his pecks. You moan loudly. He breathes heavily, can’t for the life of him contain that, gripping you with strength that will surely leave bruises. You add it to the list.

His control—the momentary, delicious lack of it, too. The dominance that follows it. His noises and how unrestrained he is when it comes to them. The allure and the attractive charm of his looks, blended with that insufferable cutesiness. His hard cock. The neck kisses, too, of course.

You summarize your answer and you tell him, “you.”

A hitch in his throat. “Fuck.”

Fuck, indeed. Fuck the steady rhythm—Jungkook speeds up your movement, the pace so fast your pigtails and your ribbons bounce, tits following suit. Your breath falls in step, moans echo within the walls of his room. He kisses you harshly, but that doesn’t silence you. He swallows your noises down, grunting.

“You wanna know what made me hard for you?”

You nod your head, lips forming a natural pout at the loss of contact.

“Those fucking pigtails of yours. The knee socks. How tiny you are in my hands. Seeing you lose your fucking mind when I kissed your neck. Those marks I left behind, hm, fuck yes. Those marks made me crazy,” he mutters, staring you down. “And you know what else?”

You wait for his answer as white flashes blind you, your roaring orgasm beckoning you close. He doesn’t stop rocking you against him, not once. Fills your brain with emptiness with his words coated wet by his dominant energy. You feel your own wetness soaking the fabric of your panties.

“Your brattiness,” he says. “I want to fuck it out of you and make a good girl out of you that won’t misbehave again with her smart words.”

A faint part of you, half affected by the pleasure he gives you, arises to stand up for you. “But I was good and you said so.”

He clicks his tongue, disapprovingly shaking his head. Slows down the pace so you’re able to hear him loud and clear, your orgasm backing away. “You see the thing is with little bratty girls like you, even when they act good for me, there’s still that dark little side of them that hides. Unless I fuck it out of them, they play with me. And trust me, I like the game until I don’t.”

You frown at him, but a moan betrays you. A fight throngs inside of you, his dominance yet again permeating you, causing you to flourish, but on the other hand, you don’t like being added to the mix. You want to be the only one—and it makes you angry that he had someone like you before you, that he even said it altogether. Though unfortunately, that’s something you can only keep to yourself.

The forming attachment breaks, splitting into two, with the knowledge that your wish is futile. You understand he said it for the sake of the role-play that you both naturally, wordlessly established through sexual attraction, but you still have a lot of getting used to within the dynamic. He’s experienced, you’re not. Though, when you think about it, he doesn’t know a thing about your purity. You never told him.

You blame yourself for your own pain. It’s your fault—you should’ve had a conversation with him about it before you let him do anything to you, instead of playing flirty games with him. You wouldn’t have gotten hurt, if he knew you were a virgin. The thought of what you’ve done stains you, makes you feel filthy, but you will it to kneel inside of you like a wounded animal. You need to be strong if you don’t want to storm out of his room in tears.

No attachment, no liking.

Just sex.

There’s still a frown to your face, despite the fact you set yourself free with your decision. Jungkook chuckles at it, oblivious to your internal storm.

“You didn’t like that, did you?” You didn’t like being compared to other girls he’d been with; there’s nothing to be said of the like about the role-play aspect. Being called bratty did rouse a moan out of you. “You prove my words right.”

You roll your eyes. Jungkook grips your ass hard and spanks you. As the sting reverberates, along with it comes the realization you got what you wanted.

You broke him.

And now you have to face the repercussions.

Good thing you’ve sobered up from the stupefaction of your arousal.

You cradle his face and kiss him deeply in effort to change the narrative. No feeling of affection from earlier hangs upon your heart and you find that it’s easier like this. No strings, no pain. It relieves you—so much that you sense a layer of lightness to your body and tiny, manageable tears well in your eyes. You get to enjoy this after all.

There’s radiance to your eyes, rooted in hope, and true softness to your words when you say, “I want you to fuck it out of me. I want you to be my first.”

You want to be different—your pride is uninfluenced by your decision. If he fucks it out of you, the new narrative you’re longing for will fully take place and make living through this bearable. You know you can’t have him the way you’d like, but if fate wrote that you’re to have him this way—you don’t mind altering it to the little desires you’re allowing yourself to have.

Once in a lifetime opportunity. You can’t lose it.

Jungkook is left astounded by your words, eyes widening, shock evident on his features. Like your words, he softens, unclenching his fingers from your suppleness, the darkness in his irises making a way for gentleness to come through. He rubs the small of your back, hands ascending to your spine, feeling the clip of your bra, until he finds the nape of your neck. He holds you there, tenderly, as if you were a porcelain doll he now was careful not to break.

The change in his demeanor is stark. It surprises you as well—and like everything that has happened within the hour, it isn’t something you expected from him. The emotion that emerges from the roundness of his eyes touches the hardness of your decision, tries to get through, pokes a gap inside, letting the light in.

He tucks his darkness back inside. Strokes the back of your head, the silky ends of your ribbons sifting through his slender fingers. You relax against him and your body does it for you. It welcomes his tenderness, glad for the truth to be out. You fight against it—against yourself, willing your decision not to break but remain firm.

No strings, no pain.

But to no avail. The light spreads. His light. Celestial twinkles of stars, small parts of him that make him who he is.

“You’ve never had anyone before me?” he husks, regret glossing over his eyes, holding your head firmly as he awaits your answer. More stars spill like liquid.

You shake your head ‘no’, your chest tightening.

He kisses you and there’s something different about the way he does it. Now you can sense the carefulness you searched for earlier and you taste the primal core of loving care in the movement of his lips. The kisses are long, deep. As if you’re a different person now, a girl unlike any of the ones he mentioned. Someone who matters, someone who’s solid. You’re back at the beginning.

A lump forms in your throat.

“You sure about this?” he asks.

One part of you, greater and illuminated by his stars, wants it gently like this, with flowers of innocence and purity besprinkled across his features, never leaving you out of his sight, taking care of you. But you fear that if you allow him to be tender, your heart will choose him again and cling to his side. The other, more faint part of you, affected by your decision, thinks it’s better to stick to the role-play, for there’s the aspect of illusoriness that will not bruise anyone’s hearts, especially not yours. It will make you horny, Jungkook will get you off and, glowing, you’ll go home.

You can’t decide. It’s too much of a heavy weight to bear on your shoulders. You can’t do it.

You need him to say the word. You need him to decide what will be the face of the trajectory of your premium friendship.

Flowery or deceitful?

A small candlelight in you hopes for gentleness and purity before your fear unfairly puffs it out.

“Yes, I’m sure. I want you.”

Jungkook lays you down and, at last, you feel his manhood against you. He bends to pepper apologetic kisses along the column of your neck and you feel the authenticity of his regret, thrumming against you warmly. Your breath hitches in your throat, the principle of the candlelight in you not being a high hope after all—

“I’m sorry. I should’ve gone about this better.” A kiss to your cheek; you stifle your sobs. “I should’ve checked in with you, but I jumped straight in. This was a mistake on my part. I’m sorry.”

He blames himself, not you.

You want to remain stoic, but his authenticity beckons yours to come out and envelop him whole, gives access to your emotions and you can’t stop the miniature teardrop from flowing down the side of your nose. Neither can you stop the words that follow its footsteps.

“I should’ve told you first,” you whisper, sniffling. Jungkook furrows his brows at the expression of your pain in tender emotion, wiping it away. “But I was bad—reckless.”

He chuckles softly, caressing your hair. “You’re an angel. Sent to my side for me. You weren’t bad. I didn’t mean what I'd said.”

His words, his touch, the kiss he adds to your cheek to punctuate his sentence—Jungkook erases everything that has just happened.

Newness rushes in your chest, the pouring of spring into summer permeates your whole being. You hear the birds sing, the rustle of flimsy flower petals on tree branches as the warm wind grazes it with its touch. Jungkook seals this feeling by pressing a kiss to your sternum.

He said it, so it must be so. You trust him.

The firmness of the cage around your decision unlatches. Doesn’t fly away like the birds. Is a little bit afraid of peeking out. The candlelight returns to light up the room around that cage, blossoming into the sun.

“We don’t have to do anything, if you don’t want to,” he says, looking up at you from the place where he dragged your top down to kiss your skin.

The sun rays in you absorb all of the darkness. The firmness extends one wing.

You run your fingers through his hair. Figure the only thing the summer in you is missing is the heat. You want him, you want sex and you don’t want to think about feelings or consequences. You don’t want to choose between anything anymore. You just want to enjoy yourself.

“I meant it when I said that I want you to be my first,” you say, fingers curling around his ear. Jungkook leans into your touch and it’s as if he’s massaging the wing to alleviate it from a cramp due to being tucked in for so long.

“Okay,” he sighs, taking your hands and pinning them on the pillow and bunny above your head. He sits up, examines you and you wonder if he can see how truly fragile you feel. “Do you trust me?”

He’s had half a year of going out with you, mingling his life with yours, spending money on you and treating you like an absolute treasure to build your overall trust. And what he did just now? How he erased your pain? Your nod is immediate; you don’t need to think twice.

“Of course I trust you.”

“Good.” A soft smile. “I’ll make sure your first time will be beautiful for you.”

Your heart thuds. His words steal all the breath in your lungs, smoothing out the surface of your body for his stars to fill. Tears prick at your waterline.

“Are you scared?”

You’re an empty canvas.

“Not anymore.”

Jungkook nods, gladness pulsating off of him. “I’ll be here the whole time. I won’t leave you, not even once, okay?”

“Okay.”

He finds the zipper on the side of your skirt and yanks it down. “How many times do you wanna come?”

The ridiculousness of the question makes you laugh and you hide your face beneath your palms. “To be honest, I don’t expect to come at all. It is my first time after all.”

You marvel at the honesty seeping out of you. His work, no doubt.

Jungkook frowns, ridding you of the skirt, fingers hooking under the hem of your top. At the reveal of your pink, flowery, see-through bra, he stops altogether, stunned. He fondles the material, grazing over your soft nipples, at last reaching the embroidery of the small petals. He gasps in wonder, eyes flicking to your intimate parts to see if you’re wearing a matching set.

The same flowers adorn the suppleness of your tummy.

Jungkook smiles at his discovery. Is hasty as he drags the nylon of your tights down your legs, along with your knee socks.

“I’ll decide how many times you come for me, then.”

Heat pools in your femininity. There it is, the dominance that you love. Yet this time, it’s laced with his gentleness. Heaven on earth—a meadow full of flowers in the middle of summer. Like the ones on your lingerie.

Joy grasps your heart. “Do I get to know before you start?”

Jungkook chuckles, pressing a kiss on your tummy. “What, you wanna count them down for me?”

You asked just because, but the idea excites you. You nod.

Your response prolongs the rumble of his laughter and you feel its vibration as he kisses his way up to your clothed breasts. You’d think he’d focus his attention on them, but he straightens—reaches for something behind him and retrieves your white knee socks. He bunches them in his hands and puts them on you as if he were dressing a child.

Paradoxically, goosebumps spread all over your thighs.

Smoothing the material over your thighs, he lies back down against you, lips latching on the spillage of your breasts that your bra gives him. While it feels dizzying, you still want to know the number. You poke him in the bulging muscle of his arm and in the process, you flush his cheeks red.

Jungkook pushes your tits together and licks over the line in the middle. The sight of the shine of his wet tongue against it drenches your pussy, ruining your pretty underwear, and you want him there, on your sweetest spot. Your nipples stand to attention and Jungkook listens to their call, thumbs brushing across them.

You mewl, grinding your hips against his stomach.

“Two times when I eat you out; two times around my cock,” he answers finally, awakening your butterflies. “How many times is that, then?”

Amidst the pleasure, you do the math. “Four.”

“That’s right. You think you can do that for me?”

You’re not sure. In fact, you’re not sure of anything—lost in his touch, in his energy.

“I don’t know,” you say, truthfully, skimming his face for a sliver of disappointment in his features.

You find none. Only tenderness—round, soft eyes, brown in the light he radiates, nose and mouth buried in your tits, sucking on the skin, making you feel good.

“That’s okay. We’ll try together. Nothing bad is gonna happen to you if you don’t come as many times. Or at all. I promise.”

Your chest clenches. You grab his face and kiss him, licking over his bottom lip before you slip your tongue inside. Jungkook grunts, rolls his own muscle over yours, tasting you, feeling you. He inhales sharply against you, once again taking charge of the kiss, taking each and every thought and negative feeling you had and crushing it to smithereens.

He lifts you and switches places with you, sitting you down on his lap with your back supported by his chest. He roams his hands all over you—tits, tummy, hips, sides and thighs while he busies his mouth on your shoulder. As your eyes follow each movement, you notice the marks he embellished your breasts with and your arousal grows—so much that you take his wandering hands and hook them under the waistband of your underwear, guiding them down your thighs.

There’s a change to his breath when his index and middle finger feels up the fleshiness of your cunt for the first time. Hard, raggedy and absolutely tormented. He glides those digits up and down your dewiness, listening for the squelching sound that makes his cock twitch beneath you.

He moans onto your neck, nose tracing the column on its way to your ear. “How do you touch yourself?”

A sudden shyness overtakes you and you turn your head, needing to hide in his neck this time. You remain silent, the words lodged in your throat.

Jungkook sees you.

“Do you rub your little clit from side to side or in circles?” he questions, helping you answer.

“I—I like both,” you whisper onto his skin, moving your hips so his fingers slip to your clit, the sweet spot where you need him the most. He grabs the back of your thigh and lifts it, spreading you open, meanwhile you chase the firmness of his fingers.

“Just like that, ride them,” he husks, eyes dazed, fixed on the roll of your pelvis. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

Head on top of yours, you nod, never ceasing your movement, transfixed, just like him, by the constant way the pads of his fingers fondle your clit before dipping between your lips. The heat of the summer tightens in your lower belly and it’s a desperate litany of begging what your mouth utters, despite the fact you’re not really sure what you’re asking for, but you let him hear it. You’re close, so unbelievably close, yet still have a road to walk on before you, and you close your eyes to feel the delight of his touch more deeply, only to find that you manage to do nothing of the kind.

When you sense his eyes on you and by instinct you reciprocate his stare, that’s when you feel the depth you sought after. Mouth parted, pupils dilated, eyelashes a drowsy catastrophe, messy hair casting a soft shadow over the planes of his blissed-out face. You want to kiss him. You want to make him feel as good as he’s making you feel—

“Let me do it now,” Jungkook says hurriedly, sensing the nearness of your climax.

“Yes,” you croak out, halting the movement of your hips—and ‘yes’ is the word that ripples out of your mouth a hundred, a thousand more times when he spreads you wider and rubs his fingers on your clit from side to side.

He feels the pleasure in sync with you, accepting all of your yes’, twisting his face the moment yours does, quickening the rapidness of his hand once he switches to circles to carry you to your summer-breathed paradise.

And when you come all over his hand, he slips two fingers inside your hole.

He stills the buck of your hips.

You widen your eyes at the new feeling of fullness and, panicking and constricting around him, you look at Jungkook, who merely strengthens his hold around you.

“Trust me,” he says, breathing heavily. He doesn’t move his fingers past his first knuckles; he lets you adjust to the size. Gives you a kiss full of tongue to distract you. “Does it burn?”

You begin to pant against his mouth, the high of your orgasm long gone. You’re uncertain to count it as one when it was so short lived, ruined by the sudden plunge of his digits. But much to your surprise, you don’t detect any burn in your walls that he speaks of, which you realize was his intention.

“No, it just feels a bit uncomfortable.”

He kisses you again. You feel your lips go numb, eyes lidding at the pressure you feel as he sinks his fingers a little bit deeper and begins to move them sluggishly, your slick creating another ring for him around his fingers. You try to meet his thrusts as the visceral sensation of being filled by longer, thicker fingers settles within you and takes roots. You discover that movement is the key to parting the uncomfortable feeling and it steps to the side to let the pleasure walk forward.

Jungkook presses his palm flat against your clit, guides the pleasure to envelop your body when he plunges his fingers deeper, past the second knuckles and fucks you in swift jerks. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan and he fills in the sound, expressing his fiery delight for you at the clench of your walls against him, accommodating for him, for his desire to stretch you out, so when he finally enters you, no pain comes to greet you.

Deeper and harder—yes, that’s what feels good. You roll your body, becoming waves of the sea as wetness and the build up of pleasure—seafoam—is all your senses wrap around.

“Feels good, baby?”

His need to check in with you speeds up the nearing expansion of your orgasm. Pointer and pinky finger digging into the skin of your backside, you watch the in and out motion, the digits coming out wetter and wetter each time.

“Feels so fucking good. I’m gonna come. I’m so close.”

It’s quicker. Way quicker than your first tiny orgasm. He slips in and out of you so smoothly—you’re obsessed with the sight, ravaged by it entirely. You grind your hips and fuck yourself back, picking up the pace but slowing down instantly when you feel yourself at the peak of your climax.

You want to prolong it. You love the feeling too much to end it too soon.

Jungkook stops your movements fully.

“I want to be the one who makes you come,” he murmurs. “I want to be the one who fucks your brain out. I want to feel you squeeze around my fingers. Fuck, I want it so bad.”

His hand drifts to your neck just to hold you there, the other, the busy one, fingers you harder, your fast approaching orgasm blinding your senses. Your drenched cunt squelches around him, the sound so lewd it causes you to seek comfort—your hand flies to his on your throat, fingers wrapping around his wrist, the tip of your pointer reaching the fat bulb of bunny’s head on his ring.

Harder and faster. A scalding fire burns you and you just take it. Loll your head back against his shoulder, giving him the space to grip your jawline. Flames grow closer and closer, leaving a layer of sheen on your body in its wake. You feel the sudden need to pee.

“Oh my god, Gguk—” Your muscles tense. Close, so close. “Gguk, Gguk—”

“What, baby? What’s the matter?” he husks, squeezing your neck once. “You’re gonna come for me? Gonna come on my fingers?”

You nod quickly, too quickly. Flames of the sun, licking you. Flames of the summer heat. Just what you wanted.

Jungkook opens your jaw, swirling his tongue around yours. “Let go. Come for me. You can do it, I got you—I got you. Come for me, baby, please.”

Obeying his desperate order, you do.

A small stream of your pleasure, a faint fountain, trickles out of you and into his hand. He gasps, in unison with your whimpers, and you’re transmitted elsewhere. The wildly colorful, blooming meadow on a hill, overlooking the languorous sea and he’s there. Reaches behind himself. Offers you his hand. The wind ruffles his black hair, sweeps it back and you’re giddy—as giddy as Bam, as giddy as you were in the moment the slid the white bunny ring on your finger—to take the last two of his slender fingers, the pinky and the ring, and sit with him by the edge of the cliff.

“Did so well for me.”

The whisper takes you back and you awake.

You’re different. Incandescent. Of life, of stars and its light, of growing fondness for the man you sit perched on the lap of, whose fingers still remain sheathed inside of you. He changed you. Perpetually, absolutely. He changed you and made you into something new. Something that is softer, more elegant—smaller but assertive. Alluring and kind. Indisputably good.

He fucked everything negative out of you with his fingers. Left the vast canvas of stars inside of you.

You’re no longer a plain spread of cotton, but a living, breathing artwork. His artwork.

Once he fucks you with his cock, you wonder what further internal changes are going to occur within you.

You feel a great deal of gratitude for him—and you want to reciprocate all that he’s done for you. You want to work hard at it. Spoil him. Make him whimper. You believe he deserves it.

“You finger yourself often? How come you took my fingers so well, hm?”

You’re panting, unable to speak. Absorbing the sharpness of the stars, acclimatizing to the change.

“I guess you do, huh?” he deduces. “Good little girl, preparing herself for me.”

For the life of you, you can’t catch your breath.

Jungkook kisses your cheek deeply. Pecks you on the same spot a hundred times, slowly taking out his fingers. Lets you see your slick coating his fingers and, softly, you gasp at the little ripples of wrinkles upon the tips of his fingers, mouth parting.

And then he sinks them into your mouth.

His hardness twitches behind you and you moan, your daintily bittersweet taste making your head spin. And when you look at him, you’re met with the utmost pink-dusted adoration painted on his face. You kiss it, inhaling it, letting it flow into your system so it suffuses your bloodstream, letting him taste you. You may not feel your lips, but the sentient poetry of the stars begins to sing in you. His stars. You feel like a flushed floweret visited by a bee. Spent, but happy.

Happy to be wanted.

Good, because he said you were.

As if internally intertwined with him, you feel the identical heat tinge your cheeks.

He says nothing as he lays you down and spreads your legs back to the way they were. Though when he’s graced with the sight of your bare cunt in all her glory, his face says everything that his mouth isn’t capable of. Hunger and torture—lips agape, corners of the mouth shiny with the rush of drool and Jungkook wipes it away, then lowers his fingers to your clit, to your lips, becoming more acquainted with this intimate part of you that no one had seen before him. He traces your small hole, even going as far as to your other, tinier hole and you yelp, stopping his exploration.

Jungkook merely chuckles, eyes darting to yours. “You’re so pretty.” You grow so hot that you think you must be on fire. “Especially there.”

You mewl, shrinking, hands looking for anything to hold and finding his bunny plushie. You take her into your arms, inhaling a scent that could never be hers. You recognize immediately whose it is.

Musk, vanilla, wood.

The thought of Jungkook cradling her while he sleeps moves you and you pout.

“How we feeling?” he asks, still caressing your fleshy cunt, dripping with dew.

Overjoyed. Overstimulated.

Heavenly.

“Good.”

A foxy smile. “How many orgasms was that, hm?”

You don’t know where your shyness comes from and why it chokes all of the words you want to say. You bury your face in bunny for a moment, taking a breath to fight against it, so you can please him because that’s all you yearn to do.

You open your mouth, but no words come out.

Jungkook stifles a laugh and it makes you feel terrible. And it’s worse when he leans over to kiss you, turns his head at the last moment and faces bunny.

“Bunny, how many times did she come?” he asks her, offering her his ear to hear her answer. Looks at you. Widens his eyes. Gasps. “Two,” he mouths. Listens some more. Nods. “I know she thought she wouldn’t come at all. Crazy, right?” Then he lets out an endearing sound. “She said she’d believed you could do it the moment you said it. She’s so happy for you. How cute,” he coos.

You giggle, the bridge in your throat loosening, light flooding you, over and over, until you think you can’t take any more of it. You feel so full, so happy and the sensation threatens to pour out of your tear ducts.

It heals something within you—that he treats you like this at your most vulnerable state. Your inner child flares, the stars the strength that fixes her stoop, helping her arise, stand straight, stand powerfully.

He smiles down fondly at you. “So what number are we at?”

You hide your face behind your hands. “Two.”

“What did you say? I didn’t catch that.”

You drop your hands and with as much energy as you can muster, you repeat the number.

He purrs, caressing your cheek. “Good girl.” As a reward, as if the praise wasn’t enough, he kisses you deeply. “Will you let me taste you?”

You swallow his desire, but speak up your own, “I want to taste you first, please.”

Jungkook hums, curses under his breath. He straightens and kneels before your form, fingers pinching the back of his T-shirt and pulling it over his body. You catch the sight of his broad shoulders, of each dip and muscle, and your irises grown in width. Him ridding himself of his clothes dishevels his hair and as he untangles his arms from the material, he smiles down at you, noticing your stare.

He caresses the back of your thigh before his hand flies to his hard length. He palms himself once, then continues to undress—tugs his sweatpants down to his knees, though he doesn’t bother himself to fully take them off. The shape of him is more prominent through the fabric of his white Calvins, the bulge of his mushroom wet and pellucid, and you sit up, hand itching to touch him, to join his in making him feel good, but he cups your chin—forcing you to look up at him.

He swipes his thumb over your lips. “You want it?”

You nod. “So bad.”

Jungkook curses again, the sound low and rough.

“Touch it,” he orders and both of your hands listen, wrapping around his girth, squeezing beneath the head of his cock. The thickness of him makes you see the light of the stars that you sense fluttering feverishly inside of you. Your mind is too empty, too washed out by your orgasm, by the change that you don’t even think about how you’re going to take him. Jungkook hisses, tilting his head back before he looks down at you intently. “You did this before?”

You’ve never seen one in real life before, let alone touched one.

“I’ve never let anyone get this close.”

Jungkook strokes your pigtails. “How come you know what to do then?”

Instinct or memory from porn you watched—you don’t know, it all blends together within the fuzziness of your mind. And you tell him.

“I watch a lot of porn.”

Jungkook smiles coyly and it strikes you. You’ve never seen him smile this way before or, even, feel this way before. All you know from him is dominance, dominance and dominance.

You release him from the confines of his boxers and repress your gasp. His ever glistening tip reaches just below his navel and the thickness of his girth obscures most of his pubic hair. Along with the sound of your surprise, you also have a hard time swallowing the saliva collecting in your mouth.

“I want you so bad,” you whisper, needy eyes looking up at him. Shy, too shy to let your gaze linger at the most intimate part of him.

He sucks in a breath at your words, hissing. And you need him inside of you all over again.

Fuck fuzzines in your mind. You’re fuzzy all over. Wrecked with nerves, suddenly. Your hands tremble, hovering in front of his manhood. Jungkook covers them with his, soothing you, and guides you to his shaft. Wraps your fingers around him. Doesn’t let go.

The feel of him under his supervision is slow. He allows you to take in every ridge of him, every vein—the softness of his skin, the warmth and the weight. Round after round, up and down, until you get familiarized with him. A trickle of his male essence drips down the side of him and your tongue instinctively darts out. Like your hands, Jungkook’s breath shakes and he anticipates your next move, despite the fact he’s in charge.

He’s been patient all this time, giving you the time you needed. But that hardly applies when you have him in your hands, when you own his neediness. His whimpers while he waits coax your slick out of you, soaking the bedding beneath you and you can’t take it anymore.

Neither, evidently, can he.

“Baby, please,” Jungkook croaks out. Tortured, so terribly tortured. Grip tight and clammy around your hands.

So vulnerable.

You ache.

You lick up a stripe of his essence on the side of his cock and Jungkook shudders. Shifting onto your knees, you show him the milkie on the tip of your tongue and Jungkook pulls your hair, tilting your head back. Kisses you nastily, licking into your mouth. Moans, lowly. Then, he holds his girth at the base and pushes your head.

When you take him, a mewl ripples around the thickness of him. His eyes roll back and his grasp of your hair tightens, burning your scalp, adding to the fire. He lets you feel it out; lets you figure out what to do, testing your knowledge from the porn you’ve watched. And the tensing of his stomach divulges his strained effort not to fuck your mouth.

You go slow about it. Swirling your tongue around that rosy head of his, along that delicious ridge, licking a flat stripe across that line of his slit. Getting to know him in all those intimate places, relying on your senses—on them to tell you what he likes. Your hand begins to move on its own, gliding back and forth in tandem with your tongue stimulating his sensitivity. You try not to think about how you can barely fit him in your mouth, because if you do—you’ll ruin his bedsheets.

But then Jungkook hums in approval, sending a gush of wetness out of you and you whimper—you whimper at the worsening ache you feel, at the helplessness that pools in your system by being just so filthily wet and horny.

He moves your hand faster. Breath jagged, bedroom eyes zeroing down on you. And then—

Jungkook moans your name. Over and over, clenching and unclenching his hand on the back of your head.

“Don’t have to teach you shit,” he spits. “You just watch porn all day, don’t you? Naughty girl.”

Losing control for a split second, he rams his cock into your throat—and you don’t panic, you don’t yelp. Instead, you groan.

He pulls you away from him with a sharp tug. Kisses you harshly. Shoves you down into the pillows with one push on your sternum.

Bending you in half, he drinks your cunt. Lips immediately suck on your needy bundle of nerves and it’s so fast you don’t even know which part of you he’s focusing on because he’s everywhere. Clit, hole, clit, hole—sucking, licking. Alternating, alternating so swiftly and deliciously that you completely lose your mind.

And then he lifts your hips and holds them in the air, wanting you to see what he’s doing to you. Like you, he darts out his tongue and teases you, hovering the muscle above your clit. Shiny, nimble, capable of doing unspeakable things to you. He watches as your pussy drools for him and he chuckles darkly. Tongue lowering to collect it, but unlike you he never does it. He lets the dew trickle down your skin.

“Cute little pussy. So wet. Wetter than when I fucked it. You liked playing with me on your knees, didn’t you?”

With your fucked out brain, you don’t think it’s taunting what he’s doing. You deem it’s just him reveling in what he’s able to do to your body—in the fact that he owns it, that he teaches it new things. The glint in his dusky, lustful eyes proves it.

Jungkook drags a long stripe on your clit, making your eyes flutter closed and your teeth to sink into your bottom lip to cage in your moans.

“Talk to me.”

You can’t. You don’t know how to talk.

He stares you down.

No answer from you. Just hard pants. Pussy drooling.

“I won’t play with you, then.”

Panic. “No.”

He cocks a brow at you. “No?”

Silence.

He begins to lower you down but you grip his forearm.

“Jungkook.”

Bent over above you, head low, he merely flicks his eyes to yours. Duskiness, such blackening duskiness in those orbs.

“Beg.”

All your muscles tense. Wetness gushes out of you.

Lucky for you, that word he wants is the one you haven’t forgotten.

“Please.”

“Please what?”

You groan in frustration.

“Be nice or—”

“Please, lick me.”

That dark chuckle. You feel yourself becoming obsessed with it.

“Where?”

A challenge. Your throat dries up.

“There.”

He shakes his head disapprovingly, making a sound that expresses just how much he didn’t like that.

“Try again. Last chance, little girl.”

The loving smile on his face says everything about how that threat is feigned. You hear it tell you—you have as many chances as you need. He’s merely encouraging you to step out of your comfort zone.

And something about that mellow, hidden kindness gently ushers you to do just that.

“Lick my clit, please.”

A hum. A long stripe on that sensitive, thumping spot. A roll of his tongue forward and backward.

“Like this?”

You choke out a moan.

“Yes, please.”

“Or—” He blows on you, causing you to tremble. “Like this?”

He shakes his head against you briskly, not yet at a full tilt. Just like his, your body shudders in his hands and he tightens his grip on your supple hips. You can’t take it, the pleasure is overwhelming and—

“Look at me,” he orders and you open your eyes, immediately. “Like this?”

Jungkook adds more pressure and rapidness to the movement, leaving you glazed sweetly in the sheen of his saliva. He moves your hips up and down on the firmness of his tongue and you scream, taking a strong hold of his hair.

“Oh my god, yes, fuck, Daddy—”

Shocked, Jungkook groans against your pussy, slowing down to ingest what your mouth has just uttered. It’s more than natural to call him by a title like this, instinctual, innate. It fits him so well and it drenches your pussy, your slick amalgamating with his liquid love. You’re certain he feels the rush.

Your Daddy.

You roll your hips against his tongue. Dark and more dark, those eyes of his. Bottomless pit.

“Fuck yes, call me Daddy again.”

The whimpers you let out are pathetic and Jungkook shudders at them, groaning. You whine the title over and over again, a verdant, dreamlike litany of your feminine sexuality pampered, cared for, supervised. Jungkook accepts the gravity of it all, each declaration propelling him to suck your clit harder, bruises forming on your hips from his deathly grip, black eyes never leaving yours, hypnotizing you.

And when you come like this, it’s unification what happens.

You’re bound to him and he’s bound to you.

Daddy and little girl.

Throughout your sexual experience today, you had a hard time accepting things but this—this is something that slept inside of you all your life and just now has been awoken to a flickering canvas of bright stars. You feel it blink, adjust to the piercing light, before it smiles dolefully—happy to be conscious, happy to be caressed.

Jungkook kisses you and takes his time. The taste of your femininity, the fresh coldness of your change, the strong wine of his desire. You’re drunk. You’re slurring your mewls.

And one thing about unification, it’s a mirror.

You swallow down the same mewls, uttered by his throat.

“Daddy’s gonna give it to you,” he whispers, adjusting between your legs. “Will be gentle. You’re safe with me.”

He rakes the tip of his length along the entirety of your little sea-kissed seashell.

“You want it? You want Daddy’s cock inside of you?”

Jungkook looks into your eyes deeply as he asks you that question, the tip ready at your significantly smaller hole. He peppers kisses along your jawline and chin.

“I’m scared it’ll hurt,” you murmur, brows furrowed.

He kisses your cheek, the corner of your mouth.

“We’ll chase the pain away,” he promises.

Your frown deepens.

“But what if it doesn’t fit?”

You expect him to chuckle, but he does no such thing. He absorbs your worry by kissing you tenderly. Then he glances at your body. Remembers he never took off your bra and fixes his mistake.

“You may be small, but you were made to take me,” he says and your heart skips a beat; you wonder if he understands the gravity of his words as they take roots within you, rising to bloom into splendid flowers. “Besides, my dick is tiny. You won’t even feel it.”

It is so far from the truth that you burst into giggles. He laughs along with you—a mirror reflected.

Stars and flowers. Sea and freshness. You were made to take him. You trust him.

He kisses your breasts, licking over your nipple—but briefly. Holding his shaft, he asks if you’re ready. You nod, your fingers desperately searching for his and Jungkook notices. Sinking slowly inside of you, he grabs his bunny plushie and tucks her into the crook of your elbow.

There’s a pinch of pain, blended with the feeling of discomfort as your walls stretch around his head.

Seeing it painted on your face, Jungkook draws close, enveloping you and bunny in his heat. Pushes a little more in. You wail softly, the pain intensifying. Fear intermingles with your features and Jungkook—the worry in his countenance makes you almost weep.

“Hold onto me,” he says, brows scrunched, so—so serious. “Relax, baby. I got you.”

You hook your arms around his neck, bunny sandwiched between your chest and his. Jungkook saves this time to let you adjust around him.

“I know it hurts,” he whispers onto your mouth, index finger, the ringed one, stretching to graze your cheek. “Just relax your muscles for me. It’ll feel good soon.”

You nod, trusting him.

He pecks you. Smiles.

“How many orgasms are we at?”

You roll your eyes, your own smile threatening your lips. “Three.”

Jungkook hums. Pecks you again. You feel your walls loosening, little by little.

A smug smirk. “You didn’t expect that, did you?”

“You obliterated my expectations.”

“Just wait until I fuck you properly.”

You blush, eyes twinkling.

“Pretty girl.” He kisses you and you feel your attachment forming again, though this time—newly. As light, as free as an entanglement of seaweed upon seashore, you and him. Connected. Bound. No fear, not even a hint of it. “I heard you watch porn.”

Your flush deepens. Jungkook sinks a little deeper. A faint pain—nothing bad.

“Who told you?” You laugh, the sound ridding you of your shyness.

But Jungkook grows solemn.

“Tell me what kind you watch,” he whispers, angling his head to give you a tiny kiss.

Your cheeks hurt from the smiling, from the onrush of emotions within you, sloshing to and fro. You feel hot all over.

“The one where all the focus is on the girl,” you whisper back. “The guy uses all kinds of toys on her and she just takes it. Comes so many times and there’s a countdown for it.”

Humming, he begins to nibble on the skin beneath your jaw, making your breath shallow. He pushes in another inch—and the pain is worse. You tighten your grip around him.

“And how many times do you come when you watch it?” Deep, deep is his voice, the calmness to your nerves due to the pricking you feel.

“I don’t stop coming.”

Jungkook swears under his breath and clenches his digits into a fist beside your head.

“And you finger yourself?”

You nod, confidently. Another inch. He smiles at your confirmation of his deduction.

“How many fingers?”

You scoff. “Just one.”

“Well done,” he praises, kissing you once, keeping his mouth on you even as he asks, “ready?”

You nod, again, even though there’s fright to your eyes. He sees it and he brushes his eyelashes against your eyelids while he kisses you, taking it all away. And he doesn’t stop, even as he pulls out and thrusts back into your heat. Gently, so awfully gently.

He didn’t break his promise.

Jungkook rocks his hips in slow, sensual, prolonged staccatos, moaning into your parted mouth. You’re so focused on him—on the bulging of his muscles on the either side of your head, the broadness of his shoulders, the slick sweat dripping down his neck, right from the top of his tattoo; on the sheerness of his pleasure as he moves in and out, carefully so as to not frighten you, that the pain quickly subsides.

And there you feel it.

The sensation unlike any other.

He rams into you, seeing the wrinkle between your brows smoothing, the lust clouding your eyes as the delight spreads all over your body, bringing along little dots of goosebumps. The night sea, windless, still hot from the afternoon’s goodbye kiss. You feel it—and you feel it deeply, sinking inside of you with every inch of his manhood. So much that you meet his thrusts.

“That’s it, baby. Fuck yes,” Jungkook murmurs, enraging the waves within. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Being fucked?”

Stars and its light. He picks up the pace, hooking your leg over his shoulder, entering you deeper and deeper, giving you more than half. The thrill of feeling so full—you curse, you moan, you can’t hold it in, even if you tried. And Jungkook coos at your conveyance of the pleasure he’s giving you, never lifting his eyes off of yours, off of your features, your emotions. Surveying you, controlling you, making sure you’re okay—more than okay.

You sense the pressure coil deep within your core, the sense of your climax approaching and you’re astonished at how quick it is. You halt your own movements, needing—wanting him to be the one to get you there, the one who owns your orgasms.

“Gguk, Gguk, fuck—”

“I know,” he breathes. “I’m gonna make you come all over my cock.”

He fucks you harder, making you cry out. Deep, deep staccatos, so different from the slow, languid ones. You can’t catch your breath, the sea within you sloshes violently and then—

Softly, you sprinkle him with your fountain of pleasure. Not enough to drive him out, but sweetly enough to force him to groan against you and pound you harder into the mattress. Continuing as if you hadn’t come.

You don’t have the time or the space to think about what just happened—he fucks each and every thought of you.

“My little squirter,” Jungkook mutters, kissing you. “One more, baby. One more for me and I’ll paint you with my cummie. Hm, you want that?” You’re gone, flung out of this world into a tranquil island. The palm trees, the sea and his cock. Your emotions are numb, body limp. All you feel is his cock, ramming and ramming into you. “Or you wanna swallow it for me like a good girl?”

“Swallow, please,” you croak out and Jungkook makes a sound of approval. Rewards you by giving you the full thing, filling you balls-deep.

“You feel me?” He kisses you, tugging your bottom lip with his teeth.

Glorious, glorious delight. You can’t breathe. Too much.

“I feel you—” You lift your head to look down where you’re connected. “I—I feel you in my stomach.”

Sitting back, he lifts your hips and palms the bulge just a little bit above your mound. Feels it move under him once he resumes fucking you. He replaces his hand with yours, keeping you distracted as he undoes the ribbon in your hair and ties your wrists with it. Right there above the bulge, where he fucks you. Then he latches onto your hips and jackhammers his cock into you, watching as your tits along with bunny bounce with each slam.

“You look so pretty like this, tied up for me, taking all that I’m giving you,” he says, thumbing your clit, making you cry out. “Such a good fucking girl for me. I’m bringing you up so well.”

“Daddy,” you call out and Jungkook nods.

“Yes, that’s right. Daddy is fucking you so good.”

White flashes. Seafoam. The pressure in your tummy deepening and deepening. The roar of the night sea and your body following—you come all over him, painting him iridescent with your dewiness. His joggers, dragged halfway down his thighs, his boxers are all ruined—pelvis, thighs and cock glistening. It’s such a beautiful image to you that it suffuses you with energy and you begin to speak.

“Please, come for me.”

Surprised, Jungkook chuckles. “Don’t you have orgasms to count down?”

The ever persistent need for control. You kiss him, slip your tongue into his mouth to shut him up and you struggle against your ribbon, for the feeling of kissing him without your hands makes you feel iffy.

“Five. I came five times for you just like you wanted,” you whisper. “You fucked me so good. I’ll never forget it.”

And it’s the truth.

Jungkook pecks you once deeply, humming into the kiss. He pulls out of you and whilst he strokes his cock, his fingers tug down the ribbon around your wrists. You take your place on your knees, gazing with awe and hunger at his shiny length. And as if he needed it, he plunges his fingers into your mouth for more lubrication. Then, grabbing your jawline gently, he pulls you in towards his cock, letting your lips play with his tip the way you like it as he jerks himself off. You flick your tongue under the ridge of his head and his length twitches, stunning you. You do it again, more rapidly, and you don’t stop until Jungkook begins to tremble. Pulling him inside your mouth, then out, flicking faster and faster. Repeat.

Jungkook grunts.

“Yes, like that, princess. Fuck, I’m gonna come for you.”

He announces it, but it still comes as a surprise when the first rope of hot cum spills onto your flushed cheek. You suck him harder for a moment before you stick out your tongue, eyes flick up, as he empties his balls for you, his hand never ceasing the swift tug on his length.

And he just keeps coming. Rope after rope. Liquid star after star.

And you swallow it all.

Spent, sweaty and breathless, he helps you swallow it. Dragging his fingers to the places your tongue can’t reach, he feeds you his cum and you suck on his digits. Your heart thuds in your ribcage, especially when he begins to play with your tongue, smiling down at you in that dopey way.

He pats you on the cheek once you show him you’ve swallowed it all.

“Good girl. Good little princess.”

That you are. A changed person for all eternity.

“Is your tummy full?”

You nod, beaming vehemently up at him, the aftertaste of the bitterness of his liquid stars still wafting through your senses.

The three forbidden words rise in your tongue, even though you don’t believe them—you think it’s just the opulence of new emotions and experience that forces those words on your tongue. But they remain adamant when he bathes you clean, when he brushes your hair and gives you his clothes to wear to bed. They provoke you right there on the tip of your tongue when he gives you his zipper hoodie to wear on his balcony once you tell him you need a smoke and he joins you, giving you his pack of cigarettes.

And they come off the edge, in a different form, when you tell him of how he changed you while you hold his hand and he caresses your damp strands with a cigarette propped between his index and middle fingers, kissing your cheek. The smoke fixes a makeshift halo around both of your heads. One body, one halo. Bound.

“You’re such a lovable person, Gguk.”

What you don’t know is that those mere words changed the entire trajectory of his life. Yours, too.

BACK to masterlist / read part one, read part two, part three

#jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #btscreatorscorner #kpop smut #jungkook one shot

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charmercharm3r · 11 months

Text

steady streams

Masterlist

8/8 of The Sleepwear Series

wc: 4k

Synopsis: Sometimes, the dead of night is the only time you get him all for yourself.

warnings: smut, explicit sexual content, fluffy bf!chan, genderneutral!reader, unprotected sex, handjob, oral, light choking, talk of pleasuredom!chan hehehehe, reader crying during sex but nothing bad!! they just luuuuvvvvv each other so much..pretty tame

Chan is a man already spread way too thin, mind in a million places, phone always just in reach, shoulder so weighed down by his duties that sometimes he feels like a fucking zombie. And he admits, sometimes he thinks he actually is. But hey, it puts food on the table and keeps a decent amount of change in his pocket.

That’s why you always made sure he left all of that outside the door when he came home. Chan was grateful you didn’t ever let him sulk for too long, or let him leave early in the morning on an empty stomach– those meal preps in the fridge are life savers for his incredibly long days.

It was another one of those days, drainingly long and so, so far away from you. Another thing that weighed on him, he felt like the world’s worst boyfriend for spending so much time at work and only being able to see you so late into the night when he came home. In all honesty, it did suck, of course it did. But you understood him and his workaholic lifestyle, and dating him turned you into a night owl as well.

Judging by his lack of enthusiasm in his texts, he just wanted to get home. So you opted to pick him up in the wee hours of the morning instead of him taking a taxi, sending him a quick notice and a few comforting hearts.

Chan was waiting outside the building by the time you’d gotten there and let out the loudest sigh as soon as he sat in the passenger seat. You were thankful for the lack of traffic on the corner of the street because he threw his bag in the backseat and leaned over the center console to take you into an exhausted embrace. He still smelled so good, musky but somehow the vanilla lingered on his clothes and skin, you couldn’t help taking in a deep breath of the scent as you hugged him back. “You okay, hon?” You cooed, voice muffled by how tightly he held you. Only receiving a groan in response, you laughed lightly and kissed the part of his body you could without breaking away.

He held on for a bit longer until he’d had his fix, pulling away but keeping content with his hand in yours. The drive home was pleasantly quiet, your late night playlist softly playing in the background while Chan kept his eyes closed and head rested back, occasionally rubbing his thumb into your hand to tell you he was still awake because of course he was.

Getting back home as you unlocked the door, he let his forehead fall against your shoulder from behind for a moment. You say nothing, leading him in and tossing all your belongings down before Chan could follow suit.

“What do you need from me tonight, baby?” The gentle nature of your voice was already calming as it was, but your open arms were even more inviting. As if the hug in the car wasn’t enough, Chan leaned his head into your neck and encased you in his arms, intent on not letting go. He didn’t need to explicitly tell you that he needed the physical affection, he always wanted it, but it never hurt to ask.

“Need to shower,” he murmured back as his arms slithered tighter around your torso and crushed your bellies against each other.

“Eat something small and I’ll get it started.” Hands in his hair, you knew he wasn’t going to let you go easily now that your nails raked against his scalp.

“‘M not hungry. Stay with me,” Chan’s voice was low while pulling far enough just so he could peck your cheek and trail his lips to yours for a chaste, longing kiss. He moaned against you, practically melting in your arms.

You barely nodded before he was blindly leading you towards your ensuite bathroom, the same route you’d make a million times a day that either of you could do in your sleep if you’d gotten any. Clothes were strewn about the pathway through the bedroom door, past the perfectly made bed, and into where the steamy oasis awaited. Granted, it took a minute to get it the right temperature, but Chan just couldn’t stand the wait. He dragged you into the shower before it was hot enough and bore the burden of standing in the lukewarm stream just so he could have an excuse to hold you skin to skin.

There couldn’t have been less space between your bodies but it still didn’t feel like enough for him. All he wanted was in his arms, lightly scratching up and down his bare back as the water finally reached the perfect temperature.

“Would you like to tell me about your day?”

“After you tell me about yours. Wanna listen to you talk.” His admittance made you smile and kiss his neck.

“Well, then let me help you clean up and I’ll tell you about all the drama at work.” Chan nodded and leaned back, keeping his hands on your hips at all times. His eyes closed as the warm water began to soak his hair and drip down his face. The image of him was enough to stop you in your tracks and admire his pretty features. Delicate and somehow prominently defined bone structure, pink plump lips with a lovely cupid’s bow, your eyes raked down his thick neck to the built traps of his wide shoulders and broad chest and you wondered how on earth you came to call this beautiful human yours. His looks alone were enough to cast a spell over you, make you want to do anything you could to take care of him, in this very moment you were entranced.

With him still holding on to you, you reached for the shampoo bottle and poured a bit in your hands, lathering it up before massaging the bubbles into his hair. Chan’s lips parted a little at the action followed by a slight groan. “My boss is still an asshole, but today was okay for me, he was pretty occupied. Remember that girl I was telling you about? The assistant? Well, I saw her sneak into my boss’s office during his lunch break.”

Chan peaked one eye open, “what? Really?”

“Mhm,” you nodded your head, “you’ll never believe what happened.” Once your fingers started to get rubbed raw, you figured it was time to rinse. “Head back,” he followed your instructions and let the water clean the shampoo away. “My boss came back after lunch, but his wife was with him!”

Both of Chan’s eyes shot open and he gasped, “no way! Was the assistant still in his office?”

“Yes! And the door was closed! I saw the whole thing as it was happening. Head up.” Conditioner next, then body soap on a scrub glove. You took your time rubbing the exfoliating glove over the expanse of his skin, enjoying getting to clearly see all of his little features up close, particularly his chest and arms. Chan smirked a little as he watched you ogle him.

“What happened next?” He prodded.

“I couldn’t see what the assistant was doing inside his office, but I heard her say that she was just leaving his week’s itinerary and organizing some files and she ran out. The wife was totally clueless.”

Straightening out his arm, you held it up as the soap coated his skin, smelling like a soft lavender. “Damn, I really thought the wife would finally realize her husband was cheating on her.” Chan mindlessly used the suds to clean his lower half as well.

“You and me both, babe. Turn around.”

His back was like a dream to look at, let alone get to see all soapy and wet. You squeezed the glove across his shoulder and let the suds drip down for your own amusement. The little giggle that left you had Chan peaking over his shoulder, “enjoying yourself?”

“Mhm. A lot,” you kiss his lips as he chuckles before continuing your task. “Wanna tell me what made your day suck so bad?”

Chan’s head fell forward with a long sigh, he rinsed the conditioner from his hair. “It’s not even anything terrible. It’s just… the regular stuff that is getting so exhausting.”

Taking the shower head off the hook, you rinsed his body and hung the scrub glove, handing it to him to put back so you could wrap your arms around his waist. Chan’s head hung in the hot water while you pressed your ear to his back and listened to his heartbeat. The soft rhythm was almost mind numbing somehow, not realizing you were feeling him up and down until he cupped his hands over yours to stop before they got too low. “How can I help you?” You could only whisper, wishing there was a way to make all of his responsibilities evaporate like the steam on the bathroom walls.

“Just hold me.”

It was another few quiet moments with him like this until you started to get antsy. Your boyfriend was right in front of you, yet it still felt like his mind was so far away. You knew it was, a bad habit of his that not a lot seemed to break as he thought of all the things he still needed to do. And you missed him, so much that you couldn’t bear to tell him because it’d be one more thing on his plate.

Instead of voicing your concern for his overly bombarded thoughts, you figured it’d be more beneficial to put a pause on his brain all together.

So slow that he didn’t seem to register, you tiptoed your hand south and splayed your palm over his pelvis. It wasn’t until you took hold of his semi-hard cock did Chan realize what you were doing. His head shot up and tried to look back at you, but you lightly wrapped your hand around his neck and said, “relax, baby. No more thinking tonight.” You felt him swallow, then nod.

Not even thirty seconds later and he was at full mass, entirely at your mercy as the water acted as lubricant for lazily pumping him. Knowing just where to touch, just how to nibble lightly at his skin, just enough pressure around his neck to make his head fall back, Chan bucked into your palm and already felt so grounded beneath your touch. The warmth of the water was making him overheat even more now that his high was rising quicker than he’d expected. Your fingertips ran over the head of his cock before wrapping your hand into a tighter ring and speeding up your movements, Chan shuddered and let his head rest back against the side of yours. While you worked him up further, he placed a grip over the hand on his neck and squeezed tighter while his other reached back to grab your ass and pull you flush against his back side. Every time he rutted into the ring of your palm, your hips moved with his, fluid and in sync with every motion until he bit his lip to hold back the strained moans that wanted to erupt. “Let go, sweetheart. You deserve it. I won’t let you go,” the loving coo of your voice was what tipped him over the edge and release onto the tiled shower walls with a deep groan. You squeezed his neck just a little tighter while his nails dug into the fatty flesh of your ass, hips twitching until his shoulders slumped forward with relief.

“Fuck, I needed that. Thank you,” Chan rolled his head to kiss your temple. As he turned to take you into a hug again, you quickly took the shower head and cleaned the wall off and washed his seed down the drain.

“I know.” You hugged him back, but still felt his erection hard against your stomach.

His breathing returned back to normal soon. “Did you shower earlier?” He asked, you nodded, “good.”

Before you could question him further, Chan was guiding you out of the shower and letting the steam flood the bathroom even more. He dried you down before drying himself, taking in your lips as you attempted to wrap your hair in another towel to catch you off guard with your arms up and body exposed.

The kiss was hungrier than any of the past few shared since picking him up, so much needier and desperate that he unexpectedly picked you up and dropped you onto the bed in a matter of seconds. You squealed when your bare back hit the mattress and Chan fell to his knees in front of you. Doing your best not to get the sheets wet with your soaked hair, you looked down at him wonderfully confused, “what’re you doing?”

His lips were peppering kisses up and down your legs, coming to your thighs and he looked up at you through his long lashes. “You’re so sweet to me,” Chan said into your skin. “Packing me meals. Picking me up so late at night. Getting in the shower with me even if you’re already clean just because I asked. Always treating me so good and that was just today. You didn’t think I’d let you leave without a reward, did you?” Each sentence was accompanied by more kisses and slight teething to leave soft red marks.

Throwing your legs over his shoulders, he made his way higher and hooked his arms under your thighs. “I wasn’t going to ask for anything in return,” you admit, unabashedly indulging in how pretty his hair was when it was wet and curly, you couldn’t stop from twirling it between your fingers as his kisses came to the junction where your thigh met your pelvis.

“You don’t have to ask, baby. I wanna give it to you. Y’always deserve something just as sweet as you are. Let me? Please, please let me?” He was begging as his warm breath fanned over your center, sending shivers up your spine and raising goosebumps along your limbs.

Just a nod and a whine, he was overly enthusiastic in the way he began to devour you. Slurping noises filled the room from the very start, Chan clutched your thighs tightly to keep you from squirming and against his mouth at all times. His big tongue covered so much area, made you feel tingly all over especially when he peered up at you from between your legs, an obvious smirk as the same tongue wriggled to tease you for making such pretty nosies for him. Maybe a little too lost in it, Chan sat up onto his knees, hunched over and took your lower body up with him to fold you in half as he continued to stimulate what felt like every nerve in your body. He was looking down at you now and slightly menacing but in a way that was painfully arousing, he knew what he was doing when he began to hum. Hands in his hair, you were rutting into his face as if he was only there for your pleasure, and he loved it. So much so that even after you came into his mouth and he swallowed every bit, after you finally let him go and he placed you back onto the bed, Chan begged to let him do it again.

“Baby, I don’t think I can. Too tired and sensitive,” you breathed heavily as he crawled over your body.

“I know I can make you cum one more time at least. If not with my mouth, then…” His voice trailed off, lowering to place supple kisses across your chest and up your neck. “Let me fuck you, nice and slow just how you like. Wanna keep making you feel good, the way you make me feel. Wanna feel you around me, pulling me in so deep that you feel me in your belly,” he emphasized his sultry words by tracing his fingers across your lower stomach, making you shudder again. “Let me fuck you so soft until you cum around me, make you feel how much I love you and appreciate everything you do for me.” Your stomach twisted at his lewd, heartwarming promise, there was no denying him when he asked so kindly.

Tugging his head down for more kisses, Chan hiked your legs around his hips and immediately aligned himself with your core. The initial push in was a burning, blissful stretch to accommodate his swollen size, the both of you a sensitive mess from already coming once each and loudly groaning into the bedroom air.

“That’s it, baby. Fuck– you feel so good, so warm,” he mumbled against your lips, unable to shut himself up. Not that you minded, you adored when he told you how you made him feel, and he loved the reaction you gave him.

“See that, sweetheart?” He bucked his hips impossibly deeper, seeing the bulge in your lower belly protruding slightly. “What’d I tell ya? Isn’t that just the prettiest sight? Aside from you, of course,” Chan chuckled as he slowly fucked in and out of you, pressing his forehead against yours to watch as his tip prodded lightly upwards from your stomach.

His fascination for seeing himself within you was maddening, when he said he’d fuck you slow, you didn’t think it’d be this slow, to the point of almost stagnant. Whining and clawing at his biceps, you tried to buck yourself back and forth just for the friction and he laughed. He actually laughed watching you struggle to get yourself off after protesting it not even ten minutes ago. “Oh, you’re just so cute! Trying so hard. Is it working? Think you can do it yourself?”

“Baby, please– you said you’d–”

“I know, I know, sweetheart. Don’t worry, I could never say no to your pretty face.”

Chan adjusted his stance so his thighs brushed against your bruised ass and settled on his forearms on either side of your head. Cheek to cheek, you held onto him from under his arms, one hand hooking under his shoulder and the other reaching as far down as you could to dig your nails into his ass the same as he did earlier. The slight pain of your nails was encouraging, pulling out and pushing into you again at a languid pace. The sound of wetness filled the room from both the sloppy kisses he was leaving anywhere he could and from where your bodies connected.

He was alway vocal in bed especially when he was feeling the way he did now, at rock bottom but somehow on top of the world because he had you beside him, conflicted inside thinking he doesn’t deserve the love and support you provide but can’t seem to fend off the selfishness to push you away. You were better that sleep, better than three hot meals a day, better than any drug that could run through his veins because drugs eventually wear off, but there was no way he was ever going to get you out of his system.

So yeah, if the opportunity to tell you how much he adored you ever came around, he was going to take it. Such as now, for instance, fucking into you with nothing but love and passion while also letting out all of his day’s frustrations through his words.

“My beautiful baby, you fit me like a glove. Oh, you sound so pretty when you say my name. Say it again please? Hngh– there we go– ah, fuck– do that again. God, this hole is perfect, so perfect for me. Don’t ever wanna pull out. Wanna fuck you all day and night, make you cum over and over again until you can’t remember what day it is. How does that sound, love? Would you let me? Just say so and I’ll do it.”

If dirty talk was an olympic sport, he’d take the gold year after year because the flame in your gut was burning brighter and brighter with every thrust– or was that just his cock?

Didn’t matter, it could’ve been minutes or hours that he spoke to you like this, kept you teetering on the edge with just the right pace and depth to have your toes curling. It was so good that you wanted to cry, not just from the pleasure but because of how much you loved him, and there was no way to express that love without actually making the two of you break into tears.

But you couldn’t hold back the few that escaped down your cheek, though it was the sniffle that caught his attention to sit up and look at you with deep concern. “Baby? What is it?” He pulled out immediately, making you whimper and claw at his back for him to return. Chan was confused, but did as you asked and slowly pushed back into you, making your eyes screw shut and dig back into the mattress. “Talk to me, why are you crying?”

As he swiped the tear away with his thumb, you held his hand and nuzzled your cheek into his palm. “Love you so much,” it came out as less than a whisper and if Chan wasn’t looking at you, he wouldn’t have understood.

His eyes softened more than they already were, he almost felt the need to let a few tears shed as well but held up the strong fort for your sake. If he had cried too, that would’ve been the end of your little steamy session, and Chan knew better than to take the promise of pleasure away from you. So he squished your cheeks with both hands and planted kiss after kiss against your puffy lips, not letting you breathe as he did so.

“Love you so much more, you’ll never understand.”

Pressing his forehead against yours, not letting his eyes stray from your glistening ones, he continued to fuck into you until your body began to feel like it was floating and you were locking him between your legs in a vice grip, finally closing your eyes as the high stole your vision with a white blur. Chan’s head fell to the side of yours, still holding on when the pulsing of your walls finally let him give in to the euphoria he’d been trying so hard to keep at bay because truth be told, he almost came as soon as you said you loved him.

Bodies damp and tired, Chan would’ve collapsed on top of you if not for his knees tucked below him. Kissing you slowly, feather light and cherishing, he slipped away for just a moment to grab tissues off the nightstand and wipe you clean, then reaching for a clean pair of his boxers to slip up your legs. He giggled when he realized how much bigger they were and weren’t going to stay up.

The comforter was still neatly tucked under the corners of the bed, but Chan decided that while he had you here momentarily immobilized, he’d tuck and roll you into the blanket like a burrito, just your head sticking out of the top. “Nooo! I can’t hold you!” You complained, but laughed along with him anyway.

“It’s for your own good! So you can’t run away from me,” he challenged and wrapped himself around your blanket bundle tightly.

“I told you, I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me.”

“You’re stuck with me, actually. I have you trapped with no escape.” He rubbed his nose into your cheek with a sleepy grin.

“Oh nooo, what will I do?” The fake worry made him sigh, but still smooch your cheek sweetly and roll over so he was on top of you again.

“What do you think will happen with the assistant and your boss?”

“You’re so nosy!” The two of you giggled much too loudly for how late at night it was.

He didn’t let you loose, choosing to keep you wrapped up tightly in the blanket, safe and sound and in his arms.

tags: @sensitiveandhungry @babebatter @changbinluvr @epiphanynaffit. @fawnpeaks @linovely @dumplinbokkieracha @finnydraws @naturules @djeniryuu @hamburgers101@skzhomiehopper @yesv01 @hyunjinsamdl @dazzlingligth @lvrhyuka @alexis-reads-fics @linaliskz @0002linoskitten @chillichillicrabcrab23 @zerefdragn33l @straycrescent @binnies-donuts @soldierstangirl-blog @bakedlilgoonie @levanterlily @shelbyyy44 @yeetmehome @in2heartz @astroodledream @the-sweetest-rose @leebitsimpracha @lilbugs-things @viviennenstan @staurdvst @alex--awesome--22 @imzenning @jeyelleohe @kaitchan @iadorethemskz

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lewisvinga · 2 months

Text

salvatore | esteban ocon x fem! reader

summary; after living a life full of cold exes, y/n never expected to find her ‘salvatore’ during a summer in monaco

warnings; toxic/abusive exes, slut shaming,

word count; 1k

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1 @minkyungseokie @goldenmclaren @ollieshifts @lavisenri

notes; this is song has been on repeat

‘born to die’ series masterlist.

masterlist !

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“C’mon, Y/n, you need a man. You need to live a little!" Y/b/f exclaimed as she followed around Y/n who was tidying up around her home.

"Y/n," She sighed, "I don't need a man."

"It's been 4 years since you broke up with your ex. You haven't dated anyone since you were 21!”

“And you know why.”

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5 years ago

“C’mon, Y/n, let’s just go out!” Y/b/f asked through the phone. “You’re already ready!”

Y/n sighed as she cleaned the counter with a damp towel. She kept looking over her shoulder and back at the front door. “Louis is on his way. I can’t-“

“You can’t or he won’t let you? C’mon, Y/n, you deserve better.”

“I can’t.” She huffed as she rushed to finish off a quick chicken dish so it could be ready when her boyfriend arrived. “How ‘bout we go out tomorrow for lunch? I’ll call you later, promise-“

“Call who?” Louis's voice interrupted her mid-sentence. She hadn’t realized he arrived and she quickly hung up on Y/b/f.

“Y/b/f. She just wanted to hang out and-“

“That’s why you’re dressed like a whore?”

“I-I was about to ch-“

“Change into another slutty outfit?”

Y/n let out a sigh, keeping her gaze on the floor. She could feel Louis’ harsh stare as she turned off the stove and grabbed him a plate. Fortunately, he wasn’t so frustrated after work so he wasn’t as mean to her as usual.

Still, she felt tired of everything. She felt tired of constantly being paranoid. She hated how every word of his left her a mental scar. She hated how sometimes she had to wear sweaters in warm weather to cover up the black and purple marks on her skin. She was just tired.

Y/n glanced at him as she served the food on his plate. In the back of her mind, she knew Y/b/f was right and she was already thinking of the perfect time to leave him.

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present day

Y/n held onto her Dior tote bag as she strolled down the streets of Monaco. She was killing time in the shops before having lunch with Y/b/f and a couple of other girls to celebrate her best friend's engagement.

Y/b/f had instructed them to wear white so Y/n wore a short white sundress. She had an iced latte in her hand, glancing through the window of various boutiques and designer stores.

The summer was hot but she didn’t mind it. She spent the past week working on her tan, eating soft ice cream, and enjoying her week off.

She was lost in her thoughts when before she knew it, she suddenly bumped into what she thought was a wall until she heard a panicked voice. “Oh, fuck! Are you okay?”

The collision had caused her to spill her latte all over her white dress, staining it brown. She let out a chuckle as she looked down at the stain and at the empty plastic cup. “I’m fine. I wasn’t paying attention! Sorry for that.”

Y/n glanced up and was met with probably one of the most beautiful men she had ever seen. His deep brown, almost black eyes were filled with concern as he looked her over. He ran his fingers through his jet-black hair before running his hands over his equally jet-black stubble.

“I’ll-i’ll buy you a new dress! Where’d you get it from?”

“I said don’t worry! It’s a pricey dress anyway.” She said with a smile but that didn’t seem to satisfy him.

“No, please, let me. I can afford it. I’ll even get you another latte.”

“You won’t drop this will you?”

His lips curled into a smile as he shook his head. “Nope!” He said with a shrug. “But the least you could do is give me your name.”

She shook her head slightly and laughed as she holds her hand out. “Y/n, and you must be?”

“Esteban.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

3 years later

“Bonjour. Good morning.”

Esteban’s soft voice woke Y/n up from her deep slumber. Her vision was still blurry as she slowly sat up against the bed, rubbing her eyes and letting her vision get used to the bright lights.

She realized that he stood in front of her with a tray in his hands. Once her vision cleared up, she noticed the iced latte and a croissant with a small candle resting in the middle of the tray.

“Joyeux Anniversaire, chérie.” [happy birthday, dear.] Esteban whispers, sitting beside her on the bed. He kissed her forehead as she took the tray from him. “Now make a wish.”

A small pout decorated her lips as she looked down at the candle. He purposely picked a pink candle knowing that it was her favorite color. Something her ex-boyfriend never bothered learning about in their 3 years of dating.

A panicked look appeared on Esteban’s face when he noticed Y/n’s eyes fill with tears as her bottom lip quivered. “Chérie? What’s wrong? Shouldn’t you be happy on your birthday?” He asked, his voice filled with concern. He reached over and fixed her bed hair.

“I am happy.” She replied while tears streamed down her cheek. She lifts up the tray and softly blows the candle out. She turns to look at her now boyfriend of nearly 3 years with a wide smile on her voice.

“I just never had anyone care for me like you have, Estie.” She whispered as she set the tray on the bedside table. He wraps his arm around her shoulder, tucking her into his arms. “You’re my salvatore. [savior] You saved me. I didn’t even need to make a wish because you’re all I’ve ever wanted. You’re the best thing in my life.”

Esteban places his finger under her chin, causing her to look up into his deep brown eyes. He leans down and places a gentle kiss on her lips. He whispered against her lips, “I’ll always be your salvatore.”

#f1 x reader #f1 smau #formula one x reader #f1 scenario #formula one scenarios #f1 imagine #formula one imagines #formula one imagine #f1 scenarios #esteban ocon scenarios #esteban ocon x reader #esteban ocon imagine

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lazywriters-blog · 1 year

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THE DESPERATE HERO

YANDERE IZUKU MIDORIYA

Warning: May contain triggering content, sexual assault, non-consensual touching, creepy and stalkerish behavior, and yandere content.

Summary: She has been a fickle little friend, and her avoidant nature leads up to a disastrous position, and her best friend is the center of it all. Grown into a man, a focused and determined young man that meets with his distant friend who will avoid him at any cost. What shall occur?

"Hey, I stopped by to see you again, are you home?" three taps on the door and her shoulder flinch up, blood-shoot eyes swift to steady on the voice behind the main entrance, menacingly dark and unwelcoming, "I want to talk to you, please don't ignore me." he pleaded, another series of knocks chimed throughout her space and tensed up the peace. Then, it began. The phone calls.

The device illuminated with life in the clutches of her hand, stiff and unrelenting against the soft metal that buzzed silently, she peered down and without a thought, pressed her finger on the power button and brought the screen into darkness. Lifeless and still.

"You don't even pick up your phone, how am I supposed to talk to you? Please just let's sit down and speak, I'm sorry for what I did the night before." he continued, "I wasn't thinking straight." He had leaned closer to the door, kept his hand on the handle, and tried to listen in to her movements she's sure. "You don't have to isolate yourself, there are people who care about you, please let me help you."

The peacekeeper talk had crawled under her skin, the times he uses it to bring about change that would benefit him, and keep her aware of her every wrongdoing. Her bad habit of pushing people out of her life had become a prominent obstacle in his way, and he had his chances.

She knew she should have kept away from him the moment he held her hand, but best friends always do, so she never said anything about it.

She really should have pulled her hand back when he blushed and flashed her a shy smile, gently combing through his green hair and leaving no space between them. She was wrong in not doing anything.

"I... Know you were avoiding me since the time we held hands, you were cutting me out of your life and I didn't want that! I want to be your friend forever, I want to help you, please let me in." his voice held no motive other than to convince her she was the one who was overreacting. Somehow, his kiss was a friendly gesture, and she'd never believe that the innocent izuku had put his lips on hers, he just didn't seem the most courageous. When it came to her, at least.

"That one time, I called out your name, you almost pretended that you didn't hear me and walked into the bathroom, that was mean of you but I'm not mad, I get it, I'm somewhat clingy, and I'll try my best not to be. So, please open the door."

She would rather risk their friendship than feel the immense discomfort of being observed under his gaze, but confrontation seems impossible once she steps out and into the wide big world, he'd find her during his duty and she would have to sprint back home in a sweaty mess. Barely managing to dodge him all while.

Her eyes locked onto the handle and saw it shift, she knew his patience was cracking and she'd be one to piece them back for the sake of harmony.

He never liked her pushing him out of her life. All too many times, that seemed to be the case for her, and to get him off her back she would get to be the peacekeeper.

"Please let me inside your life. I want to be a part of it, even if a little. I want to be by your side."

The hopelessness in his voice made her reconsider, made her sympathetic for a moment, and provoked her to get onto her feet and move toward the only thing blocking him out. The one thing she's hesitant to unseal.

Resting her hand on the wood, she bends to look into the peak hole. Standing near, he's drawing in breath quicker, and the tears pooled in his eyes made her will weaker and the desire to let him in stronger. But she knows better.

"Please, I can't live without you. Let me in..." he inhaled a choked sob, "I love you... I love you so much, it hurts."

"You know, I think you're cool... Cooler than me, at least." she laughed, chugging down her last portion of vanilla tea, and looked at the astonished man with smiling eyes. His freckled cheeks vaguely appeared red before the fluorescent lights, his mug in his hands held tighter while he gulped.

"Thanks, that means a lot coming from you," he replied, fondly staring at his beverage. Before lifting his gaze back up to see her walk into the kitchen, he kept his glass down and suddenly stood up. Followed in her trail and ended up behind her as she was calmly washing her cup.

Izuku didn't know where he found the intrepidity to finally wrap his arms around her waist and rest his chin in the crook of her neck, something he's been wanting to do forever. She didn't seem all that stunned at first, she kept still and slowly turned around to face him. An unanswered question lingered in her head, her eyes questioning his abrupt change.

"I love you... so much..." he starts, staring into her and steadying his grip, the distance between them was little and he's never felt his heart racing so fast, he forgets what he set out to complete.

"I figured that much." she giggled but it wasn't her usual teasing one, this one had a sad tone, "I knew this was coming and I still wasn't prepared for it." she carried on, "I'm not ready to commit to a relationship, I'm far too avoidant for it. Plus, I'll only hurt you and that's what I've done so far so, I'm sorry to deny your feelings but, I can't do it."

She gently attempts to shake him off, but he doesn't let her and quickly stumbles to give a reason, "No! no, you are not, you've never hurt me and you and I know each other better than anyone else, I want to be a part of your life so please don't push me out after so long. We can try, can't we?" He brings her back close, sealing the gap so much so their nose touches.

"I know you better and no matter how much you try to cut me out, I'll keep coming back for you, I love you that much. I can't imagine being without you."

"No, we both know it's only going to hurt us so let's not get ahead of ourselves and stop, you have a life better worth spending on someone else, you know it, so let me go izuku," she argued and forcibly made her way out of his embrace.

"I want to spend it with you!!" he yells, in a frenzy corners her into a kitchen counter and the electronics fall out of place while the clean cup she had set down drops to the floor and into a handful of chunks. She looks at him and she's taken aback by the strength he used on her, laid down in an awkward position she whimpers and pushes her hand against his chest.

"I don't want to." she hisses, catching the man off-guard as he goes quiet with the realization. Hurt displayed in his leafy green eyes, she knew she hit a nerve.

"You can't cut me out of your life again, I won't let you..." it was sudden and raw, anger twisting his features into a person she's rarely seen, and the kiss had barely registered in her mind while she contemplates the unexpected change in the tides.

His scarred hand lowered down to her hip, while her futile attempts at throwing him off her seemed impossible. Suffocated by the kiss, she squirms in misery feeling his lips press down on hers and his body radiating heat that made it so much more unbearable.

She snakes her hand to claw into his arm but it didn't induce an expected reaction of pain, instead, he moaned, and took it as a sign to continue.

Certain the moment he leans back and disconnects their kiss, she'll scream.

He didn't want that.

Cupping her face, he muffles whatever struggling noise she makes, he sadly stares down at her face and gives her a reassuring smile, his right hand moving down to her warm spot, before slowly feeling her long skirt, and revealing the color of her panties.

"I promise I'll take care of you..." he whispers, snuggling closer to her body heat and caging her underneath him.

He seemed to blush with glee, while he unbuttons her green shirt and fests his eyes on the black bra perfectly fitting her chest, he slightly trembles as he traces his hand against her collarbone. His ear redden, and his stiff muscle loosened.

He chuckles, tears gathered in his eyes while he slopes his head down, "I love you... I love you so much, it almost hurts." he mutters against her skin, then looked up at her. "I want to be someone special to you."

"I just want you..."

The doorbell rings, piercing the stagnant air as izuku quickly drags his attention to the unwanted visitor, his hold on her face grew tight. This was her chance, but her silenced words could only be heard by izuku.

"Pizza delivery." shouted a monotone voice.

"Hello, ma'am?" he repeated four knocks. "I'll leave the pizza by the porch." he finished once no response came from anyone, and soon, she was left alone with him.

But the slight deviation was what she needed.

Grabbing the steel pencil holder, she banged it on his head and used her leg to give him one final shove to get him off her, immediately after making a mad dash to her room and closing the door in time. Not stopping there, she ran to her bathroom and locked herself in for what seemed like a day before he decided to leave.

Not after slamming into the door once or twice.

She remembers coming out of there, scared inside her own house while she checks every room and every hidden place to see if he had truly left, she locked herself in her house and hasn't decided to leave until he showed up again.

If he wanted to, he could burst through the door and get to her. But for however long it takes, she will not let him enter her life again.

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rise-my-angel · 3 months

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Heart of the Great Wolf

A New Life's Darkened Lust

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader, Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader (Past)

Length: 5.2k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, references to character death, implied references to past rape, references to torture, jealousy and possessive thoughts, smut, oral (f receiving), slight somnophilia, p in v, breeding kink

Notes: Wasn't included in the original chapter as to not make it so smut heavy, but if you were wondering how resurrection affected Jon during his reunion with the reader, he sure had some desires even he wasn't expecting. Original Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

The combination didn't make sense. Hazy and foggy, eyes not even open yet but part of Jon could feel against bare skin all over, the freezing cold. Yet most of his front was warm. Whatever was keeping him warm was as soft as his arms had wrapped around it tightly, pulling it close until he realized it was loose strands of hair his face had been tucked into. Hands tightened trying to figure out where he was, it didn't feel familiar and yet it felt right.

Brows furrowing in confusion, he still felt that pull of wanting to go back to sleep fight with getting his bearings and- then it hit him. Where he was, what had happened, and the second Jons grey eyes opened, he lifted his head just slightly to confirm what for barley half a second, did he worry was a dream. No, it would've been a nightmare actually.

The scars littered about his chest, they were real but so was the figure in his arms. It was all real, the past two nights had actually happened but it also meant that had it been a dream? Then you'd still be dead, and that would truly be a nightmare.

But you weren't. You were tucked away in Jons arms, as bare as he was down in the Ice Cells of Castle Black.

The very second last night that Jon had opened his eyes in his own body, something was..different. A feeling trickling in slowly as he sat up in a shock, building behind the scenes as Jon and Ghost reunited properly as two separate beings again, and his direwolf almost knocking him right back over at seeing him awake. Only the moment Jon finally felt as if the world made sense again, did he realize it.

He was not a man who had the words to express how he knew, but he did. Jon knew it was you, he felt it in his bones, in his heart, his mind, everything screamed at him that it was you. Almost like a force beyond his control was telling him what no one else would've been able to figure out. The last in Ghosts mind Jon saw you was so recent and yet it felt like hours.

It was minutes ago, but he struggled to put it together. What happened in that room, all he could remember was lunging for the red woman and you pulling him back, when all Jon wanted to do was tear her apart then and there for the way she spoke to you. It was so loud in his head, but he couldn't sift through the noise long enough to recall what you were doing.

But then it flooded him. Whatever changed in Jons new life started right then and there. The thought that you were somewhere here, outside in Castle Black, alive as any. His heart pounded, raced, he felt lightheaded just thinking you were so close to him but not where he could see you.

He needed you, he needed you here, he needed you in front of him, and Jon needed everything you and him never could share before. Howling in his head, he could feel a pain accompanying the overload but it all spun back to you. It was feral, the racing of his heart that told him you couldn't just walk around alone. You needed to be here, with him.

If Jon didn't have you in front of him soon, he was going to lose it. Enough sense remained in him to say he couldn't just walk out there here and now, but one could. Kneeling back down in front of his direwolf, he ran his hands and nails along Ghost once more. Now whining at Jon as if sensing his own distress.

Muttering your name out in a painful husk that shredded at his throat, Jon beckoned Ghost. “Bring her to me. Go on Ghost, bring her here.”

Ghost turned on a dime, and left. Leaving Jon standing in the cold cell alone, nothing but the temperature sinking into his bare chest mostly exposed. It was an odd thing to admit, but the longer Jon was there and you weren't, the harder he got.

Hands braced against the stone wall, Jon squeezed his eyes closed trying to figure out why he was losing his mind. Everything felt wrong the longer you weren't here. Jon couldn't understand but there was something horrifically dark clawing at his chest demanding he take you for himself. You were his best friend, he thought you were dead for over a year, he should want to see you, but there was something a best friend should never think of towards the other. Something perverse, something howling inside him.

Jon stood there in the relative dark of the cell alone, the more he realized something about him was a harsher man, a worse man. His breathing was heavy, jaw clenched trying to reign himself in but every single time even a glimpse of you in his mind passed by, he could feel his cock throbbing. Something growling in his head that he was just letting his girl walk around a castle full of men, when he should be storming up there himself and fucking you in the middle of the courtyard for all of them to understand you were his.

You two had never even been together as such, Jon hadn't even been with a woman that way which wasn't forced on him. But if Ghost took much longer to find you and bring you down to Jon, he was going to leave to do it on his own. It didn't matter where he'd find you, Jon would tear every scrap of clothes you had on and take you in front of every single man here if this went on any longer.

But then he'd clench his fingertips against the wall with a shaking exhale. This wasn't him, he was a man not a wolf, why was he being so aggressive and territorial about this? He hadn't seen you in front of him alive and he should be emotional about it, but wave after wave of something was making him out of his mind.

Then he heard it. The sound of the doors opening in the distance. So Jon stood there, the darker corner he found himself in until you and your beautiful eyes all wide and fearful walked in and once more his cock was screaming at him. Then Jon slammed the door closed behind you, and did not hesitate to lock you in with him.

That was hours ago though. His heart was far more settled now. Far less wolf finally, and much more of a man. A man with the woman he loves right in his arms, bare after a night he finally lived out what he dreamt of for over a decade. He finally got to be with you, be inside you, make love to you.

And then you fell asleep in his arms down here, and Jon thought he was more calm. But he wasn't.

Under the roughness of his palm, Jon could feel the jagged scar crossed along your lower stomach and it made his own insides twist. Skin raised and if his memory was correct, it was as if the wounds were painted red and black without any healing. Not quite open to the world as if anything could sink into it, but it was as if it existed on your skin but separate to your body.

Jon couldn't even possibly imagine what it must have looked like when it happened, there was no chance that horrific of a wound didn't leave you to bleed out in minutes at most. He'd be shocked if you hadn't collapsed to the ground and died in seconds. Roose Bolton didn't just kill you, he had utterly butchered you like a hunter gutting an animal. There were other marks too, ones he couldn't know which was from which but the longer he laid there with you asleep in his arms the more his eyes grew dark and hands held tighter thinking about it all.

There was nothing any existence beyond this life which would have been better then when Jon had ran his mouth and tongue between your legs. He couldn't quite tell if you were simply surprised by the move, but you almost pleaded his name confused as if you didn't understand what was happening. He had to grab your hand and run it through his curls, both just to be selfish and to give you something to ground yourself with.

Some stories would speak of nectars of the gods, ambrosia created as a paradise to drink but each and every one of such tales was a lie. Jon found the only taste worth fighting for, killing for, dying for, and it was the wetness between your legs as you let Jon drink deep from you. He only intended to give you one, but as soon as you came, Jons blood boiled inside him and his heart pounded at the thought of pulling away just yet. So he gave you another, hardly even focusing on bringing you to second orgasm on purpose, he just couldn't pull away from the taste. He didn't want to.

But laying here and now, there was no denying something else. It wasn't just small healing cuts on your face, it wasn't just fading bruises and old and fresh marks that looked like welts and slashes across your body. It was between your legs too. Bruises yes, cuts and slashes yes, but there was one more thing he could see that night that told him the worst of what he didn't know.

They looked violent and painful, they looked like that of a wild animal going for a brutal kill, but they were no doubt the grotesque indents of a mans teeth sinking into your upper thighs enough Jon knew it would've drawn blood. And there was only one thing that could've been done to a woman to leave marks as such. If that was something a woman would actually want, you were not them.

His jaw clenched in the mere minutes he had been awake, Ramsay had done what Jon suspected were vile, unspeakable things to you. But he was tied between two places. An anger of wanting to lay siege to Winterfell here and now and drag that coward from Jon's home to kill then and there, and another part of him that lay there, wanting to do the opposite. Make you forget whatever he had done, make you feel good, show you that you were allowed to be touched while being loved, and Jon had a hard time seeing passed the fact that you both were already bare, Jon had already fucked you twice, and his cock was hardening against the perfect plush skin of your ass.

His hands moved before he could convince himself to let you sleep. That dark vision in his heart crept up once more into his mind and just as he felt his cock twitch did he let one hand lower to your hip and pulled you back into him. A small grind into your ass, as he felt his breathing pick up, his face leaning down into your neck and moving on his own accord.

Kisses increasing in greed and an intentional sloppiness, Jon felt you stir in your sleep against him and it only made you feel that much better against his cock. Letting his hand slip down, he groaned as he hid his face in your hair to smother the sound from waking you up. You were still a mess, a mixture of your own wetness and traces of Jons seed that hadn't quite spilled deep enough inside you. Tracing his fingertips through your soaked core, it took nothing to drag them up to your clit. Running two fingers tightly against it, before dragging back down to gather more. Switching from rubbing it in every pattern that had your sleeping body grind back into him, and hearing you let out a mumbled whine as he would roll it between his fingers more roughly.

Shaking slightly, Jon leaned slightly more over you, wanting to turn you to him better but knowing the movement would jostle you awake. And Jon wanted you to cum at least once while you were still asleep for him. He was about to wake you up like an animal, so he wanted to do this for you while you were still slumbering peacefully.

You had never been together like this before, he never had you in this manner but all he could see and think last night when he came back was how desperately he needed you. Everything and nearly everyone was lost to him, but you? Jon finally had understood why when some become widows young, they stay that way. Any love after you was something that sounded horrible to him, sounded like nothing which would make him happy the way even being around you made him.

Even now, the small noises barley leaving your sleeping lips, how you leaned back into his touch without knowing Jon was practically defiling you. If this was a one day miracle, and once the night was over he would return to the dead, he would accept it. As long as the day was spent down here, with you.

Your brows furrowed, and Jon just barley sunk his fingers down inside of you to run them back up, soaking your clit once more as he finally leaned down to sink his teeth into your neck. Breathing picking up as he rubbed tight, harsh circles and you shook somewhat in his touch. But it wasn't enough, he knew how beautiful you sounded when you came now, he knew how you looked when you reached your end with his cock deep inside of you.

It wasn't enough, he needed more. As soon as your sleeping eyes fluttered, passing right between the deep pleasured sleep and awake to the world, Jons cock was throbbing against your ass. He knew what your cunt felt like around him now, and he was utterly addicted to it. Barley rasping our your name, he kissed a path to just under your ear and muttered into it, reaching from your clit to your jaw to tilt you somewhat to look back. Your eyes so heavy from sleep you hadn't really opened them, but he muttered anyways.

“Darling, are you going to let me fill you?” A whining hum left your throat as your hands started to move a bit, as if trying to come to the same conclusion of life he previous had. But the sound was so high pitched and yet so quiet and needy it made him growl deep in his chest.

Capturing your lips, you moved so slow to respond but every inch you touched him with screamed as if Jon wanted to walk into a burning pyre just to stay there with you. Gently guiding your lips, Jon's mind growled at him once more. Like the man once again had left and the wolf returned. As if he were two separate entities.

Before the man could overthink how he wanted to slide inside of you slowly, knowing you'd be sensitive from his treatment last night, the wolf in him argued back to just take you harshly now. If Jon weren't so desperate to see your beautiful green eyes fluttering open to look at him, Jon might have felt inclined to flip you over and yank your hips up. Take you as a proper wolf breeds his mate.

Instead, he found a middle ground between being gentle on you, and controlling how hard he also wanted to fuck you. Flipping onto his back, against his strength you weighed practically nothing in his arms to move you. As soon as you lay front across his chest, Jon spared no more time.

Hoisting you up by your hips to sit you upright on top of him. Just as you pleaded his name so beautifully and so quietly as your green eyes met his grey ones, Jon had you shut them right back closed the moment he took charge. His own hands now adding to the mess of bruises forced onto your body he was gripping your hips so tightly, and in one go refusing you any mercy, sunk you down his full length.

Your nails dug into his chest, your face tied between a wince of what was no doubt a burning stretch, and a conflicted desire of pleasure fighting against how sleepy you were. But Jon, didn't make it any better. As soon as he felt your walls relax around his cock, Jon once more used his strength against you.

Only letting you rise about halfway off his cock before Jon would force your hips to slam right back down. His head thrown back at first, a deep groan unbecoming of him left so easily from his lips as he continued to bounce you on his cock. It wasn't quite rough at first, but then he opened his eyes again, looked back and could see where he was sinking in and out of you. The force making the air fill with an obscene slap of skin, and another groan deeper almost left as Jon begun to force your hips down harder and harder.

Part of him was almost angry at first. The last time he had seen you bare, was in his chambers in Winterfell and you were a dream. You weren't a tiny girl of nothing like so many dainty highborn girls were expected to look, but you weren't all firm and muscle either. No, you were soft, plush. Perfect for his large, greedy hands to find any and everywhere to grab onto. A kind of plushness that begged to be pounded into so he could watch the force ripple along.

The Boltons had clearly been starving you. You were not the same soft girl he dreamed of, and even beyond the marks left over you, whatever strength you built up at war had wilted away and you were nothing like what you were. Too small in too many places, and you didn't look the same girl full of life and pleasure as before. They had kept you thin to keep you weak.

And Jon hated it.

Grey eyes closing even despite how perfect it was to watch his cock disappear into your soaking core, a thought tore through him. You must have looked like you descended from the gods themselves while you were with child. He shouldn't be, it was entirely ill placed to feel it here, but part of Jon felt so jealous that Robb got to fuck you while you were pregnant. The months that had passed since he saw you in that vision, and a dream of your death, you'd have no longer been able to really hide how much you were showing. Maybe something long and extra flowing could cover it up to the passing eye, but he growled just as his cock throbbed fucking you down onto it.

One hand rose up from your hip, running along your arm to the side of your face and raking through part of your hair, you meekly grabbed onto that wrist as you could barley keep your eyes open. Just as you were barley letting such beautiful sounds overtake you. You just let Jon fuck you up and down his cock, muscles loosening as it made you so much more pliable. Head falling forward, your mouth parted in a silent but needing cry he could see. Jaw clenched, Jon found both your hips again and dragged you down onto him harder.

Slap after slap did your skin together echo in the cold air, how warm you were around him, how utterly tight you were every time he lifted you even the slightest bit off his cock. Only to force you right back down and the sound blessed his ears. He could hear how soaking wet you were with every fuck, so he moved you not harder this time, but faster. Addicted to the sound he needed it just as much as he needed air.

Grey eyes scoured every inch of you, lips, neck, breasts, scar just like his. Jon in tandem to bouncing you on him, did he begun to meet where he moved you. Fucking up into you just as he pulled you down, desperate to sink as deep as he could even when you both were as connected as you ever were graced to be. A loud cry left you the moment Jon started to thrust up into you.

Nails digging into his upper chest, your mouth agape trying to breathe but he stole it all way each time he sunk you deep again, dragging along a wall inside you that had your thighs shaking around him. A growling begun to leave him each and every pound, a hiss at your nails that he wanted more and more of carving into his skin, groaning whatever left his mouth of how perfect you felt around him, Jon knew he was about to start running his mouth.

But enough sense was still in him to stop it, or at the least, smother it. Surging upward, you grasped his shoulders as Jon kept you bouncing in his lap. Hands now at your waist but his eyes were a shining wide open watching you as his hot breath danced across you. He needed to shut up and do it now, otherwise he would say something he regretted. He'd say something more of then just your cunt around his cock.

Jon was about to shock himself, had he not done anything about it. Almost letting slip that he was going to keep you here, keep you on his cock, spill inside of you as long as it took to fill you with his child. It startled him. It truly did, the possessive thought coming from nowhere, Jon knew he was about to demand you let him get you pregnant and he knew this wasn't normal.

So he shifted to press a hand against your back to force your chest up, let him bury his face in your breasts as his other hand forced you to keep his rough pace. Mouth taking the small bud of your breast into his mouth, almost nibbling at it before biting down more. A loud cry left you, one hand finding itself raked deep in his curls, as your head fell backward. Biting and kissing what he could each, Jon barley let himself leave one breast until it first shined from his lips, and he could see the indents of his teeth bruising.

Moving to the other, Jon returned both hands to your waist, forcing you down with a growl leaving his baring teeth with how you just let him take you. You moved with him, but never against him, never taking any control, you just held onto him and let Jon fuck you. Closer and closer he could feel you becoming as well.

Clenching tightly around his cock, stuttering cries left you. “Gods, I- Oh Jon, please...” More and more his name left your lips and he was so thankful when you came around him. Forcing his cock to thrust itself up deeper to reach as soaking deep as you let him, beacuse a mighty groan left Jon.

Hidden by his mouth and teeth against your chest, but as your walls fluttered around him, did Jon throb inside of you. In an instant as he slurred your name, Jon felt himself cum. Keeping you bouncing shallow on top of him but so very deep, Jons head dropped, hands moving without the ability to watch from his closed eyes. It felt even better then last night, spilling deeply inside of you, it felt so much better which he hadn't thought possible.

Filling you with his cum, knowing what he had to offer you was thick. Thick and there was so much of it, Jons body burned too hot around him as he filled you with his seed. He had never come so much before last night and right now, never. It was as if however long your orgasm had you wrapping your arms around his neck and shoulders to ride along those waves, did Jon spill inside you.

He wasn't even done, just like the night before, Jon almost didn't understand why he hadn't even lost a hint of how hard his cock was. As soon as the thought hit him, Jon looked back up to your beautiful face, almost innocent in how must pleasure Jon was giving you as if brand new to you. You were so perfect to him, you didn't endlessly talk or run your mouth. You begged for him just as he needed you too instead of mocking him or insulting him.

You let Jon bounce you on his cock at his pace, at his control. You let him do the work and he couldn't be more happy for it, you let him fuck you at his mercy and begged his name so sweetly. It wasn't fair he had to die to get this, that you died before you two could share this.

Jon almost couldn't even lie to himself long enough to finish when it was her. He barley could make it through a single act without forcing his eyes shut and mind away just to stay hard the whole time. But with you? Jon felt out of his mind. He was so hard both last night and now, and three times now he's spilled so deeply inside of you.

Something he had adamantly denied in any way to her. She'd mock him for it, asking if he was scared or something and he could remember hating it. Of course he was, if he was too scared to fuck the beautiful girl who was the only one he's ever loved, beacuse he didn't want to accidentally get you pregnant, he sure as hell wasn't doing anything to give her that chance.

The baby he'd see in his mind had your eyes after all. Yours. Not hers.

So as soon as the thought came to Jon, he once more hid his mouth against biting and kissing your breasts just to smother the chance of saying it. Had he given his mind the free range to speak as whatever the hot blooded wolf was screaming, Jon would've told you with every conviction that you weren't allowed to leave his cock until he got you pregnant. That he'd roll you back over, hover over you, tie your hands together around the iron bars to keep you from trying to get him to ease up.

How much Jon wanted to shove your legs wide apart, maybe if he was desperate enough, he'd lift you to your feet. Press you against the bars, tie your hands above your head to them, and tie each leg to a separate bar, legs spread enough for Jon to sink his cock inside of you endlessly. Something possessive and feral inside of him refused to give up the image.

The wolf taking over what of Jon was still a man, screamed at him to breed you. Fill you with his pups and as soon as you're ready, do it again and again. He fucked up into you rougher trying to fight back against that side of him from taking over. But it tried and tried to come out. Jons family was gone, so he needed to spill inside of you here and now until you were pregnant, start a pack of his own with his cock sunk deep inside of you. He'd keep you tied up until Jon knew it took, he'd refuse anyone to come anywhere near here until he was sure.

And then, he'd spill inside of you a few more times still, for good measure. Just to be safe.

But he didn't say that, didn't do any of that. Just fucked you down onto his cock, breasts would've jostled had Jon not kept you so tightly against him. His breathing picked up as did your cries. His eyes raising to find yours, cupping your cheek with a hand and finally letting go of your waist and his control, to cup the other side of your face.

“Give me another..I want another. Cum for me, please darling, cum for me right here. I can feel you clenching around me, I know you need too. Cum again for me, please..” Your eyes blown out, mouth parted, you nodded. No words left in you, he had fucked them all out into silence, but he pulled your lips to his anyways.

Deepening the kiss as his thrusts moves shallow compared to you moreso writing on him then feeling confident enough to move up and down as he made you. Biting your bottom lip, Jon slid his tongue inside your mouth. Brushing your own tongue and he wondered if you'd let him taste you all over again here and now. Barley leaving your kiss, let alone your mouth and tongue long enough for you to mumble against him

Pleading his name, you sought his grey eyes and drowned in them. Barley managing a breathless beg just as you clenched around him. Jon wrapped a hand through the hair at the back of your head as the other grabbed at your hip, once more fucking up into you as he pulled you down on him.

If Jon were a worse man, he'd say damn it all, and just get you pregnant here and now before your gentle insecurity could say anything against it. He'd spill and spill inside you and then everyone up in the real world would know Jons claim on you was serious.

Your orgasm washed through you just as it overcame him. Hiding his head in your neck, Jon forced you to sit deep on his cock. Throbbing hot until he growled your name, spilling deeply inside of you for a fourth time in the hours he's been alive again.

He wouldn't admit it to himself, but as Jon filled you, all he could think was, gods he hoped it took.

But as you both finally could begin to breathe again, your heads both rising up to gently seek the others eyes as both of you almost panted trying to get air again, Jon ran a hand down the hair at the back of your head. Because the man in him knew, you were running out of time.

Sooner or later, Jon would have to emerge to his brothers, and face the reality that a man they all knew was murdered, now stood alive as any of them. And Jon didn't feel any sort of good about what they were going to start saying about it. About you.

Leaning forward, Jon was tender in his kiss. Keeping you close but not overwhelming you finally, he pulled back to press another to your nose and a third against your forehead. A small whisper on his lips, “I told you I'd still be here, darling. I promised you.”

Nodding gently, he pulled back to look at you again and this time, burying in each others embrace rather then needy in a kiss. He wouldn't pull you off of him until he was ready to even start to redress, so for now, you both kept in the others arms.

Trying to ignore the reality of how you both had died, and how neither of you were dead any loner.

#jon snow x reader #robb stark x reader #jon snow #robb stark #game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #jon snow x you #robb stark x you #jon snow imagine #robb stark imagine

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seasaltandcopper · 10 months

Note

♠ Leaving them at the mercy of strangers in a public display (stocks, pillory, cage, chained to something, etc) for your vamp series!

-Lonesome

Set years before the start of the series, during Mal’s first week with the hunters. This swerved a bit off prompt, but I had fun lol

hopefully this is the series you meant. it's the one i mentioned in the tags when i reblogged the prompts, but I know I inconveniently have like three vamp-centric ones, so apologies if it's not

Vampire Hunter AU

Edit: this prompt now has a continuation here

Rating: mature

Warnings: torture, captivity, dehumanization, non-sexual nudity, stress positions, profanity, burns, implied (future) whipping, vampire whumpee, multiple whumpers

They strung Mal up by his wrists in the middle of the room, which was, if nothing else, a change of scenery. After spending who knew how long cramped in a pitch-black cell with nothing but his own thoughts keeping him company, this almost felt like an improvement.

Almost.

Mal tried to think positive. Instead of kneeling, bent double on a brick floor until his legs screamed in agony and the muscles in his neck and back cramped and seized, he got to hang, balancing on his toes so he didn’t dislocate his fucking shoulders, and enjoy a whole different set of muscles cramping up instead.

Variety—the spice of life.

Mal shifted restlessly, fighting a losing battle to ease some of the strain on his shoulders. An ache built in the joints, fiery knots that ratcheted tighter and tighter each time he let his arms take his full weight. A muscle in the back of his calf twinged.

Mal breathed. In and out, bare chest rising and falling, pale skin ashy under the stark fluorescents. Being so…exposed in front of a crowd also stirred up a nervous, squirming kind of shame Mal unsuccessfully tried to ignore.

Realistically, he knew a few flimsy scraps of cloth wouldn’t protect him from this; being tortured would suck whether he was naked or not. It was just one more attempt to humiliate him, to reinforce his “place” as something subhuman, that quickly chipped away at his remaining pride.

Across the room, one of the hunters grinned, tapped his buddy on the arm, and nodded Mal’s direction.

Great.

For the first ten minutes or so after hanging Mal up like a piñata, they’d just watched, joking crudely and laughing amongst themselves. Too many sets of eyes sizing Mal up, like a piece of meat.

Or sharks smelling blood in the water.

Now, it looked like they were finally ready to play.

Slowly, the hunter prowled closer. He pulled a small, folding knife from his pocket. As far as blades went, it was pretty tame. Something meant for trimming twine or nails—only a couple inches long.

Smirking, he held it up for Mal to see. Waved it slowly back forth so dramatically that Mal finally rolled his eyes at the display.

The hunter stopped and arched his brow, taunting, “Think that’s funny, leech?”

“Of course not,” Mal said, dryly. “You and that nail file are terrifying. Really.”

Egging them on was stupid; Mal knew it was stupid. And for the most part he’d bitten back the snark and profanity and played it smart. He watched. Listened. Looked for opportunities, openings, any weakness he could exploit.

But every now and then Mal’s mouth still got the better of him.

The hunter snorted. Glanced at the pocket knife and made a show of looking it over before shrugging and folding it closed.

“Yeah,” he conceded, mildly. “Never was a big fan of knives, anyhow. Not for this shit.” The man waved a dismissive hand, and turned back to the gaggle of hunters. “Hey, Niall, pass me the No. 3 Braided?”

A couple of the hunters laughed. One of the women whistled. Another scoffed, the sound almost lost to a louder protest of, “What happened to starting small?”, that kicked off another round of jeers and abrasive laughter.

Unease prickled like sweat on the nape of Mal’s neck. He swallowed, fidgeting and letting his gaze drift from the hunter to the crowd behind him. The other man, Niall, strolled forward a moment later, a length of something heavy and black coiled in his hand.

A whip. That was a fucking whip.

Niall passed it over and retreated back to the sidelines to watch. Tension settled over the room. Anticipation.

Given the floor again, the hunter hefted the tool, then tilted it to give Mal a better look. Against his better judgment, Mal did. Something in the pit of his stomach tied itself in queasy knots.

“This here is one of my favorite correctional tools in our kit. Sleek, got a bit of weight to it, feels real good in your hand.” He unlooped a single coil, letting the tip dangle. “Comparable to your standard bullwhip—little shorter, because we’re not driving cattle with it. But the craftsmanship is what really sets this thing apart. You got your standard woven leather cording, but then see that there…?”

He dragged a finger down the length, angling the whip again so it caught the overhead light. Dull shine Mal first mistook for well-oiled leather came into terrifying clarity, all at once.

Oh, god…

“Silver thread,” the hunter confirmed, enjoying the dawning horror settling over his captive audience. “All braided in with the leather, can barely even see them. But when it hits one of your kind—” Casually, the hunter pressed the whip to Mal’s stomach, just above his navel. “It adds a little extra zing to your swing.”

The reaction was immediate.

Pain sizzled across Mal’s skin as the interwoven silver burned on contact. He hissed through his teeth, and tried unsuccessfully to flinch away. Bare feet skimmed the concrete, yanking hard against the shackles anchoring his legs to the floor, a precaution to keep him from kicking.

Smart. Because without it, the asshole in front of him would’ve already been dead.

Grinning, the hunter held the silver-braided loop there for a few more seconds, watching his captive squirm. When he finally relented, a bright red line of blistered flesh marred Mal’s belly, like he’d carelessly leaned against a hot stove.

Shit.

Mal was breathing hard, now. Shaking, from more than just the strain of the position. Fear—real fear—danced around the edges of his consciousness.

Anger, too. Bone-deep, stubborn defiance Mal sometimes swore he’d been born with. It’d kept him going this long. Helped him weather things that were, theoretically, scarier than a ragtag group of human bullies.

In reality, he’d never faced anything like this before.

Ears ringing, Mal stared the hunter down, fangs bared in a snarl.

Face darkened with cruel glee, the hunter leaned in close. Just shy of Mal’s biting range, but enough the heat of his breath puffed against Mal’s skin, like he was sharing a secret between the two of them.

“Most of them scream by three.” The muffled thwick of leather hitting the floor echoed in Mal’s ears. “But I bet you’ll make it to five.”

Tag list: @whumpsday @writereleaserepeat @thecyrulik @lookbluesoup

#whump #answered asks #prompt fill #vampire whump #defiant whumpee #vampire whumpee #my writing #vampire hunter au #salt ocs #salt oc: mal

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bluestar22x · 4 months

Text

Lost And Found

The Outcast - Part 1: Lost And Found

Summary: You stumble upon a man at death's door.

Pairing: Pero Tovar x F!Reader

Rating: 13+ (eventually 18+)

Word Count: 2,700 (ish)

Warnings: Fowl language, pov changes

Author’s Note: This one just popped into my head out of nowhere. I have so much writing for other fics that I should be doing instead, but my mind had to make this up. It'll be a short series, but how many parts it will have, I have no idea yet.

xxx

Pero Tovar had never felt colder in his life. Though he was bundled in a winter coat and wearing its hood, the chill had still managed to seep down into his bones and numb every bit of his body. It had not mattered whether the skin was exposed or not. His wool lined boots had done little to prevent his toes from freezing up after the first six hours.

They were probably frostbitten by this point, he thought dimly, but was too far gone to be properly concerned. He had to focus just to stay mounted on his horse as he slumped forward over his thick neck, gloved hands weakly entwined in the stallion's long black mane as he trudged slowly through the deep snow. It had been at least a day since they'd fled the town, still snow continued to fall blindingly fast and the wind continued to howl.

It was all William's fault, Pero thought bitterly. He was the reason why he was going to freeze to death in a snowstorm instead of dying on a battlefield or at least in a cozy bed. If only he'd stolen the black powder so they could retire. If only William hadn't finally abandoned him for some pretty damsel on the coast, tired of living only for profit, the next fight.

They'd parted on good terms, he'd even encouraged him, but fuck that bastard for listening. They were supposed to be a team. Brothers even.

If William had been with him when he entered the nearby town they could've taken them, the group of soldiers who had attacked him upon recognition. He'd fought for their enemy, and him being a hired swordsman did not matter. They'd wanted him dead for having killed friends of theirs. When he'd realized he would be no match for their sheer numbers, he'd been forced to flee the town and head for the mountains. He knew how to traverse such landscapes, but the area was new to him, and with the added lack of visibility during the storm he eventually realized that while he'd escaped the soldiers, he'd simply traded one bad situation for another.

Lost. He was utterly lost. And he had nothing on him to start a fire, not having planned to camp out in the forest at this time of year.

Without a way to start a fire and no shelter in sight, he didn't dare stop moving, knowing that if he did his number would likely be up soon after. As long as he was in the saddle, conscious, he was alive. As long as he was alive, there was hope.

As night approached for a second time real fear started to creep into the back of his mind, the reality of his situation grim. Deep down he sensed that if he did not find shelter quickly, he would not see dawn.

He desperately scanned his surroundings for any place to hide in. A cave, a valley with natural barriers to keep the wind out, an abandoned cottage or barn. Anything at all would've been better than wandering through the storm.

But he could barely see more than a few feet in any direction, and all of what he saw was barren besides the accumulating snow and a few shady things that might've been trees in the distance. Trees that were far too spaced apart to be of any use.

His eyes were getting dangerously heavy, sleep threatening to take him without his consent, but he bared his teeth and shook his head in retaliation.

"You will not die here tonight," he growled to himself with all the determination he could muster up. His teeth clacked together, his body quaked like the ground below did on occasion in the southern lands, but he pressed on.

He lasted what was likely only a couple more hours before he stopped shivering, a bad sign he knew, and then his mind blessedly blanked. He became completely dazed, staring out at nothing, feeling nothing, with no final words to speak. Not that anyone would've heard them anyway. He was at his end, and nobody would know when he took his last breath.

Not even himself.

It had always fascinated you, how fast mother nature's mood could change. One minute she raged, the wind ravaged, and the snow fell seemingly endlessly, and the next she found her peace, letting the sun rise and the wind deaden.

There were still flurries that early morning, on and off, and the air was still frigid, but that did not deter you from setting out bareback on Clover, your blood bay mare that had a white head marking shaped similarly to the plant that was her namesake. You'd decided you needed more meat to store away for the long winter ahead, especially with how ferocious this last storm had been. It was only the beginning and your gut told you it would only get worst.

Clover was still quite young, barely an adult, but calm for her age. She moved quietly through the forest near your cottage as you peered between trees and glanced at the ground below for any signs of wildlife, bow in hand.

You had to rely on your sight that day since the deep snow would mute most of the typical sounds wildlife made. At least any tracks you found would be guaranteed fresh, you mused.

For three hours Clover plodded through the woods as you scanned the surrounding area with no luck. You knew there were plenty of wildlife in the area, even in winter, but for whatever reason they were apparently extra wary and well hidden that day. Maybe because the snow was so deep and fresh. You doubted if even the rabbits could move around without sinking into it.

You didn't want to turn back, but you were starting to go numb, and rather than losing a few fingers and toes you decided it best to head home early to warm up by the fire. You'd have other days to hunt, and even if you didn't you could probably survive all winter on the vegetables and berries you'd harvested in the autumn and the leftover meat from your last deer hunt if you were careful about your portions. At least that was what you'd told yourself to ease your mind of anxiety.

You decided to take a short cut home through the meadow that broke up the forest, not far away from the cliff edge of the mountainside you lived on. You wouldn't dare travel through that section when it was snowing, but on a clear day there was no chance Clover would get close enough to the deadly drop to put you both in peril so you went for it.

When you and Clover entered the meadow, you spotted a muscular black horse in the distance, standing in the middle of the area like it was on guard, but you could see no other horses nearby for it to protect.

As you neared him, you realized the horse was tacked up with a saddle and bridle, so he couldn't be a domestic horse gone wild as you'd first assumed.

Where was his rider? You thought with concern. The nearest town was a day's ride away on a good day. Had someone dared to attempt to travel through the mountains during the storm? Or had this horse been running around with tack on for a long time?

Your questions were answered when you got within several yards of him and noticed the body by his feet. You halted Clover, stunned.

He was a man, or had been, you could tell. Though he was half buried in the snow and hooded, you could still see part of his masculine face and the long scar that marked the skin above and below his left eye. He was on his back, eyes shut, cheeks reddened from windburn, and he was as still as the dead, so you assumed he was.

You hopped off Clover's back and approached his mount cautiously, not wanting to startle the horse away. You couldn't afford to feed another horse through the winter, but you could at the very least rid him of his tack and leave him with better survival odds than when you'd found him. A horse as loyal as him, as one who stuck by his rider's side when they fell off, deserved at least a chance.

The stallion snorted and stared at you with concerned dark eyes when you were near enough to touch him, and shivered when you ran a hand over his neck, but did not flee.

"Easy, boy," you whispered, trying to soothe him with your voice and touch. "I'm just here to help."

He stomped his front feet and backed away from you, circling around to nuzzle the back of his rider's head.

Your heart ached for him. You imagined all he wanted was for him to get up, for them to continue their travels together.

"I'm sorry I was too late to save him," you said remorsefully - right before a quiet groan slipped from the man's mouth.

You jumped in surprise, and your eyes widened. Had you just imagined that? No. You could see it then, as you stared at the man, the shallow breath he took before you.

You gasped and fell to your knees. "You're alive! Holy shit. Can you speak?" You shook the man's shoulders, but he did not respond, and it became clear to you then that though he was still breathing, he was not conscious at all of his surroundings.

You chewed on your lip, pondering what to do. He likely would not survive without intervention, and you knew no one else would come along, but you were still hesitant to take action. It's not that you hated men, but rather that you didn't trust them. You weren't sure it was wise to bring him to your cottage to warm him up and treat whatever ailments the cold had given him. But what other choice did you have that you could live with? Besides, he would be in no shape to harm you when he first woke up, if he ever did.

You also didn't like the idea of waking up to a dead stranger on your floor.

"Hell," you grumbled. Despite your apprehension, there was no way you were going to leave this man to die. You had a thing for saving the needy. Your heart too soft for the world's evils. It was largely the reason why you lived alone.

You brushed some snow off the man and threw your coat over his torso. "I'll be right back," you promised him, springing to your feet and climbing back onto Clover, immediately kicking her into a canter, the fastest speed she could manage in the snow, as fluffy as it was.

As soon as you arrived at your cottage you hooked her up to the small sled you owned, a bunch of strong branches tied together that you used to drag dead deer and firewood to the cottage. You figured it should hold up long enough to drag the man back to safety.

It took far longer than you liked to return to him, but luckily he did not seem in a state any worst than he had been before you'd left.

After you arrived came the hard part. You were a strong woman, thicker than most, and fit, biceps better toned than some men you'd seen go to war, but the man was broad shouldered and he was wearing armor and weapons under his winter coat that caused him weigh as much as a prized buck, so it took a good amount of effort to tug his dead weight onto the homemade sled. You managed, but on your way back home with him in tow behind Clover and his stallion trotting alongside you both, you wondered how you were going to get him indoors.

It took time, but inch by inch your were able to pull him into your cottage and lay him down to rest in front of the fireplace in the main living area. You wanted to sit down next to him and catch your breath, but you knew time was of the essence. You started a fire and loaded as much wood as you could fit into the space. You then stripped the man of his armor and all his weapons (two swords and a few knives) before finally ridding him of his wet clothes, leaving him stark naked.

You tried not to think inappropriately about his handsome face, his muscular and lean body, and his endowment as you examined him, searching for any possible damage. You decided in the end that he was lucky. Besides old scars that littered his body and some bruising along his abdomen that you knew couldn't be from exposure, he didn't appear to be too hurt physically. He'd managed to escape severe frostbite by some miracle, though his face was going to be angrily red for a while.

Maybe he had a good shot at surviving after all. Then what would you do? Logically send him away as soon as spring arrived, earlier if the snow in the passage melted. If you didn't have to kill him first. You'd defend yourself if you had to, but you were hoping it wouldn't get to that point. You had managed to avoid killing people all your life, and you didn't want to start. Especially with someone you'd put an effort into saving.

You covered him with fur lined blankets, placed one under his head, and tried to get him to drink water, only managing to wet his lips before you gave up and left to tend to the horses outside. You untacked Clover and the black stallion before sending them into separate pastures, Clover with her mother, Meadow, and the stallion alone. After they were settled in you spread out hay for the horses and carried the tack into the barn where you kept the feed for the horses and the goats you raised for milk. The little mischievous black and white creatures, all ten of them, were housed together in a paddock behind the barn for the winter. You fed them too before returning to check on the man.

He was still unconscious, but actively shivering. Progress. You set out his clothes to dry then watched him as you ate a meal of deer meat and berries, sympathy making your stomach flip. You couldn't imagine how much it would suck coming back from nearly freezing to death. It would be better than being dead, you figured, but you'd still hate it, and he still looked so cold.

Taking pity on him, you stood from the chair at your dining table and slipped under the fur blankets, hugging his side closely. It was awkward, being that close to a naked stranger, but facts were facts. Body heat would help him. Besides, you were clothed, so there really wasn't a reason to think of it too weirdly. Or to have any wild thoughts.

As he warmed up and once more stopped shaking, you relaxed a bit, letting your mind wander off away from your initial thoughts of how strange the situation was to how nice it was not to be alone in your home for once, even though present company couldn't talk back and smelled like his horse - which honestly wasn't so bad. He must have bathed not long before his misadventure, you thought.

Your mind eventually dove into the past. You remembered how you'd shared a bed with your older sister when you were little since your parents were too poor to get you separate ones and then how you'd shared a bed with your childhood sweetheart when you'd both turned sixteen and had slipped away to a local tavern to explore each other's bodies, social rules be damned.

You hadn't shared a house, let alone a bed of any sort, with anyone for any reason since, and that made a shockingly long time. Almost embarrassingly when you thought about the romantic aspect of it, until you remembered why you were so isolated and the shame melted away as quickly as it had sneaked in.

You glanced up at the man's face as he began to mumble in his sleep, words unintelligible, his chapped lips twitching under a well kept mustache. You wanted to touch those fine lips and the short, narrow beard that lined his jaw, but you resisted, instead laying your head against his shoulder.

You didn't notice that you were dozing off until sleep had already won.

xxx

Tagged: @harriedandharassed

xxx

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

xxx

#The Great Wall Fanfic #Pero Fanfic (Mine)#X Reader #The Outcast Series

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fallingrealms16 · 2 months

Text

Destiel Fic Recs Part 1

(人 •͈ᴗ•͈)

So this is a little bit different to what I usually post (if you know me I post mostly Sterek content) but I have to remember this account is also all about that Destiel content too!

The Unbroken by casblackfeathers

126K Words // Chapters: 28/28 // 24K Hits // COMPLETED

//EXPLICIT//

Dean’s life had been made of running. He ran from a curse that had desolated his life ever since he was a child — whenever he got hurt, he turned into a goddamn human-torch, killing everyone around him — and he ran from himself and his own self-loathing. But managing all that at the end of a world full of Croats lurking around every corner was easier said than done. Until a mysterious man with tousled dark hair paired with blue eyes as clear as the sky during a hot summer’s day stopped him from free falling, literally. In one fell swoop, the stranger had not only saved his life but also calmed the wildfire threatening to burn everything in its wake. There was something about Castiel that made Dean want to stop running but also hid something darker — something Dean couldn’t quite put his finger on. And between soft, pillowy lips and feather-like fingerprints, Cas could very well shatter Dean’s world and maybe help save the whole world in return.

2. Empty Spaces by thisisapaige

48K Words // Chapters: 20/20 // 5K Hits // COMPLETED

//MATURE//

[Castiel] found the colour. It was a green, one of the few gentle colours at the edges of his dreams and the one he tried to capture in his paintings, never quite finding the right hue. He spent so long chasing the colours, trying to find it though pills and needles, but they always evaded his grasp. Yet he found one, right here, hiding in the eyes of a stranger. He studied the colour, the subtle differences between dark and light, the little flecks of gold nearly hidden in the sea of green, the ring around the outside. He studied it, trying to commit the colour to memory. The other man cleared his throat. “Uh, dude?” Oh. Castiel forgot the colour was attached to a person. ~~~ What if Castiel had fallen before the start of the series and met Dean on a routine hunt? Set in the spring before Dean goes to find Sam in Stanford. Intended as a three part series.

3. brightside by season12cas

17K Words // Chapters: 1/1 // 2K Hits // COMPLETED

//MATURE//

Cas’ arm around his body, well, that just— It feels good. It feels right. So when Dean does fall asleep, he’s pretty sure there’s a smile on his face.

4. Edge of Night by Sinelaborenihil

364K Words // Chapters: 61/61 // 71K Hits // COMPLETED

//EXPLICIT//

Following the events of Season 15 Episode 19 "Inherit the Earth", Dean Winchester finds himself struggling with his grief, despite what seems like a decisive victory. Then, in an instant, everything changes and he is given a second chance to explore what it might mean to allow himself to embrace a certain "profound bond".

5. There's a nail by Flurry_X

5K Words // Chapters: 1/1 // 6K Hits // COMPLETED

//EXPLICIT//

"Years and layers of denial and avoidance and stolen glances are pelted away from his body instantly, with the simple brush of Dean's palms over his skin. And for all that longing, all that swarming hive of doubt, all this time, it was as simple as reaching out." ----- If Destiel happened not with a bang, but with a whimper. Where they both just give into it. Castiel POV

6. There's a rule by Flurry_X

15K Words // Chapters: 3/3 // 7K Hits // COMPLETED

//EXPLICIT//

"He can see the sunburn blooming on Cas’s nose, the messy stubble covering his cheeks, the wet dip right above his lips, his eyes, blue and clear and staring at Dean with a longing that feels like it’s primal and raw and everlasting. And Dean wants to have him, wants to keep this, all of it, but he can’t say it. He doesn’t know how to love him in daylight, doesn’t know how to love him honest." ---- Sequel to "There's a nail" Where they take the road trip and try to figure it out Dean POV

7. Hautley's Bend by ColdIntheStudio

500K Words // Chapters: 42/42 // 268K Hits // COMPLETED

//EXPLICIT//

Castiel Novak is used to change. He's used to being the new kid in school. So when he moves with his family to the small town of Rail Pass, he doesn't expect things to be much different than the last three towns. But then he meets Dean Winchester, an aggressive fellow student who sees Castiel as the shiny new toy he and his friends get to mess with. Castiel has had his fair share of bullies in the past, but nothing like this. He's never felt this way about a bully, or anyone for that matter, before. Maybe something's wrong with him, that he could feel so attracted to someone who makes his everyday life hell. But then again, he sees the way Dean looks at him sometimes. And there's a lot more to Dean Winchester than meets the eye.

#destiel fanfic recs #destiel fanfiction #destiel #dean and cas #dean x castiel #dean is bi #dean winchester #deancas #castiel #castiel winchester #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #alternate universe #books and literature

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dearestgojo · 1 year

Text

Indifferent Love

Gojo x Fem reader

Summary: Satoru Gojo’s life gets turned around when you declare you’ve never held any feelings for him, and an arrangement is formed so that you may live the rest of your days in peace with each other. But upon your declaration, something stirs to life inside Satoru.

A/n: So sorry for the really late update, I got stuck on a pov.

Warnings:18+. Satoru gets touchy. Dubcon. Biting.

Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Series Masterlist | Wc: 13.7k

You wake up to the sound of the soft pitter-patter of the rain against the windows, gray clouds moving across the sky, casting a coldish gray tint on the city. The warmth of the blankets shields you from the room's coolness, beckoning you to snuggle deeper into them. You shift, nestling into the warmness, an arm pressing on your spine. Peeking over your shoulder you find Satoru still in bed, laying flat on his back with his head facing you. His torso is exposed, the warm sheets resting just above his hips, his nipples perked due to the ac running all night and the chill of the rain falling just outside your windows.

Slowly turning to your other side, clinging to the blankets and the warmth, you face him. It's the first time you've seen him while he sleeps. The tops of his cheeks are tinted pinky, probably from the blankets and meaning he had just pushed them down not long ago. The white lashes that draw your attention to his blue eyes curve up, and even in the dimness of your bedroom, you can still see the white of them against his fair skin. His white hair falls onto his forehead, curling around his ears unbrushed, some of it sticking up on the crown of his head, you smile as you think about the cowlick he typically wakes up with. Your eyes fall further down, past his neck to his shoulders, where light brown freckles that expand over the back of his shoulders sprinkle out towards the front. Your fingers twitch as you want to trace over them and draw tiny constellations on his skin.

You nuzzle yourself deeper into his pillow, the strong scent of his body wash filling your nose, and you watch him sleep. The act feels intimate, much more than you would allow yourself to be with him during his waking hours, but you allow yourself to enjoy the calmness of it. His eyes move behind his closed eyelids, the thin veins of his lids prominent against his white skin.

The sound of the rain is interrupted by loud thunder, the inside of the room flashes in blue, and the rain outside starts to pick up. You can feel the hairs of your body vibrate as the thunder echoes through the room. Satoru sturs beside you, the hair on his forehead covering his eyes, eyebrows scrunching up together. Your heart skips a beat against your ribs, the inside of your mouth feeling dry as you wait for the inevitable fluttering of his eyes opening.

However, they remain closed, the only company you have is the sound of his light snores, the thunder, and the rain. Biting into your bottom lip, you shift your weight, laying flat on your back, and watching the lighting paint the inside of the room. You lay there, listening to Satoru's soft breathing and feeling his breath brush against your neck. The stillness of the penthouse is calming, but you also feel unease being left alone with your thoughts.

Kenji's visit plays on your mind like a broken record, fear lodging itself in your throat, and the sting of tears in the edges of your eyes. You take in a deep breath, still feeling the imprint of his hands wrapped around your arm, and the heat of his breath when you spoke down to him. The image of his face is barely recognizable to you. That wasn't the man you had handed the entirety of your heart to, he wasn't the man you had loved. At what point after you left had he changed so drastically that you didn't even recognize him?

Curling into yourself you chew on your thumb, your heart pounding against your ribcage. What if he showed up at your front door again? What if Kenji decided to approach you while you were with Satoru? What if he approached Satoru? You couldn't let any of that happen not knowing the extent of how far Kenji was willing to go just to win you back. You couldn't let more people get hurt because of you.

Beside you Satoru stirs, groaning as he stretches on the bed, the back of his hand brushing against your back. The mattress shifts as he turns over to his side, facing your back, a few inches of distance still between his chest and your back. You can't see his face, but you can feel his eyes burning holes in the back of your head. Neither of you breaks the silence and just listen to the soft downfall of the rain against the window panels.

You aren't sure of how much time passes by before Satoru finally decides to cut through the stillness. His voice is still groggy, barely speaking above a whisper as the bed moves again, "We're going to be late if we don't get up now."

You can feel where his palm presses down on the mattress, all his weight resting on your side of the bed. Peeking over your shoulder you look at him, swallowing down the lump in the back of your throat. He's sitting up the sheets covering his from his hips down, chest exposed to the cold room. He's running his free hand over his face, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Clearing your throat you push yourself up, "Morning."

Satoru looks at you, expecting you to say more, but you remain still and quiet next to him. Your hair falls over your shoulders, and the strap of your nightgown slips off. "Of course, that's all you have to say," he mumbles under his breath, covered by the sound of thunder, "Morning." He gets out of bed, and walks towards the closet, coming back out with a button-up shirt and a pair of gray dress pants. He looks at you where you are still seated on the bed, looking out the window at the rain. "Are you not going to get ready?" he asks, shoving his arm through an arm hole.

"I am," you sigh, your eyes following the jagged fall of the raindrops on the glass.

He slides his other hand in, reaching down to start buttoning the shirt up, "When? Breakfast with my parents is in less than forty minutes."

You puff your cheeks, breathing out the air slowly, "In a minute. Just need a moment."

He doesn't push further and puts on his pants before rolling the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows. Satoru can tell something is bothering you, but he knows you'll avoid answering him if he brings it up. Instead, he looks out the same window you're staring out of, tearing his eyes from your exposed shoulder, finding the descent of the raindrop calming and distracting for a moment. The room falling under the same silent calm from two minutes ago.

You break the silence first this time, swinging your legs over the end of the bed, your bare feet padding along the cold floor toward the closet, "I'll be out in a few minutes." Satoru nods and watches you disappear into the closet, the sound of your shuffling through your clothes reaching his ears.

You run your fingertips along the cool fabrics of your shirts, slightly pulling them to examine them. You choose a light blue blouse with ruffles running down the front and a high collar. A pair of light brown wide-legged dress pants catch your attention and you reach for them, placing the stack of clothes on the bench that's in the center right across from a floor-to-ceiling mirror of the room before undressing. You avoid looking at yourself in the mirror as you pull the shirt over your head, forcing your head through the tight collar, and adjusting it around the shoulders, faint scars peeking out from beneath the hem. You slide your feet through the pant holes, raising the waistband to your waist, and tucking the blouse in, hiding the marks, it's only then that you look at yourself.

Your hair is still in disarray, and the bags beneath your eyes are prominent under the light of the closet. The pants you choose, cover your feet and drag on the ground, even after you slip into a pair of baby blue heels. It almost looks like you're wearing one of your signature long skirts. You blindly reach for a handbag and a grab pair of stud earrings and bangles as you walk out. Satoru's sitting at the end of the bed when you walk out, his hair brushed to the side, out of his eyes, a pair of black loafers hanging from the long fingers of his left hand while his right scrolls through his phone. He looks up when he hears you walk into the room, blue eyes looking you up and down. "That's new. I thought you'd wear a skirt again," he comments looking pointedly at your pants

You toss the handbag on the bed, making your way to the vanity as you slide the bangles down your wrists, "I thought it would be nice if I wore something else. We're just going to see your family there's no need for me to be extra and wear a skirt." Grabbing a hair tie, you look at him through the mirror, pulling your hair up into a ponytail, "Do you think I should have gone even more casual?"

He shakes his head and looks back down at his phone, "No. you look great in that, and were already running late as is." Standing up from his spot he, grabs his watch from the nightstand, looking at you once over as you tie your hair into a ponytail, "I'll be in the office, let me know when you're ready."

You watch him leave through the reflection, your hands high above your head as you pull your hair throw the hair tie, "Okay, I'll be out in a few." The room feels bigger once Satoru has left you alone, and for the second time since your wedding, you feel the loneliness swallow you whole once more.

Dealing with Kenji's sudden reappearance, and quite frankly frightening, was more suffocating when you found yourself alone. Satoru being around provides you with a sense of safety in the hours that followed, there was something you never thought you would feel around him again. A sense of security. With your husband around, it was easy to forget that you had been followed mere hours ago by your ex who was adamant about saving something that no longer existed. It meant you didn't have to look over your shoulder in your own home, waiting for Kenji to suddenly jump out of the shadows.

But now that you were alone in your bedroom, the only sound that of the rain, and you felt as if someone was looking at you from somewhere in your walls. Walls that felt like they were closing in on you, shrinking the space between you and the ghost that followed you. It made the back of your head itch.

Finishing the last touches of your make-up you, slip your earrings into three holes, tugging at the lobe of your ear. Humming you take two steps back, looking at yourself in the mirror, your eyes skimming the room through it, as you look yourself once over, swallowing the lump in the back of your throat. Grabbing your bag you head downstairs, your eyes scanning over the place, the palms of your hands sweating. Your heels echo throughout the entire space, bouncing off the smooth shining tiles.

You stand at the bottom step, staring at the clean kitchen counters, yesterday's evening playing before your eyes. The corners of your eyes prick and sting as the tears form, you blink a few times, breathing in deeply before turning to face the wall in front of you.

"I'm ready, Satoru," you call out, taking one step forward toward his office, standing right at the corner waiting for him to come out. You hear shuffling before you see his white hair peek out from his office. He glances at you up and down once before stepping towards you, nodding his head to the door.

"Alright, let's go then."

The ride down to the underground garage is awkward, but not tense, you stay on one end while he stays on the other. You exhale as the doors close, your body relaxing as you feel secure with Satoru standing a few feet from you. The doors ding open, Satoru steps out and leads the way toward his car, keys jingling in his pocket, walking a few steps ahead of you. Your body becomes alert, eyes scanning the dark spaces of the floor. Looking up ahead you see Satoru looking at you from the driver's side of the door, head cocking to his left as he watches you act weird. You shrug, and reach your door, quickly getting in.

Satoru climbs in afterward, silently starting the car, and exiting the parking lot. Your eyes quickly adjust from the overcast clouds after exiting the parking lot, small raindrops hitting the windshield, your eyes immediately scanning the people around you.

Satoru looks at you, his eyebrows raising, "Are you looking for someone or something?" Swallowing and shaking your head you turn around to look back ahead, running the edge of your pointer along the edge of your nails, watching the smooth edge dig into the skin. He turns back, adam's apple bobbing up a down, looking at you from the corner of his eye, "Has something been bothering you? You've been on edge since last night? I mean you almost jumped out of your skin when I got home last night."

You shake your head, letting out a sigh, turning your hand to run your finger over the smooth painted surface of your nails, "I'm fine."

He swallows again, watching your eyes dart across the street in front of him. "Do you really not trust me? Because I'm here if you want to talk about whatever is bothering you." Satoru asks, both of his hands on the wheel, adam's apple bobbing up and down.

You want to tell him about Kenji's visit, the comfort of his safety making you want to tell him so you can feel at ease, but bringing up Kenji meant sharing parts of you that you weren't ready to confront or share with him. "Why are you asking me this," you sigh heavily, "I already told you that nothing is wrong."

"I'm asking you because at times it looks like something is bothering you."

"Well, everything is fine. So just drive." you breathe out, picking at your cuticle, your eyes looking out into the street, avoiding Satoru's gaze.

"Fine," you hear him mumble, the leather of the steering wheel screeching beneath his palms as he grips it, "I won't push any further."

You swallow the salvia in your mouth, puffing your cheeks and whispering, "Thank you."

The head housemaid greets you as you walk through, Satoru handing her the umbrella, the rain behind him starting to pick up again. He lingers behind watching as you walk further into the house, walking past the study, your eyes lingering on the closed door. You glance at him over your shoulder, waiting for him to follow. To lead the way to the dining room in the back of the house, where his parents were already. He takes a step away from the door, putting his hand in his pockets, reaching you, and standing beside you.

You turn to the door, skimming over the frame and the knob, remembering the number of steps it takes to walk from one end to the other. "Do you always keep this door closed?" You ask, tilting your head to look at your husband, "I remember it always being closed when I first arrived. Even before then, I had never seen it open until I moved here and opened it."

Satoru's eyes move over the door, the palm of his hand pressing on the small of your back, pushing towards the dining room, "Yeah, no one really uses it anymore, so the doors just stay closed."

"Why?"

Satoru swallows behind you, watching the light from the kitchen pour out into the hallway, "Why what?"

"Why doesn't anyone use it?" You return, standing at the end of the hall, "The room is really cozy, so why don't you use it?"

He looks down at you, running his eyes over the arch of your eyebrow and the curve of your lips, his heart thumping against his ribs. Your eyes close slowly as you blink up at him, time slowing down around him. He has the urge to bend down and press his lips to yours. Raising his shoulders and flattening his palm on your lower back forcing you to start walking again, "We just don't have a need for it. Let's just go eat now, I'm starving."

His answer satisfies you enough, and you turn to walk the rest of the way into the dining room. Satoru walks behind you, his parents coming into view along with a table set of food, both turning their heads to greet you both.

His mother greets the two of you first, raising her hand to wave you over, "You're finally here, come sit, sit. The food starts to get cold, we've been waiting all morning."

You smile at both his parents, walking to his mother and hugging her. "Good morning," you beam and walk around the table to take a seat next to Satoru's old usual spot while he greets his parents with a hug to his father and a kiss on his mother's forehead.

"Morning," he sighs, sitting down beside you and immediately reaching for one of the sweets on the table.

"How was your morning?" his mother asks, the corners of her lips curved, the tone of her voice suggestive, "You took a while to get here."

Your face becomes flustered, words jumbled in your head while Satoru chokes on the sweet bread in his mouth. His dad who is usually stoic laughs, reaching across the table and patting his back, "Honey, you don't ask those types of personal questions at the table. It's a bit intrusive to ask that."

"Sorry, but it's the first time they're late for our Saturday breakfasts," she responds grinning over the rim of her glass of juice.

Satoru recovers from his coughing fit, rubbing a hand over his chest, "We're the late cause of the rain, mom." The tops of his ears turn a light pink, looking at you from the corner of his eyes, noting your awkward fiddling with your fingers, and the way you gracelessly way you reach for a serving of fruits. He looks back at his parents, grabbing a muffin from the center, changing the subject, "How was your morning?"

His mother sets her glass down, "It's been fine, even with the rain and all. Didn't get to work in the greenhouse because of it though. Y/n, you should join me next week if the weather is nice."

You cover your lips, nodding your head, "Of course," you swallow, dropping your hand, "I didn't know you gardened."

She nods, swallowing the bite of food in her mouth, "I do. Something I picked up when Satoru was about two or three, it served as a dis-a way to get some me time away from that little devil on legs. I don't think I have to explain myself to you, y/n, you live with him by yourself now, so you understand. Let's hope your kids aren't anything like him, or you'll have your hands full."

His dad laughs at that, "Let's hope they don't. I don't even know how many nannies we went through the first few years."

"I don't think I can't even count them on my hands."

You swallow a bite of your fruit, glancing at Satoru from the corner of your eye, "Was he really that much of a handful?"

She chortles, the corners of her eyes watering, "Oh honey you don't know the half of it. If I anything I think being around you as a child mellowed him out, but when you weren't around he was a handful. One time he somehow managed to climb his way up to the chandeliers in the foyer. We had to call the firemen to get him down."

"Really?"

"Really, took a whole hour since he wouldn't stop swinging on it," Gojo Sr. Replies.

"And if they are anything like him, expect them to also be clinging to you by the skirts. Satoru rarely allowed me anytime for myself."

Your lips curve upwards, taking a bite of pineapple, teasing him, "So you're a momma's boy."

Satoru ignores your teasing, taking a drink from his glass, and changing the subject, "Well if you didn't get to work in the greenhouse what did you do then, mom?"

"Oh, I tried helping in the kitchen, but I guess I was getting in the way cause they asked me to leave," She answers, the conversation fading into the background as Satoru continues to eat, his parents conversing among themselves after a few minutes, letting you and him have some peace while listening.

He glances at you, watching how you elegantly raise your food to your lips and chew carefully, nodding along to whatever story his parents are telling now. The sun peeks out from behind the clouds for a moment, rain still falling steadily outside the windows, casting a light on the side of your face when you turn to look at him. Your eyebrow quirks up when you find him looking at you, the sun disappearing back behind the gray clouds, and you lean in while raising your napkin from your lap. He stays frozen when he feels the soft material touch the corner of his lips, your eyes are cast low as your wipe the corner of his mouth. Your lips pursued together, and a low hum coming from the back of your throat. Time continues to be suspended as when you look up at him, your curled eyelashes more pronounced, drawing his attention to them. You sit back into your chair, smoothing the napkin over your lap once more, motioning to the corner of your lips, "You had some crumbs."

Satoru blinks dumbly at you, frozen in his spot as the seconds tick by before he clears his throat and slowly turns back to his food. The warmth of your hand lingers in the air around him, the soft pressure weighing on the corner of his lips, along with the sweet scent of your skin. He breathes out through his nose, swallowing the salvia in his mouth, uttering, "Thanks."

He spends the rest of the breakfast distracted by the fluttering of his chest and the flips in his stomach. He barely hears his parents address him until you shove your elbow into his side, forcing to ask them to repeat whatever question they had asked. His blue eyes glance at you from time to time, and at the bright smile that adorns your lips when you smile at his parents, feeling a spike of jealousy bloom in his chest. His eyes follow you down the smallest gesture.

Even now as the four of you stay in the foyer bidding your farewell to his parents for the week, his eyes are on you instead of the plans that are being set up. He dissects the curve of your lips and the glint of your eyes, trying to fit the puzzle pieces of what he knew of you into something, someone, he could see and understand. That is until you shove your elbow into his side once more, his hearing refocusing on the sound of his mother's voice.

"What do you say Satoru?"

He shakes his head, white strands of his hair falling out of place, "Sorry, I-i didn't hear you."

You tilt your head and look up at him from the corner of your eye, "You're mom was asking if you were up for us having a housewarming party next Saturday. Before dinner, of course."

"I...um...sure, I guess. I don't really know about that stuff, so it's whatever you want."

Satoru's mom claps her hands, "Alright then. Y/n and I can handle the details, all you have to do is show up, which shouldn't be too hard since it's at your house. Y/n, I'll come over sometime during the week and we can discuss everything, okay?"

You nod your head, hands clasped in front of you, "Okay, that sounds good to me." You hook your arm through Satoru's leaning into him, "We should really get going though. The rain looks like it's getting worse."

"Oh of course," His mom smiles, taking a step forward to wrap her arms around each of you, "It's so nice seeing the two of you."

His father gives a curt nod from where he stands next to his wife, "You be careful driving back, it's coming down out there."

Satoru nods, reaching for the umbrella one of the housemaids bring him, "We will."

The drive back to the penthouse is just as quiet as the drive had been to his parents. With your entire body turned to face the passenger door and the smile you had given his parents erased from your face. Even the ride on the elevator is tense, either one of you standing on different sides, the sound of the penthouse door cutting through the silence when it slams shut behind him, followed by the sound of your heels clicking on the shining tiles of your home. He walks behind you, hands shoved in the pockets of his pants, watching as you sit on the couch and kick off your heels in a manner that is so unlike you. Unlike the you he'd known for most of his life, the version of you he'd grown accustomed to, was always poised and refined.

Leaning on the arm of the sectional adjacent to you he watches as your rub the heels of your foot, his eyes darting to the large tv in your living room. The very same living you the two of you rarely shared.

"Want to watch a movie?" He asks suddenly, standing up and looking around the coffee table for the remote.

You shake your head and collect your heels while you rise from the couch. "I'm tired, so maybe next time. I'll see you for lunch," you sight out, patting his shoulder before walking away from him, the floor feeling even colder.

The sky cracks, white flashing outside the windows as you walk up the stairs, illuminating your silhouette, and he stands in the center middle of the living room. "Guess I'll see you later," Satoru mutters turning on his heel to shut himself in his office as usual. Both of you let the loneliness of your loveless marriage settle into your bones instead of working on building the phony relationship into one that would be believable to those outside of the four walls of your home.

"Ono, Dr. Nomura is waiting for you in room three hundred and one. She needs some assistance with the patient in that room," The nurse at the desk tells him, barely glancing up from his phone.

"Thanks for letting me know," Kenji answers, running a hand through the mess that is his hair and setting down the blue folder he'd been looking over. He makes his way over to room 301, people and rooms passing him, his head pounding as fluorescent lights shine down on him.

It's been a week since he showed up at your house, and he can still feel the knot lodged in the back of his throat when he recalls the look on your face when you looked at him. You had been scared of him at that moment, eyes wide with tears streaming down your face. You had shaking even as you held the knife in it. He'd felt the guilt of the frightened regard you held him with as you begged him to leave. He hadn't meant to scare you, but when you refused to allow him to clear his name and told him you would remain with your husband, he felt vexed at the thought of you making another man happy.

He nears the room, taking in a deep breath when someone walks out of the room next to the one he's about to enter, slamming face-first into his chest. He stumbles back, reaching forward to help keep the person steady.

"I'm sorry," he starts, glancing down to see Shoko's dark hair and her flustered face that quickly turns into shock and contempt.

"You're good," she mutters, quickly taking a step to the side to walk around him, and continue with her day as if nothing had happened. But Kenji stops her once more, stepping in front of her. Shoko looks up at him, eyebrows raised, her fingers gripping the clipboard pressed against her chest. "Can I help you with something?" She snaps.

Kenji looks at her, he runs the back of his neck, uneasy as he struggles to think about how to ask about you. While it was true that he'd had a decent relationship with both of your closest friends, he wasn't exactly on good terms with either at the time. After your falling out, Kenji had rarely seen either of them. The last time he'd talked with one of them had been a few days before your wedding, but it had been radio silence since then. So standing here in front of Shoko, he felt the palms of his hands sweating and the back of his throat dry as he croaked out, "How's y/n?"

Shoko looked up at him quizzically, asking, "Why do you want to know?"

Kenji shrugs, looking over her head, "I'm just curious about how she's doing." It was a partial truth, he did want to know how you were doing, but he also wanted to know if you had told any of your close friends about what had happened last week. He wanted to know just how much his unexpected visit had affected you, and if he still had a chance of winning you back. The silence that followed him had a knot forming in the back of his throat and the palms of his hands feeling clammy, he all but glared down at Shoko, who was considering if she should tell him anything about you now that you were married.

Letting go of her bottom lip with a soft pop she finally replies, "She's doing fine, moved to a really nice penthouse near downtown with her husband. I haven't seen much of her lately, she's been rather busy."

Kenji nods and looks around the hospital hallway, doctors and nurses brushing past them, "So you haven't talked to her this week?"

Shoko shakes her head, placing the edge of her clipboard against the center of her stomach, "No, she's been busy planning a housewarming party with her mother-in-law. I'm actually headed there after work."

"You are?"

"I am."

They both stand there awkwardly, Shoko thumbing the edge of the clipboard, neither knowing exactly what to say that their connection outside of work had been severed. They had never truly been friends, a realization that dawns on both of them as they stand on the side of the busy hospital hallway. It makes Kenji wonder that if hadn't walked into that party that day if he hadn't spotted you, would he and Shoko have become closer friends? or would they have continued as co-workers who would occasionally speak about a patient and run into each other? He knew that there was no point in asking himself that now, no sense in pondering over the what-ifs. He'd approached her with the attention of getting close to you and he'd accomplished that, that he and Shoko hadn't become close in the time you and he had been together wasn't entirely his fault. She could've also made an effort.

The seconds tick by slowly, both waiting for the other to walk away first, but neither going about their day. It's not until there's a large clang of a tray falling from the room Kenji was walking into that they start to move around each other, awkward goodbyes stumbling from their lips. Kenji pauses at the door, turning to look at Shoko one more time, swallowing the saliva in his mouth, "Do you think it would be okay if I went with you." He sees Shoko's unease, and can already hear the excuse she'd make to keep him from going with her, but Kenji is quick to explain himself. Quick to tug at her heartstrings, "I just want to see her, nothing more. I promise."

Shoko bites on her bottom lip, her heart wavering between doing what was right for her friend, and giving in to the broken man that stood before her. Kenji knew that if you were standing in front of her this very moment she wouldn't have made the choice that she does. "Okay. I'll be in the parking lot after my shift ends at five. We'll be a little late, but I already told her I'd be running late. I'll wait for you by my car."

Kenji gives her a lopsided smile and a curt nod, "Thanks, Shoko. It means a lot."

"Don't mention," she nods back and turns to walk off to whatever she had to do next.

The rest of the day seems to drag on slowly, patient after patient coming in through the hospital door, all while Kenji does his best to not let the workload weigh on his shoulders. He takes several small breaks in between patients, walking out into the hospital courtyard to smoke, which just reminds him of how you use to tease him about it. Telling him it was ironic that he was a doctor, but didn't have a problem with enjoying an occasional smoke. And now every time he'd lean against the wall, watching the birds fly overhead, and a cigarette dangling from his lips he was reminded of you. Even now as he walks out into the parking lot, lighting a smoke, he can't help but think and yearn for those days.

He doesn't make far into the parking lot before he spots Shoko. She has two cups of coffee with her as she leans against the hood of her car. Already rid of the white coat and dressed in a red blouse and white pants, her watch and a few bracelets dangling from her wrist. Her hair has been let loose from the loose ponytail she would wear to work, tucked behind her ears. She's sipping from one of the cups while keeping the other in place on the hood. She glances over the rim to spot him making his way toward her.

"You're not smoking that in my car," she states, pushing off the hood and handing him the extra cup, "I don't what the smell to stick to the seats."

Kenji sighs irritatedly, but still tosses the half-consumed cigarette, stomping out with his foot as he takes the cup, "Don't you smoke?"

"I do, just not in my car," she responds.

The drive to the is rather quiet, tall buildings pass by, and people are out on the streets. Life outside the window hasn't changed, but it seems to have lost some of its vibrance when you broke up with Kenji. Sure the birds still sing, and the sun still shines however life lacks magic, like the flowers swaying to the soft chirping of the birds, and the sun's rays sprinkling color along the streets.

Shoko interrupts his thoughts, turning at a light, both of her hands on the steering wheel, "Are you really just going to see her?"

Looking at her from the corner of his eyes, Kenji nods and looks ahead, your building coming into view, "I am."

Parking the car, she looks at him, eyes reflecting the warning tone of her voice, "I'm going to choose to believe you because I know how much you cared and loved her, but if you choose to step out of line, I myself will cut off your balls and feed them to you."

Kenji gulps and raises his hands, "I promise I'm just here to see her. I won't go near her unless she approaches me first."

Shoko exhales loudly, "Good. Then let's go." Both of them exit the car, Shoko two steps ahead of Kenji, leading the way to the elevator. The ride up is much like the car ride, silent, awkward, and tense. They both stand on opposite sides, Shoko leaning against one of the rails, her hand wrapped around it, facing Kenji. He feels her eyes burning a hole in the side of her head, as she asks, "How have you been?"

Suddenly Kenji is very much aware of the stubble around his chin, and the hair that curls at his ears. The stains on his shirt feel like a batman signal to the entire world that he was everything but fine. Swallowing the lump that forms in the back of his throat, he answers, "I've been better, honestly."

"Then do you think it's a good idea to come here and see her?" Shoko hums, brown eyes glancing at the numbers.

It almost slips that this isn't his first time coming here. That the last time he came here didn't go well. He swallows down the guilt that weighs heavy in the back of his throat. He tells himself that things will be different this time, he wouldn't react as he did then, and you would now feel safe with people around. Still, Kenji keeps in mind that things might take a turn south as they did last week, but he wants to remain hopeful that this time things will be different since the atmosphere will be different. "I don't know. I won't know until I see her," he replies as the elevator dings.

Stepping out first, Shoko peers at him over her shoulder, "Okay, then, we're here." There's the sound of laughter and conversation traveling down the hall, seeping under the large black door to your home, that makes Kenji doubt anyone hears Shoko's knock. And then the door swings open, the sound of chatter no longer muffled by the thickness of the door.

Kenji expects to see you answering the door, but instead, he's greeted by the sight of a white-haired woman with a bright smile and dressed in an expensive white sweater and light brown pants, hair pinned at the nape. She has a glass of red wine in her hand, cheeks dusted in a light shade of pink. "Shoko you made it," She greets, giving a side hug and pulling her in, "y/n and Utahime have been waiting for you." The woman glances back at Kenji who follows behind, hands shoved in the pockets of his pants, before leaning to not so much whisper, "I didn't know you were bringing a date. He's quite a looker."

"Oh it isn't like that, he's just a colleague."

"That's what all you young people say."

Their conversation fades into the background as he glances around the bottom floor. Dark eyes searching for you around the crowd, at least thirty people blocking his view. And then he spots you in the living room, seated on the couch in a white puffed long-sleeved blouse and a cream-colored knee-length skirt with a pair of white pointed flats, leaning into the side of who Kenji assumes is your husband. His hand slung over the back of the couch, his hand resting on your shoulder as he speaks with the dark-haired person sitting adjacent to him.

You look bored, sipping on a half-empty glass of wine, smiling when the two men look at you and nod. Utahime is nowhere to be found. The sound of Shoko's voice prompts you to look towards the kitchen, a smile starting to spread on your lips at the sight of your friend. That is until you spot Kenji standing between her and your mother-in-law, staring at you.

You stand abruptly, startling both your husband and his friend, wine swishing in its glass. Your eyes are wide with fear, lips opened, but they also reflect anger. Kenji swallows, nodding his head to greet you, and watches as your husband reaches up to touch your hand. You tear your gaze away from Kenji and look down at your husband, your lips moving as you answer whatever question he just asked before handing him your glass of wine. He hesitates as he takes it, and brings your hand up to his lips to kiss the back of your hand before you walk away around the large sectional, towards the three of them.

Kenji's eyes don't leave you just as yours don't leave him, he watches every step you take. The way you walk is graceful, your head held high, and one foot touching the ground before the next comes up, there's a slight sway to your hips.

You approach your mother-in-law first, your hand resting on her shoulder, "Saori, I think I heard that Mrs. Fumiko was looking for you." Turning to give Shoko and him a smile and a nod, "Hello."

The woman looks over her shoulder, her hazel eyes scanning the crowd of people, "Was she now? I wonder what that woman wants." She turns back to face him and Shoko, giving them a polite smile as she excuses herself, "It was nice meeting you, and Shoko it was a pleasure seeing you, as always, I'll see you around later."

The three of you watch the woman walk away, disappearing into the crowd before you turn back around to face both of them. Your face is unreadable, lips pressed together tightly, and your head held high as always. But Kenji knows you better than anyone, having seen you at your most vulnerable moments in the three years you were together. Your face might not say much, but your body language speaks for itself. One of your hands is clasped over the wrist of your other hand, hiding the fact that you're shaking where you stand. Your shoulders are tense, and your foot keeps bouncing as you look over at Shoko and speak as steadily as you manage.

"I need to talk to Kenji, please keep Satoru occupied," you say, hand pushing down on the door knob.

"Y/n I don't think this is a good idea," Shoko starts, glancing over her shoulder at the crowd, "People will talk."

You give her a tight smile, placing your hand on her shoulder, "Don't worry, this will be quick. Just keep my husband busy." With that, you pull Kenji into the room and close the door behind you.

The room you pull him into is dark, the only light that illuminates the space is the one coming from the lamp on the desk on the far wall from the door. It takes his eyes a second to adjust to the dimness, the large black leather sectional

"You need to leave," you angrily mutter through your teeth, your eyes darting toward the closed office door when some passes by, "Satoru's here, and you can't be here."

"Yeah, I saw that," Kenji grumbles, running a hand over his face.

Crossing your arms over your chest you glare at him, speaking sternly to him, "Oh don't sound so angry, especially after the shit you pulled last week. You have no right to sound like you're jealous. Stop showing up here unannounced. I don't want to see you ever. We ended things, and I'm married."

He lets out a sigh, looking at you, eyes saddened as he speaks to you, "I know that too. I've been reminded every day since I last saw you in your wedding dress. You've also made sure I don't forget that fact every time I see you. You don't even bother to let me explain myself."

"I don't want to listen to whatever bullshit you have to say. I know what I saw, and what I saw was you in bed with another woman."

Kenji clenches his jaw and growls, "I know that!" He takes a deep breath calming himself down, highly aware that people might hear him if he speaks any louder, "I know what you saw, but that doesn't mean I slept with her. Look, I don't remember most of what happened that day, so I need you to listen to me. I need you to allow me a chance to prove myself to you, and then we can go back to how things were."

Your hands drop to your side, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. He can see you thinking your next words through thoroughly. Weighing the cons and pros of allowing him to clear things up.

"Even if I give you a chance to clear your name, it doesn't change the fact that I'm now married, and that I'm not going to divorce my husband. In fact, I can't divorce him, and you know that." You tap your foot on the floor, and glance at the door, "I think this is the last time we should ever see each other. My husband is outside this door, and I have guests to attend to,"

Kenji cautiously approaches you, he waits for you to step back as he raises his hands. Dark eyes scan your face for any signs that he should step back before his rough hands grab a hold of your face. A small sigh escapes his lips when you don't move away from him, the ache in his heart nulling. Your skin is as soft as ever, but your face feels much smaller now.

"You've lost weight," he comments, running his thumb along the highs of your cheeks.

"My weight is fine. I'm fine." You reply, unconsciously melting into the warmth of his hands, eyes closing as you inhale the strong woodsy fragrance of his cologne.

"Your face is smaller," He continues, voice laced with concern, "Have you been skipping meals again?"

Your eyes open, and you look up at him with a softened expression while you answer with a deep sigh, "I'm eating just fine. I'm truthfully eating more than I use to since I barely do anything these days but lounge around this place."

Kenji drops his hands, standing straight in front of you, the heat of his body radiating off, "You know I can't let you go that easily, right?"

You visibly swallow, holding your head high, eyes lachrymose and voice quivering, "I know," You open to say something else when the door to the office suddenly opens, making the two of you turn toward it.

Satoru stands at the door, hand resting on the knob as he looks at you two with his head tilted while you and Kenji look like two deers caught in the headlights of a fast-approaching vehicle. You're both frozen in place, staring directly at the person who brings the entire farce you had spent months building tumbling down. Your husband moves into the room, leaving the door open, speaking as he closes the distance between you and him, "I didn't know anyone was in here." His tone is accusatory, and the gaze of his eyes and the lopsided grin when he finally stands beside you tell you all that he's thinking. Satoru wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side and pressing a kiss to your temple, teasing you, "I've been looking everywhere for you, honey."

You allow yourself to be pulled into his side, your arm encasing his waist. All while you look at Kenji, whose fists are clenched, "Well, I'm right here."

Satoru's eyes go over Kenji's figure, from his feet to the messy overgrown hair that curls around his ears, "Yeah, I see that."

You tear your gaze off Kenji and look up at your husband, pulling off a bright smile, "Oh, I don't think you two have met. This is Kenji, he works with Shoko."

Extending his hand, Satoru offers it to the dark-haired man, "It's nice to meet you, Kenji. I'm Satoru Gojo, y/n's husband."

Kenji looks at you once, biting the inside of his cheek before taking Satoru's hand, "Likewise. You have a lovely home."

Their hands drop, and Satoru looks down at you. You who are still looking at Kenji, with a look he can't read. A look that has the inside of his stomach twisting and dropping. He clears his throat and looks back at the man in front of you, "Well, I hope you don't mind, but my mother is looking for my wife, so I'll be stealing her from you."

Forcing a smile, Kenji shrugs, "Not at all. I think we've both finished saying what we need to say."

"Again, it was nice meeting you. Enjoy the party, there's plenty of food," Satoru's hold on your waist tightens as he starts to lead you out of the room, "Come on honey, mom wanted to ask what you wanted to do with the chocolate cakes since no one seems to be touching them."

Kenji watches the two of you walk out of the office. Anger and frustration mix as he watches you walk out in the arms of another man. His frustration grows when Satoru leans into your ear and loudly whispers, "Do you hang out with him a lot?"

You keep your eyes ahead while your husband leads you through the door with a large hand on the small of your back. Headshaking a little while you walk out to mingle with the guests, "Not really. He's more of a friend of Shoko and Utahime's."

You blink up at the man, his and extended with a red cup, and a lopsided smile on his lips. You eye the cup, watching the bubbles fizzle up to the surface, the soft sound still reaching your ears even over the sound of people's chitchat.

Shaking your head you decline the drink, your eyes scanning the crowd for Shoko who had dragged you to another of her work parties, "Sorry, I don't take drinks from strangers."

The man nods, dropping his hand, and following your eyes, "I understand that. Are you looking for someone?"

You peek at him out the corner of your eye, noting his strong jaw and plump lips, "I am. My friend. I came here with her, but we got separated when her boss wanted to introduce her to someone, I haven't seen her since then."

"What does she look like? Name? Maybe I've seen or know her," he asks, turning back to look at you, "I also work here."

You twist your head to look up at him, chewing on your bottom lip. He's looking down at you, eyes expectant. Turning back to the crowd you describe Shoko to him, "She's about this tall, with shoulder-length brown hair, that is tied into a bun, and she's wearing a baby blue dress that stops above her knees." You pause for a moment, "Her name is Shoko Ieiri."

The man snaps his fingers, making you jump a bit at the sudden sound, voice rising excitedly, "Oh, I know Shoko. I think I saw her go outside a few moments ago."

"Oh, Hime must be here," you reply, pausing to scan the crowd, ready to make a beeline towards the front of the building, getting ready to excuse yourself, but the man speaks first.

"Can I ask how you know Shoko? I know she has pretty friends, but I didn't know she had a friend as beautiful as you."

"We're friends from high school, and kinda roommates," you answer, barely looking up at him, your face feeling as if it's been set on fire.

He hums and nods his head, "Wow, that's a long time to know someone. So I'm betting you live with Shoko and Utahime since they're roommates."

"I do know Utahime, and my living situation is a little complicated, so I room with them sometimes." You turn to him when your brain registers just how much he already knows about your friends, "Sorry if this comes out rude, I know how you know Shoko, but how do you know Utahime? And that they room together?"

He takes a sip from his glass of wine before answering you, "I've been over to Shoko's place over a few times and I've met her a few times. Though I've never seen you there."

Squinting your eyes you choose to believe him, and turn your attention back to the crowd, spotting Shoko and Utahime on the other end. "I kind of still live with my parents, so I'm only at their place when I need a place to crash before an exam."

"That explains why," he smiles, the curve of his lips making your stomach do flips, "I didn't get your name though."

Taking in a deep breath you catch a whiff of his cologne, and the world around you seems to pause for a moment as you give him your name. "Y/n L/n," it sounds like a whisper in your ears, the words freezing, engraving the words in that moment in time, waiting for his name to be carved next to them. "What about yours?"

"Kenji. Kenji Ono."

The sound of the knife slicing through the grapefruit echoes throughout the bottom floor of the penthouse, and Satoru glances up when he hears you curse. The knife has been dropped on the cutting board, grapefruit cut into eight slices, and you're holding your finger up to your lips, muttered curses falling from your lips. If Satoru hadn't felt a pang of panic at seeing you hurt he would've been shocked by the string of words, but he finds himself standing quickly and walking over.

Reaches for a paper towel, pulling your hand away from your lips to wipe the blood off. He sounds worried when he speaks to you for the first time this morning, "Does it hurt a lot? Did you cut deep?"

You blink up at him, staring at the curve of his eyelashes, surprised at the tone of his voice. Your voice quavering as you answer, unsure of what to make of the action, "I'm f-fine. It was just a small cut. See I barely even bled, just need a bandaid, and I'll be good." Tugging your hand out of his hold, you hiss when you feel your finger sting.

Satoru drops his hand, taking a step back and letting you wash off the blood, his brain catching up to his body. He feels confused by his own action, blue eyes staring at the blood that washes down the drain. He clears his throat, "Okay, I'll go get the first aid kit, we still need to clean it a bit so it doesn't get infected. You wait here." He pulls a stool out and heads to the open office door.

He makes way for his desk, reaching behind it to pull out the drawer where he keeps a small first aid kit with bandages, alcohol wipes, and a small bottle of hydrogen peroxide. When he looks back up, he finds himself replaying the scene in which he had found you yesterday. Alone in a dimly lit room with a man standing much too close to you for his liking. The air had been tense between the two of you, both quickly stepping away from each other when he stepped inside.

Satoru hadn't brought up last night, too tired from the afternoon to start an argument he'd lose to you. So he had watched you as you got ready for bed and climbed in next to him, your eyes had that far-off look that you woke up with this morning. The same eyes he was sure were brimming with tears yesterday when he dragged you off. He'd spent most of the night awake wondering who the man was to provoke such emotion in you to have you crying. To risk getting caught in what could be a scandal for the two of you.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, he walks out of the room, his stomach swirling with an unfamiliar feeling that makes his head hurt. He finds you sitting on the stool he'd pulled out, a paper towel pressed to your finger, small dots of red bleeding through. "Still bleeding?" He asks you, dropping the first aid kit on the kitchen counter, peering at you from the side of his eye. He looms over you, forcing you to tilt your head back to look at him and nod, "Okay, put your hand here, and I'll clean it up real quick."

Satoru works quickly, ripping an alcohol swab open and cleaning the small cut on your finger, his hand coming up to grip your hand when you jerk away when it stings. He then cuts a small piece of a bandage, making a note to buy bandaids the next time he finds himself at a convenience store and wraps it around while he rubs small circles in the center of your palm.

"There, that should keep it from bleeding or getting infected," he says, skimming his thumb over the bandage, your hand much smaller in his. He fights the urge to press them together and see just how much bigger they are, and his touch lingers on the palm of your hand, listening to your quiet breathing. He waits for you to pull your hand back, but you remain still, your eyes burning holes on the top of his head. "Are you really not close to that guy from yesterday?" He asks, pressing down on the heel of your hand.

Your breathing stops for a moment, and he can hear you swallow before you answer, "I told you, he's close to Shoko and Utahime."

He looks down at you, long white lashes brushing against his cheeks. You avoid his gaze, focusing on his thumb that's digging into your skin. He laughs under his breath, "Then how come you were in a closed room with him?"

You tense up in his hold, not responding immediately and pulling your hand from his, "I already told you that he's closer to the girls, I've only run into him a couple of times. If you're going to accuse me of something, don't be around the bush."

Satoru had expected this, after months of living with you he grew to know that you always had to have the last word. Whether it was about him leaving the toilet seat up when it had been you early in the day when you had been cleaning, or misplaced items you would later find where you had left them, the last word always had to be yours. And by the look in your eyes, this time was no different.

He breathes out through his nose and steps back defeated, "Fine if you say so." You get off the stool and start to clean the grapefruit and board off the counter while he picks up the kit. The floor is filled again with silence, the sound of the AC clicking on echoing throughout, nothing out of the ordinary for a Sunday morning for the two of you.

He turns to look at you, taking in your form that's only covered by a thin satin slip and untied robe, your hardened nipples peeking through the thin material. He knows his shooting, especially just avoiding a fight, but his feet move on their own, and his chest is pressed against your back. His right hand grazes the exposed skin of your thighs while his left slips beneath the top half, large hand cupping your breast. He smiles into the back of your head, inhaling the sweet smell of your shampoo, when your breath hitches and you elbow his stomach.

"W-what are you doing?" your voice shakes, legs clamping together when he pinches and pulls on your nipple.

His breath fans over the nape of your neck, the hand on your thigh dipping into the inner part. His voice has dropped an octave, the sound has you leaning into his frame while he speaks to you, "Apologizing."

"You can apologize using words," you squeak, your legs closing around his hand to keep him from going any further, "And I'm not even ovulating, so there's no point."

Using his nose he nudges your hair out of the way and licks behind your ear, grinning when you yelp and squirm against him, your ass rubbing against the growing bulge in his pants. "I know, but you did agree that we'd talk about having sex outside of that. Right now seems like the perfect time to start."

"I agreed to talk about it, to arrange something, which we haven't, so please let me go," your voice trembles, body sinking deeper into his touch subconsciously.

With his strength, your husband manages to pry your legs open, fingers traveling up your nightgown, kneading the fat of your upper thighs. He doesn't go further, and slowly ruts into you from behind, whispering in your ear, "So let's come to an agreement now. Five times a week."

Your cheeks burn, your breathing grows heavier, and the corners of your lips start to drool. You shake your head once, and mumble between breaths, "Three more times a month outside of when I'm ovulating."

"I'm a married man, not a monk," he groans, pushing his hips harshly against yours, and causing you to tumble over the counter. Your fingers gripping the edge, the body growing hotter under his touches. The inside of his mouth is starting to water, and the sound of your sweet whines has his head spinning so much that he can't think of anything but you, "Three times a week. Five when it's your ovulating week."

He turns you around, picking you up and wrapping your legs around his waist. He buries his head in your neck while he makes his way for the living room couch, large hands spread on the globes of your ass. Your breathing and swallowing heavily against his ear, your mind becoming overwhelmed by his presence and his needy touches. He's sure if he keeps this up you'll agree to anything he wants.

You shake your head, opening your lips to propose something else, but Satoru sinks his teeth into your shoulder, making you cry out. His groans into the bite, your nails digging into his shoulders, before he drops you onto the couch.

He runs a tongue over his bottom lip while looking down at your pouting face, your fingers running over the bit mark, "Did you really have to do that?"

Satoru smirks down at you, dropping down to his knees in front of you, and pulls your leg over his shoulder. He nibbles on your calf, slowly moving upwards, "I did. You were about to say something that I wasn't going to agree to." He's at the hem of your slip, both your legs thrown over his shoulders and his fingers splayed across the back of your thighs, pushing your legs towards your chest, massaging them. "Come on, y/n, three times a week isn't that bad. Especially when it's going to be me between your pretty legs."

Looking up at you through his lashes, he can see the doubt in your eyes. Your bottom lip is caught between your teeth, and your hands are gripping the end of the couch. But your chest is also rising and falling rapidly, and your upper thighs rubbing against each other. There's a dazed look in your eyes that can only be described as lust. Satoru pushes his luck a little more, his head slipping under your gown.

He laughs when you jump upwards towards his lips when his breath brushes against your sopping core, a wet spot in your cute pink panties. He nibbles on the inside of your thighs, groaning when he feels them squeeze his head. You groan above him, your hand coming to rest on the crown of his head.

When you talk you sound out of breath, your voice quivering as you give in to his bid, "Fine, three times a week, but that's all," you swallow moving your hips closer to his lips, "Don't try doing it more than that. Got it?"

Pulling your legs up until your thighs are resting on his shoulders, fingers pulling at the waistband of your underwear, he agrees hesitantly, wanting to push for the five times a week, "I got it, don't worry. Now let's get started."

Satoru isn't sure what you did to him. Maybe you cast a spell on him the first night you spent together as husband and wife, to have him craving your touch. Or maybe your words that day, when you said you didn't care for him, had hurt his ego so much that he wanted to test just how true the words were. Whatever you did, or said, had his chest fluttering just by thinking of you. It had him on the verge of devotion, of becoming the sole believer of whatever religion you were.

Satoru glances up from the paperwork in front of him, Yuna stepping in with both her hands clasped in front of her, the falling sun casting a warm yellow glow over her face. She gives him a smile, slowly approaches the front of his desk, and places a stack of small papers. “These are the last papers you have to sign today,” she takes a step back, “I’ll be leaving now. Is there anything else you need sir?”

“No, you can go,” he answers, inhaling through his nose and reaching for the papers, “Have a nice night, Yuna, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You too, sir,” she nods, turning on her heel and exiting the office in a hurry, not giving Satoru the chance to change his mind.

He chuckles and turns his attention to the last of his work, quickly signing off his name on each dotted line Yuna has marked, his mind wandering to you. In just less than an hour he'd be back at the penthouse, eating a warm meal that you cooked, before climbing under the covers next to you. In less than an hour, he'd have his arms wrapped around your warm body. He finds himself grinning while he daydreams about it. His smile falters as Suguru's words replay in the back of his mind.

Do you think you have feelings for y/n?

Satoru wasn't sure of his answer still. He doubted he could call the daily routine the two of you have fallen into over the course of the six months of love. He didn't know if the way his shoulders untensed at the sound of your voice welcoming him home could be called love. Or if the way he'd find himself randomly daydreaming about you would be considered love.

Because to him, love was the way his father would place the cup of sugar closer to his mother's side of the table. Love was the way his mother would make sure there were at least two things at the table his father would enjoy, the way she would warm his towel or clothes before he changed. It was the way his father would ask for the flowers to be changed as soon as the single rose in his office started to wilt. Love was the way his parents would look at each other, eyes softened and tiny smiles exchanged while holding each other's hands. say from his left, the sound of popping gum echoing in his ears. He turns his head slightly towards the sound, spotting the owner of the voice.

You and Satoru did now of those things. But it still didn't explain why he found himself seeking out your warmth whenever he could.

Signing his name on the last paper, he stands and reaches for his jacket that's draped over the back of his chair, the sound of his feet filling in the space of his office as he exits. The door closes behind him, the halls of the top floor almost bare of any life, a few of the employees pausing to wish him a good night and weekend, while others are too eager to get home that he doesn't even register to them. He leisurely walks towards the elevator, hand shoved into the pocket of his pants, humming to himself.

Satoru lets the people who arrived before him get on, politely declining their offers to let him on first, knowing just how eager they are to arrive home. He can see it in their faces, can see the enthusiasm of the married men and women to arrive home to their families. And he finds himself thinking of you again for the millionth time today.

A smile outstretches on his face as he rides down. Your face flashes in his mind and the sweet sound of your "welcome home" reproduces in his ears. If he focuses enough he can even catch a whiff of your shampoo and perfume, of the smells of the kitchen swirling while you move about in it. The smell of your tasty cooking substitutes the smell of coming from the scent of the aromas coming from the cafeteria when he steps out following the crowd.

He trails after everyone into the street, the sound of the cars driving past draws him out of his thoughts. The street is busy, with people grabbing taxis to head home and others walking in and out of the small shops and restaurants that decorate it. His eyes scan the shops, looking for a small flower shop he had walked by several months back.

He freezes in his tracks though when he hears his name being called out over the sound of the engines and the chatter of people. It's dulcet and saccharine, but Satoru knows all too well that there's also venom laced in the sweet melodic sounds.

He turns to find a woman with red-brown hair and light green eyes. Her white heels click on the sidewalk as she emerges from the corner of the building she had been leaning against. Her long baby blue pants touch the ground, and her midriff is peaking between the waistband and the hem of her matching top, her shoulders exposed despite the cold. She grins at him, the red tint of her lips drawing his attention to them, a color he used to favor on women.

"You've been avoiding me," He hears someone say from his left, the sound of popping gum echoing in his ears. He turns his head slightly towards the sound, spotting the owner of the voice.

Taking a deep breath he says her name, leaving a bitter taste inside his mouth as he takes one step towards her, "Mina."

The woman smirks, pushing herself off the wall she leaning against one, her tall heels clicking on the cement, "The one and only."

How long had it been since he had last seen her? Freshman year of college? Perhaps, he wasn't sure, all he remembered at this moment was the smile that played on her lips the last time they saw each other. A part of him still recalls the ache he'd felt in his chest as he watched her walk away. He still remembers the warm mornings in their dorms and the way his shirts would swallow her. The sharpness of her tongue when they'd fight and she'd call him nothing but a spoiled brat who'd had everything handed to him before telling him to jump off a cliff.

Three years older than him and he'd thought he'd be able to build a future with her every time they found themselves making up. But she had apparently thought otherwise when she graduated and left to work abroad. Telling him she'd just seen him as a pastime, her little boy toy.

Satoru's nails dig into the palm of his hand as Mina nears him, the strong citrus aroma of her perfume engulfing him in it. He stares down at her, blue eyes clouded by anger. All he wanted was for her to get out of his sight. "What do you want?" He asks.

Mina pouts up at him and leans closer to him, fluttering her lashes, "Oh don't sound so mean 'Toru. We haven't seen each other in a while, don't tell me you're still angry."

Standing up straighter, Satoru unclasps his hands, small red moon crescent shapes imprinted in the palm. "Why would I? Like you said it's been years, and I'm married now."

"I heard," she grins, straightening back up, "Is that the same girl you wouldn't stop talking about back then? You know the one you said was a bore."

He answers through clenched teeth, "And if it is."

Mina bites her bottom lip for a moment before grinning, "Mmmh, that's surprising."

Satoru gulps, inhaling through his nose, speaking sharply to her, "Why are you here? What do you want from me? Why are you did show up all of the sudden?"

Mina looks around the street, both her hands behind her back, "Let's go get some coffee. For old time's sake, and we can talk then."

"I'd rather not," he declines, "I have to go home. My wife is waiting for me."

A low whistle leaves Mina's lips, the grin on her face spreading, "Wow, didn't think I'd ever hear you say those words, but fine, I guess we can talk here." She takes another step closer to him, their breaths almost mix together, talking just loud enough for him to hear him over the sounds of the busy street, the corners of her lips spreading further across her face, "I just wanted to see you."

You hear the bedroom door open and shut, soft muffled steps traveling through the closed bathroom door. Shrugging you turn the faucet on, listening to the sound of the water filling the tub, your hand dipping in and out of the warm, causing waves to ripple through. Steam starts to fill the room up quickly, the mirrors fogging up, and some pouring out through the small crack of the door.

Your husband is rummaging on the other side. His shadow passes by the bathroom door as he digs through the nightstand on your side of the bed. You don't pay him any mind, and keep waiting for the tub to fill, ready to wash away the stress of the day. The trip to the orphanage and preparing the dinner right afterward had tired you out. You had also decided to pay a visit to your parents, listening to your mother's drunken ramblings about the gossip that everyone was talking about. Then you went and had lunch with the girls, Shoko's tight schedule forcing you to meet her at the hospital for a quick bite which in turn made you run into your ex-lover. The sight of him causes the inside of your stomach to churn and your heart to flutter. You were thankful he didn't speak to you, and just gave you a nod of acknowledgment before continuing on with his work.

After all that, you were more than ready to find some quiet time for yourself. If only your husband would stop making noise outside the door. Letting out an annoyed sigh, you shut the water off, and stand, undoing the knot that kept your robe closed. The cotton robe drops to your feet, the cool air of the bathroom nipping at your skin. The sounds outside the bathroom door stop.

Satoru hovers by the door peering in through the crack in the door. Your back is facing him, sitting, the towel around your body dropping down to the floor, pooling around your feet. Satoru swallows the spit in his mouth, watching your back muscles flex as you reach up to clip your hair to the back of your hand. His blue eyes trail down your body, his pants feeling tighter.

You climb into the tub, slowly sitting down and resting your head along the edge. The warm water helps your body relax and the stresses of the day vanish. The scent of lavender spreads across the room, your eyes drooping closed, and the soft sound of shuffling coming in from your shared room.

The door creaks open, cold biting at your exposed shoulders for a moment, before clicking shut. You don't have to open your eyes to know that Satoru has walked, the sound of his footsteps on the tiled floor is familiar enough after him doing this multiple times already. You feel him kneel next to the tub, his hand dipping into the warm water, which softly slushes. You wait for him to say something, but he remains silent by your side.

Peeking at him through your lashes you see him staring at the bubbles that obscure his view of your body. The collar of his shirt is sticking up, the top three buttons are undone, and his hair is disheveled. There's a long distant look in his eyes, a lost look, and his teeth are digging into the corner of his bottom lip.

You close your eyes again, sinking deeper into the water, and ask, "What's wrong?"

There's no concern in your voice, but Satoru looks up at you for the first time since he walked in. You relaxed, he tell that much, and he doesn't want to ruin it. "Nothing. Just a long day." He dips his hand further into the warm, feeling the heat of your body when his knuckles brush against the side of your thigh. Some of the tension in his body eases up, and he wants to be closer to you suddenly. "Mind if I climb in?"

You peer at him through your lashes again, wanting to see if he has any ulterior intentions, but you just find him staring at you with a sad puppy look. His bottom lip jutted out while he waits for you to give him permission. You sigh, feeling the water already starting to cool, "Fine."

Your husband quickly rises to his feet, undoing the rest of the buttons on his shirt before hastily undoing the buckle of his belt. He sits on the edge of the tub and pulls his socks off, almost falling into the water still fully dressed. Meanwhile, you relax back into the water, watching as he pulls his pants off, followed by his shirt being tossed on the floor.

Satoru climbs in behind you once his fully undressed, long legs encase you, and his semi-hard length presses onto your back. He wraps both arms around you, pressing a soft kiss onto your shoulder, which doesn't surprise you anymore after months of his shows of affection growing. Resting his chin on your shoulder, he starts to hum and you relax into him, letting the low vibrations soothe you.

"Did you have a long day at work? You said you'd be here earlier, but got here later than you said." You mutter, rubbing circles onto his hand.

He leans his head onto yours, his humming ceasing for a moment, "Kind of. Some unexpected work came up and I had to get a quick bite with someone."

"Were they important?"

He pauses again, "I think at one point they would've been, but they're not as influential now."

You nod your head, letting it rest on his shoulder, "Well, let me know next time, I was waiting for you to have dinner."

"Sorry, I will."

"Thank you." The bathroom falls quiet for a few moments, Satoru's warmth enveloping you as the water turns lukewarm. Suddenly you recall an important, one that you had made sure to remember for almost twenty years. "Your birthday is coming up."

"Yeah. In two more weeks. Why?"

You shrug, "It's the first birthday we'll be spending together since high school, and I was thinking we should do something." You open your eyes and look at him, "So what do you want to do?"

He blinks at you for a few moments, as if your asking him was out of the norm. Maybe he thought that you confessing that you no longer had romantic feelings for him meant you won't remember important dates such as his birthday. He finally answers with a shrug, "I don't know. I usually just have dinner with my parents or go on a trip with Suguru, but we haven't talked about anything."

You purse your lips, "Okay then...How about a mini-vacation? Somewhere with lots of good food, and sweets? We can invite your parents, Suguru, and a couple of other friends."

Satoru grins down at you, "Are you being considerate?"

You playfully slap his arm, "Look just because I don't love you, doesn't mean I want you to have a horrible birthday." Raising an eyebrow you lean closer to him, "So, mini-vacation, or would you rather do something else?"

He smiles again, pressing his forehead to yours, "A mini-vacation sounds great."

"Then it's decided," You say getting up, cold water dripping down your bare body, "Now let's go to bed. I'm tired and I want to sleep in tomorrow before going to your parent's."

Satoru groans as he follows you out of the tub, wrapping a towel around his waist, "I forgot to bring clothes. I'll see you in a little." With that, he disappears into the dimly lit bedroom.

You shake your head as you watch him leave, towel hanging low on his hips while drying yourself off and changing into a nightgown. You clean up afterward, the sound of Satoru climbing into bed and reaching your ears while you do so. The last thing you do is pick up the discarded robes, throw them into the bin of your clothes, and spot Satoru's clothes on the floor near the tub.

You pick his shirt up, ready to toss it in the clothes bin, but you catch the scent of another women's perfume. One that doesn't belong to you or his secretary.

Taglist(closed): @thetempleofnyx @legbouk @purplecandygerl @cloudsinthecosmos @watyousayin @descargueestoporgojosatoru @moonlightaangel @the-amaranthine @vintagexparker @fushiigumi03 @pyschopotatomeme @mekorausada @belovedcherry @my-names-angel-but-im-not-one @kellyyween @shintin @rntrsuna @crispmarshmallow @weebotaku21 @ekaterinatepes @artemisthestar @levisfav @lezgohome @winter-bearv @attackonsimpp @rogueofbullshit @no-name-jack @katelyns-stuff @to-sneak-away-and-hide @nobamakiist @shuxjodie

#gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #gojo fic #satoru gojo x y/n #gojo x yn #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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the-hinky-panda · 5 days

Text

The Winter Series: Part I

Title: The Winter Series: Part I

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You're the wife of the Captain of the Red Guard and own an apothecary shop in Paris. A chance meeting with a dashing Musketeer changes the entire course of your life, if you're brave enough. (Trigger warning for domestic abuse, infidelity)

Tag list: @bullet-prooflove

You’re used to being on your back. Pinned down, eyes closed, waiting for George to finish so you can wash up and write the latest pieces of knowledge that you’ve acquired concerning compounds, herbs, and alchemy. You try to think about words you’re going to string together, how the slant of your writing will fill the page. Then the illustrations that you’re going to draw, the scrape of the quill against the parchment as you draw the blossoms of the lavender spikes in your small garden. Anything, you think of anything to distract you from what George is doing to you.

It’s not like that with Aramis.

He allows you to take control. You keep your eyes open and focus on as many details as possible during these intimate afternoon rendezvous. The words that fill your mind are the descriptions of how his hands feel against the skin of your ribcage as he steadies you, how it feels to lower yourself onto him, to be filled by him. How it feels to have a choice as to when a man enters you. The pictures you would draw of him beneath you, color rising to his cheeks, dark eyes growing darker with each roll of your hips.

The ecstasy that hits you both is indescribable. That’s when you lose your words and pictures, the world shatters around you. It’s like dying and being reborn in the same moment.

Peace comes afterwards. You enjoy the quiet that invades the storage space of the shop as well as your mind. Aramis contentedly traces random patterns against your back and side while you lay your palm against his heart, waiting for its pace to match your own. He pulls you closer to him in the pile of the blankets on the floor, presses lazy kisses against your neck, murmuring lines of poetry and adorations. For you, someone who has never run out of words, you find it difficult to tell him that this experience with him is unlike anything you have ever had before in your life. All you can do is try to memorize these moments as detailed as you can before having to return to your world where kindness is just a memory.

***

“Who is it?”

The jar of dried peppermint leaves almost slips from your hand at the sound of George’s voice behind you. Your thoughts had been on the previous afternoon’s occurrence, replaying the light touches and soft kisses shared with Aramis while listening to the rain fall on the roof. You slip your spectacles into the inside pocket of your bodice, an alteration that Constance had done for all your corsets to ensure the safety of your repaired glasses.

“I didn’t hear you come into the shop, George.” You brush past him as you continue to measure out the order for the peppermint. “What do you mean who is it?”

The strike is quick, fast enough that you never saw it coming and hard enough to knock the scent of mint out of your nose. “Don’t play your word games with me.”

You can taste the tang of blood in your mouth and you swallow it down. “I don’t know what you’re asking.”

“Who is the man you’ve taken to our bed?”

You try to hide the slight tremor of your hands by busying them with wrapping up the satchel of herbs. “You share the same bed as me. If I brought someone else in, I would think you would take notice.”

He leans on the counter and waits for you to look at him. “I did notice..”

You hold his eyes in a soft defiance. There’s no possible way for him to know. All your encounters have been at the shop, not at your home. George hates the shop, only crosses the threshold to take things that he wants: you or the money that you’ve made that day. You don’t even know if he’s aware of the second floor storage room. “What makes you think-”

Another strike, against the other cheek this time.

“What makes you think you can embarrass me in this way?”

“George-”

“It is my good graces that allow you to keep this shop open, to allow you your…indulgence of independence. If you want to keep the shop in your ownership, I suggest you remember your place and end this affair before you bring any more shame to my name. If not, it’s being sold to the highest bidder.” A cruel smile curls his lips. “Perhaps that would be in your best interest anyway. I dare say two years is enough time to adjust to married life. Caring for children and managing the shop will be too great of a time constraint for you.”

You feel the icy grip of terror go through you at the thought of having children with this man. It makes you more fearful than that of having your affair come to light. If this is how he treats you, how in the world will he treat your children? You couldn’t bring a child into a home where they would know the same violence and fear that you do. You swallow down your pride and nod with downcast eyes. “Thank you for your generosity, George.”

“That’s better.” He moves towards the front door and picks up a small jar of dried nettles. “What is this used for?”

“Teas. It helps with swelling and gout.”

He’s looking right at you when he drops the jar, glass and nettles spilling over the floor. You may be able to save some of the herb but the danger of having shattered glass mixed in there is too great. Thankfully, it wasn’t too expensive but you didn’t want him to know that. With a sigh, you pick up the broom and bend down to start cleaning up the mess. You’re reaching for a piece of glass when his boot rests on the back of your hand. You hold your breath, praying he doesn’t put any more pressure on your hand.

“What is his name?”

You set your jaw, locking it tight. He’s taken so much from you, he’s not taking this. You’ve found a glimmer of happiness, joy even, and you’ll go to the grave before condemning Aramis to George’s obsession. Your resolve damns you though and your prayers are unanswered as he slowly applies his weight and the shard of glass cuts deep into your palm.

“A reminder then, of your place and who you belong to.”

#aramis x reader #aramis x you #aramis x OC #aramis #bbc musketeers #aramis musketeers

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ladythornofrivia · 8 months

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wounded echo

Pair: shinichiro x reader

Warnings: depression, self-harm, psychological abuse, self-hatred, toxic drama

A/N: i decided to write this chapter because i don’t want to leave this story behind. and i love the story of little mermaid.

please report if anyone decides to steal/plagiarize my work and notify me. thank you.

Please listen to this song while reading this series. I'll be posting this link every time I made a new upload.

youtube

Chapter II: Fish Out Of Water

You watched the humans celebrate with their unusual birthday tradition. On the night of the coastline and shore shimmered. Every night, a night life on a human land was something you haven’t seen. The significance between the night between heart of the deep shores and and the clear lands is there were no constellations and bright lights sparkling like diamonds, so much flicker, so much brightness in all colors. You envied the humans who lived in a life with colors and sun, and while having the light of sun bathe through the waters, you couldn’t help what it feels like to live and breath air and bathe under the golden daylight that bask and tingles your skin with glowing warmth. Ripples under the surface, it sickened you. Nothing ever changes. Everyone around you are the same as if the time is still but merfolk still moved—or somehow feels like you’re starting from the beginning of time. Then it repeats. Stilled, though motioned.

Ripples under the surface has bored you.

Echoes bellowed through the night. Raging and excited scream came from above. You haven’t gone down the water. You wanted to explore more. After all, you don’t want to spend another moment in the water during your birthday, which your family tends to forget. Even up high, the escalation in your heart proceeds, the overwhelmed sensation flowed through you, hot and chilled at once. Your heart wouldn’t stop in ease. Everything is unfamiliar to you as if you have stepped out of the cage, you felt so small while the world was just another shark with honed teeth, waiting to eat you. The world is a shark, and you’re only a small fish, wandering.

The booming noise still came through. When they moved along the steep road, the fins on your tail swiftly dipped and splashed the water, following them. Blood rushing into you, your breath ragged as your arms maneuvered farther. You didn’t want to lose them. You have gone this far to bend the rules and rules are meant to be broken. Sometimes when your heart yearned for something, the goal matters, never mind the life or health or consciousness you possessed.

Chasing them in the water, your eyes never lost sight of the men, wild and free. As you, your heart, has been captured by fascination, like any merfolk. But there was something more that you’re more aware of. Their legs.

Being a mermaid, with fins, it helped you swim faster, which you are grateful for, but seeing men riding weird vehicles with two legs, has caught your eye. You studied them some more by the time they hit the beach. You hid by the wooden pillar, watching them stomp and explore at the spacious bridge. From there, they continued their celebration; they didn’t want to block the traffic.

They kept drinking, whilst the young boy called as Mikey, sat down and ate his birthday cake, similar shape as a fish. You never have a birthday cake before. Let alone sweets that they spoke of. Even the young man who adores his little brother, despite Mikey’s attempts on poking fun at Shinichiro.

Shinichiro.

His name caressed into your tongue and head like silk. All your life, you heard nothing but your sisters’s names and your parents’s names—sickening and exhausting. Lustrous ivory skin on a young man’s face was glowing with benign aura. His cloudless, dark eyes squinted as he smiled and cheered, drinking the fizzling substance in his lips, laughing and chatting, as the lively expression on all of his companions.

Several minutes had gone by, and despite your weary state, you still keep watching them from under the bridge.

"Seriously, when are you going to give me a dorayaki?" Mikey whined, his hand shook the fabric on Shinichiro's coat, then kicked him by the calf.

Shinichiro winced. "Hey, watch it! We're having a celebration. And I think you'll like it even more than a dorayaki."

Mikey pouted. "Why not? Why not buy the snack now?"

Shinichiro tsked. "You just have to wait, buddy," he said, ruffling Mikey's blond hair again. Then it became silent, leaving the rumbling waves crashing on the shore. You stayed at the pillar underneath Shinichiro's feet. With a clear shot of his innocent, youthish face, you couldn't help but fall for his charm--hypnotic and silence of breath captured you in silence.

"Happy Birthday to you," someone sang. Within seconds, the men clapped, beating the rhytm of the birthday song. There, one of the founding members held a giant cake that shaped like fish as two tall members behind the man with white-haired locks, gave an endearing smile.

As the birthday chant goes on, the ocean waves grew louder. Everything became uneasy; the shift in your weight became lightfeathered. The waves are carrying you with brute force. The louder they shouted, the more the ocean waves drowned the noise. Whoever causd the commotion in the waves brought a great deal of disturbance in your stilled composure.

"Happy Birthday to you~" then the burst of applause imploded. The lightning rumbled in the skies.

As Mikey was about to blow a flag-like shaped candles, the bridge rocked for a short second.

When Mikey held his breath in again, the bridge rocked again, causing the birthday cake to splat. The shaking stopped; everyone gathered altogether in confusion. As they gathered in relief, there's one person who Mikey is aware of someone's absence.

"Where's Shin?" Mikey panicked.

The gang searched around with their pivoting heads.

"Shin," Mikey shouted. Realizing his jacket has been spotted, not on the floor of the bridge, but the cold, dark and churning waves.

Shinichiro was nowhere to be found.

"Shin!" Mikey bellowed, when he was about to dive after him, one of the founding members held him back.

"Don't do it, Mikey," a man with a scarred face said.

"I can't! He's my brother, I have to save him!" Mikey reasoned.

"Someone get him!" another member shouted. The men hesitated at first, but they haste, mounting on their bikes and arrive at the coastline to fetch their leader.

As you dove your way into the deep waves, you searched for him. Shoving the frozen water in an alarming pace as your breath ragged, yearning for Shinichiro to be unconsciously breathing at the challenging environment. Compare to him, you swam farther, for you to realize that your eye caught a certain glowing light inside the ocean. The glowing light you have spotted was none other than Shinichiro. With a silver glow of your glitter fins, you gave the spare energy and reached him, enclapsed your arms underneath his waist and dragged him upwards to the surface. The upcoming tsunami nearly came to a close, for the waves suddenly went still.

~~~

It took long to reach the land's surface, back where they celebrated the young boy's nameday. As your inner strength brought Shinichiro back on the dry shore, you noticed that not only you have contacted the land's surface, but you have also contacted a human, a very first human your heart is longing for a curiosity. Everything you have seen, still overwhelms you with awe and welcoming. The unfamiliar warmth glowed onto your skin as you looked and have slightly unguarded by the golden sunlight.

The sun and the molded sand by the beach has reached the potential of your fascinations stretched higher to its reached heights. Your heart soared as your daydreaming of other world has plagued into you, drawn to a farther place away from darkened familiarity.

The man before you still laid unconscious, exposed with soft porcelain skin, soft lines on his stomach appeared hard and solid, his long and lush locks of raven hair pressed down against his forehead, breathing.

Your head pressed down against his chest, hearing a loud noise between thumps.

You have shaken him first. Again, you felt no response from him. Then you tried to open his mouth to hear his breath against your ear and raven hair strands.

The silver glitters on your skin--limbs, shoulders, and back--prickled. It didn't hurt in the slightest, but it comforted you with warmth. Slicking his wet hair back, you have never seen a handsome man who is not only kind, but also a sense of joyful area he spread around his companions.

Your voice ached to come out, to call him in his sleep, to call him with your waking sound.

And so, you gathered a courage to find yourself immense with quietude, with your thundered heart, you sang.

You have a gift of song and sight, you perusuaded your voice to those who come and want to know you. But to your family, your gift of voice and sight, was useless to them, calling your talent "nothing" and "futile" to use for kingdom's future.

"You won't go anywhere with your useless talent," your own mother and father said. And when you defended your natural-born gift, your family has stripped your privileges away, and have thrown you into a golden cage, to "repent" for what you have done.

You have done nothing wrong but to value your assets.

in a golden cage, there's no out there to call you, not one to glance or check on you. The golden walls in the cage has been filled with your broken tears. No one came up to you and realized what they have done.

"We didn't do anything wrong," they said, over and over and over again, like being stuck in a limbo.

As your tears soon drown to faded silence, your parents unlocked the golden cage. "Have you learned your lesson," they asked with a smile and wide, glaring eyes..

Merfolks are often happy creatures. They love to laugh, to sing and dance and chat, playing instruments and have bond with other creatures, yet strayed from sharks and things are decayed from the human lands. That's where your heart was set in motion as you first saw the abandoned cruise ship somewhere in the Atlantic ocean. All stayed in one circle the moment your heart was set on something more than just simple prosperity.

The moment they noticed your act, they not only ignored you, they always find ways to berate you that isn't based on your actions. Their projections were laid against you. Each day, your days have gone colder than last--unloved and untouched, and yet touched by the unloved.

Nothing has ever repaired or redeemed. So you went your ways, minding your business. And thus, the longing for leaving and residing elsewhere is better than the familiar cold comfort.

His breath had caught your attention. The cough of water spat from his heaving chest as his back lunged forward with his eyes tight shut, pain and filled with drowning salt water. You knew that humans cannot drink water while you are immune, not that your life is aquired to drink liquid.

"Shinichiro," you whispered, caressing his sticky, wet locks with sigh of relief.

"Shinichiro," you repeated, your voice grew louder.

You felt his heart stopped. His eyes were open, seeing you, all basked in glitter and an adorned smile. But before he could get a clear shot of your visage, the men nearby shouted his name.

"Captain!" someone said.

"He's here, he's here," another member said, and all the men hopped over to the beach and dashed towards their sleeping leader.

Thankfully, you managed to exit the way towards the splashing water, swimming away to the bloudered rocks, watching him getting dragged and hoisted up by his men. Meanwhile, Mikey rushed over to his side and booted Shinichiro by the leg.

"Ow," Shinichiro groaned. "That's unecessary, Mikey."

Mikey suddenly tackled him with a hug. "You big idiot," he said.

Noticing Mikey's unsual reaction, Shinichiro said, "Are you crying, Mikey?"

"I'm not crying," Mikey responded, still clutching to his older brother.

Then Shinichiro scooped Mikey up into his arms, shushing him. "Don't cry, Mikey. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

The men surrounded him nearly weeped at the sight of a brotherly bond between their leader and their leader's young brother.

"We'll go buy you dorayaki, okay? Sorry that the party is ruined."

"You didn't ruined it," Mikey pouted. "It was that stupid ocean and the lightning struck."

And that is the moment where you wanted to reach your goals on stepping into the dry land, but unsure how.

Either way, the fire that enflamed in your heart and scales still lingers.

Lingering behind the large rocks as you watched Shinichiro looking to the distance of the swaying sea. "Someone rescued me," he uttered, letting go of Mikey.

Then racing towards the wet coastline. "Someone's saved my life!"

"Who?" a founding member with white-colored hair said, flabberghasted.

"She sang to me. She have the voice of an angel," Shinichiro said with a hopeful sigh.

"She?" a man with bulky appearance said. "Shin, you couldn't even get a date. There's not a girl in plain sight. Plus I don't any girl would survive in a deep ocean that is infested with sharks and jellyfish and lots of poisonous stuff that's under that salt."

"You get rejected all the time," a man with a scar said, scoffing. "I doubt it. Maybe it's just waves that are carrying you."

"I think you drowned too much," a man with white-colored hair added.

"I thought this is sad, but it's actually way worse than I thought," Mikey said.

"Hey," Shinichiro said with a sad expression.

"Remember how you got rejected for the twentieth time? You got a large booger hanging on your nostril. Your right nostril," Mikey indicated his pinky finger near to his nostril.

"Knock it off, Mikey," Shinichiro warned. "Or I won't be buying you a dorayaki. I'll even buy it without a flag."

"Awww, no fair, Shin!" Mikey kicked Shinichiro at the back, making him fall, then to be picked up by his companions and lead straight farther from your reach.

You yearned to see him again, to hear and acccompany him as your heart sang a song for him. You must do what you must do. You have to find a way to reach the land.

~~~

By the time Shinichiro and his men disappeared from your sight, you dove back in the water. Your heart grew heavy with anxiousness. You didn't want to go back to your homeland. You'd rather stay with the sharks and poisonous corals and reefs. You'd rather be tied up in a net, rather than lingering another hour or two to be spent away being degraded by your parents and siblings.

Your head went spinning, and your body went sluggish. As you went back on following a path, the path you created for a shortcut to your home and your secret hiding spot. Your secret hiding was spacious, filled with human collections, one that nobody in merfolks know how to use, or does think it's just pile of rubbish garbage. You wanted to know every human contraptions work.

Going inside your secret place was your way to relieve yourself from depravity and withdrawals.

In your grotto, you collected many possessions, even attires from the olden ages. You pressed your fingertips against the fabrics. Some are scratchy, some are soft and silky, you haven't touch anything unlikely before. You wondered to yourself of what was like to wear frabrics hugging to your skin. Sometimes your hands touched between the human possession and your fin scales.

Things would have been different if your family has completely ignore you as if your existence deteriorate.

Things would have been if you could sing aloud of how much you're inspired to see and change your ways of life as a mermaid rather defending their ideals. Why change for the merpeople by sacrificing your views when they could never sacrifice their pride for a child's plea for understanding and compassion?

None of them are enough to see the fiery difference from you. To them, your passion and different views are nothing but a threat.

"Shinchiro," you whispered. Your saddened heart was calling out to him. The voice of your heart has spread from the coursed veins until reaches to your ears, defeaned to a secret hymn that sent from your heart. Your fingers prickled as your yearned to reach closer to him.

You're quick to notice that on that night you rescued him, his long, black coat was missing. You wanted to search far and wide for the coat, but knowing how stretched the ocean is, your doubts overcame. Chances are, the coat has been torn apart or being wasted by the octopus's ink or evaporated by the jellyfish's sting.

Regarding to his belonging, you returned the olden cloth back at the pile and dashed out to hunt for his coat without help.

Over and under, you're searching for the black goat. You planned on returning the coat to him. But your energy has grown and overspent. You wanted to rest, you wanted to eat, but you'd rather be sick and starve than eating the same food for a last decade. Even when staying as your trueself to your ideals, you still want to change your life by avoiding them. You doubt that they'll "miss" your presence, so it should be a good start for you to move forward.

A large being dashed and passed by you. It was blurry you couldn't make out what it was until it shows your friend--only friend--Melo, the Beluga whale.

"Hiya, (y/n)," Melo greeted with his fin flapping.

"Melo," you said with gritted teeth. "Not so loud. I don't want any creatures in the ocean to come at me."

"Sorry," Melo said with a sympathetidc smile. "What are you looking for anyway?'

"Something important," you said vaguely, eyes darting in panic motion. "I have to find it or else I won't be able to see it again."

"What was it?"

"It's something important. If I say anymore than that, I might get punished again."

"Well, come on, let's go find it," Melo encouraged, went ahead and hunt for the missing item.

Which possibly might not be soon found. But if you let this go now, you won't be able to see him again.

"What does it look like anyhow?"

"It's long," you described. "And it's dark."

"Like a squid's ink?'

"Well, I," you said. "I just--look it's hard to describe. I just have to get it back before it's gone for good."

Your heart raced as you search further, spotting anything is long and dark-colored coat. But none of them are accurate. They're mostly sea creatures shifting from one hiding spot to another. At this rate, your tears threatened to fall, Melo noticed and came by at your side, nudging his head to yours, then your hands clapsed. "I'm sorry," you said, weeping in the middle of nowhere, where are no creatures or boulders or seaweeds. "I need to get the coat back to someone."

"Back on the land?" Melo assumed.

"Yes," you whispered. "I can't let them know."

"Don't worry, (y/n)," Melo said. "I'll make sure to feed your family to the sharks when they cross the line. After all, we've been gathering to many human collections for a long time."

Your fingers swiped your hair strand aside. "I know. I just I want to bring it back up to the surface."

"Wasn't your nameday yesterday?"

"Yes, but my family decided to change the laws and made it all about themselves as the last evening's supper."

Melo frowned. "Even sharks have better mannerisms than them."

You said nothing but to stare off into space, wandering what could Shinichiro be doing.

~~~

{In Land}

Somewhere far, and even in his sleep, Shinichiro could still hear the beautiful voice of an angel.

Under a hot climate, Shinchiro lunged himself awake, breathing hard in his personal room at the garage. Everywhere he goes, and in his bike shope, his hears could hear the sound a song's calling. The sea has drowned him and has been mercied by the grace of his savior. His savior's voice has been ringing in his mind and heart since that night.

I have to go to the beach again, Shinichiro thought. If I could find her, I must have clues.

Under a nightfall, he grabbed his keys and left, leaving him with a motorcycle, a song became louder as he sped his bike on a road. The song's calling was getting louder, numbing him, beguiling him closer. Dismounting, Shinchiro rushed by the coastline, the moonlight shone as the hymn upon the continuous waves, crashing.

He must find a way to give gratitude from a grace of his savior.

~~~

"Have you found it yet, (y/n)?" Melo huffed.

"No," you said, shoving the tangled seaweed down on the ocean's floor. "Nothing."

There's no hope for me now.

"It must be somewhere around here," Melo insisted with a merry grin.

"Oh," you said, swishing your hand. "That must've been the stingray."

"No, really, come on, we can't give up!" Melo's fin flapped--pointed at the direction ahead of you.

Squinting your eyes, you depicted a flowing object with a small glint of sliver on its back. Before you know it, your heart sped, unknowingly why.

"You want to go get it for you?" Melo asked. "You look tired."

"No, we'll go together," you insisted, and Melo voluntarily pulled you up.

As you made your way, you spotted a black substance on the floor. When you take a closer look, it was no doubt that you have found Shinichiro's coat, being stuck under a heavy, rusted anchor.

You gasped. "This is it!"

"That's the one you've been looking for?'

Your head nodded vigorously, hugging the coat to your chest once you pulled the coat out from the hook without leaving a scratch with a help from Melo.

"Thank you, Melo," you said, hugging him.

Melo, on the other hand, knew something was off, as if your usual sad self is gone and went back to happiness. He has no intentions of belittling you. Just like you, Melo is also curious of the human world, but don't have the privilege of having human-like appearance. As long as you are happy, is what all matters of Melo's happiness.

He knew something that is beyond from searching the coat. He knew that your enamoration grew higher.

The love of land is still there, but there's something more than meets the eye. More than the sound of the sea, the sound your heart has drawn into more than the your heart's longing, but love.

Taglist: @galactict3a @colored-tr-panels @slay0368 @the-haitani-baton

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catastrophe-cole · 2 years

Note

Hello! Could you write a Mumbo Jumbo x a easily flustered Reader? Just Mumbo flirting to get them all blushy and stuttery because he finds it adorable and endearing :]

Paid With A Kiss?

Word count: 1690 words

Summary: Mumbo Jumbo is a gentleman, he would never ever tease you for how adorable you acted around him, and he would never exploit such adorable trait of yours. Unfortunately, under the influence of red life, he seems to lose just a few knot of his self control.

Genre: Romantic // small mention of injury and blood

Author's Note: I feel like this went a bit off than what the request is supposed to be but I love how it turned out so I hope you like it too!

Mumbo is known, or at least, seen as one of the hermits who are quite meek and shy at first hand. His gentlemanly attitude and choice of fashion gives the impression that he would faint at the slight gesture or display of affection from a person he admires.

And for a good while you believe it.

Knowing and befriending him for so long, his stuttering and easily flustered self has become a sort of endearing. Not that you would ever admit about it right up to his face, but you enjoy seeing his pale complexity turn red.

That's as far as what you had experienced and known of. And most of it seems to change starting from that one time the two of you are a part of Last Life.

Despite being on red, Mumbo seems to be heavily attached to you despite your yellow status. You had given him a life or two before during the series, you offered him another, to help him back up to yellow, but he kindly refused your offer.

And somehow you let him stay around your base. You let him use your mining entrance, breed and slay your cow, dump all his resources into your chest, etc etc.

It feels.. Fairly intimate, to share this level of trust with a red name if you have to admit.

Though you're not one to complain, the server's currently in absolute chaos with all the plotting and revenge against each other, you'd much prefer to have Mumbo as an ally during such time, especially since you have a couple of life to spare still.

That, and perhaps one other reason.

During the time of Mumbo being on red and yellow, he feels a bit more.. Aggressive, somehow. He voice his opinion more and he doesn't hesitate to grab your hand and pull you away from situations should things escalate south.

You can't say you hate it.

Every time he'd seemingly casually grab your hand you would use your sleeve to hide your face while following him to wherever he takes you, tactically hiding your growing blush due to the absolute crush you have on the moustache man. Though unfortunately, you're not very subtle at it.

Mumbo noticed it, of course. Being by your side ever, giving his loyalty to you after you had given him a life, all are mere ploy to stay close to you and pull these reactions with ease.

He was one of the unfortunate one, starting off with only two lives. Though he was lucky that he stumbled upon you during the early time the server starts, as you offered him your life in exchange for his aid should you need his assistance.

He was super relieved back then, and perhaps was a bit into the moment, when he just instinctively grabbed your hand that had given him life and planted a chaste kiss on your knuckles. His lips ghosting on your skin as his eyes closed shut, before he stares up to you from the ground, and swears his loyalty until the end.

That was the start of how he found out how absolutely adorable you are, blushing by his boldness.

He'll admit that he's not the best at relationship and the likes, but damn the Void he'll cross the End just to see you flinch and look away while hiding your blush after he had touched you in the most innocent way.

And perhaps it was the effect of the red life that made him bolder by day.

You have done a little bit of exploring outside your base to find Scar and see if he's willing to trade for you to use the enchanter. You wanted to give Mumbo a small extra protection since he seems to be keen on not having you waste another life on him.

Unfortunately enough during your secret meeting with the mage, a stray skeleton and a couple of creepers had come by and decided that it was right to break your shield and let one of their stray arrows hit your shoulder. You're fine, a little bit scathe, but the situation wasn't life threatening.

It's just that the pain on your arm hurts like hell. Healing takes time, and even after you have walked through blocks and blocks of terrain back to your home, that time is still not enough.

Mumbo noticed this, of course, as he had been taking care of what seems to be a small miniature of redstone traps right by the front of your base. He had never gotten up from his seat so fast as he rushed to your side, grabbing you by your healthy arm as he looked at you with concerned eyes that burned with glint of anger behind them.

"What happened- I.. Who did this?!" He was furious, not to you obviously, but to anyone or anything that had caused your arm to bleed through your ripped sleeve.

You shook your head, hand resting by his chest, giving him a small smile, "No one, Mumbo. Calm down. It was just a skeleton with an enchanted bow who attacked me and Scar."

"You and.. Scar?" Your answer doesn't seem to satisfy him as he still seems as furious and as anxious as before, "What were you- Love what were you doing with him? I told you not to venture too far! Joel is out like mad, I don't want you to risk it!"

You can feel your cheek grows hotter, not by the pain on your arm but by the affectionate pet name he had just casually given you. Trying to brush it off casually, you turned to your inventory.

"No- No Mumbo it's fine. I'm- I'm fine, we were fine. We picked a good spot away from everyone. And besides I need to use the enchanter from him."

"I could've gone out there instead of you.."

"Well, yes but then I wouldn't be able to give you this." Before Mumbo could feel further guilt, you pull out a shining diamond chestplate, one that is lightly glomming with purple aura of enchantment.

"You had.. Done a lot for me, a lot more than what we actually had agreed on and I'm.. The only thing I can offer you is my life. And since you seems to insist that you don't want me to give my life to you, I thought maybe.." you took a deep breath, clutching the chest plate while still looking away from him, somewh growing slightly embarrassed because you noticed the way he gave you almost the entirety of his focus to your words

".. I thought maybe, I could give you some extra protection instead. You know, to keep you safe—"

Before you can finish, he has pulled you into his chest. Arms wrapped around you securely, careful as to not squeeze your wounded arm as he holds you there.

"Wh- Mumbo?! What're you—" again, he interrupted your words with his action. He promptly buried his face into your hair, holding the back of your head before he does what you can only assume to be kissing the crown of your head.

You're pressed against his chest but Void can you hear your own heartbeat hammering against your eardrums.

"Thank you." He mumbled to your hair. You couldn't reply to his words as he pulled away, staring down at you with a thin yet beautiful smile.

You're acting like a fool, that's what's happening. You really want to reply to his words and actions, anything, but you can only timidly mumble out a 'you're welcome' as you promptly try to hide yourself away from him. Which are quite difficult, considering that he had basically eradicated any distance between the two of you.

You, not paying attention to his handsome face, missed the moment that his genuine smile turned into a mischievous one as he tilted his head to the side, trying to get a good look at your flustered expression.

Not being able to actually get a good view of you, he gently slid his hand towards you jaw, holding your face gently, caressing your cheek with his thumb before subtly lifting your face up to see him.

He's so ridiculously smug by the fact that you seem quite dumbfounded by his actions. Instinctively, he slid his thumb over to your chin, caressing softly before he let his touch ghost over your lips.

"I thought I was the one who's supposed to be flustered by this grand gift?" He chuckled, watching you swallow your lips as if you were simply at a loss for words. He's so close, everything feels so hot and your heart is absolutely going wild. Was this a dream?

"Let me pay you back with something more valuable than this chestplate, love."

He can't seem to hold himself back, properly cupping your face in his hand, he promptly leans forward with his lips aligned with yours. Just a few inches away from your lips, his moustache lightly caresses your face, before he just slides up and kisses the space between your eyebrows instead.

"Cute."

You just got clickbaited!

You can only stare up at him in absolute disbelief. His mischievous smirk is there just as he pulls away from you. Honestly you were about to whack him with the diamond chestplate and cause some thorn injury, but when you see the slight disappointment and glint of hope in his eyes, you curbed the violent urge away. And instead, use that rage to grab onto his red tie, and yank him down back to your level.

"I- I'm sorry, Mumbo." You swallow hard, staring at his widened eyes, "But- A.. That- I don't think that'll be enough to pay me back for this.. Uh, diamond chestplate."

It seems like he's the one who's baffled. It took him a minute, too entranced and in love with how flustered you look and how bold you've suddenly become, but he's quick to regain his composure and took position for your request.

"Well, then I guess on the lips is the proper demand. I would not want to be indebted to you for long."

#hermitcraft x reader #the life series x reader #x reader #reader insert #mumbo jumbo x reader #mumbo x reader #anonymous #mcyt x reader

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doingitforbokuto · 4 months

Text

The White Knight - Chapter Six

-> KNIGHT!KITA SHINSUKE X PRINCESS!READER

-> Previous Chapter

-> Series Masterlist

Summary: Your father wants to protect you, no matter at what cost. But what does that mean for your future? Can you still be with the man that you love if your father has different plans for you?

Words: 3,521

Warnings: talks of arranged marriage, wound treatment (not graphic, mentioned), angst, talks of death

Your Point Of View

The needle pushing into your skin stung, no matter how many times it happened. The royal physician rushed to your room as soon as he heard what had happened. The news of what had happened to you had spread throughout the castle like a forest fire after a maid walked past your room and was alarmed by Kita shouting for her to get help.

Your knight had not moved from where he kneeled by your bedside. When the physician came to deal with your wound, he only shuffled a bit to the side to give the other man some room to work. But he did not leave. Just like he promised. Maybe he wanted to leave, to find the man who had done this to you, but you held onto his hand so desperately that there was no room for any questions: You needed him here, with you. So he stayed.

Other knights had already been sent out to capture Garret anyway, so Kita could best serve you by helping you stay calm during the painful treatment of the wound. It was hard to stay still when every time the skin on your collarbone was touched, when even the air that brushed against it seemed to burn. But that wasn't what you focused on. You focused on the hand that was holding yours, on the only touch that you would ever need in your whole life. Had anyone else's touch ever felt this good? You could not remember. It was like his hands were the ones you had been longing, waiting for your whole life. Nothing else mattered. Not even the pain, not the fears. They all vanished the moment you closed your eyes and focused on the man beside you, on his breathing, on his skin on yours. There was no other feeling that mattered but the love you had for him. Even if he didn't feel the same way. Even if it could never be. At least you could love him now, you could bask in his presence now. And you would continue to do so for as long as you could. You hoped it would be a long time.

The door to your room was shut again, but not locked. Under normal circumstances, Kita would have left the room as to not disturb the work of the physician, but now, you had insisted he stayed. After all, you didn't know who to trust anymore. No one argued with you about that. Your safety was the most important thing right now, anyway. If they thought that him holding your hand was improper, they did not mention it. At first, Kita had tried to pull his hand away from you, but you held onto him firmly. You needed him.

Other people could interpret the touch as something romantic, as a sign that there was more than an appropriate relationship between the two of you. You knew that, of course. But that did not change the way your whole being longer for him. You still wished that he would hold you longer, tighter. Wrap his arms around you like he had done when he had carried you to your bed. If he would just touch you like that again, everything would have been worth it, just to feel his touch for one second again, you would go through all of this fear and danger all over again. So you held onto his hand, whimpering as another stitch was made. If having a wound was what would make him keep his hand onto your skin, you would gladly take that pain. His touch made you forget all of the bad things that had just happened to you. The only thing you could feel in that moment was him: His warmth, his skin on yours.

With a concentrated look on his face, the physician finished the last stitch on your wound. In order for him to be able to work on it properly, he had to remove your dress from your chest, leaving you in only your underdress. Your chest was still covered, but the cut of the underdress was much deeper, exposing just the tiniest bit of the soft swell of your breasts that was usually hidden by your clothes. Like the gentleman that Kita was, he turned his head, averted his eyes and locked them onto the ground.

And as you looked at him, you couldn't help but wish that he didn't look away. That he looked at you the same way you looked at him now. That he, too, would try and map out every little detail of your face.

You took in the way his hair fell. The way his ears turned a slight shade of pink, just the same his cheeks did. By now, you had committed him to memory. It was impossible for you to forget the way his cheeks rounded out or the way his nose curved. Even though he had a more stoic manner most of the time, you had never missed the softness in his features. Maybe it was because he had always been so kind to you or maybe it was just your affection for him that made him even more handsome, but what you saw when you looked at him was the most beautiful, handsome man you had ever laid eyes upon.

Everyone else saw a knight, one that had even admitted to being afraid of dying. They saw a man who they thought would not be able to protect you the way that he was supposed to. But you didn't see that, you never had. You had always seen a man that knew the dangers of his duty and faced it anyway. For you. Who cared about you. Who deserved so much more than you could ever give him. He should ride by a Lord's side, by your father's side and receive all the honor in the world. But instead, he was stuck with you and no honor worthy of him could ever be bestowed upon him by your hand.

“There,” the physician said. “All done. I will let your maid wrap the bandages around your chest so the wound is protected. Make sure to rest as much as you can, overworking yourself can lead to the wound opening up again.” He shot you an apologetic look as he gathered his things.

Your maid stepped towards you while Kita helped the physician to the door. It hurt you to let go of him, but he really could not stay with you while your maid undressed you to bandage the wound. The whole time he kept his face turned away from you, making sure that there was not a bit of your exposed body that he could see. But you could still see the red tips of his ears. In all of this mess that you were in now, the small bit of red skin that shone through his hair seemed like a little glimmer of hope. It was the one thing that made the edges of your lips curl upwards, not a real smile, but some piece of happiness nevertheless. The maid wrapped the bandages around your chest and shoulder so that the whole wound was covered in it and protected before helping you into your clothes again. There would probably be some visitors, your father and brother, maybe Alysane if she was allowed to see you, so you had to be somewhat decent. As if you really cared about being decent in front of your family after almost dying. But, well.. it wasn't you making the rules.

“Do you need anything else, princess?”

“No, Clara, thank you.” You gave her an exhausted smile. All you wanted was to rest, just rest.

“I will check back in with you in a bit, just in case.” She squeezed your hand gently. In the time that she had been your you had really grown to appreciate her. Clara wasn’t someone who hid her emotions or pretended to be someone she was not, like so many people around you did. So when she acted like she cared about you, you knew that she did actually care. It was always nice to know that the people close to you want to help you. And though, yes, she could be quite talkative at times and loved to gossip, but that wasn't always bad. She loved to hear and share new information, but she never did it with bad intentions (even if gossip often led to bad things in your world). It had actually given you a lot of useful information about some people at court and helped you steer clear of many bad people. Sadly, it hadn't helped you now.

Clara stood up to leave and Kita returned to your side. He could not see it as he was standing behind your maid, but you did not miss the way that she glanced at you before turning to leave. It was just a split second, but you could practically see the questions that were going through her head spelled out on her forehead: "Is he always this close to you? Does this bother you? Do you like it? Is this something more than just him protecting you?"

Of course, she did not say any of that out loud. As nice as she was to you and as much as you liked and appreciated her, it was not her place to ask you such things. Maybe in another lifetime, you could have been friends and she could have asked you. Maybe in a different world. But not not in this one. In this one, there was always an invisible wall separating you from everyone else. Even from Kita. Even he did not dare to ask you about the thoughts running through your head.

And there was nothing you could do about it. There was no way for you to tell him that it was alright to be close to you because it wasn't. He wasn't allowed to ask you such things and you weren't allowed to tell them to him, not because it was what was best for you, but because that was just the way that things were. And you did not make the rules. You never would. Your life would never be the way that you wanted it to be. You would never be able to be as close to Kita as you wanted, you would never be able to give him what he deserved. All that you had done since meeting him was make him feel bad for not protecting you well enough, make him uncomfortable with your panic and stupidity and steal his handkerchief. You were completely useless.

“Princess..” Kita’s voice was gentle, careful. “It’s alright. It's alright.” His hand was on your arm and it felt like the most natural thing for him to do; like his hand had been molded just to hold you.

The tears streaming over your face did not stop under his touch, if anything, they got worse. He wasn't supposed to be doing this. Or, he was supposed to be doing this, if the way this felt was any indication. He was made to hold you. It was just that someone had decided that it wasn't appropriate for him to be doing this. Well, not someone. Your father. He decided what was appropriate for you to do. He decided everything, for everyone. And there was nothing you could ever do about it. You could never love Kita the way you were both meant to.

Everything was horrible. Everything was pain again and not even Kita's touch could make you forget about it.

As if your father could hear you thinking about him, he walked in, flanked by two of his guards, another one no doubt waiting outside with the two knights already ordered there for your protection.

“Your Grace,” Kita immediately moved to greet him, bowing down. He shot you an apologetic look. Did he miss touching you just as much as you missed his touch? He had to. There was no way that a love like yours could be a coincidence. It was a force bigger than you, pushing you towards him. Of God wanted you to love him, he had to make him love you too. Right?

“y/n! I heard what happened, my dear.” Your father walked up to your bedside, his guard following him.

With so many people now filling the space, Kita had no choice but back up and make room for the three other men now demanding your attention. But your attention wasn't on them. You tried and follow Kita with your eyes but the broad bodies of the king's guards obscured your view. Reluctantly, you looked up at your father. The tears were still wet on your face, but you held yourself back from spilling even more now.

“Oh, my dear.” He repeated as he sat down on the side of your bed, a hand on your forehead. With gentle motions, he brushed stray hairs and sweat from your forehead. His hand felt warm against your skin and it reminded you of when you had been still a child and had your parents comfort you when you were sick. When was the last time you had felt this kind of touch from your family? Not since your mother's funeral. The thought made the tears flow again all by themselves.

“Oh,” your father whispered again. “Oh, sweetheart.” His hand didn't stop brushing over your skin as he turned around and quickly motioned for the other men to leave you two alone.

It was like a wave that came crashing down on you. It wasn't just what had happened today, it was everything. Your mother's death. The loneliness you had felt for so long. The pressure coming down on you from all sides. The expectations. The way you didn't know what your future held for you because you didn't know what man your father would choose for you. The love you had for a different man, that you could never have. It was the nightmares you had every time sleep overcame you. It was the fears that haunted you. It was everything. Everything hurt.

Only when you had calmed down enough to breathe steadily again did your father speak up again. “I am so sorry this happened to you, love. I promise you: I will make sure that Garret is punished for what he did. And your knight, too. How could he let this happen?!”

What? “No,” you gasped. “No, it wasn't the knight's fault!”

Your father raised an eyebrow. “Really? Because I heard that the knight on duty this morning let you go into your room all by yourself.” Oh. Oh, he wasn't talking about Kita. Thank God. But still - it still wasn't the knight's fault!

“He was right outside the door, talking to the maid like I commanded him to do.” Your heart was still pounding in your chest. Would you have a broken rib by the end of this, too?

“He should have known better than-”

“Father.” You looked deeply into his eyes. Eyes that weren't cold, but angry and clouded by worry for his child's safety. “Trust me. It wasn't his fault. Do not punish him. For me. Please?”

He hesitated for a moment. But then, his eyes softened and he sighed. “Alright.” He kissed your forehead. “If that is what you say happened. But I'm still not happy with him.” His eyes turned serious yet again. “And what about Sir Kita? Should I be happy with him?”

How could he even ask that? Could he not see how perfect Kita was? “Yes, father.” You tried not to blush. And probably failed miserably. “He saved me. I would probably not be here without him right now. Or.. Garret’'s plan would have worked out.”

“I am sick and tired of men trying to weasel their way into a marriage. With you, especially!” The tone your father now used was one you rarely heard. One of anger and frustration. “I am trying to keep you safe. I -” He choked up for a second. You knew what he was about to say.

“I am safe, father.” You squeezed his hand. “Mother knew that you would keep us safe after her death. You kept your promise to her.”

“But you are not safe.” Did you see tears glimmer in his eyes? “Look at you!” He motioned to your bruised and hurt body. “I promised to keep you safe and yet here you are, wounded on bedrest because I could not keep you safe!”

“This is not your fault. You can't-”

“This will not happen again.” The emotional look vanished from his face and left you with your father like you saw him almost all the time: A calm, distanced king who ruled over everyone and everything. One who would not take “No” for an answer.

“There will be no more men coming to try and grab at your hand because I will decide on the man who will marry you. I was wrong to postpone this. The sooner I decide, the better.”

No. No, no, no. No! This could not be happening. You weren't ready yet. You needed more time! More time to be with Kita, to love Kita, to give him what he deserved. Even if just quietly, you needed to love him. To do something good for him. To change for him. You needed more time. Time with him.

“Father, I don't think that-”

“You do not need to worry about this.” As harsh as the reality behind his words was, the way he said them was soft, gentle. Like he was reassuring you instead of shutting you up. Perhaps that was what he thought he was doing. “You do not need to worry about any of this. Soon, you will be safe. I will keep you safe. Always.” He kissed your forehead. “Rest now.”

—

“You're supposed to stay in bed.” Clara's hands were gentle but firm as they pushed your shoulders back onto the bed.

“But I need to see Alysane.” You had been crying for God knows how long. Your head felt as if it was about to explode and not a single thought seemed to be coherent. Everything was a mess and you needed someone to help you sort this out. There were only two people who could help you with that: Kita or Alysane. And seeing as your feelings for Kita were pretty much the reason behind your distress, he was probably not the best choice.

“She hasn't come to see me yet.” You felt like a sulking child. You probably sounded like one, too. “Why hasn't she come to see me yet?” Your father had been here, your brother too. So why hadn't your best friend been there?

“I don't know, your highness.” Clara’s eyes avoided yours. Quickly, she moved to place the covers over your chest again. Oh, but she did know. And you knew that she knew. If anyone in the whole castle knew, it had to be the maid who gossiped with everyone, about everything. She probably knew any news before even your father did.

“Why hasn't she come to see me?” You asked again, this time more intently.

She still avoided your now piercing gaze. “I'm not supposed to tell you.”

That was it. You have had enough of people telling you what was right and wrong! You swung your legs out of your bed, pushed her to the side and rushed out of the room.

“Princess?” Kita sounded almost panicked. “Where are you-? I don't think you are supposed to-”

“I do not care what I'm supposed to! I want to see my friend, so I will see my friend!” Your scream echoed off the walls of the hallway. This was improper behavior for a Lady. For a princess, this was horrific behavior. But what did that matter now? What did any of your behavior matter now that you had fallen in love with your knight? There was nothing you could do that could be worse. At least not in the eyes of your father, your brother, every other Lord and Lady in the kingdom. Everyone else, too. They would all think that it was a bad, distasteful thing for you to do. Oh, if they only knew that it was the best thing you had ever done.

“You need to rest.” Kita held onto your arm.

He was right. You were weak and could already feel your knees getting weaker every moment. The rush you had gotten just a few seconds ago was wearing off and left you feeling even worse than before.

“Please,” you begged him. “Please tell me what is wrong.”

You could see the pain in his eyes. What was hurting him so much? And what could you do to help him?

“You are not the only one Garret wanted to kill today,” Kita whispered. He couldn't even look at you. But he still caught you when your knees finally gave in.

-> Next Chapter

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