Chapelle de l'Ange au Violon in Conques-sur-Orbiel, France
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OH ARTHUR BENNETT.. such a gorgeous and intriguing character. terribly burdened by a GRUESOME set of crimes, his light suffocated by a HEAVY century of GUILT. so tragic, so dark and broody, and yet PAINFULLY awkward in any social setting ever
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Well since asker are helping in Building up/Constructing for Bendy's... Grey Room (???) I'd like to contribute. Because of J.D's abuse & Mistreatment of Bendy & the Toons in the Studio. I will do something to Make sure the Bendy will get the education & Schooling He was denied. (Begins to build an extensive library with rows & rows of Books in the next room over) There. Now When Bendy wants to go & learn something He'll have the Means to get it. No one should be robbed of an education.
You guys are just givin' this kinda stuff away, huh? Well, thanks, thanks a lot for givin' us stuff. I mean, we do already live in a fully furnished house but I guess gettin' more stuff for it can't hurt.
The new bookshelf looks pretty good and the entertainment center's neat too. I haven't played much video games since I can't really get the hang of it, but they sure do look fun. I guess we can use our new TV to watch all those Halloween specials!
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one day i will post eriks art .and rhe world will sing
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pet names | hwang hyunjin x reader | 519 w.
"What did you just call me?" Hyunjin scowled. His hands once again placed on each hip. It was impossible to not laugh at the scene, and that made him even more enraged in all the endearing ways possible for you.
"Hyunjin," you whine as he walks out of the room. Following him to the kitchen, you quickly circle your hand on his torso, trying to put your chin on his shoulder, but fail miserably because he keeps shaking you off. You laugh at his antics. All this because you called him by his name and not the designated pet names you both had for each other.
"I don't know any Hyunjin," he said, running away from you once again to the couch.
"That's literally your name," you exclaimed, half laughing. You sat next to him, nudging his feet with your own, trying to annoy him. He quickly grabs a pillow to prevent you from trying to use the hug attack. "Hyune," you called again, this time with a more common nickname.
He didn't budge. Not even a twitch of an eye.
"Baby?" you tried another one with a softer one. That sure earned you a little sarcastic smile from the man himself. He looked down at you, still not impressed by your whole shenanigans. He pressed his body even further into the couch, leaving no space for you to slip your hand.
"No," he said, squinting at you.
"What do you mean no?" you jolt back in surprise. Mainly because that's what you always call him. Baby. Just like the pet names, he's the biggest pouty baby you've ever known.
Hyunjin looks as if he's thinking something before you notice the mischief in his eyes.
"I want new pet names," he said, smirking. You looked at him, gears starting to run in your head.
"Honey?" you offer softly. He placed a finger under his chin before tickling you, making you fall from the couch. He saw this coming and held on to your body before you could hit the floor. He sets you down on the floor gently before attacking you with tickles again.
"I'll stop when you give me one I like," he laughed maniacally.
"Sorry! Sorry!" you exclaimed, trying to escape from his grip. "Boobear! Boobear!" you shouted in between laughs. Hyunjin laughs along with you, refusing to stop.
"Love, my love," you offer another one, starting to run out of energy. Hyunjin seems to think for a few seconds before he stops tickling you.
"I like that," he said, pushing the hair on your face away so he could hold it.
"You know it was just a prank, right?" you ask, out of breath.
"I do," he smiles playfully before placing a kiss on the tip of your nose. "Now we're even." You roll your eyes in annoyance, smiling nevertheless.
"I'll get you some water, stay here," he said before standing up.
You saw another chance, propping yourself before you opened your mouth and shouted, "Thanks, bro." Immediately bolting away to the room with erupting laughter.
Hyunjin let out a deep sigh, speechless and definitely unamused.
a/n. my honeybun, pumpkin, choco pie, this is so cliche please don't attack me it's sounds better in my head
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Can't Help It
pairing: dbf!leon kennedy x fem!reader
summary: your dad's coworker needs a housesitter, but the house isn't the only thing you'll be sitting on (haha pls laugh)
cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, masturbation, oral (m receiving), age gap (i imagine early 20s/late 30s), both reader and leon are kinda pervy but not in a skeevy way <3
word count: 5.3k
a/n: hi hi i am back! this was such a pain to write for no reason, but as always, i hope people enjoy. i'm not sure what trope this really falls under, it's probably more accurate to say dcw (dad's coworker), but we'll go with dbf for convenience. i might make a part 2 of this idk. also, i know the header images are really giving graphic design is my passion but... it is what is lol. as before, thank you for all the support on my last fics. if you reblogged or commented, i'm giving you a smooch rn. and just wanna say that i do take requests. if anyone is interested, don't be shy ;) any who, feedback, reblogs, and comments are appreciated! <3
When your dad’s new coworker asked if you’d be interested in housesitting for some easy money, you couldn’t find a reason to say no. Agent Kennedy, like your father, traveled for work a lot. Often gone for weeks at a time, he needed someone to watch the place and take care of menial tasks like getting the mail and watering the plants. It paid well and all you had to do was basically live in his house.
You had met him several times in passing before he offered you this job, and he was always nice to you. He would say hi when you’d come down for a snack while he talked to your dad in the living room. He’d ask how college was and about the different classes you were taking. One time he even told you about some old band he liked that he thought you would too. And that was all great.
But what was even better was that he was fine as fuck.
You had a fat crush on him from the moment you were introduced. The way his eyes pierced right through you but in the softest way. How his lips curled into a knowing smile while his hand gripped yours in a firm shake. The way he said “pretty name for a pretty girl” when you told him your name. From any other middle-aged man, that would have been so corny and had you internally shriveling up. But from him… you had to fight the urge to get on your knees then and there.
He’d approached you about watching his house, saying something about how there had been some nearby break-ins in empty houses and it would be a good way for you to get some spending money and blah blah blah. You were on board as soon as the opportunity to have more of him in your life presented itself.
Unfortunately, it was the nature of housesitting that you rarely saw your employer. You would see him when you showed up and when he came home and that was it. But those moments were enough to sustain your delusion.
The first time you came over, you walked into the house, glancing around the den of the man who enraptured you. It was pretty basic, but you figured that not being home a lot would be the reason for that. When you were done trying to psychoanalyze him from looking around his house, he gave you your own set of keys with a wink that had you blushing an embarrassing amount.
“Thank you, Mr. Kennedy,” you said softly.
“Call me Leon, Sweetheart,” he replied.
You had to look away to conceal your giddy smile. You didn’t think he noticed the effect he had on you. Or if he did, he didn’t care about your pitiful infatuation. But other times, you could have sworn he did this kind of thing on purpose.
Your first stint in the house went smoothly. You made sure to do everything he asked and even cleaned up the place a little bit. When he returned from wherever his work had taken him that time, he seemed impressed to your delight. He looked around, making small talk with you before writing your check.
“You get up to anything crazy while I was gone?” he said, smirking as he scribbled his signature on the small rectangle.
“Yeah, I was real wild - I brought out your vacuum for probably the first time.”
He laughed, handed you the check, and teasingly purred “good girl.”
Now, he may have been joking, but your panties nearly soaked through with arousal regardless. You yet again hid your revealing expression as you said a timid goodbye and headed out to your car. You were shifting your thighs together the whole ride home, fantasizing about being a good girl for Agent Kennedy so he would relieve that ache between your legs that clouded your thoughts.
Honestly, all of this made you feel pretty pathetic. Lusting after your father’s coworker, now technically your boss, who was a good fifteen years older than you. Blushing and squirming every time he said something more than ‘hi.’ Weren’t you better than this? But then you’d see those thick biceps and mysterious eyes, and the answer in your mind would be a resounding no.
Because honestly, you weren’t better than this, you were so much worse. After the good girl incident, you decided that if he didn’t want you yet, he would. You would make sure of it. From then on, every time you were housesitting, you wore your most revealing outfits, did your hair all pretty, and even tried special perfume so you’d smell extra nice.
But none of it seemed to work. He kept up his regular teasing and charm, but to your dismay, he hadn’t railed you on that sad leather couch in the living room. You tried to convince yourself that his gazes lingered longer and that his touches were more strategic, but that felt like reach even for you.
It was so frustrating. What more could you do? You touched his arm while he spoke. You laughed harder at his corny jokes. You even hugged him once or twice when you could justify it. You tried to drop hints every way you could without literally just trying to seduce him, and he did not seem to care. You nearly gave up. You decided that maybe you should just cut your losses and spare yourself the humiliation. Leave yourself with some dignity and resign to just being his housesitter.
You would have done this if not for the fact that he lets you sleep in his bed while he’s gone.
His house was meant for one person. It didn’t have a guest room. He told you on your first gig that you were obviously allowed to sleep in his bed since the alternative was the aforementioned sad leather couch in the living room. He told you to bring whatever you needed to be comfortable - sheets, blankets, pillows - since you’d be there for weeks at a time.
At first, it was too weird. It made you feel dirty, sleeping in his bed while harboring your secret carnal desires. But goddamn, that couch in the living room was uncomfortable. You stuck it out for the first time, but the second time you housesat, you relented and dragged your belongings back to the room you’d forbidden yourself from knowing.
His bedroom, like the rest of the house, is pretty blank, but there’s a little more personality here. It made you feel like such a stalker, but you couldn’t help making observations, right? You got to see the type of cologne he wore, the few dusty books he kept next to his bed, what kind of stuff he crammed in the nightstand drawers. It sounded creepy, but you just had curiosity, right?
You set yourself up in his queen size bed, draping the plush blanket you brought with you across the mattress. The bed was comfy enough, but the absolute best part, the part that kept your fantasies alive and well, was the way the sheets smelled like him.
You nearly moaned when you took a deep breath, filling your nose with that familiar scent. It gave you such a rush pushing your face into those smooth gray linens. It was so wrong, but you couldn’t help shamefully slipping your fingers beneath the waistband of your shorts to play with your swollen clit. You clutch the sheets in your fists as you writhe on the bed, whining as you fantasize about your special agent.
Leon had gone years leaving his house desolate without an issue. All that nonsense about potential burglaries and spending money for you had been total bullshit. It’s not like there was anything of value in his house anyway. Those excuses served only as a way to get more of you in his life. He thought housesitting was a happy middleground, a tether to you without being obvious about his motivations.
Ever since he saw you for the first time, heading out your front door, offering a timid ‘nice to meet you,’ he had been hooked. You bewitched him with your sweet temperament, that soft laugh when he told you bad jokes, those gorgeous eyes projecting all the emotions in that pretty head of yours. God, you were so fucking cute.
You made him feel like a dirty old man, sick and perverted for coveting his colleague’s daughter. The embarrassment he felt within himself when he’d notice he was staring at your tits or imagining how your soft lips would look wrapped around his cock was immeasurable. Even though the guilt boiled inside him, he couldn’t stop himself. He craved you. He started finding more opportunities to visit your house, hoping he could steal a few moments of your time. That’s when he knew enough was enough.
Having you as his house sitter worked perfectly. He could have his moments with you without feeling too disgusted with himself. Even though he liked to tease every so often, he kept it friendly. He noticed that you, on the other hand, seemed to be doing everything to change that.
He wasn’t a fool. He could see the changes in your appearance. Those skimpy outfits you’d flaunt yourself in drove him crazy. The way you’d playfully roll your eyes and brush his arm had his cock twitching in his pants. It was becoming all the more tempting to spread you out on the dining table and take what he wanted. But he still wrestled with that part of himself that said to not take it too far. That you deserved better.
That was until you started sleeping in his bed.
He had come home after your second gig, given you your check, and sent you on your way quickly because he was exhausted from his mission. He went straight to his room and collapsed on the bed. He could tell the sheets had been freshly washed by the soft feel, but also because you were always going above and beyond to please him. Despite the recent cleaning, he swore to himself he could smell some of your perfume on them.
He looked like a madman, smelling his bed sheets for the faintest hit of that scent. He groaned, picturing you lying here, your beautiful body sprawled out on his bed. He inhaled deeper while conjuring images of your unkempt hair and sleepy eyes. It wasn’t long until his dick sprung to life as he saw images of you with one of his pillows between your legs, whimpering as you drag your dripping cunt back and forth along the fabric. He couldn’t help the need to desperately pump his cock to sinful visions of his precious girl.
This morning it’s about six when Leon unlocks the front door and quietly walks inside. He completed his mission hours before. He was tired, but it had been short, only about a week, and relatively easy. He told you he would be home in the evening, but he’d finished earlier than expected.
He trudges through the house and down the hall to his bedroom, collapsing in bed at the forefront of his mind. It’s not until he reaches the door and hears your deep breathing that it occurs to him that his bed is currently occupied. He gently pushes the door open and walks in, planning on rousing you so you could get your money and be on your way. When he sees you though, that plan vanishes from his mind.
The sight of you nearly melts him into a puddle. He pads closer to the bed, careful not to disturb you. Your shiny hair is draped across the pillow as you lie on your stomach with one leg hiked up. Your arms rest close to your face, their raised position causing your t-shirt to ride up and allowing him to see your waist. The blanket was tangled between your legs, and his eyes are immediately drawn to the junction of your thighs covered only by those thin panties you wore.
Despite your beauty, he controls himself. He pulls the blanket over your lower body and sits beside you to contemplate his next move. He came up with a few different things he could do, but all he wanted right now was to watch you sleep. He felt like such a creep, but you looked heavenly in this state. His ears strained to hear those delicate exhales coming from your parted lips.
He could just go sleep on the couch until you woke up. He could just wake you up and offer to let you stay until you had your bearings. Or he could just let himself enjoy this a little more.
He wanted to wake you though. He wasn’t fully sure of what he was doing, but if there was any part of you that had reservations he wanted to know. It would rip his heart to shreds if he frightened you somehow. He begins rubbing your back in long soothing strokes. He makes small circles with his fingers every so often. You stir a little, but don’t wake.
He continues his ministrations, smiling at your sleeping form. He uses his other hand to brush your hair from your face. He strokes the locks away from your closed eyes before leaning closer to you. He can smell that familiar scent that had driven him to humping the sheets for the last few months.
“Hey Angel, need you to wake up for me,” he coos in your ear, his hot breath fanning across the side of your head.
It slowly registers inside your unconscious mind that you aren’t dreaming. Actual fingers are coasting along your back. An actual voice is coaxing you back to reality.
A low hum emits from your throat as you shift to face the source of your disturbance. Your eyes open, still heavy from sleep, and Leon enters your field of vision. For a second, you wonder if you’re still dreaming.
“There she is,” he whispers, giving you that charming smile. He runs his fingers along your jaw and tilts your chin to turn your face completely in his direction.
You feel your brain malfunctioning as he floods your senses. The morning light coming through the window illuminating him as he looks down at you. The deep timbre of his voice speaking to you. His rough fingertips dragging across the smooth expanse of your cheek.
Soon as your eyes come into focus and your mind clears the fog of sleep a little, you grasp enough of the situation to feel a jolt of panic. It felt like you woke up late for school. You shoot up in bed and look at him with wide, apologetic eyes.
“Oh my God, Leon, I’m so sorry. I thought you wouldn’t be back until tonight. I’ll be ready in a minute. Just-” you ramble. You go to fling the blanket off of you, but remember you didn’t wear shorts to bed. You have to sit there, looking at him as you feel heat creeping to your cheeks.
“Hey, it’s alright,” he cuts you off with a quiet chuckle, gently catching your arm when you sit up, “I finished a little early. You don’t need to rush out the door. I figured you’d still be asleep.”
The look in his eyes soothes you. He has that rugged, worn out look that he gets when he comes back from missions. Your heart rate falls back down to normal levels, but your eyes still cast downwards, a little embarrassed he’d caught you unprepared. His fingers trail up and down your arm, and you shift a little to try and hide the fact that your nipples are hardening beneath the flimsy fabric of your shirt.
“Thank you. I’ll be up in a few though. I know you’re probably tired,” you say, giving him a sheepish smile.
He moves so that he’s further on the bed with you. He lays back on the pillows and looks up at you, rubbing your back how he was before you woke up.
“Mmmm, I am, but you still don’t need to rush. I’m not gonna complain about a sweet thing like you warming my bed,” he says, that teasing smile spreading across his face and his fingers starting to trace patterns exclusively on the small of your back.
Your eyes flit away as your own smile grows on your face. How were you supposed to be normal about this? You look down at your hands in your lap and mutter a thank you.
“Honey, you really don’t need to be so shy all of the sudden,” he says softly, but there’s a smug lilt to his voice as well. You bite your lip as his hand begins fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.
He can’t help the smirk and predator-like glint in his eyes that form at your reaction. This was it. That little smile and refusal to meet his eyes was all he could stand. He was closing in now. The flirtation between you two had gone on long enough. He wanted this, and if you wanted it too, his mind couldn’t find a reason to deny the two of you any longer.
“Sweetheart, if you have something to tell me, you can come out and say it. I don’t bite. Unless you want me to,” he says as he reaches up to pull your hair behind your shoulder and out of your face, “And, lately I’m starting to think that’s what you want.”
You look over to him now, your eyes staring into his. Your limbs feel weak, disbelief coursing through your veins. Your thoughts stampede through your mind, but you eventually force the words from your throat.
“I think I want that too,” you breathe. Your heart seizes at his brows playfully rising. You lay down on the bed, resting on your side so that you and Leon are face to face. Your pulse thunders in your ears while you try to conceal how shaky your breathing is.
He scooches over to you, pushing you on to your back and propping himself on his elbow so he’s positioned above you. He leans down and presses two faint kisses to your cheeks. Pulling back, he looks into your eyes and strokes your cheek again with the same soft and slow movements.
“Think, babydoll? I think you know what you want,” he whispers, dragging his thumb over your bottom lip, “I think you’ve known for a while. Wearing all those cute little outfits, prancing through my house and brushing against me like a kitten. You were just begging for my attention.”
You squirm slightly under the spotlight of his affection. Somehow, you maintain eye contact even though every cell in you feels the urge to look away. Part of your mind wonders if he’s still teasing. If he’s about to pull away and leave you wanting.
Before you could overthink anymore, his head lowers to the crook of your neck. He takes a deep breath of you as he moves himself further on top.
“Now, you’ve got it, but all you had to do, sweet thing, was ask,” he says as his mouth ghosts over your neck, “That’s all you have to do right now. Just want to hear that you want me as bad as I want you.”
“Yes,” you whimper without a second thought, “Please touch me.”
“That’s my good girl,” he hums as he begins kissing your neck. The kisses are soft. They’re barely there, but they’re overwhelming to you. You can’t help the pathetic sound that leaves your lips as you tilt your head back. The hand that had been touching your face trails down to your waist and begins caressing your side under your shirt.
His tongue gently laps against the skin of your neck between kisses. Your whole body is starting to heat up while simultaneously getting chills. Every inch of you aches for his touch. Your thighs subconsciously spread as your breathing becomes heavier.
Leon lets out a small laugh at your display. “You must really want this Baby. Just a few kisses and rubs and you’re already mine,” he murmurs as his lips move up your neck and down your jaw. He kisses your lips next, giving your bottom lip a little nip.
Another needy sound escapes your mouth. You return the kiss and flick your tongue against his lips. “I do, wanted this since I met you,” you moan, your body writhing for more.
“Naughty girl,” he teases against your lips, “That’s okay though, Angel. I’m the same way. Wanted a handful of these pretty tits since I saw you.” His hand moves up and kneads your breast. His fingers massage the flesh before centering and pinching your nipple.
You whine and arch into his touch. Your eyes flutter as your face contorts with desire. He slides over you, straddling your waist. He stares down at you and takes in what was finally in his grasp. He coos for you to sit up a little while he pulls your shirt off of you. You comply and then flop back against the pillows. Now exposed from the waist up, his eyes feel even more intense. He’s locked on to the view of your tits.
“Oh, Sweetheart,” he mutters, “Even better than I imagined.” His hands cup the sides of your breasts, groping them a bit. You can now see his cock beginning to strain against his jeans. Your mouth waters at the sight, but it’s gone when he leans down to take a nipple into his mouth.
His tongue circles the peak before lapping against it, drawing more whines from you. Your body arches into his touch while his hands never let up their fondling. You take your lip between your teeth again. He moves to give the other nipple the same treatment, leaving the other one cold as the air touches the saliva-coated skin.
He plays with your breasts for a while more before drifting down your abdomen, lavishing your stomach with kisses. He squeezes your waist as he playfully tugs the hem of your panties with his teeth. He looks up at you deviously. “Your nipples were so hard, I bet your pussy’s fucking soaked for me.”
All you can do is nod, any verbal response tangled up in your esophagus. He leans back on his knees and swiftly pulls the garment off. His pupils seem blown out as he gets a look at your cunt. He pushes your thighs to your stomach, spreading you out for his gaze. You felt so exposed, at his mercy as he held you there and just looked at you. Your arms reach down and pull at the hem of his shirt.
“Wanna see you too,” you whimper with pleading eyes.
“Yeah?” he says with a soft smile. He leans back and pulls his shirt off. It takes everything in you to hold back a gasp. “Been fantasizing about me, have you?”
Your eyes rake along his chiseled abdomen, drinking in every line and shadow of his muscular frame. You reach out and pull him back on top of you. His grin grows, and he indulges you. You connect your mouths again, this time sliding your tongue inside his. He groans at your sudden eagerness. He runs his hand through your hair while you feel up his back, exploring the definition there.
You give him a little push, signaling that you want to roll over. His body flips over and takes you with him so that you’re positioned how you wanted. You make out for a minute more until you pull back, looking at him with your lustful eyes and swollen lips.
“Wanna suck your cock,” you say simply, sliding down his body so that you’re lying between his legs. You nuzzle against the bulge in his pants before unzipping them and tugging them down.
His eyes follow your every movement. He pets your head as you rub your face against the outline of his dick. He tilts his head back and lets out a sigh.
“That’s a good girl, just gotta give you some love and then you loosen up, don’t you?” he coos.
“Mhm,” you hum. You kiss his solid length over the cloth of his boxers. Then, finally, what you had been waiting for since meeting Leon. You loop your fingers over the waistband of his underwear and pull them down, unveiling his beautiful cock.
You wrap your fingers around it, just an exploratory touch. You feel the veins in your hold and the heat radiating from his shaft. You slowly bring your head to the tip to give him some tiny licks. Your eyes dart to his face, looking for approval.
Leon’s chest ached from the way you were looking at him like he was a god. When your tongue sticks out and your eyes return his stare, he nods at you and keeps stroking your hair. Your lips soon wrap around the tip, and you bob your head a little. He groans and his hips twitch.
“That’s a good girl, baby. Good fucking girl,” he moans as your head slides further down his member. His fingers lace through your hair, pulling a little.
The praise only makes you more enthusiastic. You move up and down with more speed, making lewd slurping noises as you work. His hand on your head and his sounds of pleasure has heat collecting in your belly, leaking out of your dripping pussy.
His head rests against the head board as he watches you with half-open eyes. His eyes squeeze shut and his body tenses as you push your head all the way down, taking him into your throat. Spit trickles from your mouth and drips on to his pelvis.
“Fuck, Sweetheart,” he whimpers, tugging on your hair a little. You taste his pre cum leaking on your tongue. A gagging noise comes from you and his hips twitch harder. He barely restrains himself from bucking up and lodging himself deeper in your throat. You moan around his cock, driving him even crazier. He feels the rush of an orgasm approaching and tugs your hair with more firmness, guiding your head up and off his lap. You whine softly as you lose the taste of him.
“Sorry, pretty girl, don’t wanna cum just yet,” he says.
You crawl back up his body, so you’re in his arms again. You kiss his cheeks and the corners of his mouth as he rolls the two of you over so he’s on top again. He connects your lips in a deep kiss, tasting himself on you as he drags the tip of his cock through your slippery folds.
He doesn’t tease for long though. Soon enough, he’s pushing himself into your tight cunt. You both let out a symphony of sinful noises. Leon watches as your face contorts with pleasure as he stretches you out. You both felt a budding sense of satisfaction after finally receiving what you craved for the last several months.
He bottoms out inside of you. His head falls forward against your neck. He pants as he holds himself together and lets you adjust, keeping an iron grip on your hips. Your fluttering around him as you accommodate his girth. Your nails lightly dig into his back while you cling to him.
He begins thrusting with slow and deep strokes. You moan out his name a few times with a variety of expletives. He keeps his face buried in your neck, grunting as he feels the velvety sensation of your walls around his length. His motions become more fluid as he finds a rhythm with you.
“That’s right Angel, better than your dreams?” he murmurs against your neck.
“Yes, fuck, yes,” you whimper, “So much better. Think your cock was made for me.”
“That so, Baby? I’m made to fill up a precious girl like you? Keep you happy and full of cum,” he growls into your neck, his thrusts gaining intensity.
You nod thoughtlessly as he continues battering your insides, gliding over your sweet spot repeatedly.Your arms wrap tighter around him as you feel yourself getting dragged closer and closer to the edge. Your noises become more strained as Leon lays sloppy kisses on the side of your head.
He hooks his arms underneath your knees and brings your thighs up to your abdomen again. His arm loops around and thumbs your clit as he slams himself in and out. Your back arches and you squirm from the rush of white hot pleasure. You’re right there, not able to hold on for much longer.
“I’m gonna have you so full of my cum today, it’s gonna be dripping out of you still the next time you’re here,” he grunts into your ear, “Make sure your pussy remembers me till I can fill her again.”
His vulgar words rip a high pitched moan from your throat and cause your eyes to roll back. “Fuck, Leon, I’m gonna cum,” you whimper.
“Go ahead, sweet girl. Squeeze me nice and tight,” he moans, his own voice getting strained.
You do as he says. The orgasm overtakes you. You release a strangled cry as your body rhythmically rolls into the feeling. Your pussy clamps around Leon tight, sucking him deep and keeping the attention on that blissful spot. The thrill of satisfaction rushing through your mind only works you further. Your eyes flutter and your lips part as you completely let go.
As he watches you cum, he notes that it might be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. The sight of your gorgeous body writhing and trembling because of him. The primal sounds of your moans and cries. It’s too much for him. He growls and grunts into your neck, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. He snaps even harder into you and floods you with his sticky, hot cum.
You both ride the waves of euphoria together until you both start coming down. He basically collapses on you as he catches his breath and you wipe the sweat from your brow. After a minute, he pushes himself off of you and flat on to the bed next to you. He gazes at the ceiling as his chest continues to rise and fall with the need for more oxygen.
You sit up slowly, realizing he probably wants you gone now. Like he said, you feel his cum leaking out of you as you move to grab your panties from the corner of his bed. This is how you expected it to be, but it still hurt a little. Nothing you couldn’t handle though. Your pulling them back on when your snapped out of your thoughts by Leon’s arm around your waist, dragging you to him.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks teasingly, spooning you and softly kissing beneath your ear, “You got what you wanted and now you’re running out?”
“Oh, uhhh… I thought you’d want me to leave,” you say quietly.
He guides your face so you’re looking at him. His eyes are still soft but more serious. “You think I would just fuck you and then throw you out on your ass? You’ve been sleeping in my bed for months, but you don’t know me as well as you think,” he says and kisses your nose, “You don’t have anywhere to be today, yeah? You thought you’d be here till later anyway.”
You nod in agreement, your eyes casting down with some embarrassment over your assumption.
“Hey, don’t get all shy on me now. There’s no reason for it,” he teases, “We have all day for me to show you how I want to take care of you. Just give me a moment, I’m not as young as I use to be.”
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Heyyy. Can I request a college au. Reader is an average, socially awkward, chubby (optional) gal who somehow managed to pulled the campus heartthrob, Geto (or gojo). And he's lowkey obsessed with her and try to be fucking her every chance he gets.
MDNI--Geto Suguru Ask♡♡
Popular! Geto who's Satoru Gojo's right hand man. He's known for being the quiet, composed other half of the blue eyed menace, often speaking very little and having a content smirk on his face at all times.
Popular! Geto who you share a chemistry class with, always tucking yourself into the far corner of the classroom to avoid being noticed by anyone, especially him. Anytime you're around him, you feel fuzzy inside, because despite him being popular, you can't deny he's hot as fuck, in a way no one else is....
Popular! Geto, who's fooled around of course. He doesn't have nearly as many bodies as Satoru, but Suguru without a doubt has no problem getting laid by girls or even guys, if he wanted. Popular! Geto who notices you in the back of the lecture hall, always tucking your self low and trying to stay unnoticed by your peers. How cute.
Popular! Geto who approaches you at the beginning of the lecture, taking the seat next to you and sending a smirk your way, asking what your name was with his slim, fox like eyes grazing your form. You sure were adorable, a plump set of breasts covered by a pastel Cashmere sweater, a cute little skirt to match, a sweet chubby face and adorable lips covered in a sparkly lip gloss. And were those thigh high stockings you were wearing? Oh, he wanted to just eat you up!!!
You quickly get the gist of his approach, squeaking and standing up from your seat to scamper away to another seat on the far other side. Oh. Okay, so you weren't stupid, at least. Most girls he would approach immediately started oogling at him and practically foaming at the mouth at his attention. You, however, ran away like a scared little bunny being approached by a hungry wolf....oh, he had to have you now.
Popular! Geto who tones down his approach after that encounter. He feels genuine attraction to you, not just lust like the usual girls he approaches. Suguru starts to sit with you in lectures you shared, this time sitting quietly and just observing your nervous frame, chewing on your pen the whole time. What was the deal with this guy?! Sure, he was super attractive, but there's no way he had good intentions with you, let alone intentions past just fucking you. You didn't want to be rude and run away again, but if he kept this up, you'd have to find a new designated seat.
"Hey, what's your name again?" A deep, velvety voice cuts you out of your thoughts. Glancing over, you catch eyes with his deep brown ones, his usual smirk being replaced with an actual...smile? Or an attempt of one.... "It-It's uh, Y/N.." He already knew, of course. After the first interaction you shared, he couldn't help but get some info about you. He got ahold of your dorm room number, your name, birthday, and a few other bits of information that weren't terribly descriptive. Shy little thing you were, his...associate had trouble actually finding information on you. "Do you have anything you're doing this Saturday?" Geto looks at you, tapping his ringed fingers on the desk. "Oh uh...no..just studying.." You answer briefly. You still can't read this guy's intentions. He's been making himself home next to you the last few weeks, regardless of where you sit, he magically finds you out and sits next to you, a small wave and his unnaturally wholesome smile plastered on his face instead of a smirk. Did this guy actually like me? Or was it just a cruel joke? Surely he wouldn't approach me out of the pureness of his heart...better to be safe than sorry, you think to yourself. You're once again ripped out of your thoughts by a large pale hand snapping in front of your face, belonging to Geto. "Hey, you there with me? Was asking if you had nothing better to do, come down to the frat party we're having. We'll have good booze, weed, and just a good time in general." You looked up at him, trying to take in if it was a serious offer or once again, a heartless ploy to poke fun at someone like you. "A-ah no thank you, I don't drink. I have to study." Suguru stares for a moment, before leaning down into your face and smiling. "Ah, alright. But if you get done studying, I'd love to see you stop by." He smells so good...you think. Like cedarwood with hints of cinnamon and amber musk....leaning back up, the tall ravenette pats your head and waves bye, strolling down the hallway. I guess a little fun wouldn't hurt....right?
Popular! Geto who finds your plump frame leaning up against a wall in the back of the frat house, fiddling with your hands and looking around like you were terrified. He chuckles to himself, you sure do stick out like a sore thumb. You were not dressed for a frat party in any way, with your cute pink sweater and black jean shorts. Yeah, you definitely hadn't been to one before. Suguru strolls over, waving to you. "Hey there cutie. Glad you made it." He smiles down at you, making your tummy reel. Was he always this tall...? "Yeah...I uh, got done w-with studying early..." He lets out a genuine laugh, shaking his head and locking eyes with you again. "You're too cute. Never been to one of these before?" You pout and look back up into his deep brown pools. "And what makes you say that, huh?" You were half offended that he actually said that, even if it was true... "Your outfit says all it needs to. You're more dressed than over half of the people in here." Your face flushes, crossing your arms and suddenly feeling much more aware of your outfit choices. Ah, I'm such a dork. I should have at least asked a friend what to wear.....He notices your sudden discomfort, and lays a hand on your shoulder. "Hey, it's alright. I didn't mean that as an insult. I think your outfit looks adorable. Fits you perfectly." Yeah, if you weren't crushing already, you sure were now...maybe he's not so bad.
Popular! Geto who starts hanging around you more and more after the frat party. Always walking you to class, offering to buy you a snack on the way. Carrying any books you have on you, holding doors open for you, and always giving you a gentle smile when you thank him. This had been going on for a few months, and you were sure you were head over heels for him. Sadly, you didn't really know if he was, too. I mean, he was popular and extremely handsome...surely confessing to him would result in instant rejection and humiliation. As you thought this, you couldn't have been more incorrect. Suguru had never treated any girl like this before, making him act all princely and like a gentleman...? Who was this man and where was the real Suguru, his best friend would joke. He was head over heels for you, you were like a personal drug. He loved everything about you, your hair, your voice, your adorable personality, the way you dressed, the cute habits you had, and so, so much more to mention. He couldn't count the number of nights he spent shirtless in his bed, stroking his throbbing cock to the thoughts of letting you sit on his face, pounding into your sweet cunt, sucking on and playing with those gorgeous tits of yours, rubbing himself raw until he physically couldn't cum anymore. Suguru never jerked off, since he always found other means of release, but you being in his life has resulted in him humping his fist like a hormonal teenager.
Popular! Geto who's walking with you to class when some of his friends(if he can really call them that, he's only around them because Satoru likes them) call over to him and ask him who the "fat chick" was. You'd never seen Suguru mad before this day, and it was honestly a terrifying sight. Geto's eyes went dark, and it was like his whole face shifted into a darker expression. The guy who insulted you and dared to try to make you into the butt of a joke got a strong right hook to his jaw, as Suguru continued to beat him a few more times before standing up and spitting on his face. "Don't refer to my girl like that again, or it'll be worse next time." His girl...his girl? You hadn't put a label on what you and Suguru had, hell, you hadn't even dared kiss the man(even though you really wanted to at times). Did...did he really see you as that? His girl? The thought made you swoon. As Suguru made his way back to you, he stares at you for a moment, before leaning down and capturing your lips in a passionate and sincere kiss, holding your face in his large hands and pulling away before reaching a hand to hold your back as you continued to walk to class. Well, I guess you have a label now, and a powerful one at that. Suguru's girl. You couldn't even utter a word as you walked to class, the kiss had your heart going 300 miles a minute. When you and Suguru eat lunch later that day in the campus's cafeteria, he notices your discomfort. "Hey, you alright cutie?" His hand lays over yours in a comforting grip, looking at you with a sincere worry in his eyes. "S-sugu, do you really like me like...that? Or was that just a-" you didn't even get the sentence out before he's leaning over and grabbing your face once more to kiss you, before leaning back and peppering kisses all over your sweet face. After smothering you in kisses, he leans back and smirks at you. "Yes, I meant everything I said. Did you have doubts of that, or do you need another reminder princess?" You quickly shook your head, face heating up until you were positive you could feel steam pouring out of your ears.
Popular! Geto who's now your boyfriend, and god is it amazing. He's so sweet and attentive to you, always treating you like an absolute princess in all situations. And he doesn't let up even around his friends, never embarrassed to show everyone his girl. He's even more affectionate now after the cafeteria incident, holding your hand in his significantly larger one, laying a hand on your thigh in class and squeezing it every now and then, insisting on kissing your forehead when he sees people staring at you two, but never going any farther than that. It did begin to make you slightly nervous, did he not want to be intimate with you? Were you sexually unappealing to him?... He was always so wholesome towards you, which was sweet, but it was normal for couples to get sexual at some point, but Suguru hadn't gone farther than a cheeky ass smack. "What's on your mind sweet girl?" As if he could read your mind, your tall boyfriend questions you. "Nothing Sugu, I've just been...thinking about something." "Ah, and what's that?" You take in a nervous breath, face heating up as you quickly blurt out your thoughts. He couldn't comprehend what you said, so you repeat yourself. "W-well I've just been afraid that you don't find me sexually appealing because we haven't gotten intimate or even suggested it and if you aren't attracted then that's o-" "Baby, that's what this is about? You think I don't wanna be sexual with you?" He takes your hand in his, looking into your eyes with an almost predatory stare. "You're highly mistaken, princess. I wanna pound that pussy every hour of the day, wanna have you sit that ass on my face...I just hadn't brought it up because I didn't want you to think that's what I was here for, because you're much more than just that to me, sweet girl. But we can change that tonight though, yeah?" He smirks and for the first time, you see a lustful glint in his smile. Jesus...this man is gonna be the death of you....
Aaahh this got longer than expected, I'll be making a part 2 tho👀👀I NEED this man!! And thank u for the amazing request bby!!! (≡^∇^≡)♡
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your nerd miguel fics are so good i didnt even know id like dom!reader this much
imagine slutty!reader getting ready for another party and she's barely wearing anything, pretty tits n ass spilling out of her clothes. she's leaning forward over the vanity to do her make up, and miguel cand help but get distracted from (her) homework, and just looks at her plump ass peeking from under her flimsy skirt. he begs her to let him rub himself on her and with hesitant hands he grips her hips and dryhumps her like a dog in heat
well, yes!
cw: slight dom!fem reader, sub!miguel yall know the vibes, me indulging in fashion for a moment, dry humping, miguel cums in his undies, this one’s a lil sweet i fear, awkward ending soz, edited AND proofread y’all 🙏🏾 (can’t guarantee no mistakes however)
wc: 1.6k
❤︎ a/n: i’m a dirty liar and forgot to upload this yesterday but!! she’s here and she was a labour of love! everyone who survived the great barbie drought of winter 2023-2024 gets a pin and goodie bag at the door. nevertheless, enjoy!! 💋
“hey, four eyes, this dress or should i wear a skirt instead?”
brown eyes you’ve come to know so well, more than you’d like to admit, flit up to meet yours momentarily until they look at the two articles of clothing hanging on hangers between your manicured fingers. in one hand, a mesh cut out dress with a deep plunging neckline, and a khaki mini skirt in the other.
“um, skirt. y-you looked pretty in it when you bought it, so um- you should wear it,” miguel mumbles, a pink tint sweeping its way lightly across his face. you’re feeling particularly sweet on him today. it’s been hard to keep your eyes off him as of recent, his chiseled jaw, thick lips, and who could ever forget the resplendent pools of brown that takes form of his eyes. eyes that make your face heat up, setting your body ablaze and feeling feverish under the slightest of glances.
he’s classically handsome, that much you won’t deny, as much as it kills you.
you silently take his suggestion in heed, quietly stripping in front of him to change into the skirt he suggested, and pulling on a black long sleeved crop to to match. you silently lament on the memory of the day you bought the skirt, how you had dragged miguel by his shirt alongside you that day to the mall to sit and watch you buy clothes at any and every store, designer or department, and shuck your bags into his strapping arms. you had wandered into miu miu, miguel trailing not too far behind you with your bags from blumarine, versace, cavalli and more comfortable in his hands. he sat patiently in the waiting chairs as you picked up an array of shirts and skirts and accessories, until you were ready to try them on. miguel sat and watched as you said no and turned your nose up at nearly everything until you tried on a khaki skirt, sitting so low on your hips the straps of your red thing peeking above the waistband.
you turned and twirled in the mirror, admiring the skirt on yourself until you turned to miguel himself, walking up to him as he’s sat to ask him, “you like it?” and like it he does, a hefty hand trailing up from your thigh to your hip, tapping your your hip softly. “you know i do, baby,” and you giggle at his answer, twirling for him before walking back the dressing room to change, not before biting your lip and beckoning miguel to follow at your heels with a pink painted acrylic nail. and follow he does, because he’s such a good boy.
you feel roused at the memory of your dressing room quickie in the same skirt you’re wearing now. and you’re sure miguel feels the same, and you don’t miss the opportunity to provoke him at any moment.
you bend over, slow but curt, fixing up your makeup in your large vanity while your ass sits out in direct display, the short fabric of the skirt lifting as you bend. your black thong is made visible as you bend and wiggle you hips. you steal small glances in the mirror to where miguel is on your bed, sitting in a sea of linear calculus books, and sure enough the methods of linear are long forgotten to focus on your exposed backside. you giggle and turn your head to look at him, and his lips purse when he realizes he’s been caught. before he can sputter anything out, you stand and turn to him and ask him, “see something you like, dontcha?”
a silent swallow and a nod is miguel’s response, his growing erection answer enough for you.
“beg me for what you want.”
and there’s a brief fleeting moment after the words leave your lips. an unspoken fervour in the air, perhaps a mix of what hasn’t been said and all that’s left to say about the two of you. you feel hot, your gaze burning through miguel’s clothes, burning his skin all the way across the room. you want him, you want him, you want him. and he’s looking back at you, a subdued but still present lust in his eyes. you see the submission, his compliance. yes, mistress.
his knees hit the floor, and then his rough palms follow suit and he’s crawling towards you until he’s not, and his sat like a good little boy in front of you painted feet, and he does what you ask, he begs for your touch, your taste, your mercy.
“please let me touch you, i need it, please please please. can i have it? can i touch you, mommy? i don’t even have to be inside you, j-just your touch and i can- i can cum. please? oh god please-“ miguel babbles, his hulking form looking up at you from the floor. you feel like the wind has been knocked out of your chest. he just needs your touch. you card a hand through his thick wavy locks, gripping at the nape and pulling his head up to look at you.
“just need my touch, hmm?” you look at him and he nods. whimpers. so fucking pathetic. “i’ll let you hump me like you want. my subservient little puppy needs it, huh?” you coo mockingly. a string of yes’s and thank you’s leave miguel’s lips and you get up and turn around, bending over to brace yourself on your vanity.
you’re fully presented for miguel, and there’s an empty beat of stillness between you both, you make eye contact with him in the mirror and quip, “gonna keep me waiting?” and he knows better than that. he’s up on his feet, unbuckling his belt and shucking his jeans down and off him, standing in his boxers, swollen and full with his erection. he moves behind you, placing his hands on either sides of your hips.
“no ma’am.”
you can’t help but pulse in anticipation. you look at him in the mirror and find that he’s looking at you already and you feel yourself heat up. please don’t make me wait anymore, you think. like he’s read your mind, miguel’s covered erection is pressed up against the gusset of your panties, perfectly slot between your ass cheeks.
and experimental hump sends you bouncing forward a little, your breasts jiggling a bit, a soft sigh of satisfaction leaving you. finally. another hump, miguel’s strong hands pulling your hips back towards his crotch and you gasp a bit and the pleasure. another thrust of hips, and again, and again until it becomes a steady rhythm of soft sighs and low groans. and it goes on from a thrust to a trust and grind, and oh! the meat of miguel’s dick rubs up against your clit and you can’t help but moan.
your moans are joined by miguel’s whimpers, his hips rocking so intensely it has you burning up inside so much that you think you might cum from the stimulation. “s-so good baby, fuck,” miguel let’s out and you keen at his praise. you’re so good, you’re his baby. you push and grind your hips up in time with his, feeling yourself begin to soak through your panties and maybe onto miguel’s dark boxers. you can’t hold yourself together anymore, feeling yourself come apart so you drop your head onto your vanity’s surface, hoping to salvage some semblance of your pride.
the thick hands on your hips move to find purchase within your skirt, grabbing fistfuls of the short fabric before pulling your hips back with a staggering strength. you feel your knees buckle a bit, and your head shoots back up with an accompanying moan.
miguel pulls you down while pushing himself up into you and it feels so fucking good. your palms feel clammy and you feels as if you’re still sanding by the grace of god. every nudge of your clit feels as if it’s short circuiting your motor functions temporarily and you feel so overwhelmed to the pleasure, you can do nothing but succumb to it, and the man granting you it.
“m’gonna cum miguel. so good, so fucking good. wish you were inside me so i can feel you. wish you could feel me cum around you. f-feels so good please don’t stop! i’m gonna- oh!” you’re mumbling and babbling incessantly, canting hips and soft whimpers that turn into heavy groans only further pushing you past your limit through this titillating pleasure.
“fuck, gonna come with you baby. come with me, please mommy i need it,” miguel moans. his hands release your skirt and dig into your hips once more and you’re sure you’ll find salacious marks there in the morning but you don’t care, not when you’re so close.
a particular hard thrust sends you reeling forward, head almost hitting your mirror and you can’t help but give out within your legs. you feel them shake and almost go numb at the pleasure. you’re left helpless, cumming violently and soaking the fabric separating both you and miguel as miguel continues his assault against your poor pussy. he fucks it- humps it?- raw, overstimulating you to the point of pain when finally he finishes with a final thrust, his nails digging into the meat of your curvature. you feel his cum seep through the material of both of your arguments and you moan as it hits the gusset of your thong.
miguel lets go of your hip and you wobble a bit, using your upper body upon your desk to stabilize you. you’re both panting and heaving, taking in the intense and carnal display of lust between the two of you. you’re quiet before you hear miguel pipe up, breathlessly, pulling you from your daze.
“thank you, mistress.”
smug bastard.
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I Want You to Stay (02) | JJK
Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader
Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut
Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)
Chapter Word count: 11.9k
Series Masterlist
Status: Ongoing
Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.
Playlist 🎶: on the way home
A/N: Hiii really touched with all the love for this story! I don’t know about you but this hits harder with all the boys away and we’re missing them so badly. But we’ve got this! 💕 But thank you thank you for all the messages (sorry I can’t get to each one!) and the interest and excitement. Hope you enjoy this one ☺️
And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight 🥰
PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!
Despite hoping that he wouldn’t, Jungkook, in fact, pushes you further away on his second day on the job.
To his defense, it was partly your fault. You smiled at him last night - perhaps due to your delicious dinner that you didn’t even know was from him - and it disarmed him.
The words you uttered after just flew over his head and he just nodded, too out of it to confirm what you’d said. It probably had something to do about you not coming to his penthouse, because it’s Tuesday morning and you’re still not here. He’d expected that like yesterday, you'd prepare his breakfast, and after all that transpired, debrief after yesterday’s meetings and discuss the next steps. That was his routine with Lucas, and for all the things that you seemed to know and do right - from his room design, the doneness of his eggs, and his coffee - this was a miss.
“Aren’t you supposed to be assisting me from the start of the day?” Jungkook says over the phone, his tone sounding annoyed. “I’ve been waiting for you since 6:30.”
Your heart drops at his words, the memory from last night of him agreeing to you sticking to the same schedule you had with Hoseok suddenly feeling like some made up scenario. You remember telling Jungkook that you go straight to the office the rest of the week; you’d only go to Hoseok’s house on Mondays to prepare his clothes and brief him because he’s able to manage from Tuesday onwards. Your new boss, for some reason, perhaps misheard your question. And now you’re the one in trouble.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Jeon,” you bring yourself to say, your voice in a panic because regardless of who’s in the wrong, making him wait is not a good start to his day nor yours, and especially not to your already rocky relationship. “I can get a cab then head to you.”
“So you want me to wait for you some more?” He chides, his dry laugh making you want to throw your phone just so you won’t hear his voice anymore. “Just stay wherever you are, but I want the meeting minutes from yesterday ready when I get there since you’re not here to go over them with me.”
Jungkook hangs up and your head thumping on your desk is immediate. It’s barely the start of the day and you already want to go back home and probably never come back.
You left the office at 9 last night, knowing you were too exhausted to continue working on the annotated documents, and then got soaked in the rain on your way home. You planned on coming to work early - given that your boss didn’t require you to go to his penthouse, a claim you stand by - so you can continue, but now he wants the meeting minutes in an hour, and that isn’t usually due until three days later.
Neglecting the sandwich you planned on eating for breakfast, you work on your notes from the first meeting and then move on to the next. Every footstep you hear makes you anxious, and you breathe a sigh of relief every time you find out it’s not him. Every minute counts and you’re thankful for each one. Until, of course, you run out of it.
“Send them to me now and meet me in my office,” his voice echoes through the hallway that leads to his room.
Jungkook walks straight past you and doesn’t even give you a look.
“Yes, sir,” you squeak, quickly sending the email then scurrying to where he is.
You find him seated on his chair, his leg crossed over the other one as he goes through the notes on his iPad, his furrowed eyebrows making you sweat in worry. He doesn’t seem pleased. But from what you’ve witnessed so far, you doubt there’s much that pleases him.
He encircles words and scribbles on the sides, mumbling “incomplete,” “what does this mean,” and “this is not what I said.”
Jungkook sets the device on his desk and groans. He turns to you with a hard glare, and you clearly see just how displeased he is. Not that you have any defense - it’s your job to do what he asked in a manner that’s up to his standards - but you already felt discouraged in the morning, and your meal skipping caused you to lose focus in the afternoon, resulting in your less than satisfactory documentation of the meeting.
“Ms. Cho, do you know the value of these documents? And why I require them to be comprehensive and done on time?”
“Uh, ye-yes, sir,” you drag out.
“Why?”
It’s too early for this, you think to yourself. Clearly you know why they’re important; you’re just too tired to articulate the reasons to him. But you try, as the words form in your head. You’re about to say them when he stands from his chair and walks towards his desk, leans on the edge and then intently looks at you, as if he’s judging even the way you’re breathing or standing. And you’d probably fail, given how your body seems to cower in his presence.
“Because decisions are made through them,” he says, drowning out your thoughts with his stern voice. “I attend numerous meetings everyday. Decision points can be buried in the discussions unless they’re documented properly. And even when they are, they’re not actioned upon immediately unless I have access to them and unless they’ve been processed and verified. I don’t leave those conference rooms and forget about what took place. They stay in my head, that’s why I ask you to write them down, and that’s why I require you to meet me first thing in the morning so that I can process them with you, and let those points guide me for the rest of the week.”
His glare continues, so does his voice getting louder. “My job isn’t just to sit around and listen to people. I make decisions. And it’s your job to make sure I have all the correct information to make them.”
“I… I understand, sir. And I… I apologize for the oversight,” you stutter, still unable to look at him. “But about this morning, uh… you, uh last night, I—”
“Was there an explicit statement from me about not having you come in the morning?”
“No, sir.”
He lets the silence draw out, perhaps to let your own words sink in. He does have a point. You stand by your claim that you’d asked, and he nodded, but you should also know that such gestures aren’t clear responses, and that’s on you to make sure that you’re both on the same page.
“I’m sorry, sir,” you say with conviction. “I made an assumption when I should have clarified. And even then, it’s your first week as Vice President. I should be assisting you in all the ways I can.”
Jungkook watches your form, hands clasped together with your nails sinking into your skin. Your head is bowed down, unable or unwilling to look at him this whole time. He knows he’s at fault, too, but he’d never admit it; he’s not exactly the type to do that.
You stand there in submission and a part of him wants to apologize, but that’s not the type of weakness he wants to show, not when he needs to establish authority and more importantly, distance.
“I require Lucas to still come every morning because that’s the only time we can debrief about the previous day’s activities,” he says, making his voice calmer now. “We go through the minutes, clarify things, finalize them, and then disseminate so that people don’t forget. Teams collaborate effectively when there’s accountability and when timelines are adhered to. It’s my job to make sure they comply. And that means it’s your job, too. I don’t have to remind you of your roles now do I, Ms. Cho?”
“No, sir,” you respond, finding the strength in you to finally look at him, his hardened stare still unnerving you.
He uncrosses his arms and walks back to his seat. “My cousin and I work very differently from each other. It’s on you to adjust.”
“Yes, Mr. Jeon,” you bow in acknowledgment. “I’ll be at your apartment at 6:30 every morning and I’ll do better with my documentation and preparation of all the files.”
Jungkook just hums then proceeds to work on something on his desktop, which you take as your cue to leave. You bow again and excuse yourself, but his voice stops you as you open the door.
“Push back this morning’s meeting to 9:00,” he says. “And make sure you have something to eat. I can’t have you be unfocused again like yesterday.”
You survive the rest of Tuesday. You eat snacks rather than proper meals, and you find that that helps you more with time and focus. The meetings for that day are less intense, but with you still figuring out exactly how Jungkook wants the documents prepared, you stay up after hours and work on them for the next day, with you constantly going over the recording to make sure that you documented everything correctly.
You arrive at his penthouse at 6:30 every morning during the week. You make his breakfast while he takes a shower, which is really whatever’s in his fridge or pantry. He doesn’t seem to mind what you prepare for him, and you’re glad that he doesn’t find any more severe reasons to dislike you. There’s still the occasional correction of your minutes, but you chalk it up to him just being too particular. There are terms he uses that you’re not familiar with; he’s an architect by training after all.
Perhaps it’s why he’s as specific and detail-oriented as he is, and more visual than anything. Hoseok is a perfectionist like him, but the older man has everything organized in his head and then executes them, whereas Jungkook needs them all laid out before him. Whether it’s about a policy, a process, and especially a design, he makes sure they’re drawn out, and the way they all just make sense to him is immediate.
You suppose that’s what he’s used to. Plans need representation beyond words; he doesn’t seem to be the type to use much of them, in fact, unless he’s correcting you. But that’s what you’ve noticed. At some points during the meeting, he’d draw something on his iPad and send it to you; you both discuss it the next morning, with you finding the words for it for proper documentation.
But his mind doesn’t seem to stop, as you catch him on the way to work sometimes doodling some design on this leather notebook that he carries with him everywhere. Whether it’s the Arts Center or something else, you’re not sure, but you know that any moment he pulls it out, he’d spend a good amount of time on it before getting out of the car.
He remains distant and disengaged as you expect him to be. Unlike Hoseok who asks you how your evening went or how the trip to his house was, Jungkook doesn’t talk about anything that doesn’t concern work. And so when he isn’t talking about it, there’s just silence - whether in the car, in the elevator, or the walk to his room. There’s none of the laughter or the questions about how you’re coping with all your tasks, and there’s definitely nothing about his life that he shares. Not that you thought he would, but the difference with your old boss is striking, as you think of the times when Hoseok happily talked about the salsa studio he was at with A-yeong over the weekend or the movie they watched together the night before.
The comparisons remain in your head throughout the week. You try to focus on your responsibilities but you realize that you haven’t properly moved on from the culture and environment that you used to enjoy when Hoseok was still leading the team, and that has affected your work in obvious ways, and especially your approach to it.
There’s anxiety with every task that Jungkook asks of you, even if they’re things you’ve done so many times in your three years as the VP’s assistant. You find yourself constantly clarifying his instructions, prompting him to question your ability to take them. You feel like he’ll be displeased regardless of what your output is, yet you still end up spending too much time going over files that you forget to eat or clock out too late. You don’t get proper sleep either, nervous about what the next day will bring. You second-guess yourself constantly, and all the confidence you built in all your time here doesn’t seem to have as strong of a foundation as you thought.
So when you make another mistake the following Tuesday, whatever belief in yourself that you have left dissipates.
“Ms. Cho, where is the folder?” Jungkook asks, his gaze hardening the longer you look at him without a word.
You’re currently at a restaurant, given that your boss has a meeting with Mr. Hu, the owner of the company that produces quality materials that Jungkook wants for the Arts Center. This was scheduled just yesterday, which is also when he’d asked you to put together the rough draft plans and design that he worked on last weekend. The project is in its early stages but the plans are clear to Jungkook and he wants to secure this deal early on, especially with Mr. Hu leaving the country for a few weeks.
You finalized this last night and left it on your desk along with the portfolios that Yoongi and the support team have been taking from your shelf. Given the week you’ve had - lack of sleep and frustration more than anything - you rushed to get ready and mistakenly took a portfolio and not the folder meant for this meeting.
“I… I’m so sorry, sir, but I seem to have taken the wrong files,” you stutter, eyes on the ground as you clutch the portfolio for support. “They… they were on my desk along with others and I left them in the office.”
There’s a long pause before Jungkook speaks, the irritation clear in his voice.
“Do you at least have a soft copy?”
“It’s on a USB, sir,” you reply, nervously raising your head. “I left it as well.”
You try your hardest not to look at him, even if it seems like he wants you to, just so you can see the burning way he does it. Because you feel him huffing, you can see how he’s clenching his fists as he controls what he’s feeling, which is definitely anger towards your stupid mistake.
Jungkook clears his throat before turning back to the man seated across from him, his voice apologetic as he explains that you weren’t able to bring it.
“Ah, what a shame,” Mr. Hu says, judgingly glancing at you. “I was really looking forward to seeing your plans, Jungkook. I could’ve advised my people to check on the materials you want this early.”
“I’m really sorry,” Jungkook says. “Perhaps I can email them over to you?”
“Oh don’t bother, I’ll be chasing the Italian sun for the next three weeks,” the older man chuckles. “I’ll see you when I get back. By then, I hope you and your assistant have sorted things out and could give me actual information about what you want.”
“We will, I assure you,” Jungkook says, before saying goodbye to him.
He walks past you and you follow, with no words said as you both wait for the car and enter.
You can hear him panting, and you know enough that's due to an extreme emotion he can’t express. He won’t look at or say anything to you, and that feels more terrifying.
His phone rings, and not only does the person on the other line talk about what just happened, you happen to hear it, too.
“Hey, I heard what happened with the big boss,” the man says. “Did you really go to the meeting unprepared?”
“It wasn’t me, but yeah, what a mess,” Jungkook huffs, his head leaning back on the chair, his eyes closed as he calms himself down. “What did he say? Is he angry?”
“Nah. You’re a Jeon; he can’t be. He was just a bit annoyed because he was supposed to have a meeting with another client but he chose to see you.”
“Fuck. What an embarrassment,” Jungkook groans.
“Well, he does have high praises for your father.”
“And this is his first time working with me. My dad’s gonna hear about it and give me shit for it.”
“Just another normal day at the office, right?” The man laughs. “So, was it your assistant that screwed up?”
Jungkook hums his yes, knowing you’re two seats away from him, although he’s unsure if you can hear their conversation. For your sake, he hopes you can’t.
“See? This is why you should’ve taken Lucas! That guy was always two steps ahead of you.”
“That’s what I said, but when are my requests ever granted? Never. Another normal day at the office, huh?”
“If she’s pretty, maybe you can forgive them and just suffer through her incompetence,” the man laughs again. “I mean, she’s got to have some redeeming quality somehow. If she doesn’t, that just sucks for you.”
“You really enjoy making fun of my misfortunes, huh?” Jungkook huffs.
“Just sometimes. Not used to you not having your way, that’s all.”
“Well, nothing is going my way, that's for sure. But whatever, I’ll figure it out. Make sure Mr. Hu holds out for me, okay? I need you to help me this time.”
“Hey, I may laugh at your misfortunes but I always have your back,” the man says. “Good luck, VP. I’ll see you soon.”
Jungkook drops the call and you feel him glance at you but you remain stiff on your seat, unwilling to move nor look anywhere else that isn’t your lap. You’re glad that he decides to close his eyes for the rest of the ride, though, so you take your chance to shift towards the window and watch the buildings fly by, willing your tears not to fall.
You hold out until you arrive at the building. That is, until Jungkook heads straight to his room and asks you to follow.
“Own up to your mistake and look at me,” he says, his voice seeping with disdain.
You lift your head and meet his eyes, his gaze piercing right through you and you’re unable to move, to speak. But you try - a futile attempt, really - at appealing to the compassionate side of him, if it even exists.
“I’m so, so sorry Mr. Jeon,” you plead for forgiveness. “I didn’t mean to forget the folder. It’s been a tough week and—”
“A tough week?” he mocks, his voice getting louder now. “As if you’re the only one who’s had one? I come here and find myself doing your job. I spent the weekend drafting the designs because I need that deal early only for you to screw it up! My father’s been on to me about this project and I need everything done right but I can’t seem to because my assistant, who’s supposed to be assisting me, can’t even get the most basic things done. All you had to do was bring the folder. You didn’t even have a contingency plan of having a soft copy. Were you not trained for this role?”
You visibly shake but Jungkook doesn’t let up.
“Answer me.”
“I… I was, Mr. Jeon,” you tremble. “I know I’m not the smartest but I work hard and I—”
“You work hard?”
“Yes, sir.”
“In what?”
“In preparing your files and organizing everything for you and…” you try.
A month ago, you’d be saying these things and more with so much conviction. But all it took was one Jeon Jungkook to break you down and make you doubt every single skill you’ve developed and been praised for the past few years.
“And I can criticize each of those tasks in just this one week you’ve been my assistant.”
“I… I just needed guidance, sir, because it’s a new—”
“I need guidance. I need assisting,” he sneers. “My father wanted me to keep you because you apparently know how things are supposed to be done but you’re asking for guidance from me?”
There’s silence on your end and you’ve never felt as small as you do right now. The way Mrs. Byun abused her power over you and humiliated you during your first years here continues to be unmatched, but being treated this way by a man whose family you respect somehow hurts you more.
You want to give up now. You’ll lose everything if you decide to just quit but it’s not like there’s much left of you to go by anyway, given the week that you’ve had. But if there’s anything your mother taught you is that the lowest you can go is when you don’t fight for yourself, so you gather what little dignity you have left and look him in the eyes.
“You do things very differently from Mr. Jung like you said, and I admire your thoroughness,” you start, trying your hardest to calm the tone of your voice. “You’re adjusting to your new role with a new team and a new assistant that you didn’t choose but somehow you have to trust and that’s unnerving if you’re used to being in control of everything. With all due respect, however, perhaps if you let the people around you adjust as well, we would all find a way to work together effectively and respectfully. A little bit of compassion wouldn’t hurt, and it goes a long way.”
At his silence, you continue, digging your nails deeper into your skin to help you remain stable.
“I apologize for all the mistakes this past week. I know it has been unpleasant for you as well. I’ll do better, that I can promise. But if the way I work is not something that is up to your standard, then there’s only one thing to do. Me quitting would put you in a worse light; you can fire me if you think it is best,” you bravely state. “I can deal with the consequences.”
Jungkook continues to just look at you, unable to say anything this time. Perhaps he isn’t used to someone speaking to him like this. Maybe he’s finding the right words to hit you back and break you even more. The tiniest part of you wants to think you’ve softened him up a bit; hopefully he’ll be less angry at you the next time.
“Is there anything you need me to work on, Mr. Jeon?”
“No,” he answers. “Just hold off all calls for me for the next hour. I don’t want to be disturbed.”
“Understood, Mr. Jeon.”
You bow and head out the door.
Jungkook watches you leave, and the farther you become, the more he wishes you’d stay.
He’s unsure why. Perhaps it’s the way you spoke to him, similar to the way you did the first time you met over a week ago - with conviction and grace despite you putting him in his place. Maybe it’s him, trying to find the words to apologize without seeming weak, or to encourage you without being comfortable. The tiniest part of him just wants you around; he doesn’t know what it is about you but he finds himself feeling intense emotions because of you - frustration, fear, and an overwhelming feeling of sadness and regret.
He returns to his seat and glances through the window, the angle of his chair allowing him to see you outside, although he’s unsure if you’re able to see him. Either way, it’s not like you’ve ever looked his way anyway, so he feels a little safe doing this now.
You’re seated and turned away from the desk, with your fingers pressing over both your ears, as if you’re blocking out the sounds of the room; perhaps you’re blocking out his voice that’s probably still echoing in your head. He’d seen you do this last week, too, after you failed to show up at his penthouse in the morning. He thinks it’s your way of dealing with stress, a quiet one, in contrast to boxing like what he prefers to do. It’s the only time he’d ever allow himself to express anything, after all, other than getting mad at you apparently.
You finally turn around, but it’s not long after when Do-hyun arrives and takes your place, leaving him to wonder where you’re off to. He focuses on his work like he meant to do, opting to read and send emails while he calms himself down. His eyes always turn to your desk, though, and when he sees that he’s halfway done but you’re still not back, he decides to head out.
“Mr. Jeon,” Do-hyun stands up and greets him. “Is there anything I can help you with?”
“Where’s Ms. Cho?”
“She had to go to the washroom so she asked me to cover for her first,” she responds. “But, uh… She’s been gone for half an hour. I… I’m not sure what she’s up to but I can—.”
It’s at that moment when you return, and the way that both Do-hyun and Jungkook look at you that you know they can tell. You can’t exactly cry for 20 minutes and then expect to ease the swelling of your eyes for the next 10. But you act like nothing’s amiss, so you dismiss the younger woman and turn to Jungkook.
“Was there something that you needed from me, Mr. Jeon?” You ask nonchalantly.
“Just, uh…” he stutters now, taken aback by the casual way you speak to him despite your glassy eyes. “I’m meeting the CEO and President tomorrow to discuss the Arts Center. Put the initial plans in presentation format and send it to me first thing in the morning.”
“Yes, sir,” you respond, returning to your seat and not sparing him another glance.
You work on the presentation in between the other things you need to finish. You draft memos and letters for Jungkook’s approval, and it’s half past 4 when you enter his room to have them signed.
“I’m heading out at 5 for dinner,” he says as he signs the documents. “I’ve added points on the shared file for the presentation. Make sure to include those.”
“I will, sir.”
There’s a brief moment where you and Jungkook just look at each other, words swimming in your own heads that neither of you wants to say out loud.
You wish he’d offer an apology.
He wishes you’d say that you’re okay.
You want to tell him that the Arts Center already sounds amazing; you hope it turns out the way he imagines.
He wants to tell you that he won’t fire you, that despite how he’s been, he doesn’t want you to go anywhere.
But the moment passes and then it’s gone. You bow once more and then head out the door.
He leaves at exactly 5, merely nodding at you as he leaves.
Jungkook sees you again that evening, four hours later as he drives home after having dinner with Seokjin and Taehyung, the brothers he’d grown up with. The office is on the way, and it’s near the bus stop where he spots you, trying to catch a cab that someone always gets to before you do.
The rain has started to pour, and his anxiety builds; he was never fond of it, given the memory it holds. But it’s you in your thin coat that suspends that for a while. You’re clearly shivering, unable to get a ride, and getting wet from the downpour. You cross the street, seemingly just submitting to the weather, and you disappear amongst the crowd of people just trying to get home.
He checks his phone as he gets a message and sees the email you sent 20 minutes ago - the presentation he’d asked you to submit in the morning. This is you, making up for today, he guesses. He’s why you’re braving the rain. If he’s being honest, he’s why you’re suffering at all, and he can’t help the way his heart stings at the thought.
The convenience store is bright and dry unlike the streets outside, and that’s why there’s a substantial amount of people seeking shelter from the downpour that came out of nowhere.
You welcome the rain. It served as a distraction when you were growing up and your mother’s ex-partner would yell nonstop. You’d hide in your room and cover your ears like your mother taught you to do. When she was able, she’d stay with you and cover your ears with her own hands and tell you that it’s gonna be okay, that even if you can’t stop the scary sounds, you can drown them out enough that they’ll stop bothering you.
You didn’t think you’d ever do so again but you’ve done that twice in one week, and all it took was one Jeon Jungkook to lecture you about what your job entails. He didn’t yell, but his voice was still piercing, firm and low as if he reserves that intensity for instances of pure frustration.
That kind of thing takes a lot out of someone. It’s different when a boss is out to abuse their power and take advantage of you. Mrs. Byun made you do her work so she could spend her lunches out and then take credit for outputs without acknowledging you. She sucked up to the directors to overcompensate for not knowing how to answer their questions. And then she had the guts to embarrass you and call you out in front of the team for not being able to do your primary tasks, which was only because you were doing hers. It took a while but her incompetence caught up to her and her departure felt like freedom. But the experience with her was constricting, suffocating, humiliating. It was dehumanizing, too, as you went home to an empty apartment every night, feeling less and less of yourself.
But the way Jungkook treats you hits differently. You’ve survived the worst and ended up in a good spot under Hoseok’s leadership where you built your confidence. During those years, you felt capable, like you were trusted; you felt that your hard work earned you respect.
Now, you feel all that crumbling. You feel exposed, bare; as if you’re realizing you’re not that good after all. How you’ve been isn’t like you. You’re meticulous, analytical; you’ve sat in so many meetings as an observer and know how things work, how the directors think, and the kinds of outputs expected from you. But recently, you find yourself just lost, questioning everything all the time, and so incapable.
You let yourself feel the burden weigh you down as you eat a small cup of noodles and call it dinner. You walk down the aisles and pick out your favorite snacks, first eating the roasted almonds as you head out the door.
The rain has let up, with but a drizzle left this late evening. You catch the bus and munch on pepero and chocopie this time. You’re in your neighborhood by the time you tear open the frosted mini donuts. You’ve been mindlessly eating the whole time, but once you get off your stop, you start walking towards the community center. The public library is closed but something about sitting outside the door gives you comfort, just like it used to when you were growing up.
Your mom couldn’t really afford daycare. She’d spend her lunch break picking you up from school then dropping you off at a library where her friend worked; that nice woman always looked after you until your mom came back to pick you up. Some days when she wanted to take you away from the mess that was her partner, she’d take you there, too.
You read mostly picture books and colored on your coloring book and played with your paper dolls. Even as you grew up, you didn't really read; you just liked that the library was quiet, comfortable, that it made you feel safe.
Your phone beeps and you see a photo that your mother has just sent of her dry living room floor.
[From: Mom] it isn’t leaking anymore!
You smile, imagining her sigh of relief and the way she’s probably humming about the house. You decide to call her; another bit of comfort would definitely help.
“Hi, darling,” she answers after the first ring. “Min-woo went to the hardware store when he arrived in the afternoon so he could fix the roof. What a relief.”
“That’s great, mom,” you reply, wishing you were back home with her. “You can have a good sleep tonight, then.”
“I will. What about you?”
“I hope so.”
“Have you had dinner?”
“Hmm, yeah,” you hum.
“And where are you now?”
“Outside the library,” you say.
There’s silence that comes after, a way in which you both say things without words sometimes. Your mom is good at that, and even if you can’t see her, you know there’s love in her eyes. And even if she can’t see you, she knows there’s sadness in yours.
“So, work has been tough lately, am I right?”
Even without any confirmation, she already knows. She probably knew when you said that everything was fine after she asked how things were going during your visit over the weekend. She probably picked up the faintness of your smile and the way you fell asleep on her lap while you both watched TV and she combed your hair like she always did.
“The new boss is quite hard on me,” you admit. “He expects too much, asks me to do too much… I’m trying but I keep making mistakes. I’m missing things I normally don’t. I’m not like this, mom. I… I’m better than this.”
“Oh, darling,” she sighs, wishing she’d hugged you a little tighter before you left. “I’m so sorry you’re going through this. Maybe you’re still adjusting. That’s valid, you know? It’s only been a week.”
“Yeah, but he acts like he’s the only one who needs to adjust and that I just magically know how to do things his way,” you groan. “It… it just makes me feel like I’m not good enough. That I… that I shouldn’t be here.”
“___, you didn’t suffer through your first few years there just so you would continue to doubt yourself,” she responds. “You deserve your role, regardless of what he thinks. You work hard and that means everything.”
“Not to him apparently. Even if I work hard, if it’s not up to his standards, it doesn’t mean anything. I can’t even do anything about it because he’s the CEO’s son.”
“You can quit, you know?” She says after a beat of silence. “You don’t have to stay if it’s too much, and especially if it’s unfair. Just because you know you can handle it, doesn’t mean you should.”
The thought settles in your head. You did just tell Jungkook that you’d rather he fire you, which honestly terrifies you because much as he’s insufferable, you do need this job. Helping your mom over the weekend reminded you of that. From the health insurance to the salary, you don’t have to worry too much because you can finally repay her for all her hard work in raising you, in protecting you, in surviving for you.
“I know,” you sigh. “Maybe I just let the tough first days get to me.”
“Whatever it is, you shouldn’t suffer. And you definitely shouldn’t suffer alone,” she advises. “I’m glad you came over during the weekend even if for unpleasant reasons. I got to hug you even if I didn’t know you needed it.”
“I always need it, mom,” you admit. “I don’t have to say it. It’s the only one I get anyway.”
“Well, it’s because it’s the only one you accept,” she points out.
“True,” you laugh. “But I… I’ll do better. I’ll get my head straight tonight and treat tomorrow like my first day and you know, show him I’m capable.”
“That’s good. And you can come over again this weekend if you want. The storm should be gone by then. The girls want to go to the park. I know they’d love to hang out with you. If you don’t have plans of course.”
“You know I only ever have actual weekend plans when Jimin and Soomin visit me. But yes, I can take the trip on Saturday. If Jungkook wants me to do any work… screw him.”
Your mother laughs, only because she knows you don’t mean it. You know it, too. Regardless of how you think of your boss or your job, you know the value of your work, and you’re not one to sacrifice it for any reason.
“Are you feeling better, darling?”
“Yeah,” you smile. “The rain’s stopped somehow. I needed to be here. And I… I needed to hear your voice.”
“Good. You know you can call whenever. I don’t have to summon you with photos of a roof or grilled makchang or something every time.”
“I know. And I will. I’ll see you soon.”
You drop the call and start walking back home. Talking with your mom is the strength you need to get through such a tough day. It doesn’t change your situation; maybe Jungkook will still be upset with you in the morning but you’ll handle it, just like you handled all the difficult times before.
Your mother taught you something else - it was grace. You’d fight back if you need to, but you can always do it with gentleness; sometimes that works wonders, especially if you can’t afford to respond with rage.
You’re quite nervous walking to Jungkook’s penthouse the next morning.
Before he left last night, you were sporting glassy and swollen eyes, after all; it wouldn’t have taken much for him to know what you were up to by being away from your desk for half an hour. But you’d been too upset to think of what he would think about it, so you acted like it was nothing when you returned to your seat, took note of his instructions, and watched him walk out. No other words were spoken and quite frankly, you don’t know what either of you could have said after what transpired. It’s a new day, though, and like you told your mother, you’ll just focus on your work and try to get that old version of yourself back, the one you’d felt slipped away this past week.
You enter the front door - as he’d told you to just go in so you don’t disrupt his workout - and immediately hear the loud sounds of leather hitting leather. He seems to be aggressively punching the sandbag, with more evidence of it coming in the form of his deep and successive breaths that you can hear as you walk towards the kitchen. You stop on your tracks, though, as a pair of red laced underwear lays crumpled on the floor.
That definitely wasn’t there yesterday morning so it must’ve been from last night. You’re not one to judge; he did have a frustrating day that you caused and releasing all that stress in this way is understandable. You just wish he had the courtesy to clean up, knowing that his assistant would be coming but then again, you also don’t know if that’s too much to ask of him.
You don’t realize that you’ve been staring at the underwear until you hear him, his deep breaths in tandem with his steps. You walk towards the counter and set him a glass of water before he notices what’s got your attention, but he still does, as he stops at the spot where you were and lets out a grunt.
From your periphery, you see him pick up the piece of lingerie then throw it in the trash. You turn to him and bow in greeting, and Jungkook merely nods, the slightest of head tilts to acknowledge your presence, seemingly avoiding your eyes, even as you ask what he prefers to eat this morning. You’d like to think that in the recesses of his bitter heart, there’s remorse over yesterday at least, if not over the past few days. But you’ll take it; his silence is better than anything at this moment.
You follow him towards his bedroom, stopping briefly as you look around and make sure you’re not intruding. You’re unsure if the woman is still here, but he picks up on that.
“She’s gone,” he says, walking to his bathroom. “I never make them stay.”
It’s a part of his life that you’ve only heard of. The gossip that Do-hyun hears from the washrooms in the office may be true, considering his weeknight bang and the left-behind underwear on the kitchen floor. He still had some energy based on his morning workout though, and you don’t know why the thought of him fucking someone and then boxing in the morning is making you feel hot all over.
You snap yourself out of it, knowing it’s inappropriate and definitely not what you should be worrying about. He’s a stressed, obviously attractive, and rich bachelor; you’re not surprised he’d have women at his beck-and-call and be nonchalant about it.
You walk inside his closet and choose the shoes and accessories he’ll wear today before heading back to the kitchen to prepare his breakfast. He walks in 30 minutes later, and you approach him to fix his collar and his tie like you always do, now getting used to his natural scent with hints of jasmine and bergamot. Your eyes focus on the silk necktie, hoping you’re able to control your nervous breathing being this close to him.
He may still be annoyed at you and you may be invading his space, and the realization makes you step away quickly, taking his plate from the counter and placing it on the dining table. You open your iPad and go through the presentation he asked you to do, surprised that he’s already added a few things.
“Is the presentation final, Mr. Jeon?” You ask. “I see you’ve already looked through it.”
“Sort of,” he responds. “I woke up at 5 and reviewed it before my workout. Let’s go over them now.”
He looks through his iPad as he eats, going over each slide with you as if he’s practicing. The more he speaks, the more you envision the Arts Center and how he wants it done. The way he puts together the ideas into a coherent design is impressive. You almost see it as he does, and much as you thoroughly dislike him right now, for the sake of all the good things that this center will do for people, you really want him to succeed.
You remind him of a few more things before he finishes his meal, and it’s not long after when you’re in the car, the silence thickening the tension between the two of you once more. This continues until you reach the office, and you breathe a sigh of relief at the distance between the both of you now.
While you do feel better, the anxiety remains. You don’t want to mess up. And as you enter his room to give him papers to sign and you see him going through his presentation while the leather notebook he was drawing on earlier lays open on the desk, you find yourself also just not wanting to disappoint him. He clearly works hard and despite his treatment of you, you want things to work out for him.
It’s an hour later when you’re both walking towards the elevator to head to the conference room on the CEO’s floor. It’s just Jungkook with his father and cousin today where he’ll present the initial plans for their comments and their verbal endorsement of the draft budget.
It’s a massive project that’s working within strict timelines and Jungkook is adamant on getting this ready by mid-next year. You can tell how much he wants to deliver this well - the board of directors would be his next audience and a boost of confidence would be much needed.
You make him a cup of coffee the way he likes and sit next to him. The distance allows you to keep your eyes away from him; with the pressure he’s under, you don’t exactly want to be close to where you can easily trigger him.
CEO Jeon and Hoseok arrive, greeting you with their bright smiles, a reprieve from the stoic looks and tight-lipped and furrowed brows you get from Jungkook everyday.
“Hi, Ms. Cho,” CEO Jeon says. “A week has passed, huh? How has it been?”
“Challenging,” you say honestly, “but still good. I’m learning new things, Mr. Jeon.”
“That’s good,” he smiles, glancing at his son whose eyes are focused on his laptop. The elder seems unconvinced by your half smile but he nods, turning back to you. “By the way, I heard on the news that the typhoon hit your hometown pretty badly. How’s your mother and her family? Mr. Ri mentioned that there was an incident over the weekend. Is everything okay?”
You’re used to CEO Jeon asking things like this prior to meetings. He believes it’s a way to release certain feelings and not keep them hidden, and while you don’t really want to talk about it right now, you appreciate the concern.
“She, uh. A large tree fell over our house last Saturday,” you say, to the surprise of both CEO and President. “I had to travel in the morning to help my mom. A portion of the roof was damaged and she had to call a company to fix it. Min-woo and the girls were away and mom didn’t want to deal with the workers since she was alone so I had to stay over the weekend.”
“That’s unfortunate,” the elder Jeon laments. “How is your house now? And your mom?”
“The roof is sealed. But she slipped on some debris and had to be assisted; she was being stubborn about it. She’s okay, though.”
“Ah, it must’ve been a tough few days. And for you, too,” Hoseok says. “I mean, given all the work and then having to be there for her. I’m sorry, ___. But I’m glad she’s doing better. Tell her I send my regards, okay?”
“I will, thank you.”
Jungkook tries not to look affected as the older men ask you more details about what happened that he, of course, didn’t know about. There’s that guilt over how he treated you yesterday, learning now what you had to do over the weekend. You don’t seem the type to blame any oversight or mistake on something like that, but he would know that the tiredness and preoccupation could definitely affect things. Even more, he’d implied that you don’t work hard and that you’re being a burden to him, which is far from the truth.
The conversation ends and he’s unable to look at you, as he stands from his seat to begin his presentation. Everything is set up, including a pointer and a marker and a glass of warm water on his side. He proceeds, presenting his design, the materials, the budget, and the timeline.
You take note of all his answers to the questions and the ideas he comes up with on the spot, with him repeating things and stating how he wants certain points written down. You’re immersed in your own task, feeling like you’ve found your rhythm because you’ve done this so many times but the fear got ahead of you. This morning, it’s as if you’re in your element again, and there’s relief that fills you this time.
The meeting is moved to a restaurant after the third hour. There’s an event that the CEO suggests that Jungkook’s team organize as a way to build linkages with the arts and culture networks, making sure that the younger Jeon becomes known in those fields as well.
You have to go by memory as you listen and eat your meal, but the distance from Jungkook remains. You merely nod at his words and avoid looking at him unless you need to. It’s your way of getting over last night, you think. You still have his look of frustration etched in your mind and it’s still a bit fresh; you’d need at least another day before you can look at him normally again. You hope that other than Jungkook himself, no one notices.
But you suppose you’ve underestimated Hoseok’s ability to pick up on your behavior; it’s one of his strengths as a leader, after all. He’s always been good at reading people, a skill that Jungkook clearly didn’t develop.
“Hey.”
“Mr. Jung,” you greet, a wave of nostalgia hitting you because his smile is one you used to see everyday, regardless of how stressed he was. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“No, not really. It’s just been over a week but I’m still getting used to the bigger office and the new secretary but I just wanted to check in,” Hoseok says. “You and Jungkook have been very busy, I rarely catch either of you.”
“Well, he wanted to get all the introductions out of the way so he can focus on the Arts Center,” you reply. “There’s a lot happening with that one so he’s in meetings and calls all the time.”
“Ah, of course. It’s a good design and I’m sure it’ll boost the local arts scene. He got inspired during his travels in the Southeast Asia sites and has been talking about it for years. It’s good he has the freedom to work on this now.”
You merely nod, not having much to say about your boss’ passion project that’s just made him angry and frustrated. Quite frankly, you don’t know how he is when he isn’t working on such high-pressure matters, but you can already tell he isn’t someone you’d want to be around in any other context.
“But how about you? Are you getting enough rest? All these meetings and then traveling home on the weekend is tiring, ___. I hope you’re looking out for your health.”
“I am,” you try to assure him. “I can handle it.”
You smile before shifting your eyes to your desktop screen, not wanting to look at him any longer because a second more and you’d probably burst into tears. Experiencing Hoseok’s kindness for these few minutes has just reminded you of what you constantly miss - that feeling of safety and care, of someone looking out for you and not holding you back.
“I’m glad you are,” he smiles again, holding your gaze when you glance at him, and Hoseok hopes that in this short moment of calm, he’s able to give comfort that he just knows you need. “Anyway, I just wanted to drop by. I’ll see you around, yeah?”
“I’ll see you, Hoseok.” And as if you knew why he came over in the first place, you add, “and thank you.”
Jungkook sighs in frustration as he watches your fading smile before returning to type away on your desktop. He was about to call you to ask for a project portfolio on the shelf but stopped once he saw you talking to his cousin. You seemed a tad bit lighter than usual; Jungkook could only assume it’s your natural state, even if all he’s seen of you is that of perpetual worry and stress.
He thinks to himself that a part of that is because of him. Maybe a big part, he admits. He wouldn’t have known about your town in Daegu or that your mother resides there and that you had to go home over the weekend, hence, your oversight yesterday. He’s at least decent enough to acknowledge that he shouldn’t have been so harsh on you in the first place. He’s just not used to things not going his way; he wonders now what the people under him suffered through to make sure of that.
Not wanting to disturb you, he decides to get the portfolio himself, so he exits his room and leans on your desk, his eyebrows scrunched as he reads through the spine labels of the folders. He doesn’t notice you stand up and attempt to ask what he needs but he does find it, reaching over on the third shelf for it.
“I could’ve gotten that for you,” you huff.
Jungkook spots a small pout as you utter the words, disarming him a little.
“It’s… it’s fine,” he mumbles, willing his mind to go back to what he was thinking about before you said something, which is the other project he wants to look at.
But you pick up on his words. “Seongbuk, 2021,” you repeat.
You look up and know exactly where the portfolio for that project is. You drag your stool with your foot and walk up the steps, carefully pulling out the folder and underestimating just how heavy it is. But before it can slip out of your fingers, Jungkook gets a hold of it, his right hand gripping the spine while his left palm supports your back.
You stiffen when you realize just how close he is to you then step down the stool, somehow nervous to look at him.
“I, uh, sorry. You were about to fall.”
You stiffen again because he didn’t just apologize, did he? Your eyes are glued to the ground and you don’t see Jungkook’s surprised look.
Because he did just that. What felt more alarming than his apology was that it had been a reflex for him to have his hand behind you, his heart leaping a bit because you really were close to falling. An injured version of you isn’t something he wants to deal with, and he convinces himself that it’s because it would look absolutely terrible for his assistant to get hurt on the job, and especially in his presence.
“Is that all you need, Mr. Jeon?”
“Uh, yes,” he responds. “Be, uh, be careful.”
He takes both folders and heads back to his room, his face buried in the pages as you sneak a glance at him from the window.
“So, how’s the second week as VP going?” Hoseok asks his cousin from across the table of their favorite Japanese restaurant during their Friday lunch. “Worse than the first?”
Jungkook, not keen on answering truthfully, merely shrugs.
“Well, I can bet you though that ___ is definitely having it worse than last week.”
“Did she say anything? About me specifically?” Jungkook asks, his curious eyes telling Hoseok that it’s more of concern than anger.
“Of course not. She’s there to protect you, Kook, not tell on you. Is there something to say? About you specifically?”
Jungkook knows how well his cousin can read people, especially him. They’d grown up together after all, and had gotten close because the older man always stayed next to him, knowing how shy little Jungkook used to be. So he narrates what happened - that he’d gotten angry, that he was being too strict, that he wasn’t leaving you room for adjustment. He’d of course excluded his own oversight and need to establish distance and authority, chalking it up to not having the familiarity and conveniences he’d been used to back in Singapore.
“I feel like working with father even closer now, it’s like I’m under a microscope,” Jungkook continues. “I don’t wanna mess up. I just don’t wanna give him a reason to criticize or question me.”
“Well, if he learns about how it’s been with ___, he’ll do exactly those things,” Hoseok responds. “He cares about his people, you know? I’m sure that’s the one thing he wants you to do right.”
“Can’t say I’d know. It’s not like he’s any more compassionate than I am. We’re talking about a man who yells at the managers who can’t get things done right.”
“They were abusing their power, that’s why,” Hoseok explains. “And I’m not here to defend the man - I’ve been on the receiving end of his anger twice and saw how he’d push people to their near breaking point a few times but he’s not a terrible person. I’ve seen him be understanding and caring to his staff way more; you just haven’t been around that much.”
“It’s not what I saw growing up.”
“Well, we remember what we want, and forget the parts that don’t make sense to us.”
Jungkook stays silent as he munches on his steak.
“He wants to get closer to you, you know?” Hoseok continues. “He hopes that with you being around, he can mentor you, learn from you. All those years that you were home, you felt so far away from him, farther away than Jeong-sik who wasn’t even here, and he doesn’t know why.”
“He can’t expect to be a rich, ambitious businessman and be close to his son,” Jungkook huffs. “All he ever cared about when I was growing up was work. Sure, he had rare good moments, but we all know it was to compensate for always being too busy. He pressured me to do well at school then missed awarding ceremonies. He scheduled some family time then left me and my brother in some cabin in the woods by ourselves. He wants to work with me here then disallows my requests. What does he want from me?”
“Your time, I suppose. Maybe your understanding, too.”
“Did he give those to me when I was younger? He had so many chances these past 30 years and he wants those now?”
“People are complicated, Kook. Sometimes they lose sight of what’s important, of what’s in front of them… doesn’t mean they’re bad people,” Hoseok says. “And it doesn’t mean they don’t deserve a second chance. I mean, don’t we all want that? Don’t we all grow out of our bad habits and just yearn for something good?”
“Not everyone does that.”
“Maybe not, but your father has. And he just wants another chance. And whether or not it was her fault, I’m sure ___ wants that, too.”
“Did you really ask me to treat you to lunch only to advocate for the people I don’t really care much about?” Jungkook laughs bitterly.
“No,” Hoseok chuckles. “I really wanted to try it here. But also, uncle took me out to drinks before you arrived and was all honest with me, which was a little weird but I guess he thought he could get some perspective from you through me. And ___ was my assistant and I think highly of her. It’s upsetting how things started for you both. I guess I just feel kind of caught in the middle between you and the people you actually care about. So yes, I deserve this free lunch.”
Jungkook doesn’t correct his cousin, more for the fact that Hoseok really does get caught in the middle - always has, even between him and his older brother whom Jungkook never really got along with; it definitely isn’t because he acknowledges that he cares about you. There’s no reason for him to feel that; you’re just his assistant, after all.
Being beautiful and capable and hardworking doesn’t have anything to do with being cared about.
“I… I admit being too hard on ___. I get that she’s good and stuff but maybe that fits with your leadership style more,” Jungkook tries to reason. “Maybe she just thrives in a team where she’s led by someone like you, someone who’s good with people and who’s process-oriented and I don’t know, someone who isn’t as tough or meticulous like me.”
“I’m sorry, Kook, but you sound stupid. You clearly don’t know anything about her. She’s experienced all the lows - the disrespect from the men, the abuse of power from the women, all the long hours and ridiculous deadlines, the loudest of yells and the craziest demands,” Hoseok exclaims. “She’s been here for just eight years but it feels more. Sometimes I don’t know why she stayed but I’m glad she did, selfishly, and that’s because she helped me so much. Are you… are you giving her reasons to leave so you can have Lucas with you?”
“No,” Jungkook dismisses the thought, although he does admit it entered his mind before he even started. “I’m just… not used to her. And the mishaps didn’t help. I just wanna be able to do my job and do it right.”
“And you will, if you just loosen up a bit and give her a chance to show you that she can help you. It’s just that I’m not seeing that same joy and energy in her eyes and her smile,” Hoseok explains. “I was thinking last Wednesday that maybe it was because of her mom but during the meeting this morning, it was the same. I’d hate to think that’s because of you. Because if it is and she’s thinking of resigning, I won’t stop her. I might even suggest it to her. “
The thought of you being gone causes a lump in Jungkook’s throat. It’s selfish, really, because despite how he treats you, he still wants you here. It’s just as silly, and stupid, and something he doesn’t have a clear reason for. But other than his cousin not trusting that he could treat you fairly, it’s the possibility that you might just quit yourself, something you seem to be capable and willing to do. And that voluntary departure is something he doesn’t want to deal with. Once you leave, you’ll just be gone; he won’t have a reason to seek you.
“I’ll do better,” Jungkook finally says. “I’ll stop being such a pain in the ass and be… kinder, I guess.”
“She’ll probably see right through you if you fake it,” Hoseok laughs. “Just be fair. Trust me, that’s what she’d want, too. Correct her if you need to, but do it constructively. And please, try to smile every once in a while. It won’t hurt you. Nor would it ruin whatever tough guy image you have.”
Jungkook playfully rolls his eyes but he lets out a chuckle. His cousin won’t ever let go of the fact that 18-year old Jungkook had his first tattoo because he wanted to look tough.
“I still have to establish authority, Hoseok. I can’t do it like you do.”
“Well, you’re missing out. Smiling always makes you feel a hundred times better.”
“She’ll probably see right through me if I fake it,” Jungkook repeats his cousin’s words almost mockingly. “I’m pretty sure everyone knows I’m not… cheerful. It’s like, how I’m compared to you.”
The two start walking back and Hoseok takes a jab at the younger man. “Actually, I heard that I’m the handsome one, too, and the stable guy, the family man, the man you’d take home to meet your parents…”
Jungkook laughs along. He agrees, and while it was not Hoseok’s intention at all, it does make Jungkook wonder even hours later - given all the things that characterize him, which are nothing like the older man’s - who would want him? Who would even take a chance on him? Who would even think it’s worth it to be with him?
Chaerin did, and then he self-sabotaged and lost her. Maybe the women he meets at clubs and takes home, but then all they want is a good time anyway, just like him. Maybe it’s someone he’s never met, but he also doesn't know how to be someone that someone else would love.
Maybe there isn’t any. And maybe that isn’t so bad. Perhaps he’d have to start getting used to that fact; it’s easier than realizing he’s not meant to be with someone after all.
He pauses the thought and decides that’s for the weekend version of him to lament over. This Friday afternoon, he’s focused on firming up the project details with the design and logistics teams. He’d just finished his meeting with them, with you barely looking his way just like you’ve done throughout the week - which he can’t fault you for because he was doing the same - and he’s back in his room to coordinate with other units.
You, on the other hand, seem to be fixated on the quarterly reports that you’ll be handing over to him. It’s past 5 and he knows you’ll be staying up late again, given that he’d ordered you at the start of the week to finish the reviews by Friday. He’s given you too much to do, and after everything he’s done, letting you off early is a way for him to apologize without actually apologizing.
He picks up the phone and calls you.
“How many reports do you have left to review?” He asks.
“Three more, Mr. Jeon,” you answer. “I’ll finish them tonight, please just give me another hour and a half.”
“Are you going home to see your mother tomorrow?”
“Uh, yes, sir. I leave in the morning,” you say, curious at the question that you never thought he’d ask.
“You should clock out now, then.”
“Oh, but the reports, sir. I—”
“It’s okay,” he says, surprising you. “I’ll be busy with Arts Center details this weekend so I won’t have time to sign off on the reports anyway so you can continue them on Monday.”
You’re too shocked to speak that it doesn’t register that you’re indeed not saying anything.
“Ms. Cho?” Jungkook repeats your name.
“Oh, uh, yes, as long as it’s okay, Mr. Jeon.”
“Yes, that’s what I just said.”
“That’s, uh, thank you,” you mumble, turning on your roller chair to retrieve your bag and start packing, only to look up and see through the window that Jungkook can see you right now, smiling like a giddy child. There’s this movie that’ll show on your favorite local channel and you’re glad that you’ll be able to catch it tonight.
You’re unsure what Jungkook’s eaten to be dismissing you this early. Maybe it was the lunch he had with Hoseok earlier; maybe it was the older man knocking some sense into him. You don’t have the energy to think about it, given that you now also have time to cook yourself proper dinner and enjoy eating it while watching and curling under your comfy blanket on your tiny couch, just like how you used to enjoy your Fridays.
You’ll deal with the unreviewed reports and Jungkook returning to his normal, grumpy self on Monday. Tonight is all about you, and the weekend version of you is about being with your mother, her partner, and your stepsisters. There’s nothing like being with the people who make you feel safe; you’ll deal with the stress when a new week rolls by.
Jungkook watches you excitedly leave your desk. He can’t imagine the relief you’re feeling of being relieved this early and then spending your Friday evening the way you want, however that is. He lets himself wonder for a bit how you would spend time by yourself. Yoongi did say your friends aren’t in Seoul and your family obviously isn’t.
But then again, maybe you do have a partner, and maybe that’s why you looked as happy as you did. He’s not quite sure what to do with the slight distress at the thought, but with the absurdity of the amount of times he thinks about you, he decides it shouldn’t matter anyway.
He has his own plans, too, like watching sports over bottles of beer that night, and then playing video games the next day before going to a bar with Seokjin and Taehyung.
That Sunday, he works all morning then works out in the afternoon. In the evening, he decides to meet his friends again.
Entering the club, he spots the table where they are - Seokjin has his arm around a woman and his lips glued to her ear; he pulls her closer as she laughs at his words. Taehyung has one next to him, too; they’re engaged in some serious conversation, it seems, given how passionately they’re talking to each other. That is, until his hand slides inside her dress; maybe it wasn’t that deep.
Jungkook doesn’t know how his friends can converse with the women they find in these places. Given, Seokjin tends to stick to the same one for months and Taehyung is just naturally flirty and friendly so maybe it’s not that hard.
For Jungkook, it’s just not something he’s able to fully or even properly do. What does he say? He’d brag about his work and his lifestyle if he was the type, but he isn’t, and there’s nothing else about him that he’d like to share. He’s always straightforward when it comes to these things. He’s picky; he does have a type, after all, but he always knows what they want and so do they.
So when he spots a woman by the bar - the one who’d bought him a drink last night - he just smirks as she takes her shot and bites her lips when she catches him looking.
“Hey, I finally caught you sober,” she giggles in his ears after she meets him halfway.
“And I finally caught you without a man next to you,” he whispers. “Should I be worried?”
“Nah, he was just my plaything last night,” she responds. “I could be yours.”
Jungkook chuckles, enjoying her bluntness. He takes her hand and waves at his friends; they already know he’s taking off and they won’t hear from him for the rest of the night.
It’s the way most of his evenings go anyway, whether he’s here or in Singapore or elsewhere, really.
Jungkook likes the thrill, he likes the shallow intimacy he gets from the feelings of ecstasy and carnal desire. He likes that he doesn’t have to share anything about himself apart from his name so they could scream it, likes that there’s nothing about the other person to uncover, and that there’s nothing about himself he has to be honest about. He likes that he’ll remember the pleasure until the next day but nothing else - not her breathing, not her gentle touches on his chest, not her soft whispers of his name.
There’s nothing much about her he’ll care for other than that she had a good time. And there’s nothing about tonight he’ll regret, except not making sure that she left his apartment like he always asks them to do.
Because it’s Monday morning, and there’s that woman wearing his coat and nothing else.
And then there’s you, dressed in your skirt and blouse in his living room, with a look of shock on your pretty face.
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Ermitage Saint-Antoine de Galamus, France - 2017
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Marcelo Villegas room divider
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"Belong" - Young!Coriolanus Snow x Reader
a/n: aaand first time writing for coryo. i have failed you, ancestors, i have failed you. making a taglist for this war criminal so lmk if you wish to be added 🩷
Summary: Your best friend comes back from District 12 changed. And you wonder if the boy you knew is still there, buried deep inside.
Word Count: 1,325
Rating: 18+, MDNI
TW: HEAVY DUBCON, afab reader, she/her pronouns, profanity, innuendo, heavy overstim, oral f receiving, fingering, p in v sex, creampie, choking, hair pulling
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Hunger Games/Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.
Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷
Just a year ago, you would’ve been able to say with total confidence that you know Coriolanus Snow better than anyone in the world. Both of you came from prominent families, so it made sense that you would gravitate toward each other. While many thought of you as airheaded and vapid, Coryo always seemed to see beyond that. To see the real you. The two of you often said that it was you against the world.
But, when he returns from his time as a peacekeeper in District 12, things have changed between the two of you. He has changed. You don’t know what to make of it at first. He’s back with you now, but his eyes always seem so far away. And anytime you try to ask him what’s wrong, he just gives you a small smile, assuring you that everything is fine and you don’t need to worry about him.
There’s an edge to him that there never was before. Your Coryo was soft and gentle and loving. Your best friend. This Coryo is so different. Anytime you mention hanging out with one of your other friends from the Academy, his jaw goes rigid, his eyes narrow as he stares at you and questions why the two of you can’t just spend time together like always. His arm around your shoulder, which used to feel like the affectionate gesture of a best friend, now feels like a weight on you, a reminder that you shouldn’t be looking anywhere except at him, talking to anyone except to him.
You’re lazing about in the room of the penthouse he now resides in, laying on your stomach on his bed, ankles crossed as you absent-mindedly flip through a magazine with the latest Capitol fashions, though your focus isn’t on what Tigris’ newest designs are. You peer over the edge of the magazine at your best friend, watching as he scribbles away in his notebook.
“You’re staring again.”
His voice shakes you from your reverie and you hum in acknowledgement, returning to your magazine before calling back, “Not looking.”
Coryo chuckles, setting down his notebook and turning his chair to face you. You can feel his gaze moving along your body, taking in the bare skin of your legs in the tiny shorts you wear. It feels almost like a shark sizing up its prey before going in for the kill. You continue flipping through your magazine, hoping that he stops looking sooner than later.
“We used to talk more,” he muses, his voice soft as he continues staring at you before questioning playfully, “What, is that magazine more interesting than me now?”
When you don’t answer, too busy pretending to read your magazine, he moves to sit down beside you on the bed, snatching it out of your hands and tossing it to the floor. You let out a huff of annoyance, turning to face him, pouting.
“I was reading that, Coryo!”
He laughs quietly, moving to run his fingers through your hair, those icy blue eyes meeting yours, feeling as if they could bore right through you with their intensity, “You look cute when you pout like that.”
“Shut up,” you mumble, crossing your arms as you sit up on the bed, “I’m gonna go home-”
Coryo hums, grabbing your arm before you can move, his hands, now calloused from his time as a peacekeeper, running along your smooth, soft skin, “I don’t think you really want to go home. Just give me an apology kiss and we can hang out a little longer.”
You wrinkle your nose in distaste before retorting, “Best friends don’t kiss, Coryo. Don’t be weird.”
That’s likely true for most best friends, but it never was for you and Coryo. Before he left, you would always kiss him, hug him, shower him with physical affection. It wasn’t until Arachne pointed out, a few weeks before the fateful Games, that best friends don’t kiss. Coryo frowns, grabbing you by the chin and forcing you to look at him.
“You’ve always kissed me,” he remarks, his voice stern as he stares you down, “Don’t start acting like you don’t like it either. I know you do.”
You squirm in his grip, your heart thudding against your ribcage, “Coryo, stop…”
He ignores your protest, cupping your face in his hands. Though his grip is somewhat gentle, his voice is harsh.
“Kiss me. Now.”
You shake your head, “No.”
Your best friend frowns, his fingers digging into your jaw now, eyes narrowing, “Don’t tell me no, princess. I know you want to kiss me. So just do it.”
You shake your head, looking up at him with wide eyes. Coryo’s thumb moves along your plump lower lip, pressing down on it before releasing. He licks his own lips, leaning in closer, his breath tickling your face. Before you can say anything, he presses his lips against your own, kissing you himself, moving to pin you down onto his bed. You let out a yelp of surprise, completely taken aback by his actions, pushing at his chest, though your attempts are fruitless. You try to keep your lips pressed together, not letting him deepen the kiss, but he has no intention of letting you succeed. Coryo bites down on your lower lip, making you let out a whine as your lips part, his tongue pushing inside your mouth, exploring every bit of you. He’s been so patient for so long, it’s finally his time to take you as his. To mark you.
His hands move down to your sides, squeezing every bit of exposed flesh he can, moving down to your thighs as he continues kissing you, “You’re going to be mine. No more best friends.”
You feel his lips on your neck, your voice coming out breathier than you intended as you murmur, “Coryo, please, I…”
Coryo bites down on your neck, reveling in the soft little moan you let out as his lips move along your collarbone. You won’t deny him. You’ve never denied him anything. He knows you won’t deny him this.
“No more running from this. From me,” he murmurs against your skin, “I’m going to mark you. Make you mine and mine alone. You’re never even going to think about another man again. Only me.” His fingers move to your hair, tugging harshly, the slight ache making you let out another moan, “Stop denying what you know you need, princess.” The soft whimper you let out as he bites down on your neck urges him on - he’s wanted you for so long now, having you be his is finally within his grasp, “You can’t run from me anymore. Say you want me to make you mine. Say you want to belong to me.”
You shake your head, your weak protests falling on deaf ears as he pulls off the flimsy excuse for a tee shirt you have on, lips twisting into a smirk when he sees that you’re wearing nothing beneath it. He moves his hands to cup your tits, kneading them in his palms, groaning at how soft you feel against him. And when you continue to protest, a low growl emanates from his chest, his voice firm as he glares at you.
“Say it.”
He’s not going to stop. Not until you give him an answer he wants to hear. And the thing is, the longer he kisses you, the longer he touches you, your will to resist him dwindles further and further. You gasp as you feel his hands moving to the waistband of your shorts, his thumb brushing against you over the fabric of your panties. You sink your teeth into your lower lip at the feeling, barely able to hold yourself back from bucking your hips up against him, chasing his touch as he teases you. He’s not going to do anything until you tell him you’re his.
Coryo leans in, brushing his nose against yours, repeating himself, “Say it, princess. Say you’re mine.”
“I,” you breathe, eyes fluttering shut as his thumb presses down against your clit, “Yes, Coryo, I’m yours…”
“That’s my good girl,” he rasps, lips capturing yours again in a searing kiss, one where you lose all concept of time and space - there’s only Coryo. “Don’t you ever deny me again. You understand me, princess? You’re all fucking mine.”
He tugs off your shorts and panties, tossing them aside, admiring your naked body laying beneath him. You feel more vulnerable than you ever have in your entire life, the way he stares you down like a ravenous wolf. He tugs at the collar of his shirt, undoing the top few buttons, the material of it rough against your skin as he lowers himself onto you. His grip on your hips is almost bruising as he pulls you closer to him, making you cry out his name in surprise. Your eyes widen when he moves to sit back slightly, ridding himself of his shirt before pushing your knees apart. You tremble slightly, trying to press them back together, only for Coryo to let out a low snarl, tossing your legs over his shoulders and burying his face between your thighs.
For a second, you wonder if you’re even still alive, if this is all just a fever dream. The way his tongue moves against you is downright sinful, and worse still? Those blue eyes remain locked on yours. And the moment you try to close your own or look away, you’re reprimanded with a heavy-handed slap against your ass. And so you watch as he mouths at your pussy, his tongue lapping at your folds eagerly, reveling in every mewl of his name, every whimper. And when you reach your peak, he doesn’t seem to have any intention of stopping, continuing his onslaught, stiffening his tongue as he moves it in and out of you, almost as if he’s teasing you with what’s to come next.
Your second climax hits you harder than your first, eyes rolling back as he moves to focus his attention on your clit, wrapping his lips around the sensitive button while he pushes two long fingers inside of you, crooking them in a come hither motion that has you squirming away from him. But Coryo just pulls you right back, suckling at your pearl, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.
“Coryo, ‘s too much,” you cry out pathetically, your entire body feeling as if it’s on fire.
He gives you a smug smile as he pulls his lips away from you, though his fingers continue their work, rubbing against that rough patch deep inside of you, making you let out a squeal of his name, “Say it. Say you want me to stop.”
“I don’t,” you reply weakly, eyes fluttering shut, “I don’t want you to stop.”
And when you come, soaking his fingers, he pulls them away from you, loving the way your body wracks with shivers. You’re being so good for him, so responsive. He pushes his fingers between your lips, a silent demand for you to lick them clean, which you immediately obey. His gaze is focused on you as your eyes close, your tongue swirling around his fingers. His pretty princess. Never one to deny him anything.
“Such a good girl.”
You shy away under his praise, a soft smile lighting up your features. And he knows in that moment that you want this just as bad as he does. He unbuttons his trousers, pushing them down his legs slowly along with his boxers, making your eyes go wide at the sight of his cock, achingly hard, pre cum weeping from the tip. You squirm when he runs the tip of it along your overstimulated cunt, watching as you whimper when he slaps it against your clit. The control he has over you, over your body… It’s intoxicating. He doesn’t know how he lived without this before.
You cling to him as he sheathes his cock inside you, your entire body trembling as you feel him fill you to the hilt. Coryo gives you a moment to adjust before pulling back out and pushing back into you again, making you cry out his name. His thrusts start out as even and measured, but the feeling of your warm, tight pussy around him sends him into a frenzy as he begins to slot his hips against yours without mercy.
“Who do you belong to?” He demands, hand wrapping around your throat, squeezing just enough to restrict your airflow.
“You,” you manage to rasp, your hips bucking up against his to meet his movements.
“Say my fucking name, princess. Who do you belong to?”
“You, Coryo,” you mewl, throwing your head back, tears spilling from your eyes, “Feels so good…”
Coryo pins your hips down into the mattress, rutting against you wildly, feeling you soak his cock, crying out his name. And when you say those two words, “too much”? All he does is speed up, a devious smirk on his face as he flips you onto your stomach, fucking into you at a new angle, one that has him getting closer and closer to his own end. You make no move to get away from him, his hands moving to your breasts, squeezing them as he fucks you like some sort of depraved animal, no thought except ripping another climax from you and spilling himself inside of you.
And when he does, that’s when he finally collapses against you onto the bed, pulling you into his arms. You stare at the ceiling, panting heavily, trying to catch your breath. When you do, you turn to face him, only to find him already staring at you, a soft smile on his face.
For a moment, however fleeting, he’s there. The old Coryo. He brushes your hair off your face, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then each of your cheeks, before brushing his lips against your own.
“You’re mine now, princess,” he whispers, “All fucking mine.”
And for whatever odd reason, you’re quite alright with that idea.
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Alastor X Reader - Dressing Up As Him
"Hum hum hum~♫" Alastor was walking around the hotel lobby, humming a tune to himself as his eyes scanned all of the inhabitants at the hotel. Charlie and Vaggie were putting up more banners and decor in the lobby, Nifty was sweeping, and Husk and Angel Dust were at the bar. Alastor kept looking around to spot you, but he had no luck. Heading over to the bar, he leaned over the counter, smiling his signature grin. "Ah, Husker my good friend! Having a good day?" Alastor said, as he gazed at the grumpy cat, wiping a glass with a towel. "F*** off." said Husk, as he glared at Alastor, not wanting to deal with him. "Hey smiles~ Looking sexy as always." said Angel Dust, as he leaned back slightly on the bar stool, winking at Alastor. "Please refrain from flirting with me Angel.” Alastor said, extending his mic towards Angel, trying to move him away. "Ah your no fun." said Angel as he pushed Alastor's mic away from, and crossed his arms, placing them on the bar stand. "Anywho! Have any of you seen y/n? I didn't happen to see them in the lobby." Husk just shrugged his shoulders, as he didn't really know where you were, but he also answered quickly as he just wanted Alastor to leave. Angel dust was nice enough to answer as he told Alastor that he had heard you, rummaging around your room along with music playing in the background. He was gonna bother you, wondering what was happening, but he decided not to, and left you alone. "Thank you Angel! I will go find them now!” said Alastor as he walked away from the bar, missing the wave from Angel and the middle-finger from Husk.
Heading towards your room, Alastor was hoping that you were alright. Before, Alastor didn't really care much about you when he first met you as he though of you as another simpleton staying at the hotel, but after talking and hanging out with you a few times, he slowly started to care about you as he found you to be a rather sweet soul that wasn't common to see in Hell, with the exception of Charlie. Of course, he would hide that from the others as he had a reputation to uphold as being "the radio demon", so the less the people knew he had a kind heart, the better. Arriving at your door, Alastor knocked a significant beat, calling out your name, hoping for an answer. He could hear what sounded like electric swing playing in your room, but no response from you. He wanted to barge in, but he thought that would be rude so he continued to knock until you answered.
Standing in front of the mirror, you were eyeing yourself to make sure everything was set in place, and your outfit was fitted perfectly to yourself. You were wearing a striped red coat on top of a red dress shirt with a black bow tie that matched with the dress pants and black shoes, along with the outfit, you had on a red wig with a deer ear headband on top of it. Yes, you were wearing Alastors exact outfit. You really loved Alastors look, and you actually wanted to cosplay as him, but you would never tell Alastor that, as you didn't want to weird him out if he had caught you wearing his outfit, thinking you were some type of creep. You did remember that Alastor was very close to the overlord, Rosie, who owned the big emporium, so you had confided with her if she could help with your cosplay idea. Rosie was very surprised, but found your efforts cute and she actually was able to connect you with the tailor that designed a lot of Alastors clothing. It took a while, but you were able to get the whole outfit from the tailor, and you couldn't be more excited and happy to try it out. You had everything fitted to a T, but the only thing missing was the microphone, but you could think of an idea for that later. Staring at your reflection, you stretched your mouth into a wide smile, trying to match Alastor. The smile looked great, but holding that smile all day was going to be very difficult as your cheeks started to ache. Sighing, you turned away from the mirror and headed towards the radio to turn the music down. As the music died down, the thumping beat from the door, alerted your prescence: "Yes, who is it?", you called out. "Hello, Its me, darling. Are you well? I noticed you were not with the others in the lobby, so I decided to pay you a visit!” Oh No! Alastor was here, in front of your room. You couldn't bear for him to see you, wearing his outfit. "Um, I'm okay. Just tiding a bit, don't worry." You lied, as you were hoping Al would head back to the lobby. "Ah, I see! Well you wouldn't mind if I come inside, do you? I would very much like to have a nice chat.", Alastor said, as he continued to stand at the door on the other side. Oh Satan, he was not planning on leaving. Panicking, you run towards the door, unlocking it, to signify to Al it was open, before running towards your bathroom, closing the door.
Entering inside Y/N room, Al looked around your room, but didn't spot you anywhere. "Darling? Where are you?," Alastor called out, as he made his way further into your room, standing with his hands behind his back. "I'm in the bathroom, Al. Just washing up a bit. You can sit on the bed and we can chat from here." He had heard you call out. Arching his eyebrow, Alastor found it a bit strange, but he didn't question anything further, and made his way over to the bed, and sat down. As he gazed around the room, Alastor happened to spot something on the floor. As he gazed closer, he recognized it was a bow tie that was similar to his. Reaching out and picking it up, he eyed it and questioned to himself why this was in your room. "Darling?" "Yes, Al?," you said behind the door. "I found a bow tie that is similar to mine in your room. Do you know why this is here?"
Panicking, you looked down and saw that the bow tie was no longer on your shirt. "Sh**!", you whispered to yourself, as you tried to come up with another lie to tell Alastor. "M-maybe you left it here by accident." you said, mad at yourself that you stuttered. "I would happen to remember losing something like this the last time I visited you." Alastor said, as he kept eyeing the bow tie, turning it around to eye it. You stood on the other side of the door, realizing that he didn't buy it. "T-hen umm-", you froze, stuck on what to say next. Alastor noticed your change in tone, getting up from the couch and making his way towards the bathroom door. "Darling~, is there something you are not telling me perhaps?", Alastor said, smirking to himself, as he stood in front of the bathroom door. "N-no.", you said, as you heard voice more clearly now. "Then why do I sense such nervousness in your voice?", he said, as he continued to stand in front of the door, inching closer to hear you. "I-I." Stuttering, you couldn't think of another thing to say as Alastor figured out you were acting odd. "Darling~, What are you hiding? Come on out.," Al sang behind the door, as his smile got wider, enjoying the situation you were in. "OKAY! ok. I'll come out, but could you back away from the door a bit and also close your eyes please?", you said, letting Al know you were ready to come out. Al raised an eyebrow that you wanted him to close his eyes, but he said nothing, as he walk backwards, and shut his eyes.
Opening the door, you saw Alastor standing in the middle of your room, hands folded behind his back, eyes shut, and his signature grin on his face. Standing a few feet from him, you told him to open his eyes, while you cast your eyes down to the ground. Alastor opened his eyes, and he was put back for a second as he saw you dressed to the nines in what look to be his clothes. Everything you were wearing was matching him, and the only thing that was missing was his mic staff and the bow tie, that he was holding in his hand. Looking up, you noticed Al's face was stunned, but he was still smiling. "Before you say anything, just know that I'm wearing this for cosplay reasons. I'm not a freak and these were custom-made for me, they are not from your room, I swear." you blabbed all of this out, twiddling with your fingers, and looking back down towards the floor. Silence filled the room, after you were done talking. You were afraid to look back at Al, as you were expecting to see radio dials in his eyes.
"HAHAHAHAHA! My my, how dapper you look, darling!” Alastor laughed out, along with his mic that started playing a laugh track. Looking back at him, you weren't expecting a reaction like this from him. "Y-your not upset?" you questioned Al, as you continued to twiddle your fingers. "Upset? Why no, darling! Is that why you were hiding from me? Cause you figured I would be upset?" said Alastor, as he tilted his head at you. "Well, I didn't want to disturb you if you saw me wearing your outfit." "Well, I must admit I was surprised, but I am not upset. But I do have to ask, why are you dressed up like me?", he said, as he approached you, red glowing eyes staring at you, and his award winning smile on his face. Sighing, you explained to Alastor that you really enjoyed his look and outfit, so you wanted to cosplay as him. Alastor smiled softly at you, and hooked his finger under your chin, raising your head to look at him. "You are quite adorable aren't you, my dear." he said, as he then let your chin go, and began tying the bow tie back onto you, finishing it quickly and taking a step back. "There we go, dear! All set! Now we just need a smile! Come on dear, smile!" Alastor said, as he leaned closer towards your face, smiling wide. Blushing, you looked away for a second before giving Al a smile as big as his. "Perfect! I must say you make a good me!” Alastor said, as he placed his hand on your head, giving it a rub. "Thanks Al." you said, as you blushed and looked down again. "Now, since you want to be like me, we could engage in some carnage in the city! Imagine, the radio demon and his doppelgänger causing mayhem to the denizens of the Pride ring! Quite a premise!" said Alastor, extending his hand out like he was giving a performance in a play. "Um, sorry, but no thanks. I know we are in hell and all, but I'm still not use to all the violence and carnage yet." You said, as you looked at Alastor shyly. "Aw, don't be such a wet blanket , my dear." Alastor said, as he looked at you again, still smiling, but his ears were dropped down, signifying that he was a little sad. "Sorry , Alastor. Maybe we could do something else instead, like head to a cafe or go to one of Mimzy's shows?", you said. "Hmmm. Fair enough." Alastor said, as his ears perked up after he heard you say that. Hooking your arm in his, he pulled you next to him, as he raised his fingers up, ready to use his powers to teleport: "Lets go, my dear! I feel like this is going to be very entertaining!”
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A Girl with No Name
A/N: This one shot POURED out of me. All because of this incredible art by @chu-cho Thank you for creating this masterpiece. Hope I can do your art justice.
Ok, let me set the scene. Euphoria, SKINS, and Degrassi procreated in the basement of Kappa Alpha. Keg to the right. A designer tray of substances to the left. The boys in the middle. And you…you crack the whi— what? Who said that?
CW: Frat AU, implied substance use, mature 18+, MDNI
‘Ain’t a pill that I didn’t take’
Lyrics that feel too familiar tread water between Suguru’s ears. They glide along his skin. Which feels like silk, by the way.
Silk.
Who ever made that is a Nobel laureate.
‘Cause Imma sleep when I R.I.P.’
Euphoria.
Who chose the lights?
They’re vivid. Swarming. Like the walls are a tile dance floor. Yeah. Light picker deserves a Nobel too.
“You are so fucked right now.” His best friend’s sharp ass voice dices his lucid thoughts to smithereens.
“Shut up, Satoru.” He’s not wrong.
“We took the same shit.” Suguru perches on the solo cup ridden kitchen island. Sitting is good.
“Plus, I’m bigger than you.”
“If you wanna compare dicks just say so.” Satoru sneers, he’s cockier when inebriated.
In any other instance when Suguru is of sound mind, Satoru would’ve caught a jab to the chest. But two reasons why that can’t happen.
One, he’s currently tripping balls.
Two, you just walked in.
Like you own the house.
Maneuvering your body around the active pong table. Slipping past the chatty women gawking in their direction. Gearing for attack. Shifty and nervous, but the vodka cranberry is courage elixir.
The boys have about 45 seconds to engage with said women or divert.
But you are currently leaning over the counter reaching for a shot glass well out of your zip code. A little red dress on. All curves, no brakes. With an ass that could make anyone believe in God.
Sorry, girls. Tonight, they are going to divert.
Suguru catches Satoru’s heady gaze. No words needed. They share instincts. The boys have been in stride since the day they met.
They saunter over to the counter you’re mounting. An easy reach for them both.
“Didn’t realize your name was on the lease, princess.”
Satoru plucks the double shot glass down from Mount Everest. Handing it over between two fingers.
Still propped up on the counter with one knee, you peer down at them both. Letting the white noise of utter disinhibition drape the space between you.
Suguru planned on softening Satoru’s blow, but then you smile.
Cavalier and gorgeous.
Like it’s a golden ticket into spaces you don’t belong in.
The answer to questions people don’t realize need asking.
The cure for everything.
And right now? It is. The cure.
Suguru stands stupefied as you brace yourself on his shoulders. Thank God his hands still know what to do. They snake around your tapered waist and pull you to solid ground.
Speak, dumbass.
“You didn’t? It’s in the fine print.” Your voice beats him to it. And is fucking dessert.
Bad for you. Horrible for you. But good in the way self-indulgence is.
You take your shot glass (really, anything in the house is yours if you want it). And steer away to the refrigerator.
Your absence jumpstarts Suguru’s out-of-commission brain.
“Excuse him, he was raised by monkeys. Can I help you find something?”
Suguru and Satoru reposition themselves behind you while you rummage. Bent over at the waist. Head nearly submerged in the pull out freezer.
Are you doing this on purpose?
Are you trying to be a cocktease?
Satoru isn’t even attempting to stop eye-fucking you.
Suguru pulls his tongue ring in and out of his teeth. Anything to stop ruminating on the melody of sounds that’ll fill the room when his hips slam into your ass repeatedly.
“There it is,” you stand back to your full height. Triumphant. Jack Daniels in hand.
Your eyes are pools of quicksand. Why else would Suguru’s mouth feel more stuck than his feet?
“You’re a whiskey, kind of girl?” Satoru smirks, amused at your vice choice.
Again, the boys follow your movements like two expertly trained German Shepards. Flanking you when you settle at the corner of the island. Meticulously over-pouring your first double shot.
“I’m a good time kind of girl.” The way your slender neck tilts back is immoral. Throating the dark liquid like water.
…what else can that throat handle?
“Okay, good time girl wh—“
“Listen.” You snip Satoru’s snide remark at its base. Leaving both of them silent. Watching. Waiting.
“Brad,” you pointedly look at Suguru.
“And Chad,” eyes dagger into Satoru.
“Thank you for the warm welcome but I’m not interested in talking.”
The back of your hand swipes against your full lips. And Suguru can’t seem to pull his eyes off of them.
Satoru, after a moment of stunned silence, lets out his laugh. The one that means you’ve won his undivided attention for the night.
“Close, but no cigar baby. Try again.” Satoru leans onto his forearms. Tilting his intoxicated gaze up at you.
“Right idea, though.” Suguru chimes in. Tongue finally deciding to work.
“Ahh, I hear you loud and clear.” You retort, golden-ticket smile back on your face.
Your nose wrinkles in feigned concentration and Suguru nearly passes out.
Are you really this hot? Or is he just that blasted?
“Preppy,” your hand cups Satoru’s face. And his Adam’s Apple bobs deeply.
Good, Satoru is feeling this as hard as he is.
“And Edgy.” Suguru gawks at the way your lips hang open after your snarky guess at his name leaves your mouth.
Satoru’s wolfish chuckle is what re-tethers Suguru to this dimension. How the fuck is he keeping up with you right now?
“No, no. I got it.” You pipe up.
Placing one hand over each of theirs. Suguru greedily intertwines his long fingers between your petite ones.
“Thunder.” You squeeze Suguru’s hand and his soul nearly leaks out of his dick.
“And Lightening.”
Cotton candy dusts Satoru’s nose to his ears when you look up at him. Suguru can see the vulgar scenarios on cinematic repeat in his best friend’s mind.
And it’s tame compared to the ways Suguru wants to disrespect you.
“We can work with that.” Suguru flashes a smile of his own. Purposefully keeping his tongue ring out of your view.
“And what can we call you?” Satoru probes. Zeroed in because no one else in the room exists.
Your hands return back to your side, and Suguru misses your warmth immediately.
“No name.”
Flippant. Lighthearted like what you said was normal.
“What was that?” Satoru spurts out. Saliva bubbling in his half open mouth.
You glide away from the kitchen. Into the den with bodies colliding. Walls thrumming. Lights strobing.
Delicate hands cup around your mouth. Turning back to face your new guard dogs.
“Not here to talk, boys!”
The three of you are interwined at the center of the crowded room in seconds.
But time is warped.
Because Suguru is traversing Death Zone altitude on the mountain. And Satoru is swimming at Abyssal Zone depth in the ocean.
You are the 8th cardinal sin.
You writhe and undulate your curves in and out of their grasp. Gripping onto Satoru’s neck, strumming his undercut when he’s facing you. Winding your hips against Suguru’s crotch when he’s behind you.
Suguru’s cock has never been this hard, he’s half worried it could snap in half. Hissing against your neck. Groaning behind your ear. So goddamn grateful for the music drowning out his desperation.
But his skin is on fire. He can feel every vessel pulsate.
You are not a want.
You are a need.
“Need you.” Suguru gruffs in your ear. Flickering up to Satoru, who is mirroring his hooded gaze.
Suguru watches your pretty hand trail down Satoru’s chest. Satoru rolls his bottom lip under his teeth. Apt nickname you chose for him, because there are lightening bolts in his eyes.
“Take me upstairs,” you whisper back, tilting up to capture Suguru in your web.
And he is so captured. So entangled.
The boys lead you to Suguru’s bedroom in the frat house. Even though the walk felt like miles, exactly no time passes when you three close the door behind you.
Suguru’s lips magnet to yours. Insatiable in the way he sucks and pulls on your lips. Tongue tasting every corner of your sweet mouth.
Satoru drops his head to the crook of your neck. Sucking bruises. Tracing his large grasp up and underneath your dress. No time or room for manners with how his cock is tenting against its weak restraints.
“So eager, boys.” You giggle in between their hungry kisses.
And you’re right.
It’s embarrassing, their display right now.
But neither one of them have the capacity to stop.
And hold it together.
And lead. Like they both are used to.
“Sorry,” Satoru grunts into the feminine slope of your neck. You let out an airy laugh when he starts to dry hump you. Tickling both of their incapable brains.
You know Satoru is so far gone.
And Suguru is trying to hold on to some semblance of dignity but his cock simply won’t let him. Not the way it’s drenching his sweats with need.
“Take these off.” Melodic instructions fill Satoru and Suguru’s ears the minute you pull away from Suguru’s kiss. Your index finger hooked on both hems.
As if your voice is a Pavlovian trigger, the boys step out of their pants and boxers.
Rock hard. Desperate. Leaking.
Your personal drones.
Suguru can’t swallow the whimper that collides with Satoru’s whine when your hands drop to stroke both of them at the same time. Flickering your eyes between your two toys. Proud of the way their cocks are twitching and pumping beads of precum into your hands.
“God, pretty girl.”
“Fuck, princess.”
Satoru and Suguru are dizzy with heat.
Just in time for you to drop to your knees. Dragging your closed, lipsticked lips along Suguru’s up curve.
“Please,” Suguru whispers.
You’re evil.
And you ignore him. Dragging your soft, warm hand up the length of his shaft. Interjecting butterfly kisses in between. Working Satoru’s length in your other hand.
Drawing punched out moans from the boys. Chests heaving. Clipped breaths. Pitiful.
“On your knees, Lightning.” You beckon Satoru, while teasing his counterpart.
Satoru doesn’t hesitate for a second. He couldn’t if he wanted to. Propped on his knees, he stares into the side of your face. Awaiting further instruction.
“Kiss me,” you demand, circling your lips around Suguru’s sensitive tip for the first time. Evoking a loud hiss.
Satoru’s eyes widen. Your words startle the breath out of him.
The lights are dim but Suguru doesn’t miss the blossoming cherry red flush. Spreading along his toned shoulders.
Your wet lips dragging along his swollen cockhead pulls Suguru’s eyes away from his celestial best friend.
“Mmmgh f..fuck baby,” Suguru chokes out at your slow, mean ministrations.
“Don’t be shy, Lightening.” Your tongue tickles his lead pipe with every spoken word around his girth.
Suguru’s eyes fall to your hand. Now working its way up Satoru’s length. His core involuntarily curls into your sudden touch. Gossamer thin whine tumbling out of his lips. Suguru catches the way Satoru digs his fingernails into his milky skin.
And his cock twitches against your lips at the sight.
“Kiss me,” You beckon Satoru again, dragging your tongue up Suguru’s length.
“I—I…“ Satoru stammers. Hips stuttering against your fist. Static fills Suguru’s head.
He’s never seen him this docile. This pliant. It’s a mind fuck.
No, no.
The way Satoru pulls his eyes up to meet his gaze in that moment is a mind fuck.
Is he hallucinating?
It’s like Suguru is seeing Satoru for the first time.
Instead of being side by side, he’s across the street. Catching a glimpse of a God. Walking amongst men.
Satoru’s expression has earned permanence in his brain. Snowy halo of hair. Long, palatial lashes fanning the Aegean Sea in his eyes. A mosaic of lust, desire, a little shame.
Seeking permission.
Seeking approval.
He is otherworldly.
Vulnerable and soft. On his knees. Needy. It makes Suguru want to ram his cock past those pouty, swollen lips.
But..but that’s wrong. Right?
They’re best friends. Fucking soulmates. They don’t..they don’t do that.
But the way he’s pouting.
God.
Glassy eyed and helplessly turned on. Rutting his hips into your hand.
Fuck.
“Fuck,” Suguru mutters. A surge of his arousal landing on your tongue. Eliciting a breathy giggle in response.
Followed by an out of body experience for the next few minutes.
Suguru’s hand wires into Satoru’s cloud soft locks. Gentle grasp between the slender webspaces.
“So pretty.” He rasps through the nails in his throat.
Satoru’s pupils blow out at the praise. All but purring into his touch. Suguru barely applies any force and Satoru crashes his lips onto yours with Suguru’s thick head in between.
Filthy.
Nasty dirty vulgar sounds fill the room. Suguru’s constant stream of precum dripping onto your tongue, Satoru’s tongue. Raining down on your puffy, full tits.
You two exploring each other’s lips.
Satoru’s angry length, squelching against your hand.
It’s too much. It’s too fucking much.
“Such a good boy.”
Your dulcet voice is a tornado decimating Suguru’s brain. He has to blink a few times to realize that the praise wasn’t meant for him.
It was directed at Satoru.
Who is desperately — eagerly — throating Suguru’s dick. Nose flaring. Diamond tears rolling down his blushing cheeks. Unintelligible garbles dribbling out the corners of his mouth.
“Sa—Satoru, mmgh, god shit, shit.” Suguru’s hips take a cruel pace down his Person’s throat.
“Mmm, Satoru.” You murmur into his ear. Tasting your new discovery.
“Look how much Thunder likes fucking that mouth of yours.”
Satoru’s tears splash against Suguru’s sex. But he opens his throat anyway. Swallowing his rod. Filthy bulge in the column of his throat.
“Ahh, god..baby..” Suguru huffs when your devilish little hands tug at a palm full of his hair.
When did you get next to him?
Doesn’t matter.
Yet another natural disaster destroys Suguru’s brain when you push your tongue back into his mouth. While he violates Satoru’s mouth.
The wire in Suguru’s stomach coils. Lava surges through every vessel in his body. Groin welling with a deep, carnal pressure. Everything feels too fucking good.
“Fuck, oh god fuck. I’m I—g—“
“Cum for me, baby.”
You kiss your hushed command into Suguru’s mouth. His hips come to a screeching halt. Both hands down in Satoru’s hair, grazing along his undercut.
Suguru tilts his chin to the ceiling. Thick loose mane tickling his mid back. Vision completely dark. He has no idea if he’s still in Satoru’s mouth. Or where his cum is landing. All he knows is death by pleasure right now.
You press your moist lips into Suguru’s neck.
“You’re so beautiful like this.” Sweet words reverberate against Suguru’s skin.
His head slowly comes back to earth. And just as his eyes pull back open — a shudder and blinding light assaults his vision. Up close.
“Woah, what the hell?”
Suguru is met with a Polaroid camera. Printing evidence of his nirvana. His brows crawl together defensively.
“What do you—“
“Relax, thunder.” You coo with that smile that’s decadent, beautiful poison.
You step over a dazed Satoru. Still on his knees. Lazily stroking up his neglected hard cock.
Suguru’s eyes track you to his bed. You place the developing film on the nightstand.
“These are for your eyes only.”
“I don’t mind.” Satoru huffs. Rising to his feet. Deep within your trance. You could’ve asked him to cut off an arm and he’d offer you both.
Satoru would follow you into Hell if you demanded it.
Suguru would too.
“Boys, come.” You curl your finger at them. And pairs of feet move.
“Thunder, why don’t you put that tongue ring to good use. While I take care of pretty little Satoru.”
His name on your lips snaps something buried in his soul. Satoru steps to the head of the bed. Leaning against the wall. Cock heavy with his seed. A string of arousal hanging low from his tip.
You make a dramatic show to catch Satoru’s leaking string of cum before it wastes on Suguru’s sheets.
“You’re fucking filthy, princess.” Satoru hisses. He can’t remember the last time he’s blinked the whole night.
You smile around his bulbous tip, then pull him into your warm heat in one go.
And fuck, Satoru can feel you sucking through to his throat.
His whimpers sound so pathetic in his ears. But he is so lust-drunk he couldn’t care less.
One look down and he sees his best friend whining underneath your precious cunt. As you circle your hips around Suguru’s metal-clad tongue. Taking your pleasure directly from his mouth.
Suguru’s half hard sex pulsates against his perfectly toned abs. Satoru has to look away. His orgasm threatening to come too soon.
“Mmmnggh, so good with your tongue, Thunder.” You gurgle around Satoru’s length.
Arousal flavored saliva driveling down your chin. The sensation drives Satoru to piston his hips until his tip abuses the limit of your dainty throat.
You shouldn’t have any space to breathe, much less talk.
“Pl-please. Suguru. Name’s Suguru.”
“Say his name baby.” Satoru’s order is low. Raptorial. Hips bucking wildly into your mouth. Heat crashing into his groin.
He’s so close. He’s—
“S-Suguru.”
And Satoru dives off your cliff edge. Hearing his Person’s name tumble out of your mouth and around his cock snapped his self-control in half.
Ropes off thick, warm heat spill out the side of your mouth. Staining your bunched up dress, the sheets and everything in between.
“S-so close,” you huff, humping Suguru’s tongue more aggressively.
A familiar camera shudder and solar bright light fans your outstretched neck. Capturing your cum-stained ascension.
You flash Satoru a knowing smirk. Another beam of light aimed in his face before he tosses your camera off to the side.
Satoru crashes his lips into yours. Eager to taste himself off your mouth.
Your bodies move in perfect tandem. Satoru kisses your peak from your lips while Suguru coaxes your wet orgasm onto his tongue. Your high drenches Suguru and the sheets around him.
The three of you piece yourselves together. Completely plaited within each other’s warm, moist limbs. Basking in the serotonin showers misting you three in post-coital bliss.
No one remembers, but you wish each other sweet dreams before the fog settles. And the night re-claims you to sleep.
——
Sunlight is downright offensive.
Suguru forces his heavy lids open.
7: 43 AM
Fucking, hell.
A freight train is currently doing laps in Suguru’s mind. He flickers around the room. Haphazard clothes. Strewn socks. Satoru in Suguru’s 06 hockey jersey. Long limbs nearly dangling off the other side of his bed.
Suguru glances down, somehow dressed only in Satoru’s black sweats
There’s a tiny sliver of space between their sodden bodies. Where you must’ve slept.
Right.
You.
Heaven’s fallen angel.
You used to be God’s favorite. No way you still are.
Not with how fucking sinful you looked in that red dress.
Snapping polaroids.
Taking their souls for play.
Then having the audacity to leave them on the nightstand when you were through.
Suguru met The Devil last night.
And she was…exquisite.
“Fuck, my head.” Satoru groans, rolling over to face his dark-haired soulmate.
Suguru watches his eyes flutter open. And something within him catches.
How has he not noticed how beautiful this boy is before?
“Here,” A glass of ice water, still sweating from condensation is waiting on Suguru’s nightstand. He takes a long sip before passing the lifeblood to Satoru.
Satoru briefly meets Suguru’s gaze. Before averting, pretty mulberry blush flooding his face.
“Was last night…real?” Satoru asks after an extended sip.
Suguru meets his question with silence. Preoccupied with picture proof.
Three polaroids neatly arranged on the nightstand.
The first one is of Suguru. Hair moused, framing his intoxicated gaze. Remnants of his orgasm oozing from the still shot. Lips puffy and abused. Cheeks flushed. Suguru can barely recognize the man in the photo.
His eyes dance to the cursive label at the bottom:
Thunder
Alias: “Suguru”
A wry chuckle escapes his lips. He passes his photo to Satoru.
The next polaroid is of his Person. Post orgasm haze heavy in his eyes. He managed to get his 10,000-kilowatt smile perfectly in the selfie. Also flushed. Also completely debauched. The blue in his eyes reflected nearly translucent.
He’s a fucking masterpiece, that boy.
Suguru knows what to expect at the bottom of Satoru’s polaroid:
Lightening
Alias: “Satoru”
“Shit man, these are amazing.” Satoru murmurs, intently studying Suguru’s polaroid. Absentmindedly accepting his.
“They are.” Suguru agrees, unknowingly holding his breath while pulling your polaroid into view.
And of course.
It’s blurry.
The only thing in focus is your graceful, arched neck, specks of Satoru’s finish glistening on your skin. Merlot red dress, pulled far below your breasts. Only thing pictured is the apex of your cleavage. Leaving Suguru’s mind to spiral into lucid memory of the rest of your silhouette.
“Who…was that?” Satoru muses. Eyes now on the ceiling. Undoubtedly having the exact same swarm of flashbacks flood his mind.
Suguru rolls your Polaroid between his index and long finger. The bottom of the photo reading:
No Name
A lazy smile tugs on the corner of his lips.
You are something else.
Supernatural, almost.
“She’s a girl with no name.”
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THIS IS AN MLM BLOG. WOMEN PLS DNI.
“Eyes on the mirror, puppy.”
Dom!Lucifer x shy m!reader
CW: NSFW, amab reader, praise, use of “puppy”, katoptronophilia, begging, handjob recieving, collaring, spit as lube
a/n: omg i wrote this at 2 in the morning
You hated eye contact, but since you started dating the one and only Lucifer, he’d force eye contact almost all the time! Not only that, but when he would openly praise you in public, you could feel your cheeks burn.
Now this wasn’t your first time having intimacy with Lucifer, but this seemed a bit…erotic.
It started with you coming into his room to visit, setting some coffee on his desk with a small smile. He’d been working on things for quite a bit and you figured he deserved a break.
“Ah, thank you.” Lucifer said, taking a sip of the bitter tasting coffee—too bitter for your taste anyway. “You’re welcome,” you smiled. “You should take a break.” Lucifer set down the cup and turned his head towards you, his eyebrows raised.
“Oh?”
Such a simple word, yet it had such an effect…You cleared your throat and looked to the side for a split second before locking eyes with him. You mumbled awkwardly, “Well, you’ve been…um, in here for a while so..y’know.” He listened and nodded, standing up from his chair and now at his full height. You had to tilt your head up to see his face and it was a bit embarrassing to say the least. Lucifer’s hand met with your chin and he bent down a bit to give you a tender kiss. His lips were as soft as ever and you closed your eyes happily. He pulled away and brought you closer, your bodies touching one another. Your cheeks tinted red and you looked down at the floor. This didn’t go unnoticed by him and he gently brought your head up more. “Look at me, c’mon. We really need to work on that eye contact.” Lucifer teased. Your eyes darted back and forth from random things in the room and him before you hummed in agreement. His other hand went to yours and his fingers interlocked with yours.
He said smoothly, “I think we should work on that now, don’t you?” You tilted your head in slight confusion before he gave you a command. “Sit down.”
“Huh?” You questioned, “Like…in front of you?”
Lucifer nodded, smirking as you slowly kneeled before fully sitting on your knees. “Now look at me.” It took you a few moments before you actually did it, your eyes setting onto his. “That’s it, good puppy.” He praised and patted your head, to which your face flushed red. Chuckling, he told you to stay right there as he shuffled through his closet before pulling out a silver lined mirror. It looked pretty refined and you admired the design while he placed it in front of you. “What’s this for?”
“You’ll see.” said Lucifer. He positioned himself behind you and you watched him in the mirror. his hands reached to your neck and a black collar was locked around your neck. Your head snapped back to Lucifer, but he moved your head to face the mirror again. The collar was like that of a dogs, except it had a small lock in the middle. “U-umm..Lucifer?” Your voice trembled slightly as you spoke. “Just keep your eyes on the mirror my love.”
You said nothing and looked at him in the mirror, he seemed to be enjoying himself already. “Good boy..so obedient aren’t you?” He said, admiring how your face went red. His hands went under your shirt and you felt his cold fingers circle on your nipples. You flinched a little at his actions, but the sensitive buds hardened under his touch. Lucifer pinched one of them and your breath hitched while your eyes closed. He licked the shell of your ear and whispered in it, “What did i say, puppy? Eyes on the mirror.” Again, your eyes slowly opened and your gazed fixed on the mirror. Your breathing went shallow and you felt your cock start hardening against your pants. A small whine of both embarrassment and pleasure left your lips. His fingers left your sensitive nipples and trailed down, stopping at the zipper of your pants. “May I?” he asked, you nodded in consent. Lucifer whispered in your ear again while looking at you in the mirror. “Mm-mm. Use your words.”
You cursed in your head and muttered aloud, “I want it, please.” Your eyes flickered away from the mirror for a second before you remembered you weren’t allowed to do that. “Atta boy.”
His fingers fumbled with your zipper before getting it undone, also unbuttoning them. His hand reached to take out your half-hard cock, and then pryed open your mouth, deciding to use your saliva as lube for now. Lucifer’s hand went at a slow pace as he stroked it to a full erection. Your head fell back slightly in pleasure as you let out a shaky breath, then focusing your gaze back in the mirror. Your shaft now glistened with precum, the collar’s lock shining in the light and Lucifer’s smirk. He nibbled your earlobe, “It seems your enjoying this yes? I didn’t know my sweet boy would be a bit of a pervert..” He teased. To your mortification, his teasing comment only made you more needy. His hand moved now at a faster pace and you began to softly moan. You wanted to cover your mouth, but you knew he wouldn’t allow that. So like the obedient puppy you were, you kept your hands at your sides slightly clenched. “Ah—fuck..” you moaned, biting your lip. Lucifer started to whisper into your ear, his thumb rubbing your tip. “I have more ideas…this is just the beginning.” He started, “I wanna see your eyes roll back…your hands tied up. I want everybody to know how good I’m making you feel.”
Your legs began to shake a little, your ears tinting a pink color. His hand stroked your cock faster as he whispered these things into your ear, making you visualize everything he wanted to do to you.
“I’m going to tug you on a leash, you’d like that wouldn’t you? How about I make you call me master..”
Your eyes glaze over, looking at the way he plays with you in the mirror. Those small whines of yours began to gradually get louder, your body being forced in place by Lucifer’s to keep you from squirming. He noticed you trying to keep still. “Are you close, puppy? Let it out, sweetheart…”
With another change of pace, and the pressing of his thumb, you came hard. He stroked you throughout your high. This time, he said nothing as your eyes fluttered shut. However when you opened them, you saw him licking his fingers clean.
“How about we get started with the other things I mentioned, yes?”
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