#‘my heart calls your name’ has been echoing in my mind non stop | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sukirichi · 4 years ago

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— out of reach | gojo x reader

request: Girllllll I just read your jealous gojo fic and my heart went 📈📈📈📈💥💥💥 youre now one of my fav writers 🙏🧎‍♀️And the spicy parts 😫😫😫 💖 If your asks are still open, could I please request a fic where GOJO has a size kink 🥺🥺🥺 my 5’1 ass is obsessed with that shizzzz

pov: you’re gojo’s childhood friend and roommate – which leads to utter chaos – or perhaps utter bliss?

warnings: size kink, lots of teasing, lots of cursing, dirty talk, choking (probably not in the way you think), body worship, lots of size difference scenes, slight manhandling, overstimulation, thigh fucking, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (don’t do this irl guys) + unedited fic :D

notes: idk what happened here LMAOOO but i loved writing this one because i’m short as hell too lol. thanks for this request anon, i hope you like it! <3

word count: 10.5k

masterlist !

If you’re going to be honest, having Gojo as a roommate is something completely unexpected.

Not only are you two from entirely different worlds – him as a jujutsu sorcerer and you as an average human who can’t see curses – but he’s also just someone who is entirely out of your league. He’s respected and looked up to in his field of work, while half of your co-workers don’t even know your name, much less notice you in function parties where you mostly just nibble on sushi before calling it a day and turning back home.

You and Gojo met in elementary school. You could tell from the way he’s surrounded by servants and stern looking adults, firm hands on his small shoulders, that he was different from everyone else.

Apparently, he comes from one of the three big clans in the jujutsu world or whatever. You honestly don’t care about any of that, because Gojo refuses to act maturely about his role in the clan. You still remember how quiet he was on the first day of school, never smiling and keeping to himself despite your persuasion to eat lunch with him or play with him after school in the courtyard.

You miss that Gojo Satoru – the quiet, serious kid who was far too gentle in his actions yet firm in his words and beliefs. When you were still a little girl, you admired how he seemed older than his age, a wistful look in those azure blue eyes of his that you’ve always loved.

To you, Gojo Satoru was your hero. You’ve always been one of the shortest kids in class, and it didn’t help that you really loved pigtails all the way until middle school that made you an easy target from immature people who’s being hit way too fast by puberty and growing each passing day. You never minded your short stature because really, it’s just height, but you couldn’t ignore how your confidence dwindled each day when they called you several array of nicknames.

Too shy to fight back, you’d laugh it off or force a smile.

Gojo wasn’t having any of it. He’d break his silence and immediately pull you to his side (which only made things worse because Gojo was one of the tallest kids in class, further emphasizing how small you are right next to him) before threatening to smack the kids right in the face.

The threat should be enough to land him detention, but because he’s Gojo Satoru, the golden kid everyone loved, they took his word seriously.

At the age of eleven, you started seeing your best friend as your knight in shining armour. Gojo basked in this, growing protective and always glaring at whoever snickered when you walked past them. Sometimes he even bared his teeth to hiss at them, which was honestly so ridiculous now that you think about, though the message – the threat – always came across loud and clear.

So yeah, you love Gojo, you still do.

Years flew by and the two of you grew apart due to work and also as a part of growing up. You still kept in contact, messaging each other once a month to ask the other how they’re doing. His work kept him extremely busy though, and Gojo didn’t want you involved in the dangers of what he’s doing, so he makes sure to keep a safe distance.

Until six months ago, you hear a banging on your door. You’re just about ready to throw hands because your former roommate moved out to live with her stoner boyfriend, leaving you to shoulder all the bills and responsibilities of maintaining a two man apartment.

A sneer forms on your lips as you swing the door open, a scowl already on your face. You assumed it was your roommate who returned to get the pair of lace panties they left in their room, but instead, your childhood friend stands before you, taller (seriously, how has he not stopped growing?) and definitely a lot hotter than the last time you saw him.

One thing leads to another, and now it feels like there was never such distance between the two of you with how easily you both fell back into a comfortable – yet chaotic – rhythm and routine of being each other’s roommate.

Not that you mind, of course. Gojo’s definitely changed a lot from when you were kids. He’s no longer that stiff or sensitive when it comes to others. In fact, it seems like he loosens up a lot more with age, because you can barely recognize the man living under the same roof with you now.

For one thing, Gojo is loud. Like really talkative, won’t shut the fuck up and speaks like he’s in a screaming contest with someone. It doesn’t matter if you’re taking an important phone call or sleepwalking at three in the morning to pee, Gojo is always creating some sort of ruckus.

You’d never admit it out loud, but you loved it. You love him.

He’s definitely a lot more enthusiastic and fun to be with now that both of you have grown up, or in Gojo’s case, simply aged. His maturity reversed backwards because it feels like you’re taking care of a little kid.

Not only does his body clock is practically non-existent, he’s also horrible when it comes to taking care of himself and being punctual with work.

Fortunately for him, you love him, and you both leave for work at the same time. You always wake up earlier to prepare breakfast so you’d both have energy to start the day – although you highly doubt there’s really anything that depletes his endless source of one.

Sleepily walking through the kitchen with your fist rubbing at your eyes, you rummage through the refrigerator for some eggs when you realize there’s none.

Huh, you think to yourself, scratching your scalp. You’re sure that Gojo went grocery shopping last week since it’s his chore to do the outside stuff like buying groceries and throwing thrash, so where did it go?

You open shelf by shelf, checking each corner and shoving cans aside to look for the tray. With a glare, you stand on your tiptoes to pull the pantry open, only to have your mouth fall aghast because it’s all there – right at the back where you can’t reach it!

Fucking Satoru, you grit your teeth while heaving your body up onto the counter. It’s a struggle because not only are your muscles still half asleep, but because the shelf is right in your face, and if you’re not careful enough, you could hit it right with your face and fall over. Of fucking course you know Satoru did this to make fun of you – and now you retract your statement over your best friend.

It’s all a lie.

He’s a pain in the ass. Why do you even bother cooking for him and letting him live literally just a room away when you know he won’t stop pulling shit like this?

Because, the nagging voice in your head tries to mock, he’s your best friend and you can’t really say no to him. This makes you huff as you carefully pull the tray towards you, hooking two fingers at the edge while your other palm grips at the end of the counter for support. No thanks to your short limbs, you’re practically hogging the shelf by now in an attempt to reach it. You look ridiculous, that’s for sure, and you make a mental note to keep Satoru’s windows open tonight so he freezes to death –

“Aw, cupcake,” a sing-song voice emerges from the other side of the room. “You look so adorable. You should’ve woke me up if you need my help.”

“Fuck off, Satoru,” you flip him off. The man only laughs, the rambunctious sound echoing off the walls. It’s way too early in the morning and he’s already so damn loud; something builds up at the back of your head out of frustration already. His grin only gets wider when you finally got the eggs and clutch it your chest, setting it down on the counter while wiping your sweat away from your face. “Freeloader,” you mutter under your breath, ignoring him when he happily skips over to you.

“Ouch,” he places a palm over his chest, although you both know he’s never really affected by anything. “So what’s for breakfast today? You?”

“You know, I can kick you out anytime I want. I’m being extremely nice even going as far to cook you breakfast before you leave for work, so don’t test my patience.”

“Exactly, my best friend is so kind,” Satoru grows the audacity to rest his arm on your head. This triggers a reflexive response from you; shoulders tensing up and hands curling into fists beside you. “I would totally date her if she wasn’t such a temperamental little devil,” you nearly stab him with a fork with his statement, which he thinks he’s being so sly for but you heard it, and you’re most definitely not pleased with it. “Okay, I’m kidding! I’m going to go shower now!”

You roll your eyes at him and heat the pan over with some oil, muttering under your breath that you’re really going to kick him out soon. As if things couldn’t get worse – as if Satoru couldn’t get any worse – he smacks your backside in the process before darting to the showers.

“Gojo Satoru!”

“Morning, best friend, love ya!”

You were right. He is a pain in the ass.

“You don’t always have to walk me to work.”

“I know.”

“So why’re you still here? I’m not a little kid anymore,” Contrary to your words, you stick closer to Satoru when the morning rush of workers and students begin to crowd the streets. Your best friend notices this with a small smile, his hand resting on the small of your back. “Don’t even try, Satoru.”

“I wasn’t saying anything.”

“I know that look on your face,” you fiddle with the buttons of your uniform, sighing when Satoru follows you inside the bus after tapping your phone for two seats. It’s not a surprise to you anymore that most of your expenses are spent by him, for him, and he lazily sprawls his long limbs across the seat before you pulling you down right next to him.

As much as you hate this man, especially because he smirks at the attention he’s receiving from women – even men – in the bus, you have to admit he’s warm and smells damn good. You bite the inside of your cheeks, looking around in slight self-consciousness before inching a little closer, just to feel his warmth. He’s comforting – irrationally so – so you set your bag between the both of you to keep your sanity. “If you keep doing this, Principal Yaga might fire your ass because you’re never on time.”

“Trust me, cupcake, he won’t. I’m too valuable for that.”

How you saw that coming – you can’t tell anymore. The bus ride is relatively quiet and eventless, with you dozing off every now and then because you’re never a morning person. Thankfully, Satoru is more respectful this time around, lolling your head until it drops to his shoulder. After that, he snakes his arm around your waist before resting it on your thigh as a way to say you don’t have to head bang every damn second and just sleep.

On any other occasion, you would’ve hated it. You always look so small whenever you’re in Satoru’s presence. It doesn’t help that he’s long and lanky, either, his slender fingers effortlessly caressing your thigh while almost your entire body is flushed next to him. But right now, he’s too warm, too soft, and you’re too tired that for just a little bit, you allow yourself to relax.

A beeping wakes you up a moment later. Opening your eyes, you push yourself off Satoru when you see an old lady reaching for the handles. No one gave up their seats for her even as the bus driver asked her to find a seat lest she’d fall.

“Grandma, here, take my seat—” You’re about to stand up and offer it to her when Satoru tugs you by the wrist. Because of your small, wobbly composure, pulling you to him takes little to no effort. You end up on his lap, sitting on him as if you’re nothing but a small, dainty schoolbag. Satoru is clearly enjoying this because you feel him breathily laugh on the back of your neck, charming – annoyingly so – as he gestures to the now empty spot beside him.

“It’s no worries, Grandma. She’ll be fine,” he gestures to you, patting your head like you’re some puppy. “Please, take a seat. The bus is already moving.”

“Satoru, get off me,” You wriggle yourself from his hold, which only ends up in wasted effort because this big oaf doesn’t even budge. He even bounces you on one of his thighs, and you dig your nails into his arms as a silent plead for him to stop. He ignores this, ignores your small whines and the apparent embarrassment that has you debating whether to punch him or hide yourself in the safety of his uniform.

“She’s a feisty little one, isn’t she?”

The old lady watches the two of you banter, giggling behind her wrinkled hands. “You’re an adorable couple.”

“I think so too!”

“You’re so going to pay for this, Satoru,” you grumble, face planted onto your palms. This is it – the worst day of your life. It’s even worse because despite your protests, you have to admit his lap is actually comfortable. You’ve already known this before after countless times of cuddling with Satoru during movie nights, but its different when you’re both out in public. It feels...oddly intimate and maybe even romantic when he rubs soothing circles at your back, almost as if apologizing for this event. Most of all, you just hate the way something pools beneath your stomach at having him so close to you like this. “This is so embarrassing. I’m practically crushing you with my weight.”

“Please, cupcake, you barely weigh anything. I could easily lift you off with just my finger,” when you elbow him in the chest, Satoru only laughs, raising both hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I’ll stop teasing.”

You give up. No one seems to be paying much attention to any of you anyway, so you sigh, letting yourself hide in the crook of his neck as you watch the city pass through the windows. Your body moves as his chest rises and falls from his breathing, the movement oddly comforting. It’s embarrassing – it really is – but at least the grandma was comfortable until Satoru drops you off near your building.

“You don’t have to walk me all the way there.”

“Why not? You don’t want people to see us together or something?”

“No,” you stare at him from the corner of your eye. It’s no secret Satoru is attractive. This bastard knows it too, judging from the way he confidently and arrogantly swaggers next to you, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he walked with no care in the world. “My co-workers keep asking me for your number every time I tell them we’re not dating. It’s getting annoying at this point how they go Satoru this and Satoru that.”

“Am I hearing it right? Is cupcake jealous?”

“I’m not jealous, I’m disgusted,” you correct, “They don’t know how much of a pain you are to have around. They’re so focused with your looks that they completely overlook the fact you can’t even wash your dirty underwear!”

Satoru frowns at this, pointing his finger to you as if you’ve accused him of a huge crime. “Hey, I wash my underwear.”

“Yeah and last time you did, you mixed it with whites! My work uniform turned a stupid shade of blue! Now I can’t picture the colour of your boxers out of my head and it’s giving me a headache!”

“Wow, Y/N,” the smirk on his face and the sudden drop of nicknames lets you know you’ve said something wrong. Even behind his blindfold, you could tell his eyes are just sparkling with amusement. He’s enjoying this way too much. “I never thought you’d ever picture my boxers. I mean, I don’t mind showing it to you if you ask nicely—”

“Ugh, you’re so hopeless. I’m going to work.”

Gojo laughs when you jog away from him. He catches up with you in a matter of seconds, only having to take a few steps forward before he’s right beside you again. You’re unsure if you should be annoyed it’s so easy for him to always be right next to you, and how he almost always is right next to you while you prefer running away. It muddles with your heart and mind so much you pinch the bridge of your nose, trying not to be swayed by the sickeningly sweet sound of his laughter. “I can’t pick you up later, okay? I might work overtime!” (that’s a lie since Gojo prefers shopping and sightseeing)

Both of you know that’s a lie. Gojo never works overtime. He’s going to work for a few hours and so and call playing around with his students as “on-hand learning” before he goes shopping for stupid souvenirs and wild-flavoured mochis, then end his day by sightseeing and coming back home.

“Wasn’t expecting you to,” you mumble, waving goodbye to him as the office doors close. Slowly, Satoru’s grin and enthusiastic farewell fades into view until nothing but the pale, silver walls of your office greets you.

Funny how you claim to hate this man so much, yet the moment he’s out of sight, everything becomes dull and pointless.

It’s an absolutely shitty day. Your equally shitty boss blames you for something you didn’t even do, all because his incompetent secretary – who you’re sure he’s sleeping with – lost this month’s report and claimed she handed it to you last week when you’re not involved in that kind of work. Logic doesn’t come by them because your boss publicly humiliates and scolds you, calling you all kinds of names until tears are streaming down your face.

You slam the door shut the moment you get home, kicking your shoes off as you head straight to your room. You don’t bother taking your makeup off anymore as you change into a loose shirt and floral cotton shirts, padding to the kitchen after seeing Satoru is well nestled into the couch.

At least someone’s had a good day.

Seeing as the sink is empty, he probably hasn’t eaten dinner. This makes you sigh, because when will he ever learn to look after himself? He’s literally like a child.

Satoru pauses whatever he’s watching before he hovers over you, head tilted to the side as he gazes at you with curiosity. You ignore him and begin to set down some bowls and chopsticks for dinner, all the while Satoru is studying every inch of your tightly pulled face. “Bad day?” he concludes.

“Hmm.”

“Bad day it is then,” he nods to himself. “I can cook dinner, if you want.”

“And have you burn my apartment? No thanks,” you scoff, pushing him aside to retrieve the pans when you see that he’s placed them above again, even after you’ve reminded countless times to just leave it near the holders in the sink. “Ugh, why do you keep putting the pans in this shelf? You know I can’t reach this. I’ve had enough with you pulling pranks on me, and don’t think I’ve forgotten you placed my shampoo above the shower head today, you idiot,” you snarl and hop over the counter again to get the pans, trying your best to fight back the tears that are threatening to fall. “You’re really bothersome, you know that?”

“Then why don’t you kick me out?” he challenges, completely oblivious to how you’re struggling – both physically and emotionally. “You always complain about me being a nuisance here, but you’re not really doing anything to keep me out.”

“Because where else would you go?”

“Technically, I have a room back at the Institute.”

“Yeah, but because you’re so stupid and reckless that you got kicked out of your own home,” you spat out, and you watch as Satoru raises a brow at your statement. Banter is common between the both of you, but something about the intensity of your gaze lets him know you’re serious this time around. “I don’t even know how Yuuji puts up with you. That poor Megumi is right when he says you’re insufferable. You’re good for nothing!”

Satoru scoffs, “Fine, if you hate me that much, why didn’t you just say so earlier? I could easily pack my bags and go since I’m just making everything harder—” Satoru doesn’t get to finish what he’s saying when your hand over the counter that acts as support slips under you, and you fall, legs bent awkwardly while you scream, preparing yourself for the impact. The pan is long forgotten, your only thought was oh my god, so this is how I die.

But it never came, and you keep your eyes shut tight even as warm hands cup your ass. Satoru is breathing hard under you. Finally gaining the courage to crack an eye open, your breath halts when you see that he’s sitting on the floor, with you safely nestled between him.

Satoru has always had pretty eyes, but it’s rare he takes off his blindfold off even when he’s home. This is one of those rare occurrences that he seems like a normal human, dressed in a gray sweatshirt that hands low from his collarbones and magnetic blue eyes staring right back at you. His touch is gentle, almost as if he’s afraid to hurt you, and his voice that is usually loud and teasing comes out breathy and hesitant.

“Are you okay?”

Your gaze drops down to his lips. He’s close, so close, that if you just lean a little closer you could – you snap out of your daze. “Get off me.”

“Cupcake, you’re the one who’s on top of me,” his voice falls an octave lower, eyes flitting down to your clothing – or rather the lack of it – before Satoru takes a deep breath. “Did you really have to wear that?”

“I have the right to wear whatever I want in the comfort of my own home.”

“I wasn’t complaining,” he raised a brow, this time completely in control of himself as he gazes back up at you with a burning gaze. You see nothing but the way one corner of his lips tilt up, almost teasing, and he looks so much like a shit-eater that you feel heat crawl down your spine.

You push yourself off him but your bent foot behind you slips, and you fall forward with your hands clutching his strong shoulders. Satoru catches your leg behind you, drags it forward until your knee is pressed in between one of your warmth, very much still enjoying the way you wriggle away from his hold. He knows his effect on you – but you deny this wholeheartedly.

“Careful, cupcake. This isn’t a slip and slide.”

“I hate you so much,” you bare your teeth at him, slapping his chest until he finally lets go of you. Turning your back to him, you pick up the pan and begin preparing your dinner, muttering curses under your breath as you heat up the stove. “I’m kicking you out tomorrow.”

“Why not now?”

“Eat your damn dinner first.”

Dinner after that is awkward. Although Gojo is someone who can wolf down his meal in three seconds, he takes his time in eating to start conversation with you. Sometimes he asks decent questions like how your day was or he’d talk about something stupid, but he’s quiet the whole time. He even volunteers to do the dishes before retreating to his room, coating the house in silence.

It almost feels like you’re all alone over again.

You’ve gotten so used to him being an utter mess everywhere that when he’s not trying to piss you off and actually giving you the much needed peace, you begin to hate it. Memories of the rude things you’ve said to him a while ago play and in your head, and you bang your head against the wall repeatedly.

How are you supposed to apologize to Satoru now?

The answer doesn’t come until you stare at your walls, wide awake at midnight. The house is still eerily silent and you don’t stop shuffling around your bed in discomfort. Many times, you wished that Satoru would shut up and leave you alone, but now that he’s actually done that, it feels weird. Uncomfortable. It feels wrong.

With a grunt, you kick off the sheets and carefully tread to his room, knocking lightly in case he’s already sleeping. “Satoru?” you call out, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. “Are you awake?”

You’ve seen Satoru angry as kids before, but what would he be like now? Would he still want to be your friend? Would he still annoy you by hiding your things somewhere you can’t reach? Or would he be the who is now out of reach? If he leaves...who’s going to walk you to work? Who’s going to complain he doesn’t want to do groceries but buys you things you don’t ask for but want anyway? Who’s going to keep teasing the living daylights out of you if not him?

All these thoughts claw at the back of your mind until your bottom lip trembles. You hate how weak you feel; how you’re never careful with your words.

You never meant it when you said all that.

Your train of thought is cut off when the door swings open, revealing an equally tired-looking Satoru. At the sight of you peering up at him with glossy eyes, he pushes the door wider and steps closer to you, his large hands cupping your face as he leans down in worry. “Cupcake,” his brows pinch together, “Did something happen? Is something wrong?”

“I just wanted to apologize for everything I said,” you blurt out, “I was just tired from work and my boss was being shitty, so I wasn’t totally myself that time and I’m really sorry I took my anger out on you. I didn’t mean it when I said you’re insufferable and that I’m kicking you out so – yeah,” you breathe out, trailing your gaze downwards to stare at your feet instead. It’s difficult to look him in the eye right now. When you finally gain courage to speak again, it barely comes out as a whimper, your hands delicately tugging at his shirt. “Please stay. I like having my best friend around here.”

Satoru doesn’t answer.

You’re about to look up at him just in case you’ve said something wrong, or worse, he refuses to forgive you, but then – “Yeah, I know you wouldn’t kick me out. You’re too much of a darling to say no to me.”

Sigh. Satoru laughs when he sees your shoulders deflate, absolutely shattered in exhaustion. Hiding your smile to now show him you’re relieved, you punch his chest that really feels like a fly had accidentally flew into him. “Way to ruin the mood, Satoru. And here I thought I could have a serious conversation with you for once.”

“Apology accepted,” he beams, tilting your chin upwards so you could look at him. Even in the darkness of his room, his eyes glow, leaving you hypnotized in its beauty. “Plus, I think I’m the one who should apologize. You’re right; I haven’t been the best roommate and I am a freeloader,” he scratches the side of his head in thought. “But I do buy you food all the time though.”

“Yeah, with my money,” you counter, but you don’t really care anymore at this point. You’re beyond elated you’re both fine now, and you shyly gesture to his big, warm bed that suddenly looks so comfortable. “Can I stay here for tonight?”

“You want Satoru’s bear hug?”

“Yes, I do.” There’s no hesitation in your words and you don’t complain anymore when he easily picks you up like a ragdoll using only one arm. He’s surprisingly gentle when he places you both down on the bed, sheets warm and soft as it blankets over you.

It would be perfect – except it’s so damn awkward.

Gojo’s long limbs are everywhere. Your face is pressed into his chest, both your legs tangled together. His arm is sprawled over the curve of your hip, his hand nearly grazing your ass that’s barely covered by the thin material of your shorts, but if he shifts, he’ll end up cupping the back of your thighs which is equally uncomfortable.

He seems to be stuck in the same position because you’re so small, and your knees are grazing his groin. Had he known you’re going to sleep with him, he would’ve worn underwear or even boxers under his sweatpants.

He’s never told you before, but he prefers to sleep in the nude. Satoru only picked up the nearest pair of pants when he heard you knock, and even then, he didn’t have the time to wear a shirt.

Your breath is hot on his skin and he’s so sensitive and aware of all your movements. Satoru clears his throat awkwardly, shifting until his arm lightly holds your back instead, but then he pulls away as if he’s touched fire when he’d unknowingly fiddled with your bra clasp instead. It’s so painfully awkward that Satoru chuckles above you, while you scrunch your nose, silently praying to the heavens above that he won’t hear how loud your heart is beating right now.

“Why is it so hot in your own room?”

“Maybe it’s time you get me an AC.”

“You wish, Satoru,” you mumble beneath him, making yourself as comfortable as you can with your cheek resting on his bicep. It’s not the softest pillow considering he’s pretty muscular, but he’s warm and smells like mint spice nevertheless. “You’re really not going to put on a shirt?”

Satoru sighs, a long and loud one that is extended for dramatic purposes. Suddenly, he pushes your knee off of him, grimacing and thanking the darkness that you can’t see how much he’s struggling right now. “Cupcake, this is hard for me as much as it is for you. You’re barely wearing anything.”

“Since when have you cared about what I wear?”

“I’m a man, Y/N,” is what he reasons with, “You’re lucky it’s me. Had it been someone else and you crawled into their bed wearing these—” Satoru pinches the waistband of your shorts, and you squeal in protest, only making him laugh afterwards before he lets it go and the material snaps back at your skin, “—poor excuse of what you call shorts, I can’t guarantee they’ll give you a peaceful night.”

You know exactly what he’s trying to hint at. Still, it’s hard to believe that Satoru is capable of seeing you that way.

It’s not that you feel you’re unattractive. You know you’re pretty and have been out on many dates, but it’s easy to feel that you’re not sexy when you have the height of a thirteen year old and you’ve been constantly chastised about it.

Satoru’s not-compliment compliment has your heart skipping a beat, and you scoff in response. “Shut up,” you warn lamely, “I want to sleep.”

“Then let’s sleep, cupcake.” You don’t know if it’s because you’re utterly exhausted that you doze off seconds later or if Satoru’s words just held power in them, but soon all thoughts of anything unwanted drifts out the window, his arms keeping you close, completely safe and sound until the worst nightmares couldn’t even come close.

Hot. It’s extremely hot.

You crack an eye open to try and find the source of this uncomfortable heat, but you freeze when you realize you can’t feel your muscles from the chin down. Panic rises in your throat once you see the current predicament you’re in, and a scream rips through your throat so loud that the birds outside scurry away in a flurry.

You’re wrapped in Satoru’s blanket and comforter, rendering you unable to move because of how he’d treated you like a burrito wrap. Even your toes are captured inside this hell, and only your head is able to wriggle side to side.

“Satoru!”

The culprit comes out of the shower a split second later, his hair dripping wet and only a towel hanging low from his lips. If you weren’t so hell-bent on killing him, you would’ve been speechless at the way water drips from his hair down to the curves of his abs, going down down down into a place only your darkest imaginations could take you.

Satoru bends over in laughter as he whips out his phone, jumping from angle to angle and side to side to take photos of you. “Fuck,” he howls, slapping his thigh while you snarl in an attempt to break free. “You’re a lot cuter than I thought you’d be.”

“Satoru! Get me out of here!”

“No, this is way too gold. I’m sending these to my students.”

“Satoru, I’m serious!” The devil incarnate himself falls deaf to your please.

Maybe it’s because the violent intent has coursed through your veins so strongly that a surge of energy and strength overcomes you, and soon, you’ve rolled out of the blanket. The fresh air nipping at your heated skin is most welcomed, but right now, you had a mission to fulfil: obliterate Gojo Satoru.

The platinum haired man is still laughing to himself, too distracted in scrolling through the best photos to send to his students that he doesn’t notice you escaping and zooming straight right at him.

The momentum is enough to catch him off guard until you end up on top of him, short arms clawing your way through to snatch his phone. Satoru yelps when his phone lands out into the living room and your hands come down to choke him. You don’t have plans to kill him, but you want to hurt him enough to remind him you’re not someone he can fuck with.

You’ve just about had enough of this man and you’re so sick of him!

Satoru yells out a “Hey!” when you let out a battle cry, using your legs to kick him back when he tries to sit up. Your plan backfires when your hands slip down his wet skin and you fall face forwards, hands barely touching the ground for support when your lips come crashing down on his.

He stills underneath you. It takes a moment for you to realize that holy shit, you’re kissing him and his lips are so soft that has you scrambling back, but Satoru doesn’t let you.

His large hand comes up at the back of your neck to pull you forward. The sudden movement makes you gasp, and Satoru slips his tongue inside when you do so. You no longer remember how you got here or try to make sense of what’s going on, because he feels so good, tastes so good that you bury your nails in his hair while he ravishes your mouth.

You’re so tiny that his hand cups your entire buttcheek almost possessively, a low growl emanating deep in his throat when your tongue eagerly intertwines with his. Satoru tastes like heaven and everything about the kiss is sloppy – tongue clashing with one another and teeth nibbling at the other’s lips. It’s clear both of you can’t get enough of one another as you moan in his mouth, shamelessly grinding on his crotch, suddenly thankful that you’re always wearing thin clothes when you feel him harden underneath you.

“Fuck, baby,” he pulls away to breathe, a string of saliva connecting the both of you. “Yeah, just like that,” There’s something empowering about the way he pants at your ministrations, especially when you roll your hips faster across his erection. “Keep going, baby, you’re doing – fuck – so well.”

You smirk at his praises, latching your teeth on his neck to suck marks on them. Satoru groans at the same time you muffle your moans through his skin, his hands sliding under your shirt to tug the cups of your bra down. You nearly lose it when he pinches your nipple, bolts of electricity running down your spine at the contact. A moan breaks through your lips just as you come right there and then, the wetness of your sudden orgasm barely hidden in your flimsy underwear.

“Feel good?” he teases and drags your shirt down to the other side, but the post-nut clarity hits. And when it does, it hits hard.

Fuck. You just came from Satoru’s simple touches, and he’s so unsatisfied, still painfully hard underneath you but nothing but panic and regret washes over you like a strong tidal wave. Suddenly, you grow lightheaded as you push yourself off him, fixing your bra while ignoring the confused and hurt look on his face.

“I gotta go to work,” you run out the room, feeling your body tremble as Satoru runs after you. “Make yourself breakfast. I’ll eat on the way out.”

“Y/N, wait!”

You know you’ve just ruined everything – that nothing will ever be the same after that – but you’re scared, utterly and remorsefully so, that you slam the door right in his face as if you don’t have any idea how much you broke him.

You’ll never forget the way Satoru’s face fell when you left.

Just as you thought, nothing is the same after that. The tension is so thick around the apartment you make an effort and go out of your way just to avoid him and the apartment completely.

It’s cowardly – you know this much – but do you ever try to fix the friendship you cherish but shattered completely? You don’t. You don’t because it only crashes down onto you now that maybe your feelings for him aren’t just platonic, after all. It’s even worse because you touch yourself at the thought of him filling you up when he’s asleep, all because you want him so bad and the mere presence of him has your brain malfunctioning.

It isn’t entirely sexual either. Yes, you want to fuck him badly, but it scares you down to the core even more because you want so much more than that.

Now you understand why you always say he’s a bother but never asked him to leave. It’s because you like him, actually romantically interested in him. It makes sense now why you always felt so annoyed whenever your co-workers asked for his number, or how you’re immediately pissed off when Satoru talks about this hot woman he saw at work. You always chalk it up to an excuse you just hate how he can’t keep in his pants, but it isn’t true at all.

It’s because you actually like him – and you’re at a loss on what to do or how to deal with it.

The next few days feels like hell. Satoru isn’t stupid; he knows you’re avoiding him. He stops teasing you eventually and even buys takeout all the time when you lock yourself up in your room right after work, refusing to cook dinner or even eat all so you’d be spared the torture of looking at him.

He’d knock at your door and ask you to eat, but other than that, he’s respected your distance.

You feel like the most terrible person on earth. You don’t miss the way dark circles line under his eyes or how he’s lost his spark, barely even speaking to you when you’ve come or about to leave for work.

You’re alone the whole ride, as well, and it only dawns on you how lonely you are when Satoru isn’t always annoying you all the time.

But it doesn’t make sense. Why is he so bothered by it? Didn’t he regret it? It’s painfully clear you’re not Satoru’s type. You’ve seen the women he dated before, and you’re not close to them so why does he seem like he’s struggling with this as well? Or maybe...he’s just sad that his friend is avoiding him.

Yeah, that has to be it.

Satoru is a man. He was probably turned on at that time, but after giving some thought about it, he probably wants to keep his distance too. He’d be insane if he ever actually wants to date you – his best friend out of all people – because he’s Gojo Satoru and he could literally have everyone else.

You don’t care that you’re a coward.

You don’t care that Satoru is sad to see you this way.

You don’t care because you know he’ll reject you, you know he’ll be weirded if you admit your feelings for him. To him, you’re like his little sister. There’s just no way you two would work out. For now, you have to get comfortable with the uncomfortable. You just need some time to get over your feelings for him, and when you’re confident you won’t fall for him again, you’ll mend your friendship.

You just need time.

“So, Y/N, you still don’t want to give us your friend’s number?”

“Yeah, Y/N, you should share it,” your co-worker encourages by jabbing her shoulder to yours. It’s a lazy Friday night and the staff went out for dinner. You don’t usually come to these hangouts since dinner with Satoru is always much more fun, but he’s the last person you want to think about now, so you happily join them. Now, though, you’re starting to regret ever coming here. “If he’s really single like you said, then it shouldn’t be a big deal to ask for it.”

“Well, since you want it so badly, why don’t you ask him directly for it instead?” you snap, feeling anger begin to trickle. All you wanted was just one day where you don’t have to think of him, but of course they had to bring him up. It’s also annoying how they can never seem to get the message across that you don’t want them dating him. “Why do I have to be the messenger?”

“We haven’t seen him much. Doesn’t he always walk you to work?”

“He’s been busy with his job, that’s all.” And also because I’m avoiding him – so now he’s avoiding me too.

“He’s a teacher, right?”

“Oh, come on, guys, don’t be so dense,” your senpai chugged her drink rather loudly, catching the attention of your nosy co-workers who wouldn’t stop pestering you for his number. “Look at how uncomfortable she looks. It’s obvious she doesn’t want you guys to be involved with her friend for a reason. Think of how weird it is for her too if ever her co-worker and best friend dated. She’s going to feel like a third wheel.”

“I’m not—”

“That makes sense,” your co-worker nodded beside you, “Are you sure you just don’t like him though?”

“Ew, why would I?” the food began to taste bitter through your lies, “He may be tall and attractive, but as his roommate, I’ve seen his ugly side. Satoru is a complete slob and can’t even cook to save his life.”

“I don’t mind cooking for him all the time if I were to be his little housewife.”

“That’s never gonna happen,” your words came out harsher than it was, and you laugh it off with a wave of your hand when your co-workers’ eyes widened. “I’ve been living with him for six months and he’s never brought anyone home or told me he’s going on a date. I told you already, he’s a no strings attached kind of guy. He’s nothing but a one night stand.”

“You have to admit he’s still sexy though.”

Right. You hide your groan through another shot because there’s no way of convincing them otherwise. As much as you hate to admit, you’re actually jealous on how freely they could talk about him like that, but then again, it’s not like you and Satoru were dating – or would ever date, for that matter.

They start to leave one by one when it starts to get late, leaving only you who’s still desperate to avoid Satoru. Nothing prepares you for when the sky darkens and a storm comes pouring just as you’ve left the closing shop, the rain drenching and soaking your clothes through and through. Running under the nearest tree for shelter, you shiver. It’s cold – way too cold – and curse yourself for not bringing a darned umbrella.

The nearest bus stop is like what, fifteen to twenty minutes away? Your teeth are chattering and your legs are shaking, and you fumble through your phone as you dial a number you know by heart before you even realize what you’re doing. “S-Satoru?”

“Y/N,” the surprise is unmasked in his voice, something shuffling in the background before it falls silent. “Is everything okay?”

“Uhm, are you busy right now? It’s fine if you are, I’m just—”

“I’m training with Yuuji, but what is it?”

“Listen, I,” you inhale sharply when coldness bursts through your body, making you shiver and press yourself closer to tree to get away from the rain. Above you, thunder crackles before the rain grows heavier and angrier. “I forgot to bring an umbrella and I’m absolutely soaked right now. The nearest bus stop is fifteen minutes away and all the buildings here look so shady—”

“I’ll be on my way. Text me where you are,” You nod and thank him, too cold and numb to realize you’ve just broken days of silence. You lose track of time under there, hugging yourself until your lips turn blue. It doesn’t take long before Satoru shows up minutes later, his hair equally drenched and sticking flat to his eyes free from his blindfold while he pants, hand on his knees. “Thank goodness you’re safe. I rushed here so fast I forgot to bring an umbrella.”

After seeing Satoru drenched like that, something snaps within you. He doesn’t seem bothered by the fact the rain is unforgiving as it slaps the pavement, and your heart breaks when you see that he’s more concerned for you – even after you’ve given him the silent treatment. “You idiot! Now you’re soaking wet too, you’re going to get sick!”

“Highly unlikely,” he shrugs. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

“But what about—” Satoru suddenly carries you before draping his coat over your head, running until he found a cab to hail. He immediately asks the driver to turn up the heater while you tremble on top of him, not caring anymore that you’re sticking so close to him for heat.

Satoru doesn’t let you go all the way inside the apartment. He sets you down on the couch where you take off your wet clothes in haste, too cold with teeth chattering that you silently take the hoodie and boxers Satoru offers you, making sure to keep his gaze averted the whole time. Once fully dressed, you snuggle back into the sofa’s comfort, stiffening when the couch dips beside you.

Not a moment later, Satoru towel-dries your hair, leaving your mouth and throat dry with guilt. Even after you’ve unnecessarily been a bitch to him, he’s still so kind with you.

“Thank you for coming.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Satoru...” you twiddle with your thumbs just as he starts to ruffle the towel in your hair, making sure to squeeze water out of the strands as he dries it. “About what happened the other day—”

“It didn’t happen if you don’t want it to,” his voice is cold’ monotonous and so emotionless you’re rendered speechless. “You can forget about it.”

“I...”

“You regret it, right?” he’s done with drying your hair, and he stands up to place the wet towels in the sink as you watch him stride all the way there. He’s changed his clothes too; looking comfortable in a plain white shirt and some grey sweatpants, looking every bit the domestic boyfriend you’ve always wanted but can never have. “It’s fine. We can forget about it and go back to normal,” to emphasize his point, Satoru winks at you, though it does nothing but make your heart sink.

“What if I don’t want to forget it?” your voice is small; hesitant and wavering with fear. “What if...the only reason I pulled away is because I wanted more of you?”

Satoru’s back freezes as he sets the towel aside. At this point, your heart is pulsing on your tongue, and you dig your nails onto your thighs when Satoru sits down next to you, right next to you. He’s silent the whole time; eyes calculatedly piercing through yours. Your breath hitches when his hands that are burning hot against your cold skin cups your jaw before his thumb runs across your lips, his eyes turning dark at your reactions.

“And what if I said I felt the same way?”

“I,” you gasp, closing your eyes because it all feels so surreal. “I like you, Satoru. I like you a lot and I—” he doesn’t let you finish. Soon, you find yourself in his lap with his hands cupping your cheeks while he smashes his lips onto yours.

Satoru is absolutely feral. He’s breathing hard and almost angry, even, with the way his teeth are biting down to nibble on your lips. You moan when he drags you closer, your clothed centre rubbing on his thigh with delicious friction. “You have no idea,” he rasps down on your lips, “how much I’ve fucking liked you ever since we were kids,” Satoru pushes his hoodie aside, revealing your sweet neck to him, and he doesn’t waste his time in sucking and abusing the poor flesh so he can mark you as his. “I’ve always wanted you, Y/N, it’s always you, always you.”

You fist his hoodie when Satoru sinks his teeth down into the juncture of your neck, his hands curious and exploring every inch of your body. He knows you’re naked underneath his clothes, but it’s a different thing when he actually feels your breasts right on his palm. Satoru tweaks the hardened bud in his fingers, growling when you moan at the contact and use his thigh to get off.

“You—” you gasp as you expose your neck to him, wild and needy as you keep rubbing your heat over his thigh. “—talk way too fucking much,” you scold, finally pushing his lips away from your neck. Satoru chuckles at your eagerness but you silence him by flinging his boxers off of your body and somewhere far away, exposing your heat slick with arousal right in front of him. His pupils blow in excitement, hands coming up to grab at your hips, but his attention is taken away when you nibble on his ear to whisper, “Shut up and fuck me.”

The simple command is enough to make his patience snap. In a flash, you’re pinned underneath him, whining and moaning when his finger meets no resistance as he slips it inside. “You’re that needy, huh?” he laughs even louder when you lose it, humping yourself on his finger because it’s not enough.

“Satoru,” you beg, clutching his bicep when he adds another finger in. “More.”

His fingers are so long, hitting places that your small ones could never reach. He begins to scissor his way in, his fingers deliciously rubbing against your velvety walls while pumping them inside and out in a speed that causes you to squelch around him.

It’s absolutely lewd how you’re eagerly spread out before him, but your head is clouded with lust, no longer hindered by shyness out of your need to cum. Your chest is rising heavily, his thumb now rubbing against your clit as he coaxes you to cum. “Tell me what you want, baby,” he kisses your cheeks, eyelids, nose, anywhere but your lips, his voice so gentle and innocent as if he’s not knuckle deep inside you. “Tell me how you want me.”

“Inside,” you whine, gasping when he brushes against a really sensitive spot that has you clamping down on him. “‘Toru, fuck, just fuck me.”

“Beg for it,” he smiles against your skin, relentless and harsh as he keeps pushing inside you. You feel him everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Another finger adds in until you’re dripping enough on his palm and staining the couch, but neither of you care. “I said, beg for it.”

“No,” you hold back, nearly crying out when he pulls your fingers out of you. That sudden emptiness is back again, but you don’t want to beg. You’ve never begged another man before, and this won’t be the first time you’ll be doing so either. You refuse to let him have the upper hand despite the crystal clear fact you’re already soaking wet for him, but because you’re stubborn, you only fumble with his sweatpants to spring his cock free.

He’s already dripping with pre-cum from the slit, his cock hard and angry. Despite his arousal, Satoru stops you from going further, using only one hand to trap both your wrists. “Beg for it,” he demands again, his other fist already pumping down on his shaft.

You nearly cry at the sight. Both of you are aware that Satoru is capable of pleasuring himself, but it’s not that easy for you. Your small, dainty fingers will never be parallel to the pleasure his long cock could give you. All you had to do was beg for it. He’s right there, within reach, if only you’d just –

Impatient for your answer, Satoru takes you by the hips and discards your hoodie in the process, sinking you down his cock, inch by delicious inch. You don’t hold back from the sensual and high-pitched moan that leaves your lips. He’s long, and the tip of his cock just about brushes your cervix when he bottoms out. He feels so good, so warm and huge and filling you up right where you want him to be. Your head falls down on his shoulder as you begin to roll your hips, but Satoru has had enough.

“Fuck, look at you,” he presses on the bulge of his cock visible through your abdomen. “You’re so fucking small – how do you take me so well? I could ruin you. Do you want that? Do you want me to ruin you?”

“Yes, yes, fuck.”

“You think you can just leave me hanging like that, huh?” he slaps your ass, eliciting another moan from you and making you clench around his cock. Satoru falters for a moment. Before you can react, he stands up, your legs wrapped around his waist with nothing but his tip hitting inside you. “You’ve been so fucking mean – leaving me wanting you like that and ignoring me for days. Do you think you deserve this, huh?” Satoru kicks his door open at the same time he loosens his hold around your ass, making you slide down his length the next second.

“Oh, fuck,” you cry out just as Satoru begins to bounce you, your breasts following the motion of him fucking deep into you. “Fuck, Toru, that’s too—”

He’s so eager to fuck you, to make a mess out of you and have you losing your mind over his cock that he doesn’t even wait until you’re both on the bed. You no longer register when your back hits the pillow, or how your arms are frozen when he pins it above your head.

“You’re so beautiful,” he praises as he watches you clench around him. You’re so small and his eyes zero in on the way your abdomen bulges then flattens again every time he pounds into you, rolling his hips in a way that has you screaming and thighs quaking. “Beautiful, beautiful, perfect,” the moment his hands grip at your hips to pin you down, you know he’s not going to stop. And you don’t want him to.

Satoru latches his lips around your right breast, gently grazing his teeth over it while his other hand pinches and rolls the pebbled nipple between his fingers. He feels so good – and you’re crying already by the time you wrap your legs around him to pull him closer.

The room is filled with the smell of sex, the sound of skin slapping against skin combined with his breathy grunts and your moans like heaven on his ears. Satoru wants you to feel how much he loves you – how much he adores you – and the pace he sets is torturous. He snaps his hips against yours and presses down on the bulge of his cock through your belly, chuckling when you tighten more around him.

Your head lols to the side, tears falling down your pretty face because of how rough he’s being. But you don’t complain, not when he’s filling you in so deep and he’s kissing you everywhere, touching you everywhere, making you feel nothing else and nobody else but him.

“You’re amazing,” he rasps, watching the way your tight cunt sucks him in greedily as if you don’t want him to go anywhere else. “You take me in so well – you really want me to destroy you, huh?”

“Satoru, please,” you finally plead, “I-I’m cumming, I want you, I need you, oh,” you squeal when he finally lets your arms free. You look so precious, so innocent, and he doesn’t let up his pace. He plants his feet into the ground and his strokes begin to grow sloppy, your tight walls encouraging him to go faster, go deeper.

If possible, Satoru is only even more fuelled with the way you look so precious and innocent in that moment. His touch is gentle in comparison to the way he’s mercilessly plowing into you, using his thumb to wipe away the tears streaming down your cheeks. He knows he’s too big for you, that much is obvious from how much you’re already overstimulated just by his size, but your nails sink down on the flesh of his ass as a silent plead for more.

“Fuuuuck, I’m so close!”

“Yeah?” He fondled your clit, loving the sight of your small body creaming down on his cock. “Come for me, sweet girl. I want to feel you coming on my cock. Come on, tell me you’re mine. You’re made me for aren’t you?”

“Yes, Satoru, fuck,” you squeal, throwing your head back for a second when he keeps hitting your g-spot that has you seeing stars. Your toes curl and your hands fist the sheets behind you as he keeps impaling you with his cock right then and there.

You looked perfect; so perfect to him that he’s basically using you for his own pleasure at this moment. Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, back arching and nipples brushing against his chest.

In that moment, you grow needy to have him even closer, tilting up to blindly search for his lips. Satoru complies; leaning down and leaving open mouthed breathy kisses that’s a mix of you moaning and crying around him, while he struggles to do so when he’s cursing at the feeling of you coating his cock with your juices. Satoru looks down at your tiny frame trapped in his arms, his voice husky as he groans once he saw both of your arousal absolutely leaking out of your wet cunt.

He’s so close but you’re already over the edge, scratching at his back at the overstimulation. You’re still so sensitive from when you came and Satoru doesn’t slow one down one bit. He loses his rhythm as his thrusts go sloppy, and Satoru buries his face in your neck as his cock twitches inside you until he bursts with his cum leaking out of your hole.

Satoru’s arms give out beneath you, his chest colliding with yours but not enough that he’s crushing you with his weight. You’re both breathing hard and panting, his dick softening inside you.

He pulls back a moment later to slide out his sensitive cock, wincing while he watches pools of cum gather in your pussy before it drips out. It isn’t until he’s witnessing the mess he’s made he realizes how you’ve been so good for him; taking him all the way in despite your quivering frame. It dawns on him now just how tiny you are when he pulls you close to him; you’re practically hanging off his chest with how small your body is.

He wonders how you’re able to fit all of him, but he’s grateful nevertheless. Satoru shows his appreciation by peppering kisses all over your face, his hand snaking down to caress your inner thighs.

“Hmm,” you moan into the kiss, jolting when his knuckles brush against your sensitive clit. “Satoru, no,” you whine while pushing his hand away, and he shushes you with another kiss. “’M too sensitive, please...”

“It’s fine, cupcake, it’s fine,” his nickname for you is back again, and you lean closer to him just as he begins to massage your sore legs. “You did so well for me, cupcake, you know that? You’re such a good girl for me,” too fucked out to have a comprehensive answer, you only nod in response, spreading your legs open again and ignoring the warm stickiness between your thighs as Satoru kneads your abused flesh. You feel him kiss your temple before he leaves to get a towel and cleans you up. Meanwhile, you’re so tired you’re about to doze out in his bed.

“Hey,” he soothes, bundling you up in his arms until you’re tucked in the safety of his body. So small, he coos inside his head, watching as you fold yourself even smaller while your eyes flutter. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you sigh into his shoulder, “I feel good. Thank you.”

Satoru doesn’t really know what you’re thanking him for. He feels like he’s the one who’s mostly indebted to you after everything you’ve done for him. You’ve already fallen asleep before he gets the chance to tell you how he feels, so Satoru only covers you both under his blanket, making sure there’s no more space between you out of fear you’ll distance yourself from him again.

But he doesn’t have to worry about that because you’re right next to him, and you’re never out of reach.

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liebgotts-lovergirl · 2 years ago

Text

Wonderstruck Pt. 2

(Pt. 1)

Gallery II Taglist Application II Symbol Guide

Summary: In following her out into the night after her hasty exit, Joseph Liebgott has flipped Alix's entire world on its head. But maybe, just maybe, she doesn't mind. A/N: THERE'S A PLOT, I PROMISE, THERE'S A PLOT!!!! Dedication: To my dear friend @brassknucklespeirs who encourages my bad behavior. Consider this your payback for hurting my heart & calling me out with "No Shame"🤭💖 WARNINGS: SMUT (18+), Hurt/Comfort, Unsafe sex (WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT, Y'ALL, OR I'M COMING FOR YOUR KNEECAPS 🤬🤬🤬), Trust issues, Implied abuse (nothing graphic), everybody cusses like a sailor but y'all knew that Taglist: @latibvles @softguarnere @brassknucklespeirs @mccall-muffin @holdingforgeneralhugs

8 Months Earlier: January 8th, 1944. Aldbourne, England.

It wasn’t until Alix made it outside of the lobby and into the icy chill of the English winter that she realized she’d forgotten her coat.

The wind was harsh, stinging her bare skin, and she rubbed her arms in a vain attempt to ward off its bite as she began the long walk home.

“Kinda hard to 'go for a smoke' without your cigs, ain’t it?” a familiar voice called into the night as the door squeaked shut behind him, forcing Alix to stop in her tracks.

Goddamn it.

The agent huffed, gathering her courage before turning to face Joe, the small cloud of her breath still hanging in the frosty air behind her.

She'd intended to speak but no sound came out.

After all, what was there to say?

“I lied and ran off because I’m scared to get involved with you, in case you’re already involved with someone else?"

Yeah, that would go over like a ton of bricks.

A Martinelli doesn’t show weakness, Alix remembered her father scolding her when she’d dissolved into tears after Clay’s numerous, public infidelities. Not now, not ever.

So she said nothing, arms crossed, her ruby-red lips pressed into a tense line as she studied the paratrooper who'd come out after her.

Joe was standing just outside the building's overhang, hands shoved deeply into his pockets as he leaned against the building's outer wall, Alix's navy-blue coat draped over one shoulder.

His deep brown puppy eyes traced over her features so softly, as though there was something worth seeing in them…in her…

Alix crossed her arms even tighter around herself, dropping her gaze to the cobblestones. Anything to avoid those sweet, puppy-dog eyes.

She hated the way he looked at her, like she was the sun: something brilliant, worthy of kindness and reverence, and a million other sweet sentiments she didn't feel she deserved.

How could anyone look at her like that after the things she'd done?

∆∆━━━━∆∆━━━∆∆━━━∆∆

4 Years Earlier: August 18th, 1940. Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

With a shout of obscenities in Italian, her father Emilio, had burst into their parlor, slamming a stack of men’s magazines and pinup calendars down onto the mahogany coffee table in front of her with such force that the whole table shook.

“What in God’s name is this?” he demanded, stabbing an accusatory finger at a Beauty Parade drawing of her in a slinky evening gown cut practically down to her navel, her cleavage nearly spilling out as she leaned on a piano.

“And this!” A page torn from the Esquire calendar depicting a provocatively-posed Alix as Miss July, lounging on a beach towel in an impossibly tiny two-piece.

“And this!” A Titter centerfold featuring a blushing Alix with the skirt of her sundress snagged in a door, revealing her garters and a tantalizing flash of white lace panties.

“Is this what you've been doing while you're away?” her father bellowed, his voice echoing off the walls. “We send you to Richmond for finishing school and you become a prostitute?!"

"No, Pa, I-"

"Basta! Non dire cazzate, you got that? Don't fucking bullshit me!"

"They're just pin-up drawings! It's not like I'm naked-"

"You think that makes it better?!"

Her father grabbed one of the calendars off the table and waved it in front of her face.

"Do you see this shit? This is the shit roughnecks carry with them out to the oil fields every day! Is that who you want to be, Alix, some workmen’s tart for them to gawk at, like a piece of meat?! You want your name– OUR name– associated with the likes of them?!"

"I didn't even use my real name for those!” Alix shot back, her temper flaring.

Her parents were strict but even still: she’d had a taste of freedom and she’d be damned if she’d be caged ever again.

“Pa, I’m careful, I swear! I give false names every time! Hell, I’ve even worn wigs!"

"And what, you think that's going to keep people from recognizing you?! Ci fai o ci sei?!"

"No, I'm not stupid, Pa! Look, I-"

"Zitta! We did not name you after royalty so that you could parade around like a whore and humiliate this family! We’ve got a reputation to uphold and I am not about to have it ruined because of you! Capisce?"

Without waiting for an answer, he threw the calendar down onto the ground and began to pace across the floor, muttering and massaging his temple with his hand.

“Santa Maria,” he all but spat, shaking his head at his prodigal daughter with disgust.

“We can only pray the Hearsts don’t hear of this. Because who in God’s name would want to marry you now, knowing the…the filth you’ve involved yourself in?!”

∆∆━━━━∆∆━━━∆∆━━━∆∆

8 Months Earlier: January 8th, 1944. Aldbourne, England.

Joe broke the tension first, clearing his throat uncomfortably, and Alix jumped at the sound.

Tentatively, he draped her coat around her shoulders, as though she were a bomb set to detonate any second.

Just like everybody else in the company.

Alix drew the dark material tightly around her for protection from the elements.

“How’d you know?” she asked softly, glancing up to him nervously before her eyes darted away again.

How did you know that was my coat?

How did you know where I’d be?

How do you know me so well without ever having known me?

Joe rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably.

“I ain’t a spy or anythin’ but I ain't fuckin’ blind either,” he remarked, attempting a smile but it came off more as a grimace of self-loathing.

“I noticed you when I came in. I remembered the coat you wore. It…”

He huffed for a second, his breath clouding the frosty air, before finishing simply, “It looked good on you.”

“Thanks,” Alix murmured before retrieving her cigarettes and glancing back up to Joe, extending an olive branch.

"You want one?"

He cocked an eyebrow and hesitated for a moment, before asking, "What kind?"

"Chesterfields," Alix replied with a half-smile, passing the white and gold carton over to him. "I'm under contract."

Was it just the dim lighting of the street lamps or did she see the ghost of a smile cross his face?

"Ya got good taste," he remarked simply before plucking a cigarette from the carton and retrieving a lighter from his pocket.

He leaned over to give hers a light first, the both of them painfully aware of how close their faces were once again.

The unacknowledged memory of the almost-kiss from earlier lingered between them like the rolling fog over the crop fields and Alix wondered if he could hear the thump-thump-thumping of her heart at the thought, even now.

“You coulda just told me, y’know," he mumbled after the first drag, sounding so unusually quiet and hesitant, so unlike the brash, cocky front he tried to keep up, that for a second, his words didn't even register.

"Told you what, Joey?"

The agent flinched at the way her voice sounded. Brittle, like broken glass.

But she couldn't help it. Her resolve was waning.

As she took a drag to steady herself, Joe's head jerked up in surprise at her words, brown eyes wide.

"Joey, huh?" he repeated, ignoring her question as the corner of his mouth starting to quirk up in his trademark goofy grin. "Nobody's ever called me that before."

Alix started to apologize automatically but Joe shook his head.

"Don't," he chided gently. "I like it. But-"

He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. "Think I'd like anything that comes outta that pretty mouth of yours."

"Awful quick with the lines tonight, aren't we?" Alix tried to sound nonchalant but there was a notable edge to her voice that caused Joe's brows to knit with concern.

"That a problem?"

"Of course not," Alix replied coolly, the smoke from her last drag curling into the air between them like a momentary barrier.

"I just know your type is all."

Joe gritted his teeth at her insinuation.

"Yeah?” he asked tersely. “And what type's that?"

“The type that gives their girl back home the runaround while they're off chasing tail and chasing glory."

A vein popped in his jaw at the insinuation.

"You think you got me all figured out, huh?” he snapped tersely. "Well you don't. I've never gone steady with anybody, okay? I don't have the fuckin' time!"

He shook his head in frustration.

"I been workin' two jobs, helpin' out my folks and lookin' out for my siblings since I was a fuckin' teenager. Yeah I slept around a little bit here and there, I'm not gonna bullshit you, but I never gave anybody the fuckin' runaround, okay? I'm not Skinny and I sure as fuck ain't Tab."

Alix blinked in shock at his outburst as she absorbed his words, but Joe wasn't done.

"And y'wanna know why I joined the Airborne?" he demanded.

He took a quick drag, the exhale coming just as fast.

"Wasn't for shits and giggles, lemme tell ya. It was so I could save enough money to put a fuckin' down payment on a house for my folks. That's why. Not glory, not girls, okay? My fuckin' family.

He took another puff of his cigarette, golden-brown eyes now studying the darkened landscape behind her before discarding it under his heel.

Alix tensed. Taking a slow drag off her own cig, she hoped quietly that the slightly bitter, hazy taste would clear her racing thoughts. But it didn't.

Boy, did she feel stupid.

"Look, Joe, I-I'm sorry," she mumbled, staring at the ground and tossing her cigarette away, her muscles taut as she braced for some sort of fight.

Conflict was a regular feature of her life growing up. Her father was a wild and wealthy womanizer and her melancholic mother socially prominent and heavily religious. When they clashed, which was often, the walls of their estate shook with the bellowing, doors slamming, and glass breaking.

A marriage of convenience, yes, but a match made in hell.

Her first real boyfriend…her former fiancé…had been much the same. Alix had learned very quickly that Clayton Hearst did not tolerate mouthiness.

That was probably why her father had chosen him for a match— to keep his wayward daughter in line. It hadn't stopped Alix from fighting back but it made for some very rough arguments.

Fortunately, Clay had left for the Marines while she was still in school, allowing Alix a small reprieve from their near-constant fighting.

The Dear Jane letter she'd gotten in the mail a month later had only proven to her what she'd already known deep-down:

Clay had never loved her. Hell, he'd never even liked her. The still-healing bruises from their parting arguments were proof enough of that. And just like her father, he'd rather spend his leave time cavorting with other women instead of remaining faithful to the one he was supposed to love.

The soft percussion of boots on pavement shook Alix out of her reverie and she jumped. But to her surprise, Joe's approach wasn't angry. Not at all.

Instead, she felt calloused fingers gently tilting her chin up to look him in the eyes and she flinched. But instead of the fury she'd come to expect, she saw only concern reflected back at her.

“I don’t know what asshole taught you that that’s how men are,” he said softly. “But I can fuckin’ promise you, that ain't how I am. You'll see."

Alix knew she shouldn't but the sincerity in Joe’s tone tugged at her heartstrings in a way she hadn’t expected and even with all her reservations, she couldn't help but believe him.

She was suddenly, painfully aware of his proximity, his face so tantalizingly near that she could smell the dizzying sweetness of the alcohol on his breath mingling with the faint smoke of his last cigarette.

Alix's eyes raked across his features: the intensity of his warm caramel gaze, his finely-drawn cheekbones, his strong aquiline nose, and she couldn't help but linger on the smile tugging at his lips, each thud of her heartbeat chanting the same thing like a mantra:

Kiss him. Kiss him. Kiss him.

"You gonna kiss me or what?" Joe teased softly, as if he could read her mind.

The slight gravel of his voice sent a tingle of pleasure down her spine and Alix knew then, as surely as she knew her own name, that kissing Joe Liebgott would be sealing her own fate, allowing herself to need him in a way she hadn’t wanted to need anyone ever again.

But in that moment, a decision was made:

It would be worth it.

So in response, Alix gave in to her impulses and pressed her lips earnestly to his with all of the sweet desperation that had been building up inside her since their eyes had first met days earlier.

Before she’d even known his name, a part of her had wanted to do this and the fact that it was actually happening had her head spinning in the best way.

Joe’s lips were soft, far softer than she’d expected them to be and they moved instinctively against hers in perfect synchronicity, anticipating her needs as naturally as he had on the dancefloor.

Alix reached up and ran her fingers through his thick copper hair, the intoxicating musk of his cologne and the feel of his arms sliding around her waist sending warmth blossoming through her like a blazing hearth in the winter chill.

Deepening the kiss, her tongue tentatively prodded his half-parted lips and he tangled a hand in her hair, intensifying their embrace.

Kissing Joe was like a drug, the syrupy-sweetness of the alcohol on his tongue and the searing heat of his mouth on hers stirred something in her she'd never before experienced.

The warmth between them was slowly building, spreading like a wildfire, and even the sudden, frigid downpouring of sleet couldn't sour the elation they felt in each other's arms.

“You gotta be shittin’ me,” Joe chuckled in between kisses, deftly flipping the collar up on his jacket with his free hand.

“What’s wrong, flyboy?” Alix quipped, her hair now coated in the frozen slush. “Afraid of a little winter weather?”

“Nah," he scoffed with a teasing nip at her bottom lip. "But if I catch a fuckin' cold ‘cause of it, I’m makin’ you take care of me.”

"Yeah?" the agent joked, returning the nip playfully. "Why me?"

"'Cause I ain't foolin' around with Roe."

Alix couldn't even respond, reluctantly having to tear herself away due to her uncontrollable shivering.

"I should p-probably get g-going," Alix managed from between chattering teeth.

Both her coat and dress had already been soaked through with the freezing water and the harsh wind was biting at her through the trees.

"B-Before it g-gets worse."

"Not like this we're fuckin' not," Joe declared, gently guiding Alix under the overhang. "We'll catch our deaths."

"You-You don't have to come," Alix replied, wrapping her arms around herself in a vague attempt to conserve whatever body heat hadn't already fled.

"Like hell I don't," Joe responded stubbornly, crossing his arms to keep himself warm as well.

"If you think I'm gonna let you walk home alone in the middle of the night, and in this weather on top of it, you're outta your fuckin' mind."

He was shivering too but he still took off his half-soaked coat and wrapped it around Alix's already-soaked coat anyway.

"What...What do you recommend then?"

Instead of answering, Joe opened the door to the White Rose again.

"Lemme take care of it, dollface." he called over his shoulder as he slipped inside. "Don't miss me too much."

∆∆━━━━∆∆━━━∆∆━━━∆∆

About five minutes later, Joe reappeared, dangling a room key with a triumphant grin on his face.

"C'mon Ziskeit," he urged, wrapping an arm around her and guiding her inside where it was warmer. "I told ya I'd take care of it!"

"How did you manage that?" Alix asked incredulously, once she'd stopped shivering so violently. "They don't rent to unmarried couples, do they? It'd be improper!"

As if to answer her question, when they passed the concierge desk, the clerk gave them an enthusiastic parting wave.

"Enjoy your Honeymoon, Corporal and Mrs. Liebgott!"

Alix turned to Joe, wide-eyed.

"Joey, you didn't-!"

But Joe shot her a wink.

"What can I say? I got creative."

∆∆━━━━∆∆━━━∆∆━━━∆∆

Their room at the White Rose was a bit on the smaller side, right next to the first floor stairwell, and most importantly, it was warm but Alix wouldn't have noticed the difference if it had been a suite at the Waldorf.

Joe's lips pressed urgently against hers and together, they stumbled as one through the doorway in a frenzy of desire, each kissing the other as though their lives depended on it.

"You been drivin' me crazy all night, y'know that?" Joe mumbled haltingly against her lips as he fumbled blindly for the door knob.

"Have I?" Alix asked innocently, lightly nipping at his bottom lip before peeling off her coat and tossing it to the ground.

“Don’t fuckin’ play with me, Zees," he cautioned, pressing her back up against the closed door, which rattled its complaint.

"But why, Joey?" Alix purred seductively, reeling him in by his tie just to brush her lips tantalizingly against his and slip away before he could kiss her.

"It's so much fun to tease you."

"Yeah?" She could hear the smirk in his rough voice but what she hadn’t expected was to feel him behind her.

Catching her hand as he spoke, Joe deftly tugged her back to him and she yielded, allowing him to pin her against the opposite wall instead with a dull thump, caging her between his arms.

"’Cause I bet it's gonna be a whole lot more fun to tease you.”

He started with her jawline, his kisses torturously gradual as he made his way down her arching neck, the heat of his breath sending goosebumps prickling down her limbs.

Locating her sweet spots with relative ease, he latched on, sucking a small trail of love bites into the delicate skin, pulling a breathy moan from Alix’s throat before she could stop it.

He was smirking against the blossoming bruises, she could feel it, and she eagerly nipped a row of matching marks into his neck in return, around the chain of his dog tags, the resulting guttural groan from him making her a little weak in the knees.

His kisses traveled further down at a maddening crawl, making Alix squirm with impatience.

He was keeping her caged against the wall on purpose, forcing her to allow him to take the lead and for an agent so used to being the pursuer, the honeytrap, in-command at all times, she could’ve screamed in frustration.

Sensing her impatience, he captured her mouth in another desperate, heated kiss and she pressed her whole body flush against him with an almost-feline grace.

Slow as pouring honey, she dragged herself agonizingly against him, making sure he felt every inch of her from her breasts to her hips and ass up against him.

She could feel the curve of his hard cock straining through his trousers as it lightly prodded her thigh–– and the sensation inflamed her like a cat in heat.

Tugging him nearer by his tie a second time, Alix leaned just close enough for her warm breath to ghost along the shell of his ear.

“Fuck, I need you, Joey,” she moaned breathily, running a teasing hand over the bulge in his pants and making him shudder from the contact. “I need you so bad.”

“Okay now that,” Joe groaned at her touch. “That’s just fuckin’ cruel.”

“Then do something about it,” Alix purred and that was all the paratrooper needed to hear.

Joe could be a very petty and proud man, but even so: he wasn’t superhuman.

Scooping her up in his deceptively-strong arms, Alix let out a small yelp of surprise as Joe moved her away from the wall and began backing her towards the bed, their lips crashing against each other’s again and again as they stumbled to it, throwing off their clothes as they went.

Joe’s tie, her dress, his shirt, her heels, they all were strewn somewhere on the way but neither of them noticed where.

The backs of Alix’s knees hit the bed and Joe gave her a gentle push, easing her onto it, the mattress springs creaking softly.

But for all his earlier cockiness, the paratrooper was rendered completely awestruck by her nearly-naked form, and he took a step back for a moment, simply standing there in his skivvies, gazing at her in pure disbelief.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” he whispered finally, his eyes roving down her lounging body on the mattress, absorbing the image as though he couldn’t quite believe she was real.

Alix propped herself up on her elbows to give him a better view. Her bra was long gone– tossed to the floor nearby– and all that remained on her were her black garter belt, and matching stockings.

Suddenly, Alix found herself feeling more nervous than she ever had before. Modeling was impersonal. This wasn’t like that at all.

None of the artists had ever looked at her the way Joe was looking at her now, so…so reverently and yet so ravenously at the same time.

Come to think of it, no man she’d ever met had looked at her like that before, with such a mixture of carnal desire and awestruck admiration, and it was driving her wild in the best way.

She needed him. In whatever way he wanted, Alix knew she needed him.

As if he could read her thoughts, he walked to the edge of the bed and gently nudged her legs apart with his hand.

Alix must’ve looked surprised because he gave her a playful wink and settled between her thighs as though he'd always been, the look of pure desire in his eyes sending a tingling sensation to her most sensitive parts.

Shifting the pillows so she could have a better vantage point, Alix could see even from there that Joe’s pupils were blown with lust and she could feel herself reddening under his gaze.

“You just sit back and relax up there, Ziskeit,” he entreated her, the old cocky, flirtatious Liebgott grin she’d seen earlier in the evening returning once again.

“This is gonna be fun.”

“Joey, you don’t have to…” Alix began softly but the feeling of his lips nipping and kissing the inside of her thighs killed the rest of the words in her throat.

God, he was good.

He left a burning path of love bites from her hip bones down her inner thighs, causing her to whine impatiently at the dull ache blooming between her legs.

He was driving her crazy and he knew it too, damn him.

Alix’s breath hitched as Joe eased her panties to the side with a finger.

"God, you're fuckin' soaked," he breathed and Alix felt her heartbeat quickening at the lewdness dripping from his words.

But even underneath the obscenity and voraciousness of his tone, there was an underlying sweetness too.

“You sure you wanna do this, Ziskeit?” he asked tentatively, meeting her eyes and suddenly seeming almost nervous.

“We don’t have to, y’know…I’ll understand, if you don’t…”

Alix frowned.

Had she misread his signals the whole night? Was he just here because he was mollifying her?

“Do you not want to?”

His eyebrows shot up immediately and he sat back on his knees.

“You kiddin’ me? Of course I want to! I just didn’t want you to think-”

“I don’t,” Alix interrupted, knowing instinctively what he was going to say. “I don’t think that, not at all.”

He nodded his acknowledgement and returned to his prone position between her legs.

"Oh, by the way," he remarked nonchalantly, looking up with a positively sinful grin.

"You're gonna be cumming at least twice before we do anythin’ else."

Alix’s eyes must’ve looked like saucers.

“U-Uh,” she stammered, knowing beyond the shadow of a doubt now that her face was a deep crimson.

“One thing, before you start. Um…I’ve never…y’know…Not from this…or anything, really. I don’t even know if I can…”

Joe’s eyes were as round as hers as understanding set in.

“Wait, never?” he asked incredulously and Alix shook her head with a nervous titter, suddenly feeling extremely shy.

“Nope.”

Clayton had never been the type to care about her pleasure and the others had been similarly apathetic.

Truthfully, she hadn’t even known sex was supposed to be enjoyable until Lavinia from St. Mary’s had shared stories of her romps in the woods with one of the boys from St. Ignatius.

“I, uh, I hope that’s not a problem, Joey.”

Recovering from his momentary trance, Alix saw something flicker in the golden flecks of his eyes, like 24Karat gold dust…was it affection?

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, dollface,” he reassured her with an easy smile as he nudged her panties to the side once more.

“Just lay back and lemme make you feel good.”

Alix obeyed eagerly and he hooked his arms under her thighs, draping her legs over his shoulders before descending on her heat like some kind of starving animal.

“Oh fuck,” she whimpered, feeling a bit pathetic at the way a few well-placed laps of Joe’s tongue already had her head feeling light.

Tangling her fingers reflexively in his thick, lush brown hair, Alix swore she could feel him smiling as he devoured her, reveling in the way he was making her come undone in a way no one else had.

Minutes later, she was trembling. The assassin everyone was so in awe of was quivering like a leaf in the breeze at every broad stripe of Joe’s well-practiced tongue.

He knew what he was doing, that was for sure.

Her free hand gripping the sheets, she could feel the muscles in her stomach clenching, bracing for each wave of pleasure that Joe’s tongue sent rushing through her.

“Shit, you taste good,” Joe mumbled, greedily lapping at her core like a man starved, burying his tongue so deeply within her that Alix had to scrunch her eyes shut to keep from falling to pieces right then and there.

“So fuckin’ sweet for me, aren’t ya, Zees?”

“O-Oh God,” Alix gasped out, tugging at Joe's hair desperately.

The pooling warmth in her stomach was getting stronger, deeper, her legs trembling as the waves of pleasure began to build, filling up like a balloon seconds from bursting. “Joey, I-I think-"

Joe groaned in excitement, lapping steadily at her core, before beginning to suckle on her clit, causing her vision to flash momentarily white.

Alix let out a strangled cry, her back arching clear off the mattress and involuntarily thrusting her breasts into the air.

“Oh-Oh fuck, Joey,” she mewled, her voice carrying clear across the room as the dam broke. She tried to press her quivering thighs together, the overwhelming sensitivity like a tsunami of bliss completely flooding her senses, but Joe wasn’t done with her.

Not even close.

“Louder,” he urged as he coaxed her through her first orgasm, giving quick kitten licks to her most sensitive spot and teasing her slick entrance with a finger.

“C’mon, Zees, I wanna hear you.”

“Joey, if you keep this up, the whole hall is gonna hear me,” Alix half-sobbed, the pleasure so overwhelming that she could feel her vision swimming.

Joe pressed a soft kiss to her knee before slipping a second finger inside her, sending her keening his name so loudly that she was sure even the clerks at the concierge desk could hear.

“Good,” he affirmed, beginning to scissor his fingers inside her core as her breathing quickened to ragged, blissful gasps.

“Besides, we’re newlyweds, remember?”

He shot her a wink.

“We’re ‘sposed to be at it like rabbits.”

∆∆━━━━∆∆━━━∆∆━━━∆∆

Alix had always thought the phrase “seeing stars” was just an expression but after the third or fourth orgasm Joe had ripped out of her, she was pretty sure there were lights dancing before her eyes after all.

“You doin’ okay, Zees?” The paratrooper perked his head up from between her legs, the evidence of her arousal glistening on his chin.

His bangs were stuck to his forehead, the both of them covered in a sheen of sweat, but he looked as satisfied as she felt.

“You need a break or somethin’?”

Alix gave him a reassuring smile and shifted her still-trembling legs off of Joe’s shoulders.

“I’m good, Joey.”

He cocked his head and sat back on his heels, eyeing her inquisitively, a note of concern in his husky voice.

“You sure?”

Alix nodded.

“I promise.” She let out a shaky laugh. “I’m just taking a quick second to recover, that’s all.”

Satisfied with her answer, the paratrooper crawled up beside her, back against the headboard, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth as he searched the face beside him intently for a reaction.

“Pretty fuckin’ good, huh?”

Alix giggled.

“If you couldn’t tell from me screaming your name for however long it’s been, yes, it was ‘pretty fucking good’.”

Joe gave her a playful nudge with his shoulder.

“Just checkin’. Can’t leave Mrs. Liebgott unsatisfied on our honeymoon, y’know. What kinda husband would I be?”

Alix knew he was just joking but the reference still made something in her flutter with delight.

This paratrooper…This technician with the warm smile and the quick wit, who seemed to read her better than anyone else, he intrigued her like no one ever had.

He was an adventure, a revelation, an epiphany, everything she hadn’t known she’d been missing, all wrapped up into one charismatic person.

Feeling something stirring deep inside her again, Alix found herself gripped by a primal urge she couldn’t shake.

She needed him, all of him. Now.

Rolling over onto her side so that she was facing him completely, she could see the taut muscles of his thin, wiry frame, tensing like a panther as he looked at her.

How could he always read her mind?

Giving him a once-over, the spy glimpsed the same salacious shape straining against his underwear.

Leaning over, she began to toy with the waistband of his skivvies, causing Joe's hips to buck up involuntarily as her smooth fingertips dipped below.

“C’mon, Ziskeit,” Joe cajoled, those deep brown eyes full of unspoken pleas for release as Alix resumed kissing down his neck. “Don’t be a fuckin’ tease.”

“If I recall,” Alix murmured against his skin as she grazed her nails down his abs, making him inhale sharply.

“A certain person made me beg for a full five minutes…”

“Well that person's a fuckin’ idiot," Joe grunted desperately.

As he was speaking, Alix slid his skivvies off and took him into her mouth, delicately tracing the head with her tongue.

"And I'm sure he – Oh fuckin’ Christ!” Joe hissed, tangling a hand in her hair desperately to keep some self-control as she went about her work, taking him deeper into her throat.

“Fuck, I’m sure he knows better now."

Alix smirked, hollowing her cheeks and taking him still deeper, pushing him further down, savoring the taste of him, and she could feel his hips starting to buck.

“God, you’re fuckin’ perfect,” he growled but as she deep-throated him again and again, he released her hair, his hands hurriedly finding their way to her shoulders.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Zees,” he choked out, pushing her away gently and it only took that warning tone for her to release him at once with a lewd pop.

“You okay, Joey?” she asked, her turn to be concerned, and he laughed nervously.

“Uh…” he chuckled, sheepishly running a hand through his hair.

“I…I wasn’t gonna last too much longer, if you kept that up. That was… Christ, that was somethin’ fuckin’ else.”

Alix hummed appreciatively before swinging a leg over and straddling his lap.

“Can we try this then?” she murmured, ghosting her fingers up and down his strong arms.

"Jesus Christ," Joe whispered almost reverently from his half-propped position against the headboard, his heavily-lidded eyes roaming every inch of her nude form, still admiring her as though she was a priceless Caravaggio.

"You sure you're not a fuckin' dream or somethin'?"

He slowly reached out, his fingertips ghosting across the valley of her breasts in mesmerized disbelief, as though he was afraid she might disappear at any moment if he was too rough with her.

"I'm real, tesoro," Alix assured him, guiding his hand to squeeze the supple flesh, sending a flood of warmth through her and she could feel him twitch beneath her, prodding her inner thigh with his arousal.

“I promise, I’m real.”

Carding a hand through his hair, she captured him in a long, passionate kiss which he returned just as fervently, the pair moaning deeply into each other’s mouths as she sank down on his cock.

She gasped as he bottomed out, the slight burn filling her with ecstasy, and he groaned deeply.

“Oh fuck, you feel so good.”

Alix didn’t even have the words to reply. The feeling of fullness Joe supplied was unimaginably euphoric, blanking out her mind completely.

Relying on animal instinct alone, she began to roll her hips, rutting against him as desperate keens and gasped curses fell from both their lips like prayers.

Joe wrapped both arms around her waist, burying his face in her breasts with a deep, rumbling groan of ecstasy, gripping her to him as though she was a lifeline, the lifesaving driftwood to a drowning man.

“Madonna mia,” Alix breathed, the fervent motion of her hips stuttering momentarily at the feeling of him latching onto the sensitive skin of her nipple.

She rutted against him desperately, needing more and more of him, tugging on his hair in a silent plea for everything that only he could give her.

“Hey Ziskeit,” he murmurs seconds later, his voice husky with arousal, and she could feel her walls constricting around him tighter and tighter. “Goddammit, I think I’m gonna cum soon...”

Her pace twice as insistent now, Alix bore down on him, Joe’s dog tags jingling musically against her chest as she rode him into oblivion.

“Fuck, Joey, I need you," she murmured, chanting the last three words like a prayer as she felt herself teetering on a precipice for another time.

“Don’t say that," Joe gasped out, his grip around her hips so insistent that she was sure bruises would form later. "Don't fuckin' say that unless you mean it."

He was bucking up against her too, matching her rhythm, every stroke so intense in her core that she was left a whimpering mess.

“I mean it, Joey,” Alix moaned as she pressed his face to her chest, "God, I fucking mean it."

“Oh shit, Jesus Christ!” Panic and pleasure twisted Joe’s handsome features, his voice raising frantically. “Uh, Zees, I- FUCK!”

His warning tone reached a fever pitch just as his orgasm jolted through him, ripping a guttural sound from his throat and leaving him slack-jawed and panting as his cock pulsed.

Alix was seconds behind him, burying her face into his shoulder with a broken sob as another orgasm overwhelmed her, plunging her instantly into white-hot bliss as he held her, murmuring praises in English and what she assumed to be German.

Joe lolled his head back against the headboard, his murmuring voice farther and farther away now. Alix was too fucked out to think anymore and she found herself slumping over on top of his chest like a ragdoll as she drifted off.

∆∆━━━━∆∆━━━∆∆━━━∆∆

Surfacing from sleep around 1am to find Joe still buried comfortably inside her, the pair of them still tangled in each other’s arms, Alix gently eased herself upright, wanting to take in the scene for a moment, not knowing if she’d ever have the chance to again.

Was this a one-night stand? God, she hoped not. Was it her imagination or was there something more between them?

A spark? No…a flame. More than a flame. An inferno.

In one night, Joe had shown her an entirely different world, an entirely different life than the one she’d been trapped in before.

How could she just go back to normal now, as if she hadn’t been completely and totally changed? As if her entire world hadn’t been rocked by one cocky paratrooper with puppy-dog eyes?

Their clothes, still damp from the sleet, lay discarded in messy bunches along the carpet like autumn leaves.

Thinking back on it, Alix couldn't remember how long it had been since they'd begun but the chill of the remaining frost that had coated them both at the start was long gone by now, replaced with the sticky-sweetness and feverish heat of sweat and sex.

Joe wasn't like Clay or any of the handful of guys she'd been with before, she mused.

They'd all been selfish lovers, entirely focused on chasing their own wants while denying her hers. She was merely a vessel for them to get off, nothing more than a doll to be used and discarded once her purpose had been fulfilled.

In one night, Joe had treated her like the complete opposite.

He was still as full of fire in the bedroom as he was out of it, but for once, it was only for Alix to see. He had been chasing her all night but not in the way the others were. For the first time in her life, someone seemed hungry to please her. The thought was so foreign that it sent another shiver of pleasure through her.

Even in his sleep, Joe’s breathing hitched at the sensation of her walls contracting around him and she couldn’t help but giggle into her hand.

“Whassofunny?” Joe mumbled, cracking an eye open.

“Nothing, cucciolo,” Alix assured him, running a hand through his sex-tousled hair. “Go back to sleep. You need it.”

“I fuckin’ don’t,” Joe insisted doggedly, starting to sit up, but when Alix started to lift herself off of him, he hissed and shook his head.

“Not yet, Ziskeit,” he pleaded, his words still running together a bit in his after-sex haze. “A little bit longer.”

“Then go back to sleep and I'll stay put,” Alix countered.

“Can’t,” Joe yawned. “Can’t sleep much normally, ‘cept after…y’know.”

He made a vague gesture to their situation and Alix cocked an eyebrow, dark eyes sparkling with mirth.

“If that was your way of trying to come onto me again,” she commented drolly. “I appreciate the creativity. I don’t think ‘Fuck me to sleep’ is a line I’ve heard before.”

“Wasn’t a line,” Joe responded with a shrug. “I really can’t sleep for shit."

His warm brown eyes were boring into hers again and she could feel the playful chuckle he was trying to suppress in his voice when he added slyly,

“But y’know, just outta curiosity… if it had been a line, would it’ve worked…?”

She was now hyper-aware of his hands resting gently on her bare back as he held her, the roughness of his calloused fingertips sending sparks dancing deliciously across her soft skin.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, flyboy,” she teased with a soft roll of her hips, but the slight catch of desire in her voice when she felt him stiffen betrayed her.

"Shit," Joe grunted at the sudden movement, pupils blown with desire. "You're such a fuckin' minx, y'know that?"

"Am I?" Alix blinked innocently before clenching the muscles in her core around his cock in a vise grip, making him hiss. "I hadn't noticed."

"Okay that's it," Joe hissed, the rasp in his slightly nasal-tenor coming out as almost a primal growl. Keeping one hand steady on her back, he pulled out and flipped her over, pinning her firmly underneath him.

Alix sunk her nails into his back to keep herself from moaning needily as he buried himself within her once again, rougher this time, the heavenly ache between her legs as he bottomed out causing a small whimper to escape.

“Gotta be quiet now, dollface,” he mumbled, crashing his lips to hers to keep himself from groaning out loud.

“People’re probably sleeping. Like we would be if you weren’t so goddamn gorgeous.”

“Such a charmer, cucciolo, I- Oh fuck!”

Working up speed, Joe began pounding into her mercilessly, seemingly determined to make her pay for teasing him so cruelly earlier, and Alix wrapped her legs around him, craving him impossibly closer to her.

“Tesoro, fuck, I think–” she whimpered from beneath him. “I think I might-”

“Yeah?” he grunted, the vigor of his pace only increasing.

Thinking back on it, his dog tags had been clinking so loudly against his Star of David pendant that Alix hadn’t even heard the door open.

“Real sorry I took so long, Pops,” a soft-spoken but familiar voice rang from the entrance. “But Doc said-”

Shifty Powers, the sweet-faced trooper who’d waved to Joe in the lobby earlier, was now frozen dead in his tracks, his eyes dinner-plate wide as the tall glass of water he’d been carrying slid from his hands, shattering into several glistening chunks on the floor with a CRACK!

He was beet-red but rooted to the spot, his horrified gaze dropping down to the shattered glass at his feet and then back up to the still-intertwined Alix and Joe like he was tied to the tracks of an oncoming train.

“Shit,” he mumbled, stammering out excuses and apologies, half to himself and half to the couple as he immediately dropped to his knees and began busying himself with trying to collect the glass shards. “I- This-this isn’t…and y’all aren’t…But I thought-”

Alix lunged for the comforter, which she hurriedly wrapped around herself like an oversized towel.

“Don’t worry about the glass,” she reassured him kindly, his eyes glued firmly to the ground. “We’ll take care of it. You just get where you need to go.”

“A-Are y’all sure?" He was speaking entirely to the carpet, head dipped to avoid any more accidental views.

If it hadn't been such a humiliating situation, Alix might've giggled.

"I wouldn’t wanna cause y’all any trouble.”

“It isn’t any trouble,” Alix insisted. “Isn’t that right, Joe?”

Joe made a skeptical noise in the back of his throat, somewhere between a cough and a grunt, but the glare she shot him could’ve wilted even fake flowers and he finally relented.

“Yeah sure,” Liebgott replied, dulling the sharpness of the irritation in his tone. “No trouble at all.”

“Well alright, if y’all are sure…” Shifty mumbled, his face still a bright cherry red. “I’ll, uh, I guess I’ll just see y’all around. I'm just gonna-"

With that, he fled the room like a bat out of hell, leaving a disgruntled Joe and a mortified Alix in his wake.

"God, I cannot believe that just happened." Alix squeaked into her palms, wishing that the Earth would just swallow her whole.

Even the exquisite soreness between her thighs wasn't worth that.

Joe meanwhile, was muttering to himself as he stepped over the glass shards strewn along a small patch of carpet.

"Going somewhere?" Alix asked with a cocked eyebrow.

“Yeah," Joe grumbled. "To latch and lock that goddamn door.”

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

Text

Portrait of a Dangerous Man🎨4

Warnings: (series) non-consent sex and rape; slow creep; cucking; (this chapter) only plot hehe

This is dark!mob!Clark Kent x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: Your dream of having your work hung in an art show comes true but your first buyer is not all he seems to be.

Note: I’m at my tipping point, I swear. I’m dealing with everything in our household, new bed (delayed delivery yay!), cleaning, cooking, dog walking, and working. My only escape are my fics and this weekend I’m telling everyone to fuck off so I can do the writeathon... but sorry for the rant, enjoy more Clark.

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Wednesday trickled by like sand in a glass. You could hardly keep your eyes open as you typed away and a double espresso shot was the only thing that saw you through your hours at the gallery. Vanessa was excited for her next event and already asking after some new pieces from you. You promised her some from your storage unit to stave her off as you held in your yawns.

You collapsed into bed that night beside Marcus. He complained about his day until he drifted off and you followed suit shortly after. You awoke with a decision, the echoes of your boyfriend’s gripes in your head and heart. You hated how miserable his job made him, how dull your own was. It felt like there was nothing else but the almighty dollar.

You called Clark after an email to Jim, your nerves alight in anticipation of the disgruntled reply. It didn’t matter. You were done. You didn’t need to worry about the all caps messages and curt zoom calls.

“Hey,” Clark picked up, he sounded out of breath.

“Oh, hey, sorry, it’s me,” you swiveled in your chair, “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“Nope, just getting in a work out,” he grunted, “you’re not bugging me if you have good news for me.”

“I think… I do,” you forced out, “I just sent in my resignation.”

“Mmm, you don’t sound… happy,” he hummed.

“I am, I think I’m just processing it,” you replied, “I said I’d let you know today so I’m letting you know.”

“Well, how soon can you be here?” he asked.

“Today?”

“Sure, why not?”

“I guess, I could leave as soon as you want me,” you said.

“I’ll send a car,” he intoned, “I’ll give the driver your number, if you don’t mind.”

“Yeah,” your voice almost squeaked, “I can do that.”

“Alright, sweetheart, see ya soon.”

The line cut out and you lowered your phone slowly. You stared at Outlook and the new email icon along the taskbar. You closed the laptop and stood. You could worry about the fallout later, right now, you had to get ready for another day of painting.

🎨

It was starting to feel like deja vu every time you arrived at Clark’s house. You got out and thanked the drive, Jeremy, before he drove off. The doors opened before you got to the top of the steps and your host was already dressed in the same outfit he wore for each session. His hair was neat but his beard was even thicker than before.

“I think you can tell I’m a little antsy to start,” he chuckled, “how are you, sweetheart?”

That pet name caught in your mind again. It might just be a habit of his. Nothing more than an absent-minded word.

“Me too, honestly,” you smiled, “but I have a weird question for you.”

“Ask away,” he said as he walked with you through the foyer.

“The beard… you want that in the portrait or--”

“Oh, ha, yeah,” he ran his fingers along his jawline, “I guess I wasn’t thinking. You’re the artist, what do you think?”

“Well, erm, either way is fine,” you said, “I was just… wondering. I’m not even close to starting on, uh, you yet. I mean, right now I’m just working on the background and basic shapes.”

“I’ll let you make the call when you get there,” he said, “say the word and it’s gone.”

“Alright,” you came to the top of the stairs and he pointed you ahead of him.

He followed you as you entered and you went about filling the jar with water and resituating the set up. He sat as you mixed and chose your brush. You climbed the ladder and peered around the canvas at him. He took on the same pose as usual and you dipped the bristles into the pigment. You could make a happy life of this.

🎨

Clark shifted and cleared his throat. You rolled your wrist and glanced back over at him as you drew your hand back from the canvas. He braced the chair and pushed himself up.

“How about a break?” he asked as he shook out his arms, “back’s a bit stiff.”

“Sure,” you said, “I think I could sit down for a moment.”

You took a step down the rung of the ladder but your toe slipped and suddenly your palette was against your chest. You slid down backwards as Clark rushed over and barely kept you from toppling the entire thing over. You laughed at yourself as he righted you and looked down at your paint-streaked shirt.

“Jesus,” you muttered.

“You okay?” he asked as he kept his hand on your upper arm, “be careful.”

“Yeah, I’m-- clumsy, is all,” you carefully pulled away and set down your brush and palette.

“Come on, sit,” he pulled up the stool and planted it before you, “take a minute.”

As you sat, he stretched his arms over his head and then out to the sides. He paced around the other side of the table, long strides as he worked the cramps from his long legs. He stopped and came up to play with a brush as you leaned an elbow on the table.

“Well, I did have another offer for you,” he said, “I was thinking of waiting but might as well ask now.”

“Oh?” you raised your brows curiously.

He swished a slender brush in the air then lowered it and picked at the tip.

“I’m having a get together on Saturday, some business friends and the like,” he said as he set the brush back with the rest, “it won’t be work. You’ve earned some time off. You can even bring the boyfriend.”

“Saturday?” you pondered, “I’m usually at the gallery on Saturdays.”

“It would be great networking,” he said, “and I already told all my friends about you. They’re excited to see your work. It will almost be like a viewing and it’s only right the artist is there.”

“I could make it work,” you mulled, “Marcus would love to come back.” You snickered, “he loves this place.”

“It’s a nice house,” he said casually, “a bit big for one person… hence, the party.”

“I’ll put it in my calendar,” you stood and slid your palette closer and cleaned it off to remix the mess of paints.

“Great,” he said as he rounded the table and brushed close to you, “it’ll be nice to look at a mug besides mine, huh?”

You laughed as you squeezed out the dark paint and nodded, “ha, sure.”

🎨

The rest of your week was spent much the same. Jeremy drove you to Clark’s and you went up to the studio to continue your work between small talk and silences that grew so thick you had to break them with mindless comments. It wasn’t enough to focus on the path of your brush as the man tugged at your attention.

Marcus was excited when you told him about the party. He raved about how he needed to let loose, about how much expensive alcohol he was going to drink, and the awesome backflip he was gonna do into the pool. You reminded him, he hadn’t done anything like that since college but he swore he could still do it.

You didn’t share the sentiment. You were anxious. You were flattered to be invited but despite what Clark said, it still felt like work. His friends were going to be there and he apparently was trying to sell them on your art.

You didn’t realise until after you hit send on your email, but you put your livelihood in this man’s hands. A man, you reminded yourself, who was little more than a stranger.

On Friday, a day you were thankfully not called to the mansion to teeter on the ladder and paint, the buzzer rang and drew you off the couch from amid your YouTube binge. The man on the speaker called back that he had a delivery and you let him up. You took the box from him, the thick silver ribbon giving away the sender even before you could read the tag.

Inside you found a black dress with little gemstones set into the fabric like stars in the sky. It was nicer than anything you’d ever owned before and a pair of silver shoes were tucked in beneath the outfit. You took the shoes from the tissue paper and something else shifted in the bottom.

You reached in and revealed a velvet box from the depths of overzealous stuffing. You opened the lid and found a simple chain of diamonds. You gaped in disbelief. They were real. The fake ones didn’t look so nice.

You phone chimed before you could even think to call Clark. It was as if he could see you. You answered and your voice warbled pathetically.

“Hi, I was just gonna call,” you touched your throat as it constricted.

“Yeah? I got the notification that it was delivered,” he said, “you like it?”

“It’s too much,” you gulped out, “really, I can’t--”

“I want you to look nice. I want you to feel good and have a good time,” he said, “I feel like you’ve been working so hard. You need a chance to just let it all go.”

“Look, I…” you were uncertain how to handle it. It was more than generosity but you felt wrong denying it as much as you did accepting it, “I’ve never had a boss buy me diamonds. At least let me give those back.”

“Boss?” he mused on the word, “I suppose, but you gotta dress the part now, sweetheart. You’re gonna rub shoulders with a lot of rich dicks like me. Pardon my language.”

“I didn’t realise it was such an upscale thing,” you put the velvet box down and turned to sit on the couch beside the large box. You played with the silver ribbon and chewed your lip.

“Sweetheart, it’s nothing, you got this,” he said, “trust me, if you can win me over, my friends will be child’s play.”

“Mhmmm,” you stared at the tv mindlessly, “Clark?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are you doing all this?”

There was silence and you heard him sigh then a subtle metallic click.

“Because I can. And you’re a talented artist. Didn’t all the big painters used to have patrons back in the day? You know, Da Vinci and all that.”

“Sure, I guess--”

“Look, sweetheart, I’m glad you like the dress, I gotta go.”

He hung up abruptly and you turned your phone to stare at it in confusion. You were starting to get a bad feeling and that little voice in that back of your head, that little sabotaging bitch, whispered in your ear. No, you wouldn’t let your self-doubt get the best of you this time. You either grabbed this chance or you spent the rest of your life doing menial work and painting the world as it passed you by.

🎨

Friday night, Marcus couldn’t stop rambling about the party the next day. You just couldn’t get over the tickle in your chest, the same one you got before job interviews and doctor’s appointments. You were on edge, even as you spent your stress on him, your body writhing against his as you panted and pouted. It had been a while since you fucked. All the work and the stress had just let things slip past you. Maybe with your new gig, you could get back to those early days when it was all you wanted to do.

You slept soundly. You blamed the sex and the momentous week. You got up, had a lazy brunch time meal, and beat Marcus at MarioKart several times over before he convinced you it was time to get ready.

You pulled on the gifted outfit after fighting with your make-up and hair. You gave a little tada spin to Marcus and he lifted his brow as he tried to figure out his tie.

“Wow, where’d you get that?” he purred, “fuck, let’s be late.”

He ran his hands over your hips as you neared him and fixed his tie for him. You giggled and planted a kiss on his lips.

“Jeremy’s on his way,” you warned, “I don't wanna bite the hand that feeds.”

“Oh, and it feeds you well,” Marcus chirped, “you think he’ll let me have a spin in the McClaren?”

“Maybe, but I wouldn’t. I don’t need to scrape you off the side of the road,” you took your phone as the screen lit up, “come on, he’s here.”

“Fuck, babe, really, you’re gonna make me follow you out of here with your ass looking like that?”

“Stop,” you tittered, “you know, there might be more sellers tonight?”

“Oh yeah? I guess you’ll be paying a mortgage soon enough.”

“Me?” you scoffed.

“Sure, I’ll be your sugar baby,” he kidded.

“Well, baby is accurate,” you teased as you stepped onto the elevator, “please, just behave.”

🎨

You were surprised to see Vanessa at the party but reassured to see a familiar face. Clark had been distracted by his other guests and you did your best to mingle, letting Marcus take the lead until he was distracted by another guest’s Rolex and started asking too many questions. If you did start selling art to these kinds, you suspected you’d be paying for a lot of overpriced brands. That was a worry for another time.

You stood with Vanessa and a man she introduced you to. Bruce Wayne was tall and his dark-hair was combed back neatly as he spoke over the glass of wine in his hand. You were bored of the Monet-Manet argument, one you’d heard a million times from the stubborn gallery owner, and you were at your limit of socialisation.

You excused yourself and put down your unfinished drink on a table. You looked around but couldn’t see Marcus anywhere. The last you saw him, he was with Clark but you couldn’t find him either. You frowned and wandered between the pairs and trios gabbing around the room.

Just past the bar, you looked back and still no sign of either man. You huffed and your heels clicked into the foyer and to the stairs. You’d go to the studio and sit for a moment and collect yourself. You just needed to take a breath.

You climbed the stairs slowly, the din of the party floating up behind you. You came to the top but stopped as your eyes were drawn to a pair of open doors opposite the studio. You neared and stayed against the wall as you peeked inside. Marcus admired an old-six shooter and spun the barrel.

“You got everything, man, I swear,” you hid behind the door frame and listened.

“Eh, it’s all just things,” Clark replied, “I bought that from an auctioneer down in Texas. A verified antique but it just hangs here. Not good for much but looking at it.”

“Dude, what I wouldn’t do to live here? Have cool guns and even cooler cars? Shit, you know how fucked it is that my lady is making bank and I’m over here with my dick in my hands? I mean, I’m proud of her but… I mean, if I could get paid thousands for drawing, I would’ve tried to learn.”

“She’s good. Dedicated,” Clark remarked, “she’s special. Worth more than money.”

Marcus hummed and you heard the barrel click back into the place. Neither of the men spoke as you heard something shift and Clark cleared his throat. Subtle footsteps moved around the room and you pressed yourself to the wall. You should leave and let them talk but you couldn’t help but be curious.

“Isn’t she?” Clark prodded.

“Y-yeah, but… I don’t know. I just wish I had more,” Marcus said, “I probably sound like a chump, huh?”

“You can’t have it all,” Clark replied.

“Says the guy who can buy anything and everything,” Marcus moped.

“Oh?” Clark intoned, “so… how about it then? Fifty thousand.”

“For what?” Marcus chuckled nervously.

“Her,” Clark answered.

“Her-- I… my girlfriend?” he sputtered.

“If money can buy me anything, that’s what I want,” Clark said firmly, “it’s a one time offer… whether or not you agree to it, I’m gonna fuck her.”

You skin crawled at his words and you covered your mouth in disgust and shock. You inched closer to the door to hear better as you waited for the response.

“One hundred,” Marcus said.

“Seventy-five,” Clark countered.

“That’s my girlfriend, dude,” Marcus hissed.

“And yet you’re haggling with me over her. Eighty.”

You tore yourself from the wall before you could hear anymore. You felt hollow and heavy all at once. Your eyes were glossy as you scurried over to the studio doors and pushed the left one open. You unhooked the diamond necklace and tossed it onto the paint-stained palette and rolled up your brushes.

You stormed over blindly to the easel and pushed it over. It clattered to the floor loudly but you were already out the door and halfway down the stairs. You gripped your clutch and the bundle of paintbrushes tightly as you continued on outside and the blurred outlines of luxury cars passed you by.

You stomped up the long drive in your heels as you flicked away tears and pulled out your phone. You knew it was too good to be true. Any of it; your art, Clark, Marcus. You weren’t good for anyone unless they could get something out of you.

#clark kent #dark clark kent #dark!clark kent #clark kent x reader #fic #series #dark fic #dark!fic #superman #portrait of a dangerous man #dc #dcu #mob au #au #mob!au

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roscgcld · 4 years ago

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RYOMEN SUKUNA || we will meet again

anime: jujutsu kaisen

characters: ryomen sukuna

pronouns: she/her

proof read: N/A

"Promise me...that one day, we will meet again."

Back in the day, when Jujutsu Sorcerers were at their prime, lived a Cursed Spirit who goes by the name Sukuna. Once a human Sorcerer himself, he had somehow managed to create himself into the Jujutsu world's most feared Cursed Spirit. He was dubbed 'the King of Curses' and rained terror over the human and jujutsu world; with super natural powers and a sadistic personality to match the title. Everyone who has crossed him shook in absolute fear.

That was, of course, before he met a particular princess.

She was a beautiful woman; the daughter of one of the then king’s favourite concubines. Born with the alluring beauty of her mother, and a heart of gold, it was hard to ignore her presence when she walked into a room.

She was brought up in the palace, where she was given the title as princess; but she will never sit on the throne of the kingdom her father rules over. As only the King’s wife is allowed to bear the heir that will sit on the throne. She didn’t mind, she had never desired such power to begin with. Even if she was going to be married off to one of the many foreign princes asking for her hand in marriage, she didn’t care about titles.

Since she was never destined to sit on the throne, her father had given her quite the freedom to do as she pleases. With all her free time, she tends to use it connect to the people of her kingdom; helping the needy during their time of need, always purchasing things from the local vendors and merchants that have travelled long and far. She is beloved by the people, and shines a light on the royal family that makes them more human instead of the godly image that is projected onto the royal family.

Anyone who meets her would fall in love for her - and apparently not even Cursed Spirits were the exception.

The princess have always love spending her time out in nature - horse back riding with a few of the guards in training, swimming in the river that her brothers love to hunt by, learning about the different plants and herbs from the doctors that go out foraging for medical herbs. So it came to the surprise to no one when Sukuna stumbled onto the princess by accident on the riverbed.

Sukuna had not expected to see any human about as he goes about his walk deep in the woods. It was one of those rare moments to himself where he does not necessarily have anything he needed to do on hand, and also the few rare moments where he does not have a mob of sorcerers up his ass. He was just enjoying the sounds of nature and the soft wind blowing against his kimono when he heard what sounded like a human's laughter coming from the river near by. At first he was curious, since no human usually ventures this deeply into the woods. At the same time, he had wanted to ignore it, since humans are just a pain in the ass to deal with even if they can't see you. However, there was something so alluring about that soft giggle that had him wanting to see just who this annoying brat was. So, without even him realising what was happening, his feet quietly walked towards the river and before he knew it, he had pushed the last branch aside to peek over at the river bed curiously. Sitting before him on a flat rock by the river was a woman with flowing hair, her small feet dipped into the running water below as her hands reached forward to play with a few of the fishes that swam by. The pink fabric of her furisode laid behind her like a pink halo, showcasing the intricate sakura trees and flowers that were sown into the fabric. The aura around her was relaxed and peaceful, and somehow just seeing her brings him a sense of peace. As if she could sense his stare, the woman suddenly pauses before she turns to look over her shoulder curiously; bright and seemingly glowing eyes meeting his red ones head on. Sukusa felt the world around him come to a stop as the eyes of the princess before him trapped him on the spot, causing him to loose all train of thought from before. "Oh - were you wanting to sit here too?"

"Huh?"

The casual way she just asked him that question definitely threw him off. The woman actually just lets out a soft laugh at his dry answer. "It's alright - we can share the space if you don't mind." She commented, a teasing tone taking over her voice as she patted the free spot beside her. "I promise I don't bite."

If she had known just who this man was, she might actually understand how ironic her sentence was. But Sukuna decided not to comment on it as he quietly makes his way towards her, sitting down at the spot beside the princess whose eyes had already returned to the river before her. "The water feels extra nice today. And there is more fishes then usual." She conversed with the man casually, causing Sukuna to wonder if she is pretending to be as dense as she is right now. "How are you so calm right now? I mean, do you see a 10ft tall human with four arms every day or what? Your reaction is sort of dull."

The princess pauses in thought as she thinks, looking far too relaxed by his side. "I have always been able to see...odd things." She started off with a soft hum, glancing over at the man beside her with a soft smile. "I have asked people around me before, and after realising that I am the only one who can see them, I decided to ignore them." She admitted, running her dry hand through her hair softly. "But if I am being honest, this is the first time one has actually ever spoken to me."

"Well, I'm not the everyday curses." He said with a slightly proud tune in his voice, to which the princess beside him looks up at the taller man with interest. "Every day curses are small things, I am basically what people in my world call a Special Grade Curse." He continued, and for some reason, when he saw how her eyes were staring up at in him awe, he looked away with a light blush on his face. He doesn't even know what was about her that drags out these human-like emotions from him - he had never felt like this ever before.

"Special Grade Curse?" She echoes back with curiosity, to which the man beside her just nods softly as he leans back to rest on the free arms, the other two crossed across his chest. Suddenly she turned to face him, her eyes shining so brightly with excitement that it caused Sukuna to squint a little. "Can you explain just what you are to me a little more?"

One question was all it took to have Sukuna falling, and if he was being honest - he actually didn’t mind spending so much time on this little human. From sharing stolen nights in her bedroom in the royal palace, to sneaking out to just go to the riverbed where the met for the first time; they even spent time just wandering about his domain. It was actually during these small explorations of the world around them that created a special bond between the two.

For her, he was her escape from the restrictive and repetitive routine of royal life. For him, she was his utopia, a person he can turn to whenever he feels like just killing everyone around him. Soon though, these emotions sprouted into something deeper and more personal. It was jarring at first, falling for a human - but he knows that she was worth it all.

He remembers the way her eyes shone brightly with a constant look of innocence in them, yet she is mature and realistic enough to know that not everything is sunshine and rainbows. He remembers the way she carries herself, her warm and loving smile, how content he felt whenever she wrapped her arms around him. He loves the feeing of her soft hair that tumbles around her face in soft waves, how it feels like silk whenever he runs his fingers through them. How with just one glance, she can fill the void in his heart that he didn't know existed.

Yet they were never set to happy ending to begin with.

It was during just what started off like a normal day when the town the princess was in was suddenly invaded by a rival kingdom’s army. Their goal was to conquer and take over the kingdom with any means necessarily; meaning that the royal family had to go.

Uraume had entered his hideout, panting with wide eyes as they told Sukuna of the town now plunging into chaos. Within seconds the Cursed Spirit was up and sprinting towards the royal palace, great fear and anger gripping him from within. Entering through the destroyed doors of the grand palace, he ignored the screams of anguish of the others around him as he ran straight towards one of the buildings - the building where the royal sleeping chambers were located.

When he finally found her room, he felt like his heart was ripped out of his chest at the sight before him.

The once beautifully crafted shoji doors with panels decorated in a beautiful forest scene now laid in tatters, the furniture inside looking as if though a huge scuffle had happened. Rushing deeper into the room, he felt his heart sank to its stomach when he saw the splatters of blood leading towards the small room where the princess would sleep in.

Entering the back room, his red eyes scanned over the many splatters of blood about the room, the red handprints of the princess smeared across the ornate walls whilst the body of the princess laid on her futon; the sheets now soaked in blood. "No, no, no.." Sukuna managed out in horror as he quickly made his way to his lover's side, pulling her bloodied body into his arms immediately. "Flower, open your eyes. Please.."

Slowly her eyelids begin to move, and Sukuna felt his heart break when he saw how her now dull and tired eyes shifted to look up at him, taking a moment to truly process just who he was. "I'm so sorry..." Sukuna mumbles out through a small voice as he pulls her closer, trying his hardest to press his hands against the gashing wound on her abdomen. Since the wound was inflicted by a non-sorcerer, there was no trace of cursed magic on her; meaning that there was no way he can save her to begin with. "I-If only I had known..."

"Shh...it's okay.." The princess whispered out in a soft but pained tone, her bloody hand reaching up to cup his tattoo cheek ever so softly. The familiar touch brought another wave of emotion through Sukuna as he tries to blink back his tears, pulling her closer to his chest as he shifted his posture so she was sitting in his lap. He barely even acknowledge his own kimono that was slowly being soaked in blood. "Y-You didn't know this was going to happen...no one did...don't blame yourself..."

With watery red eyes Sukuna marvelled at how even though she was on death's doorstep, she still tried to put on a smile for his sake. "I'm so sorry..." Sukuna manages through a pained tone, tears now sliding down his face in thick streams whilst the woman just gave him a loving smile, resting her head on his shoulder. "Don't be.." She mumbles softly, forcing the man to look down at her as she gave him the same smile that had him falling for her from the beginning. "You know that...it takes more than this to get rid of me.."

The teasing words caused Sukuna to let out a soft and pained laugh, remembering the times where he would tell her how annoying she was whenever she would cling onto him and tease him relentlessly. He would trade anything to go back to those moments once more. "Brat.." He manages through his silent sobs, to which the woman just lets out a soft laugh as her fingers slowly traced along his features. For a few moments it was just silence, but the next time she spoke, Sukuna knew that the end was coming.

"Promise me...that one day, we will meet again."

"I promise, my love." Sukuna mumbles back quietly, resting his forehead against hers when he noticed how much effort it takes for her to blink. "No matter how long it takes, I will wait for you." He told her firmly as he presses a loving kiss on her forehead. "No matter how long it takes.." She echoes quietly, to which Sukuna just press a loving kiss on her head just as he felt her soft hand slowly slide down his chest, falling limply on her side.

For a moment Sukuna just held her against him, quietly crying into her hair. His entire world was in his arms, and just like that she was taken away from him. From that sadness came anger, and he soon found himself with the deep desire to crush whoever took her away from him.

Thus started the true rein of terror under the King of Curses, his anger fueling him to chase for bigger goals. Whilst he strive to rid of this world of dirty humans who took his flower away from her, he kept the vow that they promised one another - that they will wait for the other no matter how long it takes.

Because he had promised you so, and he’d do anything to keep that promise.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen anime #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x erader #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk sukuna #ryomen sukuna imagine #ryomen sukuna imagines #anime fanfic

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the-apprentice-lia · 3 years ago

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hi, i'm in love with u. seriously, you got some real talent! also, i'm here to make a request, excuse me~~ can you write the main 6 and the mc in some sort of a date..? let's say it's their day, maybe it's been a year since they're together and the main 6 prepared a special day to the mc, plsss? thanks 🖤

hiii!! wait come back, i love you too!! thank you so much, i’m so glad you enjoy my writing!☺️ i’m honestly relieved at this headcanon since i’ve been writing so much angst so thank you! i don’t think i’d have been able to write a piece that would break my heart again!!

the main 6 on their one year anniversary with mc

asra

• let’s clear something up really quickly: asra’s the most romantic person you’ll ever meet. aside from maybe nadia. but this ain’t about her (for now). they’re 100% the type to leave you roses lying around the house with sweet little love notes, compose you magical poetry that makes the entire room smell of ambrosia and only unfurls when you’ve had a terrible day, and drop kisses to any part of you they’re able to reach during the day. so, for your one year anniversary? oh, get ready.

• i can see asra actually asking one of the arcana for the temporary use of their realm, (bonus if he says they’re free to use the magic shop while you two are on your date, and double bonus if a wandering customer who doesn’t take note of the ‘we’re closed’ sign is met with cunning, tapered amaranthine eyes, and a sly, vulpine smile.) and using his magic to enhance the familiar setting even more. he’s probably spent months planning this, ensuring everything’s absolutely perfect on the recurrence of day he first pledged his love to you.

• asra’s not there next to you when you awaken, so you call for him as soft morning sunlight filters through the window, falling across your empty bed and your summons echo through the deserted store. he’s obviously closed it for the day since you’ve slept in, and as you stumble towards the kitchen, you stop as you notice the new outfit laid carefully out on your shared desk, with a note lying beside it.

• “follow me to where you first met me through the palace fountains.” you take in the painstakingly-calligraphied note with a soft smile. asra’s hand-writing is… questionable at best, and barely-legible scribbles at worst, and this note has the prettiest handwriting you’ve seen. the little ‘I’ at the bottom of the note tells you where you need to go, and you grin as you rush to get ready.

• as you pay more attention to the outfit, a soft smile crosses your face. the beautifully put-together ensemble (asra has impeccable fashion sense, fight me) is in your favourite colour, and you sprint to the bath-chamber just so you can put it on sooner. when you finally emerge, you meet your own eyes in the mirror with a beam. it fits you delightfully, outlining the shape of your body and falling perfectly, the fabric looking as if it’s made just for you. you give a little twirl in the mirror with a raw burst of laughter; you not only look and feel beautiful, this is asra’s gift to you and you couldn’t be happier in it.

• finally finished, you follow the trail of magic asra’s left— a shimmering, iris-purple trail that’s obviously reflective of his aura— to where a final gift waits for you, with a carefully-scrolled note left behind it. “open me when you’ve found our spot,” it reads, and you grin at asra’s layers of planning. it means so much to you that he cares about you so much, truly.

• you let your eyes flutter shut, attuning yourself only to the unique aura of the magician’s realm. you know the world is slowly falling away around you, and as you open your eyes again, asra stands before you with the biggest smile on his face. his eyes are twinkling and you know, in that moment, that you’d follow your lover to the ends of the earth.

• it’s the lake where you first entered the magician’s realm to visit asra. painted in the fiery-amber hues of an eternal sunset, the amaranthine sky stretches and ripples before you endlessly, fish jumping between the reeds. they sway gently in the breeze and stretch away from the marigolden reflection of the sun-setting sky on the lake, bleeding in an amethyst kaleidoscope into an electric blue that you long to slip your fingers through. it almost looks as if it would feel like silk.

• “mc, you’ve found me!” comes his teasing voice as he sweeps you up in his arms. he kisses you deeply, before stepping aside to let you take in the picnic he’s set up near the water’s edge. well, picnic in the most basic sense of the word, you think as you look in wonder around you. asra’s set up a beautiful array of coloured blankets, fairy lights hovering in the air all around you. he’s enchanted the glowing orbs to revolve slowly around the two of you, and you find yourself falling even more deeply in love with the beautiful person in front of you.

• after the magical evening in the magician’s realm, you give your fellow arcana his domain back as asra’s hand in yours pulls you through the fabric of the realms and you’re standing back in your shop.

• when you waken in the morning, after your (practically non-existent;) lovely sleep, you find it’s long past the time that the two of you usually decide to open the store. again, asra’s broken duties (which in and of itself is a great feat?!) simply to spend time with the love of their life. you show your appreciation with extra cuddles that he accepts with a sleepy smile, his warm and utterly contented aura mingling with yours and making your morning even better.

nadia

• okay she’s probably tied with asra in the romance department. she just can’t help it! gifts have always been her love-language, even when, only known as the youngest satrinava princess, the only meaningful gifts she used to be able to give were the gifts she made herself— intricate devices, levers and pulleys in the latest fashion that wax and wane with the sun so that your plants never want for any light— you name it, she could have, and probably had before, made it. so, when she was young, since she was so insecure and unsure of herself, gifts were the only way she was ever able to show affection.

• now, of course, she’ll move you close to her wherever you are with a gentle hand around your waist, press little kisses to your cheeks or forehead, pull you to her and press a soft kiss to your lips— no, your beloved never fails to show you just how much you mean to her, just how much she loves you. however… she does love to see the berry-red blush spread across your face at her lavish gifts, the small, adorable “thank you, nadi,” she’s certain to get. she also absolutely lives for doesn’t mind the thank you hugs.

• and so, the first thing you see as you awaken on your one-year anniversary, is an actual mountain of presents. and this is not an exaggeration. no, this is… as large a pile of gifts as you’ve ever seen, sitting in the corner of your shared chambers together. your mouth hangs slightly open as you take in the sheer volume of presents she’s got you. you had been sure of your gift (singular!!) to her, but looking around you… doubt slips into your mind. you shake it off, calling into your chambers.

• “uh… nadi?” your voice echoes through the empty space as you ruffle your hair with your fingers, swinging your legs out of bed and onto… is that a path of rose petals?? and not even just scattered, an entire, beautifully arranged path of (somehow) amaranthine rose-petals. it’s so soft, and you can’t help laughing in incredulous delight as you savour the silken feel of the path beneath your feet. of course, you follow it. you’d hate for all her obviously meticulous planning to go to waste— no, you’re going to make sure this day goes exactly to plan! you step across the gossamer-soft, sweet-smelling path laid out for you as you approach nadia’s divan next to her paper folding-doors that she usually changes behind. you exhale softly as you take in the breathtaking outfit in front of you, squealing with delight as you sweep it up in your arms and twirl behind the doors.

• when you’ve changed and fixed your hair, (if it’s to your liking ordinarily, she’s even matched accessories for you!) you step out from behind the doors only to be swept towards a dressing-table by one of nadia’s attendants. they’re finished quickly, and as they leave you go to look in the mirror, and stop in your tracks. that’s… you? the person staring back at you is quite unfamiliar. you stare with no small measure of disbelief at smooth, rosy-apple cheeks underneath star-filled eyes, and soft, blushing lips, hanging open.

• if gowns are more to your liking, the one nadia’s chosen for you is absolutely stunning, even more so on your figure. it looks as if it was made for you! in your favourite colour, the hue that undoubtedly looks best on you, it fits at your waist and flairs out prettily, billowing around your ankles as you turn this way and that. the fabric falls off you perfectly, nadia would have spared absolutely no expense, and the shoes she’s picked out accentuate your great beauty even further. whatever your chosen outfit, however, nadia ensures that you look absolutely breathtaking in it.

• once you’re finished, you follow the trail of rose petals through your chamber doors, taking your little gift with you. anyone who sees you on your way absolutely stops in their tracks. anyone who sees you? immediately in love with you. gay or straight, doesn’t matter— they’re absolutely besotted with you now!! you note the lack of servants with a faint smile— nadia’s had most of the palace staff dismissed for the day, a skeleton-crew keeping the palace running on minimal functions for the day. today is your day. it belongs only to the two of you, and she won’t have her duties as countess interfering.

• when the trail finally ends, at the entrance to the palace gardens, you bend ever so slightly (someone cranes their neck at this and gets a little slap upside the head from a mildly irritated portia. don’t interrupt her! she’s fangirling so. hard. all her ship dreams are finally coming true!!) and pick up the parchment note nadia’s carefully scrolled. when you pick it up, it immediately unfurls in your hands to reveal the most elegant calligraphy you’ve ever seen. if you think nadia’s writing (when she isn’t planning or inventing, that is) isn’t the most lovely handwriting you’ve ever seen, you’re wrong. “come and find me,” reads the elegantly curving script in nadia’s hand. even simply reading it, you can almost hear the teasing, lilting air to her voice she would have had as she’d read the note out, and you set out with a warm smile to go and find your love.

• you think you know exactly where to find her, you think with a small smile to yourself. you’re quite enjoying yourself, playing nadia’s game. you could never hope to beat her at any game of wit, but you’d lose to her again and again if it meant having her guiding hands on yours, teaching you patiently, her soft voice tickling your cheek, her soft kiss ‘well done’ as you master a concept. you love this woman so much, it’s almost overtaking. as you’ve been reflecting, your feet have been carrying you towards the part of the garden that has always belonged to the two of you.

• ever since you pulled her away from the insistent clamour of the court to hide in the little clearing you two had unwittingly stumbled upon, you had always met here for your strolls through the gardens, made out read together here, and always enjoyed your time alone, here where nobody can find the two of you. (well, actually… portia found your little spot ages ago, but felt too terrible to interrupt your time together. she’s also probably been leading everyone subtly away from your spot together. “no, they’re not to be bothered! no, it can wait! leave them alone or so help me—”)

• when you finally reach the secluded clearing right in the thicket of the palace gardens, you turn into your safe-haven together, and lose your breath. nadia hasn’t turned towards you yet, but the clearing is strung with beautiful lights that dot the bushes around you and make it seem like there are little fireflies in amongst the bushes, there are new wildflowers planted all through the thicket that gives the little clearing even more of a charming atmosphere, and the soft blanket that’s spread across the floor is a classic daisy-white, edged with lace and strewn with baby’s breath. there’s a feast fit to feed many more than two people on a slightly raised honey-oak wood platter.

• nadia herself is dressed in an outfit you haven’t seen her wear before, a long, flowing cream-coloured dress that fits her waist and flares out in a single layer, a slit running up to show most of a long, perfect leg. her hair is open and tumbling in beautiful, shining amaranthine waves down her back. the dress billows around her arms only to cinch in at the wrist, and you find yourself unable to look away. “nadi…” your voice is soft, and she turns to you, anything she has to say dying on her lips as she inhales sharply.

• “my love, you look… exquisite,” comes her breathy voice, her eyes sparkling as she takes you in wearing the outfit she picked for you. “well, it’s all thanks to you,” you say lightly, trying to take away from the fact that your face is so hot you think it would burn you to touch it. she notices, and stifles her fond smile lest she embarrass you. instead, she strides across the clearing in one quick motion, takes you by the waist, dips you over, and meets your lips with her soft, full ones. you sigh into her, running your hands through your hair as you’ve been longing to do since first you walked into the clearing. she reluctantly pulls you back up again when you break away for air, keeping her arm around your waist as she pulls you close to her again, stroking your cheek as you look into her eyes, lost in how utterly regal she is. you’re seized by another wave of admiration and love for this woman. you can’t even find the words to tell her how much she means to you, and so you pull her to you in another kiss.

• you don’t even realise you’re pouring all your love for her into your kiss both figuratively and literally until she pulls away, looking at you with an utterly overwhelmed expression, tears tinged with rose-petal pink rolling down her cheeks. “oh, nadi i’m so sorry! oh, please don’t cry!! i didn’t mean to— mmrph!” she cuts you off, meeting your lips with such fervour you take a step back— but she pulls you back to her, moulding you into her person as if the two of you are one and the same. but in a way, you are. you’d be a shell of a person without your love, and you know how deep her affection for you is.

• “mc… that was overtaking,” comes her soft voice. “oh nadi, i’m so sorry i wasn’t thinking!” you stumble over your words, berating yourself again and again in your mind. “sometimes it just happens and i don’t realise it, but—” she shushes you, her eyes shining. “you love me… that much?” her soft voice comes, and you pull back in confusion to take her in.

• “uh… nadi. you’re the most stunning, clever, kind, resourceful person i’ve ever met. you’ve got the biggest heart and i absolutely love you for it. you make me so, so happy,” you tell her, a wide smile on your face. “of course my love for you is overtaking! i think i fall in love with you a little more every day,” you confess, a sheepish smile on your face as you look away from her, but she turns you back to her by your chin, pulling you to her for another kiss.

• “you complete me.” is her only reply. you know she can’t put what she feels for you into words, but you look up at her with surprise as she takes your hand suddenly. “mc i can’t put all that i feel for you into words but my aura will allow you to see just how much i adore you,” she tells you with a warm smile as you place your hand on her face, opening your mind to her aura. it’s a simple spell, you shouldn’t be feeling this drained simply from tapping into nadia’s aura, and yet… when the full force of her love for you hits you, you actually stumble. when nadia catches you, her laugh is warm and full of love as she lowers you both down onto the picnic blanket. you snuggle further into her arms, resting your head on her chest as her arms encircle you. “oh, nadia. thank you.” you don’t say anything else, hoping she’ll know just what you’re thanking her for. she does. you think she’ll always understand you, whether you tell her or not, and as she pulls away gently to pull a bowl of your favourite fruit towards the two of you, you’re struck by how lucky you are. how lucky, to have this incredible woman sitting here beside you at all.

• “come here, mc,” comes her soft voice. for once, she doesn’t need to put on a front for anyone. it’s just her and the one she loves. will make as if she’s going to feed you, and then tease you instead, maybe getting a little juice on your cheek and kissing it off you. the rest of your picnic together is spent simply talking quietly, enjoying each other’s company. you dance slowly in the clearing, your head on nadia’s chest as she leads the two of you in w slow dance, her hand securely around your waist. neither of you need to say very much, and the beginnings of sunset comes to find the pair of you stretched out lazily on the picnic blanket. her head rests on your lap as you stroke her hair gently, probably running your fingers through it a few times, and singing her a lullaby or just a sweet and or slow song.

• a.n: yes, i said singing. i don’t care whether you think your voice is pretty or not, (it is. fight me.) nadia loves it because it’s uniquely yours. nothing puts her more at ease than your slow and steady voice reading or singing to her. look, some voices are deemed by most people to be the standard, lovely voice— and if you fall into that category then great! i’m so happy your voice is like that!! but if you don’t, i want you to know that some voices are made just to sing softly-spoken lullabies and i think that’s beautiful. <3

• but towards the end of your picnic, you’ll tell her tentatively, “nadi… ?” she’ll hum in response. “yes, my heart?” “well um… i know you got me all those gifts and i just wanted to say thank you,” you say softly. she sits up, coming to cup your cheek. “anything for you, my dearest. but what troubles you?”

• “well it’s just that my gift isn’t all that, i just made it myself,” you’ll try to tell her, but she’s having none of it. is shushing you by the second sentence. “don’t say ‘just’, mc. i made some of your gifts myself, too. it means that you care for me so, that you know well enough what i’d like,” she tells you with a gentle smile.

• you’ll pull out the small, carefully wrapped package in your favourite colour. “here it is,” you tell her shyly. “i hope you like it.”

• when she unwraps it, she looks to you with shining eyes. “mc, this is beautiful!” she tells you. it’s a jewellery box you smelted using magic. the intricate engravings on the top took an especially long time to do, but they’re in native prakran and your home language, looping elegantly through one another to form confessions of love, linked so that they’ll never end. in the middle are the numbers ‘II’ and ‘0’ in roman numerals, and she looks to you with glassy eyes before you tell her softly to open it.

• when she does, she loses her breath. “mc… is this you and i?” she asks you, looking up at you with the most beautiful smile you can’t help but give one in return. you nod in response, your mouth curving up ever so slightly as you recall the memory. “oh, this was our first ever dance!” she tells you, her eyes alight at the memory. “i remember how we pushed and pulled like magnets. you knew everything i was going to do before i did it, mc, and you trusted me to lead you. it was the first time i truly saw you dance, and it was uniquely beautiful,” she tells you, smiling at you. you can’t help but meet her lips at her adorable expression, pulling her to you as she tilts your head up and to the side, resting her hands on your hipbones.

• she has a gala for you over the next few days where she leads you again in the palatial dance, the two of you dancing in sync and a beautiful rhythm as she spins you around in your beautiful outfit, but today belongs to the two of you.

• you’re not getting any sleep tonight! so enjoy. but seriously, it’s the most loving, gentle night you’ve had with her yet and that’s saying something since nadia takes care of you so much. still so filled with passion, though. the morning after, she’s cancelled everything to simply lay with you, and you’re overjoyed at the unexpected gesture.

• you’ll definitely blush as you catch sight of her thoroughly marked neck, and she’ll pull you to her sleepily. you’ll both get the rest you deserve.

julian

• as you awaken, you notice that your room is empty, and you call out for julian as you step out of bed. “hey, jules!” your call echoes through the empty house.

• julian hasn’t left you a trail of rose petals, but rather detailed, encrypted instructions that lead you through the town, picking up items everywhere you go. every time you solve a clue, a grin spreads across your face— they’re all so thought through, so meaningful. you love this man and all his melodrama so much.

• when you’re finally finished with the list, you find yourself in a secluded section of the whispering woods, looking around yourself in awe. this part of the forest is lit with bioluminescence, beautiful flowers and plants streaked with all sorts of glowing colours curling into the undergrowth and lighting up the night with bursts of colour. julian sits on a dark picnic blanket, a lantern beside him, with a luminous blue, star-like flower held out towards you. “you’ve found me, mc,” comes his playful voice, and you just barrel into his arms, wrapping your arms around him and squeezing with all your might.

• all through the picnic, julian softly tells you how much you mean to him and how much he loves you, as you feed him bits of lobster claw, and eventually when the night is over it finds the two of you strolling slowly back to your house, julian’s hand tightly in yours.

muriel

• when you awaken muriel’s right there beside you, pulling you into him gently. “happy one year anniversary, mc,” he murmurs into your hair. the two of you will just snuggle and relax for the entire morning, and towards the middle of the day he’ll tell you with the biggest, tomato-red blush on his face that he… picked out an outfit for you that he thought you’d like, (with asra’s help, of course— or maybe he asked nadia, and she was surprised and taken aback but utterly delighted to help her friend) and would you like to get dressed now… ? he’ll come and pick you up later, when everything’s all set up.

• you take in the outfit with a soft smile. although it’s simple, you love it. you dress right away and spend the rest of the afternoon matching accessories and shoes, and doing your hair. if you like dresses, it’s a simple forest-green summer dress that hugs your waist and flares out, that you pair with a little locket muriel made you when he confessed his love to you. you’re wearing heels or flats, but either way you look lovely. if not a gown, you wear a simple forest-green shirt and a pair of linen trousers. either way, the simplicity makes you look radiant.

• when muriel comes back to get you, he takes you in with wide eyes, a blush spreading steadily across his face. “whoa… mc you’re so pretty,” he’ll tell you with a soft smile, and you can’t resist pressing your lips to his. he takes your hand in his and walks you through the forest. little murmurs of “mc you’re so lovely,” and “mc i love you so much,” break the calm forest noise as the two of you stroll through wildflowers and holly, until you reach a clearing full of wildflowers. it’s night now, dusk has long since fallen, and the meadow looks even more beautiful as you turn back to muriel with a grin. “muri it’s so pretty! thank you for bringing me here,” you tell him with a soft smile.

• he pulls you forward to the picnic blanket, and the two of you lay down with your faces to the stars. as he feeds you, he’ll point out constellations and tell you their stories, his voice soft and full of love. when he tells you the story of orion and the pleiades, you groan in protest you find that he still chases them across the night sky. “i’d chase you across the night sky for all eternity,” comes his quiet voice, his warm breath tickling your cheek as crickets chirrup quietly all around the two of you.

• come morning, the two of you accidentally fell asleep in the clearing… but neither of you are even mildly unhappy about that, and you laugh together the entire way home, making jokes and retelling the stories from last night in silly voices.

• muriel cuddles with you for most of today, as well.

portia

• when you wake, it’s to the sweet smell of something baking, and you throw your feet out of bed immediately, sprinting to the kitchen as you take in portia, with tousled morning hair in her sleep-shirt and underwear, baking your favourite desert. you sneak up behind her and tickle her sides, and she almost drops the tray she’s holding, setting it down quickly to turn to you, a stern expression on her face. it quickly melts away as she’s reminded of how adorable you are, and instead she feeds you a bit of batter or custard, kissing your nose as you give her a big morning hug, coming up to meet her lips and running your fingers through her hair.

• “oh, mc…” she signs into your lips. “good morning to you too, my love,” comes your answering voice, a smile on your lips. her lips curve up as well. “happy one year anniversary, mc!!” she shouts, barrelling into you with another bear hug. “oh, sweet arcana, let me die here,” you sigh into her arms before she thwacks your forehead lightly. “nuh uh, mc. you’ve already done that once,” she reminds you as you grin sheepishly.

• when she’s finished baking, you two probably take a nice warm bath together. you’ve each bought each other outfits, and you go to seperwre corners of the house, giggling softly, to change. your outfit is definitely cottagecore, and as you change into it you’re taken by how cute it looks. if you prefer gowns, yours is a classic white sleeveless picnic dress that hugs your waist and flares out around your ankles, with a tie at the back that folds sweetly into a bow. you’ve got straw wedge heels that go perfectly with the dress, and classic accessories to go along with it. if you prefer trousers, you have a classic set of light brown trousers and a cream-coloured shirt with a classic hat that matches your trousers.

• you’ve bought portia a lovely petal-pink dress with billowing sleeves that cinch around the elbows, that flutters out to the ankles, (you had it measured specifically so she doesn’t trip in it) and a soft tie to go around her waist. you’re hoping she leaves her hair open, and as the two of you meet in the kitchen in the middle of the house, both of you smile at the other. before either of you can say anything, pepi gives a proud little “peep!” and sits in between the both of you, tilting her head. the two of you haven’t left her out of the fun, and she’s got a sweet little cream-and-pink coloured bow around her neck. the two of you laugh as portia turns to you. “i knew you’d look amazing in that, sweetheart!” she tells you with a grin. “give us a twirl!” you do so, and spin her in your arms, pulling her in for a kiss as the two of you grab the picnic basket and head out.

• the meadow is big and beautiful, stretching into the distance. there are wildflowers everywhere, and as you lay out the picnic blanket you can’t help pulling portia up to you and away from the blanket to dance with you among the flowers. dancing with portia isn’t like dancing with any of the other main 6. dancing with portia is… instinctual. you’re led by your shared love and trust in each other, and it’s gentle but sure. you know she’s there to lead you in the dance, and her hand around your waist is secure. as you dance, she rests her head on your chest as you now take control, leading the two of you in a slow spin and then dipping her to meet her lips with yours.

• you feed each other, and read to each other, simply enjoying each other’s company until the sun sets.

lucio

• lucio has the entire day planned to a tee. the outfit he’s picked out for you is obviously lavish and probably worth more than some people make in a lifetime. gifts are also his love language, but he’s very domineering in what he’ll give you. it all conforms to what he wants you to wear and like. and so, even if you aren’t too into the overly expensive outfit, you wear it anyway and take yourself down to the gala he’s planned specifically for today.

• “ah, my darling mc!” he calls to you, as a smile lights up his face. he pulls you to him, dipping you for the whole court to see as he rights you again, wrapping his arm around your waist. “oh, mc. you do know that i love you more than life itself, don’t you?” comes his dramatic voice, soft so only you can hear.

• when the banquet is finished, get ready to not sleep at all have a lovely relaxing night.

#asra headcanons #asra x mc #countess nadia #julian devorak #julian the arcana #lucio the arcana #muriel the arcana #muriel x mc #asra the arcana #nadia headcanons #portia the arcana #portia devorak #julian headcanons #the arcana fluff #nadia the arcana fluff

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katsukikitten · 3 years ago

Text

In which Shoto is an asshole Oni and I am the author that wrote the majority of this fic tipsy, you’re welcome! Bnharemcollab masterlist found here

Warnings: Non con bruv. Claws horns? He's an oni bud

"And they say he's been stealing the hearts of beautiful women for centuries. So don't go talking to any ole handsome man that steps over a threshold." The tour guide adds to the end of her ridiculous story about some Demon King that drags women to hell before she leads the group onto the next painting.

Still there was something captivating about the art work, how the man has his back to the viewer and how women bow to him, foreheads pressed into the tatami mats with their own bleeding hearts held high over their heads. Blood drips from their hands, splattering on the mats like rain or tear drops. The man, who is assumed to be the Oni, is looking over his shoulder, hand reaching out for the nearest offering. Both figures are forever suspended in brush strokes and desire for more. The closer you inspect the other worldly looking figure the more your gut tightens. His elaborate kimono hangs loosely from his body but you can still see the broadness of his shoulders, the thick bands of muscle on his forearms, the apparition of elongated nails when you look closer and finally the faint strokes atop of his two toned hair that are in the shape of sharp horns.

A God among men or maybe you should say a Devil among friends. A sigh escapes you as you admire the work before the tour guide announces the title, artist and time period of the next piece. “Wrath of the Mountain God.” A large man, with long hair so deep in hue you first mistake it for black, stands in a Kimono. His chest on display as he stands giving the view his profile, his eyes glow red in the light of the full moon, in his arms seems to be a maiden, a flower crown falling from her hair. It looks as if his strong form had just taken a step, beneath his foot begins a nasty fissure that gapes the Earth for miles and miles. The painting feels charged and emotions practically drip from the ink painting and yet still your eyes flicker to the painting to it’s right. At this angle you can see a faint shimmer in his smoky quartz colored eye. It sends a shiver down your spine as you feel a faint breath on the nape of your neck. Quickly you turn your head, craning your neck to look over your shoulder but no one stands behind you. Just another painting, “Golden God of Destruction.” Red gaze glowering as his hair drips gold, while he walks over the hellish landscape of cooling and erupting lava. You swallow thickly before following the tour guide onto the next section.

The tour lasts another half an hour but your mind lingers on the shimmering eyes of the dangerous entity. The more you think of him the bigger the sinking feeling in your gut becomes, not to mention the more you feel as if something is stalking your every move. Another quick glance over your shoulder as you exit the museum while you ponder over why this particular Oni was handsome when all of the other artworks featuring a yokai or oni were depicted as ugly, grotesque even.

Maybe it was because he was the King? You couldn’t be sure, all you knew is that you could understand why the women would rip out their hearts and offer them up to him. He was hot as hell, no pun intended.

Suddenly the fall air smells of frost and the threat of snow, you wrinkle your nose before you jump out of your skin. .

"So you liked the "Oni King, stealer of heart’s'' piece best?" A smooth voice calls from behind you, you press your hand over your rapidly beating heart as you try to catch your breath. Startled, you turn around to see a handsome man opening the gate, stepping over the grass line onto the sidewalk. Instantly you feel heat rush you as a cool autumn breeze swirls around fallen leaves around your boots.

"How did you…"

"I come here often and no one has ever stopped and looked at that piece as long as you have." He seems stoic and you can just barely see the corner of his mouth lift up. You take a moment to really drink him in, his tall stature, his hair a shocking white with contrasting red and a scar that sits beautifully over one of his gem stone eyes. One a smoky quartz and the other a bright turquoise.

You swallow thickly as you stare at the other worldly man, finding little to no words as your heart beats into your ribcage. You grip at the fabric of your jacket over your heart, it pounds against your rib cage like a fluttering wild bird.

"Where are my manners? I am Todoroki Shoto. But you can call me Shoto." Again he offers his barely there smile, "And you are?"

It's laughable how you stumble over your own name, you have never had issues talking to attractive people before, what the hell was your problem now.

“It sounds lovely.” He says your name, it rolls off of his tongue like music makes you swallow thickly, your knees threatening to buckle and you can’t understand why you’re acting like a love struck teenager again. There is a contrasting air about him, just like his hair. Passion and reservation, raging power and quiet tranquility, and the feel of it is making you dizzy. Tipsy almost, drunk if you linger here too long. Just as you’re about to express how you’ll be late for dinner he smiles at you.

Fully this time.

And you think your heart was going to claw out of its calcium coffin but it stalls when you notice that it doesn’t fully reach his eyes.

“Well since you have a good appreciation of art, would you care to join me in the garden, the Chrysanthemum are in full bloom this time of year.” You swallow as you look at him, a twinge of fear lingering in your blood that is soon lost as he steps over the threshold of the garden, waiting patiently.

“Uh, yea I think I can spare some time.” You smile nervously, he offers out his hand.

“Be careful, the step down can be quite steep.” A genuine small form on your lips now as you remember the first time you set foot into this garden and almost twisted your ankle. You step over the threshold, blinking against the late afternoon sun as you do.

Except when you open your eyes once more, you are no longer in the garden. There are no shrubs and bushes, no cinderblock wall of the old museum, something more sinister stands in its place. The sky is an inky black, the full moon hangs overhead shining down onto a small village that thickens the closer it gets towards a large feudal era looking castle. Fading sunlight filter behind you as you whip your head behind you. A giant Torri stands where the aging fence and garden gate stood before, a hazy image of an autumn afternoon in the shape of the gate rapidly begins to shrink. Panicked you lunge arm outstretched as if catching a full elevator as you’re running behind for a very important meeting.

If only your paralyzing panic was over something so trivial.

A strong set of arms wrap around your waist, pulling you towards a chiseled chest as hot breath whispers cooly in your ear.

“I wouldn’t do that if you want to keep all of your limbs, love.”

Shaking you glance over your shoulder before you watch the portal to home close up.

Just like that the landscape that could be seen through the gate was endless night and rolling hills dotted with homes here and there. When you turn to face your captor his eyes narrow as he studies you. His gem stone eyes glittering in the rich moonlight, following your hands up to your chest. He stills as he listens and while he looks you notice the horns growing from his head. Thin and shaped into a deadly point. He tilts his head as if you are bewitching before he leans closer, capturing your hair between his fingers. Now that you were in the moonlight, in the realm he ruled, you looked...familiar and the feeling made his chest tighten.

“How does your heart feel?” He asks, eyes anywhere but yours. You try to jerk out of his touch but his warm hand wraps around your bicep keeping you well within arms reach.

“My heart?! What does that have to do with me standing in HELL!” You scream and it echoes across the chilled landscape. Some women in kimono pass by, keeping their eyes turned down as they pass but once they are a few steps behind this brute’s back, they send you withering glares.

Your attention comes fully back to the man in front of you, or maybe you should say demon. He presses his hand over your heart with a puzzling look. Your body heats from the contact and embarrassment, you were sure he could feel how hard your heart was pounding. All the while his brows knit upwards.

“Seems you aren’t affected…”He murmurs to himself, tonguing his cheek. Suddenly he tears your sweater, pressing his hand against your chest and part of your breast.

“Hey!” You protest until a burning sensation blooms on your skin, when he pulls away you see kanji puckering up, that reads “Shoto”

“That should keep the lower demons away...for now.” He grabs onto your wrist tightly, too tightly before your world bends and blurs. Folding in on itself as if Space and Time were suddenly a beautiful origami paper creased until the maker was satisfied.

The world is bright when you open your eyes next, cradled in an abundance of candle light as your stomach sours causing you to lurch.

“Ugh, not on the tatami!” A woman’s voice scolds, but her state doesn’t help the nausea that hits you in waves. She wears a beautiful kimono, embroidered with gold and silver thread on violet cloth, the chest stained a deep cherry and a hole is where her heart should be. Her hands stained blood red and you back up, panting as you try to keep a level head.

“Get her cleaned up.” Shoto snaps, “I will want her in my room promptly.”

The women in the room shake slightly, keeping their heads down, distantly you can hear the sound of a thousand thundering hearts, deafening in a sense. The stately woman gently guides you towards the bath in the large mansion, shock sets in as your gaze glazes over. Every hall has a woman, anywhere from the feudal era to today, all dressed in kimonos, most were dressed in the ones they obviously died in or dressed in old clothes with their tattoos and fresh wounds peeking out from beneath the fabric.

Every single person sends you a death glare.

You’re stripped of your clothes and dignity in the company of about twenty women, hands shove you into the steaming water, cupping the cloudy water to wash your skin.

No matter how often the woman dip their hands into the water, the blood never leaves their fingertips, forever stained in their sin.

“We gave them away, you know. Ripped them from our chests….” She looks up at you with a timid look.

“Kiyoko, hush.” An elder hisses as she straightens the thin piece of cloth you were going to wear once you were all pieced together.

“No, she deserves to know..” Kiyoko hisses back, “The story is similar for a lot of us, he appears in a doorway, he seems kind enough, and then we look into his eyes. Gazing too deeply before our hearts seize in our chests, flopping around as if behind your flesh was killing it and it should sit in the palm of his hand. The only logical thing was for us to reach deep inside of ourself and give him what he deserved.” A quite falls over the room before a heavy solem air settles on your shoulders.

“He stopped for a while….after he met you.” Your eyes flash to hers and the elder’s hand wraps into Kiyoko’s hair, pulling her away from you.

“Enough.” She snarls as tears run down her cheeks, down all the women’s cheeks and you swallow thickly.

After an hour of primping you find yourself in front of two sliding tatami doors that have Oni and other yokai decorating their sheets.

“Send her in.” A deep voice sounds from the other side.

“Yes master.” The women answer, opening the doors before one shoves you in.

Doors to the eqwaa are open as he lounges on the polished wood, staring at the moon. He turns his head to look over his shoulder and it eerily reminds you of the painting in the museum.

In an instant he is in front of you, backing you into the plush bed that sat in the middle of his room, you fall onto the raised futon looking up at him.

The lowlight plays tricks on your eyes, the square paper lantern and the moon painting him in strokes of kind, of hurt, not some beastly thing he obviously was. Even his horns seemed soft, but nothing was softer than his lips as he pressed them to yours. Embarrassingly ecstasy blossoms under your eyelids as liquid heat floods your core. His tongue probes yours as he leans over top of you, playing with you nipples through the thin cloth as you moan into his mouth. Your body arches into his his as your heart flutters, trying to pull you away from his addicting touch.

Maybe you could have gotten away, maybe….

If only his hand hadn’t slipped between your thighs where he teased your sex utnil you pruned his figners, singing like the song bird he knew you were. His hard cock presses against your thigh twitching with delight. He kisses down your throat before he shreds the thin white kimono away from your body. He groans audibly before he leans down, one finger pulling at your pebbled nipple while the other pulls it between his teeth.

“Shoto…”You cry and he moans into your supple skin. Taking off his own thin kimono to align himself up to your fluttering hole. Eyes glued to your heart, fingers tracing the kanji as he eases himself in inch by inch. Stretching you and filling you pleasantly. He sits for a moment, taking in your body and how you burn under his touch. Free hand roaming your body as the other prods your fresh burn. Tracing the strokes over and over as if he wrote it himself.

Well technically he did.

“Please.” Your mouth betrays, hips pressing up into his to get any sort of friction, his free hand comes down, slamming your hips into the bed.

“Say it again.” He huffs, “Say my name again.”

“Shoto.” It's a hushed, reluctant breath but your skin was icy hot, lifeforce feeling as if it were evaporating away from the heated tension that sat between you two. He watches your body wither, feels your cunt clamping down onto him desperately and it’s all he can do not to thrust into you widely.

“Again.” He barks, pulling at your nipple harshly.

“Shoto.” You moan, the sound is enough to make him start his harsh pace. Pelvis slamming into yours as his tuft of pubic hair glides across your clit. Your vision blurs with tears, it feels so good. Better than anything you’ve ever had or could ever remember as his claws ghost over your soft skin.

“You thought you could escape me.” He grunts, ramming himself into you harder, you moan in response, “I marked more than your flesh two hundred years ago, I marked your soul.”

“You couldn’t help yourself, coming back to the very piece of art you created.” He continues with a laugh, claws raking down your skin, slicing at your skin superficially. Your eyes roll into the back of your head and you cannot fathom what he’s said. All that there is the feel of his hands, the pleasure that threatens to snap in your stomach.

He watches the way your cunt coats his cock in a silvery sheen that has his lips parting. Taking wanton ruts, the motion of it rattling the art on the wall. Pieces fall around you and any of the scrolls that try to block his view of you get shredded mid air. His thrusts turn sloppy as he comes down to bite at your neck.

“Shoto!” You cry out, vision going black as your body convulses around him, eyes rolling in to the back of your head as you forget your name and only cry out his.

“That’s right, tell me who you belong to. Who owns you love.” He pants, holding his own release for a moment longer just to hear your sweet voice scream his name over and over. Finally your milking cunt sends him over the edge. He grunts, staring into your eyes as he paints your wall a creamy white.

“Mine.” He growls, biting at your breast, at the skin over your heart. You feel his spilling cock harden again as your body melts into the sheets.

Most of the night is spent in mind numbing ecstasy and in those few short hours you forget you were ever brought here unwillingly.

You sit on a throne, overlooking the vast landscape of Yomi, Oni running the underworld as heartless women wander the streets. Their mortal heartbeats keeping time as they ceaselessly beat just beneath your feet. Mind’s eye miles away as you see a ghost of a hand before you. Memory playing out as you take careful brush strokes against your canvas, hoping this would serve as a warning for other women as you dab the brush in the deep colored liquid that stains the tatami floor of your home.

Ever the artist you wanted to add final touches even as you drew your final breaths, having thought it better to take your own life than to sit at the right hand of a demon, your chest was already mutilated with his name.

Irony weighs heavy in your stomach as you realize how futile it was to even make that masterpiece. It did not serve as a warning.

No if anything, it served as a beacon, drawing you like a moth to flame until you circled to close.

Burning up in the flames of the very thing you admired.

#todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #oni shoto x reader #tw: non con #twnoncon

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bubblyhoney · 3 years ago

Note

sarah i have thought of another fic request or like a cute idea i guess! i didn’t have anyone in mind when i thought of it so you can write it for whoever you want honestly :)

okay so the reader is a streamer but streams games like animal crossing, standew valley, etc. then (insert who you’re writing for) says they don’t like that game, but later ends up buying it and the reader is like “i thought you said you didn’t like this game” and they’re like “well i like you” and they confuses their feelings and they end up playing the game together and reader gives them a tour of their island or farm

i feel like this request isn’t good, but the scenario seemed cute and i wanted to share it. sorry if this is confusing or just too specific cuz i know it can be hard to write requests like that! but yeah i hope it gives you inspiration and you like the request <3

new horizons

warnings: language, a Marvel reference (hint: natasha said it about tony), stupid idiots who don’t realize they like each other, use of pet names, Uno rage, Hasan Piker's presence

words: 1473

tags: sapnap x gn!reader

A/N: i’ve been trying to catch up a little on my requests (i’ve only got a couple so i’m not super overwhelmed) but school and outside life has been taking up most of my time so this one took me a while to make! tbh— ive never played animal crossing so i did google some of the game mechanics and i apologize if anything is inaccurate about the game…. but i liked relaxing and writing this cute one so thank you for requesting hails :3

requests/inbox status: open

“This game is trash.”

Your head quirks, fingers stopped on the screen. You’re in the process of giving your character a cute new nickname; it’s kind of hard to decide between “awkward dude” and “elderly skater”.

“Excuse me?” Your chat comes alive with emotes and ‘KEKW’s, obviously entertained by you and your almost-more-than-friends-friend.

There’s a story for that later.

Sapnap’s rough laugh comes through your headset and he audibly swallows, the sound of a water bottle dropping onto his desk echoing.

“I’m just saying—it’s boring. It’s like Minecraft but you don’t like… do anything.” The grainy image of his bearded face shifts and you see him pull out his phone.

“It’s— you can’t even compare it to Minecraft! It’s a completely different game system—you actually interact with other people live in the game.” You huff out a dramatic sigh, slumping in your chair with a pout. “Just because you go into this lucid state where all you know is ‘touch block, hit George’ doesn’t mean this game isn’t fun.” (He scoffs at your awful impression of his voice. Your viewers love it.)

“Jeez,” he mumbles, fumbling with the cap of his water bottle. “Touched a nerve there, bud.”

You roll your eyes, getting back to the village in the game.

“Don't ‘bud’ me.”

The call falls comfortably quiet, the sounds of him tapping obsessively on his phone and you clicking away filling the silence. A gentle bedroom-pop YouTube playlist remains in the background, prompting you to hum along and glance at the chat to see a flood of “check twitter” and “Y/N TWITTER!!”.

“What happened on Twitter?” You mumble, confused, and pull the website up on another monitor. Sapnap just makes a curious noise, swinging back and forth in a circle. “Oh my God,” you say to yourself, fingertips brushing your parted lips.

“What?”

“Hasan Piker just followed me and retweeted one of my not even remotely political old tweets. Like from a year ago.”

“That’s— wow. Congrats?” Sapnap’s voice cracks, and his ears flush pink the tiniest bit when you glance at his face on Discord.

“I’m gonna go on record and say that he could get it.” You shake your head in disbelief.

Sapnap falls uncharacteristically non-hyper-verbal, so you look past the frenzied chat and to his screen— wait. He muted and turned his camera off.

“Um,” you start, furiously typing question marks in your private chat. “Where’d you go?” You mute and turn screen share off for your stream, concerned that he might’ve fallen off his chair and broken his neck and needs you to call the ambulance.

The characteristic ding of a twitter notification sounds through your bedroom, and you look at your phone quickly.

“That’s where I went.”

Sapnap Tweeted: “all Y/U stans can choke on my dick”.

“Jesus, Sapnap,” you say, and rapidly refresh to read the replies. This tweet was deleted. “That’s so— that barely makes sense, bro. Why— literally what?”

His snicker floods your ears and you relax in your chair. Crisis: averted. “Don’t fucking— what’s wrong with you?”

“I thought it would be funny,” he offers, shrugging, and fiddles with the straw in his water bottle, smile fading. “And also Hasan pisses me off.”

“Why, ‘cause he wants a piece of this? Jealous?” You think back to your viewers, knowing they’re probably spamming question marks and coming to ludacris conclusions about both of your absences. No offense to them. You remember your stan days very vividly.

“I mean, kinda.” He rubs once at his nose, glancing at the camera (and what feels like you) before taking a sip from his water bottle.

“Wow.” You watch one strand of his hair fall from beneath his hat and brush against his full eyebrows. “I’m uh—I’ll get back to my stream. You coming? Or is it time for a Sapnap-snack?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He snorts and leans his chin onto the balance of his arm.

“That means you like to take a little snack break mid-stream and come back approximately nine hours later and you didn’t even eat.”

“You know what— fuck you.” He flicks the camera as you laugh at the look on his face.

The teasing mood is easily kept as you switch games from Animal Crossing to Uno, all the while slamming Sapnap with +4’s and skipping the newly-arrived BadBoyHalo at any chance you can get. It unironically pisses him off and he has to take a Sapnap-snack break midway through (only a fifteen minute break this time, during which you and Bad take a “What Kind of Bread Are You?” quiz). The rest of the night is filled with devious cackles (you), loud and sudden bangs that sound suspiciously like someone hitting their desk in anger (Sap) and the stupid barking of Rat, AKA Lucy (Bad). She’s cute but a menace to the sound quality of Bad’s microphone. You sign off stream around 2 a.m. with various forms of thanks and kisses blown to the camera. It’s been a refreshing night, actually; you’ve been busy organizing a partnership stream all week and all your friends have been busy filming or editing or what-not. Quackity had time for a little Roblox every couple of days, though. He’s got your back.

The next time you see Sapnap is after a two hour stream of him try-harding in Valorant and you finishing responding to an email from your partnership in the VC.

“Okay, I’m back.” You hear him shift in his chair and click a couple more times on his keyboard. You perk up in your chair, closing the email browser you’d been looking at.

“Do you want to play anything else? I’m down for anything.”

“Absolutely not Uno. You can go to hell for giving me 6 cards that one time,” he jabs. You scoff, crossing your arms and leaning back in your chair.

“Okay, the +4 was on me but it’s Bad who gave you the last two. That’s not my fault, sweetie.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbles, trailing off as the clicking of his keyboard stops. “Hey, um—Guess what?”

Your heart beats loud in your ears at the tone of his voice. He sounds nervous; that’s never good.

“I’m scared to guess,” you try, playing with a little Minecraft dog figurine you have on your desk with fidgety fingers. “What?”

“I bought Animal Crossing.”

Silence. You stare at his discord icon blankly, trying to reroute the wires of your brain.

“Tell me you love it.”

“Well… I haven’t actually played it— but you said you liked it, so.”

“So,” you repeat him, ears warming but continuing on. “Is that what you tell all your friends when you buy something they like? That it's because of them?”

He seems to choose his next words carefully, pausing a beat to consider your questions.

“Well, I don’t have a crush on all of my friends.”

“You—what?” You stutter, caught off guard and stumbling. What did he just say? “Don’t tell me you mean you have a crush on me.”

“I’m almost positive I just did.” His discord icon stares right back at you, taunting.

“You know, you’re very casual for someone who just admitted they like-like me.” Your cheeks flush pink and you have to press a hand to your chest to keep your breathing sounding stable.

“Yeah, I’m kind of cool like that,” he offers, a huff of a laugh punctuating his statement. The conversation moves into a lull that you can’t help but know is because of you. He must expect you to say something about it, right?

“You are very cool, Sapnap.” You tilt back in your chair, sucking in a breath to prepare yourself for your next words. “And—Isortakindofhaveacrushonyoutoo.”

He must understand you, for you can hear the grin in his voice when he asks “Really?”

“Y-yeah.” You feel like a preteen again, all shaky and giddy in front of the boy you just asked to a middle school dance.

“Um, alright. What do we do now?”

“I don’t know,” you answer genuinely and swing in a happy little circle in your chair. “We could play Animal Crossing.”

“I’m down.”

You swear you’ve never heard more beautiful words.

He keeps his camera off for most of the time you two play, too focused on creating his island and asking you questions about how to fish to turn it on. He silently flips it on when you help him decorate his lawn, needing to show you in real-time the decorations he has bought and where you think he should put them. He looks cute. I mean, of course he does. He always does.

You tell him goodbye late in the night, eyes saying a little more than just “see you tomorrow”.

You like him. He likes you.

It’s even better when you two have matching gardens.

A/N: anybody and everybody (especially my precious hailey) let me know what you think!! :]

#sapnap #mcyt #sapnap x gn!reader #sapnap x reader #sapnap x you #sapnap fluff #sapnap drabble #sapnap oneshot #bubblyhoneyfics #honey answers #mcyt x reader #🥚except small

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forsakenmis · 4 years ago

Text

Calming her down

Title: Calming her down Pairing: top!Wanda Maximoff x female!reader Rating: 18+ Incredibly NSFW Warnings: Dark Wanda, kind of non-con, strap on, fingering, mummy kink, post-WV finale so spoilers if you haven’t seen it. also i haven’t editted it so beware grammar and spelling mistakes. Word count: 4215 words

It had taken far too long to track her down. Why they asked you to do it, you weren’t really sure. It’s not as if you and Wanda ever really talked, or even made eye contact, during the years as an avenger. Yet you were given the task of pulling her back onto the rails, rails she’s apparently veered pretty badly. You really think Doctor Strange, the Gandalf of wizards, would be a lot better at handling her than you would be. Or even Clint, the guy who was her mentor. But no-no one wanted to reach out to her, even though they spent years arguing that she needed to be supervised. You could go on for days how you being the person being sent is the most ridiculous idea they could have had.

You weren’t even a super, or an avenger, you started off as a shield agent who was then thrown into Stark Industries as Tony’s intern. Fury wanted an in and you were that in. Then everything went bottoms up and you became a slightly more valuable member of the group. Support, really.

After the snap, you just wanted a stable life. A normal life. By the time they contacted you to do this, you’d applied to a college. No, a university. In Australia, which was far, far away from New York. The briefing was simple. Wanda, left to her own devices in her time of need, went to try to handle her own grief after stealing Vision’s body from S.W.O.R.D. You were being asked to go try to talk some sense into her. Then, within the week of you repeatedly saying no, it turned out the head of S.W.O.R.D. was a bastard which you could have seen coming from a mile away, and Wanda was god knows where.

They promised you they’d leave you alone after this.

So you said yes.

What could go wrong?

You were still asking herself that three weeks later when you were sitting there still trying to find out where exactly she went. Wanda wasn’t going to be easy to find, especially considering she didn’t want to be found but you did it. It was four in the morning when you finally narrowed down a list of ten possible locations that she could be in. You were too tired to even crack a smile, you fell back onto your bed to sleep.

Your celebration was sleep for by the next morning, you were trekking across the world and came to the outskirts of a property with the view of the mountains. Pretty, sure, but you didn’t think Wanda was here for the view.

It was eerily quiet when you walked up to the door. That type of quiet they put into horror movies before they pulled out a jump scare. You didn’t trust it. Then again-not that there was anything around to make noise. Wanda could be asleep, as maybe all this isolation has meant she’s forsaken a body clock.

Still-you trusted it as much as you could lift Mjollnir and you couldn’t even make it shift.

The curtains were closed, you couldn’t see anything as you walked up the two steps and you had to stop your hand from hovering over your handgun. It would have been more of a self assurance. You couldn’t dream of winning against Wanda in a fight, both of you would be aware of that, but you couldn’t exactly imagine she’d be that trusting of you if you walked in holding a gun. So you fiddled with the watch around your wrist, it was a gift from Tony years ago.

You could have brought reinforcement, sure, but that seemed like a moot point considering you were trying to gain her trust, somewhat. The reinforcement would have been S.W.O-oh whatever, sword, you don’t have the time for formality. And sword made such a huge mess of it the first time round so you didn’t think they were going to help this time round. You tried calling Clint, but he was busy, apparently. Too busy to pick up your calls.

This was definitely a suicide mission.

You knocked three times with the back of your knuckles and listened, trying to hear any hint of movement.

Nothing.

You knocked again. Knock. Knock. Knock. Not even a creak.

Maybe she was asleep or maybe, dare you say it, had gotten it wrong. God, you’d hate for some old man to swing the door open.

Your hand dropped to the handle, going to test the lock, but then it swung open and if it wasn’t for your own instincts, you would have stumbled forward.

Wanda.

Your eyes slammed onto her face and, for the first time in years, you fumbled. She looked different, way too different for your liking, she looked older since Tony’s funeral. Mature. More confident in herself. You could think of a different million ways to describe her in that split second.

She’d always been pretty before but this Wanda was…gorgeous. This Wanda could also read minds.

You cut your thoughts short and took in a slight breath. Wanda wasn’t saying anything and her only acknowledgement was the slight hook of her brow.

“Wanda,” you began before forcing a smile onto yourself, “long time no see.”

“So they sent you, of all people,” Wanda remarked and you made a face. Sure-she was right but that was, quite frankly, rude.

“They suggested I come and I wanted to come,” you lied, “to see how you were doing...okay, look, I know we never talked. Or interacted. I know that. I was probably not the most open to you as I could have been.” Wanda was continuing to stare at you. She was dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt. A shirt that arguably was one size too small for her. You weren’t really sure what to say, if you were honest, you’d spent so much time trying to find her, tracking her down like a puzzle, that you forgot to plan for this interaction.

“But I like to think we were on good terms,” you continued. Worst thing she could do was close the door in your face and you were more than happy to camp outside. “Enough that you’ll hear me out. I heard about your book, the darkhold–” That’s when you got a reaction out of her. Her eyes narrowed, growing even colder, and you could see her grip tightening on the door. “–we need to talk. Please-just let me in. I’m not going to fight you. We both know I can’t do that.”

You were keeping your thoughts clear. You didn’t want her reading you.

After a second, Wanda swung the door open wider and let you in.

Your eyes scanned the room the moment you entered the threshold, looking for all the exits, before you turned back to Wanda. Wanda, who had closed the door, and had started walking towards you, close enough that you took a step back but found yourself hitting the back of a table.

Now that she was right up in your personal space, close enough that you could smell the soap she was using. Your heart was beating now.

“So you came for the book?” She asked, staring down at you. She was only a couple of inches taller than you but it may as well have been more.

“No, I came here to help you. And I know that book isn’t helping you, no matter how much you think it is. Wanda, that book is dangerous,” you said, gaining enough courage that you pushed yourself off the table to step forward, getting into Wanda’s space just as she was in yours.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Wanda remarked but she didn’t move. “You’re as bullheaded as you used to be, never knowing when a fight was too big for you. I remember all those times Nat and Steve had to throw themselves on the line because you’d done something reckless.” “That’s rich coming from you.” “I could protect myself,” Wanda snapped back. “So where are they? The rest of them. The people that said they were my family. Were you all that they had?”

You clenched your teeth. Don’t say the truth. “They wanted a woman’s touch with it,” you lied. “There isn’t that many of us who were close to you back then anymore.”

It was really only Nat and maybe Pepper who were close to Wanda. Both were a little preoccupied as of right now (for different reasons) to come knocking on Wanda’s door.

“A woman’s touch?” Wanda echoed, saying it in a way that made you clench your teeth. It was a raspy whisper. “And what, may I ask, would that entail?”

With the way she said it, you were pretty sure that Wanda wasn’t meaning it in the same way you were. Albeit, your meaning was rather off as well. In that you had no idea what that would entail either.

Wanda must have realised this and took a step back. “I suggest you leave,” she said and you hesitated before shaking your head.

“I won’t do that,” you said and she frowned. “They asked me to calm you down–”

“Calm me down?” She repeated, pronouncing each syllable, and it was as if the temperature dropped ten degrees. “Calm me down.” Then she smirked and it made you roll back on your heels.

“As long as you have that book, yes,” you said, “how about this–I take the book and then I go. You’ll think more rational without it, Maximoff, you know that. Deep down. You’re smart, Wanda, smarter than anyone ever gave you credit for. Besides Vision–”

“Don’t say his name,” Wanda snarled and suddenly she was in front of you again, hand around your throat, “do you understand me? He doesn’t exist here, not with you around.”

You didn’t really know what she meant but you ran with it and nodded. Her hand was tight and your airway was becoming a little too blocked for your liking.

She stared down at you, her eyes hard and cold, but then they softened and her grip loosened but they still didn’t leave your skin.

“You know, I might have pursued you back then, if it wasn’t for him,” Wanda began and you blinked. What? “You were everything I liked in a girl. Besides your recklessness….and stubbornness...but I think I can deal with that pretty easily.”

“Wanda, I’m flattered, really, but how about we focus,” you said, carefully, deciding to take that with a grain of salt and then over analyse it at three in the morning. Like how could you be cock blocked by a bloody robot? “Just give me the book and I’ll leave you in peace. I’ll make sure no one comes looking for you–” “You can’t promise me that,” Wanda remarked before she dropped her hand to take a step back. Then she looked you up and down. “You said they wanted you to calm me down, right? How about I keep both you and the book.”

You would like to say you were able to fight back. Prevent Wanda from knocking you out. But you were gone by the time she finished her sentence.

----

When light streamed into your eyes, the first thing you registered was the soft pillow underneath your head. Then you felt the rest of the bed and your eyes sprung open.

Your legs were bent up and out, Wanda’s red mist wrapped around your ankles and knees to keep them up. Meanwhile, your wrists were stuck to the headboard. Then your eyes rested on….Wanda?

Transparent Wanda reading that bloody book. You swear to god-you’ll burn that book the moment you get your hands–

“You’ll do no such thing,” Wanda’s voice cut through your apparently rather loud thoughts. You turned your head, trying to find her, and there she was in the doorway, sipping a cup of tea, watching you. Then she kicked off it and moved into the room and slid the mug onto a table before coming to the bed. “Maybe I’ll let you hold it one day as I read it.”

“I don’t...I don’t understand, Wanda, let me go,” you whispered as you began to struggle, pulling on the restraints again and again, but they weren’t budging. Neither was Wanda.

“I don’t think I want to,” Wanda hummed as she pushed herself onto the bed, “you see, I lost everything. My brother, Vision, Nat, Steve, my two boys, then Vision again. I lose every single family I ever have. Maybe this time I’ll succeed. I’m trying to find them, you see, with the book. Find them and pull them out. We can live here, happy, away from everyone.”

“We’ve done this story before Wanda, it didn’t–” “This time will be different, I’ll be more powerful, I won’t mess up this time,” Wanda pressed as her hands went to your inner thighs, moving them up and down your clothed skin. “And, when it comes to you, what they don’t know won’t hurt them. I don’t think I’ll let them see you. No, you can be my little secret. I stared at you for too many years, let you whore yourself out to other people. Not anymore.”

You drew your brows together. This couldn’t be happening.

“As you said, you’re meant to calm me down, right? Meant to pull me off some edge because everyone else was just too busy,” Wanda said as she positioned herself between your legs, bending down to kiss your jawline. You throbbed and pulled on the red strands wrapped around your wrist, but to no avail. “But I can think of another edge you can get close to,” she whispered as she pulled away again.

“Wanda, what are you–”

Her fingers slid in between your thighs, pressing into your heat, and a sharp gasp left your mouth. She began to rub through your jeans, cupping your heat, and you tugged again. This time, the red scratched the watch around your wrist and suddenly your clothes had snapped into the red armour Tony had built you years ago. Protective armour that replaced whatever you were wearing in a nick of time.

Useful.

The shift was enough to push Wanda off you and she stared down at the red and black armour with a slight tilt of her head.

“Well, that won’t do, will it?” She asked as her hands trailed down the cool metal. “Neat trick. Tony’s design, right?”

“Of course,” you responded after a moment, your chest rising up and down. There was no point in denying it-it was obviously Tony’s. Right down to the colours.

Wanda’s eyes turned red as the red mist circled around her hand as she lowered it back down. You flinched when you felt it slink in between the small crevices. The suit was meant to be protected against outside substances, able to go into water, but you supposed Tony didn’t exactly build it against Wanda.

“Wanda, you don’t–” “If you don’t be quiet, I’ll make you, do you understand me?” She hissed as she bucked her hand backwards and the suit around your hips ripped off you and tossed across the room. You whined as the cold air hit your bare skin, contrasting the building heat in between your legs.

You were left with nothing but the top half and the pants that wrapped around your thigh. “Much better.”

With that, she went back to what she was doing before but this time there was nothing to prevent her from slipping her fingers through your slick folds, the tips of her nails teasing your entrance.

“Look at you, already so wet,” she cooed and you gritted your teeth. This really couldn’t be happening. This was a dream. She could control reality, this was just a dream. “This isn’t me in your head, sweetheart, trust me–I would have cut the foreplay if I was creating this.”

She continued to massage your heat and it took you everything you had not to moan.

“Why are you…” you tried saying but you were cut short, once again, when her fingers found your hooded clit, using the tips of her nails to start playing with it. You bucked your hips instinctively and she chuckled.

“You said you wanted to help me, right?” Wanda asked and the building heat was beginning to become a little too much. “So how about this, sweetheart, you help mummy out by becoming mummy’s little stress reliever.”

Two fingers suddenly plunged into your entrance and your back arched. At least your clit got a little bit of a break but it wasn’t long until her palm began to grind against it as she thrusted the fingers into your tight entrance. Each thrust expanded your walls, letting her in even deeper, your own arousal making her movements slick and quick.

“Wand-” you began to moan but it morphed into a sharp yelp when she pulled her fingers out to slap your cunt.

“You’re a smart girl, sweetheart, it’s how you got around Tony for so long. I think you know exactly what you want to be calling me,” she said and suddenly she was back down so that her face was only inches away from yours and her fingers slid back inside of you.

Unlike last time, though, it wasn’t rough and sharp. Her fingers were slow as they moved inside of you, curling at the tips, scratching your walls. Exploring. She was exploring you and you could do nothing but whimper and moan.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? I know you would. Look at you, already so wet and submissive for me,” she whispered, scattering kisses down your jawline as she reached your ear to nibble on your earlobe. “I’ll keep you in here for as long as I need you. Ride your pretty little mouth as I read that book, fill you up again and again until you’re passing out. All you have to do is be a good little girl.”

Heat was curling through your body, that buzzing sort of heat, that made your vision blur. Your teeth were clamped together. You wanted to moan, they were in your throat, but even when you opened your mouth, no sound came out. Just silent moans. The fingers moving inside of you had grabbed all your attention.

Then she scratched that little sweet spot and it was that that pushed out a moan that bounced around the room. Wanda laughed, hitting it again and again.

“Let your mummy hear your moans, sweetheart,” she said before she pulled back to kiss you on the mouth, biting hard on your lip so you wouldn’t even try to close your mouth and stop the tongue that slid into your mouth.

Your stomach was twisting into knots at this point and seemed like every other muscle seemed to be cramping. You were close to climax. Your walls clenched around Wanda’s fingers. Just a little bit–

You groaned when she peeled herself off you. You blinked up at her, looking through what seemed like tears, as you were denied that relief. Relief from the throbbing coming from your cunt.

“You want to cum, baby?” Wanda asked as she pulled off her shirt. Underneath was a simple black bra that was quickly disposed of. Your eyes, naturally, landed on her chest. A chest that, even under the circumstances, made you drool. Wanda’s clicking your fingers drew your eyes back up. “Eyes on mummy, sweetheart. God, you really are a little whore, aren’t you? Tell me-do you want to cum?” You pulled on your restraints just once more but all it seemed to do was to make it even tighter.

You nodded, jerkily.

“Use your words, sweetheart, I very clearly established you’re not mute,” Wanda remarked as her fingers went down to her jeans, fiddling with her button.

“Yes. Please, I want to,” you mumbled, knowing you won’t be coming back from this point. Then again-if she could make you feel like that again...maybe that wasn’t so bad.

Wanda tilted her head as she hummed, not having to move much to slap your sore cunt again and you jerked. “Say it politely and maybe I’ll consider it.” You scrunch your eyes shut and mewled when she began to knead your pulsating clit again. “M-mummy, please,” you whispered and her hands left your cunt. Before you could even open your eyes, you felt her lips on yours. Soft, gentle...loving.

“Good girl...that wasn’t so hard, was it?” She asked and you could hear the ruffling of her pants as she kicked them off. “Now...mummy’s going into your head, okay? I promise it won’t be long.” You began to struggle again but the warmth of her powers quickly washed over you. Your memories began playing the past three months. You tracking her down. Refusing back up.

Then she was out again.

“You really told no one where you were going? Almost as if you wanted this to happen,” She said as she shifted on top of you. Shifted that you felt something rub up against your entrance and you flinched. She...she was packing. “Of course I am, sweetheart, do you really think I wasn’t prepared for you? I knew you were coming from a mile away, honey.”

And with that, she pushed the strap inside of you, not bothering to wait for you to adjust until she was completely inside of you. You arched your back again, pressing into Wanda’s naked body, as the pain of being ripped open rushed through your body. You moaned and grunted as you grew adjusted to the width and length of Wanda.

“Come on, baby, you can do it,” Wanda murmured into your lips and suddenly your wrists were freed. But then her own hands came up to wrap around them to press them against the pillows herself. “I know you’ve taken bigger. Do you think we didn’t know? Didn’t know you and Nat were fucking every other night?” The comment drew you out, just for a moment, and you shook your head but all she did was pull back slightly to slam inside of you again.

“Don’t lie to me,” Wanda snarled, “tell me, tell me the truth. Use your words.”

It took only a few more thrusts of her strap filling you up again and again that the words began to spill out of your lips. “S-she found out. About my status as a shield status. Fuck,” you hissed out, barely able to hear your own words over the lude noises of Wanda beginning to pound into you. This wasn’t fair-you couldn’t dream of talking when she was fucking you like this.

“So you whored yourself out to her to make sure she kept her mouth shut,” Wanda said, finishing the sentence and you nodded jerkily. “You little slut. I bet you liked it too, just like how you like me pounding into you. But you’re mine now. Not hers. Not Tony’s. Mine. My little whore.”

She shifted upwards so that her chest was dangling above your face. “Suck your mommy's tit, baby, I saw you admire them before.”

It was a welcome change, you had to admit, to trying to formulate sentences and words around the moans and screams spilling out of your mouth. Your head leaned forward, closing the distance, so your mouth could wrap around her erect nipple and your walls clenched around her strap as you heard her moan.

Her hand moved to the top of your head, her nails scraping against your scalp as she interwove her fingers through your messy hair. Your tongue lapped at the small bud between your teeth and she began to move her hips in time with your tongue.

Your now free hand wrapped around her body so your nails were digging into her shoulder, drawing Wanda down even closer so you could take more of her tit into her mouth.

The same heat that had built before was coming back, and you weren’t sure how long you could hold on at this point.

“You can cum whenever you want, baby, just this once,” Wanda purred, hearing your thoughts, and it was all you needed, that confirmation, to come undone. Your walls clenched around the strap and you could feel Wanda slowing down as thrusting became just a tad more difficult and you screamed into her tits, careful not to clamp your jaw shut, as the orgasm rushed through you.

Even through it, she continued moving inside of you, and you almost felt like you could pass out.

“Good girl,” Wanda whispered. “Oh, I could get used to this. I’m going to keep you in here, do you hear me? Make you a good little whore for me to come home to.” They did say your mission was to help Wanda calm down.

#wanda x reader #smut #wanda maximoff smut #dark!wanda maximoff #top!wanda #dark wanda maximoff x reader #misfitwrites #wanda maximoff x you

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years ago

Text

marmalade taffy

Helmut Zemo smut & feels. Soft!Dom Zemo, non-superhero!AU, Zemo being the weird uncle of college!Maximoff twins. This was written on a whim so if someone signs up to beta-read, I will shower you with affection and reminders to drink water. The Reader is addressed as "you" and is not described - race/age/body type neutral. The language I used for Sokovian is actually Serbian. Word count 2,8k.

Fun fact: I have mild synesthesia. Emotions/feelings and some people have an assigned color (and sometimes smell) for me. That's how the name of the fic was born. This fic feels like the colors of marmalade and taffy, look them up. This fic is dedicated to my lovely @slothspaghettiwrites , the shining beacon in my misty, rocky beach. (You're a periwinkle for me, by the way. I thought you might ask.)

When you first see him all you do is raise an eyebrow. His sleek, well-maintained vintage car stands out almost grotesquely amongst the various sedans and mom vans on the campus and you can see the glint of his wristwatch even from afar. Wanda's and Pietro's sheepish smirk only makes the situation worse - the girl's attire obviously screams "liberal arts" and her twin brother doesn't seem to have anything better to wear than tracksuits.

The man behind the wheel is unfazed. He is calm and collected in that European way, not conceited, just waiting. For what? You don't know. His eyes trail over you but he doesn't smile, simply gives a tiny polite nod. If you hadn't had extensive conversations about cultural differences with Wanda, you'd say he was extremely rude.

Shy, quiet Wanda, who's eyes lit up seeing her favorite not-actually-uncle. In a surprising dash of energetic agility, she hopped right into the car, her numerous scarves a bright flash of saturation against the campus grayscale. You giggle and wave at the departing car, snorting when Wanda's hand reaches over to briefly honk the horn, causing the driver to swerve the tiniest bit, his eyes trained on you in the rearview mirror.

He comes and goes often. Almost always in a different perfectly restored vintage car, mostly with the same polite mask of bored contentment. You know he's royalty in his home country and can't help but wonder how frivolously the twins act around him - no, free. He gives all the appearance of a silent, strict man.

You're proven wrong rather quickly. Freshman year left behind you, you and Wanda decide to ditch the dorms for an apartment - she finds one rather quickly and it's just you two in it even though it is ridiculously huge and the rent amount she requests is equally ridiculously small. Not the one to look a gift horse in the mouth, you pretend nothing is out of the ordinary and buy yourself a new pair of shoes.

Helmut - Wanda finally formally had introduced you two - doesn't come by often, however the visits are always... Eventful. He's not at all what it seemed to be; in the quiet of your apartment, a witty, incredibly clever man resurfaces from under the stoic façade. The Slav in him easily lets him consume alarming quantities of alcohol together with Pietro, who opted to stay in the dorms with his idiotic football team, and - you couldn't believe your eyes at the time - dorkily dad-dance squat in the middle of your living room, unfazed by your and Wanda's cackling.

The way Helmut is absolutely unbothered by the audience and the laughter, pale face flushed from the wine and a little smirk stretching his thin lips into expression almost catlike. The maroon turtleneck stretches nicely across his chest, as thinly as your lip that you worry between your teeth.

Pietro raises an eyebrow. You shrug.

"Got something in your eye, no?" He teases playfully and you shrug again, taking another swig of your nice, European beer.

There are more gatherings, more parties and quite a few rides in his car, when the wind blows your hair in all directions possible and intermingles it with Wanda's as you giggle and squeal in the back seat. Helmut always indulges you two; the word 'no' simply does not exist in that man's vocabulary. He insists politely but firmly on a dinner with all three of them on your birthday and the gifts he brings make your eyes pop out and your face heat.

"A woman like you makes any sensible man want to shower you with the finest gifts," Helmut's voice is quiet and his accent is thick and somehow, it makes it all that harder to refuse. He smiles like usual - tiny and a little secretive, as he pecks your cheek, filling the air around you with the smell of his cologne. It makes your mouth water and your fingers clench helplessly around the half a dozen of silk paper-wrapped boxes.

The summer rolls in and it's hot and humid and finally you don't have to worry about waking up at the crack of dawn or classes or the annoying boys who can barely take a no for an answer. The invitation to Helmut's villa doesn't come as a surprise; Wanda had been riled up over it since early May and Pietro and his whole damn football team were equally as thrilled.

You pack flowy dresses, daisy dukes and swimsuits. The expensive jewelry and handbag Helmut had gifted you, too, since the villa is surrounded by a whole neighborhood meant solely for the rich and famous. Wanda is absolutely unbothered by her own bohemian chic and you quietly envy her; the longer you get to know her, the more you realise of how much actually she does not give a fuck about anything besides her paintings and sculptures.

It's admirable, really, because she is talented. And Helmut knows it, too, having had collected and kept every single work Wanda had made, showing it off in the various rooms of his two-story mansion. The abstract fits in well and is a great conversation topic for him and his equally important friends. There's an endless stream of them in the first days and Wanda isn't overtly happy, choosing to run away to laze around the pool with you more often than not.

Helmut's friends stop at the glass wall between the inner side of the house and the pool to stare at you two, too, causing something dark and tense flash across his features. There always had been a sort of tangy obscurity in him, you've noticed, but not nearly enough for you to grow concerned. It added the bittersweetness, the flavour and consistency to the modest man.

Although calling him modest might have been a mistake. The moment you can't shake off one of his friends after a polite chit-chat seems to never end, Wanda nowhere in sight, dread and unease digging their sharp, spindly fingers in the soft flesh behind your rib cage, Helmut is suddenly there, arm wrapped almost possessively around your waist.

"Draga mea, Wanda is looking for you. She says it's urgent," He stares the man down with the eyes of a vulture. "I believe we haven't been properly introduced," Helmut seems to not realize he's still clutching you in a grasp of steel as the man opposite you rumbles out his name, few syllables you'd forgotten seconds after he spoke them for the first time.

"Baron Helmut Zemo," the fingers brush and squeeze once, gently, over the valley of your waist before letting go. You miss the rest of their peacocking, walking away with a fight and fire inside of your hammering heart. Anxiety and longing and confusion mix and blend, combining into a cocktail that has you beelining for the bar like a woman parched.

The next day you're sleeping off the hangover, first in your bed and then by the pool - Wanda had run off into town for one thing or another, and knowing her, she'd be back home at the crack of dawn. It was blissful peace, the soothing balm for your troubled heart and your aching head.

"Hungover?" Helmut's voice was quiet and a little bit teasing. None of the Eastern Europeans had ever showed the signs of having any ill effects from the alcohol they drunk, unlike you.

You stretched, too blissed out to care about the skimpy strings and straps of your bikini, basking in the gentle morning sun. "Mmm, not anymore," a swim in the cold pool had done wonders.

Your soft pink float rocked as Helmut's footsteps quieted, giving way to a short splash and the sound of his breathing somewhere in your space. Just as you cracked open your eyes, he reached out a hand to steady himself next to you. "I wanted to apologize for the situation yesterday. That man was stepping out of line. He is not welcome in my home anymore."

You stare at him and then you snort. The blunt was he usually speaks is so easy, it flows oh so effortlessly. No mind games, just honesty. You want to pay him back in kind. "Don't worry, Helmut. I just had a bit too much to drink," that was the truth. Any other time and you wouldn't have hesitated to unapologetically steer clear of any creep. Heat and bubbly don't mix and that was your own mistake.

"No, printsesa," the man in front of you let loose some of the delicious darkness, eyes growing stormy, hand gently resting over yours. "Some men are fools, they are nothing but animals. You deserve to feel safe, especially in my home." His lips stretched into a smile, water dripping down his jaw and making tiny circles form in the azure of the pool.

"I can't argue with that," you replied, catching the stray liquid and following the trails it made with your eyes. His forehead, dripping down over his eyes, making Helmut blink the stray drops away until they landed on his lips, trickling down his chin.

You swallowed, opting to dip your toes into the cool pool water before you could make a fool of yourself. The water splashed towards him, making a mischievous grin grace his usually serious face, as me made a half-hearted attempt to splash back weakly, making the water sizzle on your sun-kissed skin. Never the one to back down from a challenge, you knitted your eyebrows in mock offense, eagerly letting the water wash over you as you abandoned the float in favour of creating waves with your whole body.

The temperature contrast was delicious and Helmut's laugh even more so as it echoed in between the high walls of the building surrounding the pool. The sun was nearly at its peak, shining over your head in a beacon of heat that almost matched the one inside of you, the one that had blossomed there months ago and finally grew into a steady smolder, shooting sparks whenever you were around the baron.

It was hot and wet, the same feeling chasing you two when you finally kissed. His hand firmly planted on the side of your neck, his nose softly brushing against the underside of your jaw, Helmut was in no rush to taste you, to savour every millimeter of your sun-kissed skin. The man left you with your fingertips trembling and heart scrambling for purchase somewhere in the deepest pits of your belly.

"What are you so hungry for, mmm?" Helmut's voice rumbled next to the shell of your ear; you could barely focus, skin singing underwater, where he held onto you like a lifeline. "You have hungry eyes, ljubavi, tell me what it is and I'll give it to you," your bodies pressed flush against each other, his eyelashes flittering against your cheek.

"You," the maximum capacity for your brain was one-syllable words and you used it sparingly, failing to suppress a gasp when Helmut's mouth latched around a particularly sensitive spot right under your jawline.

Teeth scraped over it before he soothed the sting with his tongue. "All the things in the world, I could give them to you. And yet..." He sounded almost disappointed. Perplexed, just as you were at the strange admission. "A woman like you would have men fighting for your attention yet you give it to me so freely," he murmured softly, capturing your lips in a slow, fluid kiss once more. "I will make sure you have everything you could ever want."

Helmut's touch grew bolder as he steered the two of you towards the shallow end of the pool. The taste of him was intoxicating, like the sweetest, most alluring poison you'd ever tasted: you knew that once you had one small bit, you'd be addicted, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. His words were clever and his mouth even more, making the short stumble upstairs last hours.

A wall, baroque tapestry, marked with the wetness of the pool water, where you allowed yourself to be pressed against as he leaned into you with the entirety of his broad frame, domineering the kiss effortlessly.

You panted as your back hit the soft, million-thread count, unmade sheets of the baron's bed, staring up into his eyes and finding your own reflection in his pupils, blown wide with lust. The tiny smirk was back but now his unexpressive face was marred by a gleem, accentuating his moist, puffy lips you'd licked into and bitten in a heated frenzy.

"Beautiful, printsesa," he stated with quiet firmness, leaning over into you to unclasp and toss away the upper part of the bikini. The bottoms followed suit, flung carelessly somewhere. His hands ran over your as it sang, every tiniest nerve hypersensitive, coming alive with a fervor borne of months of longing, complimented by the summer heat and cool waters.

"Helmut," your voice wavered, flowed on the syllables as his clever, clever mouth trailed hot down your chest, briefly submerging each nipple into the sear of it. Goosebumps rose over your exposed body, highlighting a trail for him, a trail he followed eagerly. Kisses were candy sweet and marshmallow soft.

Hot breath at the apex of your thighs had you mewling and arching into it, having abandoned all shame, and Helmut found it amusing. The petite chuckle made an appearance, his fingertips ghosting over the part of your lower lips; he was as amused by your impatience as he was enthralled by the youthfulness of the gesture. "Shh, ljubavi, I will make it feel better," his accent as thick as clover honey and just as saccharine.

The first movements were tentative, brief and so light, the demanding moan slipped out of your mouth along with a growl of frustration. You felt continuous chuckling, slight stubble rasping along the sides your thighs; you felt him pick up pace and steady his hot hands on your hips as you attempted to trash against the overwhelming stimulation your pussy was receiving.

His moans, loud and wet, drove you closer to the edge like a drunk drove a Ferrari; Helmut's skill was unparalleled but it lacked precision as he lost himself in the moment just as much as you.

"Fuck, fuck, I'm- I'm so close," you managed to grunt out before the crescendo hit, eyes rolling back into your skull as the influx of more, more, more hit every nerve ending in your body. You could do little more than rest your legs on his shoulders as the noble man, the quiet storm lapped up every drop of your release.

He made the inside of you weak.

In seconds, Helmut was back on top of you, grinding his arousal into you desperately, almost begging for it and all you could do was let your body respond, mimic your lover, clench around nothing just as you felt him twitch.

"Tell me you're mine," he demanded hooking one of your legs over his hip, eyes boring into yours with everything in them plain on display. It was a terrifying thing: as if your heart had suddenly grown legs, stood up and walked out into the bare, wide world, open for all to see. "Ti moa, skaži eto," his native tongue made his voice even more hoarse, you couldn't resist anymore.

"I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm yours," you chanted the words like a prayer, hoping he'd be merciful - and he is. No, there's only a hidden tenderness in his hands as he drives into your with increasing force that shakes you and makes your core quiver, igniting your flesh once again like the color red; it's messy and it's sloppy and you're barely aware of Helmut muttering something into the crook of your neck as you feel yourself clench down on him with a choked moan.

"Fuck," hearing him, the polite composed man, bite the end of his own orgasm into a curse made a wave of magenta hot rush travel through your body at lightning speed, his cock pulsating and coating you, claiming you from inside out so sweetly you couldn't resist a shallow gasp into his cheek, a gasp he mirrored as his own oversensitive flesh was once more assaulted by your combined lust.

The tide of his breathing was high; both of you spent yet still drunk on the newfound sense of togetherness. It was clear as a summer's day that in your arms laid a man who'd once lost something important and you - you were a someone who's never had anything of significance and perhaps, this time each other's arms would let you both keep whatever it was that you missed.

#helmut zemo x y/n #helmut zemo x you #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo smut #baron zemo x reader #baron zemo smut #baron zemo x you #baron zemo x y/n #zemo smut #zemo x reader #zemo x you #bun writes #baron zemo #zemo #i am KNEELING

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maomao-words · 4 years ago

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Soo, I recently logged in into my old Tumblr account, @hejer-maomao, and lo and behold, I found that my poorly-written and extremely short Solo Leveling HCs have reached over 600 notes with more than a few asks wanting to read more.

So, I yielded! (✿´‿`) I sat down for two days and finally finished reading Season 2 of Solo Leveling webtoon (I was initially going to wait for it to finish up to binge it T___T) and I’m now back with fresh content to please everyone!

Contains subtle hints to happenings from SL Second Season. It also gets a bit steamy at the end, so be careful~

Sung Jin-Woo as a Boyfriend HCs (Part 2): Dating Jin-Woo as an S-Rank Hunter:

As the world slowly began to fall into chaos and turmoil with hundreds of gates manifesting daily all around the globe, your country finally decided to pool in all of its resources into collaborating with South Korea’s hunter; Sung Jin-Woo.

The plan was quite simple. Your home country would send in its best S-rank hunter; you, to help speed up the clearance of some of the most difficult gates which spread in Korea in return for a promise of help from Jin-Woo if an S-rank gate were to appear in your native lands.

The fact that the governmental officials chose to send you, their best hunter and the sole asset they struggled for a long time to keep hidden, just to be able to form such a thin connection with Sung Jin-Woo testified to how terrifyingly strong the Korean hunter was.

Once you arrived in Korea, the press awaiting at the airport were too shocked to even move at the sheer amount of bodyguards by your side. While it was a known fact that your abilities were of a non-combatant hunter, the details of your powers were kept under tight wraps. As such, you couldn’t accept interviews nor remain exposed in public for too long without proper protection. Without even sparing the countless journalists desperately fighting to catch a glimpse of your face a glance, you immediately disappeared into a black car prepared for you beforehand before being escorted to the Korean Hunters Association headquarters.

Not even a second ticked by after you placed the tip of your high heel past the building’s entrance, when a suffocating presence enveloped your senses. Your blood boiled within your veins and you could feel goosebumps slowly forming on your arms. Your nearest bodyguard called your name in worry, but you could only concentrate on the intense magic waves slowly getting closer to you, shamelessly demanding your utter and complete submission.

“Hunter Sung Jin-Woo,” Your manager’s worried voice echoed as the demonic presence finally entered the room. “I will have to ask you to tone your magic down. Our hunter is extremely sensitive when it comes to mana, and the slightest amount of exposure to it will bring her powers to the surface.”

You clenched your teeth and dug your nails into your palms, drawing tiny droplets of blood. You raised you head, your eyes already transforming into pools of crimson and fire. In front of you, you could see Jin-Woo’s initially indifferent eyes slowly widen in surprise.

“A Banshee.” Jin-Woo’s voice carried a hint of curiosity as his lips curved in a smirk. “Yes,” you calmly responded as your transformation now enabled you to withstand his powerful presence. You both locked eyes, intense magic waves radiating off of your bodies as you acknowledged each other’s unique strength.

“When your government proposed this deal with us, I knew they were hiding a pretty powerful trump card,” President Go Gun-Hee finally spoke, breaking the silence. “But for you to turn out to be a Banshee! I might say, this is a pleasant surprise!”

You inwardly breathed a sigh of relief as Sung Jin-Woo nodded in agreement. Your country desperately needed this collaboration to work, especially considering Jin-Woo’s world wide fame. The possibility of Jin-Woo rejecting to even try and work with you was too high but your country decided to gamble on his interest in your precognitive abilities as a Banshee to make the deal work.

Working side to side by Jin-Woo was a challenge, to say the least. The man already possessed everything and needed no one by his side as support. Even the most powerful S-rank hunters could be labeled as utterly useless compared to him.

Once you finished clearing your third joint gate together, you mentally patted yourself. Thank God I’m a Banshee, or else I would have only been a dead weight to him.

With your accurate vision into the future, Jin-Woo’s abilities soared to another level, enabling him to finish clearing A-rank gates in under fifteen minutes. After all, no gate’s interior structure was too complicated for you, nor was the abilities of any of the monsters residing inside hidden to your eyes. The first time both of you emerged from a gate, barely ten minutes after you entered, the journalists waiting outside were stupefied. You remember grinning widely at their expressions, spontaneously turning to catch Jin-Woo looking fondly at you, before turning away with a deep blush once you locked eyes.

Your heart did not stop racing that night even after you parted ways with Jin-Woo and headed to your own hotel.

The first kiss you shared happened a week before your due return to your country. Sung Jin-Woo’s mood has been gloomy ever since you received the notice to return home.

You have grown closer in the past few weeks that you spent by his side. He has been your trustworthy shield in every single gate you entered to the point you stopped taking any of your A-rank bodyguards with you despite your manager’s disproval. Jin-Woo has been so gentle with you, making sure he constantly has one arm wrapped around your waist in case of any monster attacking you while you used your powers. Due to his protection, you have failed to sustain even the smallest scratch even though the gates you raided daily were too dangerous for hunters below S-rank.

You shared meals together, stole each other’s desserts and made fun of one another. Jin-Woo even made it a habit or him to escort you to your hotel after your work is done, softly pat your head before disappearing within his dark shadows.

By then, you were fully aware of the love that fully bloomed within your heart but you refused to mutter a word to Jin-Woo. You were simply terrified. Terrified that those eyes that looked at you gently and were filled with tenderness will turn cold at your confession. But one night was enough to completely change your mind.

After escorting you to your hotel room, an unusually sullen Jin-Woo merely nodded at you and turned around to leave without even patting your head. Your heart was torn apart at the thought of him leaving you at that state, so you quickly extended your hand, intending to catch his sleeve to stop him. But your field of vision was quickly filled with Jin-Woo’s handsome face, his fragrance filling your senses as you found yourself pinned against the hallway wall. You blinked in confusion and stared at Jin-Woo, but the man you loved did not speak and simply tightened his hold on your wrists.

You tried to move your hands but they refused to even budge under Jin-Woo possessive hold. “Jin-Woo,” you softly whispered, your heart aching more at the sadness filling his eyes.

“...Don’t leave. Stay by my side.”

Your eyes widened at the soft words spoken beside your ear. You trembled as Jin-Woo nosed at your neck, breathing in your familiar scent. His lips soon touched the heated skin of your throat, alternating between gently pecks and warm licks. You whimpered at his hungry touch. Your legs were growing weak with each peck he left on your throat and almost gave in when he exposed his teeth and bit down, a low growl in tow.

“Jin-Woo,” you whispered again and again before he finally lifted his head towards you. His eyes were glistening with desire and his lips were slightly reddish, making him even more irresistible to you.

“Kiss me,” is what you ended up saying instead of telling him to stop. In a heartbeat, Jin-Woo’s lips were on your own, warm and starving for your taste.

You had so many issues to solve ahead, but at that moment, you chose to leave all of the burdens on your shoulders fall and only focus on the man standing in front of you.

Everything else can come second to him.

#solo leveling #sung jin woo #sung jin woo x reader #sung jin woo hcs

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thefanficmonster · 4 years ago

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What's It To You?

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Summary: To some people, relationship labels aren’t important. To some they aren’t important only in theory. Well, Y/N finds out she falls in the later category, leading to a falling out with her boyfriend Corpse.

Requested by Anon. You’ll know who you are when you read the fic 😉 Thank you for the ‘angsty argument’ request. I hope I captured what you had in mind and I hope you enjoy the read. Love, Vy 🥰

The time is nearing 7PM and Corpse has barely eaten anything. I always keep track of his meals and time spent in front of a computer screen, making sure he doesn’t spend too much time exhausting his eyes or starving himself. He never notices he’s hungry until he takes a bite of something and his appetite grows in matter of seconds. The real battle is to get him to take that first bite.

I get up from the couch, walking into the kitchen. I open the fridge, scanning its contents for any ideas that might pop into my head for dinner. When nothing comes to mind, I resort to my last option - asking him. There’s only a slight chance he’ll be of any help. He’ll most likely say he’s not hungry or that he’ll make himself something late. He never does. I’ve gotten used to him being a man-child when it comes to eating. In the eleven months that we’ve been dating, I’ve force fed him more times than he has eaten on his own terms.

I go upstairs, stopping outside the door to his recording room to see if he’s talking to someone so I don’t walk in and interrupt. When no noises come from the inside I knock.

“Come in.“

Upon opening the door, I’m met with Corpse nonchalantly sitting in his desk chair, leaning as back as he can without tipping over. Arms folded behind his head, legs stretched out in front of him. The whole nine yards, suggesting that he not streaming.

“Hey.“ He greets me as he turns his chair a bit in an attempt to face me

“Hey, what’d you like for dinner?“ He opens his mouth to reply the millisecond after I have spoken my question. I already know what that reply will be so I hurry to prevent it, “And no, ‘later’ and ‘I’m not hungry’ aren’t on the menu.“

He sighs, shaking his head as though he’s disappointed that I caught onto his game. The smile that slowly makes its way to his lips, however, suggests that he appreciates my concern. “Grilled cheese sandwiches? I mean, if you feel like it.”

I smile, relieved that the usual convincing portion of our interaction on this specific matter has been avoided. “Ok. Be down in fifteen then.” I give him a nod before heading back out into the hallway.

Before I am able to close the door, I hear someone else’s voice come from behind me. “Hey Corpse, was that on your end?”

Oh shit, he wasn’t muted

“Yeah man, sorry. Accidentally unmuted myself.“ Corpse sounds unbothered by this, but I am a little uneasy now.

Corpse and I have agreed to keep our relationship by a ‘won’t ask, won’t tell’ rule - if someone asks him if he’s in a relationship, he won’t lie and say no, but we haven’t gone public nor do we plan on doing so without someone asking us about it head-on. Well, not us. Him. His friends don’t know me and neither do his fans. I’m not in the same industry. I don’t stream nor film YouTube videos. The most I do for that platform is help Corpse with some editing when he needs to have a rest. So, if anyone were to reveal our relationship, it’d be him.

“Oooh, who was that?“ A girl’s voice asks teasingly. “Corpse, what are you not telling us?“

By this point, I’m out in the hall but I left my ears in the room. I know I’m not in the right here - eavesdropping is most definitely not nice, but I can’t help myself.

I hear him chuckle, “Nah, it’s just my friend Y/N.”

My heart drops so suddenly for a reason beyond my understanding. I feel like a kid feels when it’s told Santa isn’t real - I can’t believe what I heard.

I hurry to get back downstairs as soon as possible and also as quietly as I can. It’s tough, running with a pit in your stomach and a knot of I’m pretty sure is tears in your throat. When I’m finally in the kitchen, the aforementioned tears are blurring my vision. I try to blink them away but accidentally send one of them trickling down my cheek.

I’m aware this might be an overreaction and if I stopped to think I could probably find ways to justify what Corpse said. But I’m genuinely hurt, and I hate that I am.

I’ve never cared about what others know about me or think of me. Same goes for my relationships. I don’t put labels on things nor on my connection to people. I am surprised and disturbed by how much the label ‘friends’ bothers me. We’ve been dating for almost a year now, you’d think calling me his girlfriend would be second nature. Guess not.

I swallow the hurt and surprise, deciding to keep myself busy with the preparations for the dinner I was planning to make. However, keeping my hands full and giving my eyes a place to look doesn’t stop my thoughts from eating away at me.

* * *

Twenty minutes later the sound of a door opening echoes from upstairs, followed by the sound of footsteps going through the hallway and then down the stairs.

“It smells so good in here.“ He comments, his eyebrows raising when he takes in the freshly made sandwiches on the kitchen island. “You’re the best, Y/N.“

“Hmm, aren’t you lucky you have a friend who knows their way around the kitchen, huh?“ I reply sharply, not even sparing him a glance.

In the twenty minutes I was left alone with my wilding thoughts I declared that I wouldn’t beat around bush when he comes downstairs. That I would address the issue and tell him exactly how I feel about it. What I didn’t plan was being so harsh. I actually barely contain a wince when I realize how sharp of an edge my words had.

I feel ten times more guilty when I see the regret that flashes on his face, “You heard that.” He grips the edges of the table, leaning down and letting out a sigh, “I’m sorry, I panicked.”

The anger in me evaporates, leaving room for the hurt to keep spreading and take over me. I was never really angry with him, I’m just upset by the fact that his immediate reaction wasn’t to refer to me as his girlfriend.

“Why would you panic? What’s it to you if they know?“ My voice is barely above a whisper now, the tears I’m fighting back are clogging my throat, not allowing me to sound as clearly as I’d like.

“What’s it to you? I thought you didn’t care.“ He argues back, his gaze travelling from the tabletop to my eyes. I see the guilt in all his features and his body language.

“I thought so too.“ I shake my head, “But hearing you call me a ‘friend’...’just a friend’ stings. I don’t even know why, but it does. It feels almost like you are embarrassed of me. If that’s the case you can just tell me, you know?“

In a blink of an eye he’s crouched down in front of me, one hand holding both of mine while the other cups my cheek. “It’s not. It has never been and it will never be the case. You are one amazing person, Y/N. You deserve the world, not to be stuck with me. I’m just...” He trails off, his eyes not able to focus on mine any longer, “I’m scared of how people knowing about us will affect our relationship.”

My blood starts boiling again. I know I need to get away from him before I reach the point of saying something that’ll hurt him, so I untangle my hands from his grasp, pulling away from him. “Weak excuse, Corpse. You know it will change nothing except make me feel more included in your life. I will no longer feel like I’m a house rat no one knows about.” I stand up, unable to look at him, and start heading for the staircase.

“Y/N, please! ”I stop dead in my tracks when he calls out my name, his footsteps following behind me. “Don’t be...-”

I turn around, cutting him off in the process, “I need to be alone right now.” I tilt my head in the direction of the dining table, “Sit down and eat dinner. We’ll talk...later.”

* * *

Now that it’s been almost twelve hours with no contact between us I realize that my reaction was justified only to a certain extent. I understand his concerns and I could’ve expressed mine a little more calmly and in a lot less accusatory manner. But what happened happened and all I can do now is go over to him and apologize, establish a proper communication to resolve the issue that I so stupidly blew out of proportion.

My phone died sometime during the night and has been sitting on the charger but still turned off for a while. I go over to it and press-hold the start button. While it’s powering up I start changing my from my pajamas into my regular clothes, noticing a small stain on my shirt in the process. As I’m examining the stain, my phone starts going crazy with notifications, causing me to jump and drop my shirt.

“Fucking hell.” I mumble, disconnecting my phone from the charger and looking at the huge list of notifications on my lock screen. They are all alerts of new followers, likes and tags, non from people I know. Non except one.

@ corpse_husband tagged you in a post

Wait what?

I tap the notification which leads me to a picture Corpse posted two hours ago. It’s a picture of me taken in the living room without my knowledge. I’m an oversized sweater and yoga pants, my hair in a messy braid and my attention caught by the book in my hands. My glasses have slipped a bit down my nose, suggesting that I’m too concentrated on the contents of the pages in front of me that I haven’t noticed.

We started off as friends but it didn’t take long for her to become my best friend. And then she stole my heart. I know you’ll read this eventually, Y/N. So...hi. Love you.

PS - the sandwiches were bomb 🖤

I’m more than caught off guard. Like a surprise hug from behind, warmth spreading all throughout my body.

Without a second of hesitation I put my phone down and run to the bedroom door. However, I don’t make it very far considering I nearly run straight into Corpse’s chest as I exit the room. He catches me before I knock him straight to the ground, thankfully.

“Aren’t you a rocket this morning. Where are you headed?“ He chuckles, holding onto my upper arms.

One look at his smile, a single word out of his mouth and I’m melting. I walk straight into him, wrapping my arms around his torso, hiding my face in his chest. He comfortably rests his chin on the top of my head, not asking any further questions until I finally answer.

“Right here. I was heading for you.“ I whisper before I pull away enough to be able to look him in the eyes. “I wanted to tell you how sorry I am. I was being childish and overdramatic and I’m sorry about all I said. I was really upset.“

“It’s ok, baby. I’m sorry for making you upset in the first place. I understand now how much it means to you.“ He caresses my cheekbone with the back of his hand. “I...um...tried to make things right by...“

I push up on my toes, pressing my lips against his, putting an end to his timid stuttering. “I saw it.” I mumble in the kiss.

“Did you like it?“

“I loved it.“

“Did you read the comments?“

My heart skips a beat when I hear that dreaded term. Just the thought of reading through the comments terrifies me. I tell myself that some strangers’ words aren’t gonna have an impact on me, but I know they will. Especially since these ‘strangers’ mean so much to Corpse.

I shake my head. He pulls away, taking my hand and leading me towards the living room. “You have to. You’re gonna love them.”

I reluctantly follow him, plopping down on the couch next to him as he pulls out his phone and scrolls through the comment section of the picture he posted. He was right. All these people have said such things about me and about our relationship. Some verified names are also there, sharing their support much like the fans.

“See, this is why I was nervous. I’ll have to do duels for your attention now.“ He glances at me, leaning in and kissing my temple as he sometimes does so impulsively.

“You don’t do duels when you are already sitting at the throne. Right next to me.“ I once again capture his lips with mine, tempted to never pull away, but also tempted to keep reading the comments.

Damn, he might be right about the duels.

He takes his phone from me setting it aside as he slowly lifts me and settles me in his lap, never letting our lips detach.

Nevermind. Fuck the duels

@susceptible-but-siriusexual @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @hacker-ghost @itsminniekat @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios @maehemscorpyus @loraleiix @letsloveimagines @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help @enigmaticmaze

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flightlessangelwings · 4 years ago

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Special

Din Djarin x gn!reader (no use of y/n)

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: non really, fluff, pining, feelings, soft!Din, Gorgu being adorable

Notes: This one is dedicated to one of my best friends: the lovely @ollypopp, happy early birthday babe!! Thank you to @we-can-be-himbos for beta reading for me too!

The hull of the Razor Crest hummed quietly as you sat with Grogu. It was a rare moment of peace and quiet in your crazy life with the little one and the Mandalorian, and you came to treasure these moments whenever they occurred. You had just escaped from another bout with a group of bounty hunters who were after Grogu, and this time you felt lucky to have made it out in one piece. But that was thanks to the Mandalorian, who always looked after you and the child and did anything within his power to keep you both safe.

You gathered together three small plates of food while the little one watched with wide eyes. When you felt his gaze on you, you grinned at him, “I know buddy,” you told him softly as you put the finishing touches on one of the plates, “I’m almost done.” You heard him coo softly as he looked down with a little pout and it almost tore your heart out. The kid knew how to pull at your strings for sure, but you didn’t mind at all.

Then, as you held a piece of fruit, you got an idea.

“Grogu,” you called his name with a grin and waited for him to look back up at you.

He answered with an inquisitive coo and immensely lit up when he saw that you held out the fruit for him.

“Come on, you can do it,” you encouraged him as you watched his eyes squint in concentration. A few moments of tension went by as Grogu focused his energy into channeling his powers.

You whispered soft words of encouragement as he worked to summon the piece of fruit in your hand, and when he finally did, you erupted into cheers, “Yes! Good job!” You jumped with joy as Grogu happily nibbled on his prize with a grin of his own on his face, “You snack on that while I bring this up to Din.”

Grogu happily munched without a care in the galaxy as you grabbed one of the trays and went up to the cockpit. You knocked on the door before you let yourself in, a habit you developed without a real reason to. Din never minded when you joined him, and never asked you to knock before you entered. Yet you did anyway, just in case you caught him without his helmet on. That consideration was something Din really appreciated about you, among other things.

“Here, this is for you,” you set the tray down next to where he sat. The two of you stayed in awkward silence for several moments as you fiddled with your fingers.

“Thank you,” he finally broke the silence with a nod, and his breath caught in his throat when your face lit up with a smile. Din loved to see you smile, and he would do anything to see it every day.

You bit your lip and nodded, “I’ll leave you to it then,” you lingered in the doorway for another moment before you finally went back down to join Grogu. Din watched the doorway for a time before he let out a heavy sigh and turned his gaze to the tray you lovingly prepared for him.

Lost in a dreamy haze, you were completely unprepared for the sight that met you when you came back into the hull. Grogu had not only summoned his tray, but yours as well and he sat surrounded by knocked over piles of food. He sat contently as he munched on the various pieces you had set out. He had made a mess, but he didn’t seem to care at all.

“Grogu…” you chastised him playfully as you rolled your eyes. You couldn’t help but laugh though, and he quickly joined in your laughter.

You grabbed a cloth and wiped up his face and tried to clean up around him. Grogu watched you as he took another bite.

“You’re really special, kid, you know that,” you said with genuine care as you pinched his cheek lightly, “Special just like your dad.”

He cooed at you and tilted his head to the side, which made you feel the need to continue, “You’re both so strong in your own ways, and you both have a will like no other. No wonder you two bonded so well,” you flashed a sad smile, “I don’t know what I’d do without either of you.”

Grogu cooed happily as he reached out for you with a wordless plea to be picked up. With a smile, you complied with his request and cradled the little being in your arms as you went on, “I feel so lucky you chose me,” you said to him in a soft voice as you nuzzled his forehead with your own, “Both of you,” Grogu giggled at the mention of Din, “That Mandalorian has a good heart under all that beskar,” you placed a finger to your lips, “But that’s our little secret. We won’t let anyone know that the big tough Mando is secretly a softie.” That made Grogu chuckle again, and you joined in his laughter.

Unbeknownst to you, Din had come down into the main hull and heard everything you said to the kid. He felt conflicted; he never wanted to eavesdrop on you and break your trust, but every word out of your mouth went right to his heart. He stayed perfectly still and listened in silence as you poured your heart out to the little one, and he could tell that you meant every word you said. The earnesty in your voice made his heart melt under the beskar, and Din wanted nothing more than to reach out to you and hold you close.

When you suddenly turned around, you gasped loudly when you were almost face to face with the Mandalorian. He quickly reached out to you as a reflex to protect both you and the child in your arms, but retreated back into himself just as fast when he realized you were startled with his unexpected presence.

“Din…” you breathed as you held tight to Grogu, “How… I… We… Ummm…” you stumbled over your words as you tried to formulate a complete thought. He stood silent as you cleared your throat and started again, “How long were you standing there?” you finally asked in a hushed tone.

Clearly you were nervous about how much he had heard, and when he tilted his head down in response, you knew he heard everything you said. Your eyes went wide as you dropped your gaze down to the floor. You tightened your grip on the child as a rush of nerves ran through you.

“Din I…” you took a step back as your voice quivered.

He interrupted you with your name, “Wait,” the sound of his voice stopped you in your tracks and you looked up to meet the gaze of his visor. Both of you fell silent for several moments, and the tension could be felt in the room. “I’m sorry,” he finally said, “I didn't mean to eavesdrop.”

You bit your lip and nodded, “It’s ok,” your voice was barely a whisper but you knew he heard it.

Din took a breath before he added, “You’re special too.”

That made your eyes widen and you felt the way your heart pounded in your chest. If the child felt it, he didn’t show it and he just watched the two of you in silence. Maybe he sensed the emotions from the two of you and decided to stay quiet and let you both work it out on your own.

“I’m glad you’re with us too,” he added as he took a tentative step towards you. He was covered head to toe in beskar armor, and yet Din had never felt more vulnerable or exposed than he did at this very moment. He wasn’t used to dealing with feelings, be it his own or someone else’s, but he felt it too important not to let it go. You were too important to let go.

No, Din would face this head on like he did everything else in his life.

“You’re stronger than you realize,” he went on as he took another step closer when you didn't back away, “You keep us together,” Din chuckled softly, “And I don’t know what I would do without you,” he echoed your words to Grogu earlier and your breath caught in your throat.

Din carefully reached out to cup your face, gentle in his touch so that you could push him away if you wanted to. When you didn’t, he slowly wrapped an arm around you and rested his arm on your waist. It felt better than he ever could have imagined to hold you close like this, and when you let out a heavy exhale, he knew you felt safe and comfortable in his embrace.

You leaned into his chest and placed your free hand on the beskar plate in front of you. When you finally let your breath go, you felt Din hold you tighter and suddenly everything felt right. With Grogu in your arms and you in Din’s, you felt like the pieces of the puzzle finally came together. The three of you stayed like that for some time, just comfortable with each other.

This time it was you who broke the silence with a soft giggle. When Din questioned you, you peeled yourself off his chest to meet his visor again, “I was right.”

He tilted his head to the side in a wordless question.

“You do have a good heart under this,” you patted his armored chest and your heart skipped a beat when you heard him laugh softly.

“That’s supposed to be your secret,” you heard the grin in his tone and it made you smile even brighter.

Din used the hand that stayed on your face to lean your head forward a bit while he tilted his helmet down to meet your forehead. You let him guide you and you let out a sigh of relief when you felt the coolness of his helmet against your face. Din rubbed his thumb across your face in a comforting manner and you could feel his affection even through the layers he wore. You could have stayed like that forever, but a coo from your arms called your attention.

You glanced down at Grogu to see him rub his eyes and yawn, “I think he wants to go to bed,” you said to Din as you looked back at him. You couldn’t help the yawn that you let out as you suddenly felt tired as well.

“I think we all could use some rest,” Din said as he dropped his hand from your face and held it out for you to take.

It took you a moment to realize what he meant, but you lit up and took his hand when you did. The three of you all got settled in the little bunk and it didn’t take long from there for you all to fall asleep. And it was the most restful, peaceful sleep you all had in a very long time. You all were safe and secure together, just as you should be. And you all had never been happier.

#the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djaren x you #din djarin

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ktheist · 4 years ago

Text

(why) we got married | m

synopsis. they say the 7th year of your marriage is always an uphill battle - but with the existence of your prenup coming to light thanks to taehyung’s lawyer slash family friend’s slip of tongue - first it reached your and his families, and then your family’s close friends and then your family’s close friends’ friends until - almost everyone is speculating on the grounds of you and taehyung’s marriage being anything but love.

you’re not sure if you’re even going to make past the second year mark in your marriage. but is the reason you got married really as important as why you choose to stay or leave?

muses. chairman!taehyung x stewardess!reader

alternative title. as you are.

inspired by. the 1 by taylor swift

genre. arranged marriage au with a pinch of drama and angst

words. 12.5k

warnings. explicit content

verse. knj. ksj. myg. kth. pjm. jjk. jhs. story time.

in your defense, neither you nor taehyung made an elaborated plan to deceive both his family and yours with the marriage which yes, had been founded upon a contract. but that’s not the point - the point is, your father and brother never sat down with taehyung and had a man-to-man talk. and his mother never sniffed out your reason for marrying her son being his abundance of wealth. but when all comes to light, thanks to taehyung’s lawyer slash family friend who made a slip of tongue - your parents and his were the ones most vindictive about who’s digging whose gold.

and to be completely frank, you were one article away from calling up your mother and telling her that you seduced taehyung into marrying you - just so she’d stop baring her fangs at mrs. kim. these days the headlines keep blowing up your mother and mrs. kim’s completely-by-chance meeting at a five star restaurant that erupted into manic yelling and pointing fingers.

“what did you say, you-” the audio bleeps for a split second before your mother in law’s voice comes back on, “-it was your daughter that seduced my son!”

“you crazy-” the audio bleeps again, “-you better watch your mouth or i’ll-”

the remaining seconds of the video are filled with bleeps that make it hard to even understand what either woman was saying. a wave of regret floods your chest as you scroll down the words strewn out into a juicy, tea-spilling commentary on your and taehyung’s past - the writer seems to pick up the minor little details that, in hindsight, leaves a big fat question mark out in the open.

when exactly did ___ ___ and kim taehyung start dating?

the answer was never.

the two times you and taehyung were photographed together was at a cafe near your office and the other, near his penthouse wherein you were discussing the terms of the contracts by yourselves. the one near taehyung’s penthouse being the final stage where you both signed it on your ipads. to the naked eye, you probably looked like you were on a date and being young professionals, it was only a given that both of you had some sort of electronic on you at all times - even during dates.

everyone just assumed you were together and with the assumption of being together, comes the conclusion that you were deeply, madly in love. was it the way the picture caught you two looking at each other with smiles on your faces? was it it’s sister picture that stilled you in a frame where you’re looking at your ipad and taehyung looking at you with the same - possibly remaining - smile from the moment the first picture was taken? that, you will never know.

but so it goes, you started going to socials together because taehyung needed some cleansing from his... charm-filled past. he used to go to those with different partners each week, and the previous woman that went with him always ended up refusing to talk about it or boasting about her ‘relationship’ with him. that was of course, after yoo now-kim jeongyeon got married three years ago. he used to attend those socials with her for the most part.

but someway, somehow, his public record was clean of any drama.

you would know, you’ve seen the man in action with your very eyes. on your 7th social event together, son chaeyoung had marched up to you and him like a ticking time bomb, red-faced and flaring nostrils and all. you were about ready to stand your ground when taehyung softly touched your hand that was around his arm and asked if you minded if he left for some fresh air.

of course you didn’t - respectfully, you couldn’t care less what taehyung does as long as it didn’t bring a negative light to you and him and the dynasties you both carried over your shoulders. everyone had their eyes wide open and ears perked for what was to come when taehyung walked chaeyoung out to the hallway. but nothing happened, and you were left to mingle on your own until he returned, looking devilishly handsome as always and strutted up to you with an air of refined sureness.

chaeyoung didn’t come back with him but everything remained quiet - not even a dramatic “stay away from my man!” at any point of your contract. you never asked how he did it - you thought it involved money, but over time, you realized it was just kim taehyung and all the things that made those women attracted to him. and just like a flame, he’d burned the moths’ wings until they couldn’t flutter over to him anymore after your wedding.

“uh, miss, we’re here,” the driver calls, meeting your eyes through the rear-view mirror.

it takes you a few moments to close the cover of your ipad and shove it into your handbag before pulling out bills that’s worth more than your car ride, “thanks, keep the change.”

and with that, you hop out of the cab, ready to put on a facade of grace and confidence. the staff who knows you greets you with a range of emotions, some with unhinged admiration from day one, others with curiosity on what’s truly hidden beneath those darken ray bans - without a doubt, aware of the drama going on between their boss’ mother and their boss’ wife’s mother.

either way, you make sure to return each smile and greeting like you always do. red lips sewn across your face like an ever smiling doll.

it’s only once you’ve entered the elevator and luckily left to your own devices, do you let your shoulder sag, the smile downturned into a frown all the way until a ding echoes into the small compartment and a red ‘8′ flashes on top of the doors.

you don’t fail to fix the secretaries a smile, relief flooding over you at how their warm - or was it profession-required - greeting hasn’t changed even after the rumors spreading about your inevitable divorce - of course, purported by you and taehyung’s mothers.

“son, if you don’t divorce that woman right away, i-i,” and here you see for yourself, the woman who called you ‘my daughter’ with the most loving voice, stuttering into a fit of rage, “i don’t think i can face my friends anymore - that bitch jihye has been slandering our family saying you used her daughter to get hold of the company!”

mina is about to knock on the door and announce your arrival when you hold a hand up before placing an index finger to your lips. she doesn’t need to be told twice when she nods once and steps back to leave you eavesdropping on your mother in law and husband.

“that’s fair,” there isn’t even a stuttered beat in his response.

“what-”

“that’s part of the reason we got married,” he goes on, “and ___ needs some help setting up her brother with some connection so it works out - and mom, please refer to ___ and mrs. jeon by their names, ___ is still my wife and mrs. jeon is the woman who raised her.”

“y-you-” mrs. kim stutters out in disbelief just when you decide to make your presence known, hand on the door, “you ungrateful child, oh my- oh my-!” you walk into the sight of the woman falling backwards with mr. ji the kims’ lawyer stretching his arms out to catch her, shouting “madam!” while taehyung launching himself across the room, “mom!”

mrs. kim ends up hospitalized.

“it was a case of stress and overworking that should go away with a good few days’ break,” chairman kim who also opts to assume his seat as part of the hospital’s doctor and a family friend of taehyung’s, fixes you with a reassuring smile.

the stethoscope and white robe gives off a more professional vibe than the sophisticated air you see him wear at family dinners.

“that’s a relief - it’s nothing life-threatening,” the smile you return doesn’t seem to sit right with him as his eyebrows knit together and a cloud seem to loom over his face.

“it’s really not in my place but,” he pauses, probably weighing out the pros and cons of offending you with what he’s about to say - but he doesn’t need to worry too much because after today, you probably won’t be seeing each other at dinners any time soon, “me and jeongyeon,” he means his wife and taehyung’s childhood friend, “are here for you if you need to talk - i know mrs. kim can be a little unreasonable at times, but give her some time. don’t give up on her.”

you nod once, murmuring a hollow ‘thanks for that, seokjin’ before watching the man strut down the hallway, the sound of his footsteps accompanying his leave. only when you’re left with the sound of your breathing, do you finally allow chairman kim’s words to sink into the deepest depth of your heart.

it’s not an easy task to keep your heart still and unbothered by your own mother in law’s words. even now, you can still hear her embellishing her headache, back ache, joint pains and every sort of non-fatal pains she has enough to get taehyung to stay by her bedside - so he doesn’t go home. doesn’t go back to the place where you two have built for yourselves.

and yet you can’t help but agree that - “if you’d divorced her just like i told you, i wouldn’t have fallen so ill!” she sighs, just as you’re about to slide the door open.

all of a sudden, the image of the delicate woman swaying and tumbling towards the ground flashes at the back of your head and you instantly recoil, as if the door was made from fire.

the fear of worsening mrs. kim’s health at the sight of you has you backing away, choosing to wait at the seat in the hallway instead. seconds stretch into minutes and minutes into hours until you feel your body being shaken.

your eyes which you never noticed fluttered close - snap open only to gaze at the face of an angel - a concerned one at that judging from the way his eyebrows knit together. and then you’re hearing the smooth baritone of his voice. you almost pulled out your phone from your purse to ask if you could have it recorded so you could listen to it as a lullaby.

that is, until you realize the angel’s disheveled wavy hair and eyes that look like they’re well on their way to falling asleep standing.

“taehyung,” the name slips out of your mouth with a surprised gasp as you note the pristine pastel background of the vip section, body jolting to sit up from your previously slumping position.

“have you been waiting all this time?” he takes a seat next to you - and only then do you notice the unkempt mess that he is.

the first few buttons of his shirt is undone whilst it hangs over his shoulders, untucked, tie hanging loose over his chest as he drapes his blazer over his arm. the sight is almost alien, especially coming from someone who can’t even stand a crease in his shirt.

“what time is it?” you wonder, reaching for your phone while he checks the rolex on his wrist - which proves to be faster than rummaging through your bag.

“seven-thirty - you’ve been waiting here for more than five hours,” and just your luck, right as the words hit the air, your stomach decides to remind you of the meal you’re about to miss if you stay here any longer.

the heat rushing to your cheeks a second later is immeasurably hot, “o-oh, okay.”

clearing your throat, you ask, “so how was mother? seokjin already told me but i wanted to hear it from you that she’s okay.”

“you know how mom is - keeps saying her head hurts from the fall even though mr. ji managed to catch her halfway,” in any other circumstances, you and him would have found humor in how your mother in law’s overembellished diagnosis to gain attention from you and taehyung - but this time, it’s only one of you she wants that from.

it doesn’t stop you from chuckling though, “it sounds just like her - maybe i should make some ginseng chicken soup to help her get better... or beef seaweed, you know, her...”

swallowing the lump in your throat is a feat - and unfortunately, you’ve failed terribly as taehyung gather you his arms.

only then, do you realize you’re sobbing like a child, emotions running wild as everything comes crashing in like a storm - his mother, your family, the whole fucking tabloids that’s being written and ready to be posted in the next few hours and the fact that the marriage may have been a fraud, but the bonds you made along the way had been more than just business. mrs. kim was a mother to you as much as yours is to taehyung. there may have not been any love between you two but you cherish his family like he cherishes yours.

“i’m sorry - for causing a- a scene - for causing mother to f-faint-” you weep and weep.

in your crying fit, you barely notice the way his arms tighten just the tiniest bit as he sways you left to right gently, one hand on the back of your head caressing your hair as he whispers something along the lines of “it’s not your fault” and “we’ll figure it out together.”

and so for the nth time in your one year of marriage, you’re banding together to capture mrs. kim’s heart again. the first time you visited her with taehyung, she narrowed her eyes at you and demanded taehyung explain as to why he didn’t come alone through the very same eyes next second.

when the man pretended not to notice and even placed a hand on your lower back just as your steps faltered in a ‘i’m with you’ kind of way, she opted to stare out the window while you unpack the broth you made onto the table. the portion you poured into the bowl you brought was getting colder by the minute as you spoke to her, “mother, i made beef seaweed soup, it’s your favorite, isn’t it?”

the only indication that she was listening was the way her eyes scanned the bowl of broth in front of her and proceeded to keep them on the window until you had to leave.

and so goes your second and third visits being received with shoulders made of ice a kind of silence that never fails to make your stomach churn with a sort of nervousness you should have felt when you meet your future husband’s parents for the first time. but the first time you met mrs. kim, your chest was filled with nothing short confidence and woo her you did along with taehyung’s relatives and closed friends. at the time, you didn’t think what you were doing - fooling everyone into believing that you’re marrying each other for love - would come biting you in the ass.

if karma existed then this probably you getting what you deserved.

on your fouth visit, you’d come alone because taehyung had an urgent meeting to attend. mrs. kim spared you a once over just like a rabbit who voluntarily and follishly hopped into the lion’s den.

“mother,” you offer her a smile, “how are you feeling?”

when silence is the only response you get, you quickly rummage through the paper bag you’d brought with you, “have you eaten? i made chicken soup-”

“don’t bother,” her voice cuts through the air like a blade. eyes as piercing as spears, “sit down, i know taehyung has an urgent meeting - it’s the only way to get him off my back.”

you’re not quite sure what she means but you have an inkling that the reason her hostility has yet to reach its pique is because taehyung has been giving her subtle looks to ‘mom, be nice to my wife’.

with a nod and a smile that seems to be glued to your face, you ask, “how was the bibimbap yesterday?”

though she didn’t cut you off, her response doesn’t exactly shed hope to your efforts being paid off when she dismissively says, “i gave it to mr. ji.”

the immediate ‘oh’ that tumbles out of your mouth is purely reflexive even though you know she’s never touched the meals you packed for her. but having her admit it is a different kind of heartbreak.

“i see,” is all you can say as you feel tears prick your waterline, a lump in your throat.

“this,” she places a folder of documents she seems to have ready by her bedside into your hands and without any explanation, sends you off with, “if you have any conscience at all, you’d sign these papers and stay out of our lives. even though i never read the contract but i’m sure a smart woman such as yourself would’ve thought to include the alimony as well - you understand what i’m saying right?”

you tried to say something - anything but at that point, the look in her eye already paints a picture of you clinging onto taehyung’s wealth. and yet you still tried, “m-mother, i-...”

but no words come out and as though her point had been proven, she’d huffed out a sigh and tuned you out like she always did on your previous visits.

so you walked down the hallway with shades covering your tear stained eyes and a skip to your step that oh-so-badly wishes to break into an unceremonious run to a place where nobody knows you. where nobody looks at you with rounded eyes for the briefest moment that easily translates to mrs. kim ___, wife of kadore’s chairman who married her husband for money.

but all you can afford to do is keep your head up until you reached the bathroom door, check each stall one by one to make sure no one’s inside before you finally set down the document and your handbag on the sink. the first sob hits the air as soon as you see the woman in the reflection’s reddening eyes and smudged makeup.

it takes you several breath-holding, eyes-shutting and a couple more sobs breaking through the cracks of your walls before you can finally pat some powder onto the patch of skin under your eyes and on your cheeks where most of the damage was done. by the time you’re back in the hallway with shades darker than the night sky, you find your feet melting and becoming one with the floor at the sight of a man with jet black hair standing at the reception.

and almost as though sensing the heat of your gaze through your ray bans, the man turns around to reveal a pair of doe brown eyes and the smile you’re so used to seeing now missing in action and replaced with a straight line.

“jungkook...”

“how’d you know i’d be here?” you start once you’ve both placed an order for your drinks at the counter.

“how long are you going to keep doing this?” instead of answering your question with a real answer, jungkook heaves out a sigh, eyebrows knitting together in vexation as he fixes you with one of those ‘i’m not telling mom and dad but this is our problem now’ kind of look.

“how ever long it takes,” is all you say, reverting your gaze to the smooth surface of the table.

“are those the divorce papers?” you refuse to look at him but you know he’s burning holes inside the beige colored folder sitting underneath your handbag on the seat between you and him.

“i don’t know,” you shrug, shoulders squared as you meet his eyes through your shades, “i haven’t opened it yet.”

but jungkook being jungkook, he takes that as a bare affirmation, choosing to interrogate you on a different topic, “have you seen what people have been saying about you?"

“i don’t really care about what people say,” is all you have to offer.

“you haven’t,” he nods in conclusion, “they’re saying you can’t have enough of your husband’s money... they’re saying you’re coming here everyday to grovel over his mother’s feet to let you stay married - that’s how i know you’d be here. and judging from the looks of it, they’re not too far off.”

it takes you a good solid minute to stomach the new found information. you haven’t been checking social media because of those same exact malicious comments but that was just the beginning of a downward spiral of your reputation - you never thought your efforts and hard work of burning your fingers on hot stoves and redoing dishes to get a perfect one would be met with an assumption of groveling over mrs. kim’s feet all for your husband’s money.

“god, i need a smoke,” jungkook huffs, receiving a look from the waiter that’s setting your drinks down. only after she’s gone does he present you with another set of questions. “was he the one that paid off dad’s debts? all of them? even the loan sharks?”

“that...” you nod once, failing to keep your head high as you twirl the straw of your frappe around but don’t even take a sip, “and the money i said i had saved up and lent you to start your company,” you quickly add,“- but taehyung doesn’t care about that - he wouldn’t accept it even if you wanted to pay him back twice the amount.”

“then why are you...” it’s the way his voice breaks at the end that makes you look up only to see a man whose eyes are a little sunken and cheeks a little hollow - almost as if he hasn’t been sleeping nor eating well because of his foolish sister, “why are you letting that woman trample all over you like this? wouldn’t it be easier to just get a divorce-”

“that woman is my mother in law, jungkook. at least, practice the same level of respect you’ve been preaching about,” you speak over him - it’s funny how taehyung once stood up against the same woman you’re standing up for, for you.

when all that follows is silence, you go on. this time, in a much demurred tone, “and it’s not about letting myself get trampled over... if mom found out you lied about something and she’s acting like mother does because she’s hurt, would you just go on with your life like nothing happened?”

it takes a moment for him to register what you said before taking on a much less hostile tone though still just as firm, “___, this is your life... i don’t know what kind of ‘happy family’ delusion you’ve been living in but i’m willing to bet all my money that it’s not taehyung that gave you those papers to sign and made you cry in the bathroom stall for thirty minutes-” he throws you look, “yeah, i saw you go into the washroom after coming out of her room. i was gonna call you but you looked like you had to take a huge dump so i waited but we know that’s not the case now.”

silence lapses between you for the umpteenth time before you stubbornly announce, “i could’ve been taking a dump - you don’t know.”

the sight of jungkook’s jaw dropping and hitting the ground is laughable, if not for the fact that he’s shaking his head five seconds later. vexed. irritated, “this is getting ridiculous - we’re going home. now.”

and he doesn’t mean the penthouse that you and taehyung shares.

shooting up, his hand grasps your wrist and he would have dragged you all the way to the car if you hadn’t protested.

“jungkook, no - i’m not going anywhere,” pulling your hand back, you stand a good one head shorter in front of your brother which doesn’t do much for your cause.

“___, if not for you then do it for mom and dad - they’re getting too old to be worrying about their one and only daughter’s marriage prospect,” he tries to coax, knowing full well your heart would wither like a flower at the mention of your parents worrisome nature - especially when your business is out in the open no matter how hard you try to hide it, “and you haven’t been answering their calls either.”

“i know, i just-” before you can even finish your sentence, a flash of garnet and bridal pink catches your eyes.

“____... jungkook, i didn’t think you’d be in korea. how are you?” taehyung’s warm baritone is laced with confusion as he stares at your brother and then at you for a sort of explanation but before you can even open your mouth, jungkook’s already has his hand wrapped tightly around your wrist, “yeah, well someone’s gotta clean up the mess you started. ___’s coming back home with me - back to her real home.”

“i’m not - stop saying that and let me go,” you tug on your wrist only to wince at the pressure of his grasp, “jungkook, you’re hurting me!”

“hey, let my wife go,” taehyung takes a peaceful step forward, “we can talk ab-”

“oh no,” the laugh tumbling out of jungkook’s mouth drips with malice, “no, see, you lost your knight in shining armor privilege after you quite literally lied to our faces about how you’ll take care of my sister until ‘death do you apart’ when all it took was mommy dearest pretending to get sick while everyone labels my sister a gold-digging wh-”

you taking a step forward with a balled fist, is completely instinctive and you would say taehyung prancing towards the dark haired man with a fist that actually hits the mark, was also instinct-driven. except that he probably has better aim and his punches hurt more than yours ever would.

the first one, you admit was satisfying but when your brother ends up on the ground with your husband throwing blow after blow, you have no choice but to intervene.

“taehyung, stop!” the shriek that echoes against the walls almost burst your eardrums. you would have believed it to be mrs. kim if not for the fact that she’s nowhere in sight and you’re the one with your hands grasping onto your husband’s arms, trying to hold him back from sending blow after blow onto your brother’s half-conscious face.

“taehyung, don’t stop,” you frown, taking a seat next to him while swiping the ice bag off his lap before gently pressing it to his darkened jawline, “seokjin said to keep the ice on the bruise for at least an hour.”

“ahhh - ow - ow-!” the man whines, eyes screwed shut as his grits his teeth together but doesn’t recoil from your touch.

“maybe you should’ve thought twice about throwing a punch at a trained boxer,” you shake your head, lips curling into an inevitable smile.

after taehyung’s had a round of punches in, jungkook managed to flip them over so that he’s the one pinning the elder man down. the events that unfolded after that were the least bit pretty. the nurses and doctors attending nearby patients rushed to the two struggling men and then there’s you, shifting the shouting to your brother to “god damn it, jungkook! stop being a dick!”

it took five men - doctors and just-arrived guards alike - to pry your brother off your husband who still tried to get a punch in and was held back by seokjin who finally arrived at the scenes with half a mind to knock the both of them out as he calmly orders for jungkook to be dragged into one of those empty rooms akin to the one mrs. kim is staying at.

because taehyung was the one who started the fight, seokjin decided that an ice pack would do for the taller man whilst he treats jungkook and orders the other doctors to go back to their post.

picking up the mixture of garnet and bridal pink roses, he stares at their wilted petals for the longest moment, face painted with dejection. they must have been specifically ordered for mrs. kim-

“these are for you,” your train of thoughts halts in its track at taehyung’s words. his hand levitating midair as though unsure of whether to hand the bouquet to you or toss them away, “or were,” then he captures your gaze and you don’t think you can ever find your way out of the maze he’s able to hold you captive in with just his eyes, “you deserve fresh flowers specifically plucked from its stalk - you deserve a whole garden, actually-”

“taehyung,” your free hand covers his as if to say, “they’re lovely, thank you.” placing the ice pack down, you cup both hands around the flowers, bringing them to your nose, “and they smell wonderful - i love pink roses.”

“i know,” the tiniest smile peeks from his lips, “you told me that.”

“i did?” you blink, surprised.

“at our wedding reception, you got a little tipsy and started sobbing because the roses were blush pink and not bridal pink,” the sound of his chuckles drums in your ears like hymns just like it did a year ago.

back when you were decked in an elegant off shoulder white gown after changing out of your wedding dress. you’d stood in the sidelines while your families and friends danced to their hearts’ content to the sound of the music. white champagne in your hand, the background beginning to turn fuzzy and your thoughts began to get louder.

it didn’t help that the object of your frustrations was smack dab covering every inch of the vicinity from the gargantuan rose covered backdrop, to the tiny vases in every single table.

the sob hits the air like the first raindrop. you had to clasp your hand to your mouth as if you were about to cough to hide your mouth stretching into your crying mouth - you don’t know how to explain it but your lips tend to morph into an unshapely sight whenever you cry and covering it when you feel the waterworks coming has always been second nature. as for the tears - they were concealable because the lights were dim enough.

but then there was someone next to you - he just popped up out of nowhere really and because you were standing in the darkest corner, you couldn’t pick out any defining features besides his height but you didn’t have much time to ponder on that as his question fills your eardrums, “so, how does saying goodbye to the bachelorette life feels like?”

“it’s terrible,” you’d wept some more and he shifted on his feet slightly, as though noticing the tear in your voice but luckily for him, he didn’t even have to ask because you were spilling your innermost thoughts out loud, “they- they gave me blush pink and garnet roses- i want bridal pink and garnet roses.”

“oh,” distinctively rang in your ears among the sound of instruments and joyful laughter.

then comes another input, “i didn’t know they messed up your request,” and you didn’t know why he’d sounded like he was about to murder someone.

“yeah and,” you sniffle, “- and i didn’t wanna say anything because- because i don’t wanna be that bratty bride who picks on every little detail.”

that morning, you woke up to a box full of roses and they were the lightest shade of pink. taehyung was already awake and offered to ring up breakfast for the both of you after he’d bid you a good morning and a “something came in for you.”

the gifts were prearranged to be sent to the penthouse instead of your suite but then again, there were chocolates and champagne bottles that made past the hotel doors because of its edible nature - the roses too... their fleeting livelihood seemed like you’d enjoy them better in your hotel room than a week later after you’d come back from your honeymoon.

the card didn’t even leave initials but had ‘roses for a rose’ playfully written in cursive black ink. your heart blooms a garden but your head is what makes you search for your newly wed husband, only to see him looking at you with a tender smile - one that you thought manifested because of your own involuntary smile when you’d read the note.

“i don’t think these are for us,” you could feel the frown setting into your features, causing taehyung’s own brows to furrow.

“i think these are for... me,” and so you told a tale of a woman with ambitions rather than stars in her eyes, who felt a compulsion to at least tell the truth to her husband and the stranger whom she met at her wedding. of course, omitting the teary eyed part and the blush and bridal pink roses part.

taehyung had easily chuckled while the staff set down plates of delicacies on the round meant-for-two-people-on-a-honeymoon table, saying, “he has fine taste - they’re from halls & tara,” after the staff left.

it didn’t occur to you that the h&t initials on the top right corner of the card stood for the most well known florist in seoul until he’d pointed it out, which could only mean he’d been suspicious enough to take longer than a glance at the flowers.

“do you mind if i keep them? at least, until they’re not as fresh anymore.” you quickly added the last part.

“you can keep them in a vase and have them live longer... why? are they not the shade of pink you wanted?” he blinked once, hand halting midair as he was about to take a mouthful of pancakes.

“well- no, they’re perfect actually - i love them,” you almost stutter in your haste to explain while trying to be casual about how devastated you would be if- “it’s just that... i really didn’t know him or who he was- but he obviously knew me because it’s hard not to know the lady of the day- i’m not breaching any terms-”

it’s the way the trickles of laughter filling the otherwise silent room that got you to clamp your mouth shut. the way kim taehyung looked so ethereal and majestic in the pristine black and white setting of the room.

“i don’t mind,” he’d clarified a moment later, eyes twinkling with the remnants of laughter, “i understand why he’d want to desperately send you these if only to see you smile softly like you did - you look beautiful when you smile, by the way.”

the compliment had caught you off guard and your heart might or might not have somersaulted but if there’s anything seven years of becoming a stewardess has taught you, it was to always prepare an adequate response to every situation - and at that time, kim taehyung was infamous for his quick wits and reputation with the ladies. of course, words sweet as honey would come easy for him.

“thank you,” and so were the words of gratitude on your part as you schooled a smile and dug into the pancakes your husband made.

but sitting on the black leather couch, holding onto a similar colored bouquet, you can’t help but blurt out, “that was you? i was bawling my eyes out because of some mismanagement to my husband who didn’t even recognize?” something between a disbelieving scoff and an irony-induced laugh escapes your mouth, “why didn’t you tell me?”

taehyung’s shoulder line shakes as he shrugs, hand going up to scratch the back of his head as he drops his gaze, as if searching for the answer only to look back up into your eyes with a, “i didn’t think you’d be as happy if you knew it was me,” his gaze falters, like a bud of fear blooming behind his irises,

“why wouldn’t i be?” you blink once, not quite understanding where he’s coming from.

that is, until a small smile slips onto his lips and it’s heartbreaking to witness and even more devastating to know you’re in no place to let your arms gather him into a hug like you wish. to kiss his forehead until his worries disappear.

he twines his fingers with yours, thumbing the diamond on your fourth finger, “i’m sorry that i took away your choice to marry for love - that’s a bit corny isn’t it?” he scrunches his nose and you can’t help but giggle, “it’s not just some short term contract since we both agreed divorce is never in the equation,” neither of you believe in tainting the sanctity of marriage - no matter what cause it was founded upon - with separation, “but god, the things you’re going through right now - i promise i’ll make things right.”

taehyung’s eyes tend to appear in different shades along with his emotions - though you know it’s most probably the lighting. dark brown is for when he’s scrutinizing the hollow smiles and empty compliments he gets at functions. but sometimes you find yourself catching hazel.

like right now, as they capture yours and look at you as if you’re the only one he sees.

“taehyung...” you thought you knew what you wanted to say when you said his name but as you get lost in the midnight dessert of his eyes, you’re not sure if you can even muster so much as a squeak without falling apart.

and that’s when a knock reverberates into the air like thunder, forcing you to jolt away from the man until no part of you is touching any part of him.

“hey,” a somber voice greets as jungkook leans against the doorframe, “so they fixed me up and the chairman wants me gone in,” he looks down at his wrist, “two minutes and fifty-three seconds.”

blinking away the remnants of the emotions away, you stand up, giving the man a once over. his button up is marred with a trickle of deep red a few inches over his chest, hair matted and face sporting different stages of bruising. the bleeding’s stopped for the most part.

“you’ve definitely seen better days,” you announce, walking around the couch to get to where the man is rolling his eyes at.

“sorry for calling you the w-word,” that’s definitely wasn’t what you were expecting which prompts the belated, almost suspicion induced,“...okay.”

“i did that because i needed to confirm something,” he goes on, eyes flitting over your shoulder where you know your husband is staring right back, burning holes inside your brother’s head before he looks back at you, taking a full 180 in attiude, “and don’t worry about mom and dad - i’ll take care of them.”

it takes you a moment to digest his proclamation, all the whilst hyperly aware of the hand that makes its way on your lower back as a familiar dior scent fills your senses, “so you’re not gonna drag me home?” as though disbelieving the words that came out of your mouth, you add, “that’s all it takes? a few punches to the face?”

the twitch of his eyebrow doesn’t go unnoticed by you. nor does the deep breath he forces himself to take at the blatant insult and insinuation of your future boxing lessons to which he warns, “don’t get any crazy ideas,” then he turns to the man next to you, “i let you hit me - let’s get that out of the way first.”

and before either you or taehyung manage to get a word in, jungkook hand comes flying to your forehead, a loud sound of skin smacking against skin echoing throughout the room as you tumble backwards with an audible “ow- hey!”, barely noticing the much larger hand that’s covering yours. inspecting the patch of skin where jungkook just flicked.

without even an apology for the uncalled for assault, he nods at something over your head, probably taehyung, “you take care of my sister, you hear me? cause there won’t be a second time.”

and then he’s gone like the wind - you would have tracked down that wind and give him a taste of his own medicine like you did when you were children. you’d jump on his back and attempt to bite a chunk of his head if your nannies didn’t pull you apart - but right now, you couldn’t escape taehyung’s hand on your waist even if you wanted to.

“let me see,” he instructs, gently coaxing your hand to unclasp the patch of skin on your forehead so he could softly blow on it.

you stay like that, standing at the doorway with your bodies too close and taehyung refusing to unhand you until your cheeks are replaced with a different kind of heat than the anger you felt for your god forsaken brother.

“god he’s an ass - you should’ve messed up his face more,” you huff, and you don’t know why - maybe it’s the way you stomp your foot, maybe it’s the way your cheeks tend to puff when you’re feeling vindictive or maybe it’s a mystery locked in taehyung’s head that you’ll never know but his chuckles sound like hymns in your ears.

and you thought that was the end of the electrified sensation on your skin where his touch lingers until you feel a pair of the softest lips on your forehead, right where the flick was supposed to throb. a grinning taehyung looking back at you as if asking, “my nanny used to do this to me when i bump my knee against a furniture...” a flash of worry blooms in his eyes for the briefest moment before he voices his concerns, “hope the magic still works.

the sight is heartwarming. endearing even. and you can’t help smile, cheeks hot, “it does - it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

and just as you thought he’s about to release you from the torment of having your heart skip multiple beats at a time and step back, he presses another peck on your forehead. a smile gracing his features, “another one for good measure.”

it’s a surprise your legs are still holding you up with how jelly-like they’ve become.

“th-thank you.”

mrs. kim discharged herself a week after the fight but not without standing in front of the hospital with her frilly fur coat and gucci handbag while she looks at the camera and consequently straight into the screen, “i have yet received a publicly apology for what jeon jungkook did to mine by the jeons. my taehyung couldn’t even kill a fly, let alone start a fist fight-” she shivers uncontrollably as though overcome with chills, “such a barbaric, uncivilized act can only come from-”

“you’re watching that?” a smooth baritone fills the room as a figure struts in beige slacks and oversized creme sweater, “again?”

he sits on the edge the backrest of the couch, looking down at you with an expression that makes your stomach churn. with butterflies or guilt for breaking your promise to stop checking out these articles, you don’t know.

“sorry,” you mumble, placing the ipad down a few inches from your feet as you bring your legs up against your chest, arms wrapped tightly around them, “worrying about how the press twists mother’s words comes from the plentiful of time i have on my hands after being sacked, i guess.”

it’s been a week since you’ve received your new schedule. to which you received a call right after to head to the headquarters in the heart of seoul only to be told that-

“___, you gotta understand, this whole fiasco going on with your family... it’s giving the airline a bad rep,” mr. bang leaned back against his recliner, his eyes hiding behind the beam of his glasses, “people are leaving bad reviews on the website that has absolutely nothing to do with our services but has everything to do with you and your husband.”

he meant the growing dissatisfaction upon the revelation of the artificiality of you and taehyung’s marriage.

nobody’s caught jungkook and taehyung in a video but there’d been witnesses and ‘sources’ affirming the two getting into a fistfight at the hospital. and so another record has been made in your long list of family drama.

“sir, please,” you could feel your eyebrows joining together from the sheer frustration and reality anchoring into the pit of your stomach, “i’ve been working for korean air -for seven years now- check my reconds,” hope blooms in your chest as you suggest the idea to your superior, “i’ve never been late, never had a customer complain about me, never made any mistakes prior to this-”

“it doesn’t matter what you did before this, ___,” he cut you off, voice heavy with emphasis.

but you weren’t backing out that easy, “please, it’s not fair to lay me off for something i have zero control in.”

at your wording, the man physically flinched, almost as though struck by a spear before he shook his head, denying your claims.

“you’re not fired,” he corrected, “you’re on paid leave... until everything calms down.”

it took everything in you not to let the frown slip onto your face. first it’s paid leave and then it a one month notice before they officially sack you - you’ve seen how this played out one too many times.

so you smiled, “with all due respect, mr. bang, how long is ‘until everything calms down’?”

the man’s shoulder line jolted as he shrugged, lower lip jutted out in a nonchalant nature, “that depends on how you choose to solve it, ___... i assume you are working on a solution, yes?”

it was a trick question. if you answered the affirmative, it’d be admitting what mrs. kim and almost everyone have been demanding - a divorce. if you answered no, then you’re as good as jobless.

“my husband and i are working on it,” was all you say.

when taehyung found out later that night - he was livid. he was a phone call away from calling up mr. ji to sue the airline for discrimination. it took you stealing his phone away and running around the penthouse until you made him promise that he’d listen to you first.

he did, and you’d wanted to wait it out and see because, “there isn’t any damage to build our ground on anyway because i’m not fired yet.”

“well, dinner’s ready ” taehyung’s soft as silk voice tears you apart from your memroies, hand levitating midair until you take it, hoisting yourself up.

taehyung pushes himself off the couch, walking on the other side with your hand in his. it’s comical but endearing all at once and you giggle at how neither of you are willing to let the other go even though you’ll have to once you reach the four-people dining table.

“thank you,” you say as you lower yourself on the seat while he pushes the chair in for you.

home cooked meals have become a norm for the both of you ever since that day taehyung punched jungkook in the face. at first, you insisted that you should be the one cooking since he was injured but he stayed with you in the kitchen and you talked about your day and reminisced about your childhood and how you similarly had nannies that forbade you from coming into the kitchen.

then there was the peck on the top of your forehead he started doing a few days ago after you were sat and before he went around the table to get to his seat that’s across from you.

“did you go shopping today?” he asks in between cutting up the steak which he stole a whole plate from you into mini slices.

“yeah, with hwasa,” you nod - the woman had been all too delighted to see you after mismatched schedules and ghostly texts because of life and work getting in the way.

“the friend from high school?” taehyung surprises you yet again as he places your plate back in front of you, this time with the pieces all cut into edible bites. you’ve never mentioned hwasa to him - but it’s not a lie that she’s your closest friend from high school who got accepted into the same training programme as you at the beginning of your career.

“thank you-” you shoot him a smile before picking up the fork and knife, “and yeah, that’s her. we haven’t seen each other for months so we kind of went a little crazy with the dresses.”

he doesn’t look up when he speaks his next words which is why you have a trouble digesting them as you involuntarily blurt out a, “sorry- what?”

“the dresses you bought,” he reiterates, an amused smile on his lips - possibly because of your almost-choked state, “- can i see them?”

“oh,” clear your throat once, sipping down the red wine before chuckling nervously, “hwasa bought dresses - didn’t.”

taehyung hums, head tilting to the side as though trying to capture your avoidant gaze, “then put on whatever you bought that i saw lying on your bed - the door was open when i passed your room.”

at that moment, to say your heart quite literally crash against the floor, would be an understatement. it takes you a minute to gather yourself, another to force out a laugh as you attempt to brush the thought of taehyung seeing the black and red laces from savage x fenty hwasa adamantly insited you get after a story time on why you decided to get married to how something has definitely shifted between you and taehyung.

but no amount of gushing and squealing about made up scenarios brewing from hwasa’s little head could prepare you for what’s happening right at this moment.

“oh those?” a chuckle, “those are aren’t even worth showing.”

and just as you thought he’ll let the matter go like he would when you dismissively mention something that he inquired about, taehyung takes a full 180, eyes clouded with a sort of emotion you don’t dare delve into, “that’s for me to decide,” he takes a sip of the wine, pushing his chair back as he stands up, “i’m done,” with that, he places his plate down where geom, your mixed breen papillion and silky terrier shouts out an appreciative woof at the pleasant surprise.

patting the canine briefly, he turns to you, those clouded eyes seeping into your soul, “put them on - i’ll be waiting in my room.”

his footsteps echo against the walls as he ascends the stairs and disappears into the hallway where his room lies across from yours. it is a whole solid minute later, once you hear the door of his room click shut, that you make a beeline for the couch where your phone lies lonely.

dialing up the only person you know you can hold accountable for, you quite literally scream at the ‘hell-’ with a “hwasa, he wants me to put the lingerie on and show him!”

while your voice drips with dread, the other woman, choosing to be willfully oblivious, screams into your ears, “oh my god - oh my god. then what are you doing calling me?! go put them on!”

and that’s how you end up holding in a breath while deliberately repeating hwasa’s not so helpful pep talk of ‘you’re the hottest’ and ‘kim taehyung will be wrapped around your fingers by the end of the night!’

“but it’s been over a year - i’m not sure if i even know how to moan!” you’d protested while pull the strap of the garter around your thigh.

that was half an hour ago.

now, you’re debating on whether to knock like you would have before you started cuddling into the other while watching tv. but before that, you’d never did anything together unless it was family dinners and gatherings.

so you opt for pushing down the handle. the sharp ‘click’ being the only announcement of your entrance. taehyung’s walls are a deep shade of maroon almost black with the lights on its lowest setting. the sound of music playing in the background barely registers in your mind as you focus your attention to the figure that’s pushing himself up from his laying down position.

you resist the temptation to run and hide under the comfort your covers - an opposed response compared to your confident stride, placing one foot after the other until you stand a good two feet away from the bed and taehyung.

“what do you think?” the smile brandished over your face is nothing like your racing heart whlist you do a little twirl- but then again, you’ve always been such an actress.

“if the world were made of diamonds, i’d choose the rose before me... because you’re the most beautiful thing i’ve ever laid eyes on,” you wonder how he doesn’t even blink as those words pour out of his mouth, hand finding its way in the dip of your waist. staring. admiring.

“always the charmer,” you want to curse yourself for the unoriginal come back yet taehyung doesn’t seem to notice as he lets you push him to the bed whilst his eyes undress what little piece of clothing you have on as you crawl on top of him.

your toes curl at the sound of taehyung’s excruciatingly slow exhalation - almost as though he intends for it to caress your ears and seep into your pores before settling into the pit of your core.

the sharp charm of dior fills your senses as you place kisses on his neck, tucking his flesh between your teeth ever so gently, not expecting the delectable surprise that slips out of his mouth.

who would have thought kim taehyung was a moaner?

the giggle that trickles out of your mouth is blamelessly involuntary but catches his attention nonetheless, “what?”

“oh, nothing,” you nibble on his earlobe before whispering into his ears, “just thinking of how cute you’ll look moaning for me.”

and you’ve easily add to the long list of things you won’t forgive yourself in the morning. yet you still caress his growing size through his pants, giggling when the delicious sound hits the air for the second time.

“take it out,” he whimpers after one too many teases, “please.”

“only because you said please,” the way his chin tilts to follow your lips after you pecked them doesn’t go unnoticed by you but you clasp your hand against his chest, pinning him down with a shake of your head “uh-uh, you get up when i tell you to.”

the excruciating ‘fuck’ that leaves his lips is what truly lights up the flame in the pit of your stomach. you watch as his hand goes up to run through his hair in a sexually frustrated nature but doesn’t attempt to push himself up after that.

it only takes a few pumps for the clear fluid of precum to trickle over your hand, letting you smear all over his hardened dick and causing it to glisten underneath the luminescence of the room.

sparks shoot through your core and strike your heart into an erratic rhythm when you lower yourself over him, holding the slit of the black lace undergarment apart until he’s hitting every delicious inch inside of you.

you’ve barely even started to move when you break out into a cry, falling into his arms like a puppet whose strings got cut off. the arms around you are gentle as they hold you against him until you’ve come down from your high.

by the time you push yourself up, your knees are still trembling yet you nod when he cups your cheeks and forces you to look into those concern filled eyes, “are you good?”

“i’m fine,” the sniffle is probably the last thing you need to convince him, “i lost myself for a moment.”

this time, it’s his turn to chuckle, lips curling into a smirk, “it’s completely understandable to admit that you couldn’t hold out for more than a minute because i stretched you out so good.”

you want to protest - want to gain back the control you lost when he hit that sweet spot not even, yes, as he says, a minute into taking him in. but one single thrust right against that same exact spot and you’re whimpering in utter submission and devotion.

“that’s what i thought,” that damned smirk is the last thing you see before you succumb to his every wishes and command until you find yourself with a strong arm banded over your stomach, another arm reaching for a pillow and puffing it up before you feel yourself being gently lowered face flushed into it - the smallest gesture of tenderness that you didn’t expect to witness when you decided to tease him in the beginning.

the yelp when taehyung’s hands slip under the strap of the garter, doesn’t even manage to form fully when a moan replaces it as he yanks the garter and consequently, your ass against him, forcing you to swallow his entire length in one stroke.

“god, you’re so big,” if you were a little sober and a whole lot more conscious, you would have added that into the list of things you said that you would cringe at in the morning.

but you’re already one orgasm down in the foreseeable long list of orgasms that kim taehyung promises you as he sinks into you, moaning out your name like a holy mantra.

“i know you love it,” he agrees oh so innocently for someone who’s about to thrust into you like a godless being.

five strokes in and you’re cursing and screaming out in pleasure, hands gripping onto the duvet for dear life as you feel you convulse into a state of toe-curling euphoria. the way taehyung stops moving and trails down butterfly kisses down your back until the tensed muscles in your lower abdomen simmers down into pleasured twitches, doesn’t go by you.

“you can move now,” another sniffle, but this one has completely and irrevocably succumbed to your rawest desires.

it’s the soft chuckle and the one last peck on your left shoulder blade that has your heart stuttering. ungodly opposite to the way he moves his hips as he thrusts into you without so much as a warning - your last two orgasms were just preambles. ones out of the many that night that has you writhing and moaning in pleasure. some of which were incited by sides of you, you didn’t know existed.

the last thing you recall is taehyung gathering you in his arms like he couldn’t bear to be apart from you even in his sleep now that he’s had a taste. it’s endearing and daunting all at once. because for the first time since your marriage, you’re afraid of losing him.

a few days after that, you’re tying away on your macbook when taehyung comes home looking less like the man you knew. his hair, disheveled from having run his hand through them more than his hair gel allows. his eyes, carrying a sort of weight that latches onto him like parasites - or maybe that’s just the papparazzo that you noticed have been following you around. their numbers have decreased considerably after the rumor of taehyung hiring a team of lawyers which was no rumor at all.

it was the morning after you woke up with tingly legs barely able to function like it should and muscles sore but a sort of fullness in your chest when you noticed the man whose arms are wraped around you like a protective cocoon as he faintly snored away.

then came the muted sound of your phone from the other side of the hallway where your room door beckons you into its domain. it wasn’t as obnoxiously loud since it was at least twenty feet away and you would have ignored it and gone back to bed if not for the short interval signaling the person calling had finally reached the mailbox or hung up on their own. that was, before they hit call for the second time.

slipping out of taehyung’s arms, you trudged to your room with half a mind to give whoever this caller is a piece of your mind - god’s sake, the flashy red digits on your alarm clock stares at you at 5:23 in the morning.

“this better be good, hwasa or i swear-” before you can even finish the woman is already screaming into your ear like she’s being chased by an axe murderer.

“oh my god, oh my god - have you seen the news?!” except no woman chased by a murderer would sound this exhilarated, she went on before you could even get a “no one in their right mind would be checking the news at ass crack-” out.

“oh shoot, it’s still 5 something in korea, isn’t it?” she gasped - if you weren’t on paid leave, you’d be in hong kong, probably sharing rooms and getting tipsy in some club there, “but anyway, kadore’s chairman is suing insight, pullbbang and other websites for slander!” she shrieked.

"what?” you could feel the muscles on your face pulling into a contorted confusion but

after hanging up and telling hwasa you were going to look into the matter some more, you’d come up with multiple articles stating a similar fact as your overly enthusiastic best friend did. still in denial, you’d confronted your husband about it- he was still sleeping soundly when you strutted in and shook him up to which he confessed, eyes droopy and face puffy. the sight was so foreign to you because you were used to seeing him fresh and suited up but you’d found yourself making a little space in your heart for barely-just-woken-up-taehyung to reside in.

first came anger - you didn’t ask for him to do this, “what would everyone think if i went to you crying about a little bit of criticism for something i did do?” then came confusion because what exactly did you do that was so horrendously heineous to warrant these websites to write such malicious statements about you?

taehyung had seen every flash of emotions that pooled in your eyes and tugged on your fingers - you weren’t sure if he’d meant it but it successfully pulled you from drowning in your own thoughts, “i told you i’d make things right - these people won’t be able to say another word about you unless it’s the truth- that you’re a hardworking, amazing woman who deserves everything she has and yes,” he fixed you the most tender, sleepy smile “that includes the money i make - what’s the point of working if i can’t even provide my wife with the best?”

taehyung tosses the beige tuxedo onto the handrest of the couch adjacent to where you’re sitting with one leg up in nothing but a loose fitted sweater that hangs off your left shoulder. the half empty wine glass lies untouched on the coffee table since you’d put it down.

with a thump, he sinks himself into the leather material of the couch, hands cupping his face, as though if he rubs it hard enough, the deadset frown would go away.

before you know it, you’re padding over to the couch he’s on, hands finding their ways onto his shoulders, massaging the noticeable tension in his muscles until a grateful sigh slips out of his mouth, hand guiding your own to his lips where he presses a kiss on your knuckles.

only when you go around to take the spot next to him, hand smoothing out his hair, do you finally say, “is it the board again?”

mina has been keeping you updated on the turbulence that was caused by your fraudulent marriage being exposed. the chairman seat became taehyung by default when he got married as per his father’s will. but the board members have been vocal about abrogating his rights to succeeding kadore.

“there’s talk about votes demoting me to director,” he’s never sound so fragile - in taehyung’s long list of fluctuating interest from women and men to art and sculptures and to yatches and sports cars, kadore is probably the only thing he’s ever taken seriously.

you would know - seeing him decked in armani with soft wavy hair contrasting his strong features, weren’t your only reason for accepting his proposal of marriage. it had more to do with the way he spoke about the company. in a dimly lit room just like now, with a wine glass in his hand and the cityscape underneath that gave an illusion of stilled fireflies scattered all across the city, taehyung had spoken of his unforgivable regrets. the deals he’d let pass by. the merges he’d settled with instead of aiming higher. the brands he didn’t reach out to.

those regrets birthed fears and those fears were what made him even entertain the notion of a beneficial marriage.

or as the board likes to call it, an atrociously wickedly schemed marriage.

“they won’t have a ground to depose you to a director’s position if they can’t provide a solid reason,” you say and he blinks, clueless, hopeless.

it’s almost as if you’re facing a whole different man.

“what do you mean?”

“i’m talking about us doing what we do best,” you fix him a smile - one that probably needs a little convincing and grounding but a smile nonetheless, “we show them that the kims aren’t to be messed with,” you pause, letting the silence settle into brimming suspense before finally saying, “it’s been awhile since we’ve made a public appearance together, hasn’t it? how does lunch sound like?”

and so goes your multiple appearances in the most top notch restaurant together. the lack of chauffeur wasn’t intentional but helpful nonetheless to prove that the chairman was hopeless and irrevocably mad for his wife that he’d drive all the way to wherever she was to pick her up and then drive them to the designated restaurant instead of the convenience of meeting at said restaurant from wherever you both were prior to that.

then there was the hand holding, hip grabbing and not going a minute without smiling and giggling about what the other said. to outsiders, it would have looked as if things hadn’t been all that different - except you’d finally came out of your 1 billion doller cave after the whole ‘fiasco’ with your families. but it was the little hand kisses and forehead pecks in between taehyung making mini runs to get to your side to open your car door.

and the ‘how was your day’s and which are followed by a ‘you’re still deadset on working, huh?’s each time you told him about your in-the-work resume since you’re ‘at the risk of getting a notice of resignation any time soon’.

“what if you started your own business? i could buy a whole building in nonhyeon-dong that you could make as your headquarters?” he offers in between twirling the pasta around his fork after you insisted that- “my job is the only thing that i’ve got going on for me to prove that i’m not a gold-digger that everyone thinks i am.”

“i was thinking more like travelling from place to place like...” you shoot him a ‘you know’ smile before adding, “a cabin crew.”

“one of korean air’s biggest shareholders are letting go of her stock because her color pencil business isn’t doing so well these days,” he nods, deeply contemplative, “they’re gonna be sacking a few employees if they don’t get buyers by the next two months,” he surmises with a concluding nod to which you end up laughing and almost choking on your food.

picking up the water on your right, you quickly gulp it down before clarifying as to why you found his statement so funny that you’d risk your esophagus in the process, “no, tae,” that nickname is also one of the little things that just happens - you don’t miss the tuck in the corners of his lips when it slips off your tongue, “it’s sweet of you to want to buy me a share of the airline i’m working for but that’s the thing, it’s your money,” you reach out for his hand, smiling when he meets yours halfway.

a warm pressure engulfs your hand as he squeezes briefly, “and i told you, what’s mine is yours.”

“likewise,” you fix him a grateful smile, “but i like flying. i like being a cabin crew - on top of holding onto my job to prove people wrong, of course.”

the longest pause hovers over you like a grey clouds with taehyung’s beautiful but contemplating eyes holding you captive. as though trying to take you out part by part, trying to figure you out.

“then, what would you like me to do?” the question catches you off guard, like being hit by a wild baseball even though you’re walking right next to a baseball field, “you’ve always been so good at taking care of yourself - when you broke down in front of me... at the hospital... i didn’t know what to do-” his lips quiver just the slightest bit, almost as though holding back invisible tears, “tell me what to do. because it feels like everything i do isn’t the slightest bit helpful. ”

all of a sudden, the sands of time seem to have stopped, levitating midair within the dip of the hourglass. it’s daunting but heartbreaking at the same time - the sight of raw fear and uncertainty that’s pooling within taehyung’d eyes like unmoving river - you never knew your attempts to hold up your values reflects as a declaration of nonessential to taehyung’s own attempts to reach out to you.

“i don’t need you - to fight my battles, to solve my problems for me - though i’m immensely grateful that you did,” you say after what feels like an eternity, “but i want you so... stay as you are, supporting me like you’re doing now.”

“i don’t know if that counts as support - i’m not doing anything,” he counters, eyes downcasted until you reach out your other hand to cover his that’s already holding your left hand.

“you are - you never invalidated my feelings of wanting to work, you encouraged me to do bigger things and that means you believe in me - maybe i will take up that offer in the future but right now, i want to keep doing what i always have been,” you fix him a smile, “and i want to do it with you by my side.”

the tiniest of smile that slips onto his face tells you that his heart is still in a state of unrest. unconvinced. but he’s trying as he nods, “if that’s what you want,” and you thought that’s the end of it. until the foreshadowing “but,” that comes a second later, “i’m not gonna stop worrying and trying to fix things - we’re married, your problems are my problems too.”

the chuckle escapes your mouth signifies the good natured jest of your next words as you summon your hands back, already missing the warmth of his much larger ones around you, “well we weren’t exactly on that term until just recently.”

a shadow casts itself over taehyung’s handsome face as he picks up his fork, “that’s something i’ll regret for the rest of my life - not getting to know you beyond the contract sooner.”

“everyone makes mistakes,” you shrug before taking a peek at his expression as you mention a certain free spirited woman, “besides, you were too caught up with jeongyeon on our first year of marriage.”

she had been one of the few people who’d managed to bring out a side of taehyung you never knew existed.

boyish. bratty. someone who actually bicker and whines about the littlest things and everything that was on the opposite spectrum the crisp, suit-wearing, slicked back hair, charming man you married. sometimes, when you go out to dinners or the little moments when you find yourselves alone while attending functions, you see glimpses of that playful, boyish side of him. the human side of him.

over time, you realize that that’s also part of what makes taehyung... well, taehyung. it’s just only recently that you start seeing more than glimpses of these sides behind closed doors.

the way his eyes widen is enough for you to know that you’ve hit the nail right on its head. if the incomprehensible stuttering isn’t, “that... i was... we didn’t-”

“i know,” you fix him a jesting smile, “you may be a certified charmer for the most part but you’re not a homewrecker, tae.”

lunch goes on with you talking about how your father and brother are thrilled to have you and taehyung over for your monthly dinner. to which the man was partly confused and partly shivered in his seat at the thought of sitting down at a table with two of your favorite men in the world no doubt shooting him daggers while you’re not watching - or pretend that you don’t notice.

“i can’t avoid father forever,” he laments, finally giving into his fate as you walk out the restaurant, “and i have a lot of owning up to do to your family.”

“as do i,” you hum in agreement once before murmuring a ‘thank you’ as he holds the car door open after tipping the valet.

it’s only five minutes into the ride, once the car rolls to a stop at a red light does he turn to you, “you know, you don’t have to... with mom, reconciliation is a two way thing and she...” you notice the way his grip tightens around the wheel, eyes darkening as he breathes in, grounding himself “- she even made you file for divorce.”

the papers she’d given you that day still lied in your drawer, hidden away from taehyung’s pyromaniac hands. you’d caught him almost setting them on fire when you he found it lying on the counter after he’d returned home. all because spent a good chunk of the afternoon staring at it before leaving it to take a hot bath, not realizing taehyung would be home any time soon. ever since then, he hadn’t been on speaking terms with mrs. kim. turned down offers for dinners and luncheons, as he had directly told her in front of you through a phone call, “...not until you apologize to ___ first.”

“tae, mother was hurt by our lies and i understand why, i can’t promise i’ll be as accepting if i found out the daughter-in-law i cherished so much didn’t marry my son for love like i thought they did,” you lightly pat his hand that’s on the gear but instead he captures your fingers between his and guide them to his lips as he traps you within those beautiful eyes.

“you’re too kind for your own good, you know that?” there they are again, hazel underneath the light. but clouded with a sort of emotion you can’t pinpoint.

but before you can even muster a word, his eyes are already focused on the road as the car propels itself forward. but he doesn’t let go of your hand. he keeps it twined with his between yours and the gear. almost as if he didn’t want to be apart from you if he could help it. and neither could did you as you rub tiny motions into the back of his hand.

in your defense, you’ve stolen a precious gem from her that no money or gold could ever replace. and no matter how much you cherish the bond that formed after hours spent on shopping, tea times and mother-daughter (in-law) vacations, you’re not kind enough to unwrap him from your little fingers.

a smile curls on your lips as you guide taehyung’s hand to yours, placing a kiss on his knuckles and watching as his own lips tuck at the corners.

you’ll just have to make it up to mother some other way.

note. if you enjoy this then please leave a comment either below or in my inbox! and check out the other members’ installments to the series filed under ‘verse’ on top!

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