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redcherrykook · 19 days ago

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──𐙚 think i need someone older (s & f)

olderBoyfriend!Jungkook x inexperienced!reader

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content: some plot first, loss of virginity, age gap of 9 years (he´s 30), thigh humping, little dry humping too, cowgirl, he talks her through it, dom!jungkook, "sweet girl, baby, love", "gguk" lowkey insecure reader, praise, making out, breast play, clit play, creampie, unprotected, hickies on him, big c!ck Jungkook, small karaoke session, he´s whipped and wants to take care of her, short mention of alcohol (bc of that fucking bar he has omg), allusions to reader being short, she's very feminine

note from cherry: i tried to do justice to the people who wanted this, i hope you´re satisfied mwah! sooo sorry if it´s not giving lmao writing this was lowkey exhausting, also sorry for typos as always

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Jeon Jungkook is exactly like his preferred alcoholic beverage; whiskey. strong, rich, smooth, smells like oak and a hint of vanilla caramel. Much like your introduction to the drink, you met this man in a bar.

A real man- none of those barely twenty-year olds that paraded around in their sagged sweatpants and with a bright tap of unlimited unopened snapchats lighting up the dark corners of the bar. Jungkook is pure masculinity, a chest so full with security, so grounded in his abilities that it was practically impossible to ignore how his large, brown galaxy eyes focused on your face, zeroing in on your cupid´s bow while you licked the stinging remains of your moscow mule away- he paid for it, of course.

Once the enticing conversation that felt almost comically easy faded, you expected him to try and take you to his house- mansion, as he revealed in a sidetracked sentence. Although you were looking forward to seeing the small metal pearls below and over his eyebrow move as they crinkle in pleasure, the tight ropes of virginity had not yet been released in your 21 years of living. Shackles that keep you tied down- as promised out of your own, admittedly senseless morality, not to be opened by a stranger. The key to your cuffs belonged to a lover.

It was unforeseeable, nevertheless natural for him to droop his heavily tattooed arm around your waist while escorting you out of the establishment. The sleeve of his white button down folded up along his forearm for you to see the beauty of his skin, wondering just how many more of those carefully crafted works of art he´s hiding beneath the business casual attire.

Once engulfed in the harsh, bitter wind that itaewon possesses, his arm only drew you in closer, so near in fact, you were able to notice a small scar on his cheek, one you hadn´t been able to notice in the curse of a dimly lit place. The more your eyes adjusted to him, so grew your anger at the lighting inside your place of first meeting- it had done an injustice to the man you had already been disgustingly attracted to, stole the wholehearted, inescapable allure of such a mature presence.

The gentleman looks down into your awaiting eyes, only to ask if he may have your number, upon your agreement, he proceeded to tell you that he would be walking you home, wanting you to arrive safely since it must be dangerous for a woman to walk the streets of a party district at 2 am in the morning.

That encounter was four months ago, and only a month after that initial conversation, he had completely taken over you. Swallowed you whole in just how well he treated you.

Insistent of using his black card to buy you anything you remotely showed liking in, dedicated to communication, random flowers that showed up at your office and a constant offer of a ride in his luxurious black mercedes-benz GT63s; no matter how long it took- even if it was a inconvenience, sometimes taking longer to get to you than it would have taken you to simply retort to public transport.

"I told you i´d make it for you, didn´t I baby? hm?" his velvet smooth voice rings, from how he´s standing, with his body pressed against your back, towering over you, you could feel the hardened muscles of his torso meeting you. His large, slim hands reach to either side of your waist, to the glass filled with ice that you´re holding in between your own, gently removing them to resume the task that you were occupied with. Your eyes glance to the bulging of his bicep, that loose, casual tshirt did nothing to hide just how big he had gotten due to his newfound hobby.

you whine- almost, biting down on your lower lip to prevent just that from happening, "thank you gguk" you say, turning to peck the very muscle that´s invading your line of sight. He hums, a low, satisfied sound from the back of his throat.

"c´mere baby" patting one of his muscular thighs, his eyes drift to your figure walking towards him, iced tea in hand, just like he had made it for you. Sweet, light, refreshing, much like your presence in his life. Almost like a sign from the stars that his hearts content was somewhere, bundled in the form of a shorter girl with eyes that could entrance any sailor- far less siren like, no, wide with love and purity. Just what he had yearned for in any women he had met before you-whether tangled in meaningless sheets or involved in a month long, semi serious relationship, Jungkook was yet to cross paths with the one woman that would make him turn so desperate, he would have begged for their happiness on his knees. It might be romantic, even a tad dramatic to admit that from the very first word that left your pink glossed lips, he knew better than anyone else that he was in deep, deep trouble. Upon seeing the curve of your waist, hearing that soft, lulling voice, that embarrassingly obvious fact only intensified after finding out just how delightful you truly were, it made him want to rip his hair out- do anything in the possibility of his grip to see even a glimpse of your smile, of that lighthearted, cheerful giggle you let out regularly. He was drawn in my your feminine nature, by the way you let yourself fall into his caring embrace.

He´s quickly directed back to reality as soon as your legs make it to either side of the thigh he had patted earlier, a familiar position for this equally familiar occasion. Muscle memory sets in for him, grabbing the large karaoke remote to hand to you while he turns the microphone on. "Can you sing something to me first?" the question sets his bunny smile off, nodding instantly "Sure love, chose a song for me" he says. Your mind floods with ideas, but you settle for a song you´ve heard him hum millions of times, mindlessly going about.

"Malibu nights?", jungkook questions excitedly while the instrumental sets in, he knew the answer, but his heart swelled with joy at the notice you took to this song. After all, he loved to sing. Another layer to him that has you melting, growing into the embodiment of love that is endlessly cherishing what little fractions were revealed to your eyes in each fleeting moment. His honey voice reaches beautiful highs and lows you can only compare to something angelically otherworldly in nature.

It made you want to know just how deep he could growl, how far his sounds can drop with the dirty nothings you would love to have whispered in your ear. You felt filthy for letting your mind wander to such extends when all he did was sing, lulling you into drunken harmony with him. Still, you consciously lean back into his body, letting him wrap his arms around your waist, encircling it with his vanilla oak scent.

During the past four months, you were doomed to have to shatter his hopes, reveal the truth that somehow felt shameful ; that you´re fully untouched. Nothing further than a bad makeout had yet graced your skin, it made you feel even smaller admitting something so vulnerable to a man that carries almost an entire decade of experience more. Much to your comfort, his hands found the curve of your cheeks immediately, telling you that there is nothing to be embarrassed about, he would hand you the full control, you set the pace.

Internally, Jungkook drooled at the idea that the woman of his dreams was to have her first, the most memorable, sexual encounter with him. Your body belonged to him, devoted to only remember the touch of his lips, the curve of his cock, how he would mold you to his shape without the intrusion of another man having tried the same. Not that he would have wanted you any less if that had not been the case, but for one time in your relationship, he was oh so selfish to want you all to himself, aroused that your first person induced orgasm was going to be his and his alone. The prophecy fulfilled when on one, alcohol induced night a week ago, two of his long, tattooed digits made their entrance into your tight hole, relentlessly filling you until your soft thighs shook, until after your third high, he licked his fingers clean and let you taste yourself on his tongue.

The tunes get lost in silence, he sets the microphone down, having felt the warmth of your mound beneath the tights while you tried to subtly gain friction, scooting back on him. His palms find your thighs, tightly flushed around his muscle. They´re shamelessly wandering up and down the thin material that prevents his hot, calloused fingers from feeling up your smooth skin.

"Wanna do that again, love?" jungkook mutters, his pillowed lips latch on to your exposed neck, right at the gentle curve that paints the beginning of your shoulder, soft, faint kisses that leave a trail of barely sounding sighs behind.

"Do what?" feigning innocence to avoid internal humiliation, you ask him, knowing he wouldn´t let it go, not until you told him to. The sound of his husky chuckle sounds right on the sweetspot of your neck, he sucks a little harder, encouraging you with the constant rub to your thighs. Instinctively, the heat inside your panties grows as do the intensity of your desperate moans, your hips push back on his thigh, seeking the solidity that grants you the portion of satisfaction your needy button longed for

"that" he simply says, having found an anchor in your hips now, your plaid skirt bunches around his hands, slowly- tortuously so when met with the deliberate little humps he helps you to complete on him. You practically whimper once his tongue glides across your skin, dragging from your shoulder, up your neck, intertwined with his open mouth, loud kisses that don´t seem to stop.

"that´s it... do you even know how cute you sound?" he smiles, and you feel it, you feel the smile rise to his lips with every additional kiss, every noise you grant the hungry male. "gguk, wanna see you" you whine- the high pitched noise has him twitching in his training joggers, semi errect but about to stand stiff, just as noticeably as that night seven days ago, having formed a huge tent inside his slacks, there was no hiding his attraction, no use to conceal his utter need for you.. nor his size, not that he would be capable to anyways.

To your request, he helps you turn around, now facing that dim glow on your slightly embarrassed features, taking note of how you nibble on your lip with every grind forward, "that feel good sweet girl?" he asks, ghosting his lips over yours faintly, just enough to see how much you need it, "mhm.. really good" you mumble back, chasing after his lips that he can't deny you of any longer, the kiss is gentle, but nourishes your heat further

"wanna feel even better?" the pit in your lower abdomen grows at the tone of his voice, something much stronger is seeping through his system, something that screams dominance, you nod- naturally wanting to get lost in it. Jungkook's hands stop assisting you, instead, they take to your shirt, "can i take this off of you baby?" he waits for that little hum of yours before swiftly tugging it away from your form

It's almost frightening how quickly your mind reverts back to wanting to run away and hide, your arms fly across your chest, everything you felt so good doing stops and he stops too,

"don't hide, you're perfect, you're so fucking sexy" his eyes trace your skin, hands wrapping around your wrists to pull your arms away, revealing your chest hugged into your bra, and jungkook almost forgets how to breathe properly,

he groans- groans that delicious deep noise that makes your head spin, even more so when you feel his appreciation for your body, hands pulling you closer by the waist so can bury his head into your cleavage. "so beautiful" he mutters, darting his tongue out to lick the slit between your tits, "wanna touch all over you, make you feel so good" he says, finding the clasp on your back to open it with one hand. a silent reminder of his experience, one you did not have in the slightest but somehow, it felt even better that way

"mh.. feels good gguk" you can't help but moan at the forgein sensation, his lips wrap around your hardend nipple, groaning sweetly while he sucks on it, carefully swiping his tongue over the little nub- your other breast is securely fitted into his palm, thumb playing with it just like he does with his mouth, mirroring every little flick

"feels so good doesn't it? you smell so good baby" his lips move to do the same to your other breast, switching sides with a trail of saliva sticking to his lips,

In that moment you feel so sensitive, so lost in his secure hold and at the same time, so small in his skillful dominance that you simply relish in the feeling, grinding your soaked core into his thigh over and over, long, hasty drags over his muscle while his lips work magic on your skin, squeezing a little tighter, sucking a little harder because every stuttered whimper fuels his urge to take care of you

"that's it baby.. keep going, you're so good" your hands find his dark chocolate locs, threading through it with the need to ground yourself. it feels as though every time your clit meets him, instead of getting you closer to sensational relief it adds to the ache, feeds into your desire to take and take more of him, be consumed by his strength

"want this off please" your excited fingers fiddle with the hem of his oversized shirt, earning a smug grin from your boyfriend as he detaches from you, discarding of his top

Although you have seen him shirtless before, it's impossible not to salivate at the sight, at his toned broad torso that curves into a unfairly small waist, large arms flexing when he reaches for your tits again, massaging them once more,

"like what you see pretty?" he says, teasingly cocking his head and biting at the metal ring on the corner of his lip, you blush- the slick drools out even more between your thighs, "so hot gguk, annoyingly hot" he chuckles, joining the sound with your airy giggle, but he sucks in a breath as soon as you shift in his lap, now fully straddling him, naked chest pressed to his with your head burried in his neck, "hmm.. what are you up to baby?" his hands find your back, soothing himself not to pounce on you because the strain in his pants is staggering his breath, your errect nipples are rubbing against his skin and it´s making him shiver, desperate, oh so desperate for you

but he knows all to well not to overwhealm your sweet, virgin body, to let you take all the time you need until he can feel every breath of your submission

"wanna feel you gguk, can i?" jungkook almost purrs at how innocently you ask, suppressing the need to grind his hips into your heat from below, "of course baby, anything you want. it's all yours"

he meant it, every vein cursing through his body belongs to you, working, pumping blood through him for the sole purpose of loving you, taking care of you. "all mine?" you hum, aroused by the confidence he emitts, your hands trace up his torso, creating a small distance between your bodies to feel up the hard lines on his abdomen with laboured breath of your own, lips finding every small patch of his neck that make him hum, make his sighs of pleasure slowly turn into groans "all yours my love" the answer wasn't necessary, not when you already started to leave traces of you on his skin, faint, red bruises on his neck that he's impatiently waiting to run around with

"you feel so fucking good, need to feel more of you, will you let me sweet girl?" his words are intoxicating, washing away any doubt or fear and replacing it with a intense craving of sexual desire "please gguk i'm so wet for you" the sound reaches his ears and shuts down his entire system, his hands carelessly rip down your skirt and stockings, leaving you in those tiny grey boyshorts that he looses his mind over "baby how did you hide all this from me?" his hands caress your thighs, your hips, up your waist and to the soft flesh of your stomach with hungry, insatiable eyes that long for a taste of your every inch

"all yours" you mimic him, sounding just like him with your sultry, shy voice, already wanting to remove his own bottoms which he catches on, ridding himself of the nuisance "yeah, all mine. this is all mine" he says, smiling softly

Your drenched underwear meets his errection as he pulls you back on his lap, hands sitting on your waist, you look so vulnerable- almost fragile in his grip, shyly moaning because the curve of his cock presses into your skin like it was molded for you, needy folds clinging to your underwear and your clit throbs- throbs begging for another taste of friction

"I don't know how to do any of this" he suddenly he hears you mumble, seeing how you're playing with your fingers that sit on his lower abdomen, your head is turned to them, a slight pout decorates your features

jungkook feels the need to sob- to take away whatever is making that pretty head of yours feel so threatened even though you're the best thing he has ever felt, the only person he ever wants to lay his hands on ever again

"that's okay baby, hey, look at me for a second will you?" you comply, craving his lead, his security to catch you, most of all that gentle, masculine dominance that floods your senses effortlessly

"you're doing so so well pretty, you don't have to worry okay? i'll take you through it, make you feel so good" he says, cupping your cheeks in his palms while sitting up a little to press kisses to your nose, your forhead, your lips and cheeks,

unable to contain your smile, you nod, gaining back the heartbeat in your willing feminity to let him take care of you, "thank you baby" you say with upmost honesty, pressing your lips to his in a kiss of adoration

"mhm.. come on, let's get this off of you love" his whipers lingers on you, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your underwear before pulling it off your lifted legs, he moans at the sight of your bare cunt, slick attached to the cloth and glistening over your feminity

"so beautiful, do you even realize how lucky i am? how thankful i am that this sweet, sweet girl is all mine to love?" he says softly, so softly that your eyes gloss a little bit, feeling so utterly vulnerable in front of him, so sexy in the most feminine way possible. blush creeps up your cheeks, his hands find your inner thigh, dancing around the sensitive skin "you're too sweet gguk"

he returns your smiles, lifting your hand to kiss it before intertwining it with his own, lacing his fingers into you because being apart from your body feels like torture in this moment. but you're eyes are busied elsewhere, locked on the large outline that stands rock solid insides of his calvins, a small, wet patch that indicates his arousal decorating the very top

"go ahead baby, take it off" not needing to be told twice, you help yourself to his boxers, tugging them down in one, slow motion that leaves him biting his bottom lip, he pushes them down to his ankles, kicking them off

both of you sit like this for a moment that feels like eternity, raw, bare and without a chance to hide in front of the other's desperate gaze, comfort, pure love that's inseparable with a pulsing you can no longer ignore, not when he´s so big, so broad and decorated with a vein alongside his curved shaft

he grabs at the flesh of your ass, pulling you to sit your gushing cunt over his stiff length, cursing at feeling how soft you are, how much arousal truly spills from your body

"you're so.. big gguk.. m'scared" your whine makes him coo, stroking your head while a possessive grip that stays on your hip, his left hand tethering to your hair in the meantime, "don't be, you were made for me sweet girl, made for it" your head falls to his shoulder, arching your torso into his body with a small hump to his leaking cock, "that's right baby, feel it, feel how hard i am for you" spurred on by his encouragement, you tighten your hands on his bicep, rolling your hips over his, his entire shaft is coated in your essence, angry pink tip meeting your swollen clit repeatedly, so much so you feel your thighs shake, feel an impending orgasm waiting to flow over your body,

Ripping yourself of that sensation, not yet- you tell yourself

"want it gguk, want it so bad" jungkook hums, kissing your neck messily, cock throbbing beneath you, "want what pretty? talk to me" he says, his own desire to claim you all to himself becomes unbareable with each passing second that you stay put

You shift forward again, whining, "please gguk" he groans, twitching at how desperate you sound, entranced with how needy you've become for him, he didn't even have to make you beg for it, you just did

effortlessly perfect for him, "come on, tell me my love" but he has to hear more, he needs to hear the dirty confession falling from your pure lips

"want your cock jungkook, please" there it is- that submissive, whiny plead for him, it makes him feel alive, throwing his head back on the black leather couch momentarily "good girl, fuck baby you're so cute" he praises, taking the base of his cock into his hand but something stalls him, "do you want me to eat you out first? make it nice and slippery?" his teeth graze your ear, kissing over the shell of it, "no gguk i want it, want it now"- another nibble, "anything for you"

Your hips lift, hovering your tight, clenching hole over his thick manhood, hands sweaty and grasping at his firm shoulders, he spots your anxiety, wishing nothing more but to ease it

"sit down on it baby, it's gonna sting okay? but you're so good, I know you can take it" more, more reassuring words that you drink in, just as you sink down on it, wincing as your brows meet in frustration

"hurts.." you mutter, fingers digging into his tanned skin- you can't bring yourself to move down further, clenching your muscle tightly around only his fat tip that feels like it's splitting your drooling pussy open. his hands find your back again, "ssh baby.. i know... but you'e such a good girl, i know you can take every inch of my cock"

It takes a couple more kisses to your shoulder for you to sink down fully on his length, painfully so- having your hands claw into him, your lips trembling in confusion of why it feels so good to have him stuffed into you so deeply you can feel it inside your tummy, stretching into every crevice of your gummy walls. It's unlike anything you've ever felt before, fulfilling, deep pressure that you could get lost in- bathe in

Jungkooks feelings have synchronized with yours- he's unsure where you end or where he begins but you're clamped down on his cock, your skin already wet with sweat as it sticks to his unforgivingly, moans and shaky breaths fill in the silence, a unspoken question lingers, awaits for you to answer it

until you do, taking his large hands to your hips before pressing yours against his full pecks, a glint of confidence spites your eyes that makes jungkook want to hear you cry out his name over and over again

"oh fuck- baby you-" you whine, rolling your hips forward, mouth parted when you feel him move inside of you, slolwy, deeply "that's it my love, take your time, so sexy like this" his voice is far from stable, you moan again- the grinding becomes faster, assisted by his hands that pull you onto him just the way you like it- just like he said, you have it all, its all yours

"what- what if you can't come?" he needs to contain a laugh at that- the question is so absurd to him, so unimaginable that it makes him slightly angry why you couldn't understand that he could cum from seeing you alone, from one kiss to your chaste lips- he's already twitching at how sloppy, how loud your cunt is around him

"I almost came from seeing how needy that little pussy of yours is, you feel how hard i am don't you? all because of you baby" he mutters in response, you flourish at it, getting familiar with the grinding motion but you need more, you deserve more- so you start bouncing on him- up and down, slamming your own, curved hips down onto him. he's mesmerized by your pleasure, watching how your brows are knitted, how your lips leak with drool and airy moans, how your tits bounce- he gropes at them, cupping them greedily, his hands itch for your skin, for you to let yourself go on him

"good girl.. look at you, a natural at riding my cock- don't even need my help" you shake, exhaustion already growing in your eager hips but you cannot stop, you don´t want to stop taking every inch of his cock back into you, lifting your hips only to take him back in, "you're filling me so much" you moan into his mouth, having formed a unity with his lips that welcome you like home, "just like that pretty, little humps for me" he mumbles back, interlacing his tongue with yours

he tugs at your nipples with his inked fingers, reciprocrating the moaning, he mirrors you, throbs when you clench, explores your mouth when you part for him impatiently. it leaves you to no choice but to become his own reflection, your hips ground themselves in a stable rhythm as your fingertips roll over his own nipples, unexpectedly he whimpers, bites down into your shoulder cautiously

"That's it baby, driving me fucking crazy" he grinds his hips up into you, unlocking a feeling of bliss that leads you to errupt into pornographic moans, your hand flings to muffle them, eyes rolling back into your skull,

Jungkook is making love to you, letting you reach a state you would not have been able to imagine, not even in the slightest when all you have ever felt are your fingers hastily, uncoordinated on your bundle of nerves. still, he can feel you´re holding back, afraid to be loud- to take up space, but he's having none of it

"Dont be embarrassed sweet girl, you sound addicting, so cute, give me every little noise" sinful sensuality floods you with his encouragement, "gonna make you cum for me, deserve it don't you think?" you don't- in fact, you can't think, long gone into pleasure while his hips piston into you from below,

he slaps your clit gently, your walls clench from how good that feels, "i asked you something baby" he repeats, distracted by your droopy eyes that threaten to shut him out at any moment, "answer me sweet thing, do you deserve to cum hm?" he taunts, rutting his hips with a slower but harder motion, force that hits your g-spot- reels you back into the moment, you head moves frantically "yes, yes please i need to cum"

Jungkook groans in satisfaction, "that's right.. best little cunt, all mine" he goes back lapping at your chest, licking his way to any patch of skin that your addictive smell lurs him to- he feels all over your skin, sneaking his fingers to where your bodies morph into one so he can draw tight circles on your clit, stimulating you to cry out his name,

"Jungkook.. i- i can't stop it i-" you stutter, thighs tensing around him, the feeling is so overwhealming that you can't keep your head up, can't warn him more than that since you're already letting your dew sprinkle out- letting the shocks roll over your body

"just like that.. make a mess on my cock baby, you did so well, come for me" he rasps, his heavy balls release into your tightness at the thought that crosses his mind- the knowledge that he had made you orgasm, that your virginity belonged to him solely,

It embraces the both of you, fills you with a sense of euphoria that none of you wish to end

As the high washes over you, you break out into a small shudder, aware of his milky cum that splurts your walls white, aware of the oversensitive area between your legs that jungkook's fingers slowly stop touching, landing to your unstable and sore thighs instead.

his heavy breathing is woven into yours, contrasting how slowly, lazily he manages to caress your naked skin, finding comfort in your warm body

the small whisper of his name catches him off guard, he hums, pulling back to cup your face, "are you okay my love? feel good?" his eyes rank over your tired features, glowing before his very own eyes,

"so okay. I love you" you breathe out, pressing a kiss to his button nose,

"I love you too baby, so proud of you" his nose nuzzles against yours, "you were so so good"

your shy giggle lights up his face like it always does, "thank you.. for taking my virginity... felt so good" you mumble with your bottom lip tucked away between your teeth- it awakens his soft- still nestled cock, his hands grip your ass- feeling the flesh spill beneath his fingers "thank you for your trust baby, but god, you're gonna make me lose it" jungkook says into your neck, nose tracing the delicate line of your shoulder,

"why? is it too much?" unbeknownst to you, Jungkook rolls his eyes in annoyance, how could you be so fucking adorable?

"Let me show you why" he answers, making your head perk up a little,

"Wanna lay down for me pretty? I can give you another one, as many as you want. You deserve it, wanna spoil you, fuck i wanna give you everything you want" faintly audible as he's speaking into your skin, having already laid you down onto the cold cushions of his unreasonably expensive leather couch.

#redcherrykook #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #jungkook smut

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kithtaehyung · 5 months ago

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minted (explicit) | myg

title: minted (explicit) pairing: street king!yoongi x street cart vendor!reader rating/genre: explicit (18+) ; angst , suspense , smut ; haegeum au , gang au summary: all you do is wake up, sell your fruit on the dusty streets below your flat, and go to sleep. but everything changes when a customer you always look forward to seeing turns out to be dangerous. really, really dangerous. note: again, this wasn't on the docket for 2024 until i saw one (1) mint yoongi edit on my pinterest feed💀 anyways, this is dedicated to hali @sailoryooons for ur belated bday, nary @joonary for being a cutie pie and letting me adopt the tangerine cart girl idea in general, and luce @minttangerines for ur url and for being a wonderful friend. love you all! warnings: this series may not be for everyone, language, violence, weapons (guns/knives/chopsticks/etc.), blood/wounds mentions, drugs, alcohol, murder, gang activity, poor reader is just trying to get through the day, mint!yoongi, haegeum!yoongi, tatted!yoongi, his eyebrow is pierced, tension, slow burn, choking, reader suffers from “my cabbages” levels of disaster, slight e2l, fight sequences, multiple future explicit scenes, yoongi deserves his own warning, chains but who is ever ever shocked, graphic depictions of violence drop date: august 5th, 2024, 9:03pm est word count: 9.4k aiyaaa✌ mood playlist: here

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Ever since you could remember, gang activity in your town has run unchecked.

Anything goes. Rough fights out of nowhere, car chases busting streets, or even random delinquents snatching food on the run, dust kicking up onto stock they left behind.

And out of all the districts, yours is begrudgingly the second worst.

Why? You still aren’t completely sure. But you do know that the darkest is reserved for the underbelly that only slithers in rumors. A place in which you will never find yourself.

But you do wonder what must happen there to warrant the winning title because each day here is a battle to keep yourself afloat.

All you do is sell fruit. Why are you fighting for your life every week? Why can’t you exchange goods for money in peace? If you could compare it to the movies you grew up watching on an outdated television, it’s a grungy reflection of the wild west.

But through all the shit you’ve chosen to endure, at least one person is always kind enough to buy his wares and go.

And today is no different.

You still don’t know his name. But you yearn to. Because his hair is the color of magic and rebellion, and his tattoos really set off that bright mop of locks.

If those lethal, piercing eyes weren’t enough.

When he lifts three long digits, it takes all your strength to nod and get his purchase together. This is the part that never changes, either.

Just like always. One, three, or five fingers for tangerines. Never two, never four, and never any other fruits.

It’s charming, in a way. As if he’s more particular than most about what he wants—a trait elusive to many.

Like clockwork, you would hand his order over in thin plastic, and he would walk away to hitch a ride on a passing cart. Just like he does right now with a lazy gait, white tee billowing from his jeans.

Another day. Another exchange.

In the wavy heat of summer, you sigh. Wondering if anything is ever going to change, and if you would ever get to know more about your most frequent, most mysterious patron.

After a while, you do try talking to him.

Those looks of confusion slowly turn into little hums or grunts, then into single words that keep you going for days. Even though you rarely hear it, his voice is just as attractive as he is.

One day, you offer him a plantain, handing it over and telling him it’s on the house.

“Thanks,” he says amongst the clinks and conversations of the street, pocketing the food away.

When he does, you see a flash of black metal, and you already know what he’s carrying. You’re used to seeing all sorts of those around nowadays. In this district, you’d be shocked if he didn’t have an arsenal on his person while traveling through.

Besides. Even you have a couple collecting dust in your own flat, handed down by extended family but never used.

“If you ever need anything other than tangerines,” you start with a point to his pants, “Please buy those instead.”

He’s unmoving. Blinks are all you get so you have no choice but to explain,

“I’m so tired of eating them with everything.”

When he huffs in amusement, your heart flutters thrice. There’s no reason for a sheen of sweat and sticky mint locks to be so deadly.

“Then eat something else,” is all the stranger advises before walking off.

Well.

Even though you don’t have much of a choice, the guy does have a point. You wouldn’t be shocked in the slightest if his aim’s just as straightforward as his wit.

Once one exchange lasts longer than a sentence, the two of you start little conversations during his visits. Which prove more fatal than normal since he’d rest his tattoos on the top shelf of your cart.

From what you can make out, there are creatures stretching in beautiful teal and vivid orange, and even striking white on his other arm. They ripple so well with his veins, a canvas that sways and hypnotizes with every drum of his fingers.

You know what they symbolize, though it’s unique to have all of them together.

Taboo, even.

But you can’t hold back your admiration because of the sheer beauty. What would they feel like if you just…

“You always stare this long?”

Shit. “Oh, sorry. I just… I rarely see anyone’s ink up close.”

To your dismay, he takes his arm back. “I don’t have a lot of time today, princess.”

“Right, sorry. Hold on,” you respond, cringing hard at blurting two apologies in a ten second span.

Meanwhile, your way too handsome regular cocks a brow, clearly comfortable making you squirm as you hand over his bag.

Effortless. In your chaotic life, It’s almost intoxicating feeling someone this resolute in their whole demeanor. If only you could be so commanding and assured one day.

But here you stand instead, pretending to count fruit you one hundred percent know the stock of already. “Your art is really nice, by the way,” you admit to your inventory. “All the high-powers. I like what you picked.”

“Didn’t choose these.”

Ah. Way to assume things.

Raising your head, you make to apologize a third time.

But he’s already retreating with his tangerines, hand stuffed in a pocket and beautiful waves a little less vibrant than you recall.

“What.”

“I worry sometimes.”

His gaze lifts. “About me?”

“Yeah.”

You don’t know why you choose to say that of all things. But it’s honest. You always wonder about him and think about the weapon in his jeans. Does he use it? Does he ever need to?

Maybe you should pick up a hobby or two.

Fingers resting dangerously close, he asks with a tilt of his head, “What would you do, doll? If something happened to someone like me.”

Someone like him? What does that mean?

Great. Now you have even more to wonder about, as if he knew that was your exact predicament.

You stare, roaming along his arms before meeting his eyes—almost. “Find someone else to buy my tangerines.”

Huffing, his brows tick up with his mouth. “I respect that.” His attention doesn’t leave your face as he slowly takes his purchase. “See ya.”

“Bye,” you whisper back, watching him go. More thoughts and concerns bouncing around your mind in the sticky heat of midday.

These little nicknames he’s using also aren’t helping your issue in the slightest.

It starts when you hear shouting from a block down.

“Here they come!”

“Bunch of idiots this time.”

“What do you mean this time?”

Rough raiders this early? They should know it’s almost time for Dragon’s sweep. Bold.

After you hear the telltale yells, clanks, and bangs, your section of the street braces for impact.

And it swoops in like a whirlwind, ruffians tearing through, pillaging and stealing and swiping goods into thick woven baskets.

Baskets? The usual suspects always carry leather bags. You assume because of their sturdiness and inconspicuous nature, but what do you really know.

Here it goes again.

As your fruit is taken right from your cart, you sink to your toes, mourning the regular loss of your menu.

No use fighting. Like every other time, you all let it happen because there’s no point in trying to protect anything that isn’t valuable. Perishables and small homemade goods aren’t worth getting gutted over. Truly, the worst losses you suffer are when—

Your cart shifts violently before thieves topple it over, cracking one of your wheels and splitting the wooden boards in three places.

Springing to your feet, you douse the perpetrators in anger, “What the hell!”

“Oh, this was yours?” Someone chides while his cronies run past. “Thanks for the oranges, love!”

“They’re tangerines!” you correct at his retreating back, kicking your cart before yelping at your bad decision. “Damn it…”

Back to your knees you go. Head drooping, arms encircling, and disappointment pooling around like a shadow.

More shouts and feet in the road rampage through. Then it gets quieter. And quieter.

Then it’s done.

After silence swells in the wake of chaos, groans start making their way down the street.

“What’d they get from you this time,” you ask your neighbor, a charming old man selling anything from bowls to wide, round frying pans.

Looking over his little wreckage, he blinks hard. “They got my woks. Nothing as bad as yours. You okay?”

Walking over to help clean his mess up first, you bend down with a sigh, “I’ll be alright. But it still sucks.. My poor tangerines..”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not much to do about it now,” you resign, all your energy taken from you, too.

A little bit of time passes as you complete your usual round of help, though this raid was worse than others. As they all give their thanks, you keep thinking about how to make the whole situation better. Moreso for them than you because you’ve always been one of the least vulnerable ones on the block.

“You should find another place to sell, dear.”

In disagreement, you slip into a saddened smile. “I can’t leave you guys,” you explain to the lady you’re holding pails for. “Who will help clean everything up?”

“Don’t underestimate your elders now.”

“Fair,” you respond through a chuckle, handing her one of the metal buckets. “If only better protection was an option around here.”

“You know the rules,” another shop owner drones through lingering spices, “Dragon won’t protect us if it isn’t in their own interests.”

Unfortunately, he’s right. Every single raid that hasn’t coincided with a gang sweep goes overlooked. Even the city police don't bother coming down your street anymore, which is another issue in itself.

If only Tiger or Crane had been the high-powers in place instead.

At least they seem to be more fair.

After you finish helping, you finally venture back to your own cart, realizing that the trek is a lot further than you thought.

Did you really walk so far this time? The damage was dealt for much more than a block at this point.

Not like you need to sprint back, though. What’s left to steal? Everything you got swept into those woven containers.

Still so odd…

But not as odd as the sight that greets you on your return.

Because instead of seeing your wreckage of a cart tilted and abysmal, it’s upright and being mended.

By none other than your favorite set of hands.

What the hell? What’s he doing here? You quite literally have nothing to give so there’s no reason for him to spare a second at your broken stand.

Fast-walking, you hastily try to halt his help, “Oh, shit, you don’t have to—”

“Course I don’t.”

That shuts you up. In your split second of silence, you note with agony that his hair is messily tied in a minted bun. Are his sleeves bunched at his biceps, too? Great. What were you even telling him again?

Ah, yes. You were telling this mystery of a man that he doesn’t have to literally put your stand back together. “Seriously, I got it.”

“Don’t sweat it.”

“But it’s my cart, I don’t need your—”

With one look over his shoulder, your mouth snaps shut. And suddenly can’t move to argue again.

What the hell is up with today?

Forget all that. What’s he doing? At least you’re familiar with all the shop owners and vendors on your block, though you can’t say you wouldn’t do the same thing for someone you don’t know. But this guy has always been so standoffish and barely approachable. So how is he lending both hands to help you right now?

Whatever. If he’s gonna be as stubborn as this heat, you can be, too.

Scanning the area for scattered tools, you find a sun-warmed hammer and get to work, fixing one end of the cart while he works on the other. When you feel his gaze on your working shoulder, it takes massive strength to ignore him—even if you wanna know what his issue is and why he smells really, really good this afternoon.

Looks like you need more nails for this board to fit. When your eyes find a couple on the ground, you clinch a second piece between your teeth while hammering in the first.

Sounds stop at your side, but you wait until you pluck the metal nail from your mouth and stamp it in to look over.

Oh. He’s eyeing the hammer. Not you. Obviously.

You wordlessly hand it over, arm slicked with exertion. Because after the day you’ve had, you don’t feel like everything needs a spoken sentence attached.

It takes the guy a bit to take it from you, but when he does, he holds your stare. “Thanks.”

You simply nod, eyes sticking to him as he works on the tattier side wait it looks almost new. Better than it has in a very long time. Did he really get that much done in the time you were gone? There’s been great care taken during his repair if that’s the case.

Hmm. You finally learn something about your favorite customer. Maybe he’s just been a mechanic or carpenter this whole time?

Contemplative, you get up on sore legs to walk to your cooler—something thankfully missed by the rough raiders. Digging through the clinkage, you retrieve a local beer you recently procured from the restaurant across the street.

It’s not much. Absolute bottom shelf. But it’s all you got other than a few pieces of oni-coin, so he’s gonna have to deal with it.

When you offer the glass, your regular eyes it for a moment. More than enough time for you to get a good look at his striking floral top.

Well. Mechanic and carpenter are out of the question because that one piece of clothing looks more expensive than your entire apartment building.

Who even is this guy? Now you feel destitute handing him something so cheap.

Just when you think he’s gonna refuse, he takes the beer and smoothly shucks it open, suddenly making you wonder how a bracelet can do that and why it was so attractive.

God. You need to walk straight to the nearest inlet stream and dunk your head right in.

“Thank you,” you whisper, gulping at his full swigs. “You really didn’t have to do all this.”

“Got some time to kill,” he shrugs. Standing, the man takes another sip, peering along the street with sunlit eyes. With the bottle near his mouth, he murmurs, “You really need to set up somewhere else, doll. This street’s turning into a hot spot.”

Squinting up at the long lines of clothes and curtains floating in the breeze, you sigh at the building nearest. “I live close,” you sulk. “And this is the easiest place to get to.”

Those are excuses. Just tell him the real reason you won’t venture out and plop yourself somewhere more profitable. Well, maybe not all of the reasons, but the main one.

Leaning back on your cart, you stare at the loose dirt, swiping some with your shoes. “Maybe I’m just used to it at this point.”

He won’t respond. Or he’ll respond in his own way, which is mostly silence.

But a bright strand falls over his face before he hums, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Many people have warned you at this point. It’s basically your stubborn and spiteful nature that’s making you stay in the first place. Why would you move when you chose to be here? Why leave a place you actively choose to call home?

Fighting spirit quelled, you nod right to your stand as you count what’s salvageable. “I know, but I like it here.” When he lifts an unbelieving brow, you look away. “It’s true. But trust me, if there was a way to just make it all stop, I’d take it.”

He takes another swig, both of you looking into the street and watching things slowly get back to normal pace. Adults and kids alike are back to wandering around, buying what’s left and offering condolences.

“I’m not fixing another cart,” your patron turned repairman grunts, motioning to your wheel as he steps back. “So don’t fuck this one up.”

Huh? It wasn’t your fault! All the accidents and chaos that blow through aren’t something you can control oh he’s grinning. Why is he grinning? Why do you feel hot all over?

His teeth shine in daylight. “I’m messing with you.”

Ah.

This version of him is not good for you at all.

When he starts to walk away, you blurt out a quick, “Wait!”

Shit! Why did you do that? What are you possibly supposed to say right now? All you wanted was to see him a little longer… And while staring at his backside would be more than enough, you kinda wanted to actually talk.

What do you do? He stopped; he’s waiting.

And he looks impatient as hell.

Snapping into action, you round your cart and trot over, offering your name as if you didn’t just give up where you lived.

Then—without thinking—you ask for his with the most curious, innocent, “What’s yours?”

Silence has never been so booming.

In the dusty swirls of your street, you wait with a back that’s getting sweatier and colder with each passing second.

Was that not okay to ask? Did you fuck up with a single question?

Perfect. You just blew your one good thing about being out here. Wincing, you crush your words so hard you think your teeth will break into dust, drifting off into the very breeze wafting his striking locks.

After a condescending puff, he only smirks.

Then he takes one step. And another. And another.

The air around you melts, weighing on your shoulders while lighting them aflame all at once. It’s a feeling you can’t describe to anyone else, because they would just need to stand next to this man to believe it.

Checking to see if the street is clear, your best customer leans over. Slowly. Purposefully. “Yoongi,” he offers with a voice so handsome you’ll think about it for days. “But don’t fucking tell anyone.”

Oh.

Why did… you kinda like that?

Blinking, you swallow. “I won’t.”

This is when he’s supposed to just leave. He’d walk away, bag swinging with his strides. But ever keeping you on your sore toes, the man just chuckles low before rasping out the most devilish sentence in existence,

“Always took you for a good girl.”

Then he backs away, turning on his heel and leaving you a statue in the street.

Yoongi.

For a hardened soul, his name is so…

Tender.

For the next sixty days, you don’t get ransacked once.

But there’s also been no sight of Yoongi.

As the weeks trudge by, you can’t decide which outcome is worse.

The skies are magnificent today. But obviously at a molten price.

“Thank you for trying,” you say to a lovely wares owner before venturing back out into simmering streets. Exhaling, you wipe sweat from your brow, squinting before choosing to walk left or right.

Left seems promising.

You’ve been searching for hours now, perusing through shops, checking out vendors both nice and catty. But after a whole day’s search, you still haven’t found what you’re looking for.

It’s nothing urgent or pressing. But you would at least like to be prepared.

Since your initial mission is a bust, hopefully your next one makes up for it before you melt right into gravel and dirt.

Find a meal.

Walking along the busy roads, you pass a few options and keep them in mind, making sure to greet a fellow tangerine cart vendor with a smile. Hopefully they do well today.

A couple steps further, a giant cooler catches your eye. Seafood of all types lie inside along cubes of ice, and you weigh the pros and cons of smelling like fish just to have a cool head.

But before you can make any choices, the smell of spices and hearty soup softly pull your feet inside the restaurant nearby.

What’s here? Noodles? You’re always down for that. Apparently even in scorching weather.

After ordering, you take your seat at a random middle table in a chair facing the entrance.

Always facing the entrance.

Damn. You really need to accomplish what you set out to do. But sunset is fast approaching these days, and you aren’t anywhere close to home. All you have time for now is eating and heading out.

The service here is quick, at least. You’re already thanking the owner for sliding a bowl in front of your sweaty form.

With a head full of thoughts, you stare into nothing, stirring your noodles and waiting for the heat to die down.

Maybe you should’ve just walked a shorter distance and checked the shops you originally wanted to browse. If things went to plan, you could’ve been back by now, freshly showered and curling up on a worn down bed.

But instead, your feet are sore, your head is anything but washed, and you have to trek home empty-handed—on the first day off you’ve had in months.

Defeated, you sigh, going back to your bowl and watching sliced vegetables swirl in aromatic broth.

At least the food in this area seems good. And the fading decor really adds to the…

Ambiance.

Wait.

Dragons. A lot of them.

You can’t pull your eyes away from the crew walking in, bringing heat from the sweltering sun in their eyes and donning their telltale, striking teal.

But you can only kid yourself for so long because the one that truly has your gaze tethered is the man in front. The one you haven’t seen in weeks. The one looking right back at you with a visage so shadowed you feel like moving tables to let him pass.

…Yoongi?

His jacket. The colors.

He’s in Dragon?

Suddenly his hair makes terrifying sense.

As his guys stalk through, you swallow hard, not expecting to see him and having no earthly idea what to do with this harrowing information. There are so many thoughts overlapping each other that they all amalgamate into one huge batch of sludge.

Aren’t you smack dab in Crane territory? There’ve been white suits peppering the streets everywhere.

So what the hell is Dragon doing here?

From the slight confusion pinching his forehead, you know Yoongi didn’t expect to see you, either. Which makes it even weirder when he slowly takes your chopsticks right from your fingers.

Hold on, what—

“What are you—”

A lone, long digit over lips is the only response you get, silencing you immediately before you whip your head around to watch him rush past.

All of them waste no time tearing up the stairs, a myriad of blues blending with gritty paint and smoke.

And just like that, your reunion is over.

Home. You need to go home. Leave, leave, leave, because something is bound to be going down upstai—

A thud faintly shoots out into the staircase, and you spin around again in your chair, eyes snapping to the ceiling.

Shit.

Even though you’re on high alert, you realize with a quick sweep that no one else is noticing. Or moving. Or even paying attention to anything else but their own company.

Does no one else care about the commotion? Do hits happen in this area that often?

Mind running, you can’t decide what to do. Because even though Yoongi’s guys have plenty of weapons, he clearly had nothing since he needed to borrow your damn eating utensils.

Another crash rains dust on conversations around your shoulders, causing you to look up one last time.

Go home, go home, go home. In what universe would Yoongi himself ever need your help here?

With one more look at your noodles, you curl your lips before biting a side.

Already yelling at yourself for choosing to book it towards the back staircase.

Shit shit shit this is so stupid. This is probably the worst decision you’re gonna make in your life.

But your gut is churning thinking about Yoongi. Even a seasoned swordsman needs expertise to wield mere chopsticks and win.

Fuck, if you succeeded in your search today, you probably could’ve been a little more useful.

Swiping your own set of red from a nearby cup, you hightail it up, slowing as you round a corner and immediately hear multiple clangs and scuffles beyond the last turn.

Stop. You can go back. You can still turn around and go home.

An inhale.

Your feet propel you up and into a dark hall. As you slowly slide along the wall, your gut churns and churns. At a bang, you crouch with a skipped beat of your heart.

This is really, really dumb. But you can’t stop yourself and you have no clue why.

Nothing happens around you. So you keep going. With each careful slide of your foot, you get closer and closer to the noise.

Approaching the corner, you very slowly stick your head out for a peek.

And it’s pure commotion. Pure chaos. Holy shit, what is going on?

Fuck, there’s already a body lying limp on the floor meters away—

Your chopsticks. You wanna hurl.

But a man flies out of a room ahead before he grips and wrestles with another, and you reel yourself back to avoid being seen by either one.

Where is Yoongi? Is he okay? Did he leave already?

You give one more peek, scanning the long raucous corridor as swift as you can to see any sign of.. Mint.

He’s still here. How’s he just walking so nonchalant as his crew fucks shit up? Crap, he just went into a room and out of sight.

“Where’d they go?”

“Upstairs!”

Fuck, that was in the restaurant! Get up get up you have no choice but to hide now.

With pounding steps, you rush forward and book it, entering a large room to dive behind some steel shelving and large, woven baskets right as more Dragons come in behind with fists clenched.

Breathe. Steady. Calm the fuck down.

The grunts rush to the hallway to join the fray, and you wait in the now pungent solitude of your room. With only a still body to accompany you.

What do you do? What even can you do?

Just as nerves grip your stomach like a vice, Yoongi strides into the open area, heading right for the exit and not even sparing his kill a glance.

Go. Go now. Why can’t you move? Why aren’t your hands letting go of your cold confinement? It smells like death and blood and you need to leave with the only person you know—or don’t—so why can’t your feet just fucking—

Someone else slithers into the room. A man in brown with a knife. A knife, a knife, a knife he’s getting faster and Yoongi doesn’t hear him the guy is too quiet fuck! “Yoongi!”

It all happens before your brain can paint the bloody picture. Shooting out from your hiding spot, you race towards the assassin, slamming into their lanky build just in time.

Both of you topple to the ground, your target roaring in pain and twisting like hell to fight back fuck you didn’t get him how you needed to he’s got you—

Pain erupts in your hip as you’re grabbed, the room spinning as you’re thrown to the side and your ear hitting concrete right before chopsticks ping down. Thinking quick, you knee the guy as hard as you can, scrambling to finish the job because if you don’t, you’re gone gone gone.

“Bitch!” Your opponent clutches your shirt right as you reach for the nearest red pair, seizing your throat right as you grip and swing them around to stab the other side of his neck with a yell.

Luckiest timing of your life.

“Hng!” Fuck, he’s still holding down hard and choking, choking, squeezing. “Fuck you!”

Fight back. Keep the weapon inside he’s too strong finish him finish him.

Darkness. Ink drops in water. Your vision taints as your grip loosens, and you can only hope that Yoongi got away safe. He had to. At least you… Were able to do…

This one thing…

…

Oxygen and life rush back into your lungs, color burning through your esophagus as you gasp for sweet sweet air. Right as you come to, all you witness is the heavy heel of a boot twisting the forearm latched onto you.

And when the shoe leaves your vision. Lifeless eyes stare back.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck that was close. Oh god. You actually did it. Oh fuck.

Coughing, you rush up as you get tugged and pulled right against chains and embroidery, your ears ringing with a gravelly command and glass breaking in the nearby corridor,

“Don’t say my fuckin’ name so loud.”

“Excuse me?”

Yoongi roughly lets you go before pinning you with pure anger. Not to say thank you. Not to tell you any words of gratitude at all. The only other thing he finds the need to say is simply,

“You shouldn’t be up here.”

What the fuck. You just murdered someone for him and this is all you get? Eyes welling, you feel your body slick and sticky with crimson when you turn, coughing and spitting out regret before you wheeze, wheeze, wheeze, “That’s—that’s all you have to say?”

Dread swirls around your stomach like poison.

But the sternness from before completely vanishes as Yoongi lifts your chin. His eyes scan your throat and chest, and you rip your head away from his touch because he is not excused just yet.

“It’s not mine,” you snap, knowing exactly what he’s looking for and what you must look like to him. Dirty. Gross. Certainly a far image from the girl selling tangerines.

But your face is gently held again, and somehow this softer turn carries more strength to swivel you forward.

Why is Yoongi still looking? Now he’s holding your gaze as if he’s never seen you before. What’s that about? You’re still the same, the same, the same.

…Are you?

More crashes and shots are heard down the hall, and Yoongi snaps his head up in an instant.

God, you smell. You reek. Your nose is tainted and your hands even more so. There’s no way he’s gonna have anything to do with you now.

But you get the shock of the century when the man commands you to come along. “Let’s go.”

Absolutely not. This is all you got in you for a lifetime. “What? No, no, no. No way, I’m going home.”

“And they’ll follow you the whole way back.”

“I—I didn’t mean to—”

Shots ring out before grunts barrel out into the short hallway. All of them piling out from crevasses and hidden passages.

You give one more look at the two men now crumpled on the ground, bile rising up and threatening to spill.

“Tough shit, princess. You did, now live with it.”

Live with it. How poetic.

You were protecting him. You did what you had to do. But you have blood on your hands again and now Yoongi will see you as something else besides a fucking street vendor.

“Are you coming or not?”

You’re gonna puke your guts out.

With a stilted cry, you bend to snatch your weapons up yet again—gagging at the squelches and much deeper red—before following Yoongi’s long steps.

Your hands. They’re shaking so bad you can’t even pocket the chopsticks properly. But you finally get them down, crushing your palms and squeezing just to stop them from rattling.

When you wait behind Yoongi checking the corner, you turn around to make sure you aren’t being followed. And seeing the hallway still a moving mass of broken glass and hard swings, you think you’re safe.

The stairs feel so different on the way down. Is that because you feel completely changed? There’s no coming back from this. Another side of you died right alongside those two people upstairs.

No time to think about that. You have to follow his lead. And he’s slowing down why is he slowing down?

Oh. Normal. Be normal to not garner suspicion. You have to do the same.

Wait. You can’t go down there with a shirt full of stained evidence! Grabbing him and pulling back, you whisper, “Yoongi—”

His growl is so fierce your head spins, “What the fuck did I say about my n—”

“My clothes,” you panic. “I can’t.”

Yoongi gives you a quick look before gripping the duffle strap. Brows lowered, he grits out while dumping it, “Lose the shirt.”

“What?”

“Do it.”

“Where’d he go?”

“It’s gone!”

Your heads snap up before you lock eyes. And he doesn’t need to say anything to show you what he’s thinking behind those minted bangs.

As you hastily strip, your brain works in weird ways. Instead of processing how you very much need to hurry the fuck up, you lament the bra of choice today. And how sweaty you look. Because of course those are your thoughts of choice right now.

Something’s dumped on you before your shirt hits the ground, and you think about its warmth before you realize exactly what’s on your shoulders. “You sure?”

He’s already heading down. Oh god. You’re really putting this on shit shit shit.

You’re quick to slip into the material before checking for your chopsticks, rushing down the rest of the stairs to meet him. Nerves firing on all cylinders, you follow Yoongi out of the restaurant with a single, disturbing thought.

This is going too well.

But you’re passing tables, you’re walking by the fish display, don’t fucking sob you’re out in the street now.

Relax. You’re walking. His white tee is flawless and people have no clue you left a bloody shirt on a stairwell. Don’t fucking cry.

But suddenly.

Shouting erupts behind you both, just as a cop car rolls past the restaurant only to get surrounded.

And with one look back, your brain freezes. Right before Yoongi sounds a little too delighted to say something so foreboding,

“Looks like you’re in it now.”

Adrenaline spikes as you burst into motion. Hot summer air stings your lungs as legs propel you forward, with nothing in sight except for your partner in high crime.

Yoongi’s right.

You’re in it now.

And just like the delinquents that you despise, the two of you both kick up dust on the run.

You’re really doing this.

Holy shit, you’re really doing this and there’s no waking up, no jolting awake, no pinching yourself to know that it’s all a dream. The only thing pinching is your sides, fresh stings of karma with each heavy footstep through crowded streets, buildings, levels, wherever the fuck you go.

At least Yoongi is commanding as he leads you through the city—clearly from a heap of experience. Though rattled, you follow him with more adrenaline than questions. Because running is all you know. Run, run, run, escaping is your only objective and you cannot let up even once.

Your feet pelt down a staircase before you leap onto a disposal bin, impact denting as you follow Yoongi’s long strides across the colorful tops. Shouts and metal pings echo behind you as your chasers catch up, and you grit your teeth so hard they rattle as you jump to alley ground. “Fuck!”

Searing, searing pain rushes through your legs as you twist and wind through busy corridors, squeezing into the gaps Yoongi finds as he barrels in front.

“Get back here!”

“You fuckers!”

Who’s following you? Are they even Crane? You don’t see a shred of white on their clothes at all so are they working for some random guy Yoongi stole from?

When you watch him turn at the shouting, all thoughts vanish as your gut churns.

He’s grinning.

You just killed someone for him. And he probably has more blood on his hands than you can imagine.

And he’s… enjoying this?

You feel sick, mind blazing with a million red warning signs. How could you ever have had feelings for h—

You bounce off a passerby as you run, grunting at the sudden pain in your shoulder when another person rams into your back and topples you over, dirt scraping into your palms and knees.

Shit shit shit it’s so dusty on the ground and all you see are traveling shoes where are you? Where is he did he leave did he even see you fall? It’s too condensed here there’s no way he’s not taking the next chance to disappear.

Forget all of that, they’re coming. The chasers are coming and you see them see you down get up get up get up what the fuck get up now.

Ripping out a groan, you rush to your feet as soon as someone swoops in, bashing someone right behind you with someone’s crate of fruit.

Yoongi? He waited for you?

“Go!”

Both of you hightail it with you now in the lead, and your eyes buzz as you slip through holes in the crowd. Left, left, right, around, left again, between.

An intersection ahead. Yes. Lose everyone in the vehicle traffic or hitch a ride with a stranger. Fascinating how the survival tactics that spawn from your block develop in real time on the run.

Almost there, almost there, almost there—fuck!

Whiffing in front of your nose, a metal weapon smacks the ground at your toes.

Flailing, you dodge the next swing, ducking before you see a black duffle smack your assailant in the face.

Keep going. Finish him and get away. As Yoongi shifts left, you lunge forward, sending a swift punch to the guy’s ribs that hurt like hell goddamn oh fuck someone brought a knife!

“Yoongi!” Just as the surrounding civilians yell and clear out, you rush toward his aid before you’re tackled, air whooshing out of your lungs as your back pummels into gravel. Fuck fuck fuck this masked woman also has a dagger. A thick one. Don’t let her win don’t let her win hold on for dear fucking life.

Did you think you’d find yourself in a grudge match to keep metal from sinking into your chest today? No. Ever? Also no.

Your arms are shaking. Shots ring out. Sweat is your enemy. The street is in uproar. Where’s Yoongi did he hear you? Fuck, the metal tip is pricking you now this is—

Mercifully, your attacker yelps as something slams into her side, dark brown clothes crumpling before you’re hoisted upward and dragged back into the crowd.

“Let me go or I’ll kick your ass—”

“You good?”

Oh, it’s Yoongi. Again. Okay. Eyes swirling, you lock onto the gun held flush in his other hand before you nod. “I—I think so—”

“Then keep up.”

Winding between people, you’re only focused on getting away. But when you catch glimpses of him, he’s back to his glint. He’s exhilarated.

If only you were both doing anything else. If only you weren’t so queasy and guilty and loathing of your own self.

Right as you finally burst into bustling traffic, Yoongi boldly stops a taxi at its hood, motioning you to follow him inside.

Shocked but head reeling, you open the door closest to your sweaty legs and slide in.

And before you can even greet the shouting driver, Yoongi pulls you to his side and rushes something out in your ear,

“Kiss me.”

“I said get out!”

“What?”

“Come here.”

You’ve kissed before. Not many times, but enough to know that this man knows what the fuck he’s doing because you feel like your soul just abandoned you to exist in this car forever. You don’t know why this is happening or where this came from, but his lips feel as soft as his name and as deadly as the gun he’s pulling on your driver—

“Han Station,” he drawls, halting time and space. “Or your papers are burned by morning.”

Oh.

You were just… Oh.

Lips puffed and head swirling, you sit frozen in your spot, marinating in the realization that the best kiss of your life was a mere distraction. And as you watch Yoongi keep his aim straight, you assume he probably didn’t even think much of it, either.

“…I thought you looked familiar,” the driver slowly grits, hands gripping his wheel before he shakes his head. “You’re a little far from home.”

You think that’s all he’s gonna say. But his eyes are sharp in the rear view mirror, knowing a gun is pointed straight at his dome. “Aren’t you.”

What is he getting at you need to leave fast—

“Agust.”

…Huh?

Agust?

This is the first time you feel a heartbeat against your arm, and you hold a breath as Yoongi tightens his fingers on the gun.

When he doesn’t reply, the car fills to the brim with tension, and you feel crushed by its liquid weight.

Don’t you have to go? Aren’t you in a chase? Are you getting a little too hot?

When you go to slide to your own side of the car for some space, the hand around your shoulder squeezes.

And you’re more confused, exhausted, and thrown off than ever.

“Han Station,” is all Yoongi—Agust?—repeats, voice ice. “Now.”

To which the taxi driver stares, standing his ground until he breaks eye contact first to obey.

“Fuckin’ Dragons and their useless whores.”

Oh, fuck that.

Before you can lunge forward to outright strangle the man, Yoongi does something that has your eyes magnifying into saucers and hands shooting up to your mouth.

He fires the gun straight at the man’s thigh, yelps leaving both the driver's throat and yours holy fuck!

“You bastard—”

“You’ll live. Drive.”

“Fucking—fuck!”

The car shifts through traffic, swerving left and right and cutting off slower vehicles. When force smushes you closer into Yoongi’s side, you can’t help but notice how fit he is, and how calm he’s being despite the whole chase. Despite that spike in adrenaline. Despite blowing a hole in a stranger’s leg for six words.

He also feels really, really good against your side, but you can’t let that matter anytime soon. There’s absolutely no way you can let this dangerous man in, especially after this entire nightmare of a day.

So you swallow, trying to compartmentalize because you’ll reach insanity if you don’t.

Does anyone out there know you took a life minutes ago? Or hours ago? You just kissed a criminal five and a half minutes ago. Would they care about that, too?

The window is suddenly much more interesting than any of your wandering, slingshot thoughts.

Wait. It’s very pretty in this area, and you finally can tell some semblance of where you are. Because you only know of one part of the city that looks like this, and it’s deep in Crane territory.

Did you both really make it this far?

Carefully tended to, it’s a lot greener on the sidewalks, and more open on the roads. And it’s on one of these roads that you finally notice the sunset, gold accents shining on sleek street signs and the tops of buildings that seem much more at rest than you do.

Rest. Sleep. Home.

With the luck you’re having, it would be a miracle and a half to reach even one of the three.

Did you get followed? You don’t know how much longer you can run, so you really fucking hope not.

“Almost there,” Yoongi whispers, voice scratching your ear in the worst and best ways. “When we get out, move your ass.”

When you watch the wary, heavy breathing driver in his rear view mirror, you bite out, “I know how to get out of a car, thanks.”

“Just listen to me.”

“Why?”

“Do you trust me?”

“No.”

That came out quicker than you could stop it. But Yoongi only lets silence come between you before he squeezes your shoulder. When he speaks, you can hear how carved out his smirk is without even seeing it,

“Good girl.”

And you spoke the truth. It wouldn’t have come out so fast if it weren’t. But you know to at least follow his advice here because he’s kept you alive thus far. He didn’t need to drag you out and protect you the whole way, so it’s not like he would steer you wrong here. Right?

Right?

“Here,” Yoongi orders before the car slows to a stop.

That wasn’t so bad. You can get out normally now so why did Yoongi say—

Right as your foot hits ground, the taxi peels out, forcing you to throw yourself out of the side before the rest of your body leaves with it.

Fucking hell that hurt what the fuck was that for?

Dirt and dust coats your tongue before you do anything to spit it out. Saliva rushes from your glands as you cough and hack, all while feeling every muscle group in your body begging to not stand up.

But you feel rough, commanding hands on your arms. “You good?”

“Yeah—”

“Then get up. Get up.”

Straining and wincing like hell, you follow Yoongi’s lead yet again. Because you hear cars rolling up with bad intentions and that means you have to sprint again.

What the fuck did Yoongi steal? And how the hell are these guys still on your tail? Their resources have got to be as good as Crane’s and yet, they don’t feel the same at all.

You’re hobbling, but you’re going. You’re rushing. You’re going to get through this alive.

Instead of heading into the underground, you find yourself ascending a flight of steps. Rumbles and rattles hit your ears as you realize exactly what kind of station this is—one you haven’t seen anywhere in your district.

Han Station is a floating railway?

Holy shit, where are you?

Yoongi skids around a corner before you plant hard to stop yourself, only to see him clash with someone before something connects right with your stomach, and you crumple before you feel a solid hit to your head.

Oh.

The world spins and moves as you hear vibrations, slowed sounds that could be shouts. Gunshots? Or maybe songs? You don’t truly know but your head is aching—

Your arm rushes up to block something before your body follows, and you scream before gripping whatever you can and flipping a whole body forward.

Reality crashes back into your ears as you snap out of your head.

You haven’t had to do that maneuver in forever. Was muscle memory more than enough?

“Come on!”

Go. Go, follow him, both of you need to get to the rail shit it’s leaving!

The blaring reverberates through the air, pinging off metal and wheels screeching on the track lines as you bolt for the open doors.

Mid-stride, Yoongi swings to look at the people barreling up the stairs. “One more time: do you trust me?”

“No!”

“Good”—his hands grip your waist—“Jump!”

Head empty, you leap onto the railcar right as it starts to pick up speed, and you watch in horror as Yoongi empties his clip behind him until he can’t anymore.

“Yoo—” Fuck, what was his name? He seems to not prefer the one you call him and that has to be for good reason. What was it?

You’re leaving. He’s gritting his teeth while hitting the bottom of his gun but he needs to get up! What was his fucking name!

“Agust!”

Yoongi finally whips his head around, dashing to the end of the train and straining to carry the duffle.

He needs to launch it or leave it behind. There’s no way he’s not being weighed down so hard. “Here!” you yell, knowing that look is only reserved for people he doesn’t want to trust. It’s normal. But it still stings. “Hurry up!”

After one more second, he swings it around and flings, leaping onto the side handrail after you get blasted by the bag holy fuck that hurt.

He was running with this the whole time? No wonder his shoulders are so cut this is heavy.

Straining, you peek out into the wind, seeing Yoongi holding on and scooting along thin steprails towards your awaiting hands.

Shit, this is dangerous. Buildings and the city below fly by, and a parallel train whooshes and roars past as you finally tug him inside with shaky wheezes.

Just like that.

You made it out.

What the fuck. You did it. No one else was able to get onto the train. You’re safe for now.

Finally, finally, finally able to breathe.

But goddamn, you both stand out like blood on a blank page.

As you struggle to fully stand, you notice everyone else on the train—well-kept, carrying themselves in sleek linens and lush outfits, hair done beautifully and to perfection.

Which makes it unsurprising that plenty of them regard the pair of you with suspicion and morbid curiosity. While intrigue covers the one with an unfairly handsome face, zings of jealousy and judgment fire your way.

You feel so out of place. You are so out of place. But that doesn’t give anyone the right to look at you like filth. The words from the taxi driver pierce your brain again, and you feel rage and pain bubble up to your tongue,

“Anyone got something they wanna sa—”

But Yoongi does something that has your brain chemistry altering because he casually bends a knee in front of you while holding the top rail, forcing you back into the side of the train car and only seeing his jewelry.

When your eyes snap to his, he regards you before peering outside. “Stop,” he mutters. “You're causing a scene.”

“Me?” Oh, he has some nerve. “What did I do, you’re the one—”

“Quiet.”

Ridiculous. Huffing, you let disagreement tug your lips while joining him in watching the world go by.

Realizing with a pang that you are probably never getting back home. You’re never gonna see your favorite neighbor with his woks and caterpillar eyebrows. All the produce you were planning to sell will only succumb to mold and time.

Your tangerines…

When a tear falls, it glints in your reflection before quickly being swiped away.

No. Don’t do any of that here where people can see—where he can see. No one will know what the hell you just went through today. Be normal, strong, normal.

The ride lasts a little longer, with people coming and going during each stop. When there are seats open, neither you nor Yoongi move to take them. The two of you stay glued where you stand.

Silent, together, and covered in hidden blood.

The next stop seems to be in a quieter sector of the city. All around you are buildings you’ve never seen before stretching miles into the sky, and the streets are so neatly paved you’re convinced they’re fake.

“This is us,” Yoongi whispers, hand guiding your hip to move toward the doors.

Skin scorching under his touch, you can only nod.

Where are you now? Where are you getting off?

You both exit the train with a few others, and you watch with heightened curiosity as they carry satchels and wear shoes that look horribly uncomfortable. As you move down the steps, you keep craning your neck to take everything in, and more questions fill your head than answers.

But the truth remains even as you and Yoongi stop in front of your destination.

You cannot run anymore. Even if more of whoever those guys were showed up, you may just choose to sit down instead of take another stride. Besides, your body is still running a thousand steps even though you haven’t moved since getting on the train anyway. After today, the chase may never stop.

“We’ll stay here.”

We? Stay?

“Here? This place is…” You keep peering up and up, the top of the building so high your neck hurts. It’s so foreign and magical your only adjective is a quiet, “Nice.”

At your side, Yoongi seems annoyed when he asks, “Expect something different?”

“Yeah, like… I dunno, a secret lair or something.”

Air whooshes from his nostrils, but there’s a stark absence of a smile. Looking up at the building, too, he explains something that you’ve never heard of before,

“We’re in a grey zone. No one will follow us here.”

Right. Because that somehow makes sense to regular civilians like you. Because you are one, are one, are one. “Allegedly,” you scoff, not knowing what to believe anymore.

Yoongi pauses before heading up, and his agreement makes you look. “Allegedly.”

Mm.

After taking the tiny steps to the entrance, you wonder what he must be thinking bringing your haphazard look in tow.

Because he could’ve left you behind at any point in time. But he didn’t. What does that mean? Why is he keeping you alive and at his side?

While you’re taking in the opulent and vast lobby, Yoongi guides you toward the front desk, shifting the duffle on his shoulder.

This place is gorgeous. Nothing like you’ve ever seen. How were they able to install a waterfall in a building? What kind of money does this so-called grey zone have?

Yoongi nods toward the concierge, who quickly nods back and scurries away and into a room.

If you weren’t so tired, you could probably make something of that exchange. But you are very much exhausted so frankly, you don’t give a shit right now.

Although. You do give a shit about the fingers suddenly interlacing with your own. As your hand is held, you shoot your best client a look so potent he stares back. “What now,” you snip, question low and dripping with distrust.

Unfazed, Yoongi slowly pulls you into his side, a steady hand coming up to wrap around your tired hips. So nonchalant, so lax, so confusing as he murmurs,

“Just wanted to.”

Your heart trips into the next beat.

On sore legs, you wait until the concierge comes back with a key, eyes swiping over you as if they finally noticed your existence. Which seems to perplex them as they hand over the metal device.

And Yoongi just takes it, not a word said before he directs you across the lobby to what look like elevators.

Even these look fancy as fuck. Wherever you are and whatever this place is, you feel even more out of place than on that judgy train.

A hotel worker bows before he motions to the opening doors. “Nice to see you again,” he murmurs to the ground, seemingly expecting the same non-response given to the front desk. “Would you like the usual, Mister—”

“No,” Yoongi clips him off. “Not this time.”

“Understood.”

Brows pinched, you’re starting to get a weird feeling.

How does everyone know Yoongi so well here? He said this was a grey zone, which you’d think would be akin to a neutral or non-threatening one. So why does it feel like he’s got this area on lock? Who exactly are you getting into an elevator with?

…Who exactly did you save?

Yoongi was right when he said you’re in it now. But faced with more questions surrounding him than anything or anyone else, you’re starting to wonder what pit of hell you dropped yourself into.

Especially after catching the look of utter panic from the serviceman.

Right before sliding doors shut the world out.

—

⟶ what do we feel! | 🥢 join the taglist 🥢 | masterlist

a/n: thank you all for being so patient as i work through this! it was originally supposed to be a oneshot, but i like, need characters to get to know and learn about one another before heading into spice lmao. I NEED PLOT OK. THERE WILL BE LOTS OF SMUT I PROMISE DSHFKDSF we just gotta get through the slow burn first >:)) a/n 2: if there's something you liked about this or a line/scene/whatever thing you enjoyed, feel free to let me know! feedback is never expected, but always appreciated. if the interest level is high, that adds motivation like no other. thank you all for reading! ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist ⇥ minted masterlist

#NEW YOONGI LETS GOOO #bts fic #bts imagines #bts reactions #yoongi fic #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #bts smut #bts fanfic #*latest #ryenwrites #minted #*ryenfictalk #tw: violence #tw: blood #tw: murder

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vrystalius · 5 months ago

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💕 Love Languages of the Upper Moons + Muzan

How the Upper Moons and Muzan express their love language for you!

Here is my masterlist for the hashira.

Here is my masterlist for the demons.

Note: I added Daki as a platonic bonus. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Brief mention of being parents in Douma’s part. It’s right at the end and just one sentence <3

Pairing: Muzan, Kokushibo, Douma, Akaza, Gyutaro, Daki x gn!reader

❤️ Muzan Kibutsuji ❤️

Quality Time (intensity: 9/10)

Muzan would call himself a busy man, but he likes having you around while doing his experiments. Just having your presence near him just makes him calm and able to concentrate on his experiments. But besides that, Muzan likes to spend time with you. Over his thousands of years of living, he’s spend a lot of time doing many things, and yet spending his valuable time with you made him the happiest and content he’s ever been. Even if he won’t admit.

Also, Muzan enjoys holding you in bed. He himself doesn’t need sleep, not that he can sleep, but he will hold you and caress you until you fall asleep. He will remain the whole night, just silently laying there watch your chest go up and down, brushing your hair out of your face.

Giving/receiving gifts (intensity: 8/10)

Gifts don’t mean anything to Muzan, but you giving him little trinkets you found on the market, or a new article of clothing you thought would suit him makes him feel happy. Those things have a meaning to him, unlike the other meaningless garbage. Muzan will make sure to wear the clothes or keep the trinkets close to show how much he appreciates him.

But what Muzan loves even more is to shower you in gifts. Thanks to Gyokko and the pot selling business, Muzan is very wealthy. That means he can buy you all the food you like, all the clothes you want, and all the little trinkets your heart desires. That man will spoil you, and he will do it until the end of time.

“Would you like to go to a new restaurant that just opened in the southern district, my light? I heard your favourite dish is server there.”

💜Kokushibo💜

Words of affirmation (intensity: 9/10)

Kokushibo doesn’t talk a lot, but he likes listening to you. You talking about your day makes him content, almost a little envying your simple life. No matter how simple or boring something may seem to you, he’d want to hear it. Not being able to go outside with you during the day kind of kills him.

Also, you complimenting him boasts his confidence and pride, especially when you compliment his skill. He has trained for centuries and always envied his brother for being more talented and stronger, so you admiring something he worked so hard for makes him beam of pride.

Kokushibo also likes praising you for your skill in whatever you’re doing right now. Sketching, writing, training or whatever. Kokushibo likes to admire you and express his affections with compliments.

Receiving/Giving gifts (intensity: 6/10)

Kokushibo used to work with wood, carving small things like animals out of wood. He lost interest in that little hobby shortly after becoming a demon, but picked it back up after starting a relationship with you. You once found a very, very old wooden figure he carved and told him you liked it, so he started carving those things again. It relaxes him, but also he likes seeing you happy and appreciate his art.

He showed you everything he carved, almost childishly begging for you to praise his artwork

“My moon, would you like to see the new project I’m working on? … Yes, it’s a little statue of you…. Do you like it?”

🩵 Douma 🩵

Physical affection (intensity: 10/10)

Douma wants to be near you, preferably on you, on all times. His hand has to be somewhere on your body, may it be on your shoulder, around your waist, on your thigh or just holding your hand. You’re near him during sermons, near him during his free time, and in his arms when you sleep. He doesn’t need sleep, just like the other demons, but he likes cuddling you while you do so. It kind of gives him a power trip, you being all trusting and vulnerable while he, a man-eating demon, cuddles and watches over you.

Just to test your limits, he likes teasing you as well. Pinching and squeezing your skin on all kinds of areas, watching your reactions and laughing at them. You’re so adorable, do you know that? He could eat you right up!

Acts of service (intensity: 8/10)

People serve Douma every day and night, giving gifts from all kinds of people, poor or rich. It’s boring and meaningless to him, because he probably got every gift in the world at least twice or trice (expect the blue spider lily of course). What Douma does like to do, is to “serve” you., instead of being served for once. Massages, kisses, cooking (he’s trying) or just doing little chores for you. The only thing he wants in return is the appropriate amount of kisses, cuddles and praises!

Quality time (intensity: 6/10)

Douma adores spending time with you doing whatever! Sometimes it’s just you sitting with him during the sermons, or sitting together in the bathhouse, or you watching him make his little Douma ice sculptures. He likes making little you’s out of ice and play house with you. His little Douma’s are the papa, and the little you’s the mama. It sounds silly, but it’s adorable and he loves it

“My dear lotus! Where are you going, hmm? I’m not finished kissing and coddling you yet! And don’t give me any excuses this time!”

💛Akaza💛

Receiving/Gifting gifts (intensity: 6/10)

Akaza would occasionally steal things for you from people’s homes, dressing you in nice clothes and beautiful hairpins. He picks up everything he believes would suit you. He also likes stealing sweets and food for you, making sure to grab all your favourite foods. He can’t eat them himself, but he likes sitting beside you while you eat, and it makes him very proud when you wear the things he stole for you.

Akaza also melts when you gift him things, whatever it is. He likes handmade things the most. Whimsy flower-crowns or handmade bracelets make him all giddy and warm inside, and he will wear them with pride (enduring all the side eyes and teasing he will receive from the other Upper Moons).

Quality Time (intensity: 8/10)

Akaza likes being around you. That’s when he feels the safest and most welcome. Something he enjoys doing the most is watching fireworks with you, when another festival comes around. The moment between you two as he holds you close, sitting together on a rooftop just makes him feel… human. It remind him of something he once had once but then lost, and you keep reminding him of it. Akaza can’t quite put the finger on it what exactly it is you remind him off, but he doesn’t really mind. He just wants to savour the moment with you and hold you a little longer, just until the fireworks are finished and the sun starts coming up.

“My, my Akaza-dono!~ What’s this? A bracelet? It looks so colourful!”

“Take your damn eyes of it and then kill yourself.”

💚 Gyutaro Shabana 💚

Words of affirmations (intensity: 10/10)

At the start of your relationship, Gyutaro hated it when you called him handsome or pretty, or compliment anything on his appearance. It makes him feel itchy and dirty, as if you’re just lying straight to his face.

But after a while, he warmed up to them more and more. Now, Gyutaro out right craves your words and compliments. It boosts his pride and confidence, and it makes him feel wanted and cherished for. Just one nice word makes his complete day, maybe even week. It’s like he’s addicted to your praise.

He’ll try to return the favour, but he just can’t out into words how MUCH he really loves you. Gyutaro can’t decide what he should praise you on. There are just so many things about you that are beautiful to him, he just can’t decide and starts stuttering, sometimes accidentally throwing an insult your way.

Physical touch (intensity: 8/10)

Just like praises, physical touch was something Gyutaro resented at the beginning of the relationship. Why do you want to touch him anyway? He’ll just end up ruining your clothes, or worse, make you hate him even more than you probably do!

After a while, a very long time, he starts getting used to it. Now, he’s very addicted to that as well. Gyutaro is very similar to a feral cat that needs to learn how to love and get loved, and when you show him enough patience, he’ll be a cuddle bug. He wants to hold you, cuddle you and be wrapped in your arms as well.

“A-Are you done talking w-with your pretty lips? I-I wanna be h-held now. I-I’m clean, I swe-swear!”

Bonus:

(Platonic)

🩷Daki Shabana🩷

Receiving/Giving gifts (intensity: 9/0)

Daki is used to being spoiled, and she likes giving you gifts as much as you give her some. In her eyes, it’s some sort of competition. You gift her a golden hairpin, she’ll give you a diamond-golden-hand made hairpin. You give her a new kimono, she’ll give you the most high quality silken kimono on the market.

Daki will appreciate your gifts though. She’ll boast it to her brother about it, priding herself in the fact that you gifted her something. You thought about her while you choose the gift! It just makes her very happy.

Quality Time (intensity 10/10)

Daki likes spending time with you. Gyutaro barely comes out of her anymore, so she really appreciates you hanging out with her. You two gossip about the other oirans from the other brothels while Daki paints your nails, or she does your hair while she rants about Muzan and the other Upper Moons. Sometimes Gyutaro joins in, and you two do his make up. He doesn’t like it, put he puts up with it. Since Daki likes you so much, he will tolerate you.

“Those nails look so pretty on you! Not as pretty as on me, but you get it. Oh, oh! How about we do onii-chan’s next?”

💠

I added Daki as a platonic bonus. Hope you guys enjoyed!

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!

Take care of yourselves <3

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fatkish · 6 months ago

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Alpha Tengen+Wives x Omega Reader

Pt. 2 NSFW

During your time in the entertainment district, you and Tengen got along and bonded. He told you about his past to which you comforted him, telling him that his family’s deaths weren’t his fault and he shouldn’t blame himself

Whilst you guys were talking, Tengen decided to pop the question and ask if you were interested in becoming his 4th mate

You told him you would think on it

During the battle in the entertainment district, you managed to save Tengen’s hand but not his eye

You got hurt quite a bit during that battle but nothing that was life threatening

After seeing him in action and getting to know him well, you decided you wanted more time with him

So you left the battlefield and went home with him and his wives

His wives were extremely receptive to having you stay with them again. Suma begged you to make a giant communal nest for everyone to snuggle in, and you agreed

Then things started to get serious

After you and Tengen were healed up, you knew you were about to go into your heat. Tengen could tell and he decided that he would allow you to chain him down if needed, if you didn’t want to have sex during your heat. But you talked it over with him and decided that you felt safe enough with him

To say Tengen was excited and happy was an understatement. He was so happy that you felt safe enough with him to allow him to take care of you when you were at your most vulnerable

When your heat hit, Tengen was there servicing you and giving himself to you entirely. When he wasn’t having you sit on his face with his fingers and tongue buried deep inside of you, he was stuffing you with his cock, pounding away at your insides

Tengen would alternate between eating you out, letting you rest, fucking your brains out, letting you rest, then rinse and repeat

Tengen is mad skilled with his fingers, you can’t tell me anything different. It would take him less than 2 minutes to finger you into an orgasm

While Tengen helped you through your heat, his wives cooked your guys’s meals and brought you guys whatever you needed

Eventually your heat ended and you both returned to the communal nest to snuggle with his wives

After spending your heat with Tengen, you decided to make it official and you told him you accepted him as your mate

That night Tengen celebrated with you and his wives. Promising to be the best mate ever and to give you lots of children

When it comes to pleasuring his many mates, have no fear, the man has got stamina and isn’t ashamed to let you use him

While someone rides his cock, two of you can use his hands while the fourth rides his face. He’s more than happy to please

When it came time for Tengen’s rut, you were stuck with him and suffered orgasm after endless orgasm. His wives helped by substituting for you when you couldn’t take anymore

This man is tall, so his cock measures at about 9 inches in length and 2 inches in girth. His knot is 3 and a half inches wide. He’s got some thick veins and the head is a pretty pink

While he’s more than happy to dish out, he’s more than happy to receive. If you suck on his cock while he’s pleasuring his other mates, he’ll groan and growl, and if you play with his balls then he’ll snarl as he cums

Eventually you decided to retire to which, Kagaya was actually happy about since he didn’t want you to die before experiencing what life had to offer

When Tengen heard, he decided it was time to settle down and start a family. Well, he gave you 7 children. This man has some potent baby batter. 2 sets of twins, 1 batch of triplets

Suma was so excited at the news of your first pregnancy, she kept bawling her eyes out and hugging you

Makio was excited too but kept her composure. She simply congratulated you

Hinatsuru had started making baby clothes and getting things ready for the babies, she too was excited but decided to use her excitement to get things done

Tengen was so happy to hear the news he immediately picked you up and spun you around before bringing you in for a hug

You weren’t allowed to do anything while pregnant. No cooking, Makio, Suma and Hinatsuru took care of it. No cleaning, the girls are on it. If you tried to do anything, Tengen would pick you up and carry you back to your nest

You were only allowed to do low energy things like sewing or knitting baby clothes

Eventually you would give birth and everyone got to pick a name for at least one kid

Tengen is an excellent dad, he plays with his kids and even lets his daughters dress him up and he even does their makeup

Everyone takes turns with the babies. If the baby cries, don’t worry, cause everyone takes nights in shifts so everyone can get their rest

If you suffer from postpartum, don’t worry, Tengen and his wives will take care of you and the babies, after all, it’s the least they can do after you’ve given them a family

All in all, the Uzui household is hectic and filled with chaos, but it’s full of love too

Tag list: @imagineshazamlokimight

#demon slayer a/b/o #demon slayer tengen #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #kny tengen #tengen x wives x reader #tengen x reader #tengen uzui

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nemo-writes · 3 months ago

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⋆˚࿔ ⋆˚࿔ 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐞 ; 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝜗𝜚˚⋆𝜗𝜚˚⋆

↣ pack!tf141 x witch!reader

↣ chapter summary; a new face arrives in town, and everything begins to shift. something is terribly wrong strange, but no one is talking.

⚠️ warnings; none

★ next

☆ story masterlist

As the first light of dawn filtered through the windows of the apothecary, you buzzed around, busy with substituting half-way empty jars with new ones full of elixirs and various herbs. The heavy scent of sage hung in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of brewing potions bubbling in the cauldron nestled in the corner. With a flick of your wrist, you lit the candles scattered around the shop, their soft glow casting long but warm shadows around the shop.

Your familiar Sybil, a snow white Borzoi, twitched from her spot under the counter, slightly raising her head in attention. Not a second later, the bell above the door chimed with your first client of the day.

“Well, well, still up with the dawn, I see.” The deep, raspy voice was unmistakable.

Alex stepped into the apothecary with his usual long strides, his dark blonde hair a touch wilder than you remembered.

“And you're still sneaking around at sunrise," you teased lightly. “Here for Farah’s order? I was just about to pour a fresh batch.”

“Yeah,” he replied, as he handed you his usual green thermos for the refill. “She’s been feeling… well, she’s hanging in there. Just a bit more tired lately.”

You hummed knowingly, tightening your apron and moving to get the order ready.

“Have you heard?”

“About?” You replied absentmindedly, focused on getting the exact quantity of steaming liquid into the thermos.

“The new girl that Laswell took in.”

That made you pause and turn to look at him.

Laswell was a witch like you, and a deeply influential one at that. That made her difficult to approach, but even harder to earn her trust. It had taken you a year of back and forth before she allowed you to set up shop in this part of the city. So to say that you were slightly intrigued was an understatement.

“Who now?”

He snorted, stretching over the counter to wriggle his fingers down at Sybil, and who in response raised her large snot to meet them in greeting.

“Apparently a few nights ago Ghost saved this rando girl from the Rose District―”

“What the hell was she doing in the Rose District?”

“Well clearly she’s not from around here.” He retorted, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, which clearly wasn’t. Even people from out of town knew to stay away from that place, especially at night. She was either from another country altogether or really, really, dumb.

“Anyways, he took her to Laswell and she offered her a job on the spot. She even let her settle in the loft above her bar and all.”

“Well, that’s….unexpected? But good for her I guess.”

“But wanna hear the best part?” Shrugging you rang him up, throwing in a few stray herbs in a satin pouch as an extra for his wife.

“She’s magicless, and a total smokeshow.” He was clearly trying to get a rise out of you, and honestly, he was successful. Rolling your cleaning rag tightly, you snapped it against his hand. He yelped in surprise, cradling his hands with mock-indignation.

“Anything else?” He shook his head and dropped the exact amount for the order into the ornate dish you kept beside the register.

“You’re no fun,” he pouted, stashing the flash into his bag before pointing at the satin bag. “What’s this?”

“They should help with Farah’s morning sickness. Just mix them in with her morning tea, a dash of honey will help with the bitterness.”

He gave you a wide boyish grin. “You’re the best, you know that?”

Waving him off and as if telling him ‘oh I know’, you watched him leave with a spring to his step, clearly eager to go back to his wife. You waited for him to disappear from sight, before reaching for your phone in your apron’s pocket.

9:15 am

you: hi

you: everything k? alex told me about the rose district

9:17

👻: 👍🏻

9:18

you: lmk if u need anything

you: btw your order’s ready, you can drop by anytime

you: sybil says hi

(picture attached)

You didn’t get a reply right away, which was strange, but not uncommon for the half-wraith. In the end, he always got back to you. Telling Sybil to stay put and care for the storefront, you moved to the back to organise the rest of the day’s orders.

Once upon a time, Ghost’s go-to place had gone out of business (he had personally taken it down after discovering it was a front for a fairy trafficking ring), and as per Laswell’s recommendations, he had appeared one day to commission you with a list of potions and ingredients, each tailored to his pack’s specific needs. He gave you three days, and you had gone above and beyond to deliver.

You knew you had succeeded in meeting their expectations after he came back the following month with a much bigger and more detailed list in hand. And it was through his monthly visit that you got to know the rest of the pack.

Simon took care of pickups and never stayed long, but long enough to listen to you rant about lousy customers, all while answering to Sybil's demands for pets.

You never got much done with Johnny around, but his charm definitely helped you with sales, especially with the older gnome ladies. The werewolf also played tug with your familiar when the shop became notably busy and you couldn’t take Sybil for her daily walkies.

As the only son of a witch, Kyle liked to help you with just about everything. He especially enjoyed peering over your shoulder whenever you delved into one of your many experiments, smiling like a child whenever you asked for his opinion.

You got to know John last, a human Hunter and their de facto leader. He never dropped by, but whenever you encountered him outside your shop, he never failed to greet you with a warm smile and ever warmer shoulder-squeeze. The older man also was a worrywart to his core, always asking about you and Sybil, as in have you had breakfast/lunch/dinner yet? Did you get your windows insulated for the winter? He can take care of it for you, and oh he got a good bargain on some chicken, let him share some of it with you.

Slowly but surely, they each had wormed itself into your stiff-witchy heart.

10:30

👻: can’t today

👻: sendin’ alejandro

The curt answer made you falter, a mix of disillusion and confusion settling heavily on the pit of your stomach. His lack of response to Sybil's picture was also worrying, that never happened. You struggled not to push him for an explanation.

And so, you waited.

Alejandro made his appearance a few hours later. Again, you left Sybil in charge while you greeted him and his partner, Rudy.

“Preciosa, it’s good to see you.” Alejandro enveloped you in a tight hug and kissed you on the cheek, Rudy following right after.

You returned their greeting just as warmly, guiding them to the back and to the crates stacked neatly and ready for them to take. You watched them work, swaying a little from side to side, before finally mustering up the courage to ask them about Ghost’s unusual absence.

“Is Ghost okay?”

Alejandro grunted as he loaded the crates into the trunk, hand falling over his hips before he turned to regard you with a raised eyebrow. “Yeah he’s fine, por (why)?”

You shoved your hands deep into your apron’s pockets, a nervous habit. “He has never missed a pickup, and he’s not answering my texts.”

“Oh, it’s probably that girl.” He acknowledged dismissively. As if sensing your dismay at Alejandro’s lacklustre response, Rudy chimed in.

“Leah, the new girl working for Laswell.”

Making the most of his receptiveness, you prodded Rudy for more details. “Have you met her?”

He shook his head, tilting his chin towards his partner. “Nope, but Ale has.”

“Well she’s cute, in a mousy kind of way.” He supplied while scratching his chin, and something about his pensive gesture told you that he still hadn't exactly made up his mind about her.

They were quick to leave however, busy with their own things, plus having to drop off the pack’s order. You watched them go, fingers twisting and turning

Yes, hopefully this strange episode would pass.

. . .

Things did not pass, if anything, they only got worrisomely stranger.

A few days later, you found yourself in the supermarket. It was just another part of your routine that you usually enjoyed. You reached for a jar of honey, when you felt it—a shift in the air, a tingle at the back of your neck. Straightening, you allowed your gaze to wander, searching for the source.

And then you saw him.

He stood a few feet away, staring intently at a shelf of cereals. Your heart skipped a beat, not from surprise but from the pleasant flutter you always felt when you saw him. You instinctively moved closer, a full smile already settled on your lips.

“Johnny, hi!”

His head jerked up as if startled, eyes widening when they met yours. For a moment, he looked at you with a strange mix of confusion and surprise, as if he barely recognized you.

“Och aye! Hello there! Whit ye daein' here?"

“Uh, I always shop here on Sundays?” But you know that, you’ve come with me more than once!

"Oh, dae ye no? Well, anyways!” Johnny’s brows furrowed, and he blinked rapidly, like someone waking from a deep sleep. His gaze flickered away from your face and back to the rows of cereal “Whit dae ye think Leah would fancy the most?"

That caught you off guard, so much so that you couldn't give him a rightout answer.

Suddenly, a second figure came from around the corner. It was Gaz. He walked up to the two of you, but something was off.

“Mate, stop running off! We need to get back to—” Gaz blinked at you, as if seeing you for the first time. “Oh, hi?”

“Hi?” You parroted back with an incredulous guffaw.

You just stood there, feeling an unfamiliar and uncomfortable sensation—like the ground beneath you had shifted and you were the only one who noticed. This wasn’t right. Your relationship had always been so easy, and filled with laughter. But now, it was like there was a barrier between you and them, unseen and unsettling.

“Is…everything okay?” You asked them, voice laced with a mix of worry and disbelief.

Gaz looked at you again, but there was no warm recognition in his eyes. “We’re fine,” he said, though his voice was flat. Then, without another word, he turned and walked away, Johnny following him like a shadow, a box of chocolate flavoured loops in hand.

He hated that kind, not even bending whenever Gaz tried to coax him into getting them as a treat.

You watched them disappear down the aisle, dumfounded. The vibrant hum of the grocery store around you flickered slightly as your mind whirled.

Taking a breath, you forced yourself to stay calm. You should head back to the apothecary and Sybil, maybe even check in with Laswell.

She’d know what to do, right? She always did.

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ruruvxz · 5 months ago

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Can you write like a really really loser minji with like uhh a teasing playful and mean flirting fem! reader basically like a baddie reader 😭😭😭 idk how to explain it man so the thing is I saw this dynamic thing like minji is the taller one but gets teased Reader is the shorter but teases minji!! Just some fluff no angst please 😔

“Apple Cider”

Nerd!Kim Minji x Mean!Reader

↳ synopsis: After being kicked out of a house party you found yourself wondering the streets with a pounding headache. It wasn’t all that bad when you suddenly came across a taller woman, and not letting this opportunity through your hands, you ask to get her a drink.

↳ cw: mentions on intoxication, drunken kiss, prudish reader, mentions of language, reader is an ex-f1 racer, pure fluff

↳ wc: 3k

a/n: I kinda wrote this as a prologue of “10:36” but don’t worry it’s all pure fluff and this is basically how you met Minji… anywayssss it was really difficult to write this as I kept having to redo it since I didn’t like all my other proofreads (and the fact I’m a tall girl myself…)

Stumbling over a traffic cone, your head thumped and pounded as you were suffering a major migraine, which added to your irritation as you were leaving the worst party of your life. Everything was beginning normally, you came early as usual to lend a helping hand to one of your mutual friends, watching the people pool into the cramped apartment. How everyone's shoulders collided as you all tried to fit into this tiny apartment made you more irritable.

It wasn't until someone poured a drink onto your already drunk state and began to berate you, that you finally took your leave. You bit your tongue, you didn't want to start anything so you swung your f1 academy jacket over your drenched shirt to cover the bright stain plastered all over and took your leave. Everything was so disorienting, walking through the crowded streets, you found yourself stumbling across the business district. You loathed this part because it reminded you of your impending doom of being a corpse slave, but at this point, you were too drunk to care.

All that lugging around trying to find a place to camp out wasn't making anything any better, your only saving grace was hauling your way to the nearest 7-Eleven. Thank the stars that you managed to wobble your way inside and pick up 2 bottles of apple cider, a drink you commonly drank to force your way back to sobriety. As you checked out your items you made yourself comfortable on a concrete diver and chugged the first drink down.

It was extremely sour, so you pushed yourself only to take small sips, whilst admiring the stars above you. A little ashamed that you got kicked out of a party so early on, usually leaving by 3 am, but it was only 9 pm. That was beside the point, as you felt your head stop thumping less and less, and finally, your headache dissolved completely. Sighing in relief, you looked at the spare bottle wondering how much of a waste of money it was to buy 2. Before you could return the bottle for some reward points or something along those lines, your ears picked up a large "Oomf".

Your eyes darted towards the noise as you saw a beautifully dressed woman, trip over a traffic cone, similarly to you. She was stunning, her long black hair falling softly onto her face, and with her tall stature, everything about her was so breathtaking. You even took notice of the dark eye-bags circulating under her gorgeous black eyes, she looked so fatigued it even made your partially sober state worry for her. You thought nothing more of her before she tripped once more dropping her glasses right in front of you.

Picking them up worriedly, you walked over to her and reached your hand up to pick her up. She looked up at you wide-eyed as you dragged her bag up, she immediately started apologizing as you handed her the glasses. Not realizing how tall her stature was until you stood right in front of her. As you examined her face closer as she pushed the glasses up from the bridge of her nose, she couldn't help but blush. You chuckle at her reaction a bit before speaking up.

"Are you alright? I just saw you trip on air right now..." You joked as the woman looked even more sorrowful, the idea of someone as dazzling as you watching her make a fool out of herself was humiliating. She grabbed her hand and rubbed her nape as you continued to laugh at her little accident, finally letting it all out she spoke up.

"I'm sorry. it's just I was so tired I couldn't see where I was going." She responded continuing to run the back of her neck while looking down at your smiling face. She wasn't lying though, after a long 3-hour seminar about economic ethics, she was beyond exhausted, especially since this was being taken out of her weekend.

"Maybe it's true, tall people don't have balance." You laughed at her, a part of you still a little drunken as you giggled at her antics before speaking up once more. "I've got some spare apple... drink, I uh, drink it if I want to energize myself— here take it, it's not like I was gonna drink it anyways." You insisted as you handed her the drink forcefully, her response being to weakly snatch it from your hands.

The drink was still cold and she had no problem drinking it, especially since a strikingly young woman, probably the same as her, was offering it to her. Usually, if it was anyone else the black-haired woman would've meekly declined their offer and moved on with her day, but you were different somehow.

As she cracked the cap off, she took a huge swig before coughing out from the sour taste, her eyes bugging out differently that tasted from her expectation. She looked at the bottle's wrapping as it neatly read "Natural Apple Cider", it wasn't bad but it was most definitely surprising. However, the way she spat out everything made you laugh hysterically even more.

"Hahaha, I'm so— hah... I'm so sorry, it's Apple cider." You laughed as she stared at the bottle for a little bit longer and then pried her eyes back to you as you chuckled loudly. "You looked so hilarious! I can't—" You continue laughing at her before gaining your composure once more, "I'm Y/N, sorry about that."

"Wow, uhm..." She was bewildered at your carefree attitude after practically just meeting her, but she laughed with you, your laugh was far too intoxicating. "I'm Kim Minji." She responded as she pushed a hair behind her ear before reaching out her hand to shake yours. You quickly do so as you ogle her height.

"I'll just call you... Tall girl!" Minji was dumbfounded by the nickname, which wasn't much of a nickname as it was just a plain-out observation. She looked around then back at you confused why you sounded so sure about that name.

"Now come on tall girl, let me get you an actual drink as an apology." You beamed as you offered her an actual drink, it wasn't even an offer actually, more of a subtle demand under the pretext of this being a sweet gesture. Minji, who was so hooked, just agreed while you dragged her by the hand and led her to one of your all-time favorite jazz bars. She couldn't help but chuckle at the circumstances she was facing at this moment, a shorter woman she had no prior knowledge about was offering to get her a drink.

As the both of you pushed through the crowded streets of drunkards and other ripped folks, you would mumble incoherent words that she would only understand bits and pieces. Minji would question why you kept mentioning some party and you'd scowl at her wondering why she wasn't listening, how could she? You were practically slurring your words every single sentence? But oddly enough, she found it so endearing whenever you would laugh it off. She was also still surprised how you could be so clearheaded and strut around in such a stunning outfit while not being the most sober person. Everything about you from your face to your minute details made her heart beat out of her chest.

You didn't notice how her hand tightened just a little bit, while she thought of the idea of you leaving her. Even for this midnight, she'd like to give this thing a try. As you headed inside the jazz club, you indicated sitting near the bar top. Minji, who wasn't a big drinker, (actually didn't drink at all before this situation) was a bit hesitant at first but she swallowed her fears and sat down right beside you. You ordered 2 amber ale beers and the bartender delivered, the drinks decorated with a frothy top as you took a large swig. Minji was stunned at the fact you could just coldly drink the bitter drink without any hesitation, making her believe it wasn't all that bad.

She lifted the drink to her lips, the froth coating attaching itself to her philtrum, as she took a short sip before abruptly sitting it out with a cough. It took you by surprise as she continued to cough out her drink, you patted her back to relieve her, thinking she might just be choking. As you leaned into her to make sure the taller woman was okay, your nose picked up her delicious scent of fruit punch. "Oh my! Are you okay?—Woah you smell nice, but are you good?" You repeated yourself as Minji came down from her coughing spree. As she lifted her head back up to look at you, her cheeks flushed red, not wanting to admit that this was probably the first drink she'd ever had in her life. She flailed her hand around trying to indicate she was fine as she continued to let out hiccuped coughs.

It took you a few moments as you dissected her reaction before connecting the dots, ah, this was the first time she'd ever tried beer, a trashy one at that. "Oh. Is this your first time trying amber ale?" You questioned, she looked even more flushed as she hid her face with her palms, pretty much summing up your theory, you didn't expect that, after all, she looked like she was your age. Even entering the bar she showed the bouncer her ID and everything was checked out, so how could this possibly be her first-ever drink? As questions pilled up in your mind you couldn't help but let out a loud laugh, catching the attention of a few fellow jazz enthusiasts who were just trying to enjoy the music. Paying no mind to the glares of middle-aged men who had nothing to do but "appreciate" the gentle hums of the musicians, you spoke up a little too loud making Minji a tad bit more embarrassed.

"Your kidding! There's no way this..." You laughed, raising the drink higher up to give her a look before slamming it down on the counter. "...This shit! Is your first drink, tall girl." She sighed as you continued to tease her on the fact, before letting out a very long exasperated sigh whilst taking another sip of the drink. Minji wasn't in the mood to deal with you— a complete stranger— remarks on her visible lack of alcoholism. Truth be told, she hated people who drank since it would always lead to confrontation or messy tears, and she wanted no part of that. The fact that anyone would order an alcoholic beverage on her behalf would've made her scoff in disapproval before sending the drink back, but for some particular reason, she wanted to impress the alluring girl right next to her.

"D-Don't call me that, besides, it isn't," Minji said, trying her best to convince the girl next to her that she was much more bold than she was, despite coughing up her drink. "I was just, uhm, surprised that's all!" Was all she could muster up as you continued to laugh your ass off, you should've probably asked her if she drank or not before dragging her to your favorite Jazz Club, but you were paying for her drink, so really, was it your fault.

As the night went on, you both mutually started to order more and more drinks, as the clock struck 2am, you finally decided to wrap up this get-together and head home. It was kind of refreshing meeting someone new though, in the span of 5 hours, you learned more about her than you knew about your closest friends. Of course, not by your own will as it was her turn to babble her head off, she talked way too much about trivial topics she was into you found your migraine resurge for a bit. Things like her favorite romance novels or manhwa titles and synopses that you could care less about were all engraved into your memory, after all for some reason you couldn't take your eyes off of her. But eventually, everything has to come to an end...

That is what you would've said if she wasn't practically clung onto your arm with her head resting on your head as she loomed over your quite tiny build. If you knew she was a lightweight you probably wouldn't have encouraged her to have more drinks than she could handle, especially since you had to pay for each and every one she got. More than that, you wouldn't have agreed under the pretense that you had to drag this not-so-complete stranger back to her apartment. She was quite heavy as she was pressing all her body weight onto you as you searched and probed for directions to her apartment, her words slurred and giggly as you finally found her residence.

It was quite elegant as she lived in the well-off areas of the city, it made you jealous at the thought of anyone ever living so extravagantly, but it was better than having to drag her up the stairs if she lived in an apartment complex like yours. You fished the wallet out of Minji's back pocket to grab her complex's card key and unlocked the elevator for the both of you. As you hauled her into her apartment, you took in the view, everything was so dimly lit and the only light was being emitted by the city's scrappers and other colossal-sized buildings.

You chucked her onto her leather couch as she spewed more nonsense about her economic homework before finally taking a breather on the couch. She was adorable but you're too prideful to admit that to her face, you decided to just grab some water and sober her up a bit before heading back to your place with your roommate. Walking over to her, you handed her the glass of water before carefully monitoring her like a child, making sure she didn't choke. As she sat up, she swallowed the water in one goofy gulp.

"Hey now, don't drink it like that you might choke like last time, tall girl." You chuckle as she looks up at your standing posture with a pout, fixing the hem of your shirt you prepare yourself for your leave. Turning back from her gaze she weakly and fairly loosely grabbed onto your wrist with a hushed plea. "Please stay, Y/N..." Her voice filled with longing as she croaked out, making your heart soften at her state. You let out a playful scoff before taking a seat on the couch right next to her, Minji's eyes lighting up as you do so. She looked like a total lovesick geek right now, but you found her so endearing as you both sat in silence, taking short glances at one another.

"Your hair, it's really nice Y/N, can I uhm, please touch it." She spoke as you nodded softly, letting her delicate fingers stroke the back of your head, feeling your hair strand by strand under her palm. As she continued she looked more and more entranced by how truly gorgeous you were, her breath hitched once she stopped, leaning down to rest your head on her thighs. If it weren't for how dark her apartment was, you probably could've seen her cheeks radiating red, as her blush plastered her whole face. The way you looked so, unbothered, made her heart sink even further, she had never felt this way about anyone, mainly since she's usually cooped up in her apartment, avoiding any contact with anyone other than her close friends.

Resting your head gently on top of her, Minji's eyes wandered around your whole body, taking in the sight that was in front of her. Her eyes landed on your scarlet leather race jacket, it was tailored perfectly for you, she let out a nerdy smile as she looked at all the patches that decorated your jacket. "That jacket... it's really cool, I like it."

"Than I shall wear it more often." You responded, reaching your hand out and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, your knuckles softly caressing her heated cheeks. Despite how much you hated being reminded of your past as a failed driver who was promptly kicked off the grid, her words soothed you enough to encourage you to wear it more often. Looking back at the party that happened, you were glad it didn't work out since it meant that you met her.

You both sat in silence after your little comment as she only let out a snort, her face still burning red as you laid on her. "Hey, do you mind if I sleep over?" You asked, and she nodded responding with a quiet, "Sleep as long as you want."

"Great, I don't have anywhere to stay." You lied through your teeth, not wanting to go back home and stay by her side.

"Hey Y/N, do you like me?" Minji asked boldly, still clearly stuck in her drunken state.

"Yeah, but not that much, Tall girl." You teased as you brought your hand back up and pulled her down to your level, your noses inches apart, threatening to touch. "How about you?"

"I like you a lot..." She drifted off, her answer in part to the fact she was quite dazed, before continuing she leaned closer to you. "But not that much."

You laughed once more as you cupped her face, gently pushing her face closer, interlocking your lips together as you kissed, her face was hot, steaming almost as you released her hands from her face. "You look so out of it, come on', I'll go buy you some apple cider to sober you up."

"I prefer fruit punch, actually!"

"Then let's drink both."

#idol x female reader #idol x reader #newjeans imagines #newjeans x reader #female reader #gxg #Kim Minji #Minji x reader #Kim Minji x reader #Kim Minji x female reader #minji imagines #girl group imagines #I love fluff #GRAAHHH WE BOTH LIKE APPLE CIDER #not my proudest work ngl

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solecize · 11 months ago

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄 | 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. every summer on your grandpa's farm was real-life magic to your younger self, who left a piece of her heart in amber valley when the years went on and the town became nothing but a faint childhood memory. soon enough, you become rocked by his death and realize the dead end in your bustling city world. this leads to you making an abrupt decision.

despite knowing nothing but designer purses and the corporate ladder, you uproot your entire life to take over your grandfather's old farm in the town you were desperately trying to remember - alongside a familiar face from your youth that permanently finds his way into your heart. 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. jungkook x reader 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. swearing 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. 5k 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒. inspired heavily by stardew valley, friends to lovers, childhood friends, small town alternate universe, slice of life, grief, growing up.

part one: the storm, the envelope and the granddaughter ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ next. masterlist

i. the storm

for the first time in a long time, your eyes flutter open to the golden curtains of the sun and not the blaring noise of a royalty-free iphone alarm. the rays are harsh and welcoming all at once, as you blink away the stinging sensation and adjust to the muddy path ahead. there was no mistake about it, the town withstood an unforgiving storm last night. however, mud coating the wheels of your bus seemed to be the only indication, as you became distracted with the kiss of summer from the skies above and the clear cerulean painted across cotton candy clouds.

memories of amber valley became bygone over the years, as memories always do. but, amber valley seemed to be a long lost chase you haven’t won in years and the older you became, the town disappeared entirely. it was like the smell of your favourite scented markers and the feeling rumbling at the pit of your stomach on the first day of school - nothing but faint ideas from your childhood.

“we’re not going to visit grandpa this summer?”

at age twelve, you couldn’t fathom missing out on the midsummer festival or being away from your horse, marshmallow. for that age, absolutely everything felt like the end of the world, whether it was missing an episode of your favourite show or not getting an invite to a classmate’s sleepover. it was a little different for you, though, as you looked at your dad’s dull eyes. they’d been dull since the divorce went through that february. they never shone since and that’s how you knew things weren’t going to be the same.

he shook his head at you, but never met your eyes. “no, i’m sorry. he’s coming up for to the city at the end of july, though - “ it would be later in life, precisely at age 25 and months removed from your grandfather’s funeral, when you would learn that he only began coming up to the city to regularly see a hepatologist, “ - so you can see him on your birthday.”

you did, in fact, see grandpa for your birthday and for the rest of the years to come. he laughed with his whole body and his smile never failed to reach his eyes when he gave you updates on the farm and amber valley. grandpa did his best, but time passing came with you losing your bright eyes whenever he spoke fondly of his town. it was inevitable, when the big city enveloped your teenage self and you became more concerned with interests that come with the turn of youth - clothes, parties and boys.

now, there was absolutely nothing wrong with any of those ideas. you stood by this at heart, embracing femininity and defending it alongside your love for science and life. you grew up and began wearing high heels to dates, to university lectures and finally, to your 9-5 on the busiest corner of your city’s financial district. you had long outgrown your riding boots, likely tucked away at the back of your closet in your studio apartment. you began just politely smiling and nodding when your grandfather shared local amber valley gossip about individuals who were just names to you now, also tucked away at the back of your mind.

even though you eventually grew past the age where you needed your parents’ permission to make the trek over to amber valley, past the period of time where your mother refused to speak to your father to coordinate your trip to see your grandfather, the idea of returning to the valley never crossed your mind. like summer camp, it was something you thought you didn’t need anymore and preferred spending your school-less months with your friends in your hometown, working away at your first part-time job and getting your first ever drivers’ license. a seventeen year old city girl wouldn’t want to waste her summer at her grandfather’s old farm.

“mrs. oh’s husband just left the valley for his deployment overseas. may god watch over that family.” it was one of the last times you saw grandpa, late on christmas eve when everyone else went to bed. your mom, her new husband and your little sister had bade their goodnight’s by 10pm and left the two of you sipping honey lemon tea by the fireplace.

your mom’s new husband made a lot of money. that was one of the first things you noticed about him and it was so different from the two bedroom inner city apartment you were raised in. it was certainly different from your grandpa’s farmhouse, where the television only got three channels and all of the windows never fully opened because they would fall apart entirely if you pulled too far. you and your grandpa mused these thoughts on their white leather couch, when the conversation slowly moved back to how the old farm was going.

you tried to sound interested. “oh really?” the reality was you couldn’t remember if the oh family was the one that ran the general store or the one couple who seemed to be constantly fighting, on the verge of divorce.

grandpa grunted in response. “mhm. thankfully, they have jungkook helping out around the store. ah, the wasted potential with that boy, but such a kind heart.”

“jungkook..?”

“oh, you remember him! the two of you would always bike by the beach,” he said. “i’ll never forget, you two would always come back and show me the seashells you collected that day. always made a competition out of everything.”

he chuckled and you joined in, hiding the despondence for being unable to recall. grandpa didn’t seem to notice, though, continuing to discuss amber valley. cranberries and pumpkins were the strongest crops of the fall, mayor kim was re-elected for a third time and something about the town soon getting their first chain convenience store since amber valley’s founding. then, grandpa’s face lost his smile and a serious expression formed on his ageing features. he asked you about your job and how life was for you.

by now, you’re 22 and working an entry-level position with nothing but a bachelor’s in your pocket and a hunger to climb the corporate ranks. like any fresh college graduate, there was no meaning to life if it weren’t for paying overpriced rent, mimosa sundays, dating apps, and maybe remembering to go to the gym every now and then. the life you lived was loud from city traffic and heavy from looming student debt.

“my job is..okay. i’m just starting out and i’m really just trying to do my best,” you replied.

grandpa, still with a serious look, placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. “it gets stressful, doesn’t it?”

you opened your mouth to respond again, but failed to find your voice this time. your stress was found in a growing caffeine addiction and getting too tired to give your parents a call on the weekends. adulthood was everything you expected and nothing you expected. you secured a job that you dedicated four years of studies to and just like that, was pushed into a world of hustle and bustle and nothing in between. once this realization settled, you tried to hide it by cracking a faint smile. grandpa saw through it, though - he always did.

“well, darling, if it ever does get too stressful..” you became confused when grandpa reached into his back pocket and pulled out a sealed envelope. he handed it to you and you turned it over, finding no writing other than your name in your grandfather’s decorative penmanship.

you asked, “what is this, grandpa?”

he finally smiled again, but shook his head. “a gift. it’s yours for when you find that you need a break from the challenges of life.”

grandpa only gave gifts from the heart. only, this time, you wouldn’t know that he was giving you his entire heart and soul. you had taken this envelope and slid it in the drawer of your desk at home, where you tirelessly worked after hours, even after returning from the office. it was hidden away, but always poked your curiosity at the back of your mind. however, you restrained from opening it, even when it eventually became one of the last things you had from grandpa.

ii. the envelope

the only time you took the pristine envelope out of your desk was on the day of his funeral.

it was no surprise that grandpa wanted to be buried in amber valley, his home for over fifty years and his birthplace. it was once your heart’s home, too, once upon a time when you were a child skipping rocks by the town river and rode your horse through mustard-hued sunflower fields. for that, you were nervous to return and confront the realities of your coming of age in the face of a town that only lived in your memories, sickeningly reminding you of the years that have gone past.

wedged between your mother and father who had only began speaking to one another as of three years ago, you stared blankly at the onyx coffin that, in about 20 seconds, was gone from your sight and lowered into the ground. it happened all too quick. you clenched your arm tighter, squeezing the envelope tucked underneath and protecting it from the rain. your very last summer in the valley was marked by constant rain and wind and once again, you greet the town amidst storms.

the drive was quick, having gone directly to service after the three hour drive from the city. you couldn’t make much of the town through the gloom and suddenly, the valley was so much colder than you remember. like your being since your grandfather’s passing, it lost its colour. it was unwelcoming and felt like a punishment for your neglect over the years. amber valley was unforgiving as much as it was perfection.

you couldn’t make out much of the attendees through the gloom, either. many of them appeared absolutely devastated, sobbing and cold-faced at the goodbye of a beloved neighbour. your grandfather was always well-liked amongst the townspeople, helping out his friends with mundane tasks whenever he had free time away from the farm and shared his warm personality at community events. this was affirmed through the stories that were shared about him at the service, recognizable for his distinct good heart, but seemed so far away for you, having detached yourself from amber valley.

“oh, an unfamiliar face! what’s your name, dear?” a man around your father’s age with salt and pepper hair was handing out hor d'oeuvres at the post-service gathering in the church basement. he seemed to be the most upbeat one in the room - though, it wasn’t saying much, considering the occasion.

you told him your name, while looking around for either one of your parents. being in a room of strangers wasn’t your favourite activity, especially following a funeral. the last thing you wanted to do was socialize, feeling like you weren’t even in your own body all day. while you were saddened and to an extent, numb, you knew your grandfather’s passing was coming up. his illness was going to catch up to him and you spent months mentally preparing yourself for the day you would have to say goodbye. despite not being surprised, your grief was accompanied by the painful nostalgia of the town that raised you in the summertime.

the man looked at you, appearing to search your face for something. “you’re the old man’s granddaughter? bunny?”

the nickname almost made you flinch, having not heard it in so long that you were surprised you recognized it. you began searching the man’s face, too, also looking for some signs of familiarity. for so many years of your childhood, you were almost exclusively called this nickname by adults and friends alike.

there wasn’t room for a response when the man pulled over another individual by his sleeve, merely attempting to walk by in peace. this one was a man closer to your age and you were too distracted by the glisten of his facial piercings to scan for recognition. the second thing you noticed the adornment of tattoos peeked from below his sleeve and trailed onto his hands. the third and final thing you noticed about him was how gentle his hands were. this was realized because the sight of this man made you drop whatever was in your own hands in surprise.

the only thing you were holding was your grandfather’s envelope, no longer pristine and stained with a few raindrops. you noticed that you had been clutching onto this keepsake the entire service. you bent down to reach for it, when he also attempted to make the save for you. your hands brushed and you looked up at his eyes, suddenly taken away by confusion.

“jungkook, you remember bunny?”

you forgot the older man was in your presence, as he was the one who pulled jungkook over in the first place. jungkook. this was the little boy you spent hours running around with all those years ago. although you seemed to forget when your grandfather had last brought him up, those moments began to rain down on you upon taking sight of him for the first time in years. you had barely looked, but it hit you.

jungkook handed the envelope over to you and you cleared your throat, standing up properly and trying not to wobble on your favourite high heels. he also stood up and seemed to mirror your confusion, not understanding who was the person in front of him. you muttered a thank you and fixed an imaginary snag on your cardigan.

“i just go by my first name now,” you said through a tight smile to both men, still feeling like your gut was punched in after hearing the nickname that your grandpa coined,

“oh, of course. you’re all grown up now!” the man exclaimed. “do you remember me? mr. kim?”

the truth was that you didn’t remember him by face, but instead remembered that your father mentioned a man of this name being the mayor. if he was the same person, mr. kim’s father was the previous town mayor, as well, and was your grandfather’s best friend before his own untimely passing. given his larger than life presence, it was same to assume that the man in front of you was the tiny valley’s politician.

“mayor kim, of course.” you hoped you sounded convincing.

jungkook was still standing to the side, the same confused look etched on his face. “you’re the girl that tricked me into eating mud that one time?” he blurted, as if an imaginary lightblub flashed above his head

that took you by surprise and you almost snorted. “i didn’t trick you, you just went for it.” the quick snap back also took you by surprise, having left behind a bit of your normal self in the city before coming down to the valley for the funeral, as well as your instant recollection.

somehow, this memory was clear as day and you could remember jungkook as a seven year old with a horrible bowl cut and missing teeth. you wore light-up sneakers and candy bracelets that day, sitting on the porch of your grandfather’s farmhouse with him and were exchanging dares to see who would give up first. maybe that was why your grandpa said you two were -

“ - always competitive,” jungkook said.

although the two of you surely shared countless more memories, it was this one that stood against the test of time and it showed when it immediately hit you with a laugh. it took jungkook a second, too, but he eventually gave in and joined with his own. you hadn’t realized it until his swollen eyes became crescents in his giggles, but he seemed to be having his own trouble of a day.

“there it is, jungkook! nice to see you finally cheer up a bit,” mayor kim encouraged and jungkook’s chuckle immediately fell back to a straight face, almost intentionally. you suspected that this was not the first time today that mayor kim was on his case.

before mayor kim could add on, his attention gravitated towards something at the other end of the room. he sighed and set down the hor d'oeuvres, checking the time on his wrist dressed with gold.

“oh, i’m being called over,” he sighed and turned back to you. “it was a pleasure seeing you again, i hope to see you around town before you have to go back to the city.”

swiftly, mayor kim weaved his way through the crowd and just like that, it was just you and jungkook.

you took this opportunity to give jungkook an actual once over, comparing it to the faint image you had of this man from when you were children. undeniably, he was handsome, but you were more concerned with the fact that this was still the little boy you spent your summers with. he grew into his face and you didn’t realize that you accidentally said this out loud.

jungkook looked as much taken aback as he was amused. “oh, you got jokes, huh? that’s what you learned growing up in the city?” he teased.

“i didn’t mean it like that - “ you started, but he waved you off with a laugh.

the conversation was a bit overwhelming, considering you were still stuck in a church basement following your grandfather’s funeral service and could not locate your parents anywhere. jungkook recognized this in your face and eased into a sympathetic smile. somehow, you felt okay enough around him to drop your tense shoulders for the first time that day.

“i’m sorry, i should be giving my condolences. your grandpa was a loved man by everyone here.”

looking around the room, it was clear. everyone had shared fond stories and were making toasts in his honour. you felt out of place, but more so because you felt like you should have been joining in with the attendees. instead of being a kind of extended family that once saw you grow up, these people were strangers. you weren’t sure if anyone recognized you, having tried to lay low and not draw any attention to yourself. the only times you seemed to have caught anyone’s eye was when you were sat beside your parents at the burial, but no one dared approach you then.

“you were like a son to him, too,” you offered. it was true, given the amount of time you spent with jungkook as a child, maybe even going so far to call him your best friend at one point.

he let out a long breath, eyes moving to the enlarged portrait of your grandfather propped up on the wall. “that’s nice of you to say. i miss him already. i’m sure you feel the same.”

you learned quickly that, in light of your disappearance from your grandfather’s farm over the years, jungkook was the one who began helping out and taking over what were your old chores. your grandfather was physically able, but he kept the young boy around for company and made feeding the chickens an excuse to have his presence. hearing this made your heart drop, feeling an unknown sense of regret that you didn’t know existed when it came to the farm.

“it’s not like that!” jungkook cut in, seeing the tears well up in your eyes. “he would always talk about the two of you going on adventures in the city and how he loved spending time with you whenever he came up to visit. he knew that’s where your heart was.”

you sniffled a bit, having already promised yourself to limit your breakdowns to two that day, and took a second to reel it in. “sorry…i don’t mean to - “ you sighed.

“it’s okay. it’s weird being back here, huh?”

it was weird. it was so damn weird that the air of amber valley stuck with you for the months following, like bubblegum in your hair and a melody on loop in your head. you couldn’t shake it. not when you were working an extra 20 hours overtime in a week, not when you became stuck in traffic everyday, and especially not when your boyfriend of three years dumped you because you “changed” so much since the start of the year.

and, it was true. you changed a lot since your conversation with your grandfather on christmas eve, with his words echoing about the stressors of life everyday. it opened your eyes to how much you were really struggling and it wasn’t simply you who had changed, but your outlook on life. ever since you were twelve years old, everything shifted to the fastlane and years breezed by you in the blink of an eye. everything moved so fast and you never got a chance to catch your breath. one moment, you were 15, sneaking a sip of your first ever drink, and the next, you were 24 and drinking straight out of the wine bottle on a tuesday evening. you wondered how you suddenly found yourself jaded at a 9-5 black hole of a job that sucked out your energy and passions.

these days made you think about what truly deserved your energy and what truly were your passions. did you like your everyday routine of gluing on false lashes and slipping on pantyhose? were you happy, alone in your apartment with not even a cat to talk to? your parents had their own worlds and new lives to deal with and long stopped asking why you never call. your friends were co-workers, having no time to meet anyone new. you didn’t even have time for hobbies, given how tired you were every time you finished work and the amount of overtime you did.

one thursday night, you arrived home from work at 10:13pm and decided you had enough. it was constraining, nearly strangling you with exhaustion everyday. you spent the entire day wondering was “it” was and when you kicked off your loafers by your doorstep, it hit you. this was what your grandfather was talking about.

almost walking with fear of what was to come, you creeped over to your desk. after your grandpa’s funeral, his envelope no longer lived underneath manila folders in your drawer, but found a place on the surface. you kept it there, as it mocked you every time you opened up your work laptop after hours. you didn’t realize why you left it in plain sight, until this moment when you came to terms with the fact that you were reminding yourself of him.

“if you’re reading this, you must be in dire need of change. the same thing happened to me, long ago. i’d lost sight of what mattered most in life. . . real connections with other people and nature. so i dropped everything and moved to the place where i truly belong.”

it took you precisely two weeks to pack up your things after opening the envelope. nobody could convince you not to. your mother complained that you were wasting your degree and your father had concerns about the massive role you were about to take on all by yourself. it didn’t matter.

two weeks later, you met amber valley and its sunlight for the first time in years, pretending that the storm ceased and the sun shone to welcome you back.

iii. the granddaughter

the sun faded quickly when you realized the bus dropped you off on a plain dirt road in the middle of nowhere. the movers took the rest of your belongings separately, so you were left with nothing but a duffel bag and a cell phone that couldn’t find any signal.

“oops,” was all you could say. you didn’t think it was a crazy idea, that there would be service at the very least.

it took you a few moments to let the situation settle in and for you to realize that you were abandoned in a place that was unfamiliar to you. was it unfamiliar? you looked around, seeing nothing but fields on fields and accepted that there was no way you could even try to remember where you were, even with the help of the maps app. you knew you made it to town, but you were certainly left at the farthest point of the borders.

and then, you heard it.

it was over at least ten years since you last rode, but your ears perked up at the sound of a horse’s gallop naturally. you had to squint, but it was unmistakable.

they were going in the other direction and they were going fast, so you had to think fast. you tried yelling and waving your arms, but quickly saw that it was useless. so, you dropped your bg and brought your hands to your mouth, releasing the loudest whistle that your vocal chords could handle.

the horse and its rider kept going and for a few seconds, you thought you lost hope. but, then, as you were about to pick up your bag in shame, you watched them take a wide turn back around. they were headed to you.

you waved your arms back and forth again, affirming that you needed their attention. as they came closer, you could make out a figure of a man with chestnut brown hair peeking out underneath his cowboy hat. he wore medium wash, stained jeans and a plain white t-shirt.

“that was the loudest whistle i’ve ever heard,” he hollered, drawing closer to you.

you shook your head bashfully. “didn’t even know i remembered how to do that.”

“pretty sure the whole town heard. my name is namjoon, are you visiting someone here?”

likely a few years older than you, you tried to recall someone named namjoon from your memories. his appearance didn’t ring a bell, so you were searching your brain for his name or if you heard it from somewhere.

you told him your name and then squinted at him, pausing for several moments before speaking again. “are you. . .joonie?”

his eyebrows shot up immediately, looking at you like he couldn’t understand what language you were speaking. “pardon me?”

joonie. he was mayor kim’s eldest son, who was sent to a fancy arts camp every summer when you were younger. you only met him a few times throughout the years, as he often arrived back the same week you were due to leave your grandpa to go back to your parents, but one feature stuck in your mind always. his dimples. you thought you recognized namjoon’s polite smile and piecing it together with his name seemed to be the key.

“i’m pretty sure you’re mayor kim’s kid. i’m bad with faces, but you’re joonie, aren’t you?” the confidence in your voice was fuelled by the fact that no one really left amber valley. it was the kind of place where families would raise their children with the kids they grew up with themselves.

namjoon seemed to still be calculating your appearance in his head when you heard the faint noise of galloping once again. the two of you looked over to see another person on a horse who was looking around the field, likely looking for namjoon. the man in question brought his hand to his mouth and released a whistle similar to yours - though, you did gloat silently because yours was, in fact, louder.

still, it was enough to get the person’s attention and they finally made eye contact with the two of you. they began approaching and you could make out that it was a man’s figure. still, even with how small of a town amber valley was, you were surprised to see who it was.

“jungkook!”

“namjoon, i just spent fucking 15 minutes looking for you - “

you tried to keep your expression neutral when you saw that it was actually jungkook on the horse. he wore an all-black outfit of cargo pants and a wife beater tank that exposed his tattooed arms. it made it hard to keep your expression the same.

“oh, hey. did you come to collect something from your grandpa’s property?” jungkook suddenly ignored his previous frustration at namjoon, cleared his throat and dropped his voice by an octave, in addition to cutting his voice’s volume by a cool half. he swiftly hopped off his horse, too cleanly to be casual.

namjoon’s confusion only doubled, darting eyes between the two of you. “sorry, have you guys met?” he didn’t miss the way that jungkook straightened his shoulders without even trying to be subtle.

you missed it, though, having cut away your stare to double check if your phone managed to get any signal. none. sighing, you shook your head at jungkook, as he began explaining to namjoon.

“ - we called her bunny. remember bunny?” he nudged towards you.

namjoon looked back at you again and concern formed. “you’re the granddaughter. oh, you were at the funeral - i’m sorry about your loss. your grandpa was such a great person.”

you put on the same tight smile every time someone mentioned him. the worst of the grief came back on some days, but you learned how to manage it day by day as time went on. jungkook watched you do so and cleared his throat.

“the old bus stop is the worst,” he interrupted, gesturing towards the tiny sign that indicated that it was in service. “people get lost all the time when they arrive. well, we don’t really have a lot of people visiting by bus - “

you couldn’t help but cut in. “i’m not visiting.”

the two men gave you and your single chanel duffel bag a blank stare and wondered if the idea was so hard to believe. it was for your parents, who both thought you caught them on some sort of prank show when you told them about grandpa’s envelope. you were wearing platform mary janes and a leather skirt in the dead of the june sun, so maybe they had a reason to be confused.

there was a moment of silence, so you decided to speak again. “yeah, i’m not visiting. um, i’ve decided to take over my grandfather’s farm. i’m moving to amber valley permanently.”

#jungkook au #jungkook fanfic #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagines #bts fanfic #kpop fanfic #bts imagines #jungkook x you #bts scenarios #jungkook series #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #bts series #jungkook reaction #*** / the farmhouse.

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miss-cincaide · 3 months ago

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Explain Yourself, Woman

Summary: It’s time to set up the Halloween decorations, and you’re excited about it. You’ve even agreed to let Yuji’s odd cousin, who’s just exited prison, help out. You could never phantom that Ryoumen Sukuna had no clue what Halloween was or why you’d put cobwebs in the ceiling.

Pairing: Fem! reader x Yuji Itadori; Fem! Reader x (ex-con) Sukuna Kinktober prompt 9: Non-con WC: 4.6K Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI! Non-con/dub-con, quickie, unprotected P in V, fingering, cursing, alcohol,

“I promise and swear on my life he will behave, please so pretty pretty, please? I am ready to do whatever!!”

You couldn’t see much of the pink-haired boy, except the back of his head with the newly trimmed black undercut and even fluffier pink hair, as he sat on his hands and knees in front of you, head pressed to his hands, forehead to the pavement in the most pitiful and submissive dogeza you had seen in your entire life. His whole body was in the middle of the street, with your shopping bags on either side of him, effectively blocking anyone from walking by you two in your residential area.

A cyclist passed by, repeatedly pinging his bell to get Yuji to move from the middle of the street. When Yuji didn’t, the cyclist drove out onto the main road at the last minute, flipping both of you off as he passed you by.

You felt your face flush slightly underneath your hands. The embarrassment of your best friend’s dogeza in the middle of a public street only amplified your overall embarrassment associated with that idiot. Your only salvation was that Yuji remembered his cousin when you were almost home and not in the middle of the packed shopping district.

Then, you were sure you would have died of embarrassment.

“Please?-” his voice grew louder, his tone more desperate, and if he could bury himself beneath the pavement to you, he most certainly would have.

You hated the emotion that stirred in the pit of your stomach. The gnawing, burning feeling that hated seeing Yuji beg for anything, especially in front of you. The side that wanted to give him whatever so he could return to his usual bright and bubbly self. “Well ye– I don’t know, Yuji” You caught yourself at the last minute before you could promise the world to your best friend and lover. “He’s.. you know, kinda scary.”

“I swear and promise Sukuna’ll be on his best behaviour,” he reassured you in a heartbeat.”You’re the only one, YN, who isn’t completely terrified of him or judges him for his mistakes. C’mon, this is his first Halloween out, and he is entirely alone? Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

Being alone on Halloween wasn’t a big deal unless you were an Itadori, which is worse than missing Christmas and Birthday combined. It was the celebration, the day to be with your friends and come up with mischief. The one day a year, you all were just goofy, carefree friends before life caught up to you.

The guilt tripping worked.

Groaning, you dropped your hands away from your face with a whiny “fiiine,” followed by a more serious, “You owe me big time, bud.”

“You’re the best!” Yuji scrambled to his feet in seconds, and bags gathered back into his hands. A beat of awkwardness was between you, an almost embarrassed silence which Yuji instantly broke with, “Last one to your door is the rotten egg making bento for tomorrow?”

You laughed, the tension disappearing. “ I want those awesome onigiri you make with the soft-boiled egg in the middle!” You declared only for Yuji to remind you that you hadn’t won yet.

But you may have. Your house was four blocks away, but yesterday, you found a lovely shortcut through a newly torn-down house that was just an empty, debris-filled lot, effectively cutting your getting home time in half. Even if Yuji were faster, he’d not anticipate you to take off down another route. So you’d win by taking him by surprise! So, You felt like you had this in your pocket as both of you got ready to sprint, just waiting for him to start you guys off.

“Also, Sukuna-will-be-here-tomorrow-to-help-set-everything-up!” And then Yuji took off running as if hell hounds were after him as you stood stunned, processing his words.

“Hey! That’s not what we agreed on!” You called after him, beginning to jog at a much slower pace, all forgotten about the shortcut, egg-filled onigiri or anything besides the fact that Sukuna would be on your doorstep tomorrow.

“Cheater!” You yelled after him into the empty street. Earning yourself a stink eye from the nosy neighbourhood watch lady, who was peeking up at you over the hedge of her fence. You gave her a wave before your jog turned into a slow walk after Yuji. He better not think you would make tonight's dinner and tomorrow's lunch after the stunt he pulled.

You mercilessly roped Yuji into making dinner that night, bento for the following day, and breakfast. He promised to do the week's shopping for you and be at your place the following morning.

However, at 10:30, there was still no sign of Yuji, who had promised breakfast or shopping. But there was a roar of a motorbike that disturbed your otherwise calm suburban neighbourhood area. The motorbike drew nearer and nearer, tearing you from your monotone ranting about Yuji to no one but yourself and the cobwebs you hung up. You stood atop a ladder in the hallway, slinging the fake tangly web from the room's corners to the hallway lamp in thick white ropes to which you’d tie giant spiders and tiny ghosts.

Another roar from the bike, as if announcing his arrival, before it stopped and grew silent outside your house- a relatively flat brick building three stories in height that held four apartment units on each floor. Something told you that noisy horror, the owner, was there for you.

Carefully, you climbed down the ladder. Your feet made contact with your hallway floor just as heavy pounding sounded on your front door. A pause, a literal half minute before the pounding repeated with such violence, you wondered how the entire thing didn’t fly off its hinges and hit you in the face.

“I’m coming”, You called as the door shook and the person on the other side kicked it. A second later, you unlocked it, coming face to face with Yuji’s lookalike. The resemblance was uncanny- the same pink hair with the black undercut, the same face shape and build and even similar clothes. Hell, you swore he smelled the same way Yuji did. The glaring difference, however, was the blank tattoos that littered the man’s face and neck and snaked under his casual clothes. “Y-yuji?”

“ Gahh, You think I’m that brat?”

Not Yuji, you concluded, as the man brushed past you into your apartment without even being welcomed in. You glared slightly as he didn’t kick his shoes off but rather strolled right in over your rugs and towards the living room, where he flopped down on the couch beside the boxes of Halloween decorations, one arm over the backseat. At the same time, the second one rested in his lap, tapping away as if expecting to be served.

“Get me a drink”

Your eye twitched in annoyance at the order as you headed into the kitchen and returned a moment later with a pitcher of water and a glass, which you slammed into the table in front of your unwelcome guest. “Serve yourself, or wait until Yuji shows up. I am not your servant.”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow before he threw his head back and laughed. An unkind sound that made the hairs stand on the back of your neck. Rather than show your fear, you moved towards the bags of decorations you and Yuji had gotten the day prior and pulled out another bag of thick white cobwebs with tiny plastic spiders. You ripped the bag open, sending stapes that held the plastic bag together with the paper tag everywhere, with one landing into Sukuna’s lap.

He stopped laughing, and you thought the ex-con was going to kill. “Yuji was right; you have guts. I respect that, woman.” You guessed ‘woman’ was a step above ‘brat’, but you weren’t wholly confident and were not about to ask him either.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw him reach over and pour himself a glass from the pitcher before downing the entire thing in one go. There wasn’t a ‘thank you’ in sight as he placed the glass back on the table. Then he reached over to the bag of trick-or-treat candy prepared for the Trick-or-Treating neighbouring kids forgotten on the table and pulled out a Snickers bar. Without asking, he tore the wrapping open, broke off a piece and ate it. He made a face, but to your surprise, he did not comment on the treat. “What’re you doing, woman?”

You looked up from untangling the last spider before stretching out the cobwebs. “Decorating”, You answered flatly, going over to the ladder and climbing the wobbly thing towards the ceiling. You didn’t look at Sukuna as you perched on the top step's edge and put the cobwebs' first edge on the pre-prepared hook. You shifted, too lazy to climb down and move the step to reach the next hook until you practically balanced on your tip-toes, your entire body and the ladder shaking from the effort. When you missed the last hook for the third time, you huffed in annoyance and climbed down.

“Give it here” You didn’t realise Sukuna had come up to the stairs until he was beside you. He took the remaining web from your hands and climbed confidently onto the ladder before he saddled the top stair, one leg on either side.* A second later, he angled his body and effectively walked the ladder between the cobwebs and remaining hooks, leaving you gaping like an idiot. Then, once the cobweb was hung, he beckoned with his hand. When you didn’t move, he glared at you with narrowed eyes. “Next one, woman.”

The order snapped you out of your daze, and you rushed back to the living room to open the next bag of decorations. “Those go in the corner-” you pointed where you meant, only to receive a glare and a tsk in response as he already began hanging it up, not caring or even listening to the end of your sentence. You remained quiet after that, just passing him decoration after decoration, which he set up from the hallway to the living room, to the kitchen and the bedrooms before finally walking the stairs towards the bathroom, where he quickly took down your giraffe-themed shower curtain to replace it with a more theme-appropriate glow in the dark one with bloody handprints on.

You quickly realised two things: Sukuna had a knack for decorating, finding ways to turn your spooky vision even more spooky than you imagined it, and second, he didn’t say much as he worked. He motioned with one hand for the next decoration and the other for the tool. It was then your job to figure out what he wanted unless you wanted to face his glare. Still, over the coming hour, you felt yourself inevitably relax. He had a sharp and rude mouth on and a mean look, but as Yuji said, he wasn’t inherently causing trouble either and not what you expected from someone who had spent his youth locked up behind bars for heinous crimes. Most certainly, you didn’t expect a violent ex-con to be in your apartment, hanging up paper cut-outs of pumpkins and ghosts.

“Let’s take a break”, you offered from the doorway, raising a bottle of beer in silent offer for a drink.

The sneer on Sukuna’s face made you almost drop the drink.

You yelped loudly as he jumped from the ladder in one fleeting move before ripping the cold one out of your hands. “ Damn greedy woman, made me drink water when you had this” his scolding sounded more like a certain death if you ever served him water instead of beer. He downed the bottle in one go, then grabbed the second beer you had gotten for yourself before heading back to your couch, leaving you standing with just an empty bottle.

“Seriously?!” you hissed to yourself, going to the kitchen and retrieving another before going where he was. You sat on the armchair opposite, your eyes on your phone as you typed out yet another message to Yuji, asking where he was.

“So explain yourself, woman,” you looked up as Sukuna addressed you, then tilted your head to the side in slight confusion. He motioned towards the decoration, but when you still didn’t reply, he spoke with a sneer, “Why make it look like you haven’t cleaned in centuries?”

“Because it’s gonna be a Halloween party,” You said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world,” Like our entire floor is going to be like a huge party, with different themes between each apartment.”

When he didn’t give you any reaction, you changed the apps on your phone and opened up the pictures from the last Halloween before reaching it over and showing him. “So you see, the first apartments have a scary corridor, then in the third, there’s a huge nightclub, and here we’ll set up a drinks table and refreshments, and it’s gonna be sorta like a calm place to relax and chat–Hey!” You yelled out as Sukuna’s ice-cold hand wrapped around your wrist and tugged you into the couch beside himself with a single yank. His other arm was still wrapped around the back of the sofa; you could feel it against your neck as you hit your new seat. He didn’t heed you before bringing your phone closer to his face, flickering through the pictures.

“So booze and bloody-murder screaming?” you nodded with a grin as he began to understand what you were getting at “ and slutty women?”

You grimaced a little at the last description, but admittedly, you couldn’t deny the accusation. Most people who attended this four-apartment party were local unit guys and girls whose definition of modesty was non-existent. Admittedly, you weren’t much better after a few drinks. “Well…” you cut yourself off as Sukuna reached into one of the Halloween shopping bags that was half empty; the only thing remaining in that bag was a seductive cat costume that Yuji had practically drooled over when you tried it on the day prior.

The sight of it made Sukuna burst out laughing. “ A giant pussy? How fitting.” He taunted as you reached for the costume with a bright blush.

“Give it back!” you whined as Sukuna kept it just out of reach, one hand waving it above your head in a taunting display while the hand that had rested on the couch gripped your shoulder, preventing you from standing or launching after it. “Hey, it’s not fair!”

Sukuna’s sadistic grin said, ‘Nothing’s fair’ as he waved the costume again in your face, then yanked it back at the last minute; “You want it back? Then you will tell me everything about this little party of yours, woman.”

“Then ask like a normal person!” You cried and made another launch for the costume. You paused mid-way through as you heard the front door bust open, followed by the ruffling of plastic bags and pounding of feet.

“Y/N, I'm so sorry I overslept, but I'm here now and-” Yujis cut himself, gasping for air, chopping out apologies in between breathing.

You glanced over at him.

“ I’m still pissy with you.” You said simply before crossing your arms over your chest and leaning back against the couch. You tried to look disappointed or stern or at least annoyed at Yuji.

Your boyfriend hung his head while slowly raising one of the heavier bags. “Brunch? And a mimosa to go with it?” The puppy dog eyes and the quivering lip won you over almost as much as the promised breakfast-turned-lunch and a drink to sweeten the deal. Your lips pulled up into a huge grin.

“Get in the kitchen” Your tone was teasing, and Yuji responded with a salute, moving to pick up the bags again.

“Pfff, as if that brat knows how to cook anything,” Sukuna spoke up, momentarily pausing from flickering through the party pictures on your phone.

You spun your head around to face Sukuna, a scowl on your lips. “As if you could do any better”, you huffed and saw his eyes narrow in a murderous warning glare. After being exposed to them all morning, it didn’t scare you as much anymore. So you just raised your chin, the challenge present.

“Tsk, insolent woman, I’ll show you.” Sukuna pushed himself off the couch, throwing the costume back at you, and followed Yuji to the kitchen. A moment later, you heard Yuji’s loud voice, ‘Thanks, cousin,’ before he flew out of there as if hell’s fire was under his feet.

Yuji made a bee-line straight for the couch, plopping down beside you. His arm reaches out and wraps around your shoulders, Coxing you away from studying your costume. “Hey,” his tone was playful, loving, as his other hand brushed some flyaway hairs off your face.

“Hey yourself”, you returned the favour, brushing your hand through his hair, feeling the lingering waxy-sticky texture on your fingertips. “Should I be worried? You know, about my kitchen and your cousin?”

“ Neah” Yuji brushed the tip of his nose against yours, his lips up in a slight smirk. “Thanks for getting me out of kitchen duty, by the way.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shoving him playfully away seconds before he could kiss you. “I didn’t ‘get you out of anything’, Sukuna volunteered.”

“Sure he did” Yuji tried to close the distance again, only to have his lips meet the plastic packaging of your costume. “Baby~”

“ Nope, still pissy with you. So no kisses for now,” your tone of voice dropped to a whisper, “I don’t wanna snuggle with your cousin here.”

“You care what he thinks?” Yuji sounded doubtful, and you merely rolled your eyes.

“No, I care about keeping decent appearances. And I doubt I’d be able to stop now, with just a kiss” You give Yuji a wink, seeing his face flush a crimson red, then duck out of the way as he dived towards you to get that kiss and a little more. “Now, c’mon, the faster we get started, the faster we’re done with party-prep.”

Yuji whined, a pout on his face the entire time you kept setting up the last of the so-called calm corner, which would be your apartment for the upcoming party. He hadn’t stopped pouting by the time Sukuna was done with brunch, and the three of you sat down, something the older cousin remarked on.

“The fuck’s gotten his panties in a twist?” Sukuna asked as Yuji looked like a dark cloud loomed over him, poking at his breakfast sausage with half-hearted enthusiasm.

“Just leave him be.” You replied sharply, tense at the fact that Yuji had to be so bloody and childish and make a huge deal that you set some no-kissing boundaries in the presence of guests in your home.

But you figured he would cheer up once the last of the party prep was finished, and you two got some alone in your bedroom. Even if Sukuna was going to crash on your couch- because you would be damned three times over before you let the ex-con land back in prison for drunk driving or crashing on his roaring horror on the way home. No, you would pretend it was just You and Yuji and forget all about the ex-con on your couch, separated only by a heavy oak door. And you’d make it up to your sulking boyfriend with a ton of kisses, you were certain of it.

When it was finally bedtime, Yuji surprised you by showering, changing into his usual t-shirt and boxers combo and jumping into bed. However instead of laying on his back, legs spread waiting for you to crawl to him, he rolled over to his side, away from you, so he faced the bedroom door instead of you. You frowned but made an attempt to crawled closer in your silky, half sheer nightgown and specially picked skimpy panties, no bra, a sultry pouty look on your face.

“Baby”, You purred, reaching out a hand to trace down his bicep. Yuji shook your touch off. You reeled back, hurt and confused by his reaction. “Yuji?”

“You didn’t wanna kiss me,” Yuji stated.

You gaped and sat down in the middle of your bed; your jaw dropped as you gathered your thoughts and the unmistakable implications of his words. Then your expression darkened. “Are you seriously punishing me for not wanting to kiss you in front of your cousin?”

Yuji shrugged in response.

You sat in bed for a moment, the sting of rejection hurting worse than you expected. Here, you were prepared to make it up to him for no kisses all afternoon, and he acted like he didn’t care. He just sulked in bed like an immature child.

Fine then. You got off the bed and waited a second to see if he would change his mind and pull you back into it. But Yuji didn’t move, so you threw on your silky bathrobe over yourself, tying it firmly into place. “You wanna sulk? Then sulk. I’m going downstairs to get some cooking prep done for tomorrow. You know where to find me if you want to get some!” You stomped to the door, paused and gave him another chance to stop this childish charade of pushing you away because of something so small.

But Yuji didn’t move, and you stepped out of your bedroom door and slammed the door behind you.

You cursed when you remembered Sukuna was sleeping on the couch. But you didn’t hear him stir and walked briskly in the darkness to the kitchen. You didn’t want to wake Sukuna by turning on the light- the last thing you wanted to do was deal with his condescending glare and bossy ‘woman this- woman that’. No, you went straight to the sink to pour yourself a cup of water, your body practically shaking with rage.

A rage that only increased as you heard footsteps walk after you into the kitchen. They stopped quickly from you, and you didn’t turn around to face him. Nothing happened, and there was silence and darkness around you. Your frustration mounted, and you brought the glass to your lips, gulping down the water and then choking on it.

A hand tapped your back a few times until the water got out of your lungs and then lingered there. “ Thanks, baby, you changed your mind for a little late-night fun? We should go upstairs- ah!”

You gasped as he pushed you up against the sink. Two hands firmly gripping your waist, hard cock pressed against the curve of your ass. His chest against your back, applying just the right amount of weight to have you bent slightly forward, gripping the sink.

“Y-yuji baby-” You gasped, grinding back against him. “W-We can’t! Y-your cousin is here; he’ll hear!”

The only response you get is a shift of clothing, feel your bathrobe get hiked up, and his hard dick slide right over the barely there panties. “Mphfmm” Your hand flies up to your mouth, your teeth biting into your fingers to keep yourself from moaning.

Fuck Yuji’s never been this rushed. Never straight to the act, bend you over the nearest surface and fuck you like a street whore,kinda-guy. It’s always slow and sensual to make love. Fingering, eating out, lube. Sex with Yuji is always a several-hour slow ordeal.

This was hot and hard; the hands-on your waist kept you bent, your arm against the sink the only way you braced yourself against the motion of his hips. But goddamn, that angle made your knees weak, the way his cock slid between your slick puffy folds, the tip bullying against your clit with every thrust.

“Mmmneah Y-Yuji, he’ll hear– ahhh god, I’m close” You bite your hand hard to silence the scream as he pushes his cock inside you. The hand dropped away from your waist and grabbed your leg, throwing it up on the counter.

“Oh fuck!” You moan, even as both hands land on your mouth. But the new angle, the speed, the slap of his balls against your ass and his bullying cock leaves you weak. The moans slip through your fingers as you cum all over him, your body shaking like a leaf.

“Ahh, oh god, mmm” you’re moaning and cooing. He kept thrusting, each movement growing more rapid, and you’re fucking crying at how good it feels. Intense and so fucking hot. You’re not bothering to hide your moans or gasps anymore, taking every single thrust until you think that final extra hard one, followed by hot spurs of cum filling your pussy and overflowing out, making a mess between your legs.

“Fucking hell, Yuji”, You rasped out, your hand gripping the counter as he pulled out of you. You just sat there for a moment, high on the rush and the pleasure. A painful slap on your ass startles you out of your thoughts, and you yelp, partially in pain and partially in surprise. That’s not something Yuji did; the feeling of wrongness set over you. But your mind doesn’t let you focus on that- instead, it reminds you of Sukuna sleeping on the couch a few paces away and the horrible never-fading embarrassment if he were to wake up, go to the kitchen and find you in the very porno-like position, with a leg thrown up on the counter and hot cum flowing right out of your newly fucked pussy.

You hurriedly threw your leg back down and re-tied the bathrobe over yourself. You took another clunk of the half-abandoned glass of water, then set it in the sink before you tiptoed out of the kitchen. On your way out, you threw a glance at Sukuna but saw him fast asleep on the couch, soft snores escaping him, arm over his ears, facing the back of the sofa. You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding and head to your bathroom.

You did a quick cleanup, just enough to remove the worst mess between your legs. Then, you headed back to your bedroom.

You saw that Yuji was up. His hands fidgeted nervously in his lap, and his gaze was firmly planted on his hands. He didn’t say anything as you stepped towards your side of the bed and slid under the warm covers of your bed. You laid on your side, yet even before you settled down, he was on you, his hands wrapped around your side, his face buried into the crook of your neck.

“I’m so sorry, baby”, Yuji mumbled.. “It was stupid of me to push you away. I just. I didn’t expect you to get along so well with Sukuna, but I got. I'm a little jealous.” He rubbed your side slowly until the tension finally left your body, and you breathed a sigh of relief.

“You’re forgiven, " you mumbled, pressing your body closer against his. “No, no baby, I was a total ass; let me make it up to you, show you how sorry I am” Yuji pressed a kiss to your shoulder, his fingers making their way between your legs. “Ohh baby, damn, you’re so sticky already, so wet, my little minx.. Oh hey, is that cum inside you?”

His words make your blood run cold; your heart drops to your feet as you realise whose dick you had inside you moments earlier.

Author note: Did I skip days a little bit? Yes I did, but I really wanted to know what you guys would think about this more story-based smut. That's the type of fics I'd wanna publish in the future, question is, is it the type of content you'd wanna read?

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All fics are unique works by © miss-cincaide 2024. Do not copy/repost/translate or spread my work(s) without my explicit permission. If you see any of my work(s) reworked/reposted/copied anywhere, please inform me!

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lostintransist · 2 months ago

Text

Seamstress Masterlist

You run a seamstress business in the manufacturing district. It is not unusual for men who look rough around the edges to pop through your doors. It is even less unusual that they fall asleep in your cushioned chairs while waiting for their minor fixes to be completed. However, one new customer is a bit different as he often will bring in clothes that don't fit him for fixes. Being a smart business woman you choose not to question it. It doesn't hurt that he is nice to look at and fun to talk to.

Series CW: written as a female reader, family drama and honestly bad mother daughter dynamics, mentions of healing from a traumatic experience (John), sexual content (part 9).

This is complete! 😘

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

AO3

Masterlist

Shout-out to @moomoog017 and @drizztdohurtin the cute dividers!

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peachsukii · 11 months ago

Note

Hiii just thinking about Bakugo x reader where reader’s in danger from a villain attack and Bakugo saves her heheh. And then the media’s eating it up like 😭😭

this is such a cute idea!! ✨

— accidental damage

summary: you've been swamped with work as a pro-hero support engineer, pushing 80 hour weeks over the busy season, and finally have a day off! bakugo, however, isn't so lucky and ends up getting called in for an emergency patrol during your movie date. instead of sitting at home, you decide to treat yourself and head out into the city. turns out, you probably should have stayed home...considering the fashion district you frequently visit was the villain-of-the-week's choice of attack. tags & warnings: mild violence, anxiety, cursing | lovers (bf/gf), fluff, emotional comfort, physical hurt, protective bakugo, reader doesn't have a quirk, reader's a badass, accidental pda, oops the secret's out now, bakugo treats reader like a princess a/n: wanted to change up the dynamic a little and make reader & bakugo secretly date from opposing sides of the hero world! i'd love to see more of the support class tbh ꒰ Ao3 version | word count; 2,890 ꒱

It’s your day off! After working endless hours for the past month, you’re finally free of the frenzy of Support Request busy season. Spring is often the time that most heroes submit their upgrade and repair requests to their agency’s support team, resulting in a non-stop effort to get through everything in a timely manner. The agency doesn’t want to be responsible for a hero not being able to perform their patrol duties from malfunctioning hero attire.

The original plan of the day was to spend it in your apartment, watching movies with your bombastic hero of a boyfriend - Dynamight. Unfortunately, just like 9 out of 10 other times, he was called out on an emergency shift to cover for someone else.

Being the girlfriend of the number 6 hero wasn’t easy, especially because no one knew you two were even together.

The two of you attended UA High together in separate classes - Class A and Class H. You knew of one another, but never had a chance to talk outside of the occasional ‘hey.’ After graduating from UA, the two of you happen to be hired to the same agency in Tokyo as you were assigned to his support team. A few late night dinners, long phone calls, and plenty of flirty banter later, you started quietly dating the explosive hero. It’s been about two years and you’re happy as can be - secret or not. It wasn’t for any purpose other than to keep the media out of Bakugo’s personal life and focused on his hero career as it was common for the public to become judgmental and fans to get…protective, to say the least. The last thing you wanted to do was to risk his ranking or public image for the sake of labeling him as "taken."

───

"Oh god fuckin' dammit," Bakugo cursed as his phone rang on loop, vibrating to the edge of the coffee table. Removing his arm from your waist, he frustratingly snatched it from the table before the final ring. You caught a glimpse of the caller ID before he answered and left the couch.

AGENCY EMERGENCY LINE

Aww...we just started the movie, you thought, disappointed in the timing.

It was unavoidable, though, considering he was in the top 10 of the pro hero circuit in a record amount of time after graduating from UA. He was damn good at his job and worked his ass off to get where he is today. You're so proud of him and all he's accomplished, but that doesn't mean that you hate how often they pull him back into work on his days off. He hates it just as much as you do.

You overhear a bit of the conversation as he moved to the hallway to take the call.

"Dynamight, we need to you to assist..."

"Spare me the damn formalities and just tell me where the hell you're sending me."

"It's downtown, sector 24, you'll be going along side..."

That's all you heard before he was out of earshot.

You never held it against Bakugo whenever this would happen, it wasn't his fault at all, he had a job to do and he was needed - that's all it was.

He returned from the hallway, a scowl on his face as he plopped onto the cushion next to you. You already know what he's about to say.

"I'm sorry sweets, I gotta go back to work." He leans over and plants a soft kiss on your cheek. "What a fuckin' week. Been lookin' forward to finally sitting at home."

You frown as you squeeze his hand reassuringly. "It's okay, the world needs the great Dynamight."

Bakugo groans in defeat, leaving the couch to run for the door. He's about to put his shoes on and grab his keys before he pauses, dropping his boots in the entryway and skipping back over to the couch. He bends over the arm and sits awkwardly on it as he grabs your chin, turning your face to his. He places a kiss to your lips and it leaves you breathless, like always.

“Love you, sweetheart,” he purrs, finger brushing along the top of your cheek.

“Love you too, Kats,” you respond quietly as his hand leaves your cheek. “Be safe, text me when you head home.”

He grabs his keys and wallet from the entryway, shuffling through it and placing his credit card back onto the table.

"Leavin' my card for you to take, baby. Go buy somethin' pretty for yourself."

And just like that, he's out the door and on his way back to the agency for the fifth time this week.

───

Bakugo had a habit of not letting you pay for almost anything, no matter how much you protested against him - it was one of his ways of showing his love for you. He would often scold you for having somewhat of an overspending problem, but your motto was always “money comes back!” He’d roll his eyes and hand you his credit card, preferring to spoil you instead of letting you drag yourself into debt. You learned to stop refusing his offer to pay for things a few months into your relationship, knowing full well he'd never back down after he'd steal your card out of your hands or swap it for his when you weren't looking.

Might as well take him up on his offer and go shopping!

Strolling down one of the main streets of the fashion district, you pop into one of your favorite clothing boutiques to browse around. It's busy for a Sunday afternoon, but the crowds don't bother you. Whenever you came here, Bakugo would often wait a street or two over to avoid said crowds. He hated them, but never wanted to leave you alone, so he'd tag along in ways that made him comfortable.

You're flipping through a sales rack outside of the store when a sudden rumbling in the street catches your attention. An earthquake, maybe? A couple of people around you notice as well and stop what they’re doing to focus on the vibrations. A moment later, the street becomes riddled with panic as the entire crowd is rushing in the opposite direction.

Of course a villain would show up to ruin your shopping trip.

You always make sure for these type of scenarios that you keep a spare gadget in your bag for protection. Bakugo wasn’t satisfied with you carrying just a normal self defense weapon, so he helped (more so forced you to) craft a device that would allow you to “save your own quirk-less ass” if push came to shove. He knew how talented you were and dedicated to your craft, always thinking up new gadgets and drawing plans off the clock. He wanted to encourage you to create your own genius contraption rather than solely making things for the heroes around you.

Digging through your bag, you grab onto the make-shift object that resembles a pair of bracelets. You slip them on and push the buttons on the underside of each bangle - activating the mechanism inside. They cover your hands in a binding of metals that resemble armored gloves and crawl up your forearms and end at your elbows.

Time to see what these babies can do!

You laugh to yourself at the thought of calling your creations "babies." It fondly reminds you of Hatsume and how she would be ecstatic over her piles of support items she's constructed, constantly flailing around the support classroom with glee.

Your attention is roughly brought back to the villain landing a few stores away from you as a giant gust of wind forces remaining civilians out of his way. He's sporting a jetpack-like bag on his back, motorized arms poking out of it like a spider. He spots you out of the corner of his eye, immediately curious about your support gear.

"Oh? What do we have here?" He questions, gesturing in your direction. "Those look too high and mighty for a girl your size. Are you even a hero?"

You know he's trying to antagonize you and get under your skin, and unfortunately, it works. But if you can keep him distracted until a hero shows, he'll do less damage to the area and you can prevent unnecessary causalities.

"Who needs a hero when a 'normie' like me can kick your ass with my bare fists?" you instigate, praying that'll convince him to shift his full attention to you. It does, aggressively launching himself in your direction with his...spider legs?...and lands in front of you, bending over to level his eyes with yours.

"Those are some brave words for a bug like you."

You take a deep breath, steadying your stance before landing a swift right hook to his jaw, sending him soaring into the street. Your gloves make a soft hiss as they release the energy stored inside them.

Yes! God, that felt good. Is this how Kat feels?!

The villain clamors to his feet, seething with rage as he readjusts his set of translucent goggles.

"You little bitch!"

You brace yourself for impact by crossing the gloves in front of you, summoning a temporary energetic barrier to guard against his attack. The force sends you stumbling backwards, falling straight on your ass as you roll out of the way of a robot leg slamming down next to you.

Just keep moving, don't stop moving, remember what Kat taught you!

You're extremely thankful in this moment that Bakugo practically forced you to train with him. He was adamant on you having basic fighting ability - hand to hand combat, some karate, self-defense moves, and more importantly, staying in shape to outrun any villains. He didn't think you were incapable of handling yourself, he just wanted you to be able to kick some ass while doing it.

As you're zigzagging the villain, dozens of cameramen and reporters are flooding the scene, desperate to get the 'first look' on the details of the commotion. Your tunnel vision on the current threat in front of you keeps you busy, not noticing the massive media crowd forming around you on both ends of the street.

The villain jumps up, catching you off guard as he lands behind you, smacking you in the back with a robot arm with a loud thwap that sends you careening into a clothing rack on the street. A collective gasp is heard from the peanut gallery, clamoring over your safety for 'views.'

You may or may not have hit your head - unsure if you're dizzy from the fall or a potential concussion. Shaking yourself out of the haze, you scramble away from a follow-up attack from one of his mechanized tendrils.

"Aw, are you backing away from the fight you started?!" He taunts, arrogantly laughing at your defensive maneuvers.

In the distance, you begin to hear soft booms echo through the air, steadily growing in volume. You knew exactly who was rushing to the scene.

Oh buddy, now you're fucked.

You can't help the devilish smirk that crosses your lips, anticipating your hero boyfriend to show up and blow this guy into the pavement. In the interim, you have one final trick up your sleeve - literally - to give this guy a pre-beatdown of your own.

"Nah, just wearing you down so I can knock your ass out!" you boast, channeling your best "hero" speech.

With a few taps of your fingers on the metal gripping your forearms, the gloves begin to channel energy into the palms of your hands, lighting up with blue sparks as it charged. You needed an extra 15 seconds before they were ready to burst. The villain notices, swiping at your feet to knock you down before you can properly dodge. The breath is knocked from your lungs and leaves you gasping for air.

Boom, boom...boom!

You can tell Bakugo's almost here as the explosions get louder with each burst.

Just 5 more seconds...

"Yo, spider-freak!" Bakugo roars from atop a nearby building. "We can do this th' easy way or hard way. Your choice, jackass!"

He hasn't noticed you yet as your gloves begin to beep, signaling the charge is ready for use.

Perfect timing.

Getting to your feet is more of a struggle than anticipated as you're still recovering from the previous strike. Wobbling on jelly legs, you plant your feet solidly on the pavement to the best of your ability, bring your hands up in front of you and aim your palms at the villain. Your loud cackle catches Bakugo’s attention, sending a panic coursing through his veins as he finally sees you - shaking like a leaf with a grin on your face.

What the fuck is she doing?!

His train of thought is interrupted by your gloves firing off a massive burst of energy, hitting the villain square in the chest and slamming him into the ground, shattering his robotic accessories in the process.

Holy shit, those fuckers work after all.

Bakugo can't help but snort at your ballsy attempt to hold down the villain, feeling simultaneously proud and scared shitless that you'd put yourself in the middle of harms way for strangers - just like himself. He's blasting off the building and down to the street to wrap up what's left of this D-lister villain.

The blowback from the gloves, however, is way harder to handle than anticipated. As the gloves emit vapor and a sharp hissing noise, you're sent teetering backward, tumbling across the street until your body skids to a halt.

───

Everything fucking hurts.

But holy shit, that was exhilarating.

There's sirens in the distance while you lay there, signaling that they're more than likely surrounding the asshole and taking him into custody. You groan and grumble while sitting up, propping yourself up on your elbows as a loud thud lands at your feet.

You know the sound of those boots anywhere.

"Dynamight?" you feign, pretending to be distressed after the fight. "Oh, you showed up at the perfect -,"

He cuts you off with a sharp quip, his voice gruff with a playful tone. "Shut the fuck up."

Bakugo crouches down as he's grabbing your wrists and hoisting you up onto your feet. He holds onto you for a moment while you get your bearings, wobbling like a baby deer. Once you're steady, he pulls you flush to his body and cups your chin in his gloved hand. Before you can protest his movements, he swoops down and your lips meet.

He's kissing you.

In the middle of the street.

In front of every single press company in the city.

In public.

You squeak against his lips, putting your hands on his chest to create space between the two of you as you pull away. He's perplexed at your hesitation until the realization whips him back to reality.

"Fuck!" Bakugo snarled, a pink blush creeping up the back of his neck. He was too caught up in the moment with adoration over your bravery that he...forgot he was on duty.

Cameras and reporters are rushing over, shouting a million different questions at the two of you.

"Miss! Are you a hero, too? What's your name?"

"Are you Dynamight's side-kick?"

"Dynamight, you saved the city once again! Who is this young lady in relation to you?"

"Are you worried this will affect your reputation with your supporters?"

"God, the agency is gonna fuckin' hate me for this," he growls.

Oh no. You just inadvertently tainted his reputation. He might get demoted...if only you had just stayed home today.

Bakugo turns toward the thousands of camera flashes and video cameras, arm slung around your shoulder.

"This is y/n, she's a support engineer from my agency and saved your asses today," he says confidently. "And she's my girlfriend, so don't get any wrong ideas about it."

What?!

The mob of media personnel begin speaking all at once to Bakugo again, shouting question after question.

"How long have you two been together?"

"Is she in training to be a hero, too?"

"That device was impressive! How did you manufacture it?"

"Do you have a quirk?"

You're standing there, dumbfounded that Bakugo just openly admitted to your relationship on live TV and to news reporters. You can't help but flush red over the barrage of questions, not used to this kind of interrogation in your line of support work.

He sighs, shaking his head as he removes his arm from your shoulder and moving to hold your hand.

"Quit it the questions, we're leaving."

With that, he parts through the crowd with you following behind, crossing over to the other street before letting go of your hand.

"Katsuki...are you sure you’re okay with this?" you ask timidly, aware that you can't take back what he said.

"Idiot, I don't lie about things like that. Now I get to show off my perfect princess."

You say nothing in return, just quietly squeal and do a little happy dance.

Perfect princess.

"Let's get your stubborn ass to the medical team, you look like shit," he teases, poking you in the forehead. "And we should probably tone back the output on those gauntlets, that coulda killed somebody - or you."

You hum in acknowledgement and follow him down the street, heading back to the agency together.

think of the gloves as, like, ironman suit type gear? how you can just pop them on and use them as enhanced fighting gear. hehe, a cute little panic fluff is always fun. thanks much again to @queenpiranhadon for the prompt!! 💜

#bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #pro hero bakugo x reader #bakugo fluff #pro hero bakugo #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x you #bnha #mha #katsuki bakugo #☆.ask rei #☆.rei writes

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lokisgoodgirl · 1 year ago

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Welcome to the Masterlist for The Lakes. A series (yes, series) which I hope will be a staple of your autumnal days alongside steaming tea, cosy candles and thick, fluffy blankets.

This series is complete.

A Link to my regular Masterlist is HERE

The Lakes: Captain Rogers in his infinite wisdom has decided that a select team of Avengers require a crash course in basic outdoor survival skills. Location? The Lake District, England.

In the crisp chill of autumn, based out of a tiny and remote cottage, your reluctant role as the resident 'expert' is put to the test. But nothing the wilds of Cumbria can throw is more testing than the ever-present irritations and temptations of your recent ex, Loki.

Warnings: More domestic humour, thirst, mild angst and fluff than smut. Although there is some smut obviously, because I have a problem.

Characters: Agent Reader (no YN), Loki, Thor, Steve

Each chapter will have a suggested vibe setting track from Taylor Swift's Folklore which is appropriate but entirely optional.

Chapter-Cottage🏕️ 1. Changing Seasons (w/c 3.8k) 2. Sticks and Stones : (w/c 4.8k) 3. A Long Way Down (w/c 4.6k) 4. Home Truths (w/c 4.5k) 5. A Cunning Plan - (w/c 4.7k) 6. Darkest Night, Brightest Day (w/c 6.2k) 7. Harvest -(w/c 6.2k)

Christmas Specials 8. Secretive Santa (w/c 7.3k) 9. Comfort & Joy (w/c 7.8k)

#the lakes #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki smut #loki fanfiction #loki x female reader #loki fluff #loki angst #avenger loki #loki fanfic #loki marvel #loki series

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phoward89 · 11 months ago

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Banner by me, dividers by @saradika-graphics

Based on this ask

Head Gamemaker!Coriolanus Snow, Young Politician!Coriolanus Snow, Coriolanus and Reader are 25 in this.

Warnings! Cussing, Premature labor, mention of suicide, mention of death, heavy angst, underage smoking um I think that's it...

Hate That I Love You

There's an old saying that goes 'There's a fine line between love and hate'. An old saying that would ring true about your relationship with Coriolanus Snow.

Coriolanus needed to marry for power and money in order to cement his path to political (presidential) success. Which is why he married you.

Lucky you…

Anyways, he brokered an arranged marriage with your step-father, who was a high ranking general in the Peacekeepers, by reminding him that your real father Colonel Halvir had served with his father, General Crassus Snow. That they had died together in the woods of 12 by the hands of rebels and it's only fitting that the heirs of both military greats marry.

Honestly, he just wanted your step-father’s money and political support. What better way to get a seat on the war council then to marry the step-daughter of the Head Of The War Department.

Yea, your step-father was given that position after Dr. Gaul met a tragic and accidental death. It's such a pity that she ‘accidently’ slipped and fell into a tank of deadly mutts.

Well, Coriolanus was given her position as Head Gamemaker at only 23 while your family got an even bigger boost in political power.

Of course, your step-father agreed to the match. Your mother was leery about it and your older brother, Rein, honestly didn't give a shit since he was off in one of the districts serving as a peacekeeper. Your younger half-brother, Darius, thought that you were marrying a cold blooded snake.

Oh, how he couldn't be more spot on if he tried.

9 months of marriage (7 of them being pregnant) and your husband was still cold and offish to you. He seemed to avoid you, unless he wanted to get his dick wet.

Hell, he even avoided eating meals with you.

It was a miracle that he even ate Sunday dinners with you, considering he would grab the plate you made up for him and take it to his private study to eat.

All alone and locked away from you. As if you disgusted him.

You'd be lying if you said it didn't bother you, because it did. It hurts (especially since you were pregnant) having a husband that hates you. What makes it worse is that you fell in love with the cold hearted bastard. You don't even know how you managed to do that, but you did.

And on top of everything, your pregnancy wasn't the easiest one either. Even though you’re young, you've been extremely stressed (of course you're stressed, look at who your husband is) and your OBGYN told you that you needed to calm down or else you'd be at risk for a few health issues.

Mostly high blood pressure and…well…you didn't even want to think about the other one the doctor mentioned.

Of course, since your husband’s too busy campaigning for the Senate (he claimed that he needed to become a Senator before he could even think about running for President) he never went to any of your appointments. He offered though. He always offered to go with you, but you always waved him off and told him to worry about his campaign.

That you'd be fine going to the doctor by yourself.

But the truth was, you just couldn't handle pretending to be a happy couple in at the doctor's office. It was easier to let everyone at OBGYN’s office to believe that Coriolanus was busy with his political ambitions along with being the head gamemaker then having them see how uninterested he was in your pregnancy.

How fake his smiles were; how his hands shook with disgust when holding yours.

You were afraid the little cracks in the facade you put on with Coriolanus for the public would crack in the doctor's office. It was too much of a close, intimate setting for the cracks not to be easily hidden.

It wasn't like when he drags you around to galas, showing you off on your arm to the right people only to shoo you off to talk to the rich Capitol housewives. You didn't spend too much time at galas with him. You spent your time playing the part of a pretty perfect housewife that got along with other rich women while your husband spent his time networking.

Talk about your husband, Coriolanus was currently in staring at his reflection in the floor length mirror near the closet while tying his red and black damask tie in a Windsor knot. He looked perfectly handsome today. His platinum hair (Which you were shocked to find out was natural. Say what?!) was perfectly styled and slicked back with gel and his face was freshly shaved. Like always, he was dressed in one of his custom suits that cost more than what somebody in the mines, fields, and factories of the districts made in a month.

It was a black one with a matching waistcoat. Which was a far cry from all white and various shades of red he wore.

Hell, it wasn't just him that wore white and various shades of red, but you too since he deemed what dresses were in your closet. Eh, at least he had his cousin design you some pink dresses to wear in-between all the white and reds he curses you with.

Pink was your favorite color, but you know that he's got no clue. Having his cousin design a few pink dresses for you was just a coincidence.

It didn't mean anything.

As Coriolanus tied his tie with a Windsor knot, his icy blue eyes watched you from the mirror. You were across the room, sitting at the your vanity. Your were brushing your hair and looked a bit lost in your thoughts.

He wanted you ask you what was on your mind, but he was…

Scared.

Yes, he was scared to put himself in a situation where he had to have an actual conversation with you outside of the clipped responses and simple questions that are detrimental to married life.

Coriolanus was afraid that if he talked, truly talked with you, then the well kept secret he's been keeping for the last few months would come spilling out. That he'd have to confront his feelings for you because he knew that once he started to listen to you share your thoughts that he'd be a goner.

That his hard, cold mask he wears around you would shatter.

He just couldn't have that.

He couldn't allow himself to admit that he's in love with you.

Coriolanus swore to himself that he'd never fall in love again. That he'd never give somebody so much power and control over him and his emotions ever again.

That he'd never make himself become weak for a woman.

After Lucy Gray broke his heart by betraying him, manipulating him, and using him to keep her ungrateful ass alive, he swore off love.

Love was painful.

He learned that the hard way.

Love was a weakness that he couldn't afford.

So, he decided to marry somebody that he felt that he'd never be able to love. Somebody that he could even hate. And that's why he picked you.

Yes, your step-father was a very prominent general, but it was your mother's blood running in your veins that made you the perfect candidate for marriage. It was the worst best kept secret in the Capitol that your mother, Helenium, had baby trapped your father, an officer in the peacekeepers, into marrying to rise out of poverty in District 12. The fact that you had district blood, not any district but 12, blood running in your veins was reason enough for Coriolanus to hate you.

So, assuming that he'd hate you til her grew old and died, he approached your step-father about marrying you.

Unfortunately, he didn't anticipate how easy you truly were to fall in love with.

Fuck!

He hated it.

Coriolanus hated having feelings for you.

He didn't like feelings.

He refuses to acknowledge them.

As long as he ignored his feelings then he couldn't get hurt. You couldn't hurt him.

He's never let himself get hurt over love ever again.

Coriolanus was about to turn away from the mirror and walk out of the room, but stopped himself whenever he heard your breath hitch and saw you quickly place your hand on your rounded belly.

Was something wrong? The last time you had a doctor's appointment he intended to take the morning off, but you insisted that he meet with his political team and work on his Senate campaign. But when he got home he asked you how the appointment went and you told him everything was fine.

Did you lie to him?

Turning around to look at you, he asked, “Are you alright, Y/N?”

You powered through the sharp pain and nodded, “I'm fine, Coriolanus.”

“Are you sure?” Your husband asked, starting to make his way over to you with worry in his striking blue eyes.

“I'm sure, Coriolanus.” You lied.

You weren't fine. You were having sharp pains; felt a bit nervous too since you were only 7 months along in your pregnancy. But, you couldn't tell your husband that.

Coriolanus was as cold as his name- Snow.

He didn't give a fuck about you.

Hell, you could die in childbirth and he wouldn't even care. He'd just hire a nanny to raise his heir, your baby boy Cassian Xandros, and then he'd just find somebody else to marry. Somebody else to hate and make miserable.

You felt that Coriolanus wouldn't shed a single tear if something went wrong and you died in childbirth. That he wouldn't mourn you, wouldn't give a shit if your headstone was overrun with weeds and overgrowth.

You were so wrong though. So very wrong about that.

Coriolanus would be utterly heartbroken if he lost you the same way he lost his mother and baby sister. He'd blame himself.

He'd be eating a bullet and joining you in that graveyard, making your son an orphan, if you died in childbirth.

A thin, but fake smile, graces your lips as you assured him, “I'm fine, Coriolanus. It's probably just braxton hicks or something.” You felt him stop right next to you as you set your brush down. His shadow fell over you, but you refused to look up at him. Instead you reached for your powder compact.

Coriolanus gave it to you as a gift after you told him you were pregnant. It was silver and had roses engraved on it. The face powder inside of it smelled like roses too.

Unknown to you, him giving you that compact was his love language.

It belonged to his mother.

The first time he gave it to somebody it was filled with poison to help that manipulative performer of a bitch Lucy Gray to cheat in the arena during the 10th Hunger Games.

The second time he gave it to somebody, the reasoning wasn't twisted, but was genuine. Coriolanus thoroughly cleaned his mother's compact, filled it with rose scented face powder, and gave it to you after learning that you were carrying his child.

He gave it to you because you made him happy. Because you were giving him a family.

It was also the moment when he realized he didn't hate you at all, but actually had feelings for you.

Coriolanus would never admit it, but your pregnancy wasn't a happy one for him. He imagined that he'd be more involved, but you were pushing him so hard to focus on his campaign.

Even though he avoided talking to you for longer then he had to, he still wanted to be involved with your pregnancy. Maybe the next one’ll be happier since he won't be campaigning.

And yes, he planned on having at least one more child with you. Cassian Xandros needed a sibling after all.

Opening the compact and grabbing the puff inside, you told your husband, “I'm fine, really.” Patting the puff into the compact’s powder, you urge him to leave. “If you don't go, you'll be late for your political meetings and duties as head Gamemaker.”

Coriolanus nodded, only to rub your shoulder and say, “If you need me, call me.”, before pivoting on his heel and walking out of your master bedroom.

You thought that your pains would ease up, but they didn't. As the day progressed, so did they.

It got to the point that as you gazed outside the window, looking at the bustling city streets below, you debated on whether or not to call your husband.

Coriolanus told you to call him if you needed him. But, did you need him? Maybe. Hell, you didn't know. All you knew was that he didn't care about you; would probably be upset that you called him. He was a busy man; you doubt that he actually meant it when he told you to call him.

He probably just said it because it was the husbandly thing to say to a wife that seemed upset.

He didn't mean it. No, he was cold and unfeeling towards you so the less you bothered him the better.

Coriolanus was busy preparing for the start of the games and running a Senate campaign. He didn't need to be bothered by you and your pains.

You let out cry, feeling like a thunderbolt has struck your side. Oh god, the pains were getting worse.

Clenching your teeth, you turned away from the window to shuffle over to the phone.

You weren't going to call your husband. No, you couldn't do that. But, maybe you could call your doctor instead.

You never called your doctor.

Your sure as hell didn't call your Coriolanus either.

Instead, your 17 year old brother did. And that call, well, it gutted your husband.

He just replayed it over and over again in his mind as he rushed to the hospital (opting to snag the car keys from his driver, Bentley, and just gun it to Capitol General Hospital himself).

“This is Head Gamemaker Coriolanus Snow, to whom am I speaking with?” Coriolanus answered his office phone, like he always did, with a polite but professional greeting.

“Coriolanus, bro, it's Darius-” Your brother began to say, only for the aspiring senator to cut him off with a question of, “Darius, what are you calling me for? Shouldn't you be in class at the Academy right now?”

“Dude, you're the damn Head Gamer, did you forget how the top students are stuck mentoring tributes from districts without Victor's to act as mentors?” Darius asked in a ‘duh, you're an idiot’ type of tone. “I'm stuck being a mentor for District 8 and was given half the day off to go to the Tribute Housing center to make sure everything's all prepared and shit. So, before going over to that shit hole of a glorified hotel, I went to visit my sister, but I found her passed out and bleeding. I had to call the medics.”

Coriolanus’ couldn't believe his ears. You passed out and bleeding! Were you alright? Were you hurt? Was something wrong with the baby? Were you downplaying your pains this morning so he'd go to work instead of staying home with you?

So many questions ran through his platinum blonde head, but before he could string his thoughts together to form a coherent sentence, Darius told him, “You need to get to the hospital quick, Coriolanus. I'm just her brother and can't make any medical decisions for her since she's married to you.” Your little brother let out a shaky breath. “They saved the baby; it's in the NICU cause it came so early, but it's touch and go with Y/N.”

“What?...” Coriolanus let out in a whooshing breath.

Touch and go…

Did that mean?...

No…

No!

He couldn't lose you. Not now, not when he finally realized that he didn't hate you at all, but truly did love you with every fiber of his being.

“I’ll be right there. Thank you for calling, Darius.”

“Don't thank me, Coriolanus.” Darius spat, only to go on a long rant of, “I only called you because I can't make medical decisions for my sister and the hospital staff’s pussies that are too scared shitless of you to do it. If it was up to me, I wouldn't have called cause you're a cold hearted snake that doesn't deserve my sister. Y/N deserved a man that actually cares about her, not somebody that just takes her off a shelf and plays with her like a fucking doll when the mood hits.”

All Coriolanus could do was blink as his brother-in-law hung up on him.

Coriolanus' knuckles were holding onto the steering wheel with a white knuckle grip as he broke every traffic law known to man to get to the hospital.

The fact that he could lose you just like he lost his mother was fucking with his head. It was breaking him in ways that he never knew he could be broken.

Love is a painful thing. Love hurts. Love is the only thing to bring him to his knees. A feeling that he hates.

A feeling that he's tried to avoid.

But he couldn't avoid his feelings for you anymore.

Once he reached the hospital, Coriolanus inquired about your room, only to rush to your side. When he reached your room, you were hooked up to some machines and monitors.

Your little brother, Darius, was by your side. He was smoking a cigarette (which is not allowed in a hospital, by the way) while watching the Makary Show, which was a TV talk show where district women dragged peacekeepers and Capitol men they claimed were their baby daddies to do paternity tests.

“You can't smoke in here, Darius.” Coriolanus told your little brother while making his way to your bedside.

“It's a private room, cause the name Snow gets the VIP treatment, so it ain't like anyone's gonna complain bout it.”

“Y/N doesn't need to be exposed to it while she's fighting for her life. Be considerate of your sister.” Your husband hissed at your little brother.

“Oh, so now you give a fuck about her all of a sudden? Oooo…that's nice to know.”

Coriolanus' frostily stared Darius as he seethed, “Don't stand here and assume you know how I feel about my wife because you don't. Now, you need to leave.”

“I’ll let my parents know what's going on with Y/N.” Darius sighed, tossing his half smoked cigarette into his water cup before standing to his feet.

Without another word, your brother left your husband alone in your room.

Coriolanus took vigil by your bedside. He never left your side. Not even when a nurse came in and asked if he wanted to be escorted to the NICU to see his son.

He refused, saying that he'd see Cassian Xandros with you when you woke up.

The nurse sadly nodded and left him be. She thought he was grasping at straws since there was a chance that you wouldn't wake up.

Coriolanus begged you to wake up. Promised to make an effort to be around more of you'd only open your beautiful eyes from him.

And finally, after 3 days in a coma, you blinked your eyes open. At first your vision was a bit blurry as you heard a gasp from next to you. As your vision cleared, you saw your that your husband's face was near yours.

And he was crying.

He was crying?

Why was he crying?

You took in his appearance and realized that he looked like shit. His platinum curls, usually slick back with gel, were disheveled and greasy. He also had light blonde stuble covering his jaw.

But it was his icy blue eyes that tooth your breath away.

They held so much relief in them as they welled with water.

“Corio-” You began to ask, only for your husband to cut you off. “My darling, I thought I was going to lose you.” Coriolanus held you close to his chest and his voice cracked.

“Lose me? What happened?” You asked, pulling away from his hold to look up at him with confusion shining in your eyes.

“Darius found you passed out and bleeding, Y/N. You've been out of it for roughly 3 days.” Your husband explained, his usually firm voice a bit unsteady.

The air was knocked out of your lungs as the realization of what happened hit you. “The baby?...” You shakily asked, hoping that your baby boy survived.

“Cassian Xandros is strong and a survivor, just like us.” Coriolanus smiled. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, he explained, ‘He's in the NICU; the nurse can take us to see him.”

Assuming that Coriolanus has seen your son already, you innocently asked, “Does he look like me or like you?”

“I don't know, darling. I've been waiting for you to wake up so we can see him together.”

Your husband's answer blindsided you. You weren't expecting that.

But what he said next, well, that rendered you speechless.

His baby blue eyes met yours as he poured out his blackened soul to you. His fingers threaded with yours as he confessed, “I was terrified that you weren't going to make it, Y/N. I was afraid that I'd have to go through the pain of heartbreak all over again.”

Your eyes widened at his words. Heartbreak? Did that mean…

“The first time I fell in love it was 7 years ago, when I was Lucy Gray’s mentor.”

You didn't need to hear that. You already knew he fell for her. Hell, everyone that was in the Top 24 of the Academy graduating class of 10 ADD knew that (yourself included).

Great, so he was going to tell you that he was still hung up on his lost first love while you lay in the hospital bed? What a cold hearted man you were married to. Hell, why would he even do that.

A glazed over look appeared in his eyes and his baritone grew tight. “I nearly destroyed my entire life for her. For love. And you know where it got me? Heartbroken, used up, betrayed, and alone.”

“Corio-”, You began, not understanding where he was coming from, only for him to interrupt you with the simple request of, “Please, call me Coryo.”

You nodded, prompting him to continue his holy confession, “Lucy Gray and her love left me feeling like a fool. I hated feeling like that and swore that I'd never let myself feel that way again. That I’d never fall in love again.” Coryo's thumb brushed over your knuckles. “I swore to marry a woman that I could never love, but only hate in order to never feel weak, broken, humiliated, and manipulated again.”

Great…so now it's confirmed that he hates you. You always suspected it, but now you know the truth for sure. You swallowed down a lump in your truth and softly said, “I understand, Coryo.”

“No, I don't think you do, darling.” Your husband shook his head, making his blonde curls rustle around. “I hate myself for loving you, my darling rose, because you have the power to destroy me if you wish.”

“Y-you love me?” You gasped as tears began to tickle your eyes.

“Yes.” Your husband smiled. “Very much and it frightens me because of what happened between me and that manipulative bitch all those years ago.”

Oh wow…Lucy Gray sure did do a number on your husband. Oh, if you ever got your hands on her, you'd rip hair hair out and claw her eyes out for the emotional turmoil she put Coriolanus through. If it wasn't for her breaking his heart so badly, you would’ve had a better marriage.

“I love you too, Coryo, and I'll never hurt you the way she did.’ You promised your husband.

“You better not or else I'll burn down all of Panem this time in the wake of my heartbreak.” Your husband teased before pressing a kiss to your lips.

A kiss filled with every single emotion he's ever held back from you these last few months. His lips fit perfectly against yours as he drank in your soul with every moment they made against yours.

You broke apart whenever you heard a nurse loudly clearing her throat. Once you looked to the woman, she smiled and simply said, ‘I’m glad to see you're up, Mrs. Snow. How would you like to see your son?”

3 Months Later…

The way Cassian Xandros Snow entered the world was very dramatic but you wouldn't change a thing about it. In fact, if it wasn't for his dramatic birth then you and your husband might have gone your entire lives without confessing the love you have for each other.

Oh, that would've been horrible.

You were sitting in a white glider, rocking your son to sleep after feeding him, whenever the sound of barefeet slapping against the marble floor made you look up towards the doorway.

“Happy anniversary, darling.” Coriolanus smiled, single pink rose in his hand, as he walked into the nursery.

*Happy Anniversary, Coryo.” You smiled back, watching your husband as he made his way over to your side. Flickering your eyes between the pink rose and his icy blue eyes, you remarked, “I was expecting a white rose, not a pink one.”

“Yes, well, it's only fitting that I give you a pink rose today. After all, pink roses are your favorite; the white ones are mine.”

“How did you know that? I never told you?”

“I can be quite observant and a bit obsessive when I'm in love.” Was Coriolanus' answer as he passed you the rose, only to take your son into his arms.

Pecking your husband on his plush lips, you honestly told him, “And I wouldn't want you any other way, Coryo.”

Because, honestly, you preferred his obsessive love over his cold and distant hate. After experiencing both, well, you quickly discovered that it was better to be the center of Coriolanus Snow's world than to not be in it at all.

He hated that he loved you, but you loved that he loved you.

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bbgghost · 6 days ago

Text

not a lot, just forever

I could be a good mother/and I want to be your wife

summary: coriolanus ruled out love when lucy gray betrayed him. that didn’t stop you though.

AN: there are brief and mild sexual references, fluff to angst, course language. some judgements made about the reader are from coriolanus' point of view, he is overall not a good man lols!!!, tbosas spoilers

after coriolanus’ return from district 12, and his inevitable integration back into capitol society, he had let himself be thrown into his latest piece of work. he worked under gaul for many months within the marble walls of the university, learning and being mentored until eventually, he found himself with a new job. this job, was right underneath the president.

president ravinstill was a highly placed person within society, who - as he was involved with academy - watched his downfall after the 10th annual hunger games. he was shocked to be in placed this position, despite the plinth’s excessive riches. he was even more shocked to take notice of you, in the secretary position for the president himself.

you were not the brightest of students, but you still had a spot within the academy. and this was a school only the prestigious and their descendants were taught in. he had noticed, through this many years attending said school, that you had an innate love for reading. one of his most vivid memories of you included you holding a book open with one hand, while eating a soft slice of bread spread with something he new was expensive. it was sweet and golden and reflected in the scarce sunlight in a similar way to your hair.

now you sat in a wooden chair, at a similarly wooden desk littered with papers, a phone and a small clock that clicked away as he walked up to your desk. “good morning miss.” he stated politely. you looked up from your planner that rested open and covered with notes. “and to you, mr snow.” you had said with a smile. “did you have an appointment or did you need me to call him?” you continued. “i should have one, i rang yesterday.” he said.

you blushed at your mistake. you’d muttered an apology and a flicked to the page marked with todays date. you picked the phone up and said in a sweet voice, “you’re nine o’clock is here, president.” and after hearing a small grumbling on the other side, coriolanus allowed himself to enter the office.

this has continued for several weeks, you playing the dutiful role of secretary, and he the humble visitor. it took a strange turn as the presidents health did too. you had began to work more, longer hours and more work was given to you. this did not go unnoticed by coriolanus, as when attempting to request a meeting, he found his call was put on hold. this usually never happened, as he always tried to call at times when others wouldn’t. this was not a one off incident, and in some act of pride, he often hung up before he even made it to his call being taken.

fed up with the disrespect he felt he was dealing with, he turned up to your office at 9 o’clock in the morning, his usual meeting time. “oh, sir.” you had greeted him, a clear furrow in your brow. “hello darling. i imagine the president isn’t interested in visitors right now.” he said looked at your standing figure as you flitted through pages of multiple books. “he’s very ill, i can imagine you know.” you said with a dry laugh that he returned.

“did you need any- oh.” he had began before a precarious stack of papers had fallen off the floor. he kneeled down and quickly grabbed as many as he could, you following in suit. he took notice of your slightly delayed reaction, and looked up from the floor to stare at you. deep blue and purple bags rest under your eyes, indicating to him what was clear. the presidents illness was almost contagious, not physically, but mentally.

“maybe you should go home.” he insisted. he saw a hint of panic in your eyes and your chest heaved more if you could. to make sure you didn’t think he was firing you, he added, “…or i can help you for a day until you are better.”

“oh, i’m not sick mr. snow.” you said humorously, but without a smile nor a laugh. “let me help you with your duties, i can clear my calendar.” he said and immediately grabbed for the phone before you could protest.

after calling his own secretary, which was more just an unpaid intern that’s passions were being ignored for the better of people like snow, he turned to you. you bit your lip at him, like a child, he thought. “i’m not sure where to start.” you said. he grabbed the planner from your hands and placed in on one of the waiting chairs before rounding the desk and standing next to you.

“i say we try tidying, then see what we can do from there.” he suggested. you nodded and huffed before grabbing a waste basket and grabbing paper after paper. he has to question you after different papers, but began learning new information as he skimmed over each document, letter and draft he read. “i had no idea that the creed family were building houses!” he exclaimed. “neither did i…” you trailed off. he felt you peek over his shoulder, so he tilted out the paper, confident in himself that you wouldn’t be able to see no matter how high your heels may be.

“oh my god, it’s all in his sons name. my that’s a price!” you laughed, finally without a bitterness and instead with a smile. he smirked at the sight. “i’m sure me and you could beat that number.” he said, staring down at your very close figure. “oh you maybe, with the smarts and the money and the… looks.” you whispered that final word. “oh sorry?” he asked putting the document down, properly turning to you.

you shyly smiled and turned away. “you have it all coriolanus, i can’t wait to see you in higher places, with a struggling secretary like me.” he smiled kindly, finding the moment to be rather intimate. “well not yet. i’m not sure what my next step is.” he said softly, grabbing the end of your jacket to fidget with. the behaviour was almost childish, but from coriolanus snow, it was a means of authority.

“presidency, i say.” you said with a smirk. he lifted his head to look at you intently, trying to understand if you were joking or not. “how about you focus on your schedule, not my future.” he said, and let go of you to walk around your desk. you swallowed your pride and smiled at him as he returned your schedule to your now clean desk. you sat in your chair and picked a pen from your jar. “when do you next need to see the president?” you asked.

“tomorrow, if possible. you know my preferred time.” his usual smirk rested on his face. you stole a cheeky glance before penning him for his requested time. “perfect. see you then.” and then he turned to leave.

the following day, the president had to be moved to the hospital - now in critical condition, he could no longer be held in his own quarters. you hadn’t been able to call coriolanus in time, and instead you had to wait for his arrival. when he came to your desk again, and politely greeted you, you began.

“i’m so sorry i couldn’t call, they only informed a half hour ago! these people are ridiculous, i apologise for the inconvenience - i know how the travel is around the capitol these days.” you didn’t know he was being privately chauffeured, but you seemed to like him more if you thought he was poorer. not that he was rich, he was quite the contrary, he just happened to be blessed with the plinths luck (or rather their money).

“don’t worry darling. i don’t blame you the slightest.” he hummed and sat in one the the upholstered seats. you looked at him confused, and he raised his brows in amusement. “…was there something you needed?” you asked. he hummed again, and flicked his wrist to check his watch. “well i cleared my calendar for this event, and i have nothing better to do.”

“so you’re staying here?”

“i’m staying here.”

“i’m not sure when i can-“

“just do your duties.”

following his commands, your head shot down as quick as possible. he grinned with pride as he opened his briefcase to retrieve a document he still needed to read. he liked the free time, and when his eyes got sore, he was able to look at you to ease them. you lip between your teeth, your brows furrowed and you pen softly tapping against a book in thought. it continued like this until lunch, in which you stood slowly and announced the time.

he laughed openly, acknowledging that he had been here for over three hours but felt no different then he did before, besides slightly hungry. “well then, what do you usually do for lunch?” he asked. you have him a confused look before excusing yourself. you left the room before coming back with a red headed avox, who held a notepad opened in his shaky hands.

“i’ll just have a small salad and a glass of iced tea please. snow?” you had said softly. “i’ll have the same.” he smirked at you. within minutes the desk had been cleared so that you both could comfortably eat your lunches facing each other. “have you received any more information about the president?” he asked. “only that he’s critical. a stroke i believe.” he nodded.

“were you serious?” he placed his fork down and stared at you. “about what sir?” he swallowed at the formal name. “yesterday you said presidency. you believe i could win?” he didn’t want to sound timid, he wasn’t. he knew he wasn’t merely making conversation either, maybe he even valued your opinion. “oh, i believe you could do anything.” you said, half-jokingly. he cocked his eyebrow at you. “oh yeah?”

you giggled and looked back into your food, your hair falling in your face. “name another thing i could do, huh?” he challenged you. you returned his smirk and looked towards him. “don’t start something you can’t finish.” he looked you up and down as you said this. he allowed himself to admire you. tall and pretty, with beautiful features and eyes that glimmered with mischief. you felt his stare prickle your skin.

“oh i bet i’ll finish darling, don’t you worry.” your eyes widened at his forward ness, you mouth hanging open in a gasp. you stood and stacked your plates, allowing your hair to fall in front of your face to hide a warm blush that spread from your cheeks to your nose. he could still see it though. a familiar ache began between his legs as he watched you eagerly. you carried the plates out to the avoxs before sitting back down across from him. he had leaned back at this point, but still kept a close eye on you. the blush on your face had failed to leave.

you began to admit to yourself that you found him quite attractive. he was authoritative, handsome and fit after his peacekeeper training. you had noticed him in the academy, despite your constant avoidance of him. you had had a childhood fantasy of living your life out as an adult as a wife for a wealthy man that stood tall, and maybe even with short blonde curls. you never told anybody, no matter how many conversations on metal benches or at sleepovers.

but now as you say across from the apparent man of your dreams, older and wiser, you now wanted to tell. you wanted to let him and others know of your affection and want for coriolanus snow. you only hoped he would reciprocate.

you opened your folder. he felt the heave of rejection in his chest, bringing forth both new and harsh emotions. “sweetheart, i…” he began. you looked up, biting your lip. “what’s wrong?” you asked with false innocence. he grunt at that, low and passionately. your eyes skimmed over his body and he squirmed a little in his seat. “don’t be a tease.” he said.

you stood from your desk slowly. you wanted to follow his orders completely, i mean you didn’t want to be seen as a tease in his mind! no, you must be dutiful - like a good secretary. his wide eyes followed your figure as you rounded the desk and stood between his legs. you reached out to grab his tie, stretching it out ready to pull towards you.

————————————————————————

almost months later, you sat in the secretary position for the newest president of panem, coriolanus snow. he was proud and authoritative, and you enjoyed being under his care. he ran the country differently to ravinstill, and treated you with a lot more tenderness than he did too. he often invited you to eat with him, and often you fulfilled other duties for him too. duties that could only be performed behind closed doors.

as usual, you opened your binder - which was much more expensive than your last - to todays date. you read through notes made my coriolanus himself into your book. your eyes stopped, you heart ached, tears welled. livia? and her stupid parents? what in the world did she need to have a meeting about marriage with him for? was he not satisfied? oh god.

a thick fluid seemed to fill the bottom of your throat, but you swallowed harshly, pushing it down to create an uncomfortable strain. you clapped the book shut and threw your pen across the room so it hit the door. you felt childish. god how could you not realise? you were just an object, a piece similarly used in mens clubs. you hated yourself, but you flattened your skirt as your rose from your chair. picking the pen from the floor and turning around.

you heard the click of the handle and then the strain of the door as a well dressed snow walked up to his office, conveniently joined to yours. “good morning, dear.” you only huffed in response. he almost made it to the door of his own room before he turned with a familiar smirk. your arms wrapped around your torso in an attempt for comfort. “something wrong?” he asked, with humour in his tone.

you really were a child, you guessed. you rolled you eyes and walked to your desk, grabbing a tissue as you sat. “just tell me. don’t lie. i’m sick of your lies.” he set his briefcase of your desk and looked at you angrily. “what in the world could you be on about right now?”

“your meeting! with the stupid blonde.” you cried as you brought your wrists to cover your eyes. he let out a harsh breath through his nose as he tried to restrain himself. “you’re being ridiculous.”

“no i am not!” you said shortly before a sob racked your body. why were you so attached to him? why was this making you so upset? he guessed it was you just menstruating, but he keenly ruled it out as he remembered the calendar he made you make. “you had to have known this by now.”

“coriolanus i love you. don’t you understand?”

“i don’t want love. i’m going to marry her for other reasons. all i need from a woman is an heir, and she also has the benefit of political improvement. you must know this.”

“i could be a good mother. and i want to be your wife! screw her and her politics.”

your confession met seemingly nothing in his eyes, you thought. but what you didn’t know was it meant everything. he was horribly stubborn about it, but he didn’t want anything but money, power and glory - at least he convinced himself he did. “you’ll just get in the way…”

“what?” you said with soft pain. “she’s marrying me. and that is the end of that.” he said with such finality you couldn’t help but let another sob wreck your body. she was so beautiful. you felt so minimal compared to her, so stupid and like some common whore he was ready to chuck out. “you’re horrible.”

he watched you sob and through your tears he only stared. “i’m just doing what’s good for this country.” he swallowed after saying this. you stood up abruptly and moved towards him. he moved with you, stunned and confused as he was pushed into the wall. he was taller than you but you hoped this made him feel even an inch smaller. “don’t you fucking lie to me.” you croaked.

his nostrils flared as you looked up at him. you grabbed the pocket knife you know he kept in his pocket. the cold marble against your flushed skin grounded you, but didn’t stop you from pressing it against his throat. he gulped against your wrist. “what do you-“ he was cut off by his own grunt as you shoved your hand harsher. he moved his hands to grab your waist softly. you know he could pick you up and throw you if he wanted to - it would be so easy.

“baby. come on.” he whispered, which made your tears only come more heavy. your grip loosened and he took advantage of that and grabbed your hands. he held them by your side as he stared deeply into your eyes. tears still flowed from him which made him feel weird - why was he reacting to them at all? you were just some girl that sucked him off. that’s all. right?

“fuck you, calling me baby.” you whispered. “we can still be together, you know that.” he told you. “but you’ll never marry me.” he bit his lip and put his knife back in his pocket. he moved you to sit on your own desk, and obediently he followed. he grabbed to tissues to wipe your tears away. you submitted to his soft actions, despite knowing he was never going to care for you like you cared for him.

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