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livelaughlovesubs · 1 month ago

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~ 04.10 - Neuvillette ~

Dom!reader x sub!Neuvillette - reader is gender neutral

Warning: boss (neuvi) /assistant (us) relationship, neuvi & reader are both virgins~, vent fingering, bathtub, heat (implied), dragon anatomy, rubbing his dicks together, mind break, sub space, breaking into his house (lol)

~ Word count: 6.8k ~

Nini!rant: special thanks to @sh1-n0bu for explaining her reptile kink to me <3

Kinktober list 2024

It was sunny on that day, no clouds were in sight, only the clear blue sky could be seen. The bustling sounds of the people are echoing from every corner, whispers akin to the buzzing of bees reached your ears. “Did you hear…” one of the shopkeepers murmured, “our archon, she…” another person commented. As always, people seemed to love gossip or rumors.

You couldn’t blame them, their curiosity was justified. Normally you would have wanted to eavesdrop a little more, but not this time, because you had other things to worry about. Today you were going to get a different position at work, all you hoped for was that it wouldn’t be worse than the previous one. You took the elevator upstairs, then made your way to your workplace, where you’ll have to deal with nasty higher-ups again.

If it were for you, you’d fire them all, every single one of them couldn’t do anything yet bosses their subordinates around like they are worth less than dirt. Not to mention all those unreasonable rules, who in their right mind would remember them all? After a short walk, you reached the Palais Mermonia. Hectic footsteps emerged from the building, the source was without fail beneath that unnecessarily huge door. With a final sigh, you opened that door and went inside.

First things first, since they told you that you were going to go to a new department, you had to wait in front of the office of your boss until he assigned you a new role. He was the chief justice of fontain and thus had his own room. It was the last chamber on the right. When it was finally your turn, you heard someone else opening the heavy entrance and walking in. No, not just one, many people, a big group of them, alongside photographers snapping pictures.

That wasn’t your business, so you ignored it and went on with your own life. You put on a fake smile as you greeted that old, insufferable boss of yours, “Good morning Monsieur, what can I do for you?” Your soft and calm tone, honed to perfection, was as flawless as ever. Not a single soul could guess your true feelings beneath that facade. Slowly you got closer to his desk, and he finally notices you.

“You are here, y/n.” He noted, without returning your greeting. “You know you are getting a new job, an important one at that. Don’t fail me.” That man said as he stared right into your eyes, a poor try to intimidate you. “Yes, I understand. May I know the nature of my work?” Despite his impoliteness, you replied in a professional manner. In truth you were sick and tired of this, why did they always have to beat around the bush? It was such a waste of time.

If in the end you have to work overtime because this superior of yours won’t stop yapping, you were really going to throw hands.

“You will see soon.” He said and pointed toward the couch on the left side of the room. You sat down on it soon after, not questioning all this strange behavior. How you hated this, but regrettably the pay was too good. After a short while, the door opened, and the crowd's screams seeped into the room. It got muffled again when the door got closed, the only sounds remaining were the footsteps of two individuals.

You didn’t think much about it and stayed seated, your boss on the other hand got up immediately and welcomed the two guests with open arms. He put on a cheerful air as he said, “Welcome! Thank you for taking the time to visit this humble place, our dearest hydro archon! You as well… errr.. Monsieur!”

Wait what?

Did you hear that right? The hydro archon, focalor? What is she doing here! How could it be that someone like you would be granted the chance to meet her in such a close and intimate setting? This has to be a joke, this has to be- “no need to thank us, please, I have to be the modest one in this situation.” She spoke, her voice was soft like silk, she’d be a great singer. “No way, I’d never dare to disrespect our archon like that. Y/n, you come here too and greet our archon!”

You heard that man call out to you, so you hurried over. There she was, a lady with beautiful long silver-white hair who owned a strong aura. This was no joke, she was the real deal. “Please excuse this citizen, I humbly greet the hydro archon.” You bowed, trying your utmost to be the best version of yourself. From the corners of your eyes, you saw a tall male standing behind the archon. He also looked important, as well as strong.

The way he stood there was confident and serious, something about him told you he wasn’t human. That feeling was supported by his appearance. Putting aside the fact that he was astonishingly beautiful, his hair was also long and white, and some blue strands could be seen on top of his head. Also, he was definitely filthy rich, his clothes were the top quality and looked like the meticulous work of a private designer. Just what did you put yourself into?

Focalor smiled gently, a parent-like smile as she spoke, “It’s alright, I should thank you for taking care of my friend here. Please do your best.” Now you were genuinely confused, this was beyond your comprehension. Was it something only high-ranking people understand? Was it a quiz? You don’t remember helping someone whose Titel was the friend of an archon.

Before you got the time to ponder over her words, she already explained it, saying, “From today onwards, my friend here will take over the job of chief justice. That means you’ll work under his command. But you see, he isn’t good with people, so I’d like to ask you to take care of him.” If this man here will become the new judge, then… you turned over to your now ex-superior, staring at him blankly. “I’ll retire soon, work hard y/n.” He said while smiling irritatingly, before patting you on the shoulder, as if he’s proud of you or something.

How you despised him. Did this really have to happen so spontaneously? Couldn’t they have given you a goddamn warning? A heads-up? You couldn’t get angry though, not in the presence of your deity. “I.. ehm, I accept this job with great gratitude.” You eventually uttered, not knowing what to do in such a situation. Well, you didn’t have a choice, did you?

“Good, how fabulous, then may I request for you to leave the room first?” The archon said as she turned over to look at your ex-boss, and he rushed out of the room just like how he rushed to them the moment he heard their footsteps. Somehow you wished he stayed because it was really suffocating standing there on your own. “I only have one more thing to discuss with you.” Focalor stated, before continuing with, “Can I ask you for a favor?”

You nodded in agreement, replying with a yes. “Could you teach him how to behave like a human? As you probably noticed, he isn’t of the same race as you, but I’d like for him to live among humans freely.” She smiled widely again, bringing forth a sense of comfort. Despite that, you were still hesitant and on edge. The words she voiced out; not human, teaching… it sounds like you’ll have a lot of extra work in the future. Also, how do you teach someone how to be human? Isn't it more of an instinct kind of thing, do you just tell him to have common sense?

“Great! It put me at ease to see my friend here got such a caring assistant, please take care of him in my stead.” Your archon smiled brightly, waving the other person goodbye as she left. Now this is awkward. You were standing face to face with your new superior, someone who was way more important than your previous boss. How great, this is only increasing the pressure at work. With a final sigh, you swallowed the nervousness down and began introducing yourself, “Nice to meet you, I’m y/n, and from today onwards I am your assistant, feel free to ask me anything.”

This should suffice, right? You had to adapt to your new position very quickly, to not seem unreliable, all you hoped for was that he wouldn’t be worse than the last one. “My name is Neuvillette, I’ll be in your care then.” He said while looking at you with his pretty eyes. His eye makeup was very beautiful, or were these markings?

Nonetheless, he was quite the eye candy compared to your ex-boss. Suddenly another concern popped up in your mind, what if he’s a player, or super arrogant? You quickly threw away these thoughts, it would be unfair to judge someone based on their appearance alone. Even though you still hesitated, you forced out a bright smile as always and uttered, “I’ll show you what kind of work you can expect.”

Contrary to what you feared, Neuvillette was very hard-working. He really wanted to do this job well, and he adapted to the position of chief justice very quickly as well. Less than a week later, he was ready to take on court cases and judge the convicts by himself. On the other hand, he didn’t understand humans and their emotions at all. It was difficult for him to learn their manners, especially the meaning of empathy.

He understood the basic concepts, like if someone lost something then they’d be sad. But why should their friend grieve with them as well, they didn't lose anything right? One of his problems was that he couldn’t read between the lines, so if someone didn’t tell him how they felt, he wouldn’t have the slightest clue.

You thought it was due to his rather emotionless nature since he never seemed happy or sad before. He always wore this serious and nonchalant expression, carrying out his duties with the utmost professionalism. He was the perfect judge who stayed clearheaded in every situation, and he was also a great superior. Just saying but, gosh, he finished his work so quickly it was amazing. Also one of the first things you taught him was how to be nice to one’s subordinates, and he’s been following your advice nicely.

Honestly? You enjoyed working under him. Your pay got raised, and you got to take care of a pretty boy. Sure, the hours increased by a bit, but it wasn’t as dramatic as you thought. Sometimes you’d even bring him lunch because you liked his attitude and wanted him to stay until you retire. It was also quite funny how dense he was, things that were normal for you were weird for him. Whenever you saw his perplexed face while studying humans, you couldn't help but chuckle under your breath.

One thing that you noticed after he came to fontain was how the weather worsened. Fontain wasn’t known for having long periods of bad weather, so it was strange how much it rained lately. Well, who knows, it probably doesn’t have a logical explanation behind it anyway. For now, you had to organize these court documents before handing them to 'monsieur' Neuvillette again, humming to yourself as you looked over them. Check.. and check, huh, looking good.

Now you had to find him, where could he be? He wasn’t at the Palais Mermonia, so perhaps he went on a walk? Or was he at his home? The next judgment was going to start in less than an hour, and the chief justice always had to arrive early, even if technically everyone would wait for him to start.

He mentioned to you before how he wished to do his work seriously, and that you had permission to do whatever to teach him if necessary. That’s why you were at his doorstep, knocking on the door while sweat formed on your forehead. You ran all the way here since you didn’t want his reputation to be tarnished by being late. The two of you would need to go to the opera house later as well, and that will take some time too. “Excuse me, Monsieur Neuvillette…?” You called out to him, no response. Weird.

Should you try and look through the windows? Or maybe he’s at the opera house already? That could be it, he has never been late after all. Before leaving completely, you tried to open the door just as a last resort, turning the doorknob. To your surprise, it opened, so the door wasn’t locked. “Huh..?” You gasped, feeling a little nervous now. Why was his door not locked, and should you really just walk inside? After pondering over it for a while you came to the conclusion, well, why not! If he was there, then you’ll quickly get him, and if not you’ll act like it never happened.

Since your reason was important as well, it should be all alright, right? With that being said, you carefully slandered through the halls of his house. His home was very modest, it didn’t reflect his position at all. With his authority, he could have gotten himself a mansion, but he settled for average? Nonetheless, you kept going, opening the doors carefully as if they were out of porcelain. Until you heard a noise. It was muffled through what seemed like a door, was Neuvillette still there or it was an intruder? Somehow you didn’t want to take another step anymore.

You eventually reached the root of the noise, and more sounds emerged from behind the door. It kind of gave you Deja vu, but you weren’t sure what exactly. After much consideration, you just simply opened that door, and warm air instantly hit your face. The room was so hot and full of condensed water, was it a bathroom or sauna?

You squeezed your eyes shut, then blindly entered the room, hands fluttering around to try and find something to hold on to. Then you touched something akin to porcelain, or was it acrylic? When you opened your eyes again, you stood right in front of Monsieur Neuvillette, who seemed to be sleeping in the bathtub. All naked.

It was an understatement to say you were stunned. You were so speechless that you didn’t move for a good minute. What should you do? He is sleeping and hasn’t noticed you yet, should you just wake him up? But this situation was kind of inappropriate. After all, you just intruded into his home and invaded his privacy. Time seemed to pass so slowly, yet you still haven’t come to a conclusion. In the end, you decided to stop being such a wimp and wake him up, then apologize to him a thousand times.

When you gradually got closer to him, you got a better look at his body. His skin was so perfect, smooth, and pale, like these models in magazines. Though he had scales located near his pelvis, which you thought was fascinating. So, when the hydro archon said ‘not human’, she meant a mermaid? There were no mermaid tails to see, perhaps he’s hiding them? Damn, how curious you were, even so, you decided to ask him later since you had other problems at hand. Gently, you nudged his body, hoping that would be enough to wake him up.

Nothing happened.

Then, you shook his shoulder, trying to be tender with him. Still nothing. You sighed, asking yourself what to do. A few moments later his eyelids twitched, and it shocked you to the core, you felt your soul leaving your body for a split second. Now that it has come to this, you were kind of embarrassed. Waiting patiently for him to notice your presence. “Uh.. y/n? What are you doing here?” Neuvillette asked, eyes still half-lidded as he slowly turned to look at you.

“I’m so sorry, Monsieur Neuvillette, but we have a court case in a few-” You stopped abruptly, noticing how his face was all red. “Are you alright, sir?!” In the blink of an eye, you reached out to his face and pressed your palm against his forehead, testing his temperature with your hand. He was burning, did he get a fever or was it because of the water? “This doesn’t look good.. should I postpone the court case?” You mumbled under your breath and pulled your hand back, not noticing the slight blush on his cheeks at your bold moves.

To your surprise, the male commented, “Your hand.. it’s cold, it feels nice.” It seems he really is sick, damn it, you should have taken better care of him. He probably got sick because he worked too much. “I’ll call a doctor, please wait a second.” You proposed, but he denied your idea. “It’s not a big deal, it’s probably because I've been bathing in hot water.” The boy said and stared up at you, his lashes were all wet just like his hair.

Despite the guilt gnawing at you, you had to admit he looked irresistible right now, and the fact that he was all naked was not helping. After more hesitation, your desire won against your reason, and your consciousness was killing you. Should you really do this? You kept asking yourself that question. The thing you were going to do, was it morally correct?

Before you found the answer to that question, you opened your mouth and said half-jokingly, "I understand. But, Monsieur Neuvillette, did you know? There is a very unique human custom that you haven't learned yet." His eyes widened a little, head tilted to the side as he mumbled, "Yes? And what is it?" You swallowed the guilt down your throat and responded, "Our current situation fits the requirements, so following that tradition.. uhm... we could do something… fun, if you want." Look at that unsure tone in your voice, were you trying to convince him or yourself?

Neuvillette looked at you in confusion, waiting for you to continue your story. Eventually, you did exactly that, whispering in a low voice, "It means I could, if you allow it… er, t-touch here..." Out of nowhere, your hand reached downwards, and the sound of water splashing around followed close behind. “Somewhere around here.” He could feel your fingertips brush over his pelvis, and a dark blush covered his face. "I-I see, is it... um, really a custom?" The male shyly looked away, he wasn't sure what to think about this, was it really a cultural thing?

At the same time, he was curious, he wanted to know how humans interacted and worked, so he had to experience it firsthand to understand them. "We don't have to if you don't want to try." You quickly told him, hoping that he was oblivious enough to believe that crazy story. Instead of agreeing, Neuvillette grabbed your wrist and brought it to his crotch. His cheeks were even redder than before as he admitted, "I— I want to try then... I want to learn more about humans."

You could swear you were getting dizzy as well, feeling your cheeks heat up at the sweet voice and erotic display of the male. The uncomfortable yet determined look on his face, and how his body was subconsciously begging you to touch him. Even so, he was your boss, should you really do something like this with him? Your hand kept lingering over his private area, itching to touch him but too worried to actually do it. “Hurry up..” he groaned, and any concerns you had dissipated. “Then.. please lay back and leave it to me.”

Gently, you told Neuvillette to let go of your wrist, and he stayed put all obediently. Seeing how easily he did as you said sent a shiver down your spine, and you started rubbing his belly, causing him to tremble slightly. Neuvillette closed his eyes and sealed his lips together. Your touches moved slowly but surely lower, until your delicate fingertips caressed the baby blue scales above his vent. His breath hitched in his throat, anticipation filling him as well as fear. From that moment onwards, he was yours. His heart beat like crazy, and all because of you, only for you.

On the other hand, you were amazed with his anatomy. The scales were hard and sturdy, but the more you rubbed those beautiful things, the more they softened. It only took a short moment before the male started panting quietly, eyes still pressed into a thin line as he refused to look at you, all due to his own embarrassment.

How cute, you thought. The way he was underneath you with his face flushed like some love-struck maiden encouraged you to go further. This was also how you found out his eyeliner wasn't makeup instead he was born that way. What a beautiful being he was, so breathtaking that he could be an angel sent from the heavens.

The water was clear like glass, you could see everything through it, from his vent to his milky thighs, all of it was laid bare for your eyes to feast on. At first, you wondered if he had a cunt since it looked like one but also not. It didn't bother you in the slightest though. Later on, when you got to the point where you caressed the scales right on his lips, you saw how two dicks slowly emerge from that slit. As if they grew inside him, to the point they were noticeable from the outside.

Right, if that wasn't astonishing enough, there were two? Hah, how incredible! He was really different from humans, and it only intrigued you even more. Neuvillette on the other hand looked so embarrassed, he was never this exposed to anyone, and he also never touched himself there. So you are the first to explore that area, to see this vulnerable, emotional side of his. His expressions were just so pretty~

The fact that he had two dicks was extraordinary, no doubt, but for now you were more invested in that vent of his. With little caresses that were akin to the soft crawls of a kitten without claws, you rubbed the edge of his cunt. "Uh- uhm..! Y/n, please be gen-gentle with me..." He pleaded in a weak voice, hands thrown over his mouth to hide his humiliating noises.

You nodded before caressing that part of him in earnest, and it was so soft, it was way softer than what you imagined. Honestly, you couldn’t even believe what the heck you were doing right now. Playing with him like this, the sheer audacity got you all nervous and lustful. This power struggle was really hot in your opinion. How did things even come to this point? He was only taking a bath, so how are you suddenly doing inappropriate things with him?

The only annoying thing was the water because it kept washing away his natural lubricants. God, you wanted to do so many things to him, to your boss nonetheless, you were so shameless. Then an idea crossed your mind, could you perhaps fit your finger inside that space? Why not try it out..? Gently, or as gently as you could since you had to squeeze a little, you managed to stick your middle finger inside him. It wasn’t even fully in him, yet he was already gasping and moaning.

Hands clenched around the edge of the bathtub, enough for his veins to become noticeable. His insides were so soft and squishy, and the way the edges clenched around your fingers as well as how his dicks twitched was just so erotic. The scales on either side were shining like peals, they had long become soft unlike before. You licked your bottom lip, feeling a sense of lust course through your body.

His pleasure-ridden expression brought you further down this hypnotizing feeling of want and need. “Wha-what is this..?” Neuvillette gasped, gazing at you with a look of confusion and embarrassment. Is this how it is supposed to feel? He did want you to touch him, but this was kind of shameful, yet he didn’t know why. It just felt inappropriate but amazing, he's not even sure if he should stop it or encourage you.

“Y/n… ah, I, mhmm!!” Right before he finished his sentence, you pushed your finger deeper into him, until your digit was buried in his vent to the knuckles. This was quite the fight, though it was worth it. His mouth hung wide open at this point and his entire being was shaking in ecstasy. After making sure he was doing alright, to some extent, you started moving your finger.

Of course, the poor and innocent Monsieur who had never had anyone touch him there yelped in surprise, he didn’t even know you could reach that deep inside! Oh but now he feels like he was being stretched to his limit, and filled to the brim. There was no way he could take any more than this, there was just no way. Your fingers felt so good, he was too ashamed to admit but he loved the feeling of clenching around them, that was all he knew.

He didn’t know the reason why it felt good, nor why he liked it, so he blamed it all on his instincts. "So this is why humans have this custom, it's because it feels so hot and, good..." Neuvillette uttered under his breath, drool was handing out from his lips already. Suddenly you curled them slightly, to press and poke at his soft walls. “Ah-…ah.?!” The dragon couldn’t help but mewl again, his thighs were trembling, causing the water inside the bathtub to splash around.

“This is so fun, isn't it, Monsieur Neuvillette~" You teased while pleasuring him with your finger. "Hu-huh..? uhh- I think so.. er, please address me in-informally in these settings..." He suddenly said, seemingly flustered at the fact that you were using his official title. His adorable words were so cute that you couldn't help yourself again, leading to you rubbing his spongy insides. “HnnGH!! Please… no mo-more..” the male then begged you so sweetly you thought you were going to overdose.

What a pitiful guy, tears were collecting in the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill at literally anything. Then it started to rain, the sound of soft raindrops hitting against the bathroom window served as nature's background music for you. “Aw, you want me to stop, Neuvillette?” His two dicks both twitched at the mere mention of his name, precum collecting around his aquamarine tip. Now that you mentioned it, his cocks were fading into blue from his base onwards.

On another note, Neuvi would have been all sticky with precum now if it wasn’t for the water neutralizing it. “I-I mean.. uhh, no, don’t stop haaah...” The male gently placed his hand on top of yours, trying to keep your touch from leaving his body. “I don’t plan on.” You admitted, then used your other hand to jerk off his dicks, taking both with one hand and rubbing them against each other.

“UgGhHH..!! Too much, too- mhm..!” He complained again, to which you responded with, “Aw, don’t be such a fuss, doesn’t it feel good?” There was no denying it because both of you knew he liked it a lot, his expressions revealed it all. “Nghh, i.. I mean-, uhMMm!” It almost annoyed him how his own moans kept interrupting his sentences. Seriously, it was difficult enough to talk and think about how to form coherent sentences, and then his humiliating whines just had to ruin it.

You were enjoying yourself. Oh, you definitely were. His beautiful silver hair was soaked in the water, shining as if stars descended just to decorate his locks. That handsome face of his was tainted with a bright pink, a huge contrast to his normally pale complexion. The tears which were on the verge of falling finally rolled down his cheeks, or was it just the water of the bathtub? Nonetheless, he looked pretty damn erotic in that moment, so beautiful you were dazed.

Neuvillette noticed you staring, which is why he avoided your gaze, feeling too ashamed to hold eye contact. Yes, he felt hot and was craving whatever you could give him, but this side of his was simply too pathetic and lewd! Gradually, the sound and intensity of the rain increased. It kept hitting the window, so you could hear how it got louder and louder, people also started to run under random roofs to keep themselves dry. After you were sure he got used to your finger, you tried to add another one.

“AhHhh! Mhm, no..! There is no-no space left...!” Once again he was trashing around, complaining, making water spill over, wetting you in the process. “Shh, it’s alright, you can do it Neuvillette, I’m sure you can.” You whispered some words of encouragement to him, praising him while you were at it. He heeded your words, trying hard to accommodate your second digit, because he wanted to do it for you. Eventually, he managed to fit both of them inside, even if it was a long journey, “Ah- ahh.. this is, mHffFhm.. your fingers feel to-too gooood♡♥︎?!”

The boy groaned and whimpered, sobbing behind a face of uncontrollable lust. Each of his moans were a blessing from the heavens for your ears, making your heart flutter as if you were going to enter paradise. He was such an angel after all, wasn’t he? That gorgeous white hair he got could be mistaken as a trait of an angel, not to mention his pure and virtuous personality, if he told you he was an envoy of god you would have believed him with no doubts.

“So stunning.” After thinking all of that, you couldn’t help but compliment him again, all while you stretched his vent with all the tenderness in the world. “NGhHh.. m- uhhmm, y/n, please, I want more..” Neuvillette begged you sweetly, eyes half-open as he embraced this perverted side of his. You were genuinely surprised by his words, you didn't expect to hear him plead for more, hence you stopped your movements for a split second. Damn it, you thought he was just an innocent little mermaid, but maybe there is more to it?

To be honest, you were really into all of this as well. Normally he was your superior whom you had to follow and obey like a loyal dog, but now he was like your cute and adorable little pet, begging for you to play with him. How unpredictable the world is, and you didn't mind it at all. Just looking at him was enough to make you happy, and now you got him wrapped around your finger like it. You were ecstatic!

While you were immersed in the perverted appearance of your boss, you subconsciously trusted your fingers in and out of him, ending with him crying out repeatedly and almost creating cracks in the acrylic due to his tight grip. “AaHHhh!! OOHHh..<3! Mhm, too muOochH, fa-fAasterrr.!♡♡♡~!!” At this point, you didn’t know what he was hoping and pleading for. His sentences have long been rid of any logic since he kept giving mixed signals. So all you did was coo at him and promise him that you’ll make him feel good.

His eyes rolled back to the back of his skull when you accidentally brushed over an especially sensitive spot deep inside him. Now he was truly blabbering nonsense, you could barely understand the meaning of his words. When you sneaked a peek at his face, you saw how he was basically melting. Like butter, slowly falling apart due to the heat. Your movements fastened again, repeatedly pushing your digits in and out of him at a quick pace.

You even caught yourself drooling because you were too concentrated on his expressions, how his features twisted into bliss. All due to you and your fingers. “Ahh.. nghHh, I- I can’t.. it’s so we-weird!” Neuvillette managed to groan out with much effort, his entire body was quivering as if electricity was coursing through him. “So-something is..! NghH, hMMn~ <3” Something? What did he mean by that? “Co-coming… it’s co-mHMm, coming out..♥︎～!!!” Ah, that’s what’s happening. Pff—

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his adorable antics, does he even know how cute he was? Carefully, you rubbed and pressed the tip of your fingers against that sweet spot inside him again, almost abusing that poor spot at this point with how much you were touching it. Each time you did that, he’d arch his back off from the bathtub, and his two bluish dicks would jump in excitement. Everything about him was just so cute! Sure, you were smitten with him from the moment you laid your eyes on him, but now you were sure you couldn’t turn back anymore.

How you wished you could devour him. He just looks so delicious, you could eat him out all day long if he allowed it. Not to mention the way his vent clenches around you and churns, it wouldn’t be an overstatement to say you were obsessed, addicted to him. The rest of his body was like a god’s creation as well, sculpted by the meticulous care of the lord.

Each muscle was defined but not overdone, his chest rising and sinking with each breath. His perky nipples also owned a beautiful shade of pink, standing up all proud as if inviting you to taste them. For a second there you were lost in your daydreams, totally hypnotized by the male in front of you. One of his moans managed to pull you out of it, reminding you of your current mission. “UgghHH! Oh-UHhh! Y/n, y/nnn♡♡♥︎!”Neuvillette gasped out for your name multiple times, hoping to reach you.

You’ve been squeezing and grazing his sensitive spots without providing him a break, who would be able to withstand all these currents of ecstasy while staying sane? Though, perhaps the poor hydro dragon wasn’t even in his right mind anymore. He couldn’t speak properly or think clearly, can you really call him sane at this point? No, he was a mess, a fool for your touch, an addict drowning in pleasure.

“Oh? My, I was distracted for a second, wasn't I? You are doing great, Neuvillette, keep going. Cum for me?” You praised him once you took in the situation, now pushing your fingers even deeper inside him, causing his heart to stand still for a second. It was as if his mind was breaking, his brain malfunctioning as hot tears rolled down his eyes and into the bathtub. The loud rain outside the house was picking up, becoming harder by the second.

“MhMNG..! Noo- hhGGNnNMm~ I- I’m aaAngGhh!!” High-pitched moans left his throat, they were more akin to screams of pure bliss than anything else. For a split moment, he could feel his consciousness fading away, blacking out before he returned to reality. Some kind of fluid squirted out of his dick, ending in more pleasure cascading through his veins. “GuHhh, Mhh-nghh...? Ahh, ahGnn y/n, y-y/n… ♡～" Neuvillette gagged and choked on his moans, crying hysterically while his cum kept gushing out of his swollen tip.

His legs shook violently, unable to fathom all these sensations and feelings. It was too much to handle! His orgasm washed over him in the most unexpected way possible, and he wasn’t ready for it. By no means he was, though he wouldn't have been ready until the next century. The consistency of his cum was thick and milky, it immediately sunk down to the bottom of the white bathtub. All his strength was gone as if they got robbed from him.

Neuvillette was limping at this point, his bottom a twitchy something where cum kept shooting out of his slit. You took a good look at him, his hair wet and sticking to his body, head thrown back as if he didn’t have enough strength to hold it up. Those cheeks, ears, and shoulders were all flushed pink, also his mouth was a little open due to his continuous groans. He was panting heavily, breathing still unstable. If you had to take a wild guess, he was probably still processing everything that happened as well as the emotions swirling inside him.

Slowly you took your fingers out, he only reacted minimally to the loss of contact. Eyelid twitching a little when the warmth of your digits subsided. You stared at him, at his fucked out and broken state. At that moment, you were sure he was the most attractive he had ever been. Ah. Suddenly you got reminded of the court case he was supposed to attend. Reality hits you like a door in your face. Wait, what time was it? Could you two still make it in time?

You looked at your pocket watch and.. damn it. 10 minutes until the case begins. There was no way you two would arrive on time, especially since you weren’t sure if he could even walk at this point. Then you noticed how he seems to be coming to his senses, so you gently brushed some strands of hair out of his fucked out face.

While doing that, you wore a worried expression across your features as you whispered, “Uh, first, I’m sorry for entering without permission. Your door was open so I was bold enough to enter, forgive me.” Neuvillette’s eyes widened, did he really make such a stupid mistake, for no reason? Well, he did feel a little hot today, maybe a bit out of it as well, but still. You then kept apologizing, saying, “Second, there is a course case in a few minutes, I’m so sorry for neglecting work.” Your tone was an apologetic one, feeling bad for ruining his great reputation.

To your surprise he didn’t seem bothered at all, instead, he looked away in shame. Probably at the thought of what he just did with you, his assistant. “Uh.. no, it’s fine.. I’m at fault too. I shouldn’t have… gotten you into this mess as well.” You instantly shook your head in opposition, “No no, it's on me. But may I ask, how are you feeling? Does anything feel sore?” His face heated up again and he blushed furiously, you were almost able to see smoke coming out of his head. “No I'm fine..” the male mumbled quietly, still avoiding your eyes.

Without wasting any more time, you proposed, “Then shall we hurry-” “No, it’s alright, y-y/n.” He interrupted you, his voice also stuttered and cracked up as he worded your name. God, he was adorable. “The reporter, who was supposed to be present at the trial, couldn’t make it. He got sick. I.. uh, I met his wife on my way to the opera, and she told me she was going to stop by your office to delay it to you.”

You blinked, once, then twice. So that’s why he wasn’t present. Right, your righteous and hard-working boss would never come too late, there must have been an outer influence. The reason why you didn’t know, was because you were working from home today so there was no way for the news to get delivered to you. What a misfortune, but, you got to do this and that with him, so in the end it was a good thing?

You could feel your own cheeks heat up now that everything was over, and the misunderstanding cleared up. “Err, then.. can I help you with anything else, Monsieur Neuvillette?!” Your voice came out accidentally too rough because you were panicking a little. Damn it.. dealing with the aftermath of your actions was kind of embarrassing. So you really.. did this and that.. haha. Damn your self-control, you even lied to him.

Luckily your kind chief didn’t take your rather loud voice as an insult, instead, he handled it gracefully and said, “It’s alright, I’m sorry that you had to see me in that state. Please wait in the living room while I get ready.” You nodded and left right after he finished his sentence, you figured he’d want a little privacy now that everything was over.

Without wasting much time, you left the bathroom. Slowly, the rain stopped, and everything calmed down again. The fog that was once surrounding everything has also disappeared now. After you left, Neuvillette sighed before slumping back into the water. Whatever just happened… argh, how embarrassing! Please never ever remind him of it, or he might go back to living with nature and Melusines again.

The dragon gazed out of the window, his heart pounding in his chest. He saw as well, how the rainy weather from before left, now replaced by the bright sun. Next time he should be more careful about closing doors and whatnot, even if he ends up enjoying this occasion. His cheeks flushed once again at the thought of you, and he hid under the water. How can he ever look you in the eyes again...?

Tags: @ghostiegirl56 @thisisnotangel @ghostgoosygoose @i-dont-fooken-know @chuuya-brainrot @allyfoxglove @thigh-o-saur @fallenthemisticalyingyang @fem-dom-roze

Nini!rant 2.0:

This is going to be a short one, just a quick explanation of the dragon anatomy. (What nobu explained to me)

So, it’s a vent right? Kinda like a vagina but without the clit and looking more like a hole. Then imagine two dicks coming out from the hole, both are curled towards the stomach and the one on top is a little shorter. The tip is rather pointy, with the form looking a little spiky as well? At the base, or the part that’s buried in the vent, it’s his skin colour, and towards the gland it fades into a clear blue, or even mystical purple. Around the veins it’d be slightly purple and it shines a little as if someone poured sparkles over it ✨

Instead of hair, he’d have scales, shiny blue ones (so pretty!!) that cover the entire area. It surrounds his vent and is quite sturdy when he isn’t erect, if you rub it long enough it will become softer. He can hide the two dicks inside his vent or take them out! And a fun fact or headcanon nobu told me was, dragons can only cum from one dick at a time, except they are reaaaally overstimulated.

This artist drew it basically how I imagine it - but they drew it without the vent

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starlightazriel · 2 months ago

Text

bee 11

desc: modern bestfriends > lovers (femreader) (tattoo artist az)

warnings: 18+, drug/alcohol addiction/recovery, reader overthinking/insecure/depressed, jealousy, archeron sisters have entered the chat, angst, fluff, co-dependence(and all the trauma that comes with it),

wc: 4.2k

a/n: wow i'm so sorry this took so long as some of you know i been going through some things anyyyway we've come so far since the beginning myyy goodness, as much as I love sober az I already miss the az who was doing a line before a tattoo, but alas after all the drama last time I hope this makes up for it <3 kisses xoxox

other parts on my az masterlist

eleven

Sixty days.

Sixty days of loneliness.

Sixty days of an empty house.

Sixty days of overthinking.

Sixty days of gut wrenching anxiety.

Sixty days of no contact.

Sixty days of not hearing his voice.

It had been my idea, the whole no contact, and now, it felt like it had been the worst fucking idea in the world. Facing him now seemed impossible. Would he look different? Would he be different?

Fucking idiot. Do you know how much can change in sixty days? Sober Ariel won't even want you.

It had been maybe a week in when the seed of doubt had blossomed in my gut. The regret for the dumb idea that space was the best thing for our relationships, time to figure ourselves out so we could add to each others lives— instead of depending on each other. Him, needing me, me needing to be needed.

It was such a fine line between give and take and I had offered every last piece of myself to him without a hesitation. With him gone, with him healing, getting better... What would he need me for? What was I supposed to do with myself? School was hardly distracting, and finals coming up should have helped but only made it worse.

Rhys and Cass had visited him, a few times, they had also gone on another Vegas trip, without him obviously, apartment hunting. That did nothing to soothe my gut either, that was real. It was happening in mere months they were moving to Vegas. Neither did the way they all stopped talking about him when I was around, did he tell them something? Did he tell them he was going to break it off with me for good when he got home? Or did my friends really think I was that fragile? That I couldn't even handle hearing about him?

'I would let Rhys sue me for breaking contract before I would leave this city without you.' his previous words echoed in my mind, I had been so sure he meant it when he'd said that to me, so sure that I would never be alone again.

And of course I wanted him to get clean, but somehow, everything felt different now. I wasn't so sure of anything anymore. Would he still feel the same way?

I hadn't even looked into transferring schools. He had told me to, before he left... But doing that made everything more real, and what if he changed his mind when he saw me again?

He wouldn't be in a drug clouded haze anymore. He wouldn't need me anymore, not the way that I needed him.

And I wouldn't even get any alone time with him, not immediately. Rhys was throwing a little get together for him, he was so proud, they were all so proud of him.

I hated that I wasnt as proud as everyone else when I should be the most proud, I hated that I was afraid of the new Azriel. There would be nothing for me to fix anymore.

With every waking moment that passed my anxiety and insecurity grew. Getting ready for his 'sober party' seemed surreal to me, it only created more doubts in my mind. I mean, had Azriel, my Az, really agreed to that? Even as a sober version of himself— it seemed doubtful.

Sixty days.

Sixty days of detoxing his mind, body, and soul.

Sixty days of boring meals.

Sixty days of therapy multiple times a week.

Sixty days of sharing his darkest side with complete strangers.

Sixty days of uncomfortable beds and scratchy sheets.

Sixty days of living in sweat pants because it was all he had packed.

Sixty days of heart stopping guilt and revelations about himself and his behavior.

Sixty days of torturous inescapable demons that seemed to be at war in his mind.

Sixty days of not hearing her voice.

The moment she had told him she didn't want to talk to him while he was in rehab, he had wanted to stay. Give up the idea entirely and quit on his own accord. He didn't though, he went. And it wasn't only for her. No, it was for him too. And he thought maybe it was valid, maybe they did need space, time away to clear their minds and have a true fresh start. He could do things right this time.

And now, with his head clear, he was happy he had gone. He felt stronger, in his mind and body. It had been a lot, a lot of facing things that had happened in his childhood that he had never dared to face before. Things he didnt have to face when drugs and alcohol had been his safety net for so many years. He realized he didnt need substances to deal with those things, his traumas didnt make him weak or vulnerable, they made him stronger.

He did recognize his problem, and he couldn't say for sure that he would never touch the bottle or snort a line ever again because that was just unrealistic. He was only human and he would do his absolute best to be a good man, for himself.

For Bee too. If she still wanted anything to do with him, the silence between them was the loudest one he'd ever felt, even miles away.

Bee.

His lover. His everything.

There was nothing that could get in the way anymore, he hadn't realized until now how much his addictions had been separating him from her. And of course he had gotten off it before but never without alcohol to help him along. He had never been so fucking deep into his addictions, had never gone that crazy. What he had done was completely unacceptable and now he could only hope for the best when he saw her. A party thrown by Rhys and his girlfriend hadn't been his ideal meeting place... But it had been completely sprung on him. Him being in rehab wasnt a secret, but that didn't mean he wanted to advertise it. Rhys had promised it was a very small get together, just something to show their support. 'No pictures.' Azriel had been sure to clear that up with him. The party was supposed to be a surprise, luckily for Az, Rhys knew him better than that.

Rhys and his new girlfriend had out done themselves along with the help of Mor who had told me this morning when she arrived in town that she wouldn't have missed this for the world. 'I mean, Azriel sober? I have to see it for myself and support,' she had said over coffees earlier, I had gotten quiet, I knew I could have talked to her about how I was feeling. But it felt wrong, it was embarrassing to say the least. I didnt think she would understand, either.

Rhys' place was decked out, balloons everywhere, charcuterie and little desserts lined both of the large tables, there was a mocktail station and a coffee station where she had also decorated Rhys' coffee pot, another table had a 'fill your own cone' bud bar that included a big jar full of Azriels favorite cigarettes as well. Her theme was 'Sober & Slaying' and there were banners and balloons to match. My heart had swelled the moment I had entered the apartment and part of me felt a little guilty for not getting here earlier. I hadn't been doing much of anything though, I wasn't eating right, I wasn't sleeping right, my thoughts and fears and insecurities had been practically eating me alive. They hadn't even asked me to help with set up, simply to show up on time, I at least had arrived twenty minutes early.

"Oh good! You're here, will you help me with this last mocktail?" Feyre beams after she had pulled me into a quick hug. She was very sweet although a bit reserved at first she had warmed up to me quickly. She was setting up some last minute decorations, I was early, of course, my anxious gut hadn't allowed me to sit at home a moment longer.

Part of me was hoping this new relationship would entice Rhys to stay a little bit longer, but they were already talking about going long distance until Feyre was ready to take the leap and move to Vegas. Seemed awfully soon to even be talking about it to me, but I wasn't one to judge, they did seem madly in love nearly instantly, and Rhys was, different. Nicer even.

"Yeah of course," I flashed her a grin and tasted the mocktail she was working on before I added some more of the homemade blueberry simple syrup she had made. "So good," I hummed in approval once I had tasted it again.

"So like, will this be the first time you and Az speak?" Mor tries to make it sound as casual as possible, my eyes focus intently as I transferred the mocktail to the aesthetically pleasing drink dispensers Feyre had put out.

"Um yeah, I haven't seen him or spoke to him since the night before he left," I shrugged, my eyes not lifting once. It had been quite the emotional night, it felt like a lifetime ago.

"I visited him once, he looks really good," she responded and I couldn't stop the jealous pang that hit my gut. Space. We had decided space was the right thing for us, a reset to our relationship after everything we had been through. My dumb idea, but he had agreed. I only smiled in response, and was glad when Cassian arrived with a cake in hand, his loud greeting drew all the attention away from me. Bless him. I found a corner to sit in, a quiet corner with my phone and one of the mocktails Feyre had made. A few more arrived, Feyres sisters, which I had only met a handful of times. Why were they here? Az didn't know them, did he? The only way that was possible would be if Rhys had brought them for one of his visits— the mocktail felt sour in my stomach and I felt more than relieved when Kat finally arrived and joined me in my corner.

"Hi love, how you holding up?" Kat had been very supportive through this entire rehab thing, and was making my loneliness nearly bearable.

"I'm fine, really, just coping with all of— all of the emotions of all the sudden change I guess," I shrug easily, Kat was the only one I had really felt comfortable to tell my true feelings to. She was the only one I knew that wouldn't judge. She nodded in understanding, making herself comfortable in her seat.

"That's valid, it's a lot to take in girl," She begins and I'm relieved when she can't continue because Cassian is all but shouting a second later.

"He's coming up he texted me a few minutes ago," Cassians voice drowns out the chatter around the room and I feel my insides go to liquid, my throat feeling tight and constricted.

My heart stopped when I finally laid my eyes on him. Impossibly sexier. His face was more full, color in his cheeks, a sparkle in his eye I hadn't seen since we were kids, he stood straighter, making him look impossibly taller, shoulders spread, oozing with a confidence I hadn't seen in a long time. My gut twisted, my heart picking up, a steady hammer against my chest. I held my breath when our eyes met, his face fell as he scanned me from across the room and I wanted nothing more than to drop into the hole in the floor. It wasn't exactly the reaction I'd been hoping for. I knew I looked awful— but shit, we hadn't seen each other in two months.

"Azriel, it's nice to see you again," Elain is the first person in front of him she's loud enough to hear across the room, her sing song voice carrying, and I try to ignore it but my eyes are glued to his, and he has to tear his away from mine.

"So what, Rhys took Feyre and her random sisters to see Az in rehab?" I drop my voice, forcing myself to look away, to tune out their conversation to the best of my abilities. Kat bit her lip, a notable guilty blush creeping across her cheeks.

"I um.. I was there too," she admits, twirling her hair around her finger, I squint slightly. She could have at least told me that. "It was a last minute thing," she explained quickly, my expression probably throwing her off. I was jealous, I couldn't deny that— I had no one to blame but myself. If I'd never been so set on having space away from eachother... My blood heated, she was gorgeous, just the type that Azriel would go for to. "They just happened to be there and we made a group trip of it— and yeah, I didn't think you'd want to know, considering..." she trailed off and I shrugged my shoulders.

"Yeah, I don't mind at all," I would have rather jumped off of the balcony than have this conversation, I shouldn't have asked. The FOMO was certainly real and I wondered if that's why they were constantly all whispers when talking about Azriel, to spare me of that feeling.

"Youre not imagining her googly eyes though," she scoffs as she glances back over at them and then to me mocking a gag, I smirked a little bit glancing back at them once more and then to Kat again. She was for sure laying it on thick with the sweet tone and all of the unnecessary blinks. I didnt remember that about the first few times I met her.

"I mean I can't even blame her— he looks..." I trailed off searching for the right word, he looked amazing, delicious, sexier than he'd ever had before. He was practically glowing with whatever newfound confidence he'd gained from facing his many demons.

"I know that's your man but he looks hot," she finishes for me and we giggle together, I ignored the heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach that maybe he wasnt my man anymore.

"That he does," I sigh, twirling my straw around in my cup, suddenly I regretted not sneaking a few nips into my purse. I wouldn't get drunk at a sober party, I wouldn't, but something to take the edge off would be nice, and a joint didn't seem like the right option.

I effectively avoided Azriel for at least an hour, I hadn't been keeping track of time but it felt like it had been at least that long. I wasnt ready for a conversation, not when one look at him made my heart stop.

My stomach was growling, and I needed a snack. I was carefully piling charcuterie onto my plate when I jumped and nearly dropped the whole thing.

"Youre avoiding me, and youre doing a good job for how small the space is," his voice is the same one I remember, low and gravelly and sexy.

"Im not," I insist, just hoping he hadn't noticed the way I visibly jumped at the sound of his voice.

"I think I know when my girlfriend is avoiding me," he left a heavy emphasis on the word, looking at me expectantly as if he was daring me to challenge his claim on our relationship status. Relief washed over me, a tension that I hadn't been able to ease since the last time I saw him.

"Its just— Its been a lot I don't know, and having this conversation here... Seems like a lot too," I took a step back from the table but turned around to face him, I could feel more than one pair of eyes watching us, it only made me more uncomfortable.

"Are you eating?" its a direct question, soft but firm, his eyes scanning over every inch of me. My stomach flips, my cheeks reddening.

"Yes," I lift the small plate of cheese, crackers, and fruit as if that proved anything.

"Hm," he doesn't seem satisfied with my answer, his eyes not leaving me for a second.

"You look good Az, you look different," I chewed the inside of my lip, hoping my anxiousness didnt bleed into my words.

"Im still me baby im just better," that same confident smirk spreads across his lips, I knew it well but somehow- there was a different spark behind it. Something all those drugs had dimmed. A light I hadn't seen in a while. "For example, Im not gonna nod off on the couch anymore because Ive had a handle to myself for two days straight and Im hours off a two week coke bender," he said it so casually and leave it to Azriel to make a joke out of it. "From now on," his voice drops as if he knew they were all listening, I felt Elain's curious eyes on us and I knew she was trying to catch every word. Sorry, hes mine. "I won't fall asleep without making sure you are fed, fucked, and tucked into bed."

I blush, looking away from his stare, something in my gut eases but the anxiety is still settled there.

"And Im sorry, for each and every time I failed you. Im clear headed now and—" he cuts himself off, and maybe it was the look on my face that stopped him. "Would you feel better if we went outside?" he nods to the balcony, I quickly nod, desperate to be alone with him and not on display like some soap that they were all watching.

"Please, its. little stuffy in here," my words are a little rushed, and they were true, I felt like I could barely breathe anymore. And I was making a complete idiot out of myself when Azriel hadn't seen me in two months. I feel his hand on my back and he guides me out onto Rhys balcony, I don't look back again, I lean up against the balcony, resting my elbow on the railing and sucking in a deep breath of fresh air before popping one of the pieces of cheese into my mouth.

Azriel joins me after he had shut the door behind us, leaning up against the balcony next to me and he lit up a joint he had gotten off of the bud bar.

"Did you tell your psychiatrist you were going to smoke?" I ask casually, trying to change the subject into something else. Anything else but our relationship, I shouldn't be worried, he had already said I was still his girlfriend.

"Yes," he shrugged, taking another drag from it, I could feel his eyes on me as I set my plate down on the nearby table. I had barely touched it.

"And what did they say?" I ask, quirking a brow as I take it from him, it was annoying that I was more at ease now, normal territory, I didnt like the way sober Az could see right through me, I had thought he was able to before, and now?

He shrugged again, watching me. "Why are you trying to avoid talking about us?" he reaches out, tucking my hair behind my ear so I can't hide from him, my breath catches. He took the joint back, taking one more long drag before putting it out. I shook my head, I couldn't find the right words. He grabs my wrist gently and turns me around so my back is against the railing, his body so close, the scent of his cologne slamming into my senses. "Why?" he repeats, his eyes meeting mine in the dim light, his voice is soft and careful.

"I— I don't know Az," I breathe out, my heart felt like it would pound out of my chest. "It's just I—" I look away, unable to meet his gaze when I feel the word vomit coming. "Im afraid, Azriel. I am. And I know it's fucked up because I shouldn't be. I feel sick, sick with myself that I have been more worried about whether or not you would still want me when you got back than I have about you and your actual recovery. Ive been worried about you being different and not needing me and I know Im so fucked up for that there's something wrong with me and Im sorry—"

"Hey, hey, stop, breathe for a second," he interrupts me, a small sigh leaving his lips as he places both of his hands on my cheeks, lifting my face to look at him and he gently wipes away my shameful tears with his rough thumbs, the feeling makes my spine tingle. "Don't feel bad for anything that you feel or have felt in these past weeks," he assures me, one of his thumbs still gently rubbing against my cheek, his eyes burning into mine. "I— I created that for you, that whole thinking you need to be needed by me. I created this... Trauma bond, I know that now, I know that I made our relationship toxic. It's not your fault, I hadn't dealt with any of my shit and I basically put it on to you. Im sorry, Im sorry you felt like that at all and I wish..." he sighed softly, one of his hands fell to my waist. "I wish I had the courage to call you, because I wanted to so many times, but I didnt think you'd want to talk to me. You needed space and I had to respect that but seeing you now, seeing you haven't been taking care of yourself like you should have. I should have been there for you," he sighed, clearly frustrated with himself. "I know where I fucked up, I know what kind of damage Ive done, this only proves it," he brushed his finger over the dark circle underneath my eye. "I love you, I love you so much, maybe too much sometimes," he sighs again, I fight the urge to close my eyes and lean into his touch.

"Az I love you too," I breathe out because Im stunned into silence. Everything hes said, his accountability, his words, they felt like they were crashing into me.

"Im not going to leave you like that ever again," he promised, and took a step closer, pressing his body into mine. He felt stronger, more solid. It was almost like he had left a boy and returned a man. "You are going to be my wife some day, you are the fucking definition of ride or die Bee, I swear, for the last two months the more clear my head got I just realized one thing over and fucking over," he wasnt afraid, he had absolutely no hesitations, every single word felt like a promise, and I felt like my heart was palpitating. "I hit the fucking jack pot with you, and I fear the smartest thing that Ive ever done in my life was share my favorite candy with the girl across the street."

My cheeks are burning, tears streaming, but they aren't sad, just emotional. I don't know what else to do, my words are caught in my throat so I kissed him. I pulled him down, my fingers tugging in the hairs at the nap of his neck, our tongues tangling perfectly like they always had. He was mine, still my Az, better, better like he had said. He was right. A soft groan escaped his lips, my stomach flipped at the sound, the thought of how he would have his way with me later after so many days apart. My body melted into his at the thought, our hungry kiss only escalating. Our desperate need for each other matching perfectly, our emotions pouring into the heated kiss. I tilted my head his lips traveling down my jaw and across my neck, settling behind my ear and gently sucking. I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, I moaned his name softly, my body feeling like a hot puddle.

"Hmm?" he hummed against my skin, his hand had slipped under my dress where he was rubbing soft circles on the least sensitive part of my thigh, somehow it was still driving me mad.

"We, we should go in now... They are going to be wondering whats taking us so long," I breathed out, I couldn't even see past Azriel into the house, I was sure they could see us though, or at least see Azriel pinning me against the railing.

"They should have known better than to throw me a party when I haven't seen my baby in sixty whole days, and they definitely should have known better than to let you wear this dress," he tugs lightly at the fabric. "They should have known Id need alone time with you," his eyes glimmered with mischief. "I have a lot of making up to do," he added, tracing his scarred finger over my jawline.

"I hated this idea more than you Im sure," I admitted guiltily, biting down on my lip. "But they worked really hard Az," I tried to peek around him to see inside again, he only shifted to block my view.

"Fine, but five more minutes," he smirked, tilting my chin up again.

"Five more minutes," I whispered breathlessly before he crashed his lips onto mine again, and I felt all of my anxiety melt away, as if he was pulling it from me.

And I felt safe.

Home.

Safe.

taglist <3:

@smalljasper289 @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @scorpioriesling @userxs-blog @lilah-asteria @abadfantasybook @judeduartewannbe @lindsayscottagebythesea @velarisdusk @serxndipity-ipity-blog @julesvanslutta @honk4emoboyz @bookishbishhh @dakotali @blessthepizzaman @scooobies @durgenyx @lorosette @kayjaywrites

#acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel spymaster #acotar fanfiction #azriel fic #acotar fic #acotar smut #azriel fluff #azriel fan fiction #azriel acosf #azriel au #azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel angst #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel smut

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hsficrecommendation · 8 months ago

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Hello everyone! This is masterlist #7 and #8 (Nov and Dec of 2023!) for all of the fics I have reblogged on this side blog I hold super close to me. Remember to leave feedback and reblog the writings if you read them!

Also, a huge thank you to all the writers mentioned, I adore you so very much and I hope you keep writing <3

••• NOVEMBER •••

Chiffon | Lace | Satin | In which Harry is grumpy and mean to Y/N, who's just shy and trying to get through the day, and they're both teaching assistants for the same class. - @cupid-styles

Love's An Ache In The Jaw | A fic about TA!Harry and TA!Yasmine who hate each other more than anything in the world. - @harryforvogue

Sunkissed | Part 2 | Where (Y/n) is a single mom to an uncoordinated kid, who happens to have surf lessons with a very cute man. - @harryhoney-bee

Knockout | The one where Harry is a handsome stranger who always comes to your diner covered in bruises. - @freedomfireflies

Athens | Harry’s in his fourth year teaching university, and he knew he was bound to have a favorite student but he didn’t know he would meet someone like y/n. - @moonchildstyles

••• DECEMBER •••

Halo | Harry doesn’t believe in love and Y/N tries to figure him out. - @parkersroses

Baby, It's Cold Outside | In which Harry is the right person at the wrong time. - @havethetimeofyourstyles

Where The World Takes You ♡ | In which you study in a different country and meet someone along the way. - @havethetimeofyourstyles

Lonely This Christmas ♡ | You and Harry broke up earlier in the year, but at Columbia’s Christmas party you see each other again, and you both realise just how much you miss each other. - @enthusiasticharry

Fine Line | Harry plays you Fine Line for the first time and some things get said. - @harrystylescherry

Delicate | Harry has a bad past with relationships and is waiting for when Y/N decides to leave him. - @gucciharrywritings

Love of my Life | Where Harry and Y/n, who is a part of the love band, end up married without the media and the fans finding out. But Harry finally lets the news out by introducing Y/n Mrs. Styles. - @gucciwins

Number One | In which Harry jumps in to help when Y/n is stressing about a little lie she told her family, but is the new lie -- actually a lie? - @watchmegetobsessed

Masterlist for more recs! My Writing account - @0oolookitsme

#harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic rec #harry styles x y/n #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles angst #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles masterlist

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parkerluvsu · 24 days ago

Text

ME ESPRESSO! (art donaldson x fem! reader)

say you can't sleep, baby, i know/that's that me espresso

the vibration of your phone on your bedside table causes you to halt your nightly routine, sitting cross-legged on your cozy hotel bed. art was currently paying for you to live there while you found an apartment closer to him in the city. speaking of art, his contact picture flashed on your phone screen, causing you to smile as you pick up. "i can't sleep" art cuts right to the chase, not beating around the bush. "aw why?" you feign ignorance when you respond, you know exactly why, only about an hour before you'd sent art a selfie in nothing but the hotel-provided robe, a payment of sorts for letting you stay in the lavish hotel. "you know why baby.."

holy shit/is it that sweet? i guess so

you can't stop the giggle that escapes your mouth. "you're sweet art.. i only wanted to show you how comfy the robe was!" you lie through your teeth, when art is needy and missing you is when you like him best. "cmon baby you were practically naked.. you know what you do to me.." he almost whines into the phone, you can hear him shifting through the speaker. "what do i do to you?" you can imagine the look on arts face now, as he shifts uncomfortably in the plush chair in the corner of his room, running his fingers through his cropped blond hair.

im working late, 'cause im a singer/oh, he looks so cute wrapped around my finger

most of the time when art calls or contacts you it's at night, you both have busy schedules (his being a little more flexible now that he's retired) and since art is in the midst of a messy divorce, it's better for both of you if you don't live together currently. and maybe it's easier for art to save face a little bit and not drool all over you if he can't see you all the time. as they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder, and art is extremely fond of you. obsessed is a strong word, but it does remind you of arts attitude towards you, it's not an exaggeration to say that he would absolutely jump off a bridge for you.

my twisted humor make him laugh to often/my honey bee, come and get this pollen

art chuckles, an attractive sound that echoes through the speaker. "what do you do to me? baby you make me crazy.. you know i would give a whole lot to be with you right now, yeah?" you sigh, imagining what you would do if he was there with you. "yeah i know.. just wish you could teleport over here with me" art wishes the same, but he can't come and see you now, tomorrow he has to take care of his daughter and whenever he comes over you two always end up sleeping in till noon.

too bad your ex don't do it for ya/walked in and dream-came-trued it for ya

you only knew part of the situation with his ex, tashi, you think her name was. art, by nature is a private person, preferring to keep his personal life personal. he only came clean to you about their tumultuous relationship and the subsequent fallout when he felt that he trusted you enough. simply put, when art decided to retire from tennis, he decided to get a divorce from tashi because he knew she would only come to hate him, and maybe he had come to hate her too. when he met you, you're everything tashi wasn't. caring, nurturing, supportive, loving. it only motivated art to move forward with the divorce, even if it meant that the life he used to live was over. but it wasn't all bad for art.. he finally had a girlfriend that would be there for him no matter what (and put up with his clingyness).

soft skin and i perfumed it for ya/i know i mountain dew it for ya

arts sweet voice brings you back to reality. "did you get that gift i got you?" you remember the sweet gesture with a smile on your face, a couple days ago art had gotten you a basket full of self care products. face masks, body wash, moisturizers and lotions, all in your favorite scents. the note card attached said "take care of yourself for me. -thinking of you always, art <3" you swooned at the personalized details. "yes i did art.. thank you.. ive been using the lotion you gave me and i feel so soft.." you truly don't realize how much art is affected by your words. but you can tell he's smiling through the phone "is that right? im glad you like them.. i have to admit that i had to hold back from stealing a couple things, all that stuff reminds me of you and it really does it for me"

that morning coffee, brewed it for ya/one touch and i brand-newed it for ya

"you know you should really go to sleep art, it's late" you say, trying to test him and see if he'll stop talking to you for just that simple reason. "i know, but like i said, i can't sleep, and i didn't even have any coffee today" he reminds you, making you recall his old addiction to caffeine, one that he still has to fight to this day, but it's easier now that he isn't working so much. "you should just stay on the phone then" you suggest slyly, "i mean if i can't go to sleep touching you i at least want to go to sleep talking to you" you add. arts heart melts, no one had ever expressed interest in him like you do.

now hes thinkin' 'bout me, every night, oh/is it that sweet? i guess so

art agrees to your proposal quickly, both of you settling into your beds for the night as you set your phones next to you. "when can i come see you again?" art asks breathlessly, and he really does feel breathless when he isn't around you, searching for the fresh air that only you can provide him. "in two days, okay? it won't feel too long i promise" you reply, knowing he'll be disappointed, but also knowing the two of you still lead seperate lives. "alright, and we'll do something special together okay? ill try to pull some strings and get us a reservation at that restaurant you love" art, always the eager one, is already planning out the day to the minute detail. you sigh dreamily "that sounds perfect art.. you're too good to me" and it's true, he really does spoil you to his hearts content. "no way, you're so sweet im only giving you what you deserve" he replies quickly, blanketing you in flattery like usual. a few more minutes go by of back and forth compliments before you yawn, art taking notice. "you tired? go to sleep princess. ill be here, i mean- not really there but- you know what i mean" art always stutters over his words when he tries to be suave, a cute habit you hope he never quits. you giggle softly "alright alright.." you let your head sink into the fluffy feather pillow beneath you. "i love you art" the words leave your lips more naturally than anything you've ever said. "i love you more" art replies. well, you can't argue with that <3

#parkerluvsu #parker.talks #art donaldson #challengers x reader #challengers 2024 #challengers #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson fic #art donaldson fluff

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jiminrings · 2 years ago

Text

pink sapphire

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 11k

glimpse: having jungkook for a husband is great as far as arranged marriages could go; he's easy to love. your relationship's perhaps become so easy that jungkook doesn't think sometimes — and that's what makes it the easiest for you to hate him.

alternatively, you and jungkook married each other for business, but the both of you stay for love.

[ angst, arranged marriage au, fluff n really wholesome scenes (it cancels out the angst i swear), Jungkook Tries Hard (affectionate), miscommunication, jealousy, self-deprecation, sexual innuendos (no actual smut here!!), did i already say that jungkook tries rlly hard and is remorseful the whole time ]

notes: my year-ender fic for 2022 :) thank u for being here — i'm grateful for all ur love n support!! i'll see u in the next one <3

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!!

Jungkook’s a vocal person.

Your husband does not leave a single thought unspoken, sometimes his thinkpieces too impulsive that when he says them in public, you try to play it off by either distancing yourself with him or from him.

“I think the world would be just fine even if all the bees disappear,” Jungkook once said to you with conviction, midway into chewing his cheeseburger. “There’s articles about it proving otherwise but they’re too long for my attention span, but yeah, I don’t think it would be that bad, y’know?” he giggles, looking up at the ceiling in serious thought. “If anything, the Bee Movie taught us that-…”

Jungkook yelps automatically when you pinch his thigh, your hand sternly gripping his knee like both your reputations depended on it (they really did). “Jungkook, we’re literally in a climate change gala right now.”

“I don’t think coffee’s ever that serious. Seriously, world barista championships? New techniques in supposedly making the best cup of coffee when you’re all just gonna shit it ten minutes later? It’s not that deep,” Jungkook once whispered to you in urgency, his annoyance through the roof. He’s glued to your side, intent on whispering all about his irritation.

“Jungkook, I’m begging you,” you wince, screwing your eyes shut and slowly moving the two of you to the far end of the room. “We were literally right next to your uncle whose new wife is the organizer for that very championship you’re shitting on.”

“We need to talk about the tote bag epidemic,” Jungkook once whisper-yelled to you in a rush, holding you by the arm because he just can’t contain his inner thoughts any longer. You’re thankful, sure, that you’re your husband’s go-to person for all of his random thoughts; it’s just that he picks the worst settings to tell them to you.

“They look kinda tacky, everybody deludes themselves that they’re functional even if they have zero pockets, and-…”

“And you just offended atleast three different age groups and all of them are in this café. We need to leave.”

Jungkook’s endearing this way, raw and a tad bit annoying. He’s expressive as much as he’s vocal, his hand slotted on your waist like second nature to him. Being married to him isn’t bad. Sure, the circumstances of your union in the first place were for business anyway, but the both of you understood and agreed at the end of the day. By all means, he’s ideal — ideal until he opens his mouth when he’s sleeping.

If there’s anything that your two years of marriage (and counting) to Jungkook makes you realize, it’s that you should value your peace and sanity more than anything.

“Are you trying to kill me?”

Jungkook groggily asks you with one eye open, conveniently seeing you in the act of hovering around him with an ominous object in your hand. Maybe it’s the sleep in his eyes or the fog in his brain, but when you look at him like this– bothered and passionately frustrated, it makes him love you even more.

“No,” you mutter, the snoring mouth strip in your hands just begging to be put on already. “I’m trying to make you quiet.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

Perhaps it’s the sleep in your eyes or the fog in your brain, but you swear you just saw your husband crack a smirk despite keeping you up multiple nights a week, especially for the past month. He’s not endearing tonight, not at all.

“Isn’t marriage all about accepting each other’s flaws?” Jungkook frowns, about to turn on his side when you put your knee to block him.

“We’re arranged,” you deadpan. “I can’t accept you snoring with bass and reverb every night, Jungkook. I can barely sleep.”

“But didn’t you tell me you like it when I make noises?” Jungkook glares playfully. Bringing up your sex life with him out of the blue almost always does the trick, but it probably won’t work tonight now that you’re only awake and breathing heavily from sheer annoyance. “That you adore me whenever I tell you how much I love it?”

“Jungkook,” you hiss, tempted to flick him on the forehead in his sleep repeatedly so he’ll wake up with a mark. “Will you let me put the snoring strip on you or do we divorce?”

“Divorce,” he sighs out, a pinch instantly placed on his thigh that makes him jolt and squeak anyway. Jungkook whines, correcting himself when your hand hovers his chest this time. “Divorcing is bad!”

“Mhmm. Good night, Kook.”

You vibrate just by the prospect of sleeping peacefully tonight without the walls in the house being shaken up by your husband’s snores, tucking yourself in with an exhale that could last for minutes.

“Mmh-hmm!”

Jungkook could only pathetically whine through the mouth strip, resigning to his fate as he just spoons you from behind and huffs.

“What’s that? You want to wear snoring strips every night?” you chuckle, going to sleep with a smile. “What a nice husband.”

( ♡ )

Every now and then, you and Jungkook have to take a refresher course on each other’s businesses. The both of you know a lot already, constant conversations about which meetings happened where and reminders for events that the other will clear up their schedule for.

There’s already the concern and the general knowledge — it’s just all in the technicalities (even the simplest ones) that the two of you are lacking on.

“Is this a mock neck or a crewneck?” Jungkook holds up a shirt that’s yet to be released, eyebrows raised as if waiting for you to mess up. Come to think of it, you have to know now because his family’s holding company had acquired yet another brand and there’ll be a televised event for it — and some reporters ask the stupidest questions to date. You can’t be the weakest link.

“I wanna say neither,” you clear your throat, biting your bottom lip in confusion. It’s a shirt with a collar and that’s the only thing that matters. You know there’s a name for it and there’s a possibility that the choices Jungkook gave you were all bluffs.

Your answer definitely seems to pique both Jungkook’s interest and amusement, resisting the urge to laugh.

“Elaborate.”

“It’s neither of the two. It’s uhm, in the middle?” you tilt your head, only praying that you could bullshit your explanation to your husband, the very person that created the garment. “It’s an all-new neckline created by Jeon Jungkook because that’s what his label is all about.”

Flattering, but really wrong.

“Cool,” he snickers, nodding to himself before he tosses it for you to catch. “It’s a crewneck though.”

“What? Then why did you make me elaborate?” you complain, scoffing to yourself because you know you should’ve went with that answer. Crewnecks should be easy enough to answer but for some reason (read: you stayed up last night watching new-money elitist reality shows instead of studying), you couldn’t answer.

“To see how good you can run away with your answer, duh.”

“And did I run away with it?”

“You ran away with it for like, four meters,” Jungkook commends you, the distance not all that bad in hindsight, atleast until he opens his mouth again. “There’s a hundred meters in total.”

Trivial things like quiz night on each other’s professions remind you that Jungkook’s nice to be with. Banter flows easily and he’s just so charming that so far, you haven’t deeply regretted a single day out of the two years you’ve been married.

You may not be able to name all the different fabrics, silhouettes, and techniques behind Jungkook’s very own streetwear brand, but you know that he likes being held when he’s asleep; that when he taps your thigh groggily after waking up in the middle of the night, it’s him very kindly asking you to rub circles on his back until he falls asleep.

“Okay, my turn!”

Your glass table almost shakes in excitement when you retrieve your sketches, making your husband all the more nervous because you look genuinely excited and he doesn’t want to disappoint you. He doesn’t have the room for error — your family’s jewelry brand turns 100 years old since the opening of its first shop and the event will be widely attended by everyone from all industries. Who’s to say that your eccentric grandfather won’t suddenly host a quizbee all about their craft?

You flash the paper quickly and your husband sighs in relief, grinning in confidence.

“Emerald cut, easy!”

The confidence is quickly washed out from Jungkook because you snort, putting the paper down.

“It’s an octagon cut.”

“No it’s not,” he immediately retorts in disbelief, squinting at the sketch you’ve set down already.

“I sketched these,” you narrow your eyes. You forgot just how quick Jungkook can keep himself in denial. “Emerald cuts have more depth to them."

He succumbs just as quickly as he turned stubborn though, rolling his eyes with the internal reminder to touch up on his jewelry knowledge because your event comes before his.

“Fine, sue me for thinking your drawings have depth and dynamic to them.”

“You’re buttering me up.”

“Is it working?” Jungkook blinks owlishly, proud of himself when he sees the corner of your lips twitching. He holds his arm out to sling across your waist out of instinct, pleased in pink when you lean into him.

“Barely.”

Jungkook frowns, nosing into your hair with a huff. “Look who’s talking. You made up an all-new neckline by yourself.”

“Shh,” you hum. “Let me get away with it.”

These moments of domesticity are what remind you that Jungkook’s never been less than ideal for you. That despite being in the same social circle as kids and only starting off as friends, you weren’t hesitant when both your grandparents suggested the idea of getting the two of you married.

In trivial and domestic moments like these, you think that you would’ve wanted to marry Jungkook even if you weren’t arranged.

“I let you get away with a lot of things,” he playfully huffs, resting his chin on your shoulder intentionally heavy to get you to cave deeper into his embrace.

“Because I barely wrong you!” you reason, rolling your eyes because you know for a fact that although you’re not a perfect wife, you’re beyond ideal.

“I know,” Jungkook rolls his eyes this time, the truth undeniable. You’re right; you’re so perfect for him that sometimes, he thinks he doesn’t deserve you. “How about me? Will you let me get away with a lot of things?”

“I already have,” you sing-song, narrowing your eyes playfully as if in deep warning. “But I won’t always do.”

( ♡ )

Jungkook first realized that you loved him when he missed a single step on the staircase and tumbled a whole flight.

It was 3 AM then, the reason behind his sudden trip downstairs being the fever you developed overnight when you had just gotten home from a ski trip. He had put a wet towel in the freezer in the afternoon and he was supposed to put it on you before you went to sleep. Jungkook must’ve beat himself up for forgetting because he wakes up with a cold sweat, determined to put that frozen towel on you like his life depended on it.

Jungkook thought he was doing well by the way he could navigate clearly even with the sleep in his system, eyes still half-lidded and brain still half-working that he decides to rip out the largest yawn to man mid-step on the staircase — before he knows it, he’s woken up immediately to the bottom of it.

“Jungkook!” you yelled to him then in a panic, eyes wide and frantic to see him at the bottom of the stairs with a sheepish smile. Jungkook knew then that seeing you with a head-splitting migraine visible on your pale lips and fatigued eyes, scooping him up on your arms with nothing but scolding and fussing on rotation — he knew that you loved him more than you let on.

You know Jungkook loves you. So when the bed dips and your arms grow cold despite swearing up and down that the both of you have a free day today, you doubt for a second.

“What are you doing up so early?” you mutter, stifling a yawn to see Jungkook up without a complaint.

“Breakfast with my parents. My crazy aunt suddenly came over and they need backup,” Jungkook answers with a pained laugh, cussing himself for being such a filial son. “Don’t worry, I know you hate her plus you were up all night yesterday so I just told them you can’t come because you’re under the weather.”

You’re put at ease to hear him, sighing a breath of relief — good, Jungkook still loves you and doesn’t plan to leave you. It’s just an inkling you’ve had the last few weeks, the daunting realization that in a couple months’ time, it’ll be three years of marriage with him.

It’s the impulsive, less rational part of your brain that thinks Jungkook’s growing bored of you, confused of how he’s been perfectly content being your husband for almost three whole years.

You go with Jungkook all the way through downstairs, your playful teasing towards him about never yawning again on the steps giving him more amusement (and embarrassment) than necessary.

“Kook?” you question with a furrow in your brow, pointing at the dish that’s occupied still. “You forgot the car keys.”

“Oh. I’m not taking the car,” he smiles, shrugging to emphasize the jacket that he intentionally wore. You missed the detail somehow, the surprise in your voice more evident.

“You’re taking your motorbike?”

“Mhmm!” Jungkook hums pleasantly, the background music in his brain going from calm elevator music to rising bass rift. He’s just about to bid you goodbye with a kiss after he wears his gloves but he’s stopped even before he could come near. You’ve already read his mind.

Your husband knows it when you put your arms across your chest, nodding towards the cabinet with a tone that leaves no room for counterarguments.

“Go wear your full gear.”

“But the breakfast place isn’t even that far,” Jungkook whines, head tilting back. His gear was literally hot, protecting him from sunlight yet physically making him boil inside.

“I want you in one piece.”

“You want me?” Jungkook cheekily grins, eyebrows wagging incessantly with his arms outstretched. That’s it! If he could just act cuter and be a little more-

“Go wear your gear.”

“I look goofy,” he mutters, eyes downcast. The longer he goes without blinking, the faster he knows that he’s going to stick to your words.

“You look safe,” you smile in success when you put his helmet on, securing it extra tightly that draws a whine from him.

Jungkook frowns but he knows that you’re right as always, a relieved sigh coursing throughout his whole body because who knew where he’d end up without you.

“Ride safe, Jungkook. I mean it. Don’t pull any tricks,” you glare pointedly at him, recounting all of the near misses he had from wanting to be adventurous, be it a trip downstairs to the refrigerator or in the middle of a main thoroughfare.

“I promise not to pull a wheelie on the highway, yes,” Jungkook mockingly salutes you, drawing out a faux disappointed sigh from you.

“You’re forgetting something.”

Was he really? Jungkook furrows his brows in confusion, smacking his lips when he seems to get the gist of it. He walks towards you, puckering his lips to the max because he doesn’t want to headbutt you with a solid helmet for just a smooch, landing a gentle kiss on your cheek.

You appreciate it, but Jungkook’s not quite right.

“No, not that.”

“What?” he seems taken aback, suddenly realizing. “Oh!” he giggles, raising up his right hand in a pledge. “I promise to text you when I get there.”

“Good.”

You have to put more strength to drag Jungkook by the helmet, angling your head to the side to kiss so he doesn’t knock you in the forehead with the extremely safe (and extremely bulky) helmet you got him.

Jungkook smiles in contentment, clearing his throat as he revs his engine. It’s all good then. He had become worried in silence because your three years of marriage were approaching and got scared because what if you grew bored of him already?

Jungkook worries that he’ll mess things up with you one day, but with the way he can see you waving at him frantically on his side mirror when he just left, it’s okay.

He knows you still love him.

( ♡ )

Hoseok’s your most talented and trusted metalsmith.

His work ethic’s unparalleled, your vision only coming into fruition through his support and skill. He’s indispensable to you, your place in the direction of your family’s business cemented by Hoseok’s aid.

Hoseok as both an artist and your employee is different from Hoseok as your friend. Both are cunning but the latter is more ruthless, the lines being blurred every now and then. He loves his job, don’t get him twisted at all — in fact, he trusts you as a boss and the company beyond comprehension that he doesn’t bear any tact for anyone who threatens either.

Not even for Jungkook.

“A collab, huh?” Hoseok squints, looking through the portfolio you’ve handed him. There’s already projected numbers that your analysts have predicted for you but he pays the papers no mind. He clicks his tongue, looking up at you with an unreadable expression. “A streetwear brand wants a limited-edition collection with us?”

Jungkook clears his throat, timidly raising his hand. He’s always known that Hoseok’s standoffish to literally everyone except you, but what he can’t take is being talked about like he isn’t in the same room.

“Uhm, I’m Y/N’s husband.”

“Well you’re the owner of that streetwear brand, aren’t you?” Hoseok raises a brow at him, tilting his head. He looks drastically bored, his tongue poking his cheek.

Jungkook blinks, not exactly knowing where this was going but he doesn’t like it one bit. “Yes, but I’m also her husband.”

“Okay?” Hoseok tilts his head, eyes already exhausted from the conversation. You know that look on him, the one that tells you he’s bored to death and is itching to shut up the nearest person to him. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Jungkook rarely gets flustered by anyone else besides you and this time, it’s the bad kind. The embarrassment he gets from just conversing with Hoseok makes him feel like he’s an inconvenience, unease settling into his stomach. Jungkook wishes he couldn’t be so perceptive to know that despite Hoseok’s eyes normally being unreadable, his gaze now on his sketches can be read as underwhelmed.

“Well I-I mean, I’m hearing a lot of us and it sounds like you and Y/N, not me and Y/N,” he licks his lips, recognizing the insecurity that sticks to his tone like honey. Not only does he feel insulted as an artist, he also feels insufficient as a husband.

“That is what I’m saying though,” Hoseok trails off, hand vaguely gesturing for Jungkook to fill in the rest of the blanks. When he doesn’t, Hoseok does it for him. “It’s me and Y/N seeing this brand through. Not you and her.”

Jungkook blinks once, twice.

Hoseok isn’t wrong. No matter how much pain it brings Jungkook to admit it, Hoseok isn’t wrong. Your marriage may be for you and him alone, but your company– your artistry is only yours as much as it’s Hoseok’s. He has no place here and he feels it, his initial confidence that the collaboration he proposed was going to pass already dwindling by the millisecond.

“Hoseok’s right,” you cough, breaking their conversation. The tension was already too thick and you’ve barely made it halfway to looking at the entirety of the portfolio. “Reel it in, Jungkook.”

He’s jealous. He’s jealous and he forgot just how pathetic and insufficient one could feel when the green monster of heartburn decides to make an appearance. Jungkook just about doubts everything, from thinking of how your admiration for Hoseok is probably much higher than the admiration you have for him, to thinking if you even benefit from being arranged to him.

Hoseok looks over the designs, noting all the details silently.

“Huh. I see,” he hums, clearing his throat to try and keep all the crass words he has in mind to himself because you’re looking at him intently. “Skulls. Haven’t seen this one before.”

“You sketched this?” Hoseok nods every now and then, holding up the paper that had deep indents of the pencil on the paper to the point that it defeats the concept of a sketch. Your husband nods, and he wishes he hadn’t because Hoseok comments not a second later. “Figures.”

He hums, silently approving here and there of some concepts he could totally get behind. It’s not all rubbish content, but he can’t say that salvageable automatically equates to commendable.

“So? What do you think, Hobi?” you ask when the silence has gone long enough, having noticed that Jungkook already grew too quiet in your corner.

Hoseok calculates in his brain, looking from the portfolio and back to you. He tries not to clench his jaw for the sake of you silently pleading him to mince his words and actions, clasping his hands together.

“Yeah, it’s doable,” he nods, making Jungkook smile despite his ego being a little wounded. He’s bounced back miraculously, profusely thanking Hoseok with an unexplained eagerness to him. Before Jungkook could launch himself to further possibilities though, Hoseok calls for you.

“Y/N? A word, please?”

Jungkook looks back from the door, hesitant doe eyes flitting between the two of you. You don’t know exactly what’s going through his mind but you know better than to project, bidding him goodbye for the timebeing. “It’ll be quick.”

The most commendable trait you can attribute to Hoseok besides being your friend is his passion for your craft. He’s vision-oriented in the sense that he cuts straight to the chase before he could even lose the trail that the sudden burst of fervor leaves him.

“Meridian’s your baby. It’s your grandmother’s grandmother’s baby. It’s coveted. It has meaning,” Hoseok rambles, the sigh leaving him more concerned than it was relieved at being let out. He can’t mince his words now — he can’t put it in any other way besides the truth. “Collaborating with Jungkook cheapens it.”

“Hoseok.”

Your tone edges on a bite, clenching your jaw as you try to take everything in. Hoseok’s been your voice of reason for so long but you don’t know how to accept that voice now, the tinge of guilt slowly staining you because the back of your mind tells you that he isn’t wrong.

Jungkook’s streetwear brand is huge; whether or not you chalk it up to his name being linked to his family’s holding company that’s responsible for other designer brands, your husband’s brand specifically remains larger than life. It’s not a flawless brand, that much you’re sure of, but it’s still of great value.

Just perhaps not of the same degree that Hoseok holds your company to.

“It’s not all bad, but most of his work is dispassionate. It’s typical. Meridian would look cheap if you commit to this fever dream collaboration.”

There’s a rash on your neck, one that’s warm and speaks to your ear of how shitty it must feel to even agree partially to what Hoseok’s saying. Your duties as an artist in the business rarely clash with your courtesies as Jungkook’s wife — today just happens to be one of those days.

“It’s Jungkook’s idea, okay?” you relent, voice low as if in defeat of admission. You don’t mean to belittle him, you just happen to know and listen to reason. “It’s not the best, I know, but it’s honest work. Let’s give him a chance.”

“You’re giving him a chance because he’s your husband, not because you see any potential.”

Hoseok says it without uttering nor a single sense of doubt. He sounds so definite that you don’t even know if he’s still insulting Jungkook or if he’s insulting you at this point, swallowing your words.

There’s truth to your craft but you know there’s an even bigger truth to the unspoken protectiveness you have over Jungkook, the answer sounding seemingly shallow but that’s what it really is — love makes you shallow as much as it makes you deep.

“You’ll know when you’re married.”

“Arranged would be the term for you and Jungkook. Not married,” Hoseok quips. “You’re only holding back your critique. We both know it’s a dead end when it comes to creative direction.”

The both of you leave it at that, the decision being unanimous to collaborate with Jungkook despite your metalsmith’s hesitance. What you say goes, that’s just how hierarchy works.

Unbeknownst to you and Hoseok though, Jungkook’s been listening the whole time — that’s just how love operates sometimes; hidden and relinquished.

( ♡ )

Jungkook’s hurt.

How crude of Hoseok to think of him that way. How worse of you to agree even.

Jungkook’s irrational when he’s hurt, refusing to see reason. He knows at the back of his head that he’s hit a rut and pitching in a collaboration with your brand is his last-ditch attempt in sparking something. Cheap was a word for tackiness and to have your friend use it on him brings him to a new low.

It’s just jewelry. What you make is just jewelry. Just pieces of metal bended and soldered together with shiny gems that don’t possess any real meaning to them besides superficial.

It’s not that deep.

Not that deep to the point that when Hyejoo, his childhood friend turned actress turned fleeting appearance in his life every now and then (whom you hate for some reason), asks him for a favor — Jungkook barely hesitates.

Hyejoo stands before him in a shirt from his brand’s limited collection, one out of the only hundred ever made. If Jungkook recalls correctly, he didn’t even send any items from the limited collection to any of his friends; he left everyone besides you to go fend for themselves.

Perhaps his childhood friend’s truly a fan of his craft, knowing her for her utmost support towards all his releases. To be honest, the two of them aren’t even that close anymore to the point that they’re each other’s first friend to think of in dire circumstances, except now — now when she needs him for a favor.

“But I need a pink ring for the event, Jungkook!” Hyejoo whines, throwing her head back for dramatic effect. Truth be told, she knew no brand that had pink jewelry that was elegant enough for her taste except yours. She’s turned down sponsorships all for a ring you probably keep in your sock drawer. “Yes I can buy from other brands but you’re there, Kook. You’re available and I can borrow from you because your wife has a shit ton.”

Jungkook knows what Hyejoo’s talking about. It’s the one pink ring that you wore on your engagement party with him and it’s become the talk of everyone from how ethereal you looked, the one tiny piece of jewelry tying it all together.

He knows it’s pink and he knows it’s just hidden away in its jewelry box, one that you keep right next to his collection of watches. There was no fancy vault for it either, just tucked next to his timepieces as if they were of the same value.

“Come on, she won’t even notice,” Hyejoo urges him, making him inwardly cringe. She turned up on his front door unannounced asking for a favor and he feels indebted her for the last time she granted him one, the apartment complex that Hyejoo owned becoming the perfect backdrop to his collection that’s still renowned to this day.

Jungkook’s loyal, he knows he is. His loyalties lie with you and he still honors his debt — whether or not you’re caught in the middle. It’s true that you won’t even notice, you don’t even peek at it anyway! For someone who’s a part of a family of jewelers, you rarely accessorize yourself gaudily.

“Fine. I’ll let you borrow,” Jungkook mutters, finally relenting to Hyejoo’s requests. He opens the door wider, on the way to your shared bedroom but looks back hastily at Hyejoo to point a stern finger. “But give it back, okay?”

It takes a great amount of strength for Jungkook to even hand the ring to Hyejoo, not even including the box with her because a) you would know that it was missing, and b) he wants her to wear it at all times until she gives it back the next day. Jungkook takes it personally to flick her wrist to serve as a reminder that he had given it to her already, even going so far to take a picture of the two of them and make her sign on his notes app.

He’s not necessarily betraying you — or so he thinks. It was just jewelry that you wouldn’t miss, same as the shirts that he gives away to his friends. Their retail prices may be lightyears away but you would understand; you always do.

Jungkook gaslights himself into thinking that he did no wrong but the guilt is what slowly gnaws on him, the tips of his fingers going numb every time he looks at you.

Come to think of it, his decision to lend your ring to Hyejoo was out of sheer pettiness even without the assurance that you’ll take notice of it. His hurt over Hoseok’s comment disappeared the moment he handed her your ring, but to his surprise, it’s anxiousness that replaces his irritation.

He kisses you good night still as if today didn’t happen; how his irrationality had gotten the best of him when he got hurt by Hoseok’s remarks over his passion and creativity, and just a few hours later, it’s his impulsiveness and misplaced urge for vindication that lent your unsuspecting ring to his childhood friend.

“Jungkook!” you yell out in panic, urging him awake instantly that his heart beats incessantly despite being pulled out of sleep. You look frantic, the rawness in your eyes not from your lack of sleep, but instead from tears. “Call 911. The Interpol! The CIA! The fucking Blue House!”

“What?! What happened?!”

He’s panicked just as you are, hands shakily clutching his phone. He looks you up and down and inspects you for injuries to which there are none, nothing but overwhelm making your body shake.

Jungkook can’t bear to see you so glum and helpless, your bottom lip trembling as you look at him feeling nothing but pathetic.

“My ring,” you whisper brokenly, the phantom feeling of wearing it making you sob even more. “My ring is gone.”

Jungkook’s mouth dries, the panic in his own body turning against himself, his remorse growing into something larger than life. He could physically see the confusion on your face on the way he paled, his phone dropping out of his hold.

Your husband’s hands reach for you but you don’t take them, recoiling even before he could open his mouth. Jungkook was readable — too readable to the point that you wish he had lied to your face instead.

“I-I can explain.”

Jungkook weakens by the knees when the words drape from the tip of his tongue, your chest sucking in an inhale so sharp that he gets weakened by the force of it. “I lent it to Hyejoo.”

You’re quiet, the type of rage in you simmering ever so slowly that it builds to an immense heat. You don’t know if you can ever muster to look at Jungkook in the eye, your middle finger that knows the grooves of your ring twitching in muscle memory.

“You what?” you croak, tilting your head. You know what you’ve heard but you just wish you’re mistaken this time, cursing your own accuracy. “Who told you that you could do that?”

Jungkook’s cornered in his mind and he spews the first thing in his mind, no matter how stupid it sounded.

“Yours is mine and mine is-…”

“That doesn’t apply here! You’re so fucking-…” you just about burst in the seams, clenching your jaw so hard to the point that you give yourself a headache. You’re resolute this way, the pitiful look on your husband’s face not getting a single drop of remorse from you. “Get it back.”

You wouldn’t have lent it to anyone regardless if Jungkook asked you, but you would have considered at the very least. For him to take something so special to you and loan it to someone you’re not even fond of ticks a wire in your brain, your anger coming before the sadness fully hits.

“Y/N!” he hisses, angry at both the situation and himself but he now thinks of the courtesy that he didn’t possess when Hyejoo borrowed your ring. “I can’t turn back on my word.”

“What? Your word that favors Hyejoo and shits on mine?” you scoff in disbelief, laughing at the mockery Jungkook makes of you. It’s insulting and saddening and you can’t even begin to think of the extensive cleaning and safekeeping you’ll have to do once you get your ring back. “I said, get it back. You’re my husband and you’re just her friend, you have all the means to take my ring back.”

Jungkook turns somber, a stark contrast to your anger. He pleads with you, finally closing the gap between you to which you roll your eyes.

“The event is tonight. She’ll return it tomorrow. Please, it’ll be embarrassing.”

“For you or for her?” you ask but the rage in your voice is already simmering, the daunting thoughts of how Jungkook thinks of his friend’s sake and himself first than his wife making you clench your fists around nothing.

“Y/N, please.”

His incessant begging does little to influence your decision because you’ve already changed your mind, the rage that dipped in you and the fact that your heart’s already aching despite having just woken up converting you instead.

“Tomorrow morning. I want it back in the case before I wake up.”

The two of you sleep apart for the night and Jungkook can’t even bring himself to contest it knowing that he doesn’t deserve to hold you. He simmers in self-loathing, unable to sleep the night when his phone dings from the notifications it has of your name.

Hyejoo’s look on the carpet trends the whole night, the main focus of everyone being the pink ring that adorns her ring finger. There’s threads of speculations how you and her are either best friends or how she must’ve bought it from you. If only he could, Jungkook would reply to each comment saying that Hyejoo doesn’t hold a candle to your elegance and how the ring has always been yours — that it’s his fault that his friend’s even wearing the same piece.

He’s restless and he can’t even begin to think how much more tired you feel. Of your name being brought up and of him royally fucking up.

When Jungkook thinks it couldn’t be worse, karma one-ups him from the very mistake he committed when he entertained Hyejoo’s favor in his mind.

“You’re stupid,” you spit to Hyejoo who stands on your porch, head downturned in shame. She had half the decency to face you personally but lacks the rest to honor her end of the bargain; she lacks the intellect to respect you.

She lost the ring. She lost the pink ring you’ve treasured and cared for since you were a teenager, losing it after a careless and drunk decision of skinny dipping. You feel like you’ve been made a fool not only by your husband, but also by his friend that you don’t care for at all.

The tears fall out of your eyes in anger, each one being in a rush to exit because you’re full of resentment at this point.

“You’re a brainless, stupid, careless fucking idiot. I don’t want to see you in my household again,” you point at her, making her step back.

“This is Jungkook’s-…” she squeaks, just about to correct you when you point at her even more menacingly. You’re not even joking around as it seems like, eyes angry to the point that they lack of love, even for Jungkook who tries to hold you back.

“I’ll get a restraining order on you.”

Hyejoo scurries out all with the promise to reimburse you (as if she has the money to do so) that falls on deaf ears, your hand slamming the door too hard that your husband swears the walls shook with your force.

You look unrecognizable with the sheer disappointment you have for him, your anger dripping off of you thickly that he’s rendered speechless.

“You,” you seethe. “I fucking hate you.”

You never told him that before.

You’ve gotten mad at him on several occasions but never to this degree where you tell him that you loathe him. This is the furthest that you’ve took it, the honesty behind your words making his bottom lip tremble.

Jungkook’s eyes have been perpetually moist since last night but it’s only now that his eyes sting with white hot sadness. You’re only reacting out of your state of overwhelm; you must be, right?

“I hate you so, so much, Jungkook.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“No, I really mean that,” you scoff to his face, shaking your head in absoluteness. “What would you do if I sold your car, huh?”

Jungkook wants to apologize to you so bad but he doesn’t have the right words to give you the proper one that you deserve. He gives you an answer off the top of his head, the disappointment for himself growing if he does otherwise.

“It’s just a car.”

“Well this is just not a fucking ring to me! It’s not simple like that!” you burst, your movements jerky.

“I’ll buy you a new ring,” he whispers, wanting to tug at his hair for being so stupid. He should’ve considered the possibility that Hyejoo has a knack for being careless; he failed to account that he went behind your back to lend your ring to someone else in the first place.

“I can buy my own rings!” you exclaim. “What you don’t get is that this means the world to me! If your uncle gave you a car, and I gave it to someone else and now it’s on the bottom of the ocean, what would you feel?”

“It’s just a car from my uncle. I can replace it. I can buy a better one.”

Jungkook knows he’s just making excuses. He’s just being defensive now that he’s cornered and has no excuse for behaving so poorly. He can’t escape the anger and the disappoint he’s flooded with, not when you cry out of sheer distress.

“Not if my aunt isn’t here! Not if this ring is one of the only things I have of her!”

Sure, your aunt was dodgy. She’s the black sheep of your family and had done more than a lot of questionable things, but she cared for you. She had given you her own ring when you were twelve and whilst it was too big for you to wear, she gave you a chain for you to wear it around your neck.

The ring is something you can easily replicate but the thought behind it is what you can’t take back. It’s not the only piece of her that you have but it’s one of the earliest things you obtained; one of the most notable pieces out of the bunch.

“You don’t think. You don’t care. You don’t love.”

For Jungkook to carelessly seize it from you and loan it to someone else grips your heart like a vice. You’re gonna dwell on it for more than a couple of days and realize that you have more sentimental and elegant things you have of your aunt eventually — but what matters to you is how you feel now. How Jungkook had disappointed you so bad, you feel like throwing up.

“I want to divorce you,” you seethe, meaning your words at the heat of the moment. Jungkook stands frozen, hearing his own heartbeat thrum in his ears. “I can find a new husband. What I can’t find — what neither you nor Hyejoo can’t find is my ring.”

( ♡ )

You do it while he’s sleeping.

You take advantage of Jungkook’s fatigue and disorientation from crying his eyes out, passed out in the couch while he hugs himself with his arms to try and replicate your embrace. It’s already morning and it only looks like he slept just minutes ago, positively dozed off.

You take much care in slipping of the platinum wedding ring from his finger, joining your discarded one in your palm. There’s only carelessness when you scoop them into a tiny drawstring bag, taking it to Hoseok and doing a regular work day as if your head hadn’t pounded with hurt just last night.

It’s only convenient for the both of you; Jungkook’s decision slingshots back to him, and your client would be happy. Hoseok texted you last night asking if he should grant the request of a high-profile client with a titanium pendant, and it just so happens that you have two chunks of it that you no longer need. It could be melted and repurposed — after all, it’s just jewelry according to Jungkook.

The guilt of your impulsiveness doesn’t hit you instantly, it only comes with confusion when you see your husband in shambles.

When you come home, the whole house is upturned. Jungkook’s frantic, waking up to a hand that bears no wedding ring; no proof of you. His eyes glaze with relief briefly when he sees you, urging you to take in the situation fully.

“The police. The CIA! Interpol! MI6 — or is it MI7? Fuck, Mr. Bean’s movie was too good! Get the Blue House on the line!” he blubbers, looking back and forth the cushions of the couch and his hand. “My wedding ring!”

It’s perhaps a ballsy move made on your part, but you can’t guilt yourself into bearing the blame. You made your wedding rings and it only makes sense for you to get rid of them. The bands are symbolic, made and upheld with love for the last two years but in your haste of upset, you’ve given them away.

You perhaps regret it slightly, the fog in your brain lifting but only faintly. You’re still mad and disappointed at Jungkook, and perhaps you don’t mean the bit of divorcing him, but you do mean wholeheartedly the sentimentality you have behind all your jewelry.

The platinum in your ring finger just felt too heavy last night that you grew weary of it, not thinking twice when you removed yours and Jungkook’s. Even if the two of you make up and you don’t end up divorcing Jungkook, you wouldn’t want to wear the same ring that brought you the same pain during its stint.

“I sold them,” you answer, turning your back on him before you could see the anguish in his face. “We have no need for them.”

( ♡ )

Jungkook’s making you a rice bowl as an apology.

Buttered fried rice, egg, bacon, and all with a generous amount of cheese. It’s his hangover food when he needs something greasy and filling but the only difference from his past hangovers and your anger at him is the latter barely feels like it could be rectified.

He says his apologies again through the door and he’ll happily repeat it to your face if you stand longer in front of him for more than a minute, his panic even larger than the oil splashes he’s gotten from making your bacon eagerly.

“I’m so sorry, baby. It was stupid of me to lend your ring to Hyejoo behind your back and I swear I won’t do it again. I know that ring meant a lot to you and I-I was so pathetic by invalidating that,” he mutters through the door, looking at the frying pan every now and then to make sure he wasn’t burning anything. “I have every intention of finding your ring and making it up to you, cross my heart!”

It feels insulting, even. For him to think that he could change the ache of your heart with a simple hot meal. Jungkook realizes that he really is dense when you don’t answer the door for the twenty minutes that he knocks. When you do open up, he feels even more dumb.

Just twenty minutes ago, he wired you twice the amount of the worth you estimated your aunt’s ring to be. Combined with the pitiful amount Hyejoo wires you, it’s then do you realize that you’re not fazed by money. The initiative is there, sure, but the ache in your heart hasn’t subsided completely.

You do miss Jungkook. It does tug at your heartstrings to see and hear him beat himself up over and over again the more you realize that you’re attached to your aunt’s memories rather than the ring itself, but just two nights away from each other won’t absolve everything he’s done and failed to do.

When you open the door, you’re greeted by the sight of your husband who tries far too hard for his own good. Melancholy isn’t a good look on him because he looks the most unkempt he’s ever appeared in two days than the two years you’ve been living with him under the same roof.

Jungkook waits for you to register his attempt, holding up a hot bowl with his bare hands that you resist the urge to take it from him for a second. His ring finger’s occupied by a cheap mood ring, rapidly turning red at the moment from the heat of the bowl.

You look down fully expecting to be swayed even just a little bit, but when you do, you feel the kick to just slam the door right back.

“I hate runny eggs,” you scowl. “Two years married and you don’t even know how I like my eggs cooked.”

Jungkook wants the ground to swallow him whole.

He wishes that if it was true that chickens are the last true descendants of dinosaurs, there’d be a chicken the same size as them that pecks him into oblivion.

He hurriedly turns on the stove and scoops up the egg back into it, careful not to have any of the runny folk get on your meal. He itches in frustration, his ring finger that’s temporarily adorned with a cheap and clunky mood ring being accurate by turning blue in sadness.

Jungkook’s so out of it, so disappointed in himself that he doesn’t notice he cooks the egg until it’s burnt, the char of it reflecting how poorly he thinks of himself now.

It’s like when you were disappointed in him that time when his outlandish aunt made a rude comment about you and you were speechless the whole night that he stayed silent. He remedied it by later groveling at your feet and marching to his aunt and laying out all of his intentions for her to grow up and apologize to you, the same aunt that’s now blacklisted from all the gatherings.

It’s like when you were upset at him when he left abruptly in the morning and didn’t tell you where he was going because he didn’t know if you would care, partying it up in a different country for his friend’s bachelor’s party and coming home a day later with you hot on his heels. Jungkook made it up to you by once again apologizing profusely and updating you on his whereabouts since then (sometimes he gives too much information), always making it a point to bring two powerbanks with him so he can text you when he’s left and arrived.

This time though, he doesn’t know how exactly to make it up to you. He’s been in contact with professional divers to try and look for the ring for you, but he can’t be of much help until he comes along to know for sure. He’s thinking of all these different ways and approaches but he’s unsure if any of them are sufficient enough to rectify his mistake.

Jungkook feels pathetic because he swears he loves you and knows everything about you, but here he is — crying about how he doesn’t even know how you like your eggs cooked.

You’re upset at him, and he can’t do anything right for you.

( ♡ )

Jungkook tries again at dinner.

It’s the day of Meridian’s 100th anniversary and the two of you play it up for the cameras, your husband’s attention on you so keen and affectionate that you almost forget you were supposed to be mad at him.

He takes advantage of the cameras during the carpet session, tugging you close with his hand on your waist as he seizes the chance to hug you tightly at the end when you enter the hall with no cameras in place. He breathes you in as he always does, hesitant to let you go and exhale because you’re the very scent and existence of love.

Jungkook studied, of course he did. He’s touched up on his jewelry knowledge because he’s more than desperate now to seek your validation, nervously smiling all around as he waits for people to stop approaching you in your table.

His attention’s fixed on your necklace, the stone on it similar to the very ring he lent and lost. He’s brought it up about five times already, animatedly reciting trivia about it as if you’re not the literal face of the jewelry industry. He clears his throat, leaning in for you to whisper intimately, but just loud enough for the other people to hear a tad.

“Ah, that pink sapphire looks so good on you, babe.”

“Shut up,” you mutter sharply, making Jungkook’s heart skip a beat. You melted against him when he was hugging you, that much he was sure of. He doesn’t know why you’ve become harsh again all of a sudden, forgetting that his lapse this time was opening his mouth. “Stop saying that.”

“Saying what?” his brows furrow, swallowing the lump on his throat. “Pink?” he guesses, eyes wavering as he tests the waters. “Pink sapphire?”

It takes a lot in you not to make an outburst. Truth be told, you’ve started easing up on Jungkook but his attempts at trying hard is just too much and in the wrong direction, hearing pink sapphire over and over again reminding you of the ring you lost.

“Yes, that! Stop talking.”

“But I did my homework! Of course I’m not gonna stop talking,” he defends himself, the nervousness rising to his throat like bile. God, what if he did the wrong homework? What if he’s missed the assignment all along?

“Clearly you didn’t try hard enough because you’re wrong, Jungkook. This isn’t a pink sapphire — this is a pink diamond.”

Jungkook’s brain stops functioning for a solid five seconds, his mouth drying. The only proof that he was still breathing is his big eyes threatening to water.

“And so is my ring that you gave to your friend without asking me,” you add.

“What?!” he sputters in disbelief, recounting to all the other times he named the gem in multiple occasions even before today. “B-but I said it so many times before! You didn’t even correct me!”

“I didn’t correct you because you looked so proud of yourself!” you exclaim, surrendering with a sigh. Pink sapphire was the first gem that Jungkook had managed to name in your trivia night on the first month of your marriage, his avidness on getting it “right” so contagious that you didn’t have the heart to correct him.

“Pink sapphire is dirt cheap compared to pink diamonds, Jungkook! You just keep saying sapphire over and over again because it’s your birthstone,” you mumble, looking around to see if there were any people growing nosy at your conversation. “I let you say it over and over again to the point that I wore them instead of diamonds because you just can’t shut up about them,” you grit.

This is the only time you reference your sentiment with the jewelry itself in words, your last profession of your disappointment in him being the removal of your wedding bands.

“That’s the thing with you — you can’t tell. This isn’t just about emerald o-or octagon cuts, Jungkook. This is our marriage and you gave a girl that I don’t like my ring that meant so much to me! Now you can’t get it back.”

Jungkook’s speechless, holding back tears. You fear you’ll cry yourself when you look at his round, pleading eyes so you don’t, squeezing in the last word even if he always lets you have it.

“And now I’m correcting you because you’re embarrassing me. Now please, lay off with the gem terms.”

( ♡ )

Things have been tame between you and Jungkook.

You’ve aired out your grievances and Jungkook’s still trying hard as always, perplexing you because he hasn’t gone restless. It’s progressively warmer between the two of you but it’s nowhere near to what the two of you used to be, the air between the two of you going static that you’ve utilized it for your own.

It’s just a quick getaway for the day, hopping aboard a yacht with the intention of giving yourself a break. You’ve reflected enough but not alone with yourself, the period of space with Jungkook being much-needed.

Until you’re mistaken of course.

You think your mind’s playing tricks on you when the boat rocks more than it would with waves, but the all too familiar figure coming into your vision turns out to be real. It’s Jungkook in the flesh, wearing his scuba suit and gear.

It’s a pure coincidence that is. All Jungkook knew was that you were going on a yacht today and you didn’t specify where; meanwhile, all you knew was that he was going to be scuba diving, but he didn’t specify where either.

It’s purely kismet but your bodyguard Taehyung doesn’t seem to think so, legitimately thinking it was a pirate instead of your husband so he repeatedly smacks him with an oar until you stop him.

“Jungkook!” you call out, getting your bodyguard to stop. Atleast he has the decency to look sheepish, but he was genuinely concerned! He thought you were being hijacked by someone dressed in the most unassuming scuba suit, holding a plastic bag in his hands.

Your husband barely winces from the pain because he’s high from all the adrenaline, chest rising rapidly in succession. “Y/N, baby, I — hold on, I’m gonna, wait-…”

He looks tired still but there’s a light to him, either his radiance has come back or it was just the sun behind him but either way, it was nice to look at Jungkook who isn’t groveling at your feet for once.

He finally catches his breath, standing up to his full height as he tries not to ramble his words.

“I bought all the fish.”

“You did what?” your eyes widen, pathetically looking at the vast ocean around you. Perhaps you’re so startled (and amused) by Jungkook’s sudden and silly appearance that you forgot to apply common sense, just as breathless as he is.

“Okay maybe not all, but I did buy a lot of fish,” he concedes, nodding incessantly. He’s too excited that he can’t contain himself, even more-so when you finally look at him without disdain staining your features.

“For what?” you ask, genuinely curious.

Jungkook smiles, never having been more proud retelling you his previous failure.

“Your favorite seafood restaurant? I bought them their stock, provided that they’ll open up every last fish in there to see if they had your ring,” he shrugs as if it’s a common thought process to abide by, later shaking his head. “They don’t.”

If there’s just one trait that Jungkook had to be known with by everyone, it would be his persistence.

Jeon Jungkook is endearingly, cloyingly, and annoyingly persistent with the things he desires and the things he’s passionate about. You’re his wife — you’re his every last desire and passion. He had wronged you fresh from a week and some days ago but that timeframe has already given him ample time to fully redeem himself.

He can’t undo what he did. He can’t reverse the time he lent his wife’s ring to his friend who loses it not a full day later. Jungkook can’t take back any of the things he did but what he can do is be dedicatedly persistent in correcting himself.

He’s tanner, his muscles are bulged and straining, and his skin’s itchy with all the salt but he takes all of these things in stride — he’s become a better person through persistence.

“I also tried snorkeling for a week and I still couldn’t find it,” he trails, biting his bottom lip while he clasps his hands behind his back. “But I tried again today.”

It’s either relief or endearment that fills your face full, but nonetheless, the light that Jungkook sees from you lulls him to the comfort and warmth he’s been yearning from you for the past week. His eyes are strained and his body feels itself moving in waves as if he was still underwater, but he just closes his eyes to savor the moment.

You bound to him to put him in an embrace, your husband instantly melting in your hold. It’s either all the salt in his eyes or it’s just the realization that you’ve finally forgiven him and it’s all the love he feels for you, but either way, you hold Jungkook tighter.

“I found your ring.”

( ♡ )

You don’t know when Jungkook first loved you.

You can’t pinpoint an exact moment when Jungkook started acting differently towards you because he’s always been the same way from day one, the same qualities that make him both annoying and endearing having been there from the start.

You could always ask but you can’t bring yourself to. It shouldn’t bother you at the end of the day because the important thing is that Jungkook loves you. He loves without reservations, the pinnacle of his love language being his patheticness in trying hard.

Jeon Jungkook may try hard for everyone, but he tries the most for you.

He wakes up early and you only realize his absence when you turn to pat the warm space he’s supposedly left behind, making you rub the sleep out of your eyes.

You wonder for a second that if Jungkook left the bed early and is quiet at the moment, he’s probably at the bottom of the staircase again because he yawned while going down. There’s no schedule today for either of you and you aren’t sick for him to make any sudden trips downstairs, his absence making you wonder this time.

There’s clanging coming from the garage, piquing your interest largely. There sits Jungkook wearing less safety gear that you’d like, blocks and blocks of wood surrounding him.

Your husband looks up, unassuming as usual while he breaks out into a grin.

“I’m making furniture for you.”

“That’s not necessary,” you snort, recounting all of the pieces you’ve acquired from your friend who’s an expert on woodcarving. Jungkook seems to know this too but he’s insistent, shaking his head eagerly.

His eyeglasses (his prescription ones instead of the actual safety ones) fog up from both his sweat and the few tears he’s shed out of frustration, taking them out so you could see the passion in his eyes. The passion’s definitely there, dampening his eyelashes and even tinting his eyelids pink.

“No, I’ll paint it up real good and it’ll blend it to your aesthetic.”

“Besides that, Jungkook,” you warn, coming down to squat on the space beside him. “You’re not good with tools.”

“Not good at them like Hoseok?” he questions, raising his brow. He’s frustrated and cranky and he just compared his (eager yet improper) use of large power tools compared to Hoseok’s expertise in using much, much smaller tools. Jungkook’s sweaty from all the effort, vaguely gesturing to the item in front of him. “Please, can Hoseok do it like me?”

Your husband points to the lopsided bench (?) slash coffee table (?) slash abstract piece (?) in front of you whose message is that they’re tired, only the scoopers for faux blood missing. It’s quite the spectacle. Not necessarily a statement piece because it raises more questions than any resolute takeaways at all.

“No, not really,” you joke around, winking to get the joke across your husband’s skull who sometimes reads between the lines too literally. “He can do it much, much better than you.”

“I’m trying to be romantic!” Jungkook whines with no real harm. “Go ahead, why don’t you divorce me and marry him because he’s so good with using a hammer?”

The two of you were back; the same playfulness and warmth rekindling, if not stronger. Some things were just too strong to grow out of, such as Jungkook’s double takes when it comes to another name being linked to you.

He’s just making sure, still as desperate to gain your validation even before the ring incident took place.

“That was… a joke if you couldn’t tell,” Jungkook laughs robotically, eyes narrowing and widening at you every two seconds. “I’m just kidding. You knew that. You wouldn’t do that… right?”

You wouldn’t.

He knows that you love him. He had known it during his state of vulnerability and he knows it now even in a state of security. He knows it even without a wedding ring, your promise of making new ones for the both of you remaining in his mind.

The downfall of Jeon Jungkook wouldn’t be his persistence that also bears the ability to be his uprising, it was never that. Jungkook’s downfall would only be the loss of you and it’s the only absence that he can’t risk.

Your husband tries so hard that it brings you secondhand embarrassment at times, his mishap with the pink sapphire cementing in your mind just how much of himself he dedicates to you, even with lapses along the way.

Jungkook tries so hard that he ends the day with splinters on his hand and his sinuses clogged with far too much dust. His effort doesn’t always equate to the best but he gives what he always has when you’re in the equation.

It’s a wooden box for your rings, a shallow heart with your initials carved on the inside. It’s smooth even without the varnish, a stark contrast to his hands that are all rough from doing all the labor.

“I can’t give you jewelry that you already have.”

Jungkook admits to you whole-heartedly, sitting at the end of the bed while he watches you admire the box in your vanity.

“But I can make shirts for you. Stitch up your name real nicely on my chest pocket,” he offers, the smile on his lips growing. “I can make furniture for you,” he shrugs, chuckling at himself. “I can’t guarantee that it’s usable but I can make furniture a little.”

You smile so warmly that Jungkook forgets all of the little pains, melting away his fatigue. If you could put all the love you have for Jungkook in a single space, even the mansion the two of you reside in won’t be enough.

“Cooking too. I can also cook a-and make perfect rice and I promise to remember how you like your eggs in the morning.”

Jungkook knows it to heart by now, even without the reminder he’s written himself pasted on the counter. Your eyes were just so glossy and moist that Jungkook can’t help but to spring to your side, patting them dry with his shirt.

Your husband wipes away your tears even before they could form and it pushes them out further, the voice in your throat dwindling. It’s the cheap and rusting mood ring on his ring finger that gets you to sob, seeing the faint green outline that it leaves.

He takes notice of your observation, understanding that jewelry means much more to you that he could comprehend which is why he’s quick to remedy your thoughts.

“I can always get tattoos of you if that’s what you want,” he continues, smiling sheepishly. “Actually, that’s what I want.”

Jungkook takes off his ring and it forces you to blink away your tears, lips parting open when it clicks.

It’s your initials on Jungkook’s ring finger, recognizing it as your own handwriting.

You’re filled with a great amount of gratitude that runs even deeper than the ink on Jungkook’s skin, making you sniffle and it gets him to bury your face against his chest while he shushes you.

“Why would you get that?”

It belatedly hits you that since you took your wedding bands, your husband’s left ring finger had not been vacant since.

“Because you sold our rings,” Jungkook shrugs, the look of ease on his face evident. “You sold them but we’re still married to each other,” he gently kisses your temple, letting you hold his hand to look at the tattoo closer. “We’re married. I still want people to know that I’m married to you.”

“Well,” you clear your throat, distraught with your emotions. “Your mood ring says you’re sad.”

“Passionate would be the term,” he sniffles, transferring the cheap ring to your finger. He giggles when it changes colors immediately, the timing of the situation being impeccable. “Okay now my ring says you’re happy.”

“Are you?” he asks whilst laughing but the both of you know it bears a weight.

“I am,” you answer just as seriously. “We’re okay, Jungkook. I forgive you.”

If you ask Jungkook what would his greatest joy and his greatest pain be, both answers would be you.

“Is your tattoo artist still around?” you ask while he puts you close to his chest, snapping him out of his trance.

“What for?”

“I think I want to match your permanent ring.”

“Are you real?” he mutters to himself, questioning your existence that he still isn’t sure if he deserves to have and love for the rest of his life. “Are you really real? You exist?”

“Yeah, he’s still around but I’d rather do it on you myself,” Jungkook answers eventually, returning the question. “Is that okay? Let me learn for a few months and I’ll tattoo my initials on you myself?”

You furrow your brows, not a single doubt placed on you if your husband was the one to tattoo you. “Yeah, but is that okay with you? You’re the only one who’s gonna have me on you for a couple more months. I can’t reciprocate because you want to ink me yourself.”

Jungkook only smiles, the warmth enough to outshine the sun.

“That’s not new to me,” he reassures you. “I loved you even before I married you.”

#thank u for 2022 :) consider this as my gift for the holidays!!!#jungkook imagine #jungkook oneshot #jungkook oneshots #jungkook angst #jungkook angst imagine #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook au #jungkook scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x you #bts jungkook imagine

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onlyhyunjin · 1 month ago

Text

𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐉𝐈𝐍 𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒!

(♡) - my personal favorites (🔞) - CONTAINS NSFW CONTENT

CAROUSEL - @h5eavenly ( Queen Bee the most popular girl around campus Song Y/N was envied by everyone. After making a bet with her best friend Yeosang her life takes a turn for the worse, she doesn't expect the only person to stick by her side to be her ex-first love and long time enemy - Hwang Hyunjin.) (♡)(🔞)

WHEN TULIPS KISS - @cupidcures (you and hyunjin were THE couple back in high school, and the two of you thought that you had found your perfect match. until one day, one misunderstanding turned everything around.) (♡)

WHEREVER YOU ARE - @hyunverse (Hyunjin promised you that he'll be wherever you are. What do you do when your best friend of years — the only person you've ever loved disappears without saying goodbye? Especially when you've spent your entire life with Hyunjin, you didn't know of life without him.) (♡)

ROLE PLAY - @milkandhyunnie (you and your husband try to spice things up by role playing as strangers during date night, but hyunjin just can’t hold in how much he loves his wife) (🔞)

THE BOY IS BAD NEWS - @milkandhyunnie (An aspiring journalist, you are the news editor for The Uni Chronicles; the campus newspaper, popular for delivering breaking news at the drop of a hat and providing detailed articles about the various happenings around your university. You think you’ve covered every story there was to cover before you’re tasked with producing an in-depth editorial on a student whose name is on everyone’s lips—Hwang Hyunjin.) (♡)

MINE - @milkandhyunnie (As a successful kpop idol, you never have time for romance or relationships. After getting your heart broken by men in the industry, you vow to never allow yourself to get hurt again. You try your best to avoid commitment but soon find yourself struggling to avoid catching feelings when you meet Hyunjin.) (🔞)

WHIRLWIND - @naeviskz (you overreact just a teensy bit when you see hyunjin talking to another girl, but when you find out the actual reason why … you try everything you can to make it up to him.)

WARM THEM UP - @yootaesowlwrites ( “Your hands are so cold, let me warm them up.”) (🔞)

THE JANITOR'S CLOSET - @jae-bummer (friends to lovers with hyunjin)

AN EYE FOR AN EYE - @astraystayyh (it is perhaps the most decisive night of your life. what are the odds that at the same time and place, it happens to be hyunjin’s too? )

A MEMORY KEPT FOREVER - @soobnny (a memory kept forever — hwang hyunjin. best friends to lovers. conversation inspired by a lumax scene in s4. )

WHAT YOU CALL THAT? - @minniesmutt (getting dragged to a concert at a small venue for an up-and-coming rock band, HONEY, brings Y/n a whirlwind of emotions towards the lead singer.) (♡)

HEART OUT - @jinhyun (when your long-term boyfriend left you for someone else, not only were you left to deal with a broken heart, but also with the discouragement of never finding true love in your life.after all, you were completely unaware of the fact that your best friend’s little brother fell head over heels for you the moment he first saw you six years ago, and he’d be damned not to show you, firstly, that he was no longer the teenage boy your mind made him up to be, and, secondly, that he would be the man to step up and love you right.) (♡)

LIKE IT - @mxnhoo ("a no-label relationship, how thrilling can it get?")

SURPRISE - @hanniebaeee (It's your birthday and your best friend hasn't even wished you, but he is out and about with his other bestie. But little do you know, they have something big planned for you.)

HATE TO LOVE YOU LOVE TO HATE YOU - @moonchild9350 (You hate your neighbor Hyunjin. Everything he does irks you to know end. You know Hyunjin feels the same way. The feeling is mutual, right?) (🔞)

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leqonsluv3r · 10 months ago

Note

picnic date with Leon 🥺

love

re2!leon kennedy x f!reader

— a oneshot (request)

warnings: so much fluff it’s kinda gross, a little touching, mentions of sex, reader is female and uses (she/her) pronouns, leon is the best boyfriend ever and we love him for that, no physical description of reader except that she has hair, pet names (baby, sweet girl, etc.) based heavily on love by lana del rey (leon is lana coded bc i say so).

“she didn’t know what else to expect to her already worse work week, besides the papers that always seemed to pile up on her desk and swarm her like a colony of hungry bees. she hated her job, wanted to slap her boss and her co-workers. so how could this week get any worse? she thinks it will when her phone buzzes with a text from leon, only to find out if she wants to go on a picnic date this weekend. suddenly, her week just got better by a thousand percent.”

— or reader is having a terrible week and leon decides to spoil his favorite girl

an: thank you for the request, i loved writing something that wasn’t pure smut for once. did include a little seggsy tho (i can’t resist). gave my overworked brain a little vacation lol. i took your idea and ran with it, hope you enjoy <3

masterlist taglist

she actually hated her boss. hated him.

aside from spilling coffee on herself this morning before she left for the office, she had a thousand reports on her desks and emails flooding her work inbox. her boss went on a rant about her work performance and the fact that he was almost using his superiority as a manager to make her feel belittled was enough to send her blood pumping through her veins.

but mindlessly, she tried to get through her day. taking deep breaths and trying not to freak out on her boss. only did her day get worse when she overheard gossip in the break room.

“i hear she’s like some prude. her boyfriend only touches her when he’s drunk.”

she listens in on the gossip, pouring herself some coffee that hopefully won’t make its way onto her pencil skirt again. she wondered who they could possibly be talking about so openly in the middle of the day in the break room.

the other voice goes on, one of her coworkers that she knew from working here so many years, “that’s not true. i know her personally. she told me she’s waiting for marriage.”

her ears perk up at this, all the blood draining from her face, she knew they were talking about her now. her worst fears have been confirmed. she should’ve never stupidly trusted someone she worked with to keep such information about her relationship with leon, private.

she felt so stupid. but they kept going and she kept listening. the other women who she didn’t know opened her mouth again, “still, how much of a prude do you have to be to wait until marriage? like just fuck and get it over with already. unless he’s ugly…”

she feels anger rise in her like tsunami. leon? ugly? he could never be ugly. he was so fucking beautiful. how could this random woman even say that about her and her relationship without even knowing her? she kept her back turned and waited for the coworker she was more familiar with to say something.

“he’s actually quite a looker. shame she got her hands on him, if i had a man like that. i would fuck him until he couldn’t see straight.” she fisted her porcelain coffee cup with white knuckles, almost fuming and waiting for steam to pour out of her ears. jesus, she wanted to smack this woman silly, she considered them friends and now she was just so openly bragging to another woman of the company…that she wanted to fuck her boyfriend of two years.

she fumed and briskly left the break room with her coffee, slamming the door to the room shut behind her as she briskly walked back to her office, trying to keep up a demeanor that was professional and meanwhile she was seething on the inside.

she finally reached her office and went inside, slamming the door as she rounded her desk and sat her cup of coffee down on it. she leaned her elbows on her desk, burying her hands into her hands.

she wanted to cry, this week had been terrible and today was one of the worst out of all of them. and she needed to manage to get through it until after tomorrow.

thanking god it was thursday, one more day and she wouldn’t have to think of this place for a solid 48 hours. she took shaky breaths, trying to calm herself so she didn’t cry at her desk at work. she was still fuming from hearing that conversation in the break room about her personal life.

eventually, her phone buzzed on her desk and she looked down at her phone. she sighs and shakes her head, praying it’s not another report or upset client. she can’t handle anymore of that today, or this week for that matter.

she grabs her phone and looks at the contact, it was leon, she sighs in relief and smiles as she opens the text thread, looking at the screen.

LEON <3 : hey baby, just wanted to check in on my break. hope your doing okay, know it’s been a rough one for u.

besides wanting to cry at my desk all morning. first my boss says my reports are useless and utter shit. then i hear two of my coworkers gossiping in the break room about me like it’s no big deal. i hate this place, this week has sucked :(

LEON <3 : whoa, what? oh my god. are you okay? i know that’s so stupid to ask considering everything u just told me but…god. i’m so sorry.

no, i’m humiliated. i feel like stabbing my eyes out with my pencils at my desk. i hate this place, i hate everyone. minus u ofc <3

but seriously, i can’t wait to get through tomorrow and just be done with this place. even if it’s for two days.

LEON <3 : hmmm, that reminds me. do you still plan on coming over on friday night?

uhhh, yeah. considering i haven’t seen you all week. unless your canceling on me. which just makes me wanna cry more :,)

LEON <3 : oh god no, fuck that. i would never cancel on you baby. i just have an idea. and i was wondering if you would like it, considering how stressful and overwhelming your week has been.

i’m listening….

LEON <3 : you still come over on friday night, you pack a change of clothes and we go for a picnic on saturday. i know a good spot. and plus, im a good cook.

you don’t have to…

LEON <3 : but i WANT too. i wanna make my girl happy after having such an awful week. you need this baby. don’t bother arguing with me >:)

fineeee i suppose i could pack an overnight bag, stay the whole weekend at your place. go on a little picnic and ACTUALLY enjoy myself for once.

LEON <3 : that’s the spirit my love :). don’t worry, i’ll take care of you this weekend. don’t stress and don’t worry. trust in your amazing boyfriend ;)

you are an amazing boyfriend. don’t let that boost your already enormous ego though lol. god, i miss you so much. i can’t wait to see you. :,)

LEON <3 : you only have a little less then 48 hours to go before you see my handsome face again. don’t worry your pretty head baby, i’ll make you forget all about this week. spoil the absolute shit out of you. <3

okay, i gotta get back to work before my boss comes in to belittle me some more about phone usage at work :,). i’ll see you soon babe, i love you.

LEON <3 : see you soon beautiful girl, i love you too. gotta go bust some criminals lol. ttyl :)

she sighs in content, a lovesick grin on her features. she felt so much better, just talking to him through text even. it was enough to make her heart swell with love and forget all about the incidents this week.

she couldn’t wait to see him on friday night, then go on a picnic on saturday like he promised. she needed him like air sometimes. and he had been pulling shifts so frequently at the station that she barely ever saw him.

it sucked, yes. but when they did get to see each other it was absolutely worth it. she knew that he was gonna stay true to his word like he always did. make her happy, spoil her and make her forget all about her sucky week at work.

she loved him so much, it was almost consuming sometimes. overwhelming to think that before she met him two years ago, she had never known love or that men like him could even exist.

god, she was praying for this weekend to come sooner. and hopefully, it would.

eventually she made it to friday, she managed to get through the day, working as hard as she could. she dealt with clients, dodged the lecturing of her boss and the gossiping of her coworkers.

she slipped out early, not really giving a fuck because all her work was finished as far as she was concerned. she had better places to be. like leon’s apartment for example.

she had packed an overnight bag that morning, watered her plants and made sure she had everything. she had kept her overnight bag stored in her car just so when she got off work, she could head straight over.

she sent him a text that she was off and she was heading over early, putting the car in reverse and leaving her works parking lot.

she drove down the familiar streets and roads until she made it to leon’s apartment, parking her car in the guest parking spot. she got out, grabbing her overnight bag and everything else she needed as she locked the car behind her.

she walked over to the gate to enter the complex, typing in the numbers and once it buzzed, she opened it and let herself in. she made her way up to the second floor, walking over to where his apartment was. she slipped her key to his apartment, unlocking the door and slipping off her shoes.

“baby? you home?” she calls out as she drops her overnight bag by her shoes, dropping her keys on the coffee table. she looks around, she feels a buzzing in her hand where her phone is. she looks at the text from leon saying he was on his way home from his shift.

she sighed and looked around his apartment, looking down at the coffee table where she sat her keys in front of his couch. she saw something sticking out from in between the pages of a book he was reading. “what the…?” she opened the book and looked in the book.

a piece of paper with scribbled writing over it, leon’s from what she recognized. she started to read the crumpled up piece of paper.

[READER],

ever since i’ve known you, i’ve loved you. i’ve never wanted anyone more then i’ve wanted you. i’m not just doing this in the hopes you’ll say yes, i’m doing this with the intention that you’ll let me love you for as long as we’re both alive.

i’m not doing it like this to be cliche, i know how much you think im corny. how hard i try to make sure you’re not laughing at me (even though i love your laugh more than anything.) i want you to know that i love you. i always have, i always will.

with that, will you please do me the honor of being my wife?

it would be my greatest achievement as man, as your boyfriend and future husband if you’ll let me.

she feels her eyes well up with subtle tears, wiping at her eyes as she looked down at the crumpled up notebook paper with a small smile, even though the letter didn’t say much, it said enough.

this was just more then a simple picnic, she knew now. why he was so keen on taking care of her this weekend. taking her out for a picnic tomorrow. she can’t believe he wanted to marry her, she wasn’t shocked but she was…she wanted to cry. it was almost like a dream come true.

she was about to re-read the note to make sure she wasn’t dreaming until she heard the lock on his front door click. she scrambled to put the crumpled up piece of paper back into the book where she found it, effectively slipping it in and standing up straight just in time as he entered the door.

“hey, honey.” he says with a small smile, kicking off his shoes. he wore his police uniform still, all pristine in pale blue and navy. she swallowed and wiped at her eyes, “hey.” she shuffles towards him and wraps her arms tightly around him.

he noticed the sniffling and the watery eyes, he craned his neck down to look at her face that was pressed into his chest, rubbing his hands up and down her back in a soothing gesture.

“are you okay? your eyes are red.” he says softly, his voice dripping with such concern it just almost made her heart melt in her chest. she nods and squeezes her arms tighter around him, “i’m okay. i just missed you.” she lies a little, she did miss him, but that wasn’t the true reason for the red eyes.

“okay, baby. it’s okay though, we’re gonna have a good weekend and your not even gonna think about work.” he says softly as he continues to rub her back up and down in a gentle gesture, smiling down at her with a soft grin. she nods, “okay, i’d like that.” she says with her cheek pressed against his chest, sniffling.

she knew she wouldn’t think about work, work was the furthest thing from her mind right now. the only thing on her mind was the picnic tomorrow and the note she had found.

she knew he was going to purpose, she wasn’t even trying to snoop, but now she knew. she loved him even more for it. if that was even possible.

the next day, the morning light would peak through the curtains of leon’s bedroom window. it casted both of them in a glow that was more then just a simple glow of the morning but a new day.

she loves waking up beside him, especially today when the promises of their future hang right over her head. a promise that he’s intending to keep.

she rolls over onto him as he lays on his back, giggling as she does. she presses a small kiss to his chest and then makes a path up to his collarbone, pressing a kiss to his neck. she felt herself growing more aroused by the minute.

she wasn’t a virgin, she had dated plenty of shitty guys before leon. and it isn’t like she didn’t not want to have sex with him, they just decided to wait until marriage. but now that she knew he was going to purpose today, she forgot all about that little promise she made with him.

she presses her lips to his jaw, hearing him mumble something sleepily as she grins against his skin. she leans towards his ear, “wake up.” she mumbles as she moves her hips to sit on his covered dick in his boxers beneath the sheets. her panty clad frame gently moving her hips lightly against his as she adjusts.

she feels him slightly move again, moving in his sleep so she moves her hips more firmly on him again, feeling him grow harder against the fabric that separated them. he mumbles something and she pulls her face out of his neck, bracing her palms flat on his chest.

he slowly opens his blue eyes to meet hers, his dirty blonde hair messily on the pillow. she smiles down at him with a small grin, “morning sleeping beauty.” she chuckles as she leans down to his face and presses a kiss to his lips.

his half-asleep frame is still waking up and trying to wrap his mind around everything. “what are you doing?” he chuckles with a lazy opening and closing of his blue eyes.

“what does it look like im doing?” she says with a small smirk, moving her hips again. he had no idea where this was coming from, they had agreed to wait until marriage and now…

she was straddling his waist, her wet core on top of his morning wood, there were the barriers between them but still, he could feel everything. she tilts her head innocently at him, his blue eyes looking up at her, “why are you so…? what’s gotten into you?” he says with a small furrow of his brows as he leans up on the bed, his elbows propped up behind him.

she bites her lip and looks at him, “why am i what?” she says as she bats her eyelashes at him, feigning innocence. he struggles and takes a shaky breath, “why are you like…all over me? like, we didn’t…i thought you wanted to wait.” he manages to get out with another shaky inhale.

she sighs and rubs her palms over his chest, “i want you, i’ve waited long enough. married or not, i want you.” she says with a small look, letting his blue eyes latch onto hers. she needed him to know she was serious, that this mattered.

she knew he was going to purpose soon anyways, so what was the big deal? that’s what she thought anyways. she didn’t see it as this huge thing, it would be their first time together. but…she was ready.

“unless…your not?” she says with a small sigh as she looks down at him, her palms pressed flat on his bare chest as she looked down at him. he shook his head so fast, his hair flopping as he did, “no, i want it.” he replies as he looks up into her eyes.

“anything that you want from me, i wanna be able to give it to you. even this.” she hears him say as his blue eyes never stray from his gaze on her. she smiles widely and sniffles, “god, i love you.” she whispers as she leans down and presses a kiss to his lips.

it starts slow, his hands holding onto her waist as the kiss grows more intense and passionate. her hips moving against his erection. she doesn’t fear it now, not when she knows what will happen.

not when she can trust him. she knows he’s different, he’s not like the others. she wants to give him all of her, every single part. she wants to give him marriage, her soul, her body. she wants him to have it all.

so as the kisses and the touches escalate, she feels herself trusting in him, letting his love consume her body and mind in a way she had never known before. his kisses were like rain, falling on her skin and soaking there. his touch was like fire, spreading over her body.

it was beautiful, she couldn’t wait to have him with her forever.

the picnic was beautiful.

leon, really knew how to make her forget about her shitty work week. whether it be a picnic, their first time having sex together earlier that morning, or the proposal that has yet to happen.

he really outdid himself. just like he promised, he had cooked and packed a lunch for them by a small pond in a park. it was about a 20 minute drive from his place, how she never knew it was there, she had no idea.

it was beautiful, some swans were in the pond swimming around with their babies, made her smile and think of how leon had made this so perfect without even trying. he spread out a blanket for them, sitting the food down in the picnic basket.

she brushes her hands over her purple sundress, looking at him as he sat down and began to spread out the food for them. “wow, baby. you really thought of everything didn’t you?” she chuckles as she sits down next to him on the picnic blanket.

“of course, anything for my girl.” he says with a sweet smile in her direction as he gets wine out of the basket and two glasses. my girl…jesus, if he’s trying to make me melt, it’s working. she thinks as she watches him uncork the wine bottle, and pour them both red wine into the glasses.

“i know, you spoil me, leon. but still…” she trails off as she looks over at him, she reaches over the blanket and grabs onto his hand. she watches as the subtle breeze blows his dirty blonde hair over his blue eyes and his forehead.

he rolls his eyes playfully and scoots closer to her on the blanket, squeezing her hand back. “don’t argue with me. it’s in your best interest.” he says with a small lopsided smirk as he hands her one of the glasses of wine. she accepts and smiles back at him, sipping on the wine in her free hand.

“fine. i won’t.” she says with a small roll of her eyes, grinning at him as she swallowed the wine. letting it slide down her throat. they stayed in silence for a while, just enjoying the sounds of nature, the breeze that blowed softly and made the leaves rustle in the trees above them.

she let him dote on her a little more, still feeling that anxious bubbling in her stomach that had been occurring since last night. the note, the proposal that had yet to happen. she felt her body get amped up and she was trying not to give her hopes up.

she sipped on her wine, looking over at him as he stared off into the pond a little ways in front of them. she admired him like this, when he wasn’t looking at her. he was deep in thought, in his head and she could almost see the gears turning in his mind.

“thank you, leon.” she says as she snaps out of her daze of staring at him. she didn’t think she could ever not want to stare, admire him like a piece of art in a museum. he lets his head turn her way, looking directly at her, a gentle smile on his boyish features.

“no need to thank me. i wanted to do something special for you.” he says as he reaches across the blanket and rubs his hand over her bare knee. she nods and swallows more nerves, “i don’t need to thank you, but im going to anyways.” she giggles.

he just shakes his head with a teasing grin on his face, he doesn’t mind this. sitting here with her and knowing where it’s going. he almost feels like this can’t be real, sitting here with her. the weather’s perfect and this day is even better.

they continue to just sit together on the picnic blanket, eating and sipping on their wine. they just talk and snuggle up next to each other on the blanket.

eventually the sun starts to set, painting the sky in a beautiful pink and red hue. it almost looks like a painting and she watches it with almost admiration. he knows this is the time, the ring in his pocket burning a hole through his jeans.

she keeps her gaze trained on the sky, not even noticing that he’s staring at her with admiration. he swallows his fears, his nerves and everything that could potentially stop him from doing this.

“your so beautiful, you know that?” he starts as he looks over her features. her gaze only temporarily looking over at him, a blush coating her cheeks. this isn’t how he had planned it, but he’s gonna do this differently.

“of course you know that, i tell you all the time how amazing, beautiful and sweet you are. even to people who don’t deserve your kindness.” he says as his blue eyes stay trained on her, she smiles and bites her lip in bashfulness.

she knows something is happening, but she lets it happen. she doesn’t care…not if it’s a promise to make her happy for the rest of their lives.

“your the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he continues as he looks at her, turning his body a little towards her on the picnic blanket. the ring feels like an anchor in his pocket, keeping him tethered to the moment here with her.

“and i don’t think i’ll ever find anyone better then you, that’s honesty. your the best that’s ever going to happen to me.” he says as he looks deep into her eyes, her eyes blinking back at him as she feels her heart start to pound in her ribcage.

“and i would be a fucking fool if i went on another two years and didn’t show you how much you mean to me.” he says as he fists the ring in his pocket. she feels her heart swell and her eyes water. the smile spreading on her face is the rare kind.

“what are you…?” she says with a small look of disbelief on her face, her smile widening and the crystal of her eyes staring back at him.

he smiles with a small blink of his blue eyes that are now crystallizing over as well, he pulls his palm out of his pocket, opening it up between them to brandish a engagement ring.

she blinks her tears away, raising a hand over her mouth, trying to somewhat hide her shock. “leon…” she looks between the ring in his palm and then his eyes. this was much better then what was written on that crumpled sheet of paper.

“i love you so fucking much, i would do anything for you, to you and with you. only if you’ll let me, forever. please marry me. let me love you forever, let me wake up to you every morning. it would be the greatest honor i could ever have.” he says as he gestures the ring in his outstretched palm.

he looks at her with hopeful and love filled eyes as he does this. she doesn’t even have words, she expected it. but not like this…

this was definitely better.

and he was the love of her life, she couldn’t say no to him, not in a million years. she couldn’t dream of turning him down. of declining his proposal because he’s her happiness. even from two years ago when they met to now…

her body and mind want him the same, love him the same. she knows it will never change. not when it comes to him and just everything he does for her.

“yes…” she says as she sniffles away tears, feeling the breeze in the park billow her hair. the swans swimming idly in the pond in front of them. the sun setting in a beautiful sunset that paints the sky. he blinks at her, he doesn’t think he heard her right for a second.

“did you say…?” she laughs and looks at him, “i said yes. i’ll marry you.” she says as she feels more tears leak down her flushed cheeks. he smiles widely and grabs her hand shakily, his face coated in tears of happiness too.

he slips the ring onto her ring finger and strokes his thumb over her knuckles. he slides his free hand up to cup her jaw, rubbing the tears that slid from her eyes. “oh god, i love you.” he says in a trance as he looks at her.

“i love you too.” she says back to him, catching him in his trance of looking at her. she feels the ring on her ring finger, making its home there. she feels like she’s on cloud nine right now. he pulls her face towards him and presses a kiss to her lips.

she returns it and kisses him back, her hand, now ring clad, holds onto his face as she deepens the kiss. she doesn’t think she could ever be happier then she was right now.

in this moment with him. not a thing matters and her mind and body are full of him. she feels so consumed by him and his love that she can’t even explain it.

she’ll be wrapped in him forever and she can’t bring herself to care if she is. because at least she’s happy, happy and in love.

forever.

leons letter:

taglist: @heartsforvin

(go to this post to join the taglist, pls reblog and follow for more, my asks are open in my bio. i love you all <3)

#leon kennedy #leon x reader #leon kennedy smut #re2 leon #leon kennedy au #leon kennedy fluff #re2 remake #re4 remake #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon kennedy drabble #re2 leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x reader

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jarofstyles · 10 months ago

Note

Blurb request from h pov!!

Lovesick H who used to have a terribly big crush on y/n but was too silly to realise she felt the same way and he’s reminiscing because now he’s got the girl of his dreams asleep on top of him and she’s his best friend now!! and he finds it hilarious he still acts lovesick and clumsy around her 😫 😫😫😫😫😫

Wait that’s so cute here’s a shorty little thing

Patreon

——-

It all came full circle eventually. If life had taught him anything, that would be the lesson.

Soft breaths puffed against the side of his neck as he laid still on the sofa. A mess of hair narrowly avoided his mouth, but he wouldn’t mind fishing a few strands from his lips if it meant getting to have her on top of him. Her weight a grounding comfort to him, something he used to dream about.

He’d had lectures with her and missed notes because he was too busy looking at her. When they’d studied together he had to redo it at home because he spent the majority of his time trying to memorize the marks on her face and the little traits that no one else paid attention to. She was an all encompassing beauty, her appearance, personality, treatment towards people- everything about her was beautiful.

Her fingers curled into his shirt as she adjusted slightly in her sleep, his heart growing when she nuzzled closer into his neck and he felt her eyelashes brush the skin there. His fingers ran up and down her spine as she slept, unable to get up. It wasn’t a concern, despite his phone dying and nothing interesting to find on the streaming service. She was comfortable and these were the moments he had been dying for. Dreaming about.

He was completely and utterly gone for her. He’d thought that his first girlfriend would have ruined him, but when he met her in their final year of uni there was no comparison. Y/N had made him see that that relationship and his emotions in it were child’s play compared to this feeling. This need. He loved simply being with her. Especially with her asleep, peaceful and warm on top of his body. There was nowhere else he’d rather be in the world.

He felt a little flustered just thinking about how insane she made his stomach feel. The butterflies that people described felt more like a buzzing nest of bees, the soft bumblebees, the flutter of little wings and buzzing making him heat from his neck to his face. He remembered the first time she had fallen asleep on him when they were at a friends house to watch horror films. She’d claimed to be terrified and sat curled up next to him insisting they share a blanket, but halfway through The Exorcist she was puffing away sleepily against his bicep. He’d never felt so giddy over being stuck somewhere before.

There had been nights he sat in bed wondering what her lips tasted like. What she liked in her coffee. If she liked to be tickled or not. Was she someone who hated her hair being touched? Would she let him stroke it out of her face more often so he could see the full expanse of beauty it curtained? The thoughts had been endless.

It never fully went away, the awe and yearning and fondness. If anything it was growing stronger, day by day. Y/N was the love of his life in every way possible and he wouldn’t do a thing to change it.

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prazinos · 2 years ago

Text

Just Go With It

Xavier Thorpe x Reader

Fake dating trope

Disclaimer ~ I do not support Percy Hynes White, this is about the character and not the actor.

WARNINGS ! ~ None just fluff !

Walking out of class, you saw him. Paul, a siren that honestly everybody secretly hated.

And unfortunately for you, he couldn't take no for an answer. Over and over he had asked you on a date. Countless times. You think nobody's had the guts to say no to him before or he thinks you're playing hard to get.

Out of your peripheral, you saw him look at you and start walking towards you. In a moment of pure instinct you grabbed onto somebody's arm in front of you.

You felt them tense, you look up to see Xavier, a devastatingly handsome young man who you were kind of acquainted with, you had only met at one of Bianca's parties.

'I'm sorry, just go with it, please' you muttered, he looked down at you confused, before nodding.

He put his arm around you pulling you in close, walking towards the courtyard.

Walking out you saw Enid, Wednesday, Bianca, and Ajax. Ajax was handing Bianca a bag of blunts as Bianca complained about the price

'Bianca, you can just get a bag of weed cheaper, the only reason the blunts cost more is because I have to roll them!'

'fine' Bianca mumbled

As you and Xavier made your way to the table everybody was seated, Enid broke out in a smile at the two of you, while everybody else looked kind of shocked.

Sitting down on the table, you saw Paul again, making a bee line towards you. You groaned as he approached the table,

'Y/N can I talk to you?'

'Paul I do not want to go out with you'

'Why not? I'm everything you could want and more baby'

You watched as almost everybody around you cringed at his words.

'I'm in a relationship Paul, stop asking me out'

'With who?'

'Me' Xavier said, his 6'2 frame towering over Pauls 5'6 one.

'Really Y/N? This weirdo? He hangs out in a shed with his free time doing god knows what' Paul scoffed.

'So what? At least he doesn't harass women to make them go out with him' you said crossing your arms over your chest.

'Whatever, don't come crawling back to me when you realise how much of a creep this guy is. You're such a slut for leading me on'

Everybody's eyes widened at Pauls use of 'slut'.

You watched as Xavier pushed Paul against one of the columns surrounding the courtyard, Enid attempted to get off of Wednesdays lap but Wednesday just held onto her tighter, clearly wanting to see how this went down.

'Don't fucking call her that you piece of shit' Xavier spat in Pauls face,

In all honesty, you loved the sight of Paul shitting himself.

Paul looked over at you in hopes you would tell Xavier to back down. You didn't.

'Don't look at her for help, you really think she would help you? You fucking harassed her for weeks just because she wouldn't go out with you' Xavier said, dropping Paul from where he had been pinned.

Paul got up from off the ground, shrugging his blazer back on properly, before running off, probably to tell Ms Weems.

Xavier walked back over to the group, Ajax passing him the blunt he was smoking with Bianca.

As that whole thing unravelled you were just sat in shock, how did Xavier know Paul was harassing you for so long? As Xavier sat next to you on the bench you quickly turned to him, kissing his cheek.

He smiled, blowing out the smoke from the blunt before kissing you.

You didn't know how to react at first before moving your lips with his.

'Alright you two, no making out in the courtyard. Xavier come to my office' Weems said walking over with Paul trailing behind. You broke apart although you really didn't want to

'Pussy.' Wednesday mumbled as Enid giggled.

Xavier got off the bench, kissing your cheek one more time

'Now! Mr Thorpe' Weems said

This is a lot shorter than my normal things but hope y'all liked it and stuff. I'm thinking about writing some Wednesday x Enid stuff in the future but idk probably will

lmk if you liked this by liking, commenting, reblogging or following !

#xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe x you #wednesday the series #wednesday tv show #wednesday addams

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wndaswife · 2 years ago

Text

matriarchal disturbance | wanda maximoff & fem!reader

Iryna Maximoff pays her daughter a visit, and Wanda must learn to balance living with her ever-complicated mother while navigating her rocky relationship with you, her stepdaughter.

Word count: 14 615

Tags: smut, angst, fluff, family issues, infidelity, age gap, strap-ons, cunnilingus, spanking, hair-pulling, praise, degradation, slight cnc, impact play, mention of somnophilia, mommy kink, sub!wanda maximoff, dom!reader. MINORS DNI.

You sped down the stairs and slung your backpack over your shoulder, hoping to avoid your dad and stepmother on the way out. The rapid padding of your feet prompted Wanda to force herself out of her husband’s arms as you passed the kitchen.

“Y/N?” she called out, listening close to how you walked over to the front door. Wanda rounded Vision and headed over to you. You were leaned over, pulling your shoes on with a backpack hanging from your shoulder. Wringing her hands around the dish towel she was holding, Wanda asks, “Are you going somewhere?”

You stalled with some stuttered hesitation in hopes of leaving and talking with your stepmother as little as possible. But you watched the way she stayed planted in front of you and you still had another shoelace to tie. “Yeah, going out, forgot to tell dad,” you answered finally.

“I can drive you if you’d like. Vis can finish making dinner,” she offered, and you saw her playing with her fingers when you looked up slightly from beyond your eyebrows. She was always trying to make some excuse to spend time with you. But you wouldn’t let her. Not unless you were forced.

The afternoon could be recalled as clearly as if it were yesterday. Months of getting close with your dad’s new girlfriend, gentle caresses and passing longing glances, excuses to get each other alone, delicate kisses exchanged, vows of love, all tossed away as delusion the moment her engagement to your dad was announced. He had his hand on her knee, Wanda’s hands wringing around uncomfortably in her lap as she anticipated your answer.

Suddenly, you had no idea what to do with all the months you spent loving Wanda. She lost her virginity when she was sixteen to a senior at the back of his truck. She won a spelling bee contest when she was ten. She broke one of her ribs once when she was a young child hanging out of her father’s moving car.

What were you to do with knowledge like that?

Information about her that you held close to your heart for whatever reason, a pride you felt in knowing her and having been able to watch her face as she recalled stories of her life. She was once a grand and beautiful constellation, each day spent with her discovering one of the many stars she was made of.

She made you feel and look like a fool — a lovesick puppy blinded by the thrill of first love. You hated her for it, and you hated her all the more when she made those pathetic attempts to make it up to you.

“I’m walking,” you told her and straightened to take your sweater from the coat rack.

“Walking? Is it far?”

Hoping that your brief response would suffice, you answered, “No.”

“Are you sure?” she pressed on.

“Wanda, I told you — I’m walking,” you repeated, meeting her eyes. She nodded and stepped to the side to let you open the front door. The stability of her relationship with you was precarious and she wouldn’t think twice before yielding to maintain what closeness she had left with you after her marriage to your father.

You didn’t believe there was much, if any at all, but you imagined that Wanda liked to hold onto the idea that there was.

Before you could step off the porch and finally make some space between you and home, Wanda called from behind you and asked if you were planning on being back home before dinner. You replied with something vague for you didn’t feel like thinking about when you wanted to be home, and you didn’t want to give your stepmother the benefit of knowing your plans.

Pretending to be content in spite of her lack of a role in your personal life, Wanda refrained from asking anything else and let you go without another word.

Several days ago, Vision suggested that you start calling Wanda something along the lines of ‘mom.’ Your father had initially argued against your refusal, insisting that it was time you started behaving maturely rather than acting like a rebellious teenager. Wanda was quick to defend you, but you were already cutting your meal short, heading to the sink to wash your dishes before going out for a drive.

Even if you had stayed seated while Wanda vouched for you, she was convinced you wouldn’t have been listening anyways. You hardly responded to her when she spoke to you, you didn’t even look up. Typically, it took urging from your father to even get her messages across.

Dinner was dull when you didn’t come home later that night. Things normally were when it was only her and Vision at home. Interaction between you and your stepmother was scarce, but knowing that you were home, having you for meals and seeing you occasionally when you came downstairs brought Wanda great deals of joy and comfort. She loved it when you were home from school.

It never crossed her mind how you interpreted her attempts at becoming close with you again, for she always had faith that you’d warm up to her eventually. She knew she had hurt you when she married Vision though she’d been dating him for months prior to the marriage. But she believed that what the two of you had was special.

You were one of the reasons she felt assured in the decision to marry Vision. Things would be different, but she’d always have you. Wanda strongly believed that although things couldn’t return to precisely what used to be before her engagement, it would take a bit of effort to eventually return to the trust and affinity the two of you used to have for each other.

She hadn’t meant to lose you in marrying your father, and she wasn’t planning on it. She promised to herself to be a good stepmother, although she felt lost at times without a maternal figure to rely on for an example of how to provide for you as you needed.

These days, Wanda thought of Iryna a lot more than she used to. In her failures to earn your affection, she worried she was becoming more and more like her own mother. She had no one to ask advice from and in spite of her tumultuous childhood, Wanda caught herself wishing she had the kind of relationship with her mother in which she could simply call her and ask her for help.

Iryna and her daughter talked a few times perhaps every three months. Their communication was irregular and when they did talk, phone calls would consist of Iryna asking a few obligatory questions about Wanda’s life and listening to answers she didn’t truly care about hearing before the topic was swiftly changed to Pietro, Wanda’s twin brother.

Pietro was part of a travelling soccer team, having firstly started his soccer practices for a few hours after school when he and Wanda were only children, and was now making his way towards his dream of earning a spot with his team representing their home country in the Olympics. He and Wanda texted a lot more regularly than she and Iryna, and unlike their mother, Pietro attended Wanda and Vision’s wedding a few months ago.

They were close, and it was only different paths of life that put space between them. Even so, the distance was merely physical as the twins continued to maintain their close connection.

Though they had a strong bond, Wanda truly found herself rather bored listening to her mother drone on about how successful Pietro was in his most recent games, listening to all the countries he’d been travelling to and the games she attended. She’d heard it all from him anyways, but what was more was that Iryna travelled around the world to see Pietro, a total of seven different countries to watch his games and spend time with her favourite child, yet could not even bother to attend her daughter’s wedding.

Wanda was once a favourite of her father before he passed when they were young, and it was no secret that Pietro was always mama’s favourite, even after there became only one parent to share between the both of them. In spite of how the two of them knew Iryna favoured her son over her daughter, any and all of Wanda’s conflicted feelings had always been directed towards her mother rather than towards Pietro. It was miraculous, in a way, that they’d maintained such a close relationship over the years. But Wanda loved Pietro as he did her. It was only her mother that made her feel heaps of unease and burrowed in her years of unresolved insecurities.

Sitting in the living room with a movie playing on the television though she wasn’t entirely paying attention to it, Wanda wondered about what you were doing. When putting on the movie that was currently only being partially-watched, Wanda hoped she’d be able to catch you coming in to make sure you got home safe. She supposed you were seeing your friends, which you were, but she wondered about what you might be doing with them.

Was it cold out? Did you end up wearing that sweater you brought with you? Would you be back tonight or tomorrow? She wanted to text you something brief asking how you were, but if you wouldn’t have a conversation with her the next time you were home about how you didn’t like for her to be pushy with you, you wouldn’t respond to her text at all, which likely would’ve made her even more worried.

Her head perked up from her phone when a knock came at the door. She checked the time on her cellphone — it was ten-forty in the evening — before setting it down and heading to the front door and opening it.

Where Wanda expected to see you waiting on the porch stood her mother instead, the handles of two travel luggages in each hand. She felt a strange mix of dread and a kind of frozen pause that came over her body, making her unsure how to react aside from blinking at her mother with parted lips in disbelief.

“Aren’t you going to take my bags?” Iryna asked, urging them forward.

“O-Oh, yes,” Wanda stuttered, leaning down to take them by their handles. She wheeled them towards her then lifted them up into the front foyer.

Sighing, her mother stepped into the house. “Mannerless child,” she bit passively as she looked around at the house and the living room.

Wanda asked, “Mama, what are you doing here?” She locked the front door and turned to her mother who continued to survey the house with a great deal of scrutiny.

“A mother can’t visit her own child?”

Playing with her fingers in front of her stomach, Wanda said quietly, “You didn’t even come to my wedding, mama. You want to visit me now?”

“Yes,” Iryna answered, looking at her daughter with her head tipped upwards slightly. “You’d like me to leave, then? Give me my bags.”

Wanda blurted out a ‘no,’ before she stepped towards Iryna and let go of the bags. “I’m happy that you’re here, mama. I really am.” She wrapped her arms around her mother’s shoulders and gave her a hug.

Her mother was never one for physical affection, though Wanda always was; it was one of the reasons she loved how close she was with you before — you were equally as physically affectionate with her. Wanda missed it. It didn’t feel nearly the same with Vision.

In all honesty, she’d never loved being touched and hugged by anyone as much as she did with you. It was a strangely specific preference, but you always made her feel like you wanted only to be close with her when you held her hand or kissed her cheek.

To be wanted like that… It felt amazing. She’d only ever felt it with you. She only ever had a place when she was with you.

She pulled away and smiled at her mother. “How is Pietro?” Wanda asked though she knew how he was as the last she spoke to him was that afternoon. But Iryna’s mood always seemed to lighten when her favourite child was brought up.

The two of them sat on the living room couch, the movie on the television paused, while Iryna went into detail about her trip to Madrid during which she visited Pietro that she’d just come back from. Wanda sat in silence, nodding and listening and occasionally making comments.

It was nearly an hour of listening to Iryna’s recount of her trip and her doting adoration and pride of her only son before the front door was unlocked. You stepped into the house and Wanda’s head perked up. She looked you over quickly and was then relieved at the sight of you — a sweater on and zipped up and even one of your hats from your backpack pulled onto your head.

Wanda stood from the couch as your eyes darted between her and her mother. “Y/N, this is my mother, Iryna,” she introduced. She’d never talked about her mother before, and all you knew of her was what you supposed after her lack of presence at your stepmother’s wedding.

She looked like Wanda, in some ways, though her stare was cunning and her eyes frighteningly calculating. A part of you couldn’t believe that the soft-spoken Wanda and her free-spirited twin brother were born from a woman like this.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said finally, taking off your hat and unzipping your sweater.

“Likewise,” Iryna replied with a cordial nod.

Wanda felt nervous suddenly, recalling all the times she turned to her mother for advice in communicating with you. She hardly ever went to her mother for help about anything after her high school years, but after being newly-married and becoming a stepmother, she had initially relied on Iryna for help in trying to become closer with you. Her advice was poor and mostly judgemental of her inability to parent, so Wanda soon ceased bringing you up to her.

There was also always something strangely disconcerting about having her mother know things about you. Wanda felt possessive of the knowledge of you and felt uncomfortable that a woman like Iryna knew the kind of person you were and of her once-close relationship with you.

Now, she felt rather uneasy watching the two of you interact. Iryna was indeed a cunning woman and unnecessarily conniving at times, and Wanda’s relationship with you couldn’t take any more pressure.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you,” Wanda said when you didn’t head upstairs, hoping that you’d leave and spend as little time as possible with Iryna. You gave an awkward smile to her mother and bid her a goodnight before turning and heading up the stairs to your bedroom. “Goodnight, Y/N. Sweet dreams,” she called softly from the living room.

You caught sight of the two travelling luggages by the front door as you headed up and you dreaded the next unspecified while until Iryna left. You didn’t have any problems with her, but you were certain that you’d have to get to know her and spend a bit of time with her to be friendly, and that undoubtedly meant you’d have to spend more time with your stepmother.

Wanda and her mother spoke for a little longer as you could hear bits of their conversation while you were getting ready in the washroom. Later on, Wanda carried Iryna’s bags up the stairs and you listened to her lead her mother up to the guest room.

“How long are you planning on staying with us?” you heard Wanda’s muffled question through your bedroom door as she walked through the hallway and towards the extra room. Iryna told her that she’d stay for about two weeks before she’d need Wanda to drive her to the airport so she could take her booked flight back to Russia.

Two weeks.

You figured it wouldn't be too bad if you filled up the next little while doing anything else but being at home.

You were awoken in the morning hearing the stifled shouts of your father from his and Wanda’s bedroom down the hall. He got pretty loud when he felt like it, he really did, and he was rather prone to being overdramatic when he was upset.

On the night of their wedding, Vision’s family brought up what a perfect match Wanda was for him, how perfectly her sensitive attitude complemented his. In a way it was true, but mostly it just made you roll your eyes. The pair was painfully traditional.

You supposed he was upset about Wanda’s mother staying over without any notice. If you had a say in the argument, words of advice that would matter at all, perhaps you’d make a comment in defence of Wanda solely to argue against your dad. You imagined your words wouldn’t matter much to your stepmother anyways, who disregarded you to marry a man you always thought she never felt much sentiment for. It was he that she chose over you, anyways. Who were you to stand up for her?

Now that you were awake listening to the muffled words of their ongoing argument, you figured you wouldn’t be getting back to sleep, so you climbed out of bed and headed downstairs to have breakfast.

To your surprise, Wanda’s mother was sitting at the dining room table eating buttered toast with a book in hand. Feeling chilled by the sight of her tranquillity, you poured yourself a bowl of cereal and had no choice but to sit down across from her at the dining table lest she think you were intentionally avoiding her.

“Good morning,” she greeted, looking up from her book and setting it down by her plate. You met her eyes and smiled at her before returning her friendly greeting. “A mismatched pair, no?” Iryna said, indirectly referencing the argument upstairs.

When you stared at her for a moment slightly stunned by her overt criticism, she darted her eyes up at the ceiling where Wanda and Vision were arguing upstairs before looking back down to you. “Oh,” you answered, feigning an onset of realisation. “They’re okay.”

Iryna said, “Wanda never had children of her own. I always told her she married too late. I do not intend to offend you, but I take it you aren’t very close with my daughter.” She chewed on a bit of her toast and swallowed.

“Uh, no, not very,” you answered. You had no intention of being rude to her, but you weren’t sure how to approach her questions. It seemed to you that her words held more weight than she was letting on, and you felt you had to choose your words carefully around her.

“In my own experience, I found it difficult to connect with her at times,” she recalled, cleaning the tips of her fingers from crumbs and moving her empty plate to the side.

You mentioned, “But you’re visiting her here, so that means you must be sort of close.��

“An obligation to check up on one’s daughter. It’s been many years since I’ve seen Wanda in-person. You know of her brother?”

Your eyebrows came together as you tried recalling his name. “Pietro?”

“Indeed. Successful boy. I just returned from visiting him in Madrid. It was a rude awakening coming here to see Wanda.”

“Why?” you asked, feeling strangely interested in Iryna’s recount of Wanda.

With a sardonic chuckle, Iryna replied, “She’s an unaccomplished housewife, devochka.”

Wanda eventually headed downstairs from the argument while your dad was no doubt fuming in the bedroom, trying to cool down before having to eat breakfast at some point and face his mother-in-law. She sighed heavily as she stepped into the kitchen looking exasperated, a hand running through her hair.

She caught sight of you and Iryna sitting at the table and she froze, her eyes darting between the two of you. “Mama,” she greeted cautiously before smiling at you. Her smile was brief as it dissipated when she looked over her shoulder to her mother. “What are you two talking about?”

“Nothing important, Wanda,” Iryna said and lifted her cup of coffee to her lips. She watched as her daughter turned and began boiling water for herself. You looked up from your bowl of cereal subtly as she eyed Wanda with a certain scrutiny that made even you uncomfortable, and Iryna wasn’t even looking in your direction. “What was the argument about?” she then asked suddenly.

Taken off guard, Wanda hesitated, “What?”

“The argument,” her mother pressed, a deceiving lightness to her tone in spite of her blunt questioning. “Upstairs. We could all hear it down here.”

From the corner of your eye, you could see Wanda look over at you, seemingly searching for confirmation, questioning if you really did hear her argument upstairs with Vision. But you refused to make eye contact with her — all you wanted was to get the hell out of that kitchen as soon as you could.

She cleared her throat and prepared her mug for her hot water and placed a teabag of berry tea into it. “It was nothing,” she answered. “It was about work.”

“Not your place of work though, I’d presume,” Iryna asked innocently, though she knew Wanda wasn’t working, and Wanda knew that she knew. Wanda flushed in embarrassment at her mother’s words that held a great deal of criticism despite the benign way they were spoken, and you felt that Iryna was humiliating her on purpose.

“N… No,” she answered finally, looking down at her empty mug and fiddling idly with the teabag’s string.

Humming in a way that could be interpreted as Iryna feeling satisfied with the way she chastised her daughter out of the blue, she took a sip of her coffee and picked up her book again.

“Y/N, how was your night out yesterday?” Wanda asked, pouring her boiled water into her mug and looking over at you.

You weighed the pros and cons of brushing her off with a dismissive response, answering her honestly, or standing up from your seat abruptly and running out of the house like you wanted to do since the moment Iryna made that comment about the argument upstairs.

A part of you felt bad for the passes Wanda had to endure, so while you stirred your spoon around in your bowl of milk, you answered, “It was fine. I met with some friends at this bar. It was slam poetry night.”

Wanda asked curiously, “You presented some of your things?”

“No.”

“You should. I think you’re a really talented writer.”

The compliment sent chills up your spine and you quickly downed the milk left in your bowl then stood to wash your dishes in the sink. You recalled sharing some of your pieces with Wanda when you first became close with her — a symbol of your trust in her.

“Will you be going out today too? I was thinking of heading to that greenhouse you like. You could help me pick out some things for the garden now that the snow’s all melted and it’s gotten warm out,” she offered, her spoon weaving in and out from between her fingers.

The mention of the greenhouse made you tense, for it was a common place you and Wanda liked to stop at when you had time for yourselves as an excuse to browse the vast greenhouse gardens hand-in-hand.

“Yeah, I’m going out later this afternoon,” you replied quietly. “Sorry.”

You looked over at Wanda and smiled briefly as to not seem abrasive before putting your clean dishes on the rack. You said goodbye to Iryna and quickly made your way out of the kitchen — finally — and headed upstairs before Wanda could reply.

A sense of anxiety settled within Wanda as she watched you scurry away. Her eyes immediately went to her mother. “What did you tell her, mama?” Wanda asked, trying her best to restrain the amount of unease she felt as she let her mind wander.

Her worry was certainly not at all assuaged when she saw the way Iryna sat at the dining table with a complacent expression.

“You are not a teenager anymore. Do not worry yourself with gossip and adolescent concerns,” Iryna dismissed though it seemed she found amusement in disregarding her daughter.

Wanda placed her mug down on the table and replied, “Which implies that there was gossip to be told.”

“Maybe yes, maybe no.”

“Mama,” Wanda urged, not yet taking a seat at the table and staring down at her mother.

Iryna scoffed and put her book down before looking up at her. “Prekrati, Wanda. Let it go. I told her nothing she didn’t already know.”

Pulling out her seat, Wanda lowered herself onto the chair, feeling like a sulking child in the shadow of her mother like she always has. “I can’t have her being any more upset with me,” she said quietly.

“You will live without the validation of a child,” Iryna replied bitterly.

Wanda didn’t respond to that. She only set her tea bag aside once it was finished steeping and drank from her cup, feeling weighed down by her mother’s criticisms as they lingered heavily in the silence of the kitchen.

The next few days passed with you making any and every excuse to get out of the house, much to Wanda’s dismay. She hoped desperately to have some sort of interaction with you that was greater than those that took place in brief passing; you were always busy, you always had somewhere to go or something to do.

One afternoon when you had nowhere in particular to go but a quiet spot in the library closeby, an argument began between Iryna and Wanda downstairs in the living room. Your bedroom door was ajar while you were doing work at your desk, and you could hear Wanda trying to keep her mother quiet as her voice started to rise. Your stepmother was a sequence of hushed whispers and pleads for her to speak quieter for Wanda knew you were upstairs.

You tensed the moment you heard Iryna hiss out a string of angry Russian curses and you stood from your desk and tiptoed to your bedroom door. Carefully, you closed the door slow enough as to not be heard from downstairs. Then you sat back at your desk, hoping that they’d cease their arguing so you could leave for the library as soon as you could.

The last thing you wanted to do was get in the middle of them again.

After about an hour when you were sure their arguing came to an end, you crept downstairs, staring at the closed door of the guest room as you did to ensure you didn’t signal to Iryna your presence passing through the hallway.

Vision was always rather fastidious about having you ask Wanda for permission to go out when he wasn’t home, which you found pretty ridiculous considering you were now in your last years in college still needing permission from someone in the house to go out. But over time you gave in, finding that exchanging a few words with your stepmother wasn't as bad as having to listen to lectures from your father about safety and obedience.

He’d be home soon, but you were more likely to get the green light from Wanda, who more or less could not bear saying no to you.

You raked through the living room and the kitchen, and even called downstairs for her. Eventually, you found Wanda in the garden on her knees repotting a few flowers from the greenhouse she invited you to a few days ago.

She was wearing a pair of ankle-length jeans and a black blouse with sleeves rolled up to her elbows, a sun hat, and her gardening gloves. Her hair was tied back and out of her face aside from some loose strands as she leaned over and dug some space for her tomato seeds.

“Wanda,” you said when you stepped past the open sliding door and into the garden. She looked up from the ground at you, one hand wrapped around the handle of a gardening hoe and the other knuckle-deep in a pile of mulch.

Some stupidly-sentimental part of you wished you were as close as you used to be with her last spring because you would’ve never let down the image of her on her knees looking like a total dork with her fingers in a pile of dirt and a massive sun hat on her head.

You looked away and distracted yourself from the thought as you ran your eyes over the things she bought from the greenhouse. “I’m going out to see a few friends on Friday. Probably won’t be back until Saturday afternoon,” you told her.

“What will you be doing?” she asked.

“Carol’s hosting this big party at her house, so we’re going.”

Wanda stood up and laid her gloves down on a flower pot. She brushed a speck of mulch off from her cheek with the back of her finger. “I think you should spend more time on your studies,” she said. Her words nearly made you scoff out a laugh, but you were more confused than anything, so you just looked at her.

Continuing on, she added, “You’re never home, and your Spring Break is nearly over. If you were responsible, you’d use what time you have left here to stay home and study.”

“Where is this coming from?” you inquired incredulously. Not only did Wanda hardly ever criticise you for anything, but this was completely out-of-character for her. The strict authoritarian figure didn’t suit her. It made you hate her even more, in fact. “Dad tell you to say this?”

“No,” she replied. There was a hint of uncertainty in her speech, and you felt that though she Wanda was speaking, it sounded like the words were coming from someone entirely different. You weren’t as close with her as you used to be, but this was certainly not Wanda speaking. “I’m just saying that-that you’re a bright girl with a promising future, and I would want to see you take advantage of that instead of… wasting your time.”

You argued, “Wasting my time? It’s one party. And it’s Spring Break. I never do things like this at school anyways.”

Your raised voice seemed to make Wanda hesitate as she spoke her next words a bit more quietly. “But what about that thing at your campus on Friday?” she questioned.

“What?”

“The club enrollment event.”

From what you knew when you looked over the information sheet briefly, it was an evening event on campus showcasing a bunch of different sports teams, sororities, and frats gathering up members for the second half of the semester. There’d be food stands and games. It was a pretty big deal. But you’d never brought it up to Wanda before.

Your eyebrows stitched together in confusion. “How do you know about that?”

Wanda stuttered and ran her hands down her blouse, seemingly reprehensible. “You told me,” she answered.

You straightened defensively at the realisation of where she could’ve heard about the event. “You looked through my things!”

“N-No! I didn’t. Your things were just face-up on the dining table when I passed and I saw the flyer,” Wanda reasoned, desperate to have your anger subdued.

You replied sternly, “I’m not going to that. And stop going through my stuff!”

Suddenly, a voice interjected itself into the conversation and your dad popped himself into the garden through the open sliding door. “What event are we talking about?” he asked, looking up at you as he stepped down and kissed his wife’s temple, greeting her after just come back from work.

“Nothing, just some stupid thing at school,” you dismissed. You looked away from the married couple and at the furthest wooden fence at the back of the garden. You wondered what Wanda and your dad would do if you suddenly just took off running and ran straight through the fence and didn’t stop running until you were two or three cities over.

But then eventually you’d have no place to go, and you didn’t exactly have your wallet with you at the moment. Or your phone. Your dad and Wanda would catch up after a while. Even in your wildest imagination, you’d still have to face the reality of eventually having to deal with your dad’s scolding. That made you even more upset.

“You should go,” your father advised carelessly without even knowing what the event was for.

“Dad, it’s nothing. It’s for, like, clubs and stuff. It doesn’t matter.”

Wanda was silent in the shadow of your father, wordlessly listening in on the topic she brought up, the conversation she started. If she wasn't acting like herself then, she was now. Typical for her to start something then leave right in the middle of it just to flee behind your father’s back.

You weren’t the greatest fan of hers, but the angrier you got with your stepmother, the more you felt yourself sympathising with Iryna.

“She doesn’t have to go, Vis,” Wanda spoke up, brushing her hand against his as if to nudge him into being more lenient.

“When is it?” he asked, completely ignoring her.

Wanda answered, “It’s Friday, but—”

“Perfect,” he exclaimed. Then he looked at you. “If it’s for school, you should bring your stepmother. I’d go but there’s a conference I have to attend after work.” He kissed the top of Wanda’s head then walked back up the stairs to the house.

“Dad, I don’t want to go!” you protested, turning to look at him.

Not stopping once to look back at you aside from waving his hand over his shoulder, he answered sternly, “I won’t hear it. Wanda’s bringing you and I expect pictures. It’s for school, Y/N, and you’re an adult. It’s time you started taking responsibility for your education.” He shut the sliding door and left you and Wanda in tense silence.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” she apologised, stepping forward. “I didn’t mean for him to hear, I just… I wanted to go with you. I wanted to see your school and… your friends and professors. I want to be part of your life.”

You turned to her, a cross expression on your face. “I haven’t seen my friends from here, any of them, in months.”

Wanda apologised again and reached for your hand, but you stepped back from her. “I really am sorry. I-I can still drive you to your party instead.”

“He isn’t going to let me go.”

She reasoned desperately, “It doesn’t matter, I’m the one who’s driving you.”

You made a comment referencing how strict Vision was, and Wanda silently understood the sentiment. All she’d been hearing from him was his complaints and arguments about how irresponsible she was, letting Iryna stay without notice. He wasn’t used to not having a say in everything, although Wanda hadn’t even known she was coming, and he didn’t let a day pass without letting her know it.

“I won’t force you,” Wanda spoke quietly.

“I don’t have a choice,” you told her before opening the sliding door. But before you stepped into the house, you turned to look at your stepmother, who was looking up at you guiltily.

“You want to talk about how much ‘time’ I have left here?” you said. “You and dad are lucky that I come home at all. I wasn’t sure about keeping my distance until the end of the semester, but I’ve made up my mind. You’re right — I’ll be responsible.”

Wanda’s expression seemed to be racked with an incredible amount of regret and her lips parted to say something before you shut the sliding door and left without another word.

That wasn’t the first time you and Wanda have argued, but it was the first time that she ever kept her distance from you rather than only the other way around. She seemed extremely troubled by your interaction with her that afternoon, and would not even look up from what she was doing to meet your eyes when you walked into any room she was in.

You told yourself it didn’t matter, for when you left for your campus’ event, you vowed to yourself that you wouldn’t be home until your Summer Break started.

Friday eventually came around and Wanda once again made attempts to be friendly with you, albeit nervous and hesitant. About twenty minutes before you had to leave, a knock came at your door while you were making your bed before you had to leave. Wanda opened the door and looked into your room, seeing your two packed luggages and your now half-empty room.

A certain feeling of despair settled within her as she looked at your room knowing this would be the last time until the end of your semester that she’d see you here.

Quietly, she asked, “Are you ready?”

“Yeah,” you answered blandly, adjusting your pillows.

“Okay. I’ll wait in the car,” your stepmother replied.

There was a silence that came after her words and you could see her still standing at your door. You looked up at her, seeing that she looked like she wanted to say something else. She was wearing a black floral wrap dress that reached just below her knees with a pair of black flats. Her long hair was straightened and she had earrings on, and her makeup looked really pretty on her.

Wanda always looked pretty when she did her makeup, especially when she had on this pinkish-brown lipstick that looked amazing on her. You recalled a time with her when she did your makeup and chose a lipstick colour for you, and you remember her giggling when she saw you blush after she talked about how beautifully certain colours would work with your complexion.

She took a breath and parted her lips, but quickly redirected her attention to your luggages. “I-I’ll take one of these down to the car for you,” she said, stepping into your bedroom and taking one of luggages. She extended the handle then wheeled it out, closing your bedroom door carefully behind her.

It’d been months now since you and Wanda spent time together that was something more than quick exchanges of words. Going out in the evening while Vision was out at work reminded you all too much of those early months of getting to know her when she was just your dad’s girlfriend.

Wanda opened the trunk from the driver’s seat when you rounded the car with the second luggage. You lifted it into the back then shut it before walking back around and getting into the passenger’s seat. She waited for you to buckle your seatbelt before she pulled out of the driveway and started the drive to your campus.

There wasn’t much conversation aside from Wanda asking if you had everything packed and if you wanted to stop for anything before she got onto the highway. Again, it was uncharacteristic of her to be so silent with you. But you didn’t care. None of it was your problem until the summer.

Nearly half an hour into the drive, Wanda said with a quiet tone, “I’m sorry for how I spoke to you before in the backyard when you told me you were going to that party.” You were silent, continuing to look out the window without a word. “Not just because Vision ended up hearing about it, but also because I’m… sorry for what I said.”

She continued, “My mother told me that there was a reason you didn’t want to be close with me, and that I only had to change the way I approached things with you. She told me that I was being spineless and that I had to change the way I was. Normally I wouldn’t listen, but having her over my shoulder every second for the last two weeks has only reminded me of how weak-minded I am with her.”

Regretfully, she said, “Even after so long of being away from her. I’m sorry. I should have known better, and I should have treated you better. You are very important to me, Y/N, and I’m sorry I let anything get in the way of how much I care about you.”

You hated the warm feeling that was instilled in you by her words and you wished you could hate her instead, but you found it harder the more she apologised.

“I didn’t mean anything I said,” Wanda added. “But I do think you’re a very bright girl, Y/N. I meant that part.”

Suddenly a wave of recollections from the last few days came to you, memories of what Wanda had been dealing with from both Iryna and your father. She’d been criticised relentlessly since she allowed for her mother to stay. If she wasn’t defending her mother from Vision, who never took a liking to Iryna, then she was making attempts at defending herself and Vision from Iryna, who also never took a liking to the life Wanda made for herself.

Without really thinking, you said, “It’s fine. I forgive you. Just forget about it.”

From the corner of your eye, you saw Wanda look over at you and smile. “Thank you.”

Then after a moment when she’d looked back to the road, your stepmother confessed, “I’m really excited to be spending time with you. It’s been such a long time, and I miss being out with you.”

The both of you decided that you wouldn’t stop at your dorm and that you’d just go directly to campus then drop off your bags after. Anyways, you wanted to get the event over with, and you hoped you could use the luggages as an excuse to leave early somehow.

Wanda found a parking space behind the science wing close to one of the larger gymnasiums where the event was being held.

As you watched her step out of the car and look around, you found that she stood out from the rest of campus. It felt a bit bizarre to see her walking around in a place neither her or your dad had been before.

For some strange reason, there was a fondness that grew in you seeing her look around curiously, trying to take in your campus and trying to picture you walking around between classes or hanging out with friends on a bench by the parking lots or something like that. She really did want to be more involved in your life, and she desperately wished to know what you did when you were away from home.

You hardly ever texted her back when she messaged you when you were at school.

Wanda kept fiddling with her hair and her dress while you walked to where the event was being held, adjusting how it fell around her hips or how her sleeves looked, tucking and untucking her hair behind her ears and running her fingers through it. She seemed nervous, but more than that, she was meticulous about her appearance, though you couldn’t figure out exactly who she was trying to look good for as you didn’t think she expected to see anyone she knew here.

Your campus’ gymnasium was rather large, and inside was a grand array of food booths, games, and club stands. By the ceiling, the windows were cracked open to allow some ventilation, but it still smelled like a delicious medley of foods once you walked in.

One had to purchase tickets at a booth with money then exchange them to buy food and participate in any games. It was a dollar for each one, and Wanda paid for thirty tickets as you assured her that you weren’t interested in playing any games and that you only wanted to buy enough food for dinner. She followed behind you, looking around at the gym and all the club stands curiously as you walked around looking for somewhere to eat.

After apologising to you in the car, Wanda began to talk a lot more with you. She led most of the conversation, which was rather rare to see her do with other people. If you were honest, you don’t think you’d ever seen her as talkative with anyone but you. She talked about a lot of things from her plans for spring gardening to a book club she was thinking about joining that one of the neighbours, Dottie, mentioned to her.

While waiting with Wanda at the side of one of the food booths for your order, some of your friends from your political science class spotted you and approached you. At the sight of them, Wanda immediately stopped talking and moved back to your side as your friends approached.

Like you realised earlier, she was really not one to talk much around anyone but you.

“Are these your friends?” she asks quietly, looking at you. But you suddenly felt that you weren’t in the mood to talk with Wanda and you ignored her question to greet your friends, talking about each other’s Spring Breaks and complaints about your poli-sci class.

You talked with two of your friends about wanting to check out one of the swimming teams they were interested in and you went with them to stop by their stand while Wanda waited for the food the two of you ordered.

Eventually, one of your friends that stayed back waiting for you to return with the other two looked over at Wanda. “You must be Y/N’s stepmom,” she said.

Wanda felt rather elated knowing that you talked to your friends about her. She was initially rather worried about meeting your friends amongst everything else. She wanted to be part of your life and wanted to be closer with you, but a part of her also worried if there was a place for her in your personal life at all. It made her extremely happy to know that you’d mentioned her to your friends before.

She smiled and nodded. “Yes, I’m Wanda. It’s nice to meet you,” she said and stuck her hand out for your friend to shake.

Instead of taking her hand, your friends exchanged a look in which its negative implications Wanda didn’t catch onto. “We’ve heard a lot about you,” one of your other friends added, a bout of mocking humour in her tone.

Wanda put her hand down, feeling that they just didn’t notice her hand sticking out. She just smiled, happy to be included while not really catching onto the fact that your mentioning of her was not in any way in a positive light.

It wasn’t that you hated Wanda so much, but it was that they were just friends from poli-sci, there wasn’t much to talk about besides classes and your immediate shallow issues about each other’s personal life, and Wanda always seemed to be scratching at the back of your head at some point or another.

Your friends, feeling that they wanted to stick up for you a bit in the face of the knowledge of how your stepmother had gotten on your nerves for such a prolonged amount of time, continued the conversation, finding easy segways into abrasive comments veiled at something cordial and friendly.

“It must be nice having Y/N out of the house,” your friend said. “She can really loiter when she has nothing in particular she has to get done.”

“No, I really like having her around,” Wanda replied, feeling some type of comfort talking about you to your friends. “I miss her a great deal when she’s away.”

Another friend said innocently while Wanda was looking at the food stand, eyeing your order and waiting for it to be called out, “I know she hates being at home, so I’m glad she has some time away.”

Wanda looked over to her. “W-What? Y/N?”

“Yeah. She was sort of dreading being home for the break.”

She wanted to not feel hurt about it, for it had to be the truth. There wasn’t any reason for your friends to lie to her as they’d been nothing but extremely kind. Wanda tried not to show the hurt that spread through her chest thinking about how you hated being at home while a large portion of what she did while you were at school was to wait for you to come back.

You being at home while Iryna was staying with her brought her comfort, and she hated to think that you never wanted to be there.

The person tending to the food stand called out the number of your order and she blinked out of her brief stupor and took the food from the stand, muttering out a ‘thank you’ before rejoining your friends. At that moment, you returned with your other friends and quickly said goodbye to them as they planned to sign up for a rowing club together for the summer semester.

Wanda looked at you, trying somehow to read in your expression any sort of hint of what she’d just been told being true. When you looked at her and took your half of your food from her, she looked away.

“Let’s go eat outside. There’s a quieter place by the orchard,” you told her, and Wanda followed behind you, carrying her food and a water bottle while you carried your own. She watched you from behind as if somehow she’d uncover your thoughts staring at your back.

Again, Wanda was uncharacteristically quiet when the two of you settled together at a wooden picnic table amongst cherry blossom trees. Now that it was spring, you thought the orchard looked beautiful, and even moreso now that the sun was setting and the sky was painted a mirage of purple and orange, hinting towards a rather hot day tomorrow.

Indirectly trying to figure out what seemed to upset her, you asked, “What, um… were you and Iryna fighting about? Like, that afternoon I talked to you.”

“Oh…” She fiddled with her fork and poked at her food. Then she looked up and smiled reassuringly. “It was silly, I just brought up something from Pietro’s and my childhood that she didn’t enjoy hearing my thoughts about.”

“She sounded angry.”

“I didn’t mean to bother you with that,” she said regretfully.

You took a bite of your food and you saw Wanda watch you for a moment, looking a bit forlorn, before she forked a bit of her own dinner into her mouth. After swallowing, you inquired, “Does she usually get angry like that? It seems like she’s always mad about something.”

Your stepmother responded, “I’m sorry for how things have been at home; I know you don’t like Iryna. She hasn’t been very kind to me either. I had a very hard childhood.” It seemed to you that Wanda was avoiding answering your questions. She’d gone from discussing every detail in her life, excited to share things about her personal life with you, to becoming completely evasive and almost worried about saying too much.

After hearing that you hated being at home, Wanda didn’t want to burden you with the weight of what was going on in a place you never wanted to be at. Though if she was honest, she also felt fairly saddened knowing how you felt, and now felt much less jovial than she was before.

The drive to your dorm was much less awkward than it was slightly distressing. You wished you knew what was on Wanda’s mind. You’d never seen her so… down. It was different from how she was before. For the entirety of the ride, you didn’t think once about hating her or yourself for the sentiment and concern you felt for her.

Seeing her act so different made you realise how much you relied on her for the eternal peace she brought, her warm embrace available to you with her open arms, the hopeful meeting of her eyes with yours and her attempts at becoming close with you, even if you had been purposefully avoiding her since her wedding months ago.

And most of all, there was an indescribable hollow feeling that came with watching such a warm light glow so dim.

Your dormitory building’s parking lot was emptier than usual as most people were planning to come back from their breaks after the weekend. Not even your roommates were home yet.

There was a strange comfort that your stepmother brought you as she walked down the hall beside you into your building, seeing her carry one of your luggages and looking around. You waited for an elevator together then took it up to the fourth floor where your place was.

You felt Wanda watching as you unlocked the door and despite how quiet she’d been, you could practically feel her curiosity emanating off of her as she waited to see your place. You let her in first and you watched as she looked around, taking note of the decor and wondering what was yours and what belonged to your roommates.

After the both of you left your shoes by the closed front door, you led Wanda into the hallway where your rooms were. She trailed behind you silently with your luggage wheeling behind her and stepped into your room once you turned on the light and wheeled the luggage in your hand by your desk. You took off your jacket and laid it on the back of your desk chair before hanging your keys up.

Wanda followed suit and moved your last luggage over to where yours was, still obviously curious about your room and all your things. It was much more decorated here than at home, and it was different seeing someplace you obviously loved being in evident by the care you put into adorning the walls with posters from your favourite movies and shows, covering your shelves with books and little trinkets and gifts.

Standing in your bedroom made her feel like she was in the centre of your life and although it made her happy to some degree taking so much of you in, Wanda also felt a bit downcast looking around and finding nothing she was familiar with — things about you she didn’t know before now.

There was a realisation coming up behind her that would soon tell her that she simply just had to accept that she wasn’t as close with you as she thought she was, and that she likely wouldn’t ever return to the kind of affection she used to share with you, even if only completely platonic.

“I’m sorta thirsty,” you said, the breaking of the silence making Wanda look over at you. “I’m gonna make hot chocolate. Do you want some?”

“Sure,” she replied with a small thankful smile.

You led her to sit down on your bed while you went to the kitchen.

Her hands laid flat against your bedspread, feeling how soft it was while she looked around your room. At the sight of a photo on your dressing table, she stood up and walked towards it.

It was a framed picture of you and your friends together at someone’s place, and it looked like it was for Christmas.

Wanda remembered that Christmas; she remembered arguing with her mother over the phone about her father’s death which occurred sometime around the holidays and how Vision cared little, if at all, about her not being entirely present. She remembered waiting for you to come back home.

You didn’t come back until Christmas Eve, and left on the second of January.

Textbooks lined your shelves along with some other books Wanda recognized from your bedroom. She looked at your plants and your desk, your pens and your calendar, and though she was painfully curious about all of it, it still hurt her a great deal looking at a life she had no part in.

Maybe it was selfish.

You returned with two mugs of hot chocolate and Wanda straightened and smiled at you, thanking you and taking her own into her hands. It wasn’t too hot, so she took a small sip of it before setting it down on your desk, which wasn’t too far from her spot on your bed.

You remained standing, leaning on your nightstand and sort of looking around drinking your hot chocolate. Then after a few moments of silence, you found the confidence in yourself to ask, “If you don’t mind, um, why was it hard? Your childhood. You said earlier that it was.”

“I don’t want to put a damper on your time away from home, Y/N,” Wanda told you and looked up. “I should… probably leave and stop pestering you with my being here.” She stood up and you reached over and took her hand.

“Well, I wanna know,” you insisted, perhaps a bit assertively, but you wanted to instil in her the knowledge that she wasn’t going to bother you, and a feeling that you wanted to know what was on her mind without explicitly saying you were curious about what was bothering her.

She regarded you for a little bit and you looked at her in return while she was weighing whether or not she should involve you in things she wished she’d never exposed you to. But it was true — Wanda had a difficult time saying no to you.

“It was hard because she has never been any less authoritative than she is now, even in my younger years,” she finally answered.

You carefully let go of her and set your mug down, then took a seat on the bed and in your silent eye contact with her, gestured that she sit down too.

Almost hesitantly, Wanda obliged and sat down beside you.

“How does Pietro deal with it?” you asked.

She put her hands in her lap and looked down at her knees. “No, Pietro was different,” she answered. “Pietro was always the perfect son. He did not have to worry about my mother being the way that she is with me, cynical and judgemental, because he’d always been mama’s pride.”

Wanda added, “We are very close. He went to the wedding and I talk with him often, but… yes, we had vastly different childhoods.”

“So, you had to deal with her on your own?”

She nodded and drew patterns against her knee with her fingernail, not looking up. “Her expectations, her criticisms,” she replied. “Could you believe that she’s been saying the same things to me all my life? Things that weigh down on me now I’ve heard her say since I was fourteen.”

Iryna was indeed harsh. You remembered how she called Wanda an ‘unaccomplished housewife,’ and you’d hardly even known her at the time.

“I wanted to make my mother happy, and I’ve done everything she’s asked me to. I married a man who provides for me and I have a family,” Wanda said. “And still… I’m still not enough for her.”

You couldn’t tell if you felt more angry with Iryna or sad for Wanda. All you knew was that there was a terrible pit in your stomach listening to Wanda recount her experiences with her mother.

“The days leading up to the wedding, I kept thinking about how happy she would be once she saw me achieving what she’d always wanted for me. I imagined her helping me with the wedding planning and her finally telling me that she was proud of me. But she didn’t even come. I begged her to, I told her she’d enjoy being there, and even that Pietro was coming. Then she visits, out of nowhere, after having not even mentioned wanting to see me since the first year I immigrated to America. And all she can do is pick apart my life; nothing I do is good enough for her. But I wish something was.”

Though you felt slightly useless for it, you took Wanda’s hand. She’d never talked about her mother before, not even when the two of you were together. She wrapped her fingers around your hand and you felt reassured in your action.

And then Wanda was… She was crying. Her tears fell against your hand and she raised her other to her face, wiping her tears but mostly hiding herself from you, ashamed of taking advantage of your patience.

“Wanda…” you whispered. “It’s okay.” She tried to move away when you wrapped your arm around her shoulders, upset with herself for being so pitiful as to cry in front of you. But you insisted and your arm rounded her shoulders tightly, your other hand squeezing hers.

Eventually she moved into your embrace, leaning her head against your chest and crying into you. It came to her how unfulfilled she felt and how much she was disappointing everyone, especially you. She felt like a child for being so upset. She felt pathetic. She wished she was more capable, more competent in being a better wife, a better daughter, a better stepmother.

You let go of her hand and wrapped both arms around her, enveloping her in a secure embrace while you hushed her softly against the side of her head.

She wiped her tears from her cheeks then straightened a little in your arms to be able to look up at you. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“Don’t apologise,” you told her and dropped one of your arms to allow her more space to move.

“No, not about that, I…” Wanda sniffled and took a breath before meeting your eyes. “Y/N, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just— I couldn’t be with you. I’m much past the age I was supposed to be to get married and have children. You have no idea how badly I wanted to…”

She trailed off then looked back up and continued, “But I needed to make something of myself. I’m thirty-two now, and you’re a college student. I felt like it was time I did something serious for myself. I needed to settle with a husband and have children. But I was happy we could stay together. I wanted to stay close with you, but you didn’t want to. You still don’t want anything to do with me.”

A sense of anxiety came over you when Wanda began to talk about her history with you. You weren’t ready to discuss what had happened between the two of you back then, and the heavy feeling of rejection came back up your throat as if the day their engagement was announced to you was only yesterday.

You stood up, taking your arms off of her and stepping back. “I-I think you should leave.”

Wanda sniffled and stood up, wiping her eyes once more and moving towards you. “I don’t want to leave. I want to stay and talk with you. I want to be here with you,” she confessed.

“I can’t talk about this, Wanda,” you said. She took your hand and prevented you from moving back from her any further.

She insisted, “You don’t have to talk. Just listen.”

When you finally met her eyes and shut your mouth, waiting for her to speak, Wanda took a breath. Then she spoke, “There’s a lot I have to apologise for in how I treated you and how I handled things with you. I’m sorry for throwing away the trust that I’d earned from you. I’m sorry for thinking that you’d just follow along with the decision I made without telling you about it first. I’m sorry for putting some nonexistent, childish desire to please my mother over you. I should’ve treated you with the respect that you deserve.”

Wanda looked into your eyes for a few silent moments, seemingly gaining some sort of confidence before her voice broke as she said, “I miss you so much. I think about you all the time when you’re away at school, and even when you’re home. I wish you would forgive me. I wish you would give me your attention.”

She inhaled and while you were frozen, she stepped towards you again so she was standing close in front of you. “I know it’s selfish. I know I’m selfish. But I want you to forgive me.”

Your legs felt weak.

Would it be a bad time to faint?

“I’m supposed to say that I would understand and that I would be okay if you never forgave me and if you hated me, and I would try, but I wouldn’t be able to,” Wanda confessed. She had all her cards face-up on the table. There was no point in hiding now. “Please forgive me.”

You looked at her with uncertainty, or perhaps a blank expression. You couldn’t imagine what you looked like now. All you could come to comprehend was the look on Wanda’s face, the desperation in her eyes, and you could feel the way she squeezed your hand.

“Wanda…” you whispered. “I don’t know what to do.”

She took one final step towards you and cupped the side of your face with her warm hand. “Let me show you,” she said softly, her eyes on yours as she leaned forward. Her lips met yours and her eyes closed along with yours.

It’d been so long.

Your hand lifted to her lower back and pulled her against you carefully as Wanda’s soft lips moved against yours, the very slow speed of her kiss full of impassioned fragility. You walked forwards and Wanda followed, taking steps back until the back of her knees met with your bed. She sat down and parted from the kiss.

She looked up at you as you stood in front of her and she tucked her hands under your shirt. She lifted it slowly and uncovered your stomach before pressing soft kisses there. One hand held your shirt up while the other ran up your side gently, her delicate fingers brushing against your skin and leaving shivers in their wake.

“Come sit down,” Wanda muttered against your skin then lifted her head to look at you again. You sat beside her and she lowered herself onto her knees so you were looking down at her. Her hands ran up your clothed thighs, her eyes not leaving yours for a moment until they darted down to your buttoned jeans.

Slowly, her hands moved up further and she undid your jeans, her head lolling to the side and resting against your knee.

From this angle, you could see down Wanda’s dress and at her white bralette, its delicate lace resting against her soft breasts and her nipples hardened against her dress. You swallowed, feeling your cheeks flush as your stepmother slipped your jeans with your panties down to your ankles and tugging them off. She pushed them to the side and moved herself between your thighs, revealing your glistening pussy.

She gave you one more look and a gentle smile before moving forward and pressing a soft kiss to the top of your cunt. Her hands moved up your hips, one moving to flatten against your lower back and the other slipping back down to rub your bare thigh.

Her tongue darted out and flicked at the hood of your clit, making you inhale sharply. Her tongue extended and she flattened it against your clit, the tip of it brushing deftly against your opening.

You saw her eyebrows push together as your flavour spread against her tongue. The hand against your back rounded your hip and she laid it against your stomach, gently pushing you back onto your elbows to allow her more access to you.

Eagerly, she delved deeper, her head burying itself further between your thighs. Her tongue teased at your opening before her lips wrapped around your clit, sucking softly then loosening to apply suction to your entire pussy. She released a few times with gentle pops then ran her tongue up your cunt and through your folds that became stickier by the second.

Your hand came to the back of your head and you entangled your fingers with her hair, looking down your stomach at her as she ate you out. “Fuck, Wanda, you look so pretty,” you uttered and you sort of saw her blush, and that made you smile.

Wanda’s hand came to your lower stomach and her thumb began rubbing circles against your clit while her mouth moved south, her tongue sliding itself in and out of your hole, coaxing herself further and further into you as she switched between having her tongue inside you and flicking it against the rim of your opening.

Her eyes opened and green eyes met yours with a chilling focus and you could swear you nearly started choking on the air you were breathing.

Jesus Christ.

Your fingers tightened around her hair and used it as a means to keep her pressed against your pussy while your hips began to buck upwards, grinding your cunt against her face. Each time you moved yourself upwards, Wanda’s lips parted momentarily from you and you could hear the wet suckling of her lips from around your pussy.

Your head was thrown back when she lifted herself from her heels and moved onto her knees. Both of her hands came to your ass, lifting you up against her as she ate you out with an indescribable fervour after growing impatient with the way you kept pulling your cunt away from her mouth with your thrusting.

“Come in my mouth, Y/N,” she breathed against you, her words muffled. “I’m here for you.”

Your orgasm coiled tight in your stomach and it took only a harsh pressure from Wanda’s thumb for you to finally come against her chin and mouth. Your walls constricted around her tongue and her thumb maintained its flicks against your clit.

Slowly, as you came down from your high, Wanda’s thumb ceased its actions and she carefully began cleaning you up, careful not to overstimulate you. She slid her hands out underneath you and watched you from between your thighs as you caught your breath, her fingers wiping at her chin and around her mouth.

There was a momentary feeling of doubt that came over her, the idea that perhaps you’d just send her home feeling worse than she ever had while feeling no less affectionate towards her as you did an hour ago. But you moved yourself onto your hands and leaned down to her, cupping her cheeks with her hair between your fingers.

You kissed her lips after angling her face up and Wanda closed her eyes, still on her knees as you sat in front of her. One hand moved down and you wrapped an arm around her waist, lifting her up so she was on her feet.

Parting from the kiss, you buried yourself in her breasts, pressing kisses up the soft swells that made the sweetest little moans leave your stepmother while your hands did quick work of undoing her dress. Wanda’s hand rested on your shoulders, fingers playing with your hair a little bit.

Your hands lifted to her sleeves and pulled them down her arms. Her dress fell to the floor and left Wanda in her bra and underwear in front of you. You trailed gentle kisses up from her lower stomach, your hands following along with your lips as they moved up her sides, squeezing her gently, possessively, until your lips reached the valley of her breasts.

Standing from the bed, your hand went to the side of her neck and supported her head as you delved into her neck, kissing her there and sucking gently at her pulse point. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known,” you told her.

Wanda buried her face in shoulder, overcome by your compliments and feeling her eyes well up from the sheer joy she felt being with you. She was led onto the bed and you kissed her hip when she was on her knees before she laid onto her back, her hair spread out against your pillows. She watched as you dug through your nightstand, eyes following as you lifted a strap and its harness out.

Teasingly, you moved the tip of the cock to her face and ran it down the line of her jaw and you and Wanda exchanged a humoured smile before you kissed her forehead. She watched in admiration as you stepped into the harness and fastened it around your hips. Then you undressed in front of her until you were completely bare and Wanda felt her heart skip several beats.

When you leaned over and kissed her while you got onto the bed on top of Wanda, she lifted her hands to your body, one hand brushing against your breasts and the other running up your side as one would caress a work of art.

You kissed her cheek and trailed kisses down to the corner of your stepmother’s jaw. Your hands rounded her body and unclipped her bra, then discarded it somewhere onto the floor. With two hands, you groped her breasts then squeezed them together before running your tongue over each erect nipple, feeling pride in the way Wanda’s breathing quickened.

“Turn around and stick your ass up in the air,” you told her. She obeyed immediately, her hands wrapped around the top of your pillow, her back arched and her ass stuck up for you.

You moved onto your knees, hands running up her hips then down the sides of her thighs, taking with you her panties. They were slid from her ankles and you lowered yourself to part her pussy with your thumbs, making Wanda hum in embarrassment into your pillow and bury her face into it.

“Tell me that you know you have a pretty pussy, Wanda,” you instructed, looking up over the curve of her ass to look at her. She turned her head and uncovered her face.

“I… I have a pretty pussy,” she repeated bashfully.

You smiled then patted her beautiful pink folds with your fingers, making her flinch forward slightly. “That’s right. Smart girl.”

Slowly, you slid your strap between her thighs then rounded your hips to her between her thighs where you pressed the tip of your cock up against her core. You carefully thrusted against her cunt until she became slick with her juices.

Wanda’s eyebrows stitched together and her lips parted to release her tiny moans, her fingers tightening around your pillows at the feeling of your cock rubbing against her delicate cunt. Then you slid your cock into her hole and began thrusting. Her eyes screwed shut and her moans became louder.

“Is this okay? Do you like that?”

“Yes,” she breathed out.

You pressed, “Are you sure?”

“Yes, yes,” she said hastily, then reached back to tap your hips with her fingers. “Faster, I want it faster. Don’t be gentle, Y/N. I can take it for you. I can take anything for you. Fuck me hard.”

You wrapped your arms around her hips and jerked her body back against you while you thrusted your hips forward into her bare ass. Your leg was lifted up around her thigh and pulled you against her further, giving you more leverage to fuck down into her pussy.

Her ass bounced beautifully each time you rutted against her, skin slapping rapidly as you fucked your stepmother. She moaned noisily, half her face shrouded from being pressed against her pillow. She whimpered and squealed when you took a handful of her ass and squeezed painfully before delivering a harsh slap to the delicate flesh.

You spanked her over and over until the soft ivory of her skin became a flushed red. You took pleasure in the way Wanda cried out at the feeling of being hit by you.

Driven by the sounds of her cries, you spanked her one more time then took her hair into your fist, pulling her up and forcing Wanda to put her arms out and hold herself up, arching her back and applying more pressure onto your hips from her ass. Her hand reached back further and she placed it flat against your lower back, encouraging your thrusts.

With your one arm still wrapped securely around her hips, holding her in place, you let go of her hair and took her wrist instead with your free hand and pulled her backwards, arching her back almost painfully and only pulling her back against your hips further.

“Take my cock, Wanda,” you grunted. “Fuck. Take it just like that, stupid slut.”

“I love your cock, Y/N,” she whined. “L-Love your cock.”

You watched as her breasts bounced with every one of your thrusts and you let go of her wrist to grope one, twisting one of her nipples and making her mewl something high-pitched and desperate.

Your hand rounded her body and you shoved her forward so her face was pressed back down into your pillow. Your hands wrapped around her hips and took hold of her body, fucking her pussy on your cock like she was a lifeless little fucktoy.

Her hands grasped at the bed sheets, pleasure coming over her body in overwhelming waves and making Wanda into nothing but your cockdrunk slut, whining and crying out your name, whimpering with every harsh thrust into her pussy.

“Y/N!” she cried out when she felt her walls begin to squeeze around your strap. “Ah! I’m going to come, Y/N—” Her words were cut off when she came around you, her loud moans reducing into a long cry that was constricted even further into tiny squeals.

Her sweaty body fell forward and she attempted to catch her breath until you continued fucking into her. “N-No more, Y/N, I can’t,” she pleaded, trying to pull away from you and move herself off of your cock.

You pulled her arm back and lifted her up before sliding your cock out of her.

“Please, I can’t do anymore, I’m—”

You cut off Wanda’s pleads with a harsh kiss and she immediately melted into your arms, letting you turn her body and press her back against the adjacent wall your bed was pressed up against. You lifted her thigh up and positioned yourself between her thighs. She wrapped her legs around your waist and you thrusted yourself back into her.

An arm snaked around her waist and you helped her bounce on your cock while you thrusted forward against her, her upper back pressed against your wall. Her arms wrapped around your neck for support as you started fucking her against the wall, her breasts pressed against yours and her head lolled forward, her forehead slick with her sweat laying against your cheek.

“You’re gonna take my fucking cock, dirty slut,” you bit, grunting into her ear. “I’ll fuck you whenever I please. Won’t you let me, mommy? Won’t you let your special girl use your slutty pussy whenever I want?”

“Y-Yes, yes, Y/N,” Wanda answered. “You can take what you want. I’m yours.”

Your hand moved between your bodies and you squeezed Wanda’s breast before you ducked your head down and wrapped your lips around one of her nipples. She sighed out at the heavenly feeling, opening her eyes just enough to be able to see you suckling greedily at her through the mess of her damp hair.

Her orgasm quickly built up again and her fingernails clawed at your upper back, feeling that this orgasm was creeping up stronger than the last. “I’m close, Y/N,” she whispered, her throat sore from crying out.

“Come for me, mommy,” you told her, biting down on her nipple and making her yelp out. Then you lifted your head and kissed her cheek to grunt into her ear, “Show your sweet babygirl how much you love her big thick cock fucking your tight little pussy.”

Wanda’s hand slid up to the back of your head and she held you in place, loving the feeling of having you close to her. Her head lolled back against the wall and she let you scratch at her hips and grope her breasts, bite down on her neck and pull her hair.

The pressure in her lower stomach finally snapped and Wanda partially-muffled her pleasured screams with her face buried in your neck, allowing you to hear each break in the outcries of her orgasm, the way she called out your name, each syllable ghosting against the tip of her tongue as she spoke it through her release. Her thighs tightened around your hips, keeping you in place.

With her arms squeezed around you, her sweaty body warm and breathing hard against your own, you suddenly felt overcome by a wave of emotion.

When you lifted your head to see Wanda after having come down from her high with her head laying against your shoulder, her messy strands of hair against her damp forehead and her mascara mostly gone and slightly smudged under her eyes, her lipstick faded and likely spread across your own face, you felt that you’d never seen anything so beautiful.

“Are you feeling alright?�� you asked.

“I’m so happy,” she replied quietly, her eyes closed. “I love being with you.”

With a smile, you lifted her from the wall and laid her down on the bed, letting her breathing steady for a moment while you removed the harness from around your hips and laid it down on the floor.

“That tired me out,” she huffed when you laid yourself on top of her.

“Old woman,” you teased and buried your face in her neck, kissing up to her jaw. “Who knew you’d be so good at eating pussy?”

She grinned slyly albeit with a twinge of fatigue that made her look so cute. “You couldn’t have guessed?”

“What was your time in college like? Were you as much of a slut then as you are now?”

Wanda laughed and you kissed the corner of her mouth, adoring the way she looked when she smiled. “Bigger.”

“No way.”

She laughed harder. “I’m kidding.”

“Dude. I was ready with several questions if you were actually more slutty then than you are now. Because I mean… damn.”

“Y/N,” Wanda giggled.

“I’m joking. I think you’re amazing, you know?”

You kissed her temple, letting your lips linger for a couple moments while Wanda closed her eyes, letting herself feel loved.

When you pulled away, she opened them and met your eyes. “I know.”

“Cool,” you said and laughed through your nose. You slipped off of her and helped Wanda get under the blankets before you followed. Carefully, you removed her earrings and reached over her to set them down on the nightstand. Then you kissed her.

Wanda’s hands came to the sides of your face, her thumbs rubbing your cheekbones gently, adoringly. She pecked your lips one more time when you pulled away. “I want to wake up with your hands on me. I want to be yours even in my sleep.”

“You’d like that, mommy?” you teased lightheartedly.

Wanda flushed and looked away, but you kissed her cheek and you felt the corner of her lips pull up into a smile against your own. “It makes me blush when you call me that.”

“Stay the night,” you told her. “Don’t leave.”

“Really? Here?”

You nodded.

She asked, “On the couch?”

“No,” you laughed. “Here. Right here. With me.”

Wanda regarded you with soft eyes and a small smile, feeling so filled with love and admiration for you. Then she said, “You’re going to regret doing this with me, Y/N. Maybe not tonight when you wake up and find me still here laying with you, or tomorrow, but someday you will.”

“What? What are you talking about?” you asked and moved onto your elbow.

“It is no life for someone as young as you with so many other opportunities to find something better, to choose a life with someone older. Someone like me. Even if only for a short while.”

You shook your head immediately and Wanda cupped your cheek with your hand, telling you that she understood and that it was okay. But you brushed her hand off of you and looked down at her seriously. “Wanda, this isn’t just going to be a short while. I… I want this. I want you.”

“You don’t want me.”

“I do,” you insisted sternly. She shook her head and looked away. You placed your hand on the side of her face and made her look at you. “Why are you doing that? Why don’t you believe me?”

“All I do is disappoint people, Y/N. You don’t think that, at some point, my mother had faith in me? And everyone who ever thought I’d be more than what I am now? And you?”

You rubbed at your eyes with the back of your hand, feeling yourself tear up.

“Don’t cry, baby, please,” Wanda said, reaching up to wipe your tears. But you sat up out of her reach and looked down at her.

“This is real, Wanda,” you told her and dropped your hands into your lap. “It’s real. How I feel about you is real. It isn’t just going to be something that’ll go away when you make a mistake or when things get hard. I’m not going to go anywhere.” She looked up at you, seemingly astonished. “You’re not going to get rid of me. I’m not going to let you.”

She whispered your name quietly, but you continued, “I don’t care what you think will happen. I want to be with you.”

You must’ve started crying at some point because Wanda sat up and wrapped her arms around you, rubbing her hand up and down your back, hushing you softly and holding you close to her. Your tears warmed her bare shoulder and you hugged your arms around her.

“Okay, I believe you, Y/N,” she said.

“No, you don’t. You’re just saying that to make me stop crying.”

Wanda pulled away and looked at you. “No, I’m not. I believe you,” she asserted. Her arms unwrapped from around your shoulders and she held your face in her hands. “Thank you.”

It was when your tears finally dried that you saw that Wanda was crying too. You leaned forward and kissed her. “You won’t leave? In the middle of the night or something?” you asked. She shook her head.

Wanda laid back down in your bed and you followed after turning the lamp on your bedside table off. You wrapped her arms around her body the moment you sunk down in bed with her, your bare bodies sharing in each other’s warmths under the blankets.

“I love you,” you promised.

She replied, “I love you too.”

Wrapped in your body and feeling filled to the brim with your promises of love and commitment, Wanda was kept up in your bed after you fell asleep as she basked in the scent of you, the silence of your bedroom, the sound of your breathing.

Iryna always had the power of making Wanda feel like a child, of a wandering daydreamer with an overly-sensitive spirit set on a path of following her heart and nothing more.

Maybe her mother was right about her.

And for the first time in all her life, Wanda felt proud about that.

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