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armpirate · 1 day ago

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The Vows Between Us || Jungkook

pairing: JK x fem!reader || Arranged marriage

w.c.: 13.6k

Warnings: smut, dirty talk, oral sex (male receiving), female masturbation, unprotected sex, teasing, edging (Minors DNI! Refrain from reading if you're not +18, and ignore if you don't like this type of content)

Aprox. time of reading: 40 / 50 minutes

Summary: For Jungkook, marrying you was a calculated move -a necessary step to secure the company that was rightfully his. But also a move to know you'd be his after years of looking at you from afar. For you, it was an escape from the gilded cage your family had locked you in. What neither of you anticipated was the spark that would ignite in the ashes of your arrangement. But in a world where every touch felt like a promise and every whisper hid a secret, falling for him was your first mistake. Because just when you thought his heart might truly be yours, you uncovered the truth. Or so you thought.

MASTERLIST

The air inside Jungkook's office was warm and suffocating despite the minimalistic modern design and large floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked Berlin's skyline. You stepped inside with measured steps, your heels clicking softly on the marble floor. Jungkook was already there, leaning against the edge of his grand wooden desk with his long tattooed fingers wrapping around the pen that kept swirling on his digits every few seconds, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.

"You're early," he said, his voice smooth but laced with something smug.

"I prefer to get unpleasant things over with quickly," you replied, your tone cool and detached as you slipped off your coat. "I assume your father told you why I'm here."

Jungkook chuckled, swirling the pen one last time before putting it down. "Oh, I know. The future Mrs. Jeon wants to 'discuss terms,' right? Sounds like a business merger already." his dark eyes gleamed with interest as he looked you up and down, deliberately slow. "But I'm curious, why did you finally agree? You seemed so determined to avoid me before."

You crossed your arms, meeting his gaze without flinching. "Not everything is about you, Jungkook. My reasons are my own."

The smirk faltered for a split second before returning, this time tinged with something bittersweet. "Fair enough," he said, straightening up and taking a step closer, his voice dropping just slightly. "But you'll have to get used to things being about us. At least, that's what everyone else will expect starting next weekend."

Your pulse quickened, but you refused to show it. You kept your expression neutral, tilting your head just slightly. "Let's get one thing straight, this marriage may be inevitable, but that doesn't mean I have to like it."

Jungkook smiled -slow, dangerous, and entirely too pleased. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

That sentence alone had you rolling your eyes, trying to control yourself from slipping your tongue on how disgusted you were by that whole thing.

You exhaled slowly, your fingers tightening around the strap of yourbag. "As long as you understand where we stand, this arrangement might work. We'll play the perfect couple for the public. But behind closed doors, we keep our distance until we sign the divorce papers. Simple."

Jungkook stepped closer, closing the space between you just enough to make your breath hitch. His cologne -warm and spicy- wrapped around you like an invisible trap. "Keep our distance?" he repeated, his voice low, almost amused. "Is that what you want? Because that's not what it looked like back at that business gala... when you couldn't stop staring."

As much as you wanted to deny it, your eyes were indeed on him the whole time. He was charming and captivating, it was impossible to move your eyes away from him. But that hypnosis lasted until his family came up with the idea of imposing that marriage on you. He lost all his charm just at that moment.

You narrowed your eyes. "I was staring at the disaster unfolding around me, not at you."

Jungkook smirked, tilting his head. "Right. That's why your eyes followed me the entire night." he leaned in, his lips just a breath away from your ear. "You're good at playing it cold, Y/n. But I wonder how long you can keep that act up once we're married."

You refused to back down, your voice calm despite the spark of irritation in your chest. "I've dealt with men far more intimidating than you, Jungkook. Trust me, keeping you at arm's length won't be a challenge."

A flicker of something darker crossed his eyes -something almost dangerous. For a moment, the air between you felt heavy, charged with unspoken words and years of unresolved tension.

"Good," Jungkook finally said, his voice a whisper. "Keep trying to resist me. It'll make it that much more fun when you fail."

Your jaw tightened, and you took a step back, reclaiming the distance. "You're delusional if you think I'll ever fall for you."

Jungkook raised his eyebrows in amused awe as he took on the challenge. "We'll see, future Mrs. Jeon. We've got a lifetime to test that theory."

You turned on your heel, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing how his words affected you. But as you walked toward the door, you couldn't shake the feeling that Jungkook was right. The real challenge wasn't staying distant -it was making sure you didn't get burned by the fire between you.

"By the way, you mentioned divorce... didn't you?" your tracks stopped the second he mentioned that detail, hearing his heavy steps behind you as he approached his body.

Slowly, you turned to him, unable to back down on your stance "That's what we agreed on."

"Some deals suffer changes as they have to meet different necessities, don't you think?" the way his eyebrows arched, while his lips pursed on a mocking grin almost had you losing your patience. "Divorce was ever on the plate? Because I don't think it was one of my conditions".

"No, it was one of mine" you spat back. "Either sign those divorce papers on good terms, or I'll drag you from one trial to another" Jungkook loved the challenge, he loved the way your eyes fixed on him to make sure he understood everything you were saying.

"What if I don't want to sign them?"

"Then you'll have to find another dumbass to agree to get married to you" you rolled your eyes, thinking that would be the end of your conversation, but his fingers hooked on your elbow to stop you from walking away.

You weren't sure exactly when he got so close, but you could feel the warm air escaping his nostrils on your cheeks.

"Don't try to throw a fist at me" he stopped you. "You're so used to getting what you want, don't you? You pout a little, you act a little bitchy and daddy gives you all you want. Let me give you a spoiler: that won't work with me. The moment you're my wife, you'll do as I say. And if I say I don't want to get divorced, then you won't get those fucking papers".

Your eyes started to water: rage, sadness, frustration... All those feelings were building up as you realized you got to a no-exit stop. Your plans were crumbling down, all your ideas were getting ruined, and all you could do was tighten your lips and open your eyes as much as possible so tears wouldn't escape with a blink.

Daddy's girl? He had absolutely no idea. If you were living in such a perfect place, you wouldn't have agreed in the first place, but the fact that your parents -or people who gave you shelter when you needed it- agreed on engaging their daughter with a complete stranger for money should've given him enough of a hint of your reality.

"Your choice" you managed to get rid of his grip. "Either sign those papers, or I'll make sure to tell everyone what all of this is about".

"You won't. And you wanna know how I know?" he took one step closer to you. "I'll make your life a living hell if you do".

"With what power?"

Your mocking tone was the last straw before he moved his hand from your elbow to your throat, wrapping his fingers around it and slamming your body against the wide door.

"I don't need any power for that." his eyes were dark, his threat becoming a promise "Even if it's the last thing I do, I'll make you regret ever messing with me. So you better come with a pretty dress and the best of attitudes next weekend". He let go of your throat slowly, calmly placing his shirt properly "I know you'll make the best decision" he finally said.

Your eyes were fixed on him, confused at how easily he let you go. And, somehow, his words were even scarier than his actions, because you could see the threat through them.

The grand hall was filled with muted whispers and expectant gazes, the air thick with anticipation. The soft hum of violins played in the background, their melody delicate but almost haunting. The guests sat in rows beneath an arch of white roses and crystal chandeliers, their eyes flitting between the tall doors at the back of the aisle and Jungkook, who stood at the altar in his perfectly tailored black suit, waiting.

His fingers twitched at his sides as he stole a glance at the watch, sliding the sleeve of his jacket just a bit far up.

Ten minutes late. Then fifteen.

You weren't there.

He told himself you'd show up. You had to. But with each passing second, doubt sank its claws deeper into him. His heart pounded, and the polished facade he wore so well began to crack. Was this your way of backing out? A silent rebellion against a marriage neither of you had chosen? Were you actually telling the truth when you said you wouldn't show up if he didn't promise you a divorce?

The doors remained closed, and Jungkook's jaw tightened. His father, seated in the front row, shot him a warning glance -one that practically screamed "Handle this".

Then, just as his patience teetered on the edge of collapse, the heavy doors finally creaked open.

A hush fell over the crowd.

And there you were.

You stood at the entrance in your wedding dress, the long veil trailing behind you, catching the soft light like a halo. For a moment, the room seemed to blur around you, everything fading except the heavy thud of your heart. You could feel every eye on you, the weight of their expectations pressing down on your chest, stealing the breath from your lungs.

Your feet felt like concrete as you took your first step. Hesitation rooted itself deep inside you, your body caught in a battle between instinct and obligation.

Jungkook watched you with an intensity that bordered on desperation. His dark eyes flickered with a thousand questions. You couldn't miss the way his shoulders tensed or how his lips pressed into a thin line, betraying the fear he was trying so hard to conceal.

Step by step, you made your way down the aisle, but each step felt heavier than the last. Doubt whispered cruelly in your ear. "You don't have to do this" you told yourself.

Your fingers clutched the bouquet so tightly that your knuckles turned white. You forced yourself forward, your gaze fixed ahead, refusing to meet Jungkook's eyes until you stood just a breath away from him.

"Finally," Jungkook muttered under his breath, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

There was relief in his tone, but it was wrapped in a layer of frustration.

The officiant began to speak, his words echoing in the cavernous hall. You barely registered them, your mind a tangled mess of emotions. Jungkook's eyes never left yours. His expression was calm on the surface, but you could see the storm raging just beneath it: fear, frustration, and something dangerously close to longing.

"And now," the officiant said, his voice cutting through the fog in your mind, "if the bride and groom would like to exchange their vows."

Jungkook went first. His voice was steady, but the practiced words carried an unexpected weight, laced with sincerity that caught you off guard.

"I promise to protect you," he said, his gaze locking onto yours. "To stand beside you through whatever comes next. No matter what happens... I'm yours."

There was a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes -just a flash- but it was enough to send your heart lurching in your chest.

Then it was your turn. The officiant turned to you expectantly, waiting for your response.

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came.

A heavy silence hung in the air. It stretched long enough to make the guests shift uncomfortably in their seats. Even the soft melody of the violins seemed to falter.

Everything you had prepared so mindfully disappeared at the feeling of being so watched, as if you were under watchful eye. You were sure it'd be obvious you weren't feeling either of the words you were pronouncing.

Jungkook's fingers curled slightly at his sides, his eyes searching yours for a sign, for anything.

The officiant cleared his throat. "Do you, Y/n, take Jeon Jungkook to be your lawfully wedded husband?" his tone was insistent, as if he wanted to get any words from you to get all of that over with.

The pause that followed was suffocating. You felt Jungkook's breath catch, his entire body coiled tight, ready to unravel.

Although he hoped you wouldn't humiliate him that way, he saw you completely able to do it.

Finally, you whispered the words.

"...I do."

Your voice was barely audible, a breath more than a declaration. But it was enough.

Jungkook exhaled, his shoulders relaxing, though the tension in his jaw remained. His eyes never left yours, dark and unreadable, as if trying to solve a puzzle with too many missing pieces.

The officiant smiled, oblivious to the war waging between the two of you. "By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Jungkook hesitated, just for a heartbeat, before leaning in. Your head immediately threw back slightly, enough for him to know you didn't want that kiss and make it seem like a shy move for the rest of the assistants. His hand found your waist -firm but not forceful- as he tilted his head and pressed his lips to yours.

The kiss was brief, calculated for the audience, but the heat of it lingered far longer than it should have. Jungkook had been daydreaming way too long about it to waste that chance.

His lips were warm against yours, but there was something else beneath the surface. A question. A challenge.

When he pulled back, his eyes locked on yours once more. He didn't smile. Neither did you.

The applause from the crowd felt distant, like it belonged to another world entirely.

As the two of you turned to face the audience, Jungkook leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear.

"We're just getting started," he whispered, his voice dark with promise.

You kept your face neutral, your expression unreadable, but your pulse betrayed you, thudding wildly in your chest.

The reception was a spectacle of luxury and elegance, just as expected from a merger of two powerful families. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over the grand hall, where hundreds of guests mingled, sipping champagne and exchanging polite congratulations.

You smiled and nodded your way through countless conversations, always keeping one eye on Jungkook. He was never far, and every time you saw him start toward you, you slipped between groups of guests or ducked behind another table.

You had managed to avoid him all night. At the cake-cutting ceremony, his hand had hovered near yours on the knife, holding tighter over your skin as you threatened to let the long sword slide from your fingers to his throat. And for a fleeting moment, you thought he might say something, yet he only smirked and moved closer to you. You were quick to turn away, disappearing into the crowd the moment the applause broke, trying to get away from him.

Jungkook, however, was nothing if not persistent.

The moment you saw him again, his dark eyes locked onto yours from across the dance floor. This time, there was no escape. The crowd parted just enough for him to make his way toward you, his strides deliberate and confident.

"Running from me again?" he said when he reached you, his voice low, a challenge glinting in his eyes.

You lifted your chin, forcing your expression to stay composed. "I wasn't running. I was... mingling with the guests."

His lips curled into a smirk. "Right. Mingling." he offered his hand, palm open and waiting. "Well, it's time for the first dance, Mrs. Jeon. You wouldn't want to disappoint our guests, would you?"

Your stomach tightened at the weight of his words. There was no getting out of this. Not without causing a scene.

With a quiet sigh, you slipped your hand into his. His fingers curled around yours, warm and firm, and you couldn't help but notice how easily they fit together.

The lights dimmed, and the soft melody of "You Are the Reason" by Calum Scott filled the air. A sweet, tender song -one that felt far too intimate for the situation, as if it was meant for two people who loved each other.

Jungkook led you to the center of the dance floor, his hand resting gently on your waist, pulling you just close enough to make your pulse stutter.

"I was starting to think you wouldn't show up today," he said softly, his voice barely audible over the music. His eyes searched yours, the teasing edge gone now, replaced by something far more serious. "You made me worried."

You swallowed, your gaze dropping for a split second before meeting his again. "I was... thinking things through."

His hand tightened slightly on your waist. "Did you change your mind at the last minute?"

For a moment, you didn't answer. The question hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning. The song swelled around you, the lyrics wrapping around your heart like a bittersweet lullaby.

You knew hell would be nothing compared to your life if you didn't show up to the wedding. Not because of Jungkook or his family though, but your adoptive parents. The moment you twisted all of their plans, there would be no escape from it.

At least with Jungkook you wouldn't owe anyone anything. Instead, you'd be the one they owe something to.

Jungkook's eyes softened, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "If you had, I would've waited. I would've found another way."

Your breath hitched. His words caught you off guard -unexpected and disarming. For the first time that night, the wall you had so carefully built around yourself began to crack.

He seemed so genuine, so caring.

"I'm here now," you said, your voice steadier than you felt. "That's all that matters."

His gaze lingered on you for a long moment before he nodded. "Yeah. You're here."

The music continued, the world around you fading as you moved together in perfect synchrony. His touch was light yet grounding, his eyes never leaving yours.

For a fleeting second, you forgot about the crowd, the expectations, the tangled mess of your circumstances. It was just the two of you, swaying gently beneath the chandeliers, the lyrics of the song weaving a story neither of you was ready to admit aloud.

As the final notes faded, Jungkook leaned in just slightly, his voice a soft murmur against your ear.

"You can keep running all you want," he said, his breath warm on your skin. "But sooner or later, you'll stop. And when you do... I'll be right here, waiting."

You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. There was no smirk, no mask, just him.

The applause from the crowd broke the spell, and you quickly stepped back, your heart thudding painfully in your chest. Jungkook let you go, but his eyes stayed on you, dark and unreadable, as if daring you to run again.

And maybe you would. But for the first time, a small part of you wondered if running was really what you wanted. No, you stayed by his side, answering to his challenge with the same power he was showing off.

The party blurred into a collection of clinking glasses, polite congratulations, and watchful eyes. Despite the sea of guests surrounding you, you felt like you were holding your breath the entire time. So when Jungkook leaned close and whispered, "Let's get out of here," you didn't argue. If he hadn't said it, you probably would've escaped by yourself.

Now, the two of you sat in the back of a sleek black car, the hum of the city filling the silence between you. The driver navigated the streets with ease, the warm glow of streetlights flashing across the car's interior.

Jungkook sat beside you, his posture relaxed, but his eyes kept drifting toward your hand -the wedding ring glinting softly on your finger. He didn't bother hiding the fact that he was staring.

You caught him once, raising an eyebrow. "Something wrong?"

His gaze flicked up to meet yours, and for a second, something unreadable flashed across his face. "No," he said quietly. "Just getting used to the sight."

You turned your hand slightly, the light catching on the diamond. The ring was beautiful, of course -a complex design that was probably picked out by your parents and Jungkook's father rather than by either of you. It felt foreign on your finger, a constant reminder of the deal you'd made.

Jungkook's lips twitched into something that wasn't quite a smile. "It suits you," he said, his voice soft, almost contemplative.

You said nothing, turning your head to watch the city rush by through the window. Jungkook simply smirked, knowing that your silence was better than a sassy response from you.

When the car finally pulled up to the luxury hotel, you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. The driver opened the door, and you stepped out, feeling the cool night air brush against your skin. Jungkook followed close behind, his hand hovering near the small of your back but never quite touching.

The suite was exactly what you expected -grand and luxurious, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a stunning view of the Brandenburg Gate. A bottle of champagne and a tray of chocolates waited on the marble table, while a large king-sized bed sat at the center of the room, draped in crisp white linens.

You set your bag down and turned to Jungkook, folding your arms across your chest. "I'll take the bed. You can sleep on the couch."

His eyebrows lifted slightly, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "The couch?"

"It's comfortable enough," you said, nodding toward the plush, oversized sofa near the window. "Plenty of space."

Jungkook took a step closer, his expression unreadable. "We're married now, remember? Sharing the bed won't kill us."

You scoffed lightly, crossing the room to stand by the couch. "Not happening." You glanced back at him, raising an eyebrow. "Fine. You take the bed. I'll sleep here." you rushed to say, feeling your energy consumed by the small talk you made with all the guests.

"No." his response was immediate, his tone firm. "You're not sleeping on the couch."

"Then am I sleeping on the floor?" you arched an eyebrow "Because I won't sleep with you in the same bed".

You stared at him, daring him to argue further. But to your surprise, he sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. "Alright. I'll sleep on the couch."

His sudden surrender caught you off guard. "Just like that?"

He smirked faintly, tossing his jacket onto a chair. "I'm not going to win this argument, am I?"

You watched him for a moment, suspicious of how easily he gave in, but ultimately decided not to push it. "Good. I'll get ready for bed."

As you disappeared into the bathroom, Jungkook sank onto the couch, leaning his head back against the cushions. He glanced at the wedding ring on his own hand, turning it slowly between his fingers. For all his confidence and charm, there was something strangely grounding about the weight of the band.

As much as that wasn't the way he wanted you to be by his side, it somehow made him feel good.

When you returned, dressed in something far more comfortable than your wedding gown, Jungkook was already stretched out on the couch, one arm draped over his eyes.

"Comfortable?" you asked, standing by the bed.

He peeked at you from beneath his arm, his lips quivering into a faint smile. "I've had worse."

You rolled your eyes and climbed into bed, pulling the blankets up around you. For a few moments, silence filled the room, the only sound the soft hum of the city outside the windows.

Just as your eyes started to drift closed, you heard Jungkook's voice -quiet but clear in the darkness.

"Goodnight, Y/n."

You hesitated before responding, your voice soft. "Goodnight, Jungkook."

Neither of you said anything after that, but sleep didn't come easily. You lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling, painfully aware of his presence just a few feet away.

The distance between you felt both vast and dangerously fragile. And as the minutes stretched into hours, you couldn't help but wonder how long it would stay that way.

The morning started quietly -too quietly. You woke up, blinking against the soft morning light spilling into the room, only to find Jungkook already sitting on the couch, his phone in hand. His jacket was gone, and his dress shirt, slightly wrinkled from the night before, was unbuttoned at the collar. He looked far too relaxed for someone who had spent the night on a couch after your wedding.

"Good morning," he said, his eyes flicking to yours the second you stirred. His voice was calm, but there was something smug lurking just beneath the surface, as if he was already one step ahead of you.

You rubbed your eyes, forcing yourself to sound composed. "Morning."

A few beats of silence passed, too long to be comfortable.

"You were tossing and turning last night," Jungkook said casually, stretching his arms behind his head. "Couldn't sleep?"

"I slept just fine," you lied, standing and heading for your bag. You could feel his eyes on your every move, sharp and assessing.

"You sure? You sounded restless." his voice was smooth, laced with amusement.

You froze, giving him a flat look. "Were you listening to me sleep?"

He grinned, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "It's hard not to when someone mutters 'This is a mistake' at 2 a.m."

Your face heated. "I did not..."

"You did." his smirk widened. "I thought about waking you up to ask what you meant, but I figured I'd let you dream about it instead."

You crossed your arms, your patience wearing thin. "Thanks for your consideration, Jungkook."

"Anything for you, love," he said, drawing out the word with deliberate sarcasm.

"You've really mastered being annoying, haven't you?" you shot back, heading toward the closet.

"Years of practice," he said, standing up and stretching, his shirt riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of skin. "You'll get used to it."

You rolled your eyes, yanking open your suitcase with unnecessary force. "God forbid."

Jungkook chuckled under his breath, walking over to lean casually against the wall beside you. "You can deny it all you want, but deep down, you like this."

You turned to glare at him. "Like what?"

"This," he said, gesturing between the two of you. "The bickering. The back-and-forth. Admit it, it's fun."

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady. "Jungkook, not everything is a game. And if you think this -whatever this is- counts as fun, then we're going to have a very long, very difficult marriage."

He tilted his head, pretending to think. "A long marriage... Sounds like you're planning to stick around. It does sound really good to me."

"Oh my god," you muttered, turning on your heel. "I can't do this right now."

You stalked toward the bathroom, determined to get a moment's peace.

"You're already giving up?" he called after you. "We've been married for less than 24 hours, Y/n!"

"I'm not giving up. I'm taking a shower," you snapped, slamming the bathroom door shut.

The water was a relief, washing away some of the tension, but your frustration lingered like a storm cloud. And then, halfway through shampooing your hair, you realized something.

You forgot to bring clothes.

You let out a frustrated groan, rinsing the shampoo quickly before wrapping yourself in a towel. The last thing you wanted was to ask Jungkook for help, so you cracked the door open and peeked out.

He was still there, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, clearly waiting for your return like some smug predator.

Of course.

You squared your shoulders and stepped out, keeping your head high as you made your way toward the bag.

Jungkook's eyes found you immediately, sweeping over your damp hair and the towel wrapped tightly around you. He didn't even try to hide it.

"Forgot something?" his voice was low and teasing.

"Not a word," you warned, grabbing your clothes.

But before you could escape back to the bathroom, his hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. His fingers were warm, firm, and far too steady for someone who was enjoying this way too much.

"Why bother going back?" he said softly, his voice dropping into that dangerously calm tone that always made your pulse race. "You're already here."

You tightened your grip on your towel. "Let me go, Jungkook."

His eyes darkened, his thumb brushing against your wrist in a slow, deliberate motion. "Why? What's the big deal? We're married now, remember?"

Your breath caught, but you forced your voice to stay steady. "I'm not afraid of you, if that's what you're thinking."

He leaned in just slightly, his lips curving into a smirk. "Then prove it. Get changed right here." His gaze dropped for a split second before meeting yours again, his voice barely a whisper. "Unless you're shy."

Your heart thundered in your chest, heat rushing to your face. "I'm not shy."

You weren't shy, but you didn't like the way your body was reacting to his voice, to his petition and his proximity. And you certainly didn't want him to see it so clearly either.

"Then go ahead," he said, his voice practically daring you.

You glared at him, yanking your wrist free. "Turn around."

"I'm not turning around" he sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. "What's the fun of it if I can't see you?"

He was trying to intimidate you, challenge you to do something he thought you wouldn't dare to do, so he could then tease you about it.

Two could play that game.

You placed the clothes on the bed, next to where he was. Taking one step back, your hands were placed on both edges of the towel, slowly undoing the knot to let it pool at your feet. Jungkook gulped thick at the sight, not expecting you to actually get naked in front of him, and even less that way, and it gave you a pinch of pride at how nervous he looked for a second.

You didn't need to do anything, just that stare and the sight of your body alone was enough to awaken the most primal needs. His body responded to you, even if it had been just a second he saw you. Your humid skin, the way some drops fell from your hair and rolled down the curve of your breast to get to your hardened nipple. His mouth was watering just with the need of tasting you.

Jungkook blinked, confused at the way your hand was stretched out for him, "The panties" you mentioned as if it were obvious.

His hand moved to his left, grabbing the fabric to hand it out to you. You put them on torturously slow, covering your lower half to snap your fingers and asking him for your bra. Placing the strips on your shoulders, you turned to him, your body fitting perfectly in between his semi-parted legs as you silently asked him to tie the clasp.

Shivers ran through your body at the contact of the reverse of his fingers on your skin, his touch holding on longer than necessary, just because he liked the way you felt as he touched you a little bit too much.

You didn't need to ask, because Jungkook moved to the next item the moment you stepped away.

He should've seen it coming for him when he saw you lifting your feet, placing it on his thigh -way too close to a place where he needed you like crazy. Your fingers moved calmly, sliding the tight over your leg, up the curve of your knee, moving it past your thigh. Yet Jungkook could only focus on how your warmth spread over his skin like wildfire, making him feel you were touching him in places you were not.

When you finally stepped back to put on the other side of the tight, and the rest of clothes, Jungkook felt like he could breathe again, his control coming back to him when he was able to think straight -which also happened when you were fully clothed again.

You thought he'd hesitate or act shy, but instead his cocky attitude came back as he stood up, the height difference becoming obvious again as he towered over you.

"See how it isn't that difficult to be a good girl?" he muttered, just loud enough for you to hear.

You'd have thrown a shoe at him if he hadn't hidden inside the bathroom immediately after airing out that response.

He was insufferable.

The car ride to Jungkook's house was quiet, tense, and far too long for your liking. The morning sun bathed the streets in gold, but it did nothing to lighten the atmosphere inside the vehicle. Jungkook sat beside you, one arm draped lazily across the back of the seat, his eyes occasionally drifting toward you as you stared resolutely out the window.

He had been surprisingly well-behaved since the towel incident, keeping his teasing remarks to a minimum -though his occasional glances were enough to keep you on edge.

When the car finally pulled up in front of his house, your eyes widened slightly. House was an understatement. It was a sprawling modern estate with sleek glass panels, sharp architectural lines, and an air of quiet luxury.

"Home sweet home," Jungkook said, stepping out of the car and holding the door open for you with a half-smirk.

You stepped out, clutching your overnight bag tightly. "Big enough so we won't have to see each other for a whole day"

"Thanks for noticing," he quipped. "Come on. I'll give you the grand tour."

You followed him up the steps, trying not to be too impressed as you took in the pristine interior-marble floors, minimalist décor, and massive windows that flooded the space with light.

"Kitchen's over there," Jungkook said, gesturing toward an open-concept area with gleaming countertops. "Dining room, living room... you know, standard rich-guy stuff."

"Right," you said dryly. "Because this is completely normal."

He glanced back at you with a grin. "You'll get used to it." the mockery on his tone, knowing damn too well you were used to all that luxury and more, shouldn't have been as funny as it seemed for you.

You rolled your eyes, walking a little faster to avoid his gaze. The tension from earlier was still there, simmering just beneath the surface, but it was muted now, replaced by an odd sense of anticipation.

"Upstairs," Jungkook said, leading you to the second floor. You followed him down a hallway lined with modern artwork and huge windows, your footsteps echoing softly on the hardwood floors.

He stopped in front of a door near the end of the hallway and turned to you. "This is your room."

You blinked, caught off guard. "My... room?"

Jungkook nodded, his expression unreadable. "I figured you'd want your own space."

Your hand tightened around the strap of your bag. For a moment, you didn't know what to say. You had fully expected him to make some smug comment about sharing a bed -or worse, insist on it. But there he was, offering you something you hadn't dared to hope for: distance.

"Thanks," you said quietly, stepping into the room. It was beautiful -spacious, with a king-sized bed, soft cream-colored walls, and a large window that overlooked the shared garden of the building. There was even an en-suite bathroom with a walk-in shower and a deep soaking tub.

You indeed wouldn't need to get out there, except to eat.

"Your things are in the closet" he started. "You didn't bring a lot of things, so I guess you'll bring the rest later?"

"No, that's it" you whispered.

Jungkook stopped for a second, shocked about the fact that you only brought a medium suitcase and the bag you were carrying to pack up all of your things. It wasn't like he was expecting a full suitcase display from you, but certainly not something so minimal.

"I'll be down the hall if you need anything," Jungkook said, lingering in the doorway. His eyes softened, his earlier bravado fading just a little. "Seriously. Anything."

For a brief second, the air between you shifted. He wasn't teasing or smug. He just looked... sincere.

You hesitated, feeling the strange urge to say something more, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you gave him a small nod. "I'll be fine."

He smiled faintly, stepping back. "Alright. Settle in. I'll see you downstairs."

As he walked away, you closed the door and leaned against it, exhaling slowly.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

But then again, with Jungkook, nothing ever stayed calm for long.

The first month of marriage was nothing short of a battlefield.

It didn't take long for every small interaction to turn into a heated argument. Jungkook always had something to say -sharp and sarcastic, ready to push your buttons at every opportunity. You were no better, meeting his smug remarks with icy glares and curt responses. It became a game, a war of words and wills, with neither of you willing to surrender.

There were good moments, but they were fleeting. It started with you finding out Jungkook filled up your closet with different clothes and accessories, adding up to the small suitcase you first brought. And it slowly evolved into a laugh shared over breakfast when Jungkook nearly burned his toast. A surprisingly comfortable evening spent watching a movie in silence, where the tension seemed to ease just a little. But those moments were always overshadowed by the endless tug-of-war that followed.

It was exhausting, that constant dance of hostility and fleeting truce.

Every day felt like a test of who could push the other further without breaking. The house, despite its size, felt stifling. His presence lingered in every room -a constant reminder that your marriage was nothing more than a cage disguised as luxury.

And today, you'd had enough.

The argument started in the kitchen that morning, over something as trivial as a set of misplaced car keys. It escalated far too quickly, voices rising, accusations flying.

"You always think you can control everything," you snapped, crossing your arms.

Jungkook leaned against the counter, his jaw tightening. "Control? I'm trying to help you, but you treat everything I say like it's some personal attack."

"Because it always is!" you threw up your hands in frustration. "You don't know how to back off, Jungkook! You just keep pushing and pushing... Fuck, you don't let me breathe!"

"Maybe because you keep running away instead of facing things!" his voice dropped, low and sharp. "You're so obsessed with shutting me out that you can't even see when someone's trying to meet you halfway."

You stared at him, chest heaving, words caught in your throat. For a second, neither of you moved. The silence felt heavier than the argument itself.

Then, without a word, you turned on your heel and stormed upstairs. You needed air, space, anything to escape that suffocating cycle.

In your room, you grabbed a coat and your purse, your hands trembling with frustration. Your eyes caught on your wedding ring, glinting in the sunlight. The sight of it only fueled the fire burning in your chest.

You slipped it off, the cool metal unfamiliar without the warmth of your skin beneath it. For a moment, you stared at the ring in your palm, your thoughts a chaotic swirl of emotions.

Then you set it on the dresser and walked out of the room, not bothering to look back.

Jungkook was still in the kitchen when you came back down, his back to you. You didn't say a word as you grabbed your keys from the counter and headed for the front door.

The sound of your footsteps must have caught his attention because he turned around, his eyes narrowing. "Where are you going?"

"Out," you said shortly, not slowing down.

"Without your ring?" his voice was calm, too calm. It sent a shiver down your spine.

You paused, hand on the door handle, refusing to turn around. "I need some time alone."

"And you think taking off your ring is the way to do that?" his footsteps echoed behind you, slow and deliberate. "Is this your idea of freedom?"

You finally turned to face him, meeting his eyes head-on. "What does it matter? It's not like this marriage is real anyway."

The words hung in the air, heavy and final.

For the first time in weeks, Jungkook didn't have a quick response. He just looked at you, his jaw clenched, his eyes dark with something you couldn't quite place -hurt, maybe, or anger, or both.

"If you walk out that door without it," he said quietly, "don't expect me to come looking for you."

The threat was clear, but it only made your resolve stronger.

"Good," you said, voice steady. "That's exactly what I want."

And with that, you opened the door and stepped outside, the cool air hitting your face like a slap.

As you walked toward your car, your heart pounded in your chest. Part of you expected him to follow, to stop you. But when you glanced back, the door was already closed.

Maybe he didn't care enough to stop you after all. Although you wouldn't think too much about it. The more he ignored you, the more freedom you'd have.

The bar was harmonized with a low hum of conversation and soft music filling the air. You had no plan when you walked in -just an overwhelming need to be anywhere but at that house. You found a spot at the bar, ordering a drink and savoring the temporary escape it promised.

The alcohol warmed your throat and dulled the frustration swirling in your chest. One drink turned into two, and for the first time in weeks, you felt like you could breathe again.

"You look like you could use some company."

You glanced up to see a man standing beside you, his smile easy and confident. His eyes lingered on you just a little too long.

"Not really," you said, turning back to your drink.

"Come on, don't be like that," he said, leaning in closer. "It's just a conversation. You shouldn't be alone in a place like this."

"I'm fine," you insisted, but he didn't seem to get the hint.

The air shifted before you could say anything else, a new presence filling the space behind you.

"She's not alone."

You froze at the familiar voice, low and commanding. Turning slightly, you found yourself face-to-face with Jungkook. His dark eyes were locked on the man, his jaw tight, his entire body radiating quiet danger.

The man raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "And who are you?"

Jungkook's lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. "Her husband."

The word hung in the air like a gunshot, silencing everything around you.

The man's eyes flicked between the two of you, suddenly less confident. "Right... well, my mistake." he backed away with a muttered apology, disappearing into the crowd.

Your heart was pounding, though you weren't sure if it was from the alcohol or the way Jungkook's eyes hadn't left you once.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, trying to sound unaffected.

"I could ask you the same thing," he said, his voice calm but laced with barely restrained frustration. "But I guess taking off your ring and disappearing without a word answers that for me."

"I needed space," you said, crossing your arms. "You don't own me, Jungkook."

His eyes darkened. "You're right. I don't. But I'm still your husband. If you disappear in the middle of the night, I'll come looking for you. And if some creep thinks he can hit on you, then I'm going to do something about it."

You rolled your eyes, the alcohol emboldening you. "So this is about your ego?"

He took a step closer, the tension crackling between you. "No. It's about the fact that I care, whether you want to believe it or not."

His words caught you off guard, leaving you momentarily speechless.

"Let's go," he said, his tone softening just a fraction. "It's late."

"I'm not going anywhere," you said stubbornly, turning back toward the bar.

Jungkook let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. "Fine. You want to be difficult? Have it your way."

Before you could react, his arm looped around your waist, and in one swift motion, he threw you over his shoulder like it was the easiest thing in the world.

"Jungkook!" you gasped, pounding your fists against his back. "Put me down!"

"Not a chance," he muttered, already weaving his way through the crowd. Heads turned, curious eyes following the scene as you squirmed in his grip. "You brought this on yourself."

"Jungkook, I swear to God..."

"You can yell all you want," he said calmly. "We're leaving."

Once outside, the cool night air hit you like a slap, but it did little to cool the heat rising in your cheeks -from anger or embarrassment, you weren't sure. Jungkook carried you all the way to his car, finally setting you down beside it.

"You're insane," you snapped, your breath coming fast as you straightened your clothes.

"Maybe," he said, stepping closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "I thought you'd have learned to love it by now."

For a moment, you stood there, caught in a standoff.

"Get in the car," he said softly, but there was no mistaking the authority in his voice.

Your pride told you to refuse, to stand your ground and make this even more difficult. But something about the intensity in his eyes made you falter.

Wordlessly, you opened the car door and got in, your pulse still racing.

Jungkook slid into the driver's seat, starting the car without another word. The ride home was silent, the air between you charged with tension. You could feel his occasional glances, the way his hands tightened around the steering wheel every time your bare finger caught the light.

The ride home was silent. He didn't speak, and neither did you. But the weight of everything unsaid filled the car, pressing down on you both.

When you pulled up in front of the building, Jungkook finally broke the silence.

"I'm not going to pretend I know what you're thinking," he said, his voice low. "But if you want to leave, really leave, just say it. I'll let you go."

You turned to look at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his eyes. It was the first time you'd seen him drop his guard like this.

But instead of answering, you opened the door and stepped out, your heart pounding in your chest.

Jungkook stayed in the car for a moment before following you inside. Neither of you said a word as you climbed the stairs, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

When you reached your room, you paused in the doorway, glancing back at him.

"Goodnight," you said softly, your voice barely audible.

For once, Jungkook didn't have a clever comeback. He just nodded, his eyes lingering on you a little longer than they should have.

"Goodnight," he echoed, his voice rough around the edges.

As you closed the door behind you, you couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between you -something neither of you was ready to admit yet.

The tension between you and Jungkook had been palpable since that night. Every word, every glance, felt like a battle -a silent war that neither of you was willing to lose. And just when you thought it couldn't get any worse, you found yourself trapped at one of his company's lavish parties, drowning in champagne and meaningless small talk.

It wasn't your kind of crowd. Polished executives and their equally polished partners swirled around you, exchanging pleasantries and hollow laughs. Being the accessory of the main character of the party wasn't your thing at all. You stood near the bar, sipping your drink, counting down the minutes until you could escape.

That's when you saw him, Jungkook, standing at the center of a group of people, commanding their attention with ease. He was dressed in a sharp black suit, his hair perfectly styled, exuding the kind of confidence that made it impossible to look away.

And then you noticed her.

She was standing beside him, too close, her hand resting lightly on his arm as she laughed at something he said. A striking woman in a sleek red dress, her eyes sparkled with something far more than professional interest.

Your grip on your glass tightened as you watched her lean in, whispering something into his ear. To your horror, Jungkook didn't pull away. Instead, he turned toward her with a slow smile, his eyes dropping deliberately to her lips before meeting hers again.

It was a calculated move -one meant for your benefit. You knew it. He knew it.

Your stomach twisted, a mix of anger and something far more dangerous bubbling in your chest. But you refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Not here. Not in front of everyone.

You turned your back to him, willing yourself to focus on the conversation happening nearby. It was meaningless chatter, something about stock prices, but you latched onto it, pretending you didn't notice the way your pulse was racing.

"Jealous, love?"

The voice was low and teasing, right behind you. You didn't need to turn to know who it was.

"Hardly," you said, taking a sip of your drink without looking at him. "Do what you want. I couldn't care less."

"Is that so?" Jungkook stepped into your line of vision, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Because it looked like you were about two seconds away from throwing your drink at her."

"More like two seconds away from smacking this glass on your head" you finally sentenced.

"That does sound like someone who's jealous"

You forced a smile, meeting his gaze head-on. "Please. If I wanted to make a scene, you'd know it."

Jungkook chuckled, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper meant only for you. "Careful, Y/n. You might give me the wrong idea: that you actually care about me and what I do."

Your pulse jumped, but you refused to let him win. "Trust me, I don't." you narrowed your eyes while looking at him "Just be careful of how you behave in front of everyone. We're still married. In private, do whatever the fuck you please".

His smile was slow, almost predatory. "Good. Because I'd hate for you to get hurt playing a game you can't win."

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, breathless and furious.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. You couldn't stop watching him: laughing, smiling, always with her by his side. Each glance felt like a deliberate push, a challenge to see how far you'd let him go.

By the time the party started winding down, you'd had enough. You grabbed your purse and made your way toward the exit, your steps quick and determined.

But before you could leave, a hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

"Running away again?" Jungkook's voice was calm, but his grip was firm.

"Let go," you said, your voice low and dangerous.

"Not until you admit it." His eyes locked onto yours, the amusement gone, replaced by something far more serious.

"Admit what?"

"That you care," he said simply.

You yanked your wrist free, your eyes burning with fury. "You're unbelievable."

"And yet, here you are," Jungkook said softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "Still standing in front of me". You didn't know when he stepped so close that your chests were pressed together and your breaths were mixing between you two "I'm only yours, love. You just need to ask me, and I'll declare to you my love without thinking twice".

For a moment, the world around you seemed to fade, the party noise a distant hum. You hated how close he was, how easily he could get under your skin.

But you refused to give him what he wanted. Not tonight.

Without another word, you turned and walked away, ignoring the way your heart was pounding in your chest.

The car ride back was suffocatingly quiet. The air between you felt like a loaded gun, ready to go off at the slightest provocation. Jungkook's hands rested on the steering wheel, his jaw clenched, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. You sat stiffly in the passenger seat, arms crossed, staring out the window in stubborn silence.

The tires crunched on the gravel as the car came to a stop in front of the building. You didn't wait for him to say anything -didn't even glance his way as you pushed the door open and strode toward the front entrance.

But the sound of his footsteps trailing behind you, steady and deliberate, made your pulse quicken.

You barely made it inside when Jungkook's voice cut through the silence.

"Care to explain what that little stunt at the party was all about?" his tone was deceptively calm, but the underlying tension was unmistakable.

You spun around, glaring at him. "Are you seriously accusing me of something after what you pulled tonight? Flirting with her right in front of me?"

Jungkook smirked, stepping closer. "You noticed."

"Of course I noticed!" you snapped, your voice rising. "You made sure I would."

He shrugged, his eyes gleaming with something dangerous. "Maybe. But you didn't have to leave the party like that, running off again like you always do. It's getting old, Y/n."

"Maybe it's because I can't stand being around you," you shot back, your voice trembling slightly with the force of your anger. "Did you think of that?"

Jungkook tilted his head, studying you. "No," he said quietly, stepping even closer until there was barely any space between you. "I think you left because it bothered you. Because for once, you didn't have control, and it drove you crazy."

Your breath hitched, but you refused to back down. "You think too highly of yourself."

"Do I?" his voice was a whisper now, low and deliberate, each word wrapping around you like a challenge. "Then why are you shaking?"

You hated him for being right. Hated how easily he could strip away every layer of defense you had built.

"I'm not..."

"You are," he interrupted, his hand brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. "And it's not because you're angry. It's because you feel something."

You opened your mouth to protest, but no words came out.

His eyes dropped to your lips for the briefest moment before locking onto yours again. "Tell me I'm wrong, and I'll back off," he said softly. "Tell me you don't feel anything, and I'll stop."

You stared at him, your heart pounding so hard it was almost painful.

But you couldn't say it.

The words wouldn't come.

Jungkook's smile was slow and triumphant. "That's what I thought."

He turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, breathless and furious, your skin still burning from his touch.

"You're insufferable," you called after him, but your voice wavered, the heat of your frustration blending with something far more dangerous.

Jungkook stopped mid-step, his back still to you. For a split second, you thought he'd ignore you, that he'd let you stew in your own whirlwind of emotions.

But then he turned, slow and deliberate, his dark eyes locking onto yours like a predator sizing up its prey. His steps were measured, each one bringing him closer, the air between you thick with electricity.

"You know what's really insufferable?" his voice was low, almost a growl. "The way you keep running. The way you keep fighting me when we both know exactly how this will end."

Your breath caught in your throat as he came to a stop just inches from you, his body radiating warmth, his presence overwhelming.

"I'm not running," you said, though it sounded more like a whisper than the firm declaration you intended.

His hand reached out, fingers brushing against your jaw, tilting your face up toward him. His touch was light, almost teasing, but it sent a jolt of heat racing through you.

The space between you disappeared in a heartbeat. His lips crashed against yours, and the world seemed to tilt on its axis. The kiss was anything but gentle -wild, desperate, and filled with every bit of frustration and desire that had built up between you.

Your hands found their way to his chest, clutching the fabric of his shirt as if it were the only thing grounding you. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you flush against him, his grip possessive and unrelenting.

It felt better than anything neither of you could've ever imagined. It wasn't just a kiss -it was a battle, a collision of everything you didn't say, everything you'd tried to ignore.

His lips moved against yours with an urgency that made your head spin, his teeth grazing your bottom lip before deepening the kiss. You gasped when he sank his tongue in your mouth, quickly meeting yours at the same time he cornered you on the wall next to the door, his hand gently cupping the back of your head before moving it back to your neck.

You hated him for making you feel this way, for always knowing how to push you to the edge and catch you before you fell.

But at that moment, you couldn't bring yourself to care.

When you finally pulled back, your breaths were ragged, his forehead resting against yours. His eyes searched yours, dark and unreadable, his chest rising and falling in time with yours.

"Say it," Jungkook whispered, his voice rough and breathless. "Say you don't feel anything."

You stayed silent, your lips still tingling from his kiss.

But the way your hands lingered on his chest, the way your body leaned into his, spoke louder than any words ever could.

He took your silence as the perfect answer, smirking to himself before he linked your lips together again. His fingers sank in your hair at the back of your head, twirling them on some locks to pull from them and throw your head to the side as he kissed you down your neck.

"You're absolutely everything I've ever fucking dreamed of" he heavily whispered on your skin. "I want to admire you, worship your body and make love to you so you'd meet a devotion you had never seen in your life. But hell... when you look at me that way..." his thumb brushed over your cheekbone "I want to ruin you so bad, show you no one will fuck you so good to make your ears beep so loud you won't be hearing your own pleas when you ask me to stop".

Your kiss grew more passionate, your breaths coming in ragged gasps, when he kissed you again. His hands began to wander, tracing the curve of your back, the swell of your hips. You could feel the hardness of his body against yours, and it sent a thrill through you, craving for something you didn't know you were desperate for. You moaned softly into his mouth, pressing yourself against him, at the same time his hands held your hips to keep your body glued to him.

Jungkook broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck again, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. You arched my back, a soft sigh escaping your lips, when his fingers brushed against the little skin that was shown off through the cleavage of your dress. It frustrated you, but it also felt so good the way your body responded to his touch without a resistance, your nipples hardening against the fabric of your bra, your entrance clenching around nothing as you kept waiting to feel him inside you.

When he looked down at you once again, his hands moved down to the zip of your dress, his thumb brushing on your skin while his other fingers slid the material down. He didn't need to ask you, he didn't need to tell you, you helped him take off your dress.

His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you, his breath hitching. You were definitely better than he could've ever imagined. No light pajamas would ever compare to the vision in front of him.

You reached for the hem of his black shirt, pulling from the buttons to reveal his toned chest. Jungkook had to hold back the growl in his throat when you ran your fingers over the muscles, feeling the heat of his skin, making him sure your fingerprints were burning every inch you were moving through.

He wasn't going to let you take control so easily though.

He lowered his head all of a sudden, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth through the lace of your bra. You gasped, your hands fisting in his hair as a way to control your own self. He teased and suckled, his other hand cupping your breast before he dragged his fingers down with the fabric, exposing the flesh, his thumb rubbing against your nipple before he pinched it with his index. You could feel the wetness pooling between your legs, your body aching for more.

Jungkook slipped the straps of your bra off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. He took his time, exploring every inch of your body with his mouth and hands. He made you squirm beneath him, he filled your head with pleas you never thought would ever be aimed at him, your body was on fire for him.

You reached for his belt, unbuckling it slowly. He lifted his hips to help you, his jeans and boxers coming off in one swift motion. You looked down at him, your eyes widening at the sight of his hard length. He was thick and long, the tip glistening with pre-cum. You licked your lips when a sudden urge to taste him overwhelmed you. Was it how sexy he actually was? Or how bad you wanted him to beg for you and finally accept you were in control? Maybe both?

You leaned down on your knees, not wasting a moment before taking him into your mouth. He groaned, his hands tangling in your hair as your tongue swirled around him. You sucked and licked, your head bobbing up and down at a tortuous speed. You could feel him getting harder, his hips thrusting gently. You took him deeper when he pushed you lower, your nose brushing against his skin to look up to him.

And hell, if that image wasn't the best sight ever...

He pulled you up with one swift motion, your lips still parted to the size of his length when he crashed his lips against yours again. Your back slammed against the door, and your head banged against it the moment he pulled your panties down and slid two fingers in you. His thumb brushed over your clit gently, slowly, which was opposite to the way his curved digits moved and rubbed against your walls.

He earned another moan from you, and his cock twitched in the air against your body once more.

"Who do you belong to, Y/n? Who owns you now?" his voice was thick and raspy as he whispered. His voice was a mix of cockiness and need to prove you always belonged to him.

The moment you tried to move your head forward to rest on his shoulder, his fingers wrapped around your throat and stuck your head against the wood to keep your eyes fixed on him.

You didn't know what to do with your arms, how to keep yourself on your feet, but you did know you had to keep your eyes fixed on him.

"My love" he almost sang when he felt the way your walls clenched around him and your clit throbbing "I've only been yours" his digits squeezed your throat tighter, unaware of how that dragged you closer to your orgasm.

Your body squirmed and folded under his grip when that hurricane hit you, yet he didn't stop. His movements were more delicate and slower, but he fingered you through your orgasm until he felt your breathing settling again.

Your lips were parted when his wet fingers slid through them, and you blindly obeyed, closing your mouth around his digits to lick every drop of his work of art. Jungkook barely gave you time to let go of them before his lips crashed against yours again, his tongue looking out for yours to taste you directly on it.

You were so addictive.

Jungkook picked you up effortlessly, humming at your legs wrapping around his waist, as he made his way to his bedroom.

When he let you down on his mattress, he couldn't help but admire the way your naked skin stood out so clearly while lying over his sheets, dying to twirl his fingers on those locks spread over his pillow. You brought in him a feral attitude he didn't know was so strong.

You looked up to him, eager for what was to come, your body ready to jump as he kneeled on the bed and crawled to you. His hands parted your legs easily, resting your calves on his thighs when he redirected his length to you.

He rubbed the head of his cock against your clit, making your moan. "You're so wet," he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire. "Will you let me fill you up? Hmm?" he looked up to you while still rubbing himself against you "Let me mark you now that you've finally accepted that you're mine".

His words, the idea, the look in his eyes... all of them influenced you to finally nod.

He slid into you slowly, his eyes locked on yours. You gasped, your body stretching to accommodate him. He felt big, bigger than you could've guessed when you took him in your mouth. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, until your hips met and you both moaned with relief.

You stayed like that for a few seconds, giving the two of you time to get used to each other before he began to move, his hips thrusting against yours. The sound of your bodies coming together filled the room, your moans and gasps echoing around you. You could feel every inch of him, the sensation overwhelming.

"You feel so good," he groaned, his forehead resting against yours. "So tight and wet." he rubbed his nose on yours. "It was really worth it to wait for you".

You clung to him, your nails digging into his back. "Harder," you whispered, your body aching for more.

He obliged, his thrusts becoming faster and deeper. The bed creaked beneath you, the sound of your bodies slapping together filling the room. You could feel your orgasm building, your body tensing in anticipation.

He reached between you, his fingers finding your clit at the same time his lips found your mouth. He rubbed it in time with his thrusts, sending you spiraling over the edge. You cried out, your body convulsing around him as waves of pleasure crashed over you.

He continued to move, his own body tensing as he chased his own release. You felt him getting harder, his thrusts becoming more erratic. With a final thrust, he groaned, his body shaking as he came deep inside you, his load hitting a deep spot.

You lay there for a moment, your bodies slick with sweat, your breaths ragged. He rolled off you, pulling you into his arms. And as much as that feeling felt foreign, you didn't push it away. Instead, you snuggled closer to him.

The weeks after that night were nothing like the stormy start of your marriage. Slowly, without even realizing it, you began to lower your defenses. Jungkook softened in his own way, his sharp-edged words losing their sting, replaced by warm glances and lingering touches.

It wasn't love -at least, that's what you told yourself- but it was something dangerously close. You found comfort in his presence, in the late-night conversations you shared after you agreed on sharing bed with him, the stolen moments of laughter, and the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the world when he looked at you.

The night he was officially named the head of the company, the entire building was alive with celebration. People congratulated him left and right, raising glasses in his honor, praising his charm, his brilliance, and his unstoppable rise to power. You stood by his side, smiling softly as he greeted his investors and thanked his board.

But despite the glamour, something felt off. Jungkook was different -detached, colder than usual, like the man you first met. He didn't seem to notice your growing unease.

Later that evening, after slipping away for a moment to get some air, you made your way down a quieter hallway in the building. As you rounded a corner, voices stopped you in your tracks.

It was Jungkook's.

"You're really settling into this husband role, huh?" the voice was familiar -Eunwoo's, you realized after a second.

His tone was light and teasing, but it was what came next that made your blood run cold.

Jungkook let out a low chuckle. "Don't get carried away. This marriage means nothing. It was a deal, plain and simple. I finally got what I wanted"

There was a pause, followed by the sound of a glass clinking.

"And the rest?" Eunwoo asked, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "Sleeping with her?"

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart hammering painfully in your chest.

"That's just part of the game," Jungkook said casually, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Keeping her close keeps everything in control. She's predictable now. She's exactly where I need her."

Your vision blurred, your mind racing to process what you'd just heard. Every moment you'd spent with him, every touch, every whispered word in the dark -it had all been a lie. A calculated move in a game you didn't even know you were playing.

The sound of their laughter echoed down the hallway, cutting into you like a blade.

You turned and walked away before they could notice you, your steps quick and unsteady. Your chest ached, a painful mix of anger and heartbreak constricting your lungs.

By the time you reached the main hall, the noise of the party felt like a distant hum, your surroundings spinning as you tried to catch your breath.

You thought you had started to know him. You thought maybe, just maybe, there was something real between you.

But you were wrong.

You were nothing more than a pawn in his game -a game you never agreed to play.

The rest of the night at the party, you avoided him like the plague, your attitude a huge contrast to how you behaved when the night had started. Whenever Jungkook tried to approach you, you found an excuse to step away -chatting with guests, refreshing your drink, even pretending to admire the floral arrangements like they were the most fascinating thing in the world.

"Y/n" his voice caught you off guard as you lingered near the exit, your hand brushing the stem of an untouched champagne flute. Jungkook's dark eyes studied you, his brow furrowed in concern. "What's going on? You've been distant all night."

"I'm just tired," you said flatly, forcing a tight smile. "It's been a long day."

His frown deepened, but he didn't press further. Not yet.

The ride home was quiet -tense in a way that made the air between you feel suffocating. Jungkook sat beside you, his eyes occasionally flicking toward you, as if waiting for you to explain what was wrong. But you kept your gaze fixed out the window, your thoughts swirling in chaos.

Once you were back home, you made a beeline for the stairs, wanting nothing more than to put distance between you as you closed yourself back in your room.

"Y/n" his voice was sharp now, demanding. You stopped halfway up the stairs, your hand gripping the banister tightly. "Talk to me. What's going on?"

You turned slowly, meeting his gaze. The man you had once started to trust, the one who had held you so tenderly just nights ago, now felt like a stranger.

"I want a divorce."

The words fell from your lips with a finality that hung heavy in the air.

Jungkook froze, his eyes widening for a split second before narrowing dangerously. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me," you said, your voice calm despite the storm raging inside you. "You finally got what you wanted. You're head of the company now. There's no need to keep up this farce anymore."

His jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "Is that what you think? That this was all just some business arrangement, and now it's over?"

"Isn't it?" you shot back, your voice rising. "You've gotten everything you wanted, Jungkook. There's no point in pretending anymore."

"You're unbelievable," he growled, stepping closer. "You want to throw everything away just like that? After everything we've been through?"

You laughed bitterly. "What exactly have we been through, Jungkook? Lies? Manipulation? This marriage was never real. It was just a means to an end for you."

His eyes darkened, his lips pressing into a thin line. "And what if it wasn't?"

You crossed your arms, refusing to let him sway you. "It doesn't matter. I'm done."

"You're not done," he said, his voice low and dangerously calm. "You don't get to decide that impulsively."

"It's not an impulse," you snapped. "This was part of our deal since the beginning. I've made up my mind."

Jungkook's eyes burned with fury, but beneath it, there was something else -something raw and unguarded. "And when exactly did you make up your mind about it, huh?" he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I think it's better for both of us," you said, ignoring the way your heart clenched at the look in his eyes.

But Jungkook wasn't having it. His hand gripped the banister beside you, his body blocking your path. "No," he said firmly. "We're not done. Not until I say we are. And you're not leaving," Jungkook said, his voice steady but barely restrained, his body now fully blocking your path. His gaze locked onto yours, fierce and unrelenting.

"Move, Jungkook," you said through gritted teeth, trying to push past him. "I'm done having this conversation."

His hand shot out, gripping your wrist -not hard, but firm enough to keep you from walking away. "No. We're going to finish this right here"

You glared at him, your pulse racing. "What's the point? You made it clear I was just a means to an end. Now that you're head of the company, what reason is there for us to stay married?"

"Because this isn't just about the company!" Jungkook snapped, his voice rising, frustration boiling over. His chest heaved with each breath, and for the first time, he looked genuinely unhinged, like he was losing control of everything he'd carefully built.

You yanked your wrist free, your eyes burning with unshed tears. "Then what is it about? What part of this marriage was real to you? Tell me!"

His silence was deafening. His jaw clenched, his eyes searching your face for something -anything. But no words came.

Your heart twisted painfully in your chest, and you laughed bitterly, shaking your head. "Exactly. You can't even answer that."

Jungkook's eyes darkened, his frustration tipping into something dangerously possessive. "You really want to know what's real?" he said, stepping closer until there was barely an inch of space between you. "You." his voice was low, his eyes burning into yours. "Every damn second with you was real"

But for some reason, those words that night felt like the most painful stab at your chest. If there was something clear to you that night, it was that Jungkook never really cared for you, but his own control over you. That idea alone made your head spin, trying to decipher if all of his words in that moment were part of the act as well.

His proximity sent a jolt of heat through you, but you refused to back down. "Words mean nothing, Jungkook. Actions do."

"Then watch me," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Before you could say another word, his lips crashed against yours in a kiss that stole your breath. It wasn't soft or sweet -it was raw and consuming, a war between his frustration and desire. His hand cupped the back of your neck, holding you in place as his lips moved against yours with an urgency that made your head spin.

You tried to fight it, to remind yourself of everything you'd just overheard, but your body betrayed you. Your hands gripped his shirt, pulling him closer even as your mind screamed at you to push him away.

His tongue swept across your bottom lip, coaxing a soft gasp from you, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. It felt like drowning, like falling too fast and too far, and you hated how easily he could unravel you.

When he finally pulled back, your hand slapped across his face, making it turn. He stayed in that position for a few seconds, until he finally moved his head back up, his eyes searching yours, dark and unreadable. "You think I don't care?" he whispered, his voice hoarse. "You're wrong."

Your heart thundered in your chest, and for a fleeting moment, you believed him. You believed every word, every touch. But the sting of his earlier betrayal still lingered, refusing to let go.

"I can't do this," you whispered, your voice breaking. "Not like this".

Not when you couldn't trust him, or know what he was saying was real or not. Not knowing when he was playing with you or showing off his feelings.

It was too much.

Jungkook's grip on you tightened, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "Yes, you can. You're not leaving."

"I don't want to be near you" you let go of his grip once again. "You disgust me. I can't even stand being near you right now. Who knows? Maybe it had always been like that and now that the reason that kept us together is gone I can be honest with the two of us. Be honest with yourself, too".

The next afternoon, sunlight streamed through the kitchen windows, casting a warm glow across the marble countertops. You sat at the kitchen island, quietly picking at your lunch, your mind still tangled in the events of the previous night. Sleep had been elusive -every word, every touch, every kiss replaying in your head on an endless loop.

You were lost in thought when the sound of the front door slamming snapped you back to reality. Heavy footsteps echoed down the hall, growing louder until Jungkook appeared in the doorway, his expression dark and unreadable.

Without a word, he reached into his coat and pulled out a stack of papers. He strode over to you and threw them onto the counter in front of you, the crisp white pages fanning out across the surface.

Your heart stopped for a second as you glanced down at them: "Divorce Agreement". Signed.

"You wanted this, right?" Jungkook said, his voice cold and biting. "There. You've got it. Congratulations, you're free."

You looked up at him, stunned into silence, your fork frozen in mid-air. His eyes were like shards of ice, his usual warmth completely gone. He looked almost... victorious, but underneath it, you could sense something else, some of his vulnerability was still obvious in his eyes.

"Jungkook, I..."

"You don't need to say anything" he interrupted, his voice dangerously calm. "You made it clear last night that this marriage means nothing to you. So, I'm giving you what you want. No more pretending. No more games."

Your chest tightened, and for a moment, you struggled to find your voice. "You think this is what I want?" you finally said, your voice trembling.

"Isn't it?" he shot back, his eyes narrowing. "You were the one who asked for the divorce. I'm just making it easy for you."

You swallowed hard, your throat burning. "You're unbelievable."

Jungkook crossed his arms, leaning against the counter with a bitter smirk. "No, what's unbelievable is that you think you can just walk in and out of my life whenever you want. You're the one who pushed me away, Y/n. I'm just giving you the freedom you begged for."

"Don't you dare act like you're some kind of victim here," you snapped, rising to your feet. "You lied to me, acting like you cared, like you were into me. You said you were after me long before all of this happened... Bullshit! You used me for your business, just like you admitted to Eunwoo. But I was dumb as fuck to believe we were more than that".

His eyes flickered with something -surprise, perhaps, or regret- but it was gone in an instant, replaced by that same infuriating calm. "So, that's what this is about," he muttered. "You overhear one conversation, twist it in your head, and suddenly I'm the villain?"

"I didn't twist anything," you said, your voice shaking. "I heard exactly what you said. That I'm just a pawn in your game. That sleeping with me was just part of your plan. Hope you enjoyed the bit of control you had while you fucked me."

Jungkook laughed, but it was a hollow, bitter sound. "You really think that's all you are to me?"

"Isn't it?" you challenged, your heart pounding so hard it hurt. "Tell me I'm wrong."

The silence that followed was deafening. His jaw clenched, his eyes searching yours for a long, agonizing moment. Then, slowly, he stepped back, his expression hardening.

"You already made up your mind," he said quietly. "So what's the point in convincing you otherwise?"

Your breath caught in your throat, tears stinging your eyes. You wanted to scream at him, to demand answers, to tear down the walls he had so carefully built around himself in less than a few days. But instead, all you could do was stand there, your heart breaking all over again.

"Fine," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "If that's how you want it."

He nodded once, his face devoid of emotion. "It's what you wanted, remember?"

Annoyed, you reached for a pen, signing up the papers next to him, slamming it against the table before getting up and walking away, leaving the papers on the counter in front of him. The sound of the front door slamming shut echoed through the house, and for the first time since the start of your marriage, you felt truly alone.

#armpirate #fanfic #ff #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkookxreader #jk #bts #wattpad #kookie #smut #jungkook smut #reader insert #one shot #jungkooksmut #jksmut #jk smut #arranged marriage au

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scoupsakakitty · 2 days ago

Text

Please Don‘t Leave Me | idol!Mingyu x Reader | angst

The sound of the rain pelting against the windows filled the silent apartment, each drop echoing the turmoil in y/n’s heart. Her hands trembled as she shoved another piece of clothing into her suitcase, her vision blurred by unshed tears.

"Don’t leave me. Please. I’m begging you y/n." Mingyu’s voice cracked as he stood behind her, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. His eyes, glossy with desperation, fixated on her every movement as if he could will her to stop.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the pain in his voice. "Mingyu, I can’t… I can’t do this anymore." Her voice cracked, the weight of her words sinking in as soon as they left her lips. "I love you, but this… this isn’t a life. It’s a secret. A painful, exhausting secret."

"Then let’s change it. Let’s fix it. Just—just don’t go." He reached out, grabbing her wrist as she tried to zip up the suitcase. His hand was warm, shaking. “I’ll talk to the company. I swear, y/n, I will. I’ll make it public. I’ll—”

“You think it’s just about that?” She pulled away, stepping back as her heart shattered at the sight of his tear-streaked face. “It’s not just about hiding, Mingyu. It’s the sasaengs, the threats, the way they call me, show up at my university. The way I can’t even breathe without feeling like I’m being watched.”

His grip on her wrist tightened, his tears falling freely now. “I know it’s hard, I know it’s unfair, but please—don’t walk away from us.”

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "You don’t understand, do you? It kills me when I have to pretend I don’t know you in public. When we’re at a restaurant and the second a fan walks in, I have to act like you’re a stranger. When we walk down the street and I can’t even hold your hand, when I have to watch you suffer alone because if I even look at you too long, someone will notice."

Her lips quivered, her entire body trembling. "I can't even go out without wearing a cap, a mask, sunglasses—always looking over my shoulder, always afraid someone will recognize me as the girl who’s been seen too close to Kim Mingyu. I can't even call you when I need you because you're always gone. Always busy. Always traveling. I understand that it’s your dream, and I never wanted to take that from you. But what about me, Mingyu? What about my life?"

Mingyu ran a hand through his damp hair, his chest heaving. "I never wanted this to hurt you. I never wanted you to feel like this."

She turned away from him, trying to steady herself. "I know that. But knowing it doesn’t make it hurt any less."

The rain outside grew stronger, wind howling through the city, but inside, the only sound was Mingyu’s broken sobs.

He fell to his knees in front of her, grabbing her hands and pressing them against his chest. His heart was racing, pounding beneath her touch. “Feel that?” His voice was hoarse, his eyes searching hers frantically. “This beats for you. It always has, and it always will.”

Her tears finally fell, hot and relentless. “Mingyu…”

“I will do anything,” he whispered, his grip tightening as if he could physically stop her from slipping away. “I’ll leave the industry if I have to. I’ll disappear from the spotlight. I just need you, y/n. I can’t—” his breath hitched, a strangled sob escaping, “I can’t be without you.”

She was crying too hard to respond. Her chest ached with every breath, her entire body screaming at her to stay, to believe his words, to hold onto him like he was holding onto her.

But the exhaustion weighed too heavy.

She reached out, cupping his face, her fingers brushing against his tear-streaked cheeks. "You’ll be okay," she whispered, though she wasn’t sure if she was saying it for him or herself.

Mingyu shook his head violently, pressing a desperate kiss against her palm. "No, I won’t. Not without you."

She inhaled shakily, forcing herself to take a step back. Then another. And another.

As she reached the door, her hand barely touching the handle, she heard him move. Fast. Within seconds, he was behind her, his presence overwhelming. With one swift motion, he pushed the door closed, his palm flat against the wood as he trapped her between him and the exit.

"Please don’t leave me," he whispered, his voice barely above a breath, shaking with emotion. "You are the only person who treats me well and brings me genuine happiness. You're breaking my heart right now. Be mean to me, treat me like shit—I don’t care, as long as you stay with me. I'll lose myself if you leave me. I love you more than anything. Please, y/n I need you."

His forehead pressed against her shoulder, his sobs racking through his body. He was holding onto her like she was the only thing keeping him afloat.

y/n swallowed the lump in her throat, her heart breaking for the both of them. Slowly, she turned to face him, her fingers ghosting over his trembling ones.

"I love you, Mingyu," she whispered, watching as a flicker of hope flashed through his devastated expression. "But I already lost myself. I'm not happy, please try to understand me. I need to find myself to keep loving you. See it as a break, not a break-up. Give me time."

His lips parted, his breath shaky. “No please, y/n…”

She cupped his cheek one last time, her thumb wiping away a tear that immediately got replaced by another. Then, with every ounce of strength she had left, she turned, opened the door, and stepped into the night.

The last thing she heard before the door fell shut behind her was a broken, shattered "I love you" and the sound of Mingyu crying, his sobs blending into the relentless storm outside.

And just like that, she was gone.

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kawhh · 3 days ago

Text

I'm aware I'm gonna lose people with this but I really do need to get the thought out of my head (I'm being delusional and this'll make it worse). It's just Jack and blood does something to me. Something magical. Also for the dark!Jack askers.

1.7k words.

Warnings!!!: if you're squeamish, please don't read this. I mean it. There's a lot of blood talk. Him covering you in it. Biting. Me going insane. Being a whore on main. Somnophilia. Jack being feral. If the idea of period sex makes you go ew, this'll make you worse. Him not caring if you don't want him marking you.

You've been worried about him since he got hit - knowing how bad some high stick injuries can be. Stressing until he was shown on the bench, barely calming down seeing all the blood still covering his face. How casual he is about it, not being phased at all, making no effort to wipe it off.

How aggressively he's playing after it, there's more aggression in him when he takes face offs. There's more push behind his skates up and down the ice. More concentration on his bloodied face.

If you're being honest, the whole thing is incredibly hot. Even though there's an underlying beat of concern. You don't like seeing him hurt.

It's late at night, so you're cuddled up on the couch in one of his shirts. Always feels like he's home with you when you're bundled up in his scent.

It's too much for him when he gets home. It's like someone's sucked all the air out of the room. His knuckles white as snow from his grip on the door frame. He doesn't dare move. Feeling like he's one step away from losing any and all sanity that he has left.

His girl.. all perfect.

His shirt on you.. how small you look in it. It's physically stunned him.

He can feel the blood on his face still. He was in too much of a rush to get home to you, he wouldn't take the time to wipe it off. He wasn't wasting time showering. Not when he knows you're all alone at home. He's not phased by it, just slowly dragging his tongue over his lip to prevent it from getting out of control.

He's no stranger to blood in his mouth. Injuries are common and he can't just stop whenever it happens.

He figures you're asleep. Who knows how long he's just been stuck there, trying to piece together the non feral part of his brain. You haven't made any noise, haven't reacted to him coming home.

He's free to just.. observe.

He's salivating over your legs. They look so pure and untouched, unmarked, oh so long looking under the shirt. Fuck.. he doesn't know what he wants first.

He could have them wrapped around his waist, have you scratching your own marks into his back as he fucks you into the wall. Wanting to see the pathetically adorable tears streak down your face until you get noise complaints.

Have you bouncing on his dick, slamming you down to force you to go at his pace, forcing you back down to meet his savage thrusts even if you try and crawl off to escape.

Wrapping them around his head, forcing them tighter against his head, wanting to suffocate against your cunt. Feeling you cry and squirm against him, trying to escape his tongue.

How pretty he'd paint you with the blood that's still leaking from his mouth. What a perfect way to make a point.. show you how much you truly belong to him. It'd stand out so vividly against your skin.. against your cute little cunt.

It's enough to take the final sanity percentage from him. He can't stay here watching you from afar now. He's gone too deep. The chances of him walking by you to shower before coming back.. non existent.

He's like a possessed animal stalking towards you, hair loose, half covering his face. His expression dark, his eyes barely visible. His pupils fully dilated.

If he doesn't get his mouth on you and in you, he thinks he might lose it. He can't even wait for you to stir. He doesn't have the restraint. Doesn't fucking want the restraint.

He's hovering over you before he can even process it, grabbing your legs as gently as he physically can in his state, making room for himself to kneel between them on the couch. Leaning over to hover over your face, staring at how innocent you look under him.

His baby must've stayed up late worrying yourself to sleep, he knows how you get.

His fingers not being able to resist digging into your shoulders, staring at the way that your body doesn't resist him. The slight bruises he leaves, painting you. The way you almost lean into his touch in your sleep, seemingly seconds away from mewling like a cat.

He can't resist pulling your shirt up. He can't get it fully off without waking you up, but he inches it towards your neck as gently as he can. Restraining you slightly as it reaches armpit height.

He's slightly startled as he hears a small sound, like a droplet. Looking down, realizing that some of the blood from his mouth is smack bang in the middle of your exposed chest now. Trailing it with his eyes as it slides down your cleavage, under your bra, leaving a skin stain as it goes.

He can't stop the gulp, processing how it feels to see him on you, in such a different way..

There's nothing more him than his blood. It's so striking against your skin. He can't explain the sudden urge he has to follow it with his tongue. To cover you in him.

He makes a fatal mistake, resting his head against your shoulder. His attempt to control himself only makes the problem worse as he lifts his head, realizing that you're now covered in his blood, your whole left shoulder looks like a murder scene.

He can't resist licking your skin. Just once. Tasting your skin combined with him. He's never felt this possessive before, never felt more sure in the fact that you're his.

Sinking his teeth gently into the skin, just enough to leave a mark. He doesn't fully know what's wrong with him. This need to just.. mark you up. To mark up every single inch of your skin. You're such a little fucking cute bunny rabbit. So adorably small against him. So weak. So fragile. So his.

He can't stop at just your shoulder. He's inching down, nipping and sucking at your skin, occasionally licking at the blood if it pools too much. Making his way down to your chest, watching the droplets drip down your tits, following the perfect curve, seeping into your bra.

He can't resist running his tongue down your cleavage. Slowly folding the cups over enough to get his hot, wet mouth around your nipple. Biting harshly, eyes flicking up to you as your squirm in your sleep. He wonders if you're dreaming about it. If you can feel his body. If you're mentally aware of how deranged he's feeling tonight.

Squirming more as he reaches your stomach. He half entertains spelling his name on your stomach but he truly doesn't have the patience. He's biting his lip more as he goes, trying to agitate it, getting frustrated that the blood's drying up. He doesn't care if it hurts, how much it stings with every single movement. He'll take care of it later. It's not important.

It does rush him slightly. He can't risk running out of it before he gets to his meal. Skipping mostly past your stomach, dragging his parted mouth down until he reaches his meal. Resting his mouth against your cute underwear. Smirking as he realizes there's adorable little teddies on them. Slowly staining them with blood as he keeps his head still, resting his mouth above your clit. The contrast of the blood and your visible innocence, he could moan.

He's just resting there, breathing you in. He can smell you. Feel the heat coming from your adorable pussy. He can't resist gently biting, mostly gripping your underwear in his teeth, letting it smack back against your clit, hearing you let out the littlest moan. He doesn't care to check if you're waking up now. It's not like he'll stop, even if you do wake up and protest. There's nothing you can do about it.

Nuzzling his nose down where your thigh meets this delicious skin, breathing you in. He can feel the dampness of your pussy smearing on his face as he drags his cheek down. Marking himself up with you.

Biting you in a harsher manner on your inner thighs, feeling how your skin melts like butter at his attack. Smearing you in the blood that's drying up faster now, licking up the arousal that's seeping from your underwear.

His girl loves this so fucking much.. as you should.

The little whimpers you let out.. he can't wait any longer. He's teased himself enough. He can feel the fucking precum soaking his shorts. Hell, it's probably even on your legs at this point. The throbbing is so hard for him to ignore, but you aren't fully claimed yet. He hasn't had his fill of your cunt.

Spinning you slightly, dragging you to the edge of the couch. Sinking to his knees in front of you.

He's ripping your underwear off with his teeth, laughing cruelly as he hears your startled gasp. You're awake now it seems. Maybe you're swearing at him. Maybe you're begging him to stop. Maybe you're moaning. He doesn't care. It's time to eat.

Swiping his tongue all the way from your cute hole to your adorable clit. There's only a faint amount of blood leaking from him now, but it's enough for him to slowly watch it mix with your arousal. Only fueling him more to eat you.

Stretching you apart with his fingers, putting weight behind it to make sure you can't move. Can't protest. Sucking every last drop from you, lapping at you like you're water in an oasis. Feeling you clench. Nipping at your clit, not wanting your body to get used to one sensation.

Thrusting his tongue into your cunt, licking against your walls, wanting to consume you from the source.

He's thrusting slowly against the couch, imagining splitting you open with his cock, mimicking the motions with his tongue. You're spasming around him, he can hear your cries getting louder.

Slowly thrusting in with his finger, adding another soon after. Stretching you open, making room for him to shove his tongue further in along with them.

Feeling your legs shake around his shoulders, restricting his breathing. Cumming in his shorts at you getting off on being claimed.

Pulling back, eyes half lidded, running his eyes over your body. Admiring all of the blood smears and marks on your body. He's never felt so in control. So satiated. So utterly dominant over you. There's no doubting that you're his.

And he hasn't even fucked you yet.

#jack hughes #jh86 #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes x you #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes fic #jack hughes fanfiction #nhl smut #jack hughes smut #jack hughes imagine #dark jack

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kunareads · 2 days ago

Text

how you talk so sweet when you're doing bad things

actor!satoru x popstar!reader

you and satoru fulfill the prophecy (he picks you up, pulls them down, turns you around).

prev / next

series masterlist / full masterlist

wc: 4.7k

satoru "filthy mouth" gojo!!! i had to stop writing this multiple times because of what he does to me. PART 3 VALENTINE'S DAY (comment for taglist)

content: fluff and SMUT! even more tension, you and satoru are once again the subjects of internet speculation, making out, 69, oral (m! and f! receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v sex, pronebone, cowgirl, he's very much in control here

18+ please i block children <3

+++

the internet does what it does best: fill in the blanks.

neither of you say anything. no statements, no denials, no acknowledgments. but speculation spreads like wildfire.

it started small. the blurry afterparty photos, the red carpet chemistry dissection, the think pieces about hollywood's most unexpected flirtation. the usual.

then you post an instagram story.

nothing special. just a close-up of a wine glass, city lights blurred in the background. no context, no caption. but the fans? they think they know.

twitter erupts.

@/satorumess: not to be crazy but i mapped out their locations based on timestamps and—

@/fulltimeshipper: this is worse than when the CIA redacted half that UFO document

@/ynupdates: y/n posting a cryptic story the same night satoru is spotted downtown… oh we are in the trenches forreal

then, satoru likes a tiktok.

a slow-motion edit of you in your red carpet and afterparty looks, set to some dramatic song, captioned this woman is dangerous, your honor.

he doesn't comment, doesn't follow the account. just leaves one single like. and the internet implodes.

@/fandomedits: nah this isn't pr this is a man down BAD

@/popcultupdates: GOJO SATORU LIKING THIRST EDITS IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT WE HAVE LOST HIM COMPLETELY

@/ynstan: this man saw a slo-mo thirst edit and said "yeah let me cosign that"

but it gets worse.

an old clip resurfaces. a red carpet from last year. you and satoru, near each other but never interacting. a moment that meant nothing—until now.

fans slow it down, zoom in, analyze every tiny detail:

satoru steps onto the carpet, and your eyes flick toward him, barely noticeable.

he glances in your direction.

there's a beat where he exhales, seems to collect himself—something no one caught before.

and suddenly, it's evidence.

@/fathergojo: why do their interactions feel like deleted scenes from a romcom

@/yninvestigator: guys. GUYS. what do you MEAN she looked at him FIRST. what do you MEAN HE TOOK A BREATH AND LOOKED AWAY.

@/stanwars: suddenly i believe in fate. suddenly i understand greek tragedies.

apparently, none of this is new.

you and satoru are just catching up.

+++

satoru isn't good at waiting.

patience isn't exactly his strong suit, but when the reward is this good? he doesn't mind.

you walk in like the last week never happened. like the chaos never even registered.

the rooftop lighting catches the silk of your dress, the shine of your jewelry, the sheen of your lips. it makes you look untouchable.

attention follows you effortlessly. heads turn, backs straighten. someone says something, you smile—polite, charming, distant. you're impossible not to watch.

and satoru watches.

he's become acquainted with the effect you have, but it hits harder tonight than it did a week ago.

because now he knows how you taste.

the glass in his hand is cool, condensation falling between his fingers. he takes a sip, tracking you, cataloging details no one else would catch.

the way your shoulders shift, subtle, as you get closer.

the flick of your gaze toward him before you fully reach him.

you stop beside him, close enough for the scent of your perfume to settle between you.

a pause before you meet his eyes.

"so… how's your week been?" you ask, tone light, a smile gracing your features.

satoru exhales a laugh, tipping his glass like a toast. "surprisingly quiet. you?"

as you talk, your fingers trace the rim of your glass. he watches. you let him.

he leans in when he speaks. you don't move away.

he notices the way the waiter lingers, the way you dismiss it with a polite, distant smile.

you notice the way his expression shifts at that, just slightly. neither of you acknowledge it.

"you're kind of a nightmare," you tease.

satoru grins, unbothered. "funny. some people call me a dream."

you laugh and roll your eyes at him. he takes his time with his next sip, letting the tension settle. you're watching him watch you.

it would be easy to let you play this game, to see how long you can act like you're not as impatient as he is. but he leans in, voice quiet, just for you.

"you gonna make me wait?" low, taunting.

you could, but you don't. instead, you lean in too, meeting him halfway. you set your glass down carefully. he mirrors you.

someone—a bartender, another guest—tries to pull you into conversation, but you don't reply.

you lean into him, your voice calm but sure.

"let's go."

+++

streetlights skim over sleek black paint as the car pulls up, satoru swinging the door open. you barely take a step before his hand finds the small of your back, fingers pressing just enough to guide you.

he grins lazily. "last chance."

you roll your eyes as you step in. "so dramatic."

he closes the door after you and circles the car, the driver pulling off.

the backseat feels too small.

you cross your legs. his knee brushes against yours, and he doesn't move away. his hand rests on his thigh, relaxed, too close to yours. deliberate.

you pretend not to notice, but he knows better.

the silence is louder than words. the city blurs past the tinted windows, neon bleeding into the dark. the hum of the engine, the distant murmur of traffic, the faint pulse of something unsaid.

satoru exhales slowly, gliding his tongue over his teeth, thinking. he pushes a button, the partition rising.

you're both quiet, but it's a silent signal: stop pretending.

the second it clicks into place, he moves. or maybe you do. it doesn't matter. he's closer now, facing you, and you're already leaning in.

a beat. a sharp inhale.

his fingers skim your thigh, higher this time.

"i was trying to be good," you say quietly.

his voice drops, tight with restraint, and your breath catches. "don't."

the second the word leaves his lips, you're on him. a hand finds the back of his neck, drawing him in.

the first kiss is slow, but not reluctant. he drags it out because he can. he tilts his head, deepening it. he hums against your lips when you press closer, pleased.

his fingers tease higher. yours twist into his hair, nails scraping just enough to make him sigh into your mouth.

the car rolls to a stop.

neither of you move. not right away.

satoru's grip tightens, like he's considering pulling you onto his lap. like he could keep you here a little longer, let the city blur beyond the tinted glass while he takes his time.

instead, he drags his lips down your jaw, then lower. he breathes you in before murmuring, "upstairs."

+++

the door clicks shut, sealing you in. no music, no distant hum of the city, just quiet, dense and charged.

neither of you break the silence.

satoru steps in first. the air seems to crackle around him here the same way it does everywhere else.

you hold his stare, challenging. he waits.

a test. a game.

then, finally, you reach for him. his grin is lazy, knowing. like he was waiting for you to break first.

this kiss is purposeful. his lips brush yours—once, then again. a silent question, just the slow press of his mouth, the barely-there slide of his hands down your waist.

your fingers slip under his shirt, nails grazing skin, just enough to pull a slow, amused breath from him.

his hands find your hips, insistent, pulling you in until there's no space left. the shift makes you gasp into his mouth, and he drinks it in, looking smug, like he expected it.

like he's been waiting for this all week.

his grip tenses, like he's about to pull you closer—but then he's gone. his heat vanishes, his lips just a ghost of pressure before they disappear completely.

he barely moves when you chase him a bit, just tilts his chin, smiling. like he knew you wouldn't let him go. like he was counting on it.

you inhale, frustration sparking low in your chest, and you move before you think. your hands find his shirt, tugging him back in—but before you can, his fingers close around your wrists, catching you with ease.

his grin is knowing, his grip firm but teasing. he tilts his head, amusement spreading across his face.

"easy, princess," he murmurs, voice low, eyes flicking to your lips. "what's the rush?"

you arch a brow, fingers flexing in his grasp. "you did haul me out of the car."

his grin widens. "not like you put up a fight."

you push.

you press into him, backing him towards the wall. he lets you. lets you kiss him deeper, hands still wrapped around your wrists but relaxing, giving you room to move.

for a second, you think you've won.

then the world tilts and your back meets the wall with a gentle thud, your head tipping back slightly as he crowds you.

he smiles at you, eyes sparkling, enjoying himself too much. his hands settle at your waist, keeping you where he wants you.

you should be annoyed. instead, you match him and smirk right back.

you like the way he handles you.

+++

his touch is maddening.

his fingertips skate over your ribs, your stomach, but never where you need them. it's intentional and exploratory, like he has all the time in the world.

and he does. his apartment is a sanctuary from the mess of the last week. no prying eyes or a disgruntled kento to interrupt here.

you shift, trying to lead him downward, but he only chuckles, barely making a sound.

"you can be patient for me, can't you?" his voice dips lower, "or are you already too far gone?"

he's mocking you, and reflex kicks in—your thighs squeeze together, and you feel the heat creep up your neck when he notices.

his fingers ghost up your inner thighs, teasing warmth into your skin before retreating. every near-touch is calculated, just enough to remind you of how easily he could give you what you want.

he watches as impatience builds in your expression, as your breath stutters when his hands graze your waist again.

your nails press into his shoulders, a silent dare. before he can smirk, before he can gloat, you roll your hips against him, slow, deliberate. the response is immediate.

his breath falters, a groan through gritted teeth. his jaw tightens like he wasn't expecting you to test him. for a split second, he stills entirely.

you smile at him. message received.

"if you wanna ruin me, do it right, satoru." a taunt disguised as a whisper, just enough to chip at his restraint.

his hold turns bruising, like he wants to leave something behind. the teasing tone vanishes, his smirk dissolving into something darker. your breath catches—not in surprise, but excitement as something kindles in your stomach.

because suddenly, it's not a game anymore.

the realization barely registers before he has you pinned, wrists above your head, mouth at your ear.

"hope you know what you're asking for," he murmurs, hips flush against yours. his voice is different now—rough, heat twisting through every syllable. you shudder at the sound, your body responding. he makes good on his words immediately.

his hands find the backs of your thighs—then, suddenly, you're weightless, gasping, clutching at his shoulders. your legs draw around his hips, heat pooling fast.

a startled breath leaves you, but he's already moving, carrying you across the room like you weigh nothing at all.

+++

he drops you onto his bed, grinning at the glare you send him when you bounce.

you don't even get the chance to scold—his hands are already on you, pulling your panties down.

his teeth graze your inner thigh before he bites down, sharp enough to make you whine, hips squirming. he exhales with a smile. "thought so." his tongue follows—slow, indulgent, a promise to ruin you.

you've barely found your breath when he shifts, broad hands pressing into your thighs, spreading you open. his gaze lifts, dark and teasing.

"comfortable?" he asks, lips skimming the inside of your knee.

you roll your eyes, about to retort—but your fingers curl into the sheets instead when his mouth finds your core, hot and devastating.

your hips shift, back arching, and he hums against you, content.

you move the moment he adjusts—quick, decisive, hands pushing into his shoulders. he lets you shift the balance, rolling onto his back, breath catching when he opens his eyes to find you above him.

your fingers work fast, tugging at his belt, yanking it free with a sharp pull. you work on the button, the zipper, pulling the fabric down just enough to free him.

he was so fucking cocky a second ago. now, he's not even breathing right, body taut under your hands. so you stroke once, then twice, then take him into your mouth.

no warning, no reluctance.

his grip tightens on your thigh, breath punching out like you knocked it loose. his head tilts back, jaw tensing, a soft "fuck—just like that, baby" escaping him.

you hum around him, pleased, tongue teasing, and he swears again under his breath. his hands fist into the sheets, trying to ground himself.

but satoru doesn't like being outmatched.

his fingers skate up your thigh, squeezing. and then his mouth is on you, tongue dragging through your folds, slow and deep.

you gasp against him, body tensing, and he grins.

"that's better," he mutters against you, lips brushing sensitive skin before his tongue circles once, twice.

the sound you make is muffled around him, and he groans in response, the vibration rolling through you both.

you try to keep a rhythm, fingers curling at the base as you sink down, but every time his tongue moves just right, every time he sucks at your clit, you falter.

he notices, and he loves it.

his hands tighten on your hips, keeping you still as he buries his face deeper, determined, fucking into you with his tongue, sending you to the edge without mercy.

you try to keep going, try to keep your lips wrapped around him, but every nerve in your body is on fire, pressure winding as you moan around him.

he grins against you. "that's it, princess. lemme hear it."

his fingers dig into your skin, tightening as he licks into you with purpose, drawing desperate sounds from your throat.

it's too much. you pull your mouth off of him, panting, lips slick and hips twitching against his face as the bliss hits all at once, unraveling you from the inside out.

"satoru, fuck," you gasp, the words nearly unintelligible through your moans. you can't do anything but let it consume you, your body seizing before the release finally drives through you.

you gasp, sharp and unsteady, his name tumbling past your lips again, voice cracking into a whine.

satoru doesn't stop until you're shaking, your legs weak, pleasure rolling over you in dizzying, tormenting waves.

only when your thighs twitch, too sensitive, does he finally pull away. his face is wet, and he's breathless. he presses one last kiss to the inside of your thigh before looking up at you, eyes dark and lazy.

"you're fucking perfect," he murmurs, voice hoarse, before flipping you onto your stomach, pressing you into the mattress.

+++

you're still coming down when he lifts your hips, tucking a pillow underneath them.

his breath is warm against your shoulder, steady and grounding. his lips trail down your spine, flirting, savoring the way you squirm. a hand settles on your hip possessively, making sure you don't slip away.

his other hand trails lower, sliding between your legs, fingers pressing in—gradually, unhurried, teasing the mess he left behind.

"fuck, baby—you're dripping for me." his voice is all rough edges and satisfaction, murmured against your ear. you shiver. his fingers slide through your folds, spreading your slick, teasing the spot he knows will make you gasp.

"been thinking about this all week," he mumbles, kissing the curve of your neck. his fingers dip lower, pushing inside, slow and deep. "bet you have, too."

you whimper, and he smirks against your skin.

"should've had you like this that night. should've fucked you right up against that wall."

his fingers move at an unbearable pace, curling, pressing into the spot that makes your knees weak. your hips jerk, but he holds you still.

"needy, huh?" his breath is burning against your ear, teasing, smug. "tell me how bad you want it, baby."

your fingers clutch the sheets, patience fraying. you should fight him— push back, make him work for it—but you're too far gone for games.

"satoru—"

his fingers stall. "mm, not good enough."

"want you," you gasp, growing desperate. "need you inside me."

he groans like you just hit him where it hurts. he pulls his hand away, leaving you empty for barely a second before the thick of him replaces them.

he slips the tip through your folds, slick and teasing, but doesn't push in. "this what you wanted?" he asks, rougher now.

"yes."

"say it again."

your breath stutters, but you give him what he wants. "yes. please," you gasp.

his hands flex against your hips, keeping you still as he pushes forward, stretching you open with an unrelenting drag that knocks the air from your lungs. it's almost too much—almost—but you want all of it. you take all of him.

he moves in slowly, and a shaky gasp escapes as he bottoms out, deep inside you, holding himself there, letting you feel it.

his breath is ragged now, his exhale hot against your skin. "fuck."

his hands slide up your sides, guiding you, holding you where he needs you.

"you feel so fucking good," he breathes, voice dipping into something ruined.

his hips roll, deep and slow, like he wants to feel everything. like he wants to make this last.

you think for a second that you won't survive at this pace.

satoru brings his body lower, pressing his chest flush against your back, all heat and tension, breath ghosting over your shoulder as he sinks in.

his arms slip under yours, palms spreading over your shoulders, drawing you into him. not just pulling you back, but owning the space between you.

hi thrusts are indulgent, stretching, coating himself in you. his breath is uneven, satisfaction humming in your ear.

you push your hips back into him, matching his rhythm.

satoru exhales a sharp breath, fingers digging in. "you trying to make me lose it?"

you don't answer, just push back harder on instinct.

his response is immediate—a sharp, precise thrust that knocks the air from your lungs, ripping a moan from your throat before you can swallow it down.

"thought so," he murmurs, lips grazing your shoulder.

his pace turns deep and steady—controlled, measured. he brings his face close to yours, wanting to watch you react, to feel you tighten around him with every movement.

but you're impatient. you shift, pressing up onto your elbows, angling your hips just enough to take him deeper.

his pace stutters. he swears under his breath, voice raw, and one arm locks around your waist. he holds you in place as he fucks into you now, hard enough to leave you trembling, helpless against the bed.

his name leaves your lips, breathless and desperate.

"fuck—it's so good," he groans, half-choked, messy. his face buries into your neck, hands gripping like he's holding on for dear life. "let me hear you, baby."

you can barely think, barely breathe. his hand slides between your legs, fingers finding that spot, pressing slow, teasing circles.

"satoru—"

he chuckles, low and smug, but there's an edge to it now, a tension in the way his hips stutter, his movements losing their precision.

and then you tighten around him, body seizing, pleasure cresting all at once—

"fuck," he bites out, breathless, grip tightening like he's trying to hold on.

and then—he pulls out.

a sharp inhale, the loss making you gasp, but before you can even form a thought—

he flips you over.

"not done with you yet," he mutters, voice rough, gaze dark as he hovers over you.

+++

and just like that, everything shifts.

his hands find you the second he pulls out—a sharp, dizzying shift as he flips you over, settling beneath you. his hands slide up your ribs, brush over your breasts, then slide back down.

his fingers splay wide on your hips, steadying you, but it's his gaze that pins you in place. "wanna see you like this," he murmurs, voice low, still rough from before.

your lips part, but the way he looks at you makes it hard to tease. instead, your nails drag down his chest, unhurried, feeling his abs tense beneath your touch.

"yeah?" you breathe.

his fingers flex, tightening just slightly. "yeah, baby. show me how bad you want it."

you wrap your fingers around him, stroking once, slow and teasing, just to watch him squirm.

his jaw clenches, but he doesn't push. he lets you take your time, lets you set the pace, struggling to hold back.

you don't make him wait long.

you line him up and sink down, savoring the stretch—the way he exhales, sharp and shaky, fingers digging in.

"fuck," he breathes, watching you, eyes dark, half-lidded, all heat.

one of your hands finds his shoulders, nails scraping lightly as you start to move. the other moves down to where you're connected, feeling just how far he spreads you open.

at first, it's slow—like you're figuring each other out all over again. a careful roll of your hips, tension simmering, teasing at something deeper.

but it doesn't last.

his grip firms, guiding you down, matching your rhythm. he thrusts up to meet you with a force that knocks the breath from your lungs.

"you feel me, princess?" he asks, pulling you down harder, deeper.

you answer him with a desperate little whimper that makes him melt.

both of your movements are messy, desperate—like you both know exactly where this is going and you need to get there.

your fingers tangle in his hair, nails scraping, tugging just slightly, and he hisses, eyes squeezing shut for a second.

his hands slide up your spine, pulling you closer, his forehead pressing to yours, breathing hard.

"you feel so fucking good," he murmurs, almost a whine. "so wet for me, so fucking perfect."

you can't even speak. your thoughts blur, pleasure winding tight, breath coming in short, uneven gasps.

he shifts beneath you, angling deeper, hitting exactly where you need him. the sudden jolt of pleasure makes your whole body tighten, makes you let out a sound you didn't mean to make—

a loud, broken moan, breathy, helpless.

his head snaps up, eyes wild, something cracking behind them—like he just lost his last thread of control.

"oh," his breath shudders, grip tightening. "oh."

and then he's gone.

he snaps his hips into yours, his hands gripping, guiding, setting a pace that's relentless, that has you gasping, nails biting into his shoulders.

your vision goes hazy, body tightening, winding up unbearably fast. you try to tell him you're close, but all that comes out is a shaky, broken "satoru—"

"oh, fuck—there it is," he breathes, voice dropping, eyes dark and triumphant. "knew you'd sound so fucking sweet falling apart for me."

his hand finds your clit, pressing just right—teeth gritting as he holds on, watching you break first.

and you shatter.

it slams into you, sharp and consuming, a shockwave rolling through your body. your breath stutters, a broken gasp stumbling free as you tighten around him, locking him in.

he feels it—the way you pulse around him, the way you tremble, how your moans dissolve into something helpless. it undoes him. his arm slides your waist, his other hand finding the back of your neck, and he pulls you closer like he needs you.

he curses as you tremble against him, holding you close, burying himself deep in you as he falls apart.

your name leaves his lips like a prayer, breathless, reverent. he groans against your skin as he finally spills into you. pleasure crashes through him, and for a moment, all he can do is feel **the heat of you, the way you throb around him, the way your body takes him like you were made for this.

for a second, you both stay still; the only sound between you is the sharp, uneven puff of breath.

your hands shake against his chest. his fingers are still locked around your waist.

he exhales a wrecked laugh, warm and lazy against your temple.

"so fucking worth the wait," he murmurs, voice low, sated. he kisses all over your face, palm smoothing down your spine. "knew you'd be perfect for me."

+++

the morning light spills through the curtains, golden and soft, warming tangled sheets and bare skin. everything is still. quiet, but not empty. satoru is warm against you, his chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths. at some point in the night, your leg found its way between his, one of his arms draped lazily over your waist.

you shift, stretching slightly, and his fingers flex at your hip, like some part of him refuses to let you go.

he murmurs something unintelligible, voice low and drowsy. then, with a slow, easy smile against your skin, "stay."

you huff a quiet laugh. "clingy."

"mmm," he hums, voice is thick with sleep. "you're warm."

he still hasn't opened his eyes. he just shifts a little, nestling deeper into you. his fingers pressing idly into your hip, like he's memorizing the shape of you beneath them.

you stay like that for a while.

you steal a button-up from his closet when you finally get up, slipping it over your shoulders before following him into the bathroom. he doesn't comment, just flicks his gaze over you, lips twitching, before rummaging through a drawer. a moment later, he presses a spare toothbrush into your palm.

"definitely took you for the clingy type."

he grins, stretching lazily against the counter. "not my fault you're so soft."

you brush your teeth side by side, bleary-eyed in the mirror. he stands just a little too close, bumping into your arm like he can't help himself.

and when you head back to bed, he follows, catching your wrist just before you climb in, guiding you back under the covers with ease.

"wait." his lips brush your shoulder. "just stay there."

"i am staying," you point out, amused.

"good," he hums, pressing one last kiss to your head before disappearing into the kitchen.

satoru returns minutes later, two mugs in hand. he sets yours on the nightstand before wordlessly disappearing back to the kitchen.

you wait until you smell breakfast, then you get up and follow the scent out to his kitchen island.

he doesn't ask if you're hungry. he just plates your food and sets it in front of you without a second thought.

you steal sips from his juice between bites, and he lets you, just watching, amused, eyes flicking toward you over the rim of his glass.

soft touches happen naturally, thoughtlessly.

his palm finds the small of your back when he moves past you, warm and steady.

your fingers brush when you both reach for the same thing.

his knuckles graze your thigh when he leans back against the counter.

none of it feels unfamiliar.

you stay longer than you expected to. he doesn't call you out on it.

the goodbye is unserious, drawn out in a way that makes it obvious neither of you is in a rush.

"try not to miss me too much," you tease, pulling on your shoes with a grin.

he smiles, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed. "oh, i will."

his tone is playful, but something about the way he says them makes you hesitate, just for a second.

and as you step out, just before it closes behind you, he calls after you.

"i'll be thinking about you, y'know."

tags (ongoing): @moonchhu @httpstoyosi @lavnder311 @harryzcherry @perkypeony @katecupcakekate @hellicify @oh-my-god-donald @jupiterbinnie @i88b0nten @satxoru @chuuminn @moncher-ire @r0ckst4rjk @flwerie @raendarkfaerie @pinksdump @blkmystery @pearlessance

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pedge-page · 3 days ago

Text

Like a Stuffed Whore

Joel Miller x StuffedAnimal!Reader x unnamed stepdaughter

Summary: You're one of a million stuffed animals manufactured every year. What happens when you meet the love of your life...and he's Joel Miller?

Ya'll I mentioned it briefly once and here it is: a plushies fic from the perspective of a PLUSHIE who's got a massive crush on Joel Miller. Please note this is NOT the same couple as Plushies!Joel x Reader series. This is a standalone with stepdad Joel x unnamed stepdaughter , and is from her stuffed animal's POV.

Warnings: you are an inanimate stuffed animal. Stepdad x step!daughter (not reader), cheating, unrequited feelings, pisskink (whoops how'd that get in there?), plushie humping, delusional and one sided, dirty talk,

18+ ONLY

- - - -

Life as a stuffed bunny had no meaning. From the moment your eyeball was stitched on in the factory, to being shipped in a box with a thousand others, put on a shelf, and sat under the bleak florescent light of a department store for weeks, you had no thoughts. No desires. You were nothing.

That is, until he found you.

Plucked from the shelf was a rougher grip than you'd experienced in a while. He inspected you briefly before tossing you into the cart. You stared up at him, his broad shape and gruff look shadowing you as he scanned your tag and took you home.

But you weren't meant to be his. At least, not yet. And not that he knew yet either.

You were a gift: newly presented to his newly acclimated step daughter. Even you knew she was too old for stuffed animals, a grown adult by now and halfway out of college. But her childhood bedroom suggested otherwise. She shrugged, ungrateful, and chucked you to the soft, plush bed of pink and frilly pillows, and the dozen of other cuddly animals that would be your new roommates.

Joel Miller was his name. And you were infatuated with him from the day he first chose you.

He comes in to his step daughter's room, slinking like a prowler at night, and uses you when she's away. All the other plushies shrink away when they hear his burly steps approach the room, but you tingle all over with excitement. You only became more and more obsessed with each love making session.

He loves you. Loves the way you feel, more fluffier and more squishy then the rest. He always presses you to his nose. Your little cotton tail practically twitches in excitement to be held so naughtily, so intimately. It gives you goosebumps when that gorgeously endowed snout of his nudges so close to your crotch as he takes a big inhale of your scent.

What he's really smelling is his step daughters leftover pussy juices from the last time she used you for her masturbation, but you can stand to ignore that part in favor of him smelling just you and your own scent...

She's always so annoying with those high pitched squeals she makes. Chanting "Daddy Daddy Daddy!" into her pillow as she grinds her naked pussy on you, your body smashed under her weight against the mattress.

You'd practically lose your plump lush shape of perfection were it not for Joel. Joel, who comes in every night, always fluffing you back up to your rounded and naturally supple state with such care and delicacy. As if he knew you deserved that precious treatment from him. Knew you deserved better than how she treated you. Knew you were better than her.

The other plushies only wanted to be played with for cuddles and tea parties. But you were different. You wanted to be played with and uses like an adult, with wet pussies and hard cocks, spanked and chained like a slutty whore plushie you were meant to be.

The best was when he'd always crush you against that massive crotch of his. Fuck, a bunny could drool at the sheer size. You'd let him grind your face and misshapen you any day if you could spend forever pressed against that fat, drooling cock.

After the months of his teasing and affair with you, your body had started to tear slightly at the seam between your nubby legs. You know he'll hopefully soon notice. Maybe he'd been prepping you, not wanting to rush your affair so soon. He'd been undoubtedly considering engaging in more intimate time with you aside from his rough ministrations and dry humping. No, he was planning to deflower you.

Don't get me wrong, you loved when he grinds on you. Unlike your abusive girlie, Joel knows how to slowly rolls his hips so that you're under him. Suffocated by his masculine shape, damn near crushed, but in the best way possible as he rocks himself into you. He groans into her pillow carnally. It makes you dizzy when you feel his cock pulse against you, knowing that you're bringing him such unrestricted pleasure.

He doesn't have to hide your relationship anymore.

Sometimes he likes looking at you, laying in her bed with you all set up on his lap as he grinds his cock into your belly. You feel so exposed, so sexy for him to see you on top. He grits his teeth, his errection trying to tear you in half before blowing his massive load all over your tummy and face.

He tries to clean you up best he can, but you like that he does a sloppy job of it. He intentionally leaves some of his sticky mess behind in hopes his daughter might catch on.

You never thought she would. You wanted it to just be you and Joel against the world. That some day he'd rescue you from this shitty room. Take you to his own bed and make sweet love for everyone to know and see that you belong to Joel Miller. The only one for him.

So it shattered your heart when the two of them drunkenly stumble into her room--together-- glued to one another in a mess of hot kisses and tangled limbs undressing. They keep giggling loudly, putting their fingers to their mouths to whisper "shhh!"

They fall on top of the bed, sending your long forgotten and neglected sisters off the side like they're just common pillows. You can't tell If it's worse that you're still here, laid perfectly to watch him almost in slow motion descent on her mound voraciously, or if it'd be better that you can watch the whole thing take place like a dream. You want it to be you that he eats out. You that he kisses like a forbidden fruit. You that he betrays his vows and cheats on his wife for.

You're about to tumble off the bed in defeat when a soft hand grasps you and places you right between them.

"Remember Bunny?" he whispers with a wolfish grin. Your girlie nods, smiling widely.

"I've been fucking her, thinking about you," she admits with a not so innocent hushed voice.

Oh they know. They both knew what they did with you separately. They both used you to get this far, this close to one another.

And here you were between it all. Used. like a toy.

He wedges your plush body between their crotches, right above where they're joined in a wet display of cock and pussy. She whines as she rolls her hips, her clit smothered by you at the same time pressing against Joel's happy trail.

He grins above, taking her hips and grinding her down on him until they're both equally humping you.

"Daddy--I'm gonna cum--" she whines desperately.

"Me too, baby. Where do you want it?"

Oh god, this is it! He's going to toss her aside, bring you close, and give you all the hot man seed your little bunny tail could possibly desire, stuff you full until you're leaking his litter of baby rabbits and--

"I gotta do it inside you."

You...you...you.

It echoes in your big ears. You could almost taste it, the way his hips drive into hers, the desperation, the need.

"I love you," she chokes into his mouth. The final ruts of their passionate fucking coming to a high.

"Fuck--I love you too," he growls, greedily sucking her tongue into his mouth. It should be you, he should be saying it to you!

You feel cold, shunned and abandoned as they release in euphoria in one another's tight embrace.

When all is said and done, they fall asleep together. You lay on your side, watching his chest rise and fall with her next to him.

You wonder if either of them will ever play with you again, now that they've found one another.

Joel stirs awake and grabs you. He's groggy, eyes barely lidded, but holding you in those veiny hands. You had missed him so much, had worried he'd never want you again. His calloused lips find your forehead. You can feel your entire body run warm as he plants his delicate kiss on you.

He's always so delicate with you before he gets rough.

Entranced by his touch, you barely notice the way he slowly positions you at his dick like so many times before. He glances at his step daughter, careful not to arouse her from rest.

Just when you'd thought he'd forgotten you, here he is, looking at you. Only you, and ensuring this moment is all between you and him.

You're giddy with inanimate excitement when he finally nudges his tip at your torn entrance below, only this time, he presses upward, splitting you open with a slight rip and plunges his length fully inside you.

If you could let out a sound, you'd scream the happiest noise you could. Finally, finally! Your insides are so filled by the man you love, his cock making way through your cotton fluff, belly denting from his sheer size. Deer god, his girth is the width of your entire body. He practically drills your abdomen, until he starts thrusting. Pushing your cotton aside to make a cavern fit for his dick inside you.

"Fuck--fuck--fuck," he whispers, brows scrunched in pleasured concentration. "That's my Bunnygirl. Gonna take it. Gonna take what I'm givin' ya, cuz ya so grateful f'me. Shit--my little stuffed whore!"

You're too blissed to notice nor care that he says that last part sideways at his sleeping step daughter.

He stops too quickly, and you feel his hips stutter with a guttural sigh.

Then... oh god, you feel it: his tip pulsing deliciously inside you, spreading warmth. Your stomach's cotton gets heavier, rapidly expanding with liquid as your belly inflates, dampening wetter and wetter, spreading until you feel 10 pounds heavier with the weight of his warm juices filling you up. You don't want any of it to seep out of your body. You want to keep it all safe and warm inside you, for him to use and relieve himself again. But you're so overwhelmed from the sheer weight and warmth and wetness of it all, that the next moment you are dropped to the ground, left face down in a puddle of his piss dripping out of you like a discarded toilet rag.

He falls alseep quickly again, wrapped around his stepdaughter. Meanwhile, you're dribbling all over the floor, leaking his love and promise everywhere. His little stuffed whore.

You always knew he wanted you too.

- - - -

taglist

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow @wintersquirrel @fluffygoffpanda @picketniffler @bbyanarchist

@bloobie1001 @kluvspedro

#joel miller fan fiction #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal smut #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #last of us fanfiction #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #tlou smut #last of us smut #last of us fic #the last of us smut #joel miller fan fic #plushies!joel

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nakylvr · 2 days ago

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RED TERROR

megan skiendiel x fem!reader

summary: megan's worst fear is losing you after it nearly happening once. she was able to save you once, but will she be able to save you again?

warnings/tags: angst, hurt no comfort, major character death, established relationship, spidey!megan, violence, language, not proofread

clock tower. running. fighting. chaos. you. hundreds of feet in the air.

there was hundreds of thoughts running through megan's mind as she tried to swing up the clock tower only to be pulled down again before she could get anywhere, her head hitting the ground with a dull thud. her mask was ripped in half, showing the right side of her face, and she swore that she had multiple ribs broken by the third time she hit the ground.

just get to yn, she kept repeating in her head that was throbbing. just save her.

getting up off the ground, megan quickly shoots a web to the top of the tower, and goes up before she can get hit again. when she lands at the top, she's breathing heavily, cowered over as she tries to see past the darkness, only really being able to see out of one eye.

"yn," she lets out a sigh of relief when she sees you. "don-don't move, okay? let me go to you." she says softly, slowly taking a few steps forward. "you're gonna be fine, i promise." she doesn't know if she's reassuring you or herself at that point, glancing down and seeing your feet near the edge.

the clock ticks closer and closer to midnight, and both of you know megan doesn't have much time left before you end up falling once the clock hits twelve. and then, the bell dings. once. twice. and you're falling.

"shit!" megan exclaims, instinctively jumping down after you.

there's at least fifteen feet between you two that only keeps growing the further you fall, and megan shoots a web out to try and reach you and grab you. your eyes are wide with fear staring up at you, tears falling from your eyes. she peers down at you with her one good eye she can see out of, the web going further and further out but not reaching you quite just yet.

get to her. get to her. get to her. make it, please make it. please please please.

and then,

crack!

just as the web reaches you and grabs ahold of you, your body jerks and your neck makes a sickening noise. megan drops down the second after, her hands grabbing you and immediately her eyes go wide.

"shit, shit, shit, yn, can you hear me? yn? yn?" she starts panicking seeing your eyes stuck open, your head falling limp in her arms. "no, no, no, no." she starts shaking you, her hand going up to your face that was already losing its warmth. "no, no, no, no. fuck, please no. please." she pulls her mask off her face, tossing it aside and looking down at you.

"baby, please wake up, please." tears start flowing before she can stop them, holding your body close to her even though you can't feel it. "please, please don't leave me. i-i can't do this without you. please. yn, please wake up." she rocks back and forth with you still in her arms, crying uncontrollably while mumbling to herself.

sirens are heard from afar, but megan can't find it in her to detach herself from you. her arms secured around you like you would wake up.

"i'm so sorry," she sobs. "i'm so sorry, baby i-" she can't get any other words out, her crying making it difficult for her to even breathe with the wounds she had. "wh-what am i supposed to do now? i don't k-know what to do, yn. i n-need you. please wake up, please."

when the sirens get louder, megan's cries get quieter, now just incoherent mumbling as she continues to rock back and forth. she can hear yelling from outside, and she doesn't know what to do. does she leave? does she stay and possibly get arrested? does she bring your lifeless body along with her?

when she looks down at you again, she sees the necklace around your neck, her fingers carefully taking it off and tucking it away. "i'm so sorry, baby. i love you so much, so so much. i always will, i swear." she presses a quick kiss to your forehead before gently laying you down. she puts her mask back on and runs off the moment the police enter.

swinging through the city, tears still fell from megan's eye through the ripped mask as she tried to keep her breathing regular. she swung up onto the top of a high-rise building, sitting down on the edge and taking her mask off. almost as if on command, thunder booms above her, and it starts raining a few moments later. she would make a sarcastic comment if it were any other time, but all she did was sit there in silence as the rain poured down on her.

pulling the necklace out, megan stares at it as it dangles between her fingers, the rain falling on it coating the blood of her fingertips off of it. she clutches it in her hand tightly, holding it against her chest with tears building in her eyes again.

megan sat there for a few hours, crying her eyes out before eventually returning home. she didn't sleep that night, or for the next few nights. every time she closed her eyes all she could see was your lifeless eyes staring back at her, the tears that were falling down your face as you got closer and closer to the ground until you hit it.

she stopped wearing the suit from that point on. she put it in a box and shoved it in her closet to leave for months. she ignored all the crime that happened in the city, turning off all the police radio scanners she had. she didn't leave the house except for the day of your funeral. she could only stay for a bit before she left, getting overwhelmed and starting to break down by the time your parents started talking about you, going to her car to sit and cry for another hour.

she thought you were still there at times. she would text you funny videos forgetting you would never respond, that they would always be left unread. she would find herself going to your house when she was injured badly only to find your bedroom vacant without you, but all your decor was still up as if you would come back. she would reach for you in the mornings when she would wake up, only to touch sheets and blankets, never another body. she would see things that would make her think of you and buy it, realizing that she couldn't give it to you, that she wouldn't be able to buy any gift for you again.

sophia kept coming by to make sure megan was okay, but the ginger would say the same thing every time. "i'm existing." but she never truly felt like she was living the day you fell from her grasp. she tried to go out, meet new people, make friends when lara would drag her out of her house, but it never went anywhere. she could never stop thinking about you. every time a girl was interested in her, she backed away and would stop talking to her, still never getting over you. she couldn't. she had her whole life planned out, with you. not anyone else. she couldn't fathom the thought of being with anyone other than you. she didn't want to be with anyone other than you.

megan could never get over you. no matter how hard she tried. if she tried at all, that is. she was convinced it was going to be you two for life. with all the other different dimensions she had been in, and you weren't there — she was certain she would have you in this one. but she was wrong. and that's what ruined everything in the end.

#katseye thoughts 💭#katseye x reader #katseye imagines #marvel!kats thoughts 💭#megan skiendiel thoughts 💭#megan skiendiel x reader #megan x reader #megan inagines

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animasola86 · 2 days ago

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LOST & FOUND 🫂 CH4

After agreeing to become their little girl, you are woken up by Mommy, who has special plans to ease you into your first day of your new life.

soft!Daddy!dom x Mommy!domme x little girl!reader

WARNINGS: F!Reader insert. Explicit sexual content. Mommy/Daddy kink. Dd/Md/lg dynamics. Pet names. Dom/sub undertones. Shared shower. Nudity. Vaginal fingering/assisted masturbation. “Self” care/makeover/waxing. Angst/humiliation. Hurt/comfort. (More notes under the cut!)

WORDS: 8k 🔷️ READ ON AO3

A/N: This chapter is a direct continuation of Chapter 2 and keeps focusing on Reader's new life as the Little Girl of Mommy and Daddy. All following chapters (unless stated otherwise) will follow the past-timeline and show how Reader ended up like she did in chapters 1 and 3. (For more info on Reader, check out the Notes in Chapter 1.) ❗ Please read THIS if you're confused about the tags I listed this under!

Chapter 3 🔷️ Chapter 4 🔷️ Chapter 5

Several months earlier

You woke up after that first night, completely knocked out and overwhelmed, to someone gently shaking you, lips pressing to your pillow-wrinkled cheek, a soft voice cooing for you to wake up. Mommy was there, and while your first instinct was to groan and turn back around and ask for five more minutes, not quite realizing where you were, she basically dragged you out of bed and into the bathroom.

While she certainly meant well, you felt very uncomfortable as she helped you out of the clothes you slept in and into the shower. You wanted to protest, against the fact that you were naked in front of a stranger, and also, didn't you just shower last night? With your mind still hazy with sleep, you wondered if rich people did it like this, showering every night and every morning, possibly several times a day? They definitely didn't have to worry about too much water consumption, apparently. But then the strangest thing happened: the woman you were supposed to call Mommy stripped down as well and stepped in after you, and your muddled mind was silenced immediately.

You were so surprised and more than taken aback by it that you just stood there, with your back to her, not even daring to take another look at her beautiful body. She was a bit taller than you and had all the right curves in all the right places, perfect skin, not a single hair anywhere on her body, except for her long black locks that she wore in a messy bun atop her head, and when she stepped behind you, her hands found your shoulders before she wrapped your unruly tresses around her fingers and brought them up in the same fashion, then slipped a hair tie over the mess to keep it in place.

Then she leaned past you (her perfect breasts pressing against your shoulder blades) and turned the shower on, and while you expected to be hit by either ice cold or scorching hot water, the temperature was perfect right away. That alone was a luxury you'd never experienced before. She angled the shower head to spray down below your chin to keep your head and hair dry.

You were still just standing there, baffled and embarrassed to be this close to such a gorgeous woman (though your main concern was how you felt like a literal child whose Mommy had to help them showering, but you figured that was part of her wanting to take care of you). As you woke up more and more, you became more and more aware and self-conscious of your neglected body. For months, self-care hadn't been an option for you, too much hassle, and for what? But now you wished you could have prepared yourself for this experience in some way, shaved maybe? Made yourself more presentable?

The question remained: what did this woman see in you to treat you like this?

Your anxiety spiked when you felt her soap-covered hands on your body, first on your arms, then she went straight to your breasts, cupping them, squeezing them lightly, rubbing the suds into your skin. You froze, holding your breath, clenching your hands into fists. It was such an intimate gesture, you weren't ready for it. A little sob escaped you, and you felt her pausing, before she leaned closer again, pressing her body against your backside.

“Are you okay, honey?” she asked directly into your ear, her velvety voice causing you to shiver deeply. “You gotta tell me if you don't like what I do, okay? This is for you. If you don't want it, I'll stop.”

You took a shuddering breath. “N-no,” you urged out. “I... I mean... it's okay... it's just... all so new...”

Her laugh echoed through the steam-filled room. “Never been touched by a woman before, sweet girl?”

“N-never had somebody... take care of me like this...” you whispered breathlessly, the thick air and her closeness making you dizzy.

You felt her lips on your cheek, the touch lingering as she spoke softly: “You better get used to this. We have so much love and care to give, you have no idea.”

It could have sounded like a threat, but you closed your eyes and nodded, leaning against her when she continued the gentle groping of your boobs. She chuckled again, bringing her lips down to your shoulder. Her hands moved lower eventually, rubbing over your stomach and down your hips, and you still couldn't move, you just endured (or silently enjoyed it?), but when you could feel her stepping around you, one of her hands slipping down your front while the other curved around your rear, you flinched badly.

Your feet squeaked on the tiled floor, and you almost lost your footing, but instead of getting away from her, she grabbed you a little harder, her hands on your waist, pulling you back, gently but firmly. Your chest was rising and falling faster, your heart nearly exploding behind your ribs. She shushed you, kissing along your neck as she returned her hands where she initially wanted to bring them.

“It's okay, sweetheart, let Mommy see, yes?” she cooed into your ear, and you stiffened, inhaling deeply and holding your breath as her hand brushed down your tense belly and directly between your legs.

You felt so embarrassed. You were not as spotless as she was, some would say natural, and while you let everything grow because you couldn't care about it anymore in the months of your slow downfall, you wished you could go back to not caring now. But you cared, you didn't want this woman to touch you in places nobody had touched in a very long time, yourself included, at least not this intimately.

You tried to squirm away, but she grabbed your ass in response, holding you in place. You let out a quiet yelp. “It's alright,” she said calmly, her lips back at your ear, the touch scorching hot. “I will not hurt you. I will not judge you. You are a beautiful girl, sweetheart, and nothing will ever hide that.” As she spoke, she started rubbing her fingers along your slit, a gentle touch, just a caress, every stroke of her hand accentuated by more soothing words. “You deserve to be loved, my sweet thing. Loved and touched and pampered. Do not be shy, do not be embarrassed. There's no need. You are beautiful. So beautiful...”

Her voice lulled you, made you relax into her ministrations, and as she finished her soothing pep talk, her fingers dipped between your labia, a little gasp escaped you, your lips parting, and before you knew it, she had caught it by pressing her mouth to yours, kissing you softly as she rubbed her fingertip slowly up and down until it prodded your entrance, and while her tongue pushed into your mouth, her digit pushed into your clenching cunt.

Your moan was swallowed by her own little inhale. Her other hand slid up your back until her palm was pressed to your neck, holding you steady as she continued to kiss and finger you, and all you could do was melt into her caresses, meeting her tongue with your own, gliding your lips against hers, even grinding your hips into her hand. Your head was spinning, breathless and overwhelmed as you were, and the more she touched you, the less vulnerable you felt.

The way she moved her fingers (she seemed to have added another one) inside you, slow and careful, pressing as deep as her knuckles allowed, fingernails scraping gently along your tight walls, it all felt very good very quickly. Your eyes fluttered shut, your breaths rasping out of you, new air barely able to reach your lungs as she kept plunging her tongue into your mouth. You felt like floating, surrounded by warm water and even warmer steam, pressed against a soft body, her hand closing around your nape, and all those touches sent more tingles down your spine, shivers and shudders, that all gathered low in your stomach, and lower, making your clit throb.

And it was when she suddenly pressed her thumb against that sensitive bundle of nerves that you yelped against her mouth, eyes flying open, a strange assortment of white and black spots dancing at the edge of your vision. Your legs trembled badly the more she rubbed at your clit, her fingers still plunging in and out, a little curl to them now, hitting different spots deep inside you. You stared at her, or tried to, she looked blurry, and you tried to blink your eyes back into focus, but instead a loud moan was ripped from your throat when she moved her fingers and her thumb in a clawing motion, pressing directly against your clit and g-spot.

You shook, your limbs twitching, and your hands found her waist for support as you gasped for air like a fish out of water, your eyes rolling back, your head reeling, and for a moment you felt as if you'd left your own body, floating away, without a care in the world...

You came back when she pulled her fingers out and kept caressing your sensitive labia, and every brush against your hood gave you another deep shudder. You clung to her, your forehead resting on her shoulder, your breaths labored and raw, your heart thundering in your chest. She rubbed your back with her free hand, soothing you with words you couldn't understand. The first that did make it through the cotton in your head, dug themselves deep into your soul:

“Good girl.”

A smile appeared on your trembling lips, the praise like an additional caress down your spine. You found yourself hugging the woman you barely knew and somehow trusted a lot more now, your arms snaking around her waist as you pressed yourself into her. She embraced you gently, holding you as the water sprayed against your shoulder. You felt her lips on your forehead, her exhale warm against your skin.

The rest of the shower was a blur. She kept washing you, rubbing her hands over your warm skin, and she even nudged you to touch her as well, which was yet another overwhelming experience as you weighed her big breasts in your small hands.

She continued to be gentle and patient with you, giving you time when you needed it, but also pushed you a little to get you out of your old habits. As embarrassing as it should have been, it was also refreshing and comforting to know that even if you might fall back into your dark hole whenever new and old doubts would resurface, Mommy was there to pull you back out.

By the time you were out of the shower and wrapped in a large, fluffy towel, a knock sounded on the door. You froze, but the other woman just huffed a sigh and walked to open it, still as naked as before, no shame whatsoever. Your eyes widened when you saw the tall man appearing in the door frame, his eyes first grazing the woman before they wandered to you. He smiled softly.

“Good morning,” Daddy said, his smile widening when he saw you blushing deeply, pulling the towel tighter around your body. He looked back at Mommy then, raising an eyebrow. “You beat me to it, huh?” he mused.

The woman laughed, nudging his bearded chin with her index finger. “Gotta be faster, old man,” she teased with a soft laugh.

You watched the two silently, frozen to the spot, acutely aware of just wearing a towel, your exposed skin warming up badly as your eyes wandered from Mommy's naked backside to Daddy's tall frame behind her. He wasn't wearing a suit today, but a tight shirt and formfitting sweatpants, and his hair was tousled, cheeks a little flushed. Had he been running? Probably, with a body like that –

“How are you feeling today, darling?” he addressed you, ripping you from your thoughts. Your face heated up even more.

“Really good,” you whispered shyly, chewing on your bottom lip as you met his gaze.

“I'm glad,” he replied, tilting his head slightly, his eyes crinkling.

“And she'll feel even better today. I'm taking her to the salon,” Mommy interrupted the moment by pressing a hand to Daddy's chest. “You can have her tomorrow.”

He sighed, bringing his gaze back to the woman in front of him. “Don't do anything she doesn't want to do, okay?” he told her quietly. “Don't scare her away on her first day...”

She laughed, turning back to you. Your heart skipped a beat. “Don't worry, we already established our bond, didn't we, honey?”

You lowered your eyes, your blush spreading all over your shoulders. “Yes, Mommy,” you whispered. It still felt a little weird to call her that, but seeing her reaction to it made up for the awkwardness. She mewled softly and turned around fully, extending her arms until she could pull you into a tight hug.

“My sweet girl,” she cooed, kissing your hairline. You leaned against her warm body, meeting Daddy's curious gaze over her shoulder.

“You'll be okay,” he told you with a gentle smile. “But remember: you can say no, we will not force you to do anything you don't feel comfortable with. Won't we?” he added pointedly, making Mommy turn her head to him. She gave him a smirk and a wink, and he sighed.

She let go of you then, taking a step back to him. “Go take your own shower now,” she told him, poking his chest. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her a little closer, eyeing her darkly.

“Don't tell me what to do,” he whispered.

“Make me,” she replied with a chuckle.

You watched them with growing curiosity, still wondering what kind of relationship these two actually had. For a moment they just stared at each other, before Mommy leaned up on her toes and pressed her full lips against his.

“Let us have our Girls Day, okay, papito?”

“Fine,” he said with an exhale, his other hand moving along her bare shoulders up to her nape before he grabbed the messy bun on top of her head and pulled her back a little. “But I mean it: I still want to recognize her later.”

Her turn to sigh. “Of course, don't worry,” she replied, putting her hand on his cheek, giving it a soft pat. “Unless she wants a complete makeover. This is about her,” she added, turning her head back to you. “Isn't it, sweet thing?”

You blushed when the attention was back on you.

“We'll do whatever makes you happy, okay, honey?”

“Okay,” you mouthed a little breathlessly. Your eyes wandered between the two adults (the longer you stood watching them, the smaller and younger you felt, no matter the fact that you were technically an adult yourself). You weren't used to all this attention, but it grew on you. It made you feel warm and seen (even if you'd prefer to wear more clothes while being looked at).

Daddy let go of Mommy then, taking a half-step into the bathroom. “Can I get a hug before I leave you in Mommy's care, sweetheart?” he asked quietly, extending a hand towards you.

Your body's immediate reaction was a sudden jerk, a clear indication that you wanted to sink into his strong arms and never emerge from them again, but your mind was still a little timid, and then there was Mommy, stepping between you and the tall man.

“Get away, you're all gross and sweaty. I just cleaned her!” she said, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

He lowered his hand slowly, his eyes still on you. There was a darkness within them, a strange look that made your stomach twist in a weird way, warm and tense, like a throb, a clench, an itch. “I... I don't mind,” you heard yourself stammering. Before you knew it, you took a step forward, your bare feet padding on the tiles, and when his smile widened, you extended a hand to put it onto his big palm. At the same time as he pulled you closer, you heard Mommy sighing. She stepped away, and you hoped she wouldn't be too mad, but you couldn't resist him – and the urge growing inside your own body.

He wrapped his big arms around your shoulders, and you found yourself pressed to his chest. It was warm, his scent filling your nostrils, filling your head, a mixture of body wash and sweat, a masculine smell that made you dizzy, but in a good way. You carefully snaked your arms around his waist and held onto him, closing your eyes for a moment.

“My sweet girl,” he whispered, pressing his lips to the top of your head. “Have a good time today, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy,” you murmured into him.

He squeezed you a little more at that, his inhale loud and almost surprised. As he embraced you, you suddenly felt another presence behind you. Mommy's arms joined yours in encircling the tall man as she pressed herself into you. His arms loosened, leaving you, pulling her closer against your back. You gasped a little as they hugged you tightly, and you would have never expected to feel this comfortable in a Mommy-and-Daddy-sandwich.

It was certainly strange to go from nobody caring about you, to having these two people taking such an interest in you. And they weren't lying. They had a lot of love and care to give, you could feel it in the way they held you and spoke to you. And you'd only met them yesterday! How was this possible?

But you didn't want to question it, you just wanted to melt into their warmth and strength, enjoy the moment, neither look back nor ahead. It felt good. Good enough to bring tears into your eyes. A little sob escaped you, and you buried your face firmer into Daddy's chest. Mommy let go first, and before you knew it, Daddy's hands were on your shoulders, leaning you back a little.

Looking up, you realized your vision was blurry. As you tried to blink your eyes into focus, you felt his fingers wiping at your wet cheeks, a concerned look on his handsome face.

“I... I'm fine,” you murmured quickly, sniffling quietly. “These are... happy tears...”

His relieved exhale hit your forehead before he leaned in and pressed his lips to the corner of your mouth. Meeting his gaze, you couldn't help it, you turned your head a little bit and used his closeness to brush your lips fully against his. His hands held you still for a moment, the kiss, if you could call it that, a lingering press, before he leaned back with a deep sigh.

“Sorry, darling, today's Mommy's day,” he whispered, giving you a wink. “We can expand on this tomorrow, okay?” As his fingers curled around your ear, his thumb rubbed over your bottom lip. “Trust me, I can't wait...”

You gave him a shy smile, your face properly burning now. He eventually let go of you fully and stepped back. Mommy put her hands on your shoulders. “See you later, Daddy,” she cooed.

“Bye, ladies, have fun,” he said with a little wave, his eyes fixed on you.

“Bye, Daddy,” you whispered, watching how his eyes sparkled when he winked at you, before he turned around and left the room.

You were still buzzing, basically floating, so when Mommy told you to wash your face and brush your teeth and use the toilet, you did as she told you, ignoring how degrading this should have felt, being told to do the most basic things, things a person your age should be able to do on her own. But it also felt good, having someone push you to do so, and she didn't sound condescending or mocking, but caring and sweet now that you were alone again.

Once you were all ready for the day, you stood, still in your towel, in the middle of the room (your room) while she pulled out various clothes, watching you as she did so, assessing your build and size, and in the end she chose a pair of pink panties for you and a matching bra that was a little loose but she assured you to buy better fitting things for you soon. You wondered then who all those clothes belonged to, they looked too girly to have been hers, and the wide array of different sizes also made you curious.

She looked at you as she held a knee-length pink dress to your chest. “We bought these for our old subs,” she said nonchalantly as if reading your mind. “I told you we've been looking for the right girl for a while. And we tried, tested a few, but none of them would really fit our needs, you know? You, however,” she added, putting the dress down to place her hands on your shoulders as she looked down at you with a soft smile, “you are what we're looking for. I can already tell. You belong here, and soon we'll fill this closet with your own things, and only yours, okay?”

You stared at her, your throat tight. Knowing that other girls had spent their time in this room, with these people, with your Mommy and Daddy, made you feel strangely small and insignificant. Like one of many. And you wondered when they would realize that you might not fit their needs either so they could move to the next girl. But you still hoped beyond hope that what she said was true. “So... so you won't... send me away again?”

“Oh, sweet thing, of course not, unless you want to leave, but I really hope you'll stay with us. We can give you anything you need, and you'd make us so happy too!” She pulled you against her bare chest (she still hadn't bothered putting on any clothes and you really envied her confidence), her arms tight around your shoulders as you gingerly hugged her back, feeling the soft slope of her spine under your clammy palms.

She kissed your forehead and let go again, smiling down at you. You felt the need to reassure her. “I'll... stay, I want to stay,” you whispered, biting your lip as a little smile played around the corner of your mouth.

Her hands found your face. “I'm glad,” she breathed, her lips brushing against yours, and then she really kissed you, a hard press, a confident lick against the seam of your mouth before you indulged her and kissed her back, timidly moving your tongue and lips against hers. “You taste so sweet,” she muttered, sighing deeply as she moved her lips down your jaw to your neck, giving your pulse a little suck that made you flinch a little. “I can't wait to taste more of you...”

Her words sent another deep shudder down your spine that ultimately gathered right in your throbbing clit. You had no idea what it was about this woman, about this whole situation, but anything she did to you, any touch, any word, made you feel like you never felt before. It was all warm and cozy, but it could turn hot and overwhelming in the blink of an eye. You slipped from feeling comfortable to completely aroused, back and forth, and it should be weird, but it wasn't. It felt right.

Mommy gave you another press of her lips to your neck before she leaned away, letting go of you to pick up the pink dress. “Alright, let's get ready for our Girls Day, shall we?” she said happily, shoving the dress into your hands. “Get dressed, I'll do the same, and I'll meet you here soon, okay?”

“Yes, Mommy,” you whispered, enduring/savoring another tight hug and a squeal from her, before she did what she told you and left the room, as naked as she was, her hips swaying as she went.

Later, you sat next to her in the back of the car again. She had put on a dark blue blouse and wide-legged pants, the pointy tips of her high heels poking out from the wide hem as she crossed her legs and leaned back into her seat, her hand on your thigh as she smiled at you. You smiled back shyly, feeling rather small next to her, in your soft pink dress, your magenta tights and those white little sneakers she gave you.

You had never cared much about being girly or wearing bright colors before, but it felt okay when somebody else told you to do so. The way she looked at you, so proud and happy, made it all worth it, even if you didn't quite feel like yourself anymore. But that was the point of this, wasn't it? To get you out of your old habits and show you something new, a new side of yourself. It could only get better from here, right?

Well.

Before it got better, it got a lot worse when you found yourself in a small room with a woman telling you to strip for her. Mommy was there too, but the stranger made you feel very uncomfortable. You were in one of those beauty salons you'd never seen the inside of. The woman seemed nice enough, or rather passive more likely, because it was her job to groom and take care of other people and she probably saw many different kinds of women each day, but you couldn't shake the feeling of a deep-rooted shame as you pulled your dress over your head, exposing yourself, feeling vulnerable and embarrassed and very insecure to show this stranger your neglected body.

Mommy helped you, her eager hands pulling down your tights (and panties) in one swift move, and you gasped and squirmed, trying to cover yourself, but she shushed you quietly. “It's okay, no need to be shy. I'm right here, you can do this.” You inhaled sharply, trying to focus on her as you stepped out of your tights, watching her put your clothes onto a nearby chair before she snaked her hands around your torso and unclasped your bra, adding it to the pile.

“Sit down please,” the other woman told you. When you looked at her, you noticed her almost bored looking gaze, as if she indeed did this several times a day. Nevertheless, you didn't, never had done this before, and when you scooted up on the reclined chair covered in a soft towel, you felt close to tears.

Clamping your thighs together, you put your hands on your breasts (wondering why you had to expose them in the first place when this was about trimming your body hair), when you felt Mommy's hands on yours as she leaned over you from behind. “Relax, baby girl,” she told you, turning her head to kiss your cheek. “Just relax. Lean back, close your eyes, and let the nice lady do her job, okay?”

And you tried. She kept her hands on your chest to ground you, giving your boobs gentle squeezes whenever you flinched or winced or squirmed as the nice lady began working on you. She started on your legs, and while you thought she might shave them as you would have done, she waxed them, and it felt strange when she applied the warm wax, but even worse when she suddenly ripped the sheets she pressed down onto your leg away again, causing you to squeak and almost kick her in the face.

Mommy kept close to you, hugging you, soothing you, her fingers drawing distracting circles around your nipples. You turned your head to her, your face flushed, watching her soft smile, the twinkle in her eyes, and somehow you made it through the torture of having your legs waxed. But then you felt a nudge against your thigh.

Looking back to the woman, you noticed her adding something to the chair you were resting on. Some sort of stirrups, and you realized you'd have to spread your legs and put them on there, because she –

– was about to wax your sex next. Oh dear God.

A whimper escaped you, your thighs pressing even tighter together, and you looked back at Mommy, pleading with her. She shook her head and caressed your cheek. “It's okay, honey, it won't hurt for long.” But it will hurt, you wanted to tell her, your eyes widening. “You're a big girl, aren't you? You can take it.”

And somehow her well-meant words made you feel even worse. Shame flooded your entire body, your blush spreading down to your chest. Your legs were still burning and irritated, the skin tight, and to imagine the same procedure between your thighs? But being treated like a little girl in front of this stranger gave you a weird boost of confidence, reverse-psychology-style. Because you were not a little girl, you were a grown ass woman, you should be able to deal with this! Clenching your jaw, you inhaled deeply, looking up at the ceiling as you lifted your legs and put them into the contraptions of the chair.

You forced yourself to ignore the cold breeze against your pussy lips, the way the woman stepped closer, the way her gloved fingers applied the wax over the coarse hairs of your mound. Your own hands clamped down on the edge of the seat, your breaths labored as you waited for the inevitable pain to shoot through your body. But when it came, you still jerked, a scream escaping your tight throat that was quickly silenced as you felt Mommy's hands on your face, making you look at her.

You felt tears burning in your eyes, the throbbing pain between your legs only part of the sudden waterworks. Her gaze was stern and hard, and you couldn't look away. You kept chewing on your bottom lip, wondering if you'd disappointed her by being so squeamish about this. If she'd change her mind about you being the perfect one. As the first tear rolled down your cheek, her gaze softened, her thumb tracing the path it took to your jaw.

She leaned in then, pressing her lips against your forehead, while another jolt of pain ripped through you as more of your hair was pulled out. You flinched, but you also forced yourself not to scream again. You did bite your tongue and tasted blood, but you didn't want to show her how much you suffered. She had brought you here, probably spent quite a sum to give you this treatment (and you were in dire need of it too, even if you couldn't really handle the pain and shame it brought with it), and you knew you should be grateful. And you were, you would be, afterwards, when the pain was gone and your skin smooth again, but right now all you could do was cry quietly and endure.

You felt dizzy by the end of it, barely able to move your limbs. So you let the woman arrange you how she needed you, noticing that Mommy had shifted behind the chair, looking down at you, holding your hands above your head as your arms were being lifted, more wax came down and more pain throbbed through you, your armpits burning like they'd never done before. Through bleary eyes you watched her, squeezing her hands back, feeling lightheaded and disoriented.

And then it was over, finally. Someone pulled you off the chair and onto trembling legs, Mommy helped you get dressed again. Your skin was warm and tight, but as smooth as it had ever been. The shame of the procedure was just a little flame in the back of your mind now, somehow you felt too numb to care anymore.

Once you were in your tights and dress again, you were guided into another room, onto another chair, and while Mommy sat down on a stool next to you, grabbing your hand and holding it tightly, you felt a new pair of hands on your head, fingers loosening the messy bun on top before slipping through the wild strands. You inhaled deeply and leaned into the chair, letting them do their thing. It hurt when they brushed through the unruly mess that was your hair, it hurt when they plugged your eyebrows into shape, it hurt and stung and the shame flared up from time to time, but you tried to focus on Mommy and her beautiful face, as she watched you closely, never not paying attention to you.

That might have been the weirdest thing. The way she always watched you, so attentively. Nobody had ever looked at you like this, not even your own mother, who had always been busy with other things, your siblings, one of her husbands, her phone, the TV, anything else, while you tried to tell her about that drawing you made in preschool that day. You remember that you eventually gave up telling her anything, and the older you got, the more you distanced yourself from her, because it wasn't worth it anymore. She just didn't seem to care, and she did a very bad job at hiding it also.

But this woman, the one you met yesterday, looked at you with so much care in her pretty eyes, held your hand between hers, warm and gentle but firm, showing you she was there. She cared, she barely knew you, but she cared, and it brought another tear into your eye that you quickly wiped with your free hand, before giving her a brave smile as your head was jerked back a little again. And because she cared, you cared too, you wanted to show her that you were indeed a big girl, that this didn't hurt, that it wasn't uncomfortable, that you could endure.

This was for your own good anyway (even if it felt like torture). She was trying to make you your own person again, bring you back into the world that had spat you out so ruthlessly.

Eventually, you relaxed into whatever was happening around you. Your eyes fluttered closed, your hand gave hers the occasional squeeze, and you just lay there, thinking about your new life, thinking back to the tall man waiting his turn back home (your home... what a twist), and you wondered how he would spend the day with you. Would he do Dad-things with you? Take you to some sports event? Watch TV with you? Go fishing, maybe? You realized you had no idea what a father would even do with his kid, because neither your biological father nor any of your various step-fathers had ever shown any interest in you.

Then again, maybe you shouldn't focus on the Dad-things, but the Daddy-things. Because quite frankly, you didn't want this man to be your father, you wanted him to be there for you, hold you and kiss you, be something more to you, you wanted to sit on his lap again, lean against him, feel his warmth and strength, and his hands all over you...

A little gasp escaped you as you felt your core clenching around nothing, a little throb, then a little drip into your underwear. It had been a long while since you were attracted to anyone in any way, and somehow, after just a few moments with that man you knew practically nothing about, you felt your heart beating faster just thinking about him. But when you opened your eyes, coming back from your mind to notice the woman still holding your hand, you realized it wasn't just him.

You also liked her, the way she touched you, kissed you, how confident she was, how she made you feel both small and comfortable at the same time. You had never questioned your sexuality, never really considered yourself one or the other or anything else for that matter (you had a boyfriend in high school, and girlfriends you'd play around with, but it was never as intense and eye-opening as whatever you were experiencing right now).

It was all new and exciting, and knowing you had the attention of a beautiful woman and a handsome man was just mind-boggling to you. It felt like a dream, and not even the throbbing pain still coursing through your body seemed to be able to wake you up from it.

At the end of it all, you sat in the car again, next to Mommy, who still held your hand. After getting a new haircut (only a little trim), she'd taken you to the nail salon, and together you chose a subtle pink for your nails. They remained short and natural, but it felt so much better knowing they added to the overall transformation of your once neglected body. You did feel like a new person, a new girl, a young woman, ready to begin a new chapter of her life.

The trunk of the car was full of bags, filled with dresses and skirts, blouses and shirts, sweaters and cardigans, socks and tights and a variety of shoes, all of it girly, elegant, but also comfortable and chic, a whole closet full of things that only fit you. Buying underwear was another ordeal with Mommy, but in the end she found you beautiful pieces, ranging from cute and modest to really extravagant and barely covering anything.

And you felt good seeing yourself in them, confident despite all those areas you didn't particularly like – because apparently there was underwear that didn't have to be too loose or too tight, like the ones you'd bought before, the cheap ones. These new ones hugged your body like a second skin, accentuated the good parts and hid the bad ones, making you feel so much better about yourself.

During your shopping trip, Mommy bought you lunch and later a milkshake, walking with her hand around yours. While she did most of the talking, small talk mostly that you appreciated very much, you felt more and more at ease with her. Yesterday she'd been a stranger, and now, she was your Mommy, someone who took care of you, who laughed with you, who made you feel comfortable.

When the car returned to the mansion, the adventures of the day weighed you down more than you thought. You were tired, still a little sore from the waxing, but overall you were happier than you'd been in ages. Mommy helped you out of the car and pulled you towards the entrance door, while the driver started carrying all those bags into the house. In the kitchen, you were met by a delicious smell, and a large frame that made your heart beat faster.

“You've returned,” Daddy greeted you (looking so incredibly handsome in a white button-up with the sleeves rolled up over his strong forearms), putting down a dish towel before he approached you. Mommy let go of your hand and gave you a gentle nudge that you didn't really need, because in the next second you had fallen against the tall man's chest, your arms tight around his waist. “Aww, did you miss Daddy, baby girl?” he cooed, embracing you just as tightly.

You mumbled your confirmation against him, closing your eyes as you just leaned into him, no longer wondering why it felt so easy to be this close to these people. It just felt right. The way they looked at you, treated you, paid attention to you, all the trouble they went through for you. It was special, and you embraced it by embracing them, knowing how easy it was to please them with just a few words and a few simple displays of affection.

Eventually, he leaned you back by holding your shoulders, his eyes wandering over your flushed face and your bouncy new hair. His fingers stroked along your tresses, twirling the ends playfully. “Looks really good on you,” he told you, and you smiled shyly. “You're even more beautiful now, sweet girl,” he added quietly as he bent down to press his lips against your cheek.

You squirmed away with a soft giggle when he nuzzled your jaw, his hands roaming down your body to tease at your ribs. You fell into a full-on laughing fit when he continued tickling you, digging his fingers into your sides, while his teeth grazed along your pulse, your own hands grasping helplessly at his forearms.

“What a sweet sound,” he breathed against you before he stopped and grabbed your waist, lifting you effortlessly until his arms rested just beneath your rear, holding you up. You put your hands on his shoulders, looking down at him with your cheeks aflame and tears burning in your eyes, still smiling at him. “My sweet little pumpkin.”

You scrunched your nose at the nickname, making him grin even wider at you.

“Can I call you pumpkin, sweet girl?” he asked quietly, shifting you on his arms.

You considered it, wondering how he even got to calling you that, but then couldn't find a reason for him not to call you so. It did sound rather nice. “You can call me anything you want, Daddy,” you whispered breathlessly, your heart beating even faster.

“Yeah?”

You nodded, biting your lip. He turned you both around then and sat you down on the counter, leaning on his arms as he caged you in. His face was inches away from yours, his hot breath ghosting your lips. You watched him with growing anticipation, that tension in your stomach intensifying with every rapid heartbeat. He leaned closer, his nose brushing against yours, his eyes boring into your own, so intense, so hungry, and he tilted his head, your lips parted in preparation –

“So what's for dinner?” cut Mommy's voice through your special moment.

Daddy closed his eyes and leaned back slowly, exhaling loudly. You watched him, still holding your breath, your hands curled tight around the edge of the counter, your knees pressed together so hard your legs were trembling. He brushed his hands over your thighs, fingers teasing between them only for a second before he was gone, stepping away to the other side of the kitchen island, while Mommy took his place in front of you.

You saw them exchanging a long gaze, something dark glinting in Mommy's eyes. Her hands found your knees, and without looking at you, she forced them apart with a strength you hadn't expected from her. Gasping softly, you stared at her, and when her hands disappeared under the skirt of your dress, you stiffened. She looked back at you then, her eyes as intense as Daddy's had been.

“Girls Day isn't over yet, sweetheart,” she whispered, tilting her head before she leaned closer, brushing her full lips against yours. Her fingers moved around your rear before they slipped under the waistband of your tights. Your heart skipped several beats as she started pulling them down, and you squirmed on the counter, struggling between allowing her the motion and fighting it.

“You should give her a break,” sounded Daddy's voice from behind her, and when you looked past her as she lowered her head with a deep sigh, you saw concern and something else in his dark eyes.

“Don't tell me what to do,” Mommy whispered quietly, slowly turning around enough to look at him. Her hands were still halfway down your tights, her body wedged between your spread legs.

He stared at her, narrowing his eyes. “It's her first day, babe,” he said, the muscle in his jaw twitching.

She gritted her teeth, looking away until her suddenly cold eyes found yours. Your breath hitched in your throat. “But Mommy's hungry,” she muttered, licking her upper lip. You swallowed thickly, watching the exchange with bated breath, not quite understanding what was going on.

“Have dinner then,” he replied from behind her. “Greta made ravioli.”

Slowly, she slipped her hands from inside your tights and grabbed the waistband, shifting you back into them with a jerk. You gasped softly, scooting back on the counter. Then she gripped your chin and made you look at her. “Fine,” she said quietly. “Let's have dinner. I'll have you for dessert then, hm, sweet cheeks?”

She pulled you closer to her and smashed her lips against yours, inhaling deeply before leaning back again, letting go of you abruptly and stepping away, her heels clicking over the hardwood floor. And you sat there, on the counter, with your lips parted and trembling, confusion washing over you as you followed her with wide eyes.

Daddy extended a hand to you and, once you grabbed it hesitantly, helped you off the counter. Still holding your hand, he bent down to whisper softly: “Don't mind her, she gets cranky when she's hungry.” He winked at you then, squeezing your fingers.

You blinked up at him in even bigger confusion, but eventually you let it slide and let him pull you through the kitchen and into the dining room.

“By the way, I haven't asked before, so I told our chef to make something vegan. Do you eat meat, pumpkin? Do you have any allergies?” Daddy asked quietly as he pulled out a chair and motioned you to sit down.

“I, uh, I do, eat meat, I mean. And no allergies I know of,” you replied with a stammer, your legs still shaking a little.

“Good, that's perfect,” he mused and walked around you, sitting down at the head of the long table, while Mommy sat across from you, studying her nails.

Between you was a large plate covered by one of those fancy metal hoods, and when Daddy lifted it, a heavenly smell distracted you from the strange tension around you. There were three different types of handmade ravioli, big ones, not those tiny ones you'd eat straight out of the can, they looked so fancy and professional and delicious of all things, and when you listened to his explanation of which was which, you couldn't decide which one to choose, so you took one of each, earning you a little laugh from Daddy.

“That's a good appetite,” he praised, taking one for himself before he held out the prongs to Mommy. She turned her head to him, her eyes narrowed, and when she closed her fingers around his, you could see her knuckles blanching.

“Shopping makes hungry, you know?” she said pointedly, snatching the prongs out of his grip to put two ravioli onto her own plate.

He just sighed and lifted his fork. “Well, dig in, and again, welcome to your new home, pumpkin,” he added with a nod towards you.

You smiled shyly, nodding back. “Thank you,” you mumbled timidly, before you inhaled deeply, looking over the table to Mommy who seemed to poke at her food with quite the disinterest. “Really, thank you for everything, Mommy,” you said a little louder. “I had a great time today.”

She looked up then, her hard gaze softening immediately. Her hand reached across the table to brush against yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Me too, cariño,” she whispered, a small smile grazing her lips.

Seeing her relax again made your heart beat a little faster.

“Aren't you two the sweetest,” Daddy mused, his fork halfway up to his mouth. “Eat up now before it gets cold.”

Mommy pulled her hand away and focused back on her plate, ignoring Daddy's comment. You looked at him, feeling your cheeks burning up when he gave you another wink, before you turned back to your food as well.

Your mind was reeling from all the impressions of this single day. It was still something of a blur, a dreamlike experience, and occasionally a few doubts would poke through the cotton in your head, making you wonder when you'd wake up again. But you didn't. It seemed real enough. A real dinner, with real food, and real people. People who watched you, who offered you more, who reached out to scrape sauce off your cheek.

It had been twenty-four hours, and yet it felt as if you'd known these people way longer. The way they cared for you made it all so much easier. It was a dream, but a dream come true. And somehow you knew that there was a lot more on the horizon.

Chapter 3 🔷️ Chapter 4 🔷️ Chapter 5

End notes: Probably should have mentioned it earlier, but the whole waxing/makeover scene is only to show how Reader's depression made it impossible for her to take care of herself, it's not to shame anyone choosing to have body hair, because that is of course a choice. Please do not take offense in Mommy's ideals, she just wants to make Reader feel pretty in her own, slightly controlling way (that could be considered a bit dubcon if you squint, but really, Reader just isn't in a state of mind where she knows what she wants yet, so this is all some good-natured nudging).

Thank you for reading! New chapter every Saturday!

Up next: You are back in Daddy's arms, and he has his own special plans for you...

MASTERLIST 🔷️ AO3 🔷️ ORIGINAL WORKS

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concretejunglefm · 2 days ago

Text

I'm not ready to let you forget me (part 3).

*edit credit goes to the lovely @defuckingthrone-dot-com

You told your friends you want me dead And said that I did everythin' wrong And you're not wrong

An anon request for lovers to enemies -> playlist, part 1, part 2.

Summary: It’s been two years since Noah cheated on you, abruptly ending your relationship. However, the universe seems to have a peculiar sense of humor in its plan to reunite you.

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader.

CW: none really. Mentions of cheating, Noah can be an overall asshole and a tad bit of angst. Brief joke from Noah about suicide. Please take care of yourselves.

WC: 3.6k

Dividers: Silent-stories.

Upon returning to the hotel, you presume that your time together has come to an end, allowing you to finally bid farewell to Noah and the rest of the Omens. However, Sloan's unexpected bomb shatters your hope.

"You agreed to what?"

"Dinner and karaoke. I genuinely didn't think you'd mind. You've always been a karaoke fan, and what's wrong with a free dinner?"

"The issue is that he'll be there. What part of this being a girls' weekend are you missing?"

"What part of this being a chance to humiliate your ex are you missing? I'm simply setting up the opportunity for you."

Sloan understood how you felt after Noah had ghosted you. Between the heartbreak and depression, there was also the sting of humiliation. You always wished you had the chance to make him feel the same way he made you feel.

"Alright, but I won't pretend to enjoy it."

"I wouldn't expect you to."

When you bump into the guys again, you find Noah approaching with a grin stretching across his face, looking like a cat who got the cream. You can't help but feel a surge of anger and desire to slap his smug face.

"I won you a prize." he exclaims, holding out his hand to show off a packaged mood ring he won from one of the kids' arcade machines in the hotel. Despite your desire to ignore him, you can't prevent your attention drawing to him when he steps in front of you, blocking your way.

"Wow, thanks." you reply, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

Before you can stop him, he reaches out and grabs your left hand with his larger, tattooed hand. Using his other, he brings the packet of the mood ring to his mouth and rips it open with his teeth. With the ring free, he slides it onto your wedding ring finger, and your mind goes blank for a moment.

The color of the ring quickly changes from a vibrant rainbow of colors blending into one another to a solid black.

"It's black." he comments, and you finally snap back to reality.

Your gaze rises to meet his, and you flash him a harsh glare. "Like your heart." you retort.

Slipping the ring off, you move it onto your middle finger before flipping him off and taking a step back as Sloan calls over to you.

At dinner, you were seated next to Noah, who spent a majority of the evening occasionally fidgeted with his own ring. You swear you noticed him switching it to his left hand whenever your waiter made a flirtatious remark aimed at you.

And now, you've reached the karaoke room, where you should've anticipated Sloan's performance of Lana Del Ray's 'Young and Beautiful'. It's her signature song, so much so that she has you recording most of it for her Instagram story.

As you go to post it, Noah shuffles closer to you, peering over your shoulder. Despite your best efforts throughout the night to make it clear that you're not interested in engaging with him, he still seems to act oblivious.

"A new post for your story?" he asks over your shoulder, and you don't look up from the phone screen, rolling your eyes.

"Depends. Are you still stalking them?"

In the months following Noah ghosting you, you tried to resume your usual life, including posting on social media. You then began noticing random spam accounts appearing in your viewers' list, despite deleting and blocking the band account and his spam accounts that you were aware of.

One night, after sharing this revelation with Sloan, she made a conscious effort to post something obvious and pointed to him for you. Initially, you felt mortified, but then you recognized the familiar spam account name—the one that had been consistently watching your stories since you blocked Noah everywhere. From that moment on, you no longer felt guilty about making every pointed post possible, always including a song that reflected your current emotions.

However, that all changed when you decided to message the account that had been non-stop watching you for nearly five months after your 'breakup', sending them a simple message: "Please stop. I don't want you in my life anymore."

The next day, the account was deleted.

You would have considered it a success until one of his close friends' names started appearing in your story viewers. You could have easily posted things to a closed list or even privatized your account, but you decided that if he had been that desperate to stalk you, then he could and you would put on a great show of proving that you had moved on, regardless of how true that actually was.

"You knew about that, did you?" He doesn't even bother to deny it, which causes a surge of irritation because no one would be okay with their ex stalking their online life.

When it's time for the guys to choose their song again, Noah steps up to select one. He's opted to sit out due to their performance tomorrow, claiming he needs to 'protect his voice' beforehand.

You roll your eyes at his excuse, but you're quickly silenced by his song choices. Each one becomes more pointed than the last, revealing the underlying narrative of his pathetic attempt at an apology.

After the first song, "Gives You Hell" by the All American Rejects, you stare off at him, daggers in your eyes. He shrugs off his choice with a cocky grin.

The second song he chooses, "A Little Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More 'Touch Me'" by Fall Out Boy, feels even more appropriate and fuck boy like from him.

Noah's face lights up with pride in his song choice, which only irritates you more. Your jaw clenches as you bite back, wanting to confront him for his obviousness.

Naturally, his friends are oblivious or indifferent to the situation. They've always seemed friendly enough and liked you when you were together, but they never got involved in your relationship drama back then. Perhaps they feel the same way now. It's better to remain blissfully ignorant than to become caught in the middle.

"You're not having any fun." Sloan whines, plopping down next to you and offering you a sip from her half-empty glass. You had already finished yours, during your annoyance with Matt and Folio's rendition of "Gives You Hell." Surprisingly, Nicholas' rendition of a Fall Out Boy song fails to improve your overall mood.

"Watching you eye fuck Jolly while singing 'Young and Beautiful' is hardly my idea of fun." You sigh, your voice devoid of any hint of bite. You genuinely enjoy listening to Sloan sing the same song repeatedly. It's her go-to choice, especially when she's caught the eye of a guy. Strangely, when she performs Lana songs, they seem to captivate her men even more.

"Well, since you're up next, you need to cheer up, and I've already chosen a song for you." She beams, and you raise an eyebrow in skepticism.

"Sloan, what on earth did you do?"

"Oh, you'll see."

When it's your turn, you step onto the designated 'stage area' of the room, taking the microphone and scanning the screen. Within seconds, the chords to Carrie Underwood's 'Before He Cheats' begin to play, and you let out a scoff. You glance over at Sloan, who has now positioned herself between Nicholas and Jolly, and shoots you a wink.

It was one of your go-to songs when you were cruising through bars back in college. The lyrics always resonated with you then, and they continue to do so now. As the song begins, you launch into your own performance, tipsy enough to feel bold and lock eyes with Noah.

Every Instagram story you've posted over the past two years has featured a song dedicated to him, but now you finally get to sing one to his face—a perfect one that calls him out on the behavior you'd been suspicious of.

The cocky signature grin he's been sporting for his past few song choices fades, and you feel a slight surge of pride for being able to do that—for making him lose that ego he's been so proudly displaying.

As the song concludes, you take your bow, giggling as you hand the microphone off to Jolly, who swiftly transitions into his own rendition of Poison's 'Talk Dirty To Me'.

"I'm heading to the bar for another drink. Anyone want one?" You ask, taking orders for everyone except Noah, who simply holds up his bottle of water.

Approaching the bar, you're greeted by the same waiter who had been trying to flirt with you earlier that evening. "What a pleasant surprise." he remarks, and your cheeks flush slightly.

"Well, perhaps I was hoping to cross paths with you again." you reply, even though you weren't entirely interested in him. However, you couldn't resist entertaining a bit of harmless flirting, especially after dealing with Noah this weekend.

"I'll be off in a few minutes. Maybe I can buy your next drink?" he offers, sliding the suggestion your way as he wipes down the bar.

A small smirk tugs at the corners of your lips. "Okay, then." you nod before relaying the drink orders for Sloan and the guys.

Leaning against the bar, you find yourselves engaged in a playful back-and-forth flirtation, even genuinely giggling at some of his remarks. However, the moment is interrupted by an abrupt silence when you hear Noah's voice behind you.

"I was wondering about where you got to." His hand slides across the bar, his fingers barely brushing against your arm on purpose as he reaches for the drinks laid out in front of you. "I thought I'd lend a hand."

"I was happy to assist." The waiter interjects, but you remain silent, your jaw clenched, and you swear your eye twitches at the brief contact Noah makes with you a second time, as if deliberately trying to ward off the guy who had been flirting with you throughout the night.

"No need, friend." Noah responds, and you wait for the poor guy to step away with a slight dejected expression before turning to Noah with a hiss.

"What on earth was that?"

"I should be asking you that. Are you actually entertaining this random guy?"

"Random guy? I don't know, he must be better than the guys I already know." You huff, moving yourself away from him as you take Sloan and your drink, leaving the remaining ones for Noah to carry.

"What does that mean?" He calls after you, and you briefly turn your head, shooting your retort over your shoulder.

"You're smart. Figure it out yourself."

When you return to the karaoke room, you find a corner to settle into, sipping your cocktail mix while watching the last few songs of the evening unfold. Time seems to fly by, yet you can't shake the feeling of Noah's eyes on you, a notion you stubbornly refuse to acknowledge.

Back at the hotel, Sloan is already entwining your arm and guiding you towards the bar, insistently, pouting her lips and fluttering her lashes as if she can manipulate you into folding as easy as she does any man.

"No more. I'm ready for bed." You attempt to pull yourself away, but Jolly swiftly intervenes, taking a tipsy Sloan into his embrace, promising to take her for one final drink.

As you turn away, you overhear the final words of a conversation between Nicholas and Noah, your name being mentioned, drawing your attention. "You can't keep lying to her, you know?"

Lying? What could he possibly be lying about now?

Instantly, you find yourself yearning for some fresh air, feeling a surge of anger as you impulsively charge towards them, deliberately pushing between them.

"Woah, what the—" Noah's voice catches your attention, but he quickly loses his annoyance when he realizes it's you pushing past him. He calls out to you, but you ignore his attempts, determined to create as much distance between you and him as possible.

You had a reason for choosing to hide away on the rooftop balcony pool. Besides the quieter ambiance, you enjoyed toeing the line of where the diving section of the balcony opened up to the pool below.

It was Vegas, so it wasn't entirely quiet. Amidst the bustling crowds below and the soothing hum of music emanating from the hotel, there was no opportunity for deep contemplation. Yet, you almost didn't mind the constant stimulation. If you allowed yourself to dwell on Nicholas' words, you risked losing control and spiraling back to the emotional turmoil you had endured after Noah abruptly ghosted you.

From the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of something, and your gaze is instantly met with the unwelcome sight of Noah. A sigh escapes your lips. "Noah, what are you doing up here?"

"I was searching for you, believe it or not."

"Why?"

"Because you looked upset."

"And let me guess, you felt guilty or blamed yourself? Wow, an egotist and an asshole all rolled into one."

"Are you going to keep calling me an asshole throughout our time here?"

"Depends on whether you continue to behave like one."

"Fair point." He paused, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Will you at least come back from the ledge? You're making me anxious."

"Why? Do you think I'm going to jump?" You chuckled, deliberately walking along the darkened ledge of the balcony as if balancing on a tightrope.

"No." You heard the hint of doubt in his voice.

"You're lying."

"Okay, maybe."

"So, you think that I'm suicidal now?"

"I think you'd do anything to get my attention."

You nod to yourself, mulling over Noah's words. Your mouth opens as if to laugh, and you flick your tongue against your teeth. Before you can respond, you take a step away and glance down over the edge. With a couple more steps, you cast a look over your shoulder to him. "We'll see about that."

Without warning, you charge towards the edge of the open balcony, hearing Noah call after you as you jump over the ledge.

It feels exhilarating, your heart pounding in your chest as you plunge into the water of the pool below and you surface, you hear a splash behind you. Wiping your hand over your face, you look in the direction of the ripples and see Noah resurface beside you.

He had jumped in after you.

"Did you—" He briefly chokes on a mouthful of water, spitting it out as he treads water in the same way you are, keeping himself close to you. "Did you know this was here?"

"Guilty." You shrug, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

You had come up for some air and when you saw the pool below, you couldn't resist the temptation to dive in. It had been Noah who had interrupted your original plan, accusing you of trying to hurt yourself or get his attention.

"Wow. You're an asshole." He remarks, shaking his wet hair and pushing it back with his tattooed hand.

"Are you really that surprised?"

"No."

There's a brief pause before he speaks again, his voice softer with his confession; "I missed you."

"Ever heard of a phone?" You quip back without a moment's hesitation or time to ponder the meaning of his words.

"You blocked me."

You pause, wondering how he knew. Unless he had simply assumed. Or did that mean he had tried to reach out to you?

"Well, it's what you deserved."

"You're right."

That surprises you even more than the idea that he had tried to contact you. Noah had never said that you were right, about anything. In fact, most of your fights had stemmed from the fact that he was always so adamant against agreeing with you.

"Well, I can't say that I missed you." You're partially lying, but you hope he won't notice.

"I didn't expect you to."

"Well, good, because I didn't."

For a moment, everything between you falls silent. Your bodies inch closer as you continue to tread water in the deeper end of the pool. Your legs barely brush against each other, and you feel the gentle touch of his hand against your arm beneath the water. Then, you catch his gaze lingering a bit too long on you, flickering between your eyes and your lips. You don't need to ask what he's thinking; you already know.

"Don't even think about kissing me."

You burst the bubble which had been created around you both, delighting in popping it and watching as his expression shift from soft contemplation to sudden flustering.

"I-I wasn't."

"Good. Don't." You shorten your words and start swimming towards the pool's edge, pulling yourself out.

Your dress is soaked through and clinging to your skin. It had been a good plan until now, but the effects of the alcohol are wearing off, and you wonder if Noah's decision to jump in after you, assuming you were attempting something more dangerous, held any genuine meaning. Perhaps he did still care?

For a fleeting moment, you glance back at him as he attempts to climb out and turning to face him, you take a step closer, your foot poised to press down on his hand, halting his movements.

When your eyes meet his, he looks up at you with a soft expression, his dark brown eyes wide as they focus on you. "What did Nick mean earlier when he said you had to stop lying? Lying about what?" You hold his gaze, your foot pressing down gently against his fingers.

"Oh, nothing, just—ow." His voice breaks as you apply more pressure, deliberately pressing down on his fingers.

"Try again."

"Okay. Damn. To myself. He wants me to stop lying to myself."

"About what?"

"About you. About wanting to apologize."

You step back, releasing his hand from beneath your foot as you absorb his words. "Then do it. Get on your knees and say that you're sorry." You say it with a sense of confidence, despite his scoff at your request, but you remain steadfast, your gaze narrowing at his still wide brown eyes.

Instead of refusing, he climbs out of the pool and kneels at the edge, taking a near-pathetic wet dog stance in front of you.

"I'm sorry." he begins, clearing his throat before continuing, hearing a clear plea in his tone. "I'm truly sorry. For what I did. I shouldn't have…" His voice trails off, and for a moment, his gaze flickers away, almost as if he's ashamed.

Good. He should be.

It shouldn't be satisfying to see him in this vulnerable state, but you never imagined you'd have the infamous Noah Sebastian begging for your forgiveness.

"I should've apologized then. And all the millions of times I was watching your instagram. I wanted to, I did. I've been wanting to. I wanted to reach out and apologize the moment I knew you were coming."

Suddenly your brain latches onto those few words; since I knew you were coming. How did he know? Not even you knew, not until the other week. It was a last minute trip, one planned by—Sloan.

"Get up." You interrupt his ramble and you watch as he struggles to process the instruction as if he doesn't know whether you've accepted his attempt at an apology or not.

When he stands, he nods, shaking his limbs and himself off like he's an overgrown wet greyhound. "Yeah, let's head back inside."

You start to walk ahead of him, pulling yourself out from his reach when you catch his hand coming behind you in your periphery. You haven't responded to his apology and won't be giving him the satisfaction of even the slightest touch.

"What on earth happened to you two?!" Sloan, who had been flirting with Jolly earlier, is now walking away from cozying up to Nicholas. You narrow your eyes at her.

"Someone fell into the pool." Noah answers, and your gaze shifts to him. You fix him with the same disgruntled expression.

"I'm going to bed." you dismiss yourself, walking away as Sloan reaches for you, grasping your arm as she hurries to catch up.

"Did you really fall in the pool?" she asks, her brow raised in curiosity.

"Yes." you reply through gritted teeth.

"All that to get a man to dive in after you. I know you said he's an asshole, but—"

You come to a stop, pulling your arm from her grasp and turning to face her. "But what, Sloan? Should I give him another chance?"

Her mouth opens to speak, but no words come out, and her eyes widen in realization.

"Because I'm starting to think these strange coincidences aren't just that. Not to mention the way you've been flirting with Jolly and now Nicholas."

A brief flash of guilt crosses her face, and everything begins to make sense. Noah and his band may have had a concert in Vegas this weekend, but your run-ins with him had been anything but coincidental, as you had suspected.

"So much for you mocking me for being hung up on a guy for the past two years, huh? You're such a great friend, Sloan. So great." You turn to walk away, but she stops you.

"I thought—"

"You thought what, huh?"

"That seeing him would finally give you the closure you've been seeking. That maybe one last time being together would remind you that he's not worth your time."

"Yeah, I've come to realize that". You nod, taking a deep breath as you ponder Sloan's words. "I've also come to understand that my friend is more manipulative than I could have ever imagined, considering I never would have expected you to throw my heart back into the ring with him." Your voice cracks, but you manage to utter your words before pushing past her and finally walking away.

tagged: @fadingangelwisp @deathblacksmoke @geminigirlfromfinland @fuck1ng-queen @xxkittenkissesxx @lacy1986 @ichoosetenderomens @chey-h @blade-dressed-in-red @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @halfalgorithmhafdeity @dominuslunae @tosoundlessdarkistare @annthepenguin @samanthasgone @littlebear423 @aprosiacperson @flowery-mess @nyriastark @blackgirlmagicforever

#bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian fanfic #noah sebastian fic #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic #lovers to enemies fic #concretejunglefm fics #asshole!noah sebastian

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akawifeyy · 22 hours ago

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LEMONADE | fic (DR3)

description: as much as he would miss the high-stakes lifestyle of formula 1, daniel ricciardo is ready to start fresh. and the perfect start seems to be in his hometown, where a little girl is running a lemonade stand.

tropes: meet-cute, happy ending, lemonade stand au!, single mum!reader

face claim: none

trigger warnings: mature content (!!), swearing

| note: i love dr3 soooo much y'all, i hope i did him justice 🫶

It all started with the lemonade stand.

A young girl, probably five or six years old, with curly brown braids tied up in pink ribbons, was standing by its side. She stood at attention like a miniature soldier, her eyes watching the street for potential customers.

The hand-painted sign swinging from the top read "Leia's Lemonade Stand" in blocky yellow writing, and a giant beaker of the refreshment was perched on the counter.

Daniel was intrigued. He patted his pockets, looking for any spare change, and found a wad of bills. "Hey," he greeted the little girl, who looked up at him with owlishly large eyes. "I'd like to buy some lemonade? One glass, please."

She beamed, dashing behind the counter to hand him a cool glass filled with sugary yellow liquid. "That'll be two dollars!"

"Here you go," Daniel said, counting out the money and leaving her some extra change, handing it to her. "Thank you for your service."

As Daniel was turning to leave, you walked up to the girl, who was your carbon copy, just a decade or two younger. You were her mother, Daniel assumed. "What do we say, Leia?" you asked, a proud smile evident on your face.

"Thank you and you're welcome!" Leia chirped.

Daniel took a sip of the cool refreshment, sighing in contentment. "This is delicious stuff. Did she make it herself?" he asked you.

"I helped out a bit, but most of this was done herself."

He outstretched his hand. "I'm Daniel."

"Y/N," you replied, taking it. "I haven't seen you around before. Did you just move here?"

Daniel shook his head, trying to formulate an answer. "I just moved back from, uh...out of the country."

"Oh?" you inquired. "I'm jealous, I've never lived outside of Perth. My parents were born here, I was born here, and now Leia was born here. It's tradition, I guess."

He laughed. "Perth is a nice place. The rest of the world is overrated."

"At least you've experienced it," you griped.

Daniel huffed out a breath, reminiscing on his years of fast-paced travel. City after city, country after country. He never stayed in one place for long. "Yeah, I suppose so. Have you really never been outside of Perth?"

You lowered your head, self-conscious. "I mean, I've visited Melbourne for a weekend girl's trip, but my life has been pretty busy ever since I had Leia. And her father...doesn't help out."

Daniel's attention sparked at the mention of Leia's father. "Is he around?"

You twisted your lips in consternation. "He's alive, but he skipped town shortly after Leia was born. Said he was destined for greater things, or some shitty statement like that. I don't remember, and frankly, I do not care. Leia and I get on just fine."

Daniel grinned. "I can tell." He set the glass back down on the counter, and Leia picked it up, putting it under the stand to be washed and cleaned later. "Thanks for the lemonade. Keep up the good work, hm?" he said to her, and she gave him two enthusiastic thumbs-up.

"I'll see you around?" you asked, hopefully in a casual tone.

Daniel nodded, giving you a cheesy wink. "Of course."

Two days later

The doorbell rung half past noon, and you checked the peephole to see who was there. Daniel. He was shifting nervously, wringing his hands out. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" you greeted him, stepping aside so he could enter the house.

"I was wondering if I could get another glass of the lemonade? Leia's done an amazing job with it."

You sighed sorrowfully. "We're all out, sorry. Leia has just started school again, so we haven't continued the business. Maybe we'll make some more during the weekend?"

Daniel pouted. "That blows. I've been looking for a way to talk to you again."

"Sorry." You shrugged one shoulder, and then you realized what Daniel had said. "Pardon me, what did you say?"

Daniel's eyes widened, his face reddening with embarrassment. "Uh, I was hoping to chat with you a bit? If that's alright? I don't want to intrude."

You shook your head, leading him into the living room. A variety of Leia's toys were scattered about, and you bent down to pick them up and move them out of the way. "It's OK, don't worry. My job's remote, so I don't have to leave or anything. Not until two, when Leia comes home from school."

"Great," Daniel said, sitting down on the couch beside you. "I've been bored out of my mind since I've come back to Perth."

You swallowed, not exactly sure of how to respond. "Yeah? Is your past haunting you or something?"

Daniel chuckled. "Not exactly. I'm just used to a lot of hustle-and-bustle, and Perth...isn't really delivering on that."

"Where did you work?" you asked.

He fidgeted with his hands. "Er...I used to be a Formula One driver. I know, wild, but yeah. DR3." He laughed again, but this time it was dry and full of resentment.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Formula One? My sister's obsessed with it. Wow, that's really cool."

"Yeah, it is. But they moved on to better talent, and now I'm back here." He slouched down, avoiding your gaze.

You gently nudged his shoulder. "Well, I'm glad you've returned and that we've met."

He gave you a wan half-smile.

For another hour, you two chatted away, talking about your past, about Leia, and about your hobbies. You told him about your Star Wars obsession (aka the reason why you'd chosen the name Leia for your daughter), showing him the vintage R2D2 toy you kept on your bookshelf. In return, he told you about how he used to go fishing with his parents in Lake Monger and about some of his F1 exploits.

Eventually, the alarm you set to keep track of when to pick Leia up went off, marking the end of your conversation. "I've got to go," you apologized.

"It's no problem." Daniel waved a hand, brushing you off. "Here's my number in case you want to keep in touch?" He wrote it down on a piece of paper and handed it to you.

"Thanks," you said, flustered.

"See you around, Y/N," he said as he stepped out the front door.

Text messages between Daniel and Y/N (Takes place a week to two months after their first meeting)

Sydney, Australia (Two months later)

"Come on, Leia," you urged your daughter as you led her through a thick crowd of people in the airport. "Don't let go of my hand."

Daniel was in front, leading you towards the exit, where a glossy crimson Ferrari was parked. "Here we go." He opened the door for you, sliding beside you and helping to buckle Leia in.

You smiled at him. "Thanks so much for inviting us."

"No problem, darling."

The pet name sent a curl of heat through your core, and you looked out the window so you wouldn't have to respond. The view was stunning: metallic skyscrapers, a bustling city center. You couldn't believe that this was what you were missing out on your whole life.

About twenty minutes later, the car stopped in front of a sleek modern hotel. You saw Daniel's mum wave at you, and swallowed roughly. You prayed that she would like you.

"Leia, be nice," you chastised her before you disembarked from the car. "Use your manners."

Leia bobbed her head up and down. "I know, Mum."

When you walked over, Daniel's mum immediately struck up a conversation with you, pulling you into a tight embrace. "I'm Grace!" she introduced herself. "And this must be little Leia." She bent down to shake Leia's hand. "You look just like her."

"Thanks," you replied. "It's nice to meet you."

Grace put her hand on her heart. "Danny's told me all about you. I'm happy to see that you're exactly as I hoped."

Your gaze whipped to Daniel, who turned even redder. One more shade, and he could pass for a bearded tomato. "Really?"

"Yep!" Grace clapped Daniel on the back. "He loves you."

You blinked, but didn't blurt anything out. "We should probably head inside."

Daniel nodded fervently. "I agree."

That night

"You want to explain to me what your mum told me?" you probed Daniel, crossing your arms over your chest.

Daniel covered his face with his hands. "Fuck, Y/N, I'm sorry. She's not a good secret keeper."

"Are you saying that she was lying?"

His eyes peeked out from behind his palms. "Do you want me to say no?"

"Tell me the truth," you scolded.

Daniel sighed and took a step closer to you. "She wasn't. Ever since I saw you at that lemonade stand, I thought you were the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. You're funny, and strong, and independent. I want to prove to you that I won't be like the other one. I'm here to stay."

Without a second's worth of hesitation, you tugged on his shirt collar, pulling him down to your height, and kissed him. He moaned softly, his arms snaking around your waist and caging you against the wall. "Fuck, Y/N."

The kiss became more passionate as you tangled your fingers in Daniel's brown curls, and his own found the swell of your breasts underneath your shirt. "You're so perfect," he murmured softly. "Can I?"

You nodded, at a loss for words. Daniel lifted your shirt over your head, revealing the lacy pink bra you were wearing. "Fuck, I'm going to come in my pants like a schoolboy right now. My God, you're a fucking work of art."

You unbuttoned his shirt and loosened the waistband of his pants, letting them fall to the floor. Daniel picked you up, placing you on the bed. "The door's locked," he assured you when you opened your mouth. "If we're quiet, Leia won't know anything."

"Good," you whispered. "I don't want to traumatize her."

He laughed, and kissed you again on the collarbone. Carefully, he placed your hands above your head and said, "I want to have sex with you. Is that OK?"

"You don't have to ask, Daniel," you rasped.

Daniel shook his head. "Yes, I do. Consent is not a laughing matter, darling."

You expelled a breath in faux-annoyance, and he continued his mission. One slow thrust, and he was in you, filling your pussy and making you groan with pleasure. "Daniel..."

"Does it hurt?" he asked worriedly. "I'll go slower."

You twisted your head to look at him. "No, it's fine. Just...not used to this. It's been a while."

He pecked you on the forehead, his arms caressing the curves of your skin. "I won't hurt you, I promise."

He drove into you, the movements firm and sure. Soon, you felt the tidal wave of pleasure build up in you like an insistent hum. "Daniel, I'm going to..." you trailed off, the sentence ending with another moan.

Daniel kissed you on the temple, the touch exactly what you needed to tumble over the edge. "Let go for me, darling."

And so you did, the orgasm rippling over you and making you shudder with satisfaction.

He pulled out a moment later, his own orgasm succeeding yours, and he flopped down beside you, one arm wresting you closer to him. "You're stunning."

"When I'm all fucked out?" you teased.

Daniel played with a loose strand of your hair, his eyes bright with happiness. "Yep."

"You're so silly, Daniel," you poked fun at him, tapping his nose twice.

He flicked your nose, and stated the very obvious fact, "But you adore me."

Three weeks later

Daniel clutched the bouquet of tulips in his hand, suddenly nervous. It wasn't the first time he had taken you out on a date. Hell, it wasn't even the second time. Yet each and every time, he was terrified.

You were perfect.

And he was...he was Daniel, the former F1 driver for four teams.

"Thanks for picking me up," you told him as he ushered you to his car. "I really appreciate it."

He gave you a quick kiss on the forehead. "No problem, darling."

You sat down, and then readjusted your position, feeling something poking your back. It was a box.

"Not a ring," he promised when he saw your expression. "I wouldn't have you accidentally sit on your engagement ring, darling."

You scowled at him, but popped open the top. A beautiful ruby necklace gleamed up at you, and you let out a gasp.

"It's my mother's. She wanted you to have it," Daniel told you.

"Wow, Daniel. This is...breath-taking." You hugged him.

"Just like you," he flirted, and you rolled your eyes. "It's the truth."

You extricated the necklace from the box and clipped it around your neck. "How does it look?"

"Perfect." He kissed you on the lips, one hand nestled on the crook of your jaw. "And all mine."

─── ୨୧ ─── THE END ─── ୨୧ ───

#f1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 #dr3 #dr3 x reader #daniel ricciardo #formula one #f1 fic #f1 writer #f1 fanfic

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bbyg4rl · 10 hours ago

Note

reader getting all hot and bothered watching jj fix her car

thank you for fixing my car JJ

cw: jj x reader, no established relationship, oral (m receiving) !

summary: you thank jj for fixing your car.

a/n: this was supposed to be a small blurb but i got carried away lol hope you like this anon ♡

"you should let me take care of your car more" JJ speaks out from where he was hunched over your car's open hood. You had been watching him for fifteen minutes now. Fifteen minutes of the best view in obx. Fifteen minutes of grunts and pants and back and abs and arms. What a view.

You were sure the oil from your car ruining jj's shirt was just the universe blessing you. It's not everyday you can sit and watch a shirtless jj work.

"all done dumbass" he says pushing the hood of your car down with a loud grunt. Your eyes refuse to leave the sight of his arms as the muscles flex.

"Oh wow" you whisper to yourself, taking mental polaroids of every movement he makes.

Not a word leaves your mouth when he faces you. Your pussy's doing the talking now.

You can't help but rub your thighs together when he shoots you a shit eating grin all covered in grease and oil.

And of course he notices the affect he's having on you. He was enjoying this too.

Why else would a two minute fix take fifteen minutes? Why else would a perfectly fine oil sump shoot oil all of a sudden? That too only on his shirt?

Seeing you all worked up over had him worked up. He had his eyes on you the whole time. He'd seen every lip bite, every clench of your thighs, every flutter of your stomach- he was feeling everything you were feeling.

It took a special kind of control for him not to take you right there. To resist dirtying you with his greasy hands and bathe you in engine oil as he bent you over the hood and slid in and out of you.

He walked over to you slowly, his greasy hands now on your knees. "No 'thank you JJ'?"

"Thank you JJ" You say to him softly, voice on the verge of whimpers. You knew that he knew what you were feeling.

He takes a step back and points to himself. "Look at me baby- a small thank you isnt gonna cut it now is it?"

He takes your hand and pulls you off your seat. Your knees felt like jelly as he led you to the back seat of your car. He opened the door and you slid into the seat, earning a chuckle from him. He slides in after you and closes the door.

"Thank you for fixing my car JJ" you giggle out as your hands reach the hem of his shorts, He groans when you palm his crotch a few times before pulling them down.

You're quickly met with his cock, standing proud in front of your face. You wrap your arms around him and give him a few slow strokes. It's only fair he deserved to feel good after all the hard work he had just done.

He pulls your hair into a makeshift ponytail with his hand and tugs you lower, silently ordering you to open up. And you gladly did. He pushed your face lower and lower as his dick twitched in your throat.

He held you down for a few more moments before using his grip on your hair to bob your head up and down on him. He hit the back of your throat with every rutt of his dick against you. Your mascara ran down your cheeks as he continued to fuck your mouth with his cock.

He pulls you off when hes satisfied with how much mascara is smeared on your face. He taps your cheek a few times- his silent code for please me.

You take his signal and reach out to stroke him, wrapping your mouth around his pink tip, You slowly suck as you tighten your hands around his shaft, twisting them around his girth, alternating between small kitten licks on his tip and long licks on the veins on his underside.

It didnt take long for him to reach his climax. He let out small whimpers as he paints your face with his cum.

"Thank you for fixing my car JJ" you say again as you lap up at the sticky liquid around your lips.

check out my other works ! masterlist

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armpirate · 1 day ago

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The Vows Between Us || San

pairing: San x fem!reader || Arranged marriage

w.c.: 13.6k

Aprox. time of reading: 40 / 50 minutes

Summary: For San, marrying you was a calculated move -a necessary step to secure the company that was rightfully his. But also a move to know you'd be his after years of looking at you from afar. For you, it was an escape from the gilded cage your family had locked you in. What neither of you anticipated was the spark that would ignite in the ashes of your arrangement. But in a world where every touch felt like a promise and every whisper hid a secret, falling for him was your first mistake. Because just when you thought his heart might truly be yours, you uncovered the truth. Or so you thought.

MASTERLIST

The air inside San's office was warm and suffocating despite the minimalistic modern design and large floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked Berlin's skyline. You stepped inside with measured steps, your heels clicking softly on the marble floor. San was already there, leaning against the edge of his grand wooden desk with his long thick fingers wrapping around the pen that kept swirling on his digits every few seconds, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.

"You're early," he said, his voice smooth but laced with something smug.

"I prefer to get unpleasant things over with quickly," you replied, your tone cool and detached as you slipped off your coat. "I assume your father told you why I'm here."

San chuckled, swirling the pen one last time before putting it down. "Oh, I know. The future Mrs. Choi wants to 'discuss terms,' right? Sounds like a business merger already." his dark eyes gleamed with interest as he looked you up and down, deliberately slow. "But I'm curious, why did you finally agree? You seemed so determined to avoid me before."

You crossed your arms, meeting his gaze without flinching. "Not everything is about you, San. My reasons are my own."

San smiled -slow, dangerous, and entirely too pleased. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

That sentence alone had you rolling your eyes, trying to control yourself from slipping your tongue on how disgusted you were by that whole thing.

San stepped closer, closing the space between you just enough to make your breath hitch. His cologne -warm and spicy- wrapped around you like an invisible trap. "Keep our distance?" he repeated, his voice low, almost amused. "Is that what you want? Because that's not what it looked like back at that business gala... when you couldn't stop staring."

You narrowed your eyes. "I was staring at the disaster unfolding around me, not at you."

San smirked, tilting his head. "Right. That's why your eyes followed me the entire night." he leaned in, his lips just a breath away from your ear. "You're good at playing it cold, Y/n. But I wonder how long you can keep that act up once we're married."

You refused to back down, your voice calm despite the spark of irritation in your chest. "I've dealt with men far more intimidating than you, San. Trust me, keeping you at arm's length won't be a challenge."

A flicker of something darker crossed his eyes -something almost dangerous. For a moment, the air between you felt heavy, charged with unspoken words and years of unresolved tension.

"Good," San finally said, his voice a whisper. "Keep trying to resist me. It'll make it that much more fun when you fail."

Your jaw tightened, and you took a step back, reclaiming the distance. "You're delusional if you think I'll ever fall for you."

San raised his eyebrows in amused awe as he took on the challenge. "We'll see, future Mrs. Choi. We've got a lifetime to test that theory."

You turned on your heel, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing how his words affected you. But as you walked toward the door, you couldn't shake the feeling that San was right. The real challenge wasn't staying distant -it was making sure you didn't get burned by the fire between you.

"By the way, you mentioned divorce... didn't you?" your tracks stopped the second he mentioned that detail, hearing his heavy steps behind you as he approached his body.

Slowly, you turned to him, unable to back down on your stance "That's what we agreed on."

"No, it was one of mine" you spat back. "Either sign those divorce papers on good terms, or I'll drag you from one trial to another" San loved the challenge, he loved the way your eyes fixed on him to make sure he understood everything you were saying.

"What if I don't want to sign them?"

You weren't sure exactly when he got so close, but you could feel the warm air escaping his nostrils on your cheeks.

"Your choice" you managed to get rid of his grip. "Either sign those papers, or I'll make sure to tell everyone what all of this is about".

"You won't. And you wanna know how I know?" he took one step closer to you. "I'll make your life a living hell if you do".

"With what power?"

Your mocking tone was the last straw before he moved his hand from your elbow to your throat, wrapping his fingers around it and slamming your body against the wide door.

Your eyes were fixed on him, confused at how easily he let you go. And, somehow, his words were even scarier than his actions, because you could see the threat through them.

The grand hall was filled with muted whispers and expectant gazes, the air thick with anticipation. The soft hum of violins played in the background, their melody delicate but almost haunting. The guests sat in rows beneath an arch of white roses and crystal chandeliers, their eyes flitting between the tall doors at the back of the aisle and San, who stood at the altar in his perfectly tailored black suit, waiting.

His fingers twitched at his sides as he stole a glance at the watch, sliding the sleeve of his jacket just a bit far up.

Ten minutes late. Then fifteen.

You weren't there.

The doors remained closed, and San's jaw tightened. His father, seated in the front row, shot him a warning glance -one that practically screamed "Handle this".

Then, just as his patience teetered on the edge of collapse, the heavy doors finally creaked open.

A hush fell over the crowd.

And there you were.

Your feet felt like concrete as you took your first step. Hesitation rooted itself deep inside you, your body caught in a battle between instinct and obligation.

San watched you with an intensity that bordered on desperation. His dark eyes flickered with a thousand questions. You couldn't miss the way his shoulders tensed or how his lips pressed into a thin line, betraying the fear he was trying so hard to conceal.

Step by step, you made your way down the aisle, but each step felt heavier than the last. Doubt whispered cruelly in your ear. "You don't have to do this" you told yourself.

Your fingers clutched the bouquet so tightly that your knuckles turned white. You forced yourself forward, your gaze fixed ahead, refusing to meet San's eyes until you stood just a breath away from him.

"Finally," San muttered under his breath, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

There was relief in his tone, but it was wrapped in a layer of frustration.

The officiant began to speak, his words echoing in the cavernous hall. You barely registered them, your mind a tangled mess of emotions. San's eyes never left yours. His expression was calm on the surface, but you could see the storm raging just beneath it: fear, frustration, and something dangerously close to longing.

"And now," the officiant said, his voice cutting through the fog in your mind, "if the bride and groom would like to exchange their vows."

San went first. His voice was steady, but the practiced words carried an unexpected weight, laced with sincerity that caught you off guard.

"I promise to protect you," he said, his gaze locking onto yours. "To stand beside you through whatever comes next. No matter what happens... I'm yours."

There was a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes -just a flash- but it was enough to send your heart lurching in your chest.

Then it was your turn. The officiant turned to you expectantly, waiting for your response.

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came.

A heavy silence hung in the air. It stretched long enough to make the guests shift uncomfortably in their seats. Even the soft melody of the violins seemed to falter.

San's fingers curled slightly at his sides, his eyes searching yours for a sign, for anything.

The officiant cleared his throat. "Do you, Y/n, take Choi San to be your lawfully wedded husband?" his tone was insistent, as if he wanted to get any words from you to get all of that over with.

The pause that followed was suffocating. You felt San's breath catch, his entire body coiled tight, ready to unravel.

Although he hoped you wouldn't humiliate him that way, he saw you completely able to do it.

Finally, you whispered the words.

"...I do."

Your voice was barely audible, a breath more than a declaration. But it was enough.

San exhaled, his shoulders relaxing, though the tension in his jaw remained. His eyes never left yours, dark and unreadable, as if trying to solve a puzzle with too many missing pieces.

The officiant smiled, oblivious to the war waging between the two of you. "By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

San hesitated, just for a heartbeat, before leaning in. Your head immediately threw back slightly, enough for him to know you didn't want that kiss and make it seem like a shy move for the rest of the assistants. His hand found your waist -firm but not forceful- as he tilted his head and pressed his lips to yours.

The kiss was brief, calculated for the audience, but the heat of it lingered far longer than it should have. San had been daydreaming way too long about it to waste that chance.

His lips were warm against yours, but there was something else beneath the surface. A question. A challenge.

When he pulled back, his eyes locked on yours once more. He didn't smile. Neither did you.

The applause from the crowd felt distant, like it belonged to another world entirely.

As the two of you turned to face the audience, San leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear.

"We're just getting started," he whispered, his voice dark with promise.

You kept your face neutral, your expression unreadable, but your pulse betrayed you, thudding wildly in your chest.

You smiled and nodded your way through countless conversations, always keeping one eye on San. He was never far, and every time you saw him start toward you, you slipped between groups of guests or ducked behind another table.

San, however, was nothing if not persistent.

"Running from me again?" he said when he reached you, his voice low, a challenge glinting in his eyes.

You lifted your chin, forcing your expression to stay composed. "I wasn't running. I was... mingling with the guests."

His lips curled into a smirk. "Right. Mingling." he offered his hand, palm open and waiting. "Well, it's time for the first dance, Mrs. Choi. You wouldn't want to disappoint our guests, would you?"

Your stomach tightened at the weight of his words. There was no getting out of this. Not without causing a scene.

With a quiet sigh, you slipped your hand into his. His fingers curled around yours, warm and firm, and you couldn't help but notice how easily they fit together.

San led you to the center of the dance floor, his hand resting gently on your waist, pulling you just close enough to make your pulse stutter.

You swallowed, your gaze dropping for a split second before meeting his again. "I was... thinking things through."

His hand tightened slightly on your waist. "Did you change your mind at the last minute?"

For a moment, you didn't answer. The question hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning. The song swelled around you, the lyrics wrapping around your heart like a bittersweet lullaby.

You knew hell would be nothing compared to your life if you didn't show up to the wedding. Not because of San or his family though, but your adoptive parents. The moment you twisted all of their plans, there would be no escape from it.

At least with San you wouldn't owe anyone anything. Instead, you'd be the one they owe something to.

San's eyes softened, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "If you had, I would've waited. I would've found another way."

Your breath hitched. His words caught you off guard -unexpected and disarming. For the first time that night, the wall you had so carefully built around yourself began to crack.

He seemed so genuine, so caring.

"I'm here now," you said, your voice steadier than you felt. "That's all that matters."

His gaze lingered on you for a long moment before he nodded. "Yeah. You're here."

The music continued, the world around you fading as you moved together in perfect synchrony. His touch was light yet grounding, his eyes never leaving yours.

As the final notes faded, San leaned in just slightly, his voice a soft murmur against your ear.

"You can keep running all you want," he said, his breath warm on your skin. "But sooner or later, you'll stop. And when you do... I'll be right here, waiting."

You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. There was no smirk, no mask, just him.

The applause from the crowd broke the spell, and you quickly stepped back, your heart thudding painfully in your chest. San let you go, but his eyes stayed on you, dark and unreadable, as if daring you to run again.

The party blurred into a collection of clinking glasses, polite congratulations, and watchful eyes. Despite the sea of guests surrounding you, you felt like you were holding your breath the entire time. So when San leaned close and whispered, "Let's get out of here," you didn't argue. If he hadn't said it, you probably would've escaped by yourself.

San sat beside you, his posture relaxed, but his eyes kept drifting toward your hand -the wedding ring glinting softly on your finger. He didn't bother hiding the fact that he was staring.

You caught him once, raising an eyebrow. "Something wrong?"

His gaze flicked up to meet yours, and for a second, something unreadable flashed across his face. "No," he said quietly. "Just getting used to the sight."

You turned your hand slightly, the light catching on the diamond. The ring was beautiful, of course -a complex design that was probably picked out by your parents and San's father rather than by either of you. It felt foreign on your finger, a constant reminder of the deal you'd made.

San's lips twitched into something that wasn't quite a smile. "It suits you," he said, his voice soft, almost contemplative.

You said nothing, turning your head to watch the city rush by through the window. San simply smirked, knowing that your silence was better than a sassy response from you.

When the car finally pulled up to the luxury hotel, you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. The driver opened the door, and you stepped out, feeling the cool night air brush against your skin. San followed close behind, his hand hovering near the small of your back but never quite touching.

You set your bag down and turned to San, folding your arms across your chest. "I'll take the bed. You can sleep on the couch."

His eyebrows lifted slightly, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "The couch?"

"It's comfortable enough," you said, nodding toward the plush, oversized sofa near the window. "Plenty of space."

San took a step closer, his expression unreadable. "We're married now, remember? Sharing the bed won't kill us."

"No." his response was immediate, his tone firm. "You're not sleeping on the couch."

"Then am I sleeping on the floor?" you arched an eyebrow "Because I won't sleep with you in the same bed".

You stared at him, daring him to argue further. But to your surprise, he sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. "Alright. I'll sleep on the couch."

His sudden surrender caught you off guard. "Just like that?"

He smirked faintly, tossing his jacket onto a chair. "I'm not going to win this argument, am I?"

You watched him for a moment, suspicious of how easily he gave in, but ultimately decided not to push it. "Good. I'll get ready for bed."

As you disappeared into the bathroom, San sank onto the couch, leaning his head back against the cushions. He glanced at the wedding ring on his own hand, turning it slowly between his fingers. For all his confidence and charm, there was something strangely grounding about the weight of the band.

As much as that wasn't the way he wanted you to be by his side, it somehow made him feel good.

When you returned, dressed in something far more comfortable than your wedding gown, San was already stretched out on the couch, one arm draped over his eyes.

"Comfortable?" you asked, standing by the bed.

He peeked at you from beneath his arm, his lips quivering into a faint smile. "I've had worse."

You rolled your eyes and climbed into bed, pulling the blankets up around you. For a few moments, silence filled the room, the only sound the soft hum of the city outside the windows.

Just as your eyes started to drift closed, you heard San's voice -quiet but clear in the darkness.

"Goodnight, Y/n."

You hesitated before responding, your voice soft. "Goodnight, San."

Neither of you said anything after that, but sleep didn't come easily. You lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling, painfully aware of his presence just a few feet away.

The distance between you felt both vast and dangerously fragile. And as the minutes stretched into hours, you couldn't help but wonder how long it would stay that way.

The morning started quietly -too quietly. You woke up, blinking against the soft morning light spilling into the room, only to find San already sitting on the couch, his phone in hand. His jacket was gone, and his dress shirt, slightly wrinkled from the night before, was unbuttoned at the collar. He looked far too relaxed for someone who had spent the night on a couch after your wedding.

You rubbed your eyes, forcing yourself to sound composed. "Morning."

A few beats of silence passed, too long to be comfortable.

"You were tossing and turning last night," San said casually, stretching his arms behind his head. "Couldn't sleep?"

"I slept just fine," you lied, standing and heading for your bag. You could feel his eyes on your every move, sharp and assessing.

"You sure? You sounded restless." his voice was smooth, laced with amusement.

You froze, giving him a flat look. "Were you listening to me sleep?"

He grinned, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "It's hard not to when someone mutters 'This is a mistake' at 2 a.m."

Your face heated. "I did not..."

"You did." his smirk widened. "I thought about waking you up to ask what you meant, but I figured I'd let you dream about it instead."

You crossed your arms, your patience wearing thin. "Thanks for your consideration, San."

"Anything for you, love," he said, drawing out the word with deliberate sarcasm.

"You've really mastered being annoying, haven't you?" you shot back, heading toward the closet.

"Years of practice," he said, standing up and stretching, his shirt riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of skin. "You'll get used to it."

You rolled your eyes, yanking open your suitcase with unnecessary force. "God forbid."

San chuckled under his breath, walking over to lean casually against the wall beside you. "You can deny it all you want, but deep down, you like this."

You turned to glare at him. "Like what?"

"This," he said, gesturing between the two of you. "The bickering. The back-and-forth. Admit it, it's fun."

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady. "San, not everything is a game. And if you think this -whatever this is- counts as fun, then we're going to have a very long, very difficult marriage."

He tilted his head, pretending to think. "A long marriage... Sounds like you're planning to stick around. It does sound really good to me."

"Oh my god," you muttered, turning on your heel. "I can't do this right now."

You stalked toward the bathroom, determined to get a moment's peace.

"You're already giving up?" he called after you. "We've been married for less than 24 hours, Y/n!"

"I'm not giving up. I'm taking a shower," you snapped, slamming the bathroom door shut.

The water was a relief, washing away some of the tension, but your frustration lingered like a storm cloud. And then, halfway through shampooing your hair, you realized something.

You forgot to bring clothes.

You let out a frustrated groan, rinsing the shampoo quickly before wrapping yourself in a towel. The last thing you wanted was to ask San for help, so you cracked the door open and peeked out.

He was still there, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, clearly waiting for your return like some smug predator.

Of course.

You squared your shoulders and stepped out, keeping your head high as you made your way toward the bag.

San's eyes found you immediately, sweeping over your damp hair and the towel wrapped tightly around you. He didn't even try to hide it.

"Forgot something?" his voice was low and teasing.

"Not a word," you warned, grabbing your clothes.

"Why bother going back?" he said softly, his voice dropping into that dangerously calm tone that always made your pulse race. "You're already here."

You tightened your grip on your towel. "Let me go, San."

His eyes darkened, his thumb brushing against your wrist in a slow, deliberate motion. "Why? What's the big deal? We're married now, remember?"

Your breath caught, but you forced your voice to stay steady. "I'm not afraid of you, if that's what you're thinking."

Your heart thundered in your chest, heat rushing to your face. "I'm not shy."

You weren't shy, but you didn't like the way your body was reacting to his voice, to his petition and his proximity. And you certainly didn't want him to see it so clearly either.

"Then go ahead," he said, his voice practically daring you.

You glared at him, yanking your wrist free. "Turn around."

"I'm not turning around" he sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. "What's the fun of it if I can't see you?"

He was trying to intimidate you, challenge you to do something he thought you wouldn't dare to do, so he could then tease you about it.

Two could play that game.

You placed the clothes on the bed, next to where he was. Taking one step back, your hands were placed on both edges of the towel, slowly undoing the knot to let it pool at your feet. San gulped thick at the sight, not expecting you to actually get naked in front of him, and even less that way, and it gave you a pinch of pride at how nervous he looked for a second.

San blinked, confused at the way your hand was stretched out for him, "The panties" you mentioned as if it were obvious.

You didn't need to ask, because San moved to the next item the moment you stepped away.

He should've seen it coming for him when he saw you lifting your feet, placing it on his thigh -way too close to a place where he needed you like crazy. Your fingers moved calmly, sliding the tight over your leg, up the curve of your knee, moving it past your thigh. Yet San could only focus on how your warmth spread over his skin like wildfire, making him feel you were touching him in places you were not.

When you finally stepped back to put on the other side of the tight, and the rest of clothes, San felt like he could breathe again, his control coming back to him when he was able to think straight -which also happened when you were fully clothed again.

You thought he'd hesitate or act shy, but instead his cocky attitude came back as he stood up, the height difference becoming obvious again as he towered over you.

"See how it isn't that difficult to be a good girl?" he muttered, just loud enough for you to hear.

You'd have thrown a shoe at him if he hadn't hidden inside the bathroom immediately after airing out that response.

He was insufferable.

The car ride to San's house was quiet, tense, and far too long for your liking. The morning sun bathed the streets in gold, but it did nothing to lighten the atmosphere inside the vehicle. San sat beside you, one arm draped lazily across the back of the seat, his eyes occasionally drifting toward you as you stared resolutely out the window.

He had been surprisingly well-behaved since the towel incident, keeping his teasing remarks to a minimum -though his occasional glances were enough to keep you on edge.

"Home sweet home," San said, stepping out of the car and holding the door open for you with a half-smirk.

You stepped out, clutching your overnight bag tightly. "Big enough so we won't have to see each other for a whole day"

"Thanks for noticing," he quipped. "Come on. I'll give you the grand tour."

You followed him up the steps, trying not to be too impressed as you took in the pristine interior-marble floors, minimalist décor, and massive windows that flooded the space with light.

"Kitchen's over there," San said, gesturing toward an open-concept area with gleaming countertops. "Dining room, living room... you know, standard rich-guy stuff."

"Right," you said dryly. "Because this is completely normal."

"Upstairs," San said, leading you to the second floor. You followed him down a hallway lined with modern artwork and huge windows, your footsteps echoing softly on the hardwood floors.

He stopped in front of a door near the end of the hallway and turned to you. "This is your room."

You blinked, caught off guard. "My... room?"

San nodded, his expression unreadable. "I figured you'd want your own space."

You indeed wouldn't need to get out there, except to eat.

"Your things are in the closet" he started. "You didn't bring a lot of things, so I guess you'll bring the rest later?"

"No, that's it" you whispered.

San stopped for a second, shocked about the fact that you only brought a medium suitcase and the bag you were carrying to pack up all of your things. It wasn't like he was expecting a full suitcase display from you, but certainly not something so minimal.

"I'll be down the hall if you need anything," San said, lingering in the doorway. His eyes softened, his earlier bravado fading just a little. "Seriously. Anything."

For a brief second, the air between you shifted. He wasn't teasing or smug. He just looked... sincere.

You hesitated, feeling the strange urge to say something more, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you gave him a small nod. "I'll be fine."

He smiled faintly, stepping back. "Alright. Settle in. I'll see you downstairs."

As he walked away, you closed the door and leaned against it, exhaling slowly.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

But then again, with San, nothing ever stayed calm for long.

The first month of marriage was nothing short of a battlefield.

It didn't take long for every small interaction to turn into a heated argument. San always had something to say -sharp and sarcastic, ready to push your buttons at every opportunity. You were no better, meeting his smug remarks with icy glares and curt responses. It became a game, a war of words and wills, with neither of you willing to surrender.

There were good moments, but they were fleeting. It started with you finding out San filled up your closet with different clothes and accessories, adding up to the small suitcase you first brought. And it slowly evolved into a laugh shared over breakfast when San nearly burned his toast. A surprisingly comfortable evening spent watching a movie in silence, where the tension seemed to ease just a little. But those moments were always overshadowed by the endless tug-of-war that followed.

It was exhausting, that constant dance of hostility and fleeting truce.

And today, you'd had enough.

The argument started in the kitchen that morning, over something as trivial as a set of misplaced car keys. It escalated far too quickly, voices rising, accusations flying.

"You always think you can control everything," you snapped, crossing your arms.

San leaned against the counter, his jaw tightening. "Control? I'm trying to help you, but you treat everything I say like it's some personal attack."

"Because it always is!" you threw up your hands in frustration. "You don't know how to back off, San! You just keep pushing and pushing... Fuck, you don't let me breathe!"

You stared at him, chest heaving, words caught in your throat. For a second, neither of you moved. The silence felt heavier than the argument itself.

Then, without a word, you turned on your heel and stormed upstairs. You needed air, space, anything to escape that suffocating cycle.

You slipped it off, the cool metal unfamiliar without the warmth of your skin beneath it. For a moment, you stared at the ring in your palm, your thoughts a chaotic swirl of emotions.

Then you set it on the dresser and walked out of the room, not bothering to look back.

San was still in the kitchen when you came back down, his back to you. You didn't say a word as you grabbed your keys from the counter and headed for the front door.

The sound of your footsteps must have caught his attention because he turned around, his eyes narrowing. "Where are you going?"

"Out," you said shortly, not slowing down.

"Without your ring?" his voice was calm, too calm. It sent a shiver down your spine.

You paused, hand on the door handle, refusing to turn around. "I need some time alone."

"And you think taking off your ring is the way to do that?" his footsteps echoed behind you, slow and deliberate. "Is this your idea of freedom?"

You finally turned to face him, meeting his eyes head-on. "What does it matter? It's not like this marriage is real anyway."

The words hung in the air, heavy and final.

For the first time in weeks, San didn't have a quick response. He just looked at you, his jaw clenched, his eyes dark with something you couldn't quite place -hurt, maybe, or anger, or both.

"If you walk out that door without it," he said quietly, "don't expect me to come looking for you."

The threat was clear, but it only made your resolve stronger.

"Good," you said, voice steady. "That's exactly what I want."

And with that, you opened the door and stepped outside, the cool air hitting your face like a slap.

As you walked toward your car, your heart pounded in your chest. Part of you expected him to follow, to stop you. But when you glanced back, the door was already closed.

Maybe he didn't care enough to stop you after all. Although you wouldn't think too much about it. The more he ignored you, the more freedom you'd have.

The alcohol warmed your throat and dulled the frustration swirling in your chest. One drink turned into two, and for the first time in weeks, you felt like you could breathe again.

"You look like you could use some company."

You glanced up to see a man standing beside you, his smile easy and confident. His eyes lingered on you just a little too long.

"Not really," you said, turning back to your drink.

"Come on, don't be like that," he said, leaning in closer. "It's just a conversation. You shouldn't be alone in a place like this."

"I'm fine," you insisted, but he didn't seem to get the hint.

The air shifted before you could say anything else, a new presence filling the space behind you.

"She's not alone."

You froze at the familiar voice, low and commanding. Turning slightly, you found yourself face-to-face with San. His dark eyes were locked on the man, his jaw tight, his entire body radiating quiet danger.

The man raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "And who are you?"

San's lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. "Her husband."

The word hung in the air like a gunshot, silencing everything around you.

The man's eyes flicked between the two of you, suddenly less confident. "Right... well, my mistake." he backed away with a muttered apology, disappearing into the crowd.

Your heart was pounding, though you weren't sure if it was from the alcohol or the way San's eyes hadn't left you once.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, trying to sound unaffected.

"I could ask you the same thing," he said, his voice calm but laced with barely restrained frustration. "But I guess taking off your ring and disappearing without a word answers that for me."

"I needed space," you said, crossing your arms. "You don't own me, San."

You rolled your eyes, the alcohol emboldening you. "So this is about your ego?"

He took a step closer, the tension crackling between you. "No. It's about the fact that I care, whether you want to believe it or not."

His words caught you off guard, leaving you momentarily speechless.

"Let's go," he said, his tone softening just a fraction. "It's late."

"I'm not going anywhere," you said stubbornly, turning back toward the bar.

San let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. "Fine. You want to be difficult? Have it your way."

Before you could react, his arm looped around your waist, and in one swift motion, he threw you over his shoulder like it was the easiest thing in the world.

"San!" you gasped, pounding your fists against his back. "Put me down!"

"Not a chance," he muttered, already weaving his way through the crowd. Heads turned, curious eyes following the scene as you squirmed in his grip. "You brought this on yourself."

"San, I swear to God..."

"You can yell all you want," he said calmly. "We're leaving."

Once outside, the cool night air hit you like a slap, but it did little to cool the heat rising in your cheeks -from anger or embarrassment, you weren't sure. San carried you all the way to his car, finally setting you down beside it.

"You're insane," you snapped, your breath coming fast as you straightened your clothes.

"Maybe," he said, stepping closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "I thought you'd have learned to love it by now."

For a moment, you stood there, caught in a standoff.

"Get in the car," he said softly, but there was no mistaking the authority in his voice.

Your pride told you to refuse, to stand your ground and make this even more difficult. But something about the intensity in his eyes made you falter.

Wordlessly, you opened the car door and got in, your pulse still racing.

San slid into the driver's seat, starting the car without another word. The ride home was silent, the air between you charged with tension. You could feel his occasional glances, the way his hands tightened around the steering wheel every time your bare finger caught the light.

The ride home was silent. He didn't speak, and neither did you. But the weight of everything unsaid filled the car, pressing down on you both.

When you pulled up in front of the building, San finally broke the silence.

"I'm not going to pretend I know what you're thinking," he said, his voice low. "But if you want to leave, really leave, just say it. I'll let you go."

You turned to look at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his eyes. It was the first time you'd seen him drop his guard like this.

But instead of answering, you opened the door and stepped out, your heart pounding in your chest.

San stayed in the car for a moment before following you inside. Neither of you said a word as you climbed the stairs, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

When you reached your room, you paused in the doorway, glancing back at him.

"Goodnight," you said softly, your voice barely audible.

For once, San didn't have a clever comeback. He just nodded, his eyes lingering on you a little longer than they should have.

"Goodnight," he echoed, his voice rough around the edges.

As you closed the door behind you, you couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between you -something neither of you was ready to admit yet.

The tension between you and San had been palpable since that night. Every word, every glance, felt like a battle -a silent war that neither of you was willing to lose. And just when you thought it couldn't get any worse, you found yourself trapped at one of his company's lavish parties, drowning in champagne and meaningless small talk.

That's when you saw him, San, standing at the center of a group of people, commanding their attention with ease. He was dressed in a sharp black suit, his hair perfectly styled, exuding the kind of confidence that made it impossible to look away.

And then you noticed her.

Your grip on your glass tightened as you watched her lean in, whispering something into his ear. To your horror, San didn't pull away. Instead, he turned toward her with a slow smile, his eyes dropping deliberately to her lips before meeting hers again.

It was a calculated move -one meant for your benefit. You knew it. He knew it.

Your stomach twisted, a mix of anger and something far more dangerous bubbling in your chest. But you refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Not here. Not in front of everyone.

"Jealous, love?"

The voice was low and teasing, right behind you. You didn't need to turn to know who it was.

"Hardly," you said, taking a sip of your drink without looking at him. "Do what you want. I couldn't care less."

"Is that so?" San stepped into your line of vision, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Because it looked like you were about two seconds away from throwing your drink at her."

"More like two seconds away from smacking this glass on your head" you finally sentenced.

"That does sound like someone who's jealous"

You forced a smile, meeting his gaze head-on. "Please. If I wanted to make a scene, you'd know it."

San chuckled, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper meant only for you. "Careful, Y/n. You might give me the wrong idea: that you actually care about me and what I do."

His smile was slow, almost predatory. "Good. Because I'd hate for you to get hurt playing a game you can't win."

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, breathless and furious.

By the time the party started winding down, you'd had enough. You grabbed your purse and made your way toward the exit, your steps quick and determined.

But before you could leave, a hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

"Running away again?" San's voice was calm, but his grip was firm.

"Let go," you said, your voice low and dangerous.

"Not until you admit it." His eyes locked onto yours, the amusement gone, replaced by something far more serious.

"Admit what?"

"That you care," he said simply.

You yanked your wrist free, your eyes burning with fury. "You're unbelievable."

"And yet, here you are," San said softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "Still standing in front of me". You didn't know when he stepped so close that your chests were pressed together and your breaths were mixing between you two "I'm only yours, love. You just need to ask me, and I'll declare to you my love without thinking twice".

For a moment, the world around you seemed to fade, the party noise a distant hum. You hated how close he was, how easily he could get under your skin.

But you refused to give him what he wanted. Not tonight.

Without another word, you turned and walked away, ignoring the way your heart was pounding in your chest.

The car ride back was suffocatingly quiet. The air between you felt like a loaded gun, ready to go off at the slightest provocation. San's hands rested on the steering wheel, his jaw clenched, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. You sat stiffly in the passenger seat, arms crossed, staring out the window in stubborn silence.

But the sound of his footsteps trailing behind you, steady and deliberate, made your pulse quicken.

You barely made it inside when San's voice cut through the silence.

"Care to explain what that little stunt at the party was all about?" his tone was deceptively calm, but the underlying tension was unmistakable.

You spun around, glaring at him. "Are you seriously accusing me of something after what you pulled tonight? Flirting with her right in front of me?"

San smirked, stepping closer. "You noticed."

"Of course I noticed!" you snapped, your voice rising. "You made sure I would."

He shrugged, his eyes gleaming with something dangerous. "Maybe. But you didn't have to leave the party like that, running off again like you always do. It's getting old, Y/n."

"Maybe it's because I can't stand being around you," you shot back, your voice trembling slightly with the force of your anger. "Did you think of that?"

San tilted his head, studying you. "No," he said quietly, stepping even closer until there was barely any space between you. "I think you left because it bothered you. Because for once, you didn't have control, and it drove you crazy."

Your breath hitched, but you refused to back down. "You think too highly of yourself."

"Do I?" his voice was a whisper now, low and deliberate, each word wrapping around you like a challenge. "Then why are you shaking?"

You hated him for being right. Hated how easily he could strip away every layer of defense you had built.

"I'm not..."

"You are," he interrupted, his hand brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. "And it's not because you're angry. It's because you feel something."

You opened your mouth to protest, but no words came out.

His eyes dropped to your lips for the briefest moment before locking onto yours again. "Tell me I'm wrong, and I'll back off," he said softly. "Tell me you don't feel anything, and I'll stop."

You stared at him, your heart pounding so hard it was almost painful.

But you couldn't say it.

The words wouldn't come.

San's smile was slow and triumphant. "That's what I thought."

He turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, breathless and furious, your skin still burning from his touch.

"You're insufferable," you called after him, but your voice wavered, the heat of your frustration blending with something far more dangerous.

San stopped mid-step, his back still to you. For a split second, you thought he'd ignore you, that he'd let you stew in your own whirlwind of emotions.

"You know what's really insufferable?" his voice was low, almost a growl. "The way you keep running. The way you keep fighting me when we both know exactly how this will end."

Your breath caught in your throat as he came to a stop just inches from you, his body radiating warmth, his presence overwhelming.

"I'm not running," you said, though it sounded more like a whisper than the firm declaration you intended.

His hand reached out, fingers brushing against your jaw, tilting your face up toward him. His touch was light, almost teasing, but it sent a jolt of heat racing through you.

It felt better than anything neither of you could've ever imagined. It wasn't just a kiss -it was a battle, a collision of everything you didn't say, everything you'd tried to ignore.

You hated him for making you feel this way, for always knowing how to push you to the edge and catch you before you fell.

But at that moment, you couldn't bring yourself to care.

When you finally pulled back, your breaths were ragged, his forehead resting against yours. His eyes searched yours, dark and unreadable, his chest rising and falling in time with yours.

"Say it," San whispered, his voice rough and breathless. "Say you don't feel anything."

You stayed silent, your lips still tingling from his kiss.

But the way your hands lingered on his chest, the way your body leaned into his, spoke louder than any words ever could.

San broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck again, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. You arched my back, a soft sigh escaping your lips, when his fingers brushed against the little skin that was shown off through the cleavage of your dress. It frustrated you, but it also felt so good the way your body responded to his touch without a resistance, your nipples hardening against the fabric of your bra, your entrance clenching around nothing as you kept waiting to feel him inside you.

His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you, his breath hitching. You were definitely better than he could've ever imagined. No light pajamas would ever compare to the vision in front of him.

You reached for the hem of his black shirt, pulling from the buttons to reveal his toned chest. San had to hold back the growl in his throat when you ran your fingers over the muscles, feeling the heat of his skin, making him sure your fingerprints were burning every inch you were moving through.

He wasn't going to let you take control so easily though.

San slipped the straps of your bra off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. He took his time, exploring every inch of your body with his mouth and hands. He made you squirm beneath him, he filled your head with pleas you never thought would ever be aimed at him, your body was on fire for him.

And hell, if that image wasn't the best sight ever...

He earned another moan from you, and his cock twitched in the air against your body once more.

"Who do you belong to, Y/n? Who owns you now?" his voice was thick and raspy as he whispered. His voice was a mix of cockiness and need to prove you always belonged to him.

The moment you tried to move your head forward to rest on his shoulder, his fingers wrapped around your throat and stuck your head against the wood to keep your eyes fixed on him.

You didn't know what to do with your arms, how to keep yourself on your feet, but you did know you had to keep your eyes fixed on him.

Your lips were parted when his wet fingers slid through them, and you blindly obeyed, closing your mouth around his digits to lick every drop of his work of art. San barely gave you time to let go of them before his lips crashed against yours again, his tongue looking out for yours to taste you directly on it.

You were so addictive.

San picked you up effortlessly, humming at your legs wrapping around his waist, as he made his way to his bedroom.

His words, the idea, the look in his eyes... all of them influenced you to finally nod.

"You feel so good," he groaned, his forehead resting against yours. "So tight and wet." he rubbed his nose on yours. "It was really worth it to wait for you".

You clung to him, your nails digging into his back. "Harder," you whispered, your body aching for more.

The weeks after that night were nothing like the stormy start of your marriage. Slowly, without even realizing it, you began to lower your defenses. San softened in his own way, his sharp-edged words losing their sting, replaced by warm glances and lingering touches.

But despite the glamour, something felt off. San was different -detached, colder than usual, like the man you first met. He didn't seem to notice your growing unease.

Later that evening, after slipping away for a moment to get some air, you made your way down a quieter hallway in the building. As you rounded a corner, voices stopped you in your tracks.

It was San's.

"You're really settling into this husband role, huh?" the voice was familiar -Wooyoung’'s, you realized after a second.

His tone was light and teasing, but it was what came next that made your blood run cold.

San let out a low chuckle. "Don't get carried away. This marriage means nothing. It was a deal, plain and simple. I finally got what I wanted"

There was a pause, followed by the sound of a glass clinking.

"And the rest?" Wooyoung asked, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "Sleeping with her?"

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart hammering painfully in your chest.

"That's just part of the game," San said casually, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Keeping her close keeps everything in control. She's predictable now. She's exactly where I need her."

The sound of their laughter echoed down the hallway, cutting into you like a blade.

You turned and walked away before they could notice you, your steps quick and unsteady. Your chest ached, a painful mix of anger and heartbreak constricting your lungs.

By the time you reached the main hall, the noise of the party felt like a distant hum, your surroundings spinning as you tried to catch your breath.

You thought you had started to know him. You thought maybe, just maybe, there was something real between you.

But you were wrong.

You were nothing more than a pawn in his game -a game you never agreed to play.

The rest of the night at the party, you avoided him like the plague, your attitude a huge contrast to how you behaved when the night had started. Whenever San tried to approach you, you found an excuse to step away -chatting with guests, refreshing your drink, even pretending to admire the floral arrangements like they were the most fascinating thing in the world.

"Y/n" his voice caught you off guard as you lingered near the exit, your hand brushing the stem of an untouched champagne flute. San's dark eyes studied you, his brow furrowed in concern. "What's going on? You've been distant all night."

"I'm just tired," you said flatly, forcing a tight smile. "It's been a long day."

His frown deepened, but he didn't press further. Not yet.

The ride home was quiet -tense in a way that made the air between you feel suffocating. San sat beside you, his eyes occasionally flicking toward you, as if waiting for you to explain what was wrong. But you kept your gaze fixed out the window, your thoughts swirling in chaos.

Once you were back home, you made a beeline for the stairs, wanting nothing more than to put distance between you as you closed yourself back in your room.

"Y/n" his voice was sharp now, demanding. You stopped halfway up the stairs, your hand gripping the banister tightly. "Talk to me. What's going on?"

You turned slowly, meeting his gaze. The man you had once started to trust, the one who had held you so tenderly just nights ago, now felt like a stranger.

"I want a divorce."

The words fell from your lips with a finality that hung heavy in the air.

San froze, his eyes widening for a split second before narrowing dangerously. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me," you said, your voice calm despite the storm raging inside you. "You finally got what you wanted. You're head of the company now. There's no need to keep up this farce anymore."

His jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "Is that what you think? That this was all just some business arrangement, and now it's over?"

"Isn't it?" you shot back, your voice rising. "You've gotten everything you wanted, San. There's no point in pretending anymore."

"You're unbelievable," he growled, stepping closer. "You want to throw everything away just like that? After everything we've been through?"

You laughed bitterly. "What exactly have we been through, San? Lies? Manipulation? This marriage was never real. It was just a means to an end for you."

His eyes darkened, his lips pressing into a thin line. "And what if it wasn't?"

You crossed your arms, refusing to let him sway you. "It doesn't matter. I'm done."

"You're not done," he said, his voice low and dangerously calm. "You don't get to decide that impulsively."

"It's not an impulse," you snapped. "This was part of our deal since the beginning. I've made up my mind."

San's eyes burned with fury, but beneath it, there was something else -something raw and unguarded. "And when exactly did you make up your mind about it, huh?" he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I think it's better for both of us," you said, ignoring the way your heart clenched at the look in his eyes.

But San wasn't having it. His hand gripped the banister beside you, his body blocking your path. "No," he said firmly. "We're not done. Not until I say we are. And you're not leaving," San said, his voice steady but barely restrained, his body now fully blocking your path. His gaze locked onto yours, fierce and unrelenting.

"Move, San," you said through gritted teeth, trying to push past him. "I'm done having this conversation."

His hand shot out, gripping your wrist -not hard, but firm enough to keep you from walking away. "No. We're going to finish this right here"

You glared at him, your pulse racing. "What's the point? You made it clear I was just a means to an end. Now that you're head of the company, what reason is there for us to stay married?"

"Because this isn't just about the company!" San snapped, his voice rising, frustration boiling over. His chest heaved with each breath, and for the first time, he looked genuinely unhinged, like he was losing control of everything he'd carefully built.

You yanked your wrist free, your eyes burning with unshed tears. "Then what is it about? What part of this marriage was real to you? Tell me!"

His silence was deafening. His jaw clenched, his eyes searching your face for something -anything. But no words came.

Your heart twisted painfully in your chest, and you laughed bitterly, shaking your head. "Exactly. You can't even answer that."

San's eyes darkened, his frustration tipping into something dangerously possessive. "You really want to know what's real?" he said, stepping closer until there was barely an inch of space between you. "You." his voice was low, his eyes burning into yours. "Every damn second with you was real"

But for some reason, those words that night felt like the most painful stab at your chest. If there was something clear to you that night, it was that San never really cared for you, but his own control over you. That idea alone made your head spin, trying to decipher if all of his words in that moment were part of the act as well.

His proximity sent a jolt of heat through you, but you refused to back down. "Words mean nothing, San. Actions do."

"Then watch me," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart thundered in your chest, and for a fleeting moment, you believed him. You believed every word, every touch. But the sting of his earlier betrayal still lingered, refusing to let go.

"I can't do this," you whispered, your voice breaking. "Not like this".

Not when you couldn’t trust him, or know what he was saying was real or not. Not knowing when he was playing with you or showing off his feelings.

It was too much.

San's grip on you tightened, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "Yes, you can. You're not leaving."

You were lost in thought when the sound of the front door slamming snapped you back to reality. Heavy footsteps echoed down the hall, growing louder until San appeared in the doorway, his expression dark and unreadable.

Without a word, he reached into his coat and pulled out a stack of papers. He strode over to you and threw them onto the counter in front of you, the crisp white pages fanning out across the surface.

Your heart stopped for a second as you glanced down at them: "Divorce Agreement". Signed.

"You wanted this, right?" San said, his voice cold and biting. "There. You've got it. Congratulations, you're free."

"San, I..."

Your chest tightened, and for a moment, you struggled to find your voice. "You think this is what I want?" you finally said, your voice trembling.

"Isn't it?" he shot back, his eyes narrowing. "You were the one who asked for the divorce. I'm just making it easy for you."

You swallowed hard, your throat burning. "You're unbelievable."

San crossed his arms, leaning against the counter with a bitter smirk. "No, what's unbelievable is that you think you can just walk in and out of my life whenever you want. You're the one who pushed me away, Y/n. I'm just giving you the freedom you begged for."

"Don't you dare act like you're some kind of victim here," you snapped, rising to your feet. "You lied to me, acting like you cared, like you were into me. You said you were after me long before all of this happened... Bullshit! You used me for your business, just like you admitted to Wooyoung. But I was dumb as fuck to believe we were more than that".

San laughed, but it was a hollow, bitter sound. "You really think that's all you are to me?"

"Isn't it?" you challenged, your heart pounding so hard it hurt. "Tell me I'm wrong."

The silence that followed was deafening. His jaw clenched, his eyes searching yours for a long, agonizing moment. Then, slowly, he stepped back, his expression hardening.

"You already made up your mind," he said quietly. "So what's the point in convincing you otherwise?"

"Fine," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "If that's how you want it."

He nodded once, his face devoid of emotion. "It's what you wanted, remember?"

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