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vrystalius · 11 days ago

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Not saying “I love you“ back to the Squid game men.

How will they react if you don‘t say it back? In what scenario would they not say it back to you?

Pairing: The Recruiter, Thanos, Nam-gyu, Dae-ho, Gi-hun, In-ho x gn!reader

Summary: Them not saying “I love you“, their reaction to you not saying “I love you“

Genre: fluff, a lil bit of angst sprinkled on top

If you’re interested, here’s more fluff! Calling the Squid Game men some weird petnames and their reaction to it!

(Pre-Squid game)

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

Gong Yoo // The Recruiter // The Salesman

♡— Him not saying I love you…

It barely ever happens, really. He adores everything about you, from your face, voice, body and the ground you walk on; that man is ready to worship you like a devoted follower would to the most merciful goddess. Therefor he would always be aware of how to make your day a little better, even if it‘s just a small “I love you” or a gentle kiss here and there.

The first thing you hear from him in the morning is a groggy voice mumbling a small “Good morning love...” into your ear while warm kisses were trailed down your back.

While standing in the kitchen and searching the fridge for any signs of a tasty breakfast, a small “I love you, I‘ll be back later!“ would echo slightly through the apartment as the front door closed.

Once, he did forget to say his usual I love you on the way out. He thought about how he possibly could forget? You‘re probably overthinking everything now and think what you might‘ve done wrong or do to offend him. You didn‘t, though! He was just too caught up in perfecting his appearance because his damn hair refused to obey and submit to his meticulous styling.

The poor man was almost scared to come home. As some sort of peace offering, he bought some of your favorite take-out food alongside some dessert, flowers and a new bracelet he thought you might like. Anything to try and make you know that he does really love you.

“Apologies, it completely slipped my mind. It will never happen again my sunshine. I love you.”

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you back…

His face may be neutral and his expressions calculated but his features soften up immensely when you show even an ounce of affection. His smirk shifts into a dreamy smile, the crinkles around his mouth shifting and becoming bigger, his eyes twinkling just a little. He just can’t suppress when you even look at him.

Your kisses and words energise him, gift him life, so whenever you don’t give him that little boost of dopamine, he gets visibly more tense in a way.

The silence that followed after his usual “I love you my darling, I’ll be back later!” was almost eerie to him. He stuck his head back into the kitchen to check if you even heard him. You glanced back at him for a moment and gave your husband a dismissive head nod. So you did hear him?

Silently, he left the apartment and went on with his usual day during that time of the year. For some reason, today he is especially looking forward to slap his elders for loosing a damn children’s game. His face remained neutral and had his usual smirk on his face, but deep inside, he’s offended, confused, worried, stressed; all the negative emotions someone can feel after their spouse doesn’t reincorporate ones affection.

Do you want a divorce? Because hell no, he’d never let you go no matter how hard you

But once he got a little text message on his phone that read a simple: “Need cuddles in bed later pls. Got some snacks too. Love you.”, all of his worries washed away in an instant. You probably were still too sleepy to answer this morning.

A smile spread over his face as he thought about slipping into your arms tonight. Isn’t it ridiculous how he melt like putty in your hands?

“You forgot something this morning and it did worry me a lot. But it doesn’t matter, it’s silly anyway.”

Thanos // Su-bong // Player 230

♡— Him not saying I love you…

It’s actually quite rare to hear Thanos say “I love you” word for word. He still feels awkward committing himself to the relationship you have and those three magic words feel so heavy on his tongue, so he’ll rephrase them to suit his level of comfort. “Love ya”, “Thanos loves you” and “Me too” are his ways to dodge the action to reincorporate those sweets words you shower him with.

Thanos only really says “I love you” if you two are alone, sober and you holding him in your arms. To be cradled by someone he admires, cares and loves so much makes him want to cry for some reason, but he suppresses those emotions and instead buries his face in your shoulder as your hand soothingly runs up and down his back.

Those are the times you hear a small “I love you…” being mumbled against your warm skin.

So quiet it’s almost unnoticeable, yet it was there. You know Su-bong needs time to get used to everything, so you’ll settle with a small audio message-rap in reply to your usual “I love you” text message.

“Back to the kitty ‘cause she kinda pretty, I can’t stop looking at her ti- ti- ti-face.. Anyways, thinking of you babygirl. Iloveyatoo.” (You barely caught him saying this the way how quietly he mumbled it into the mic)

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you back…

It’s fine. It’s cool. You don’t have to reassure him every day that you love him, it’s totally fine. You still love him like you did the day before.

It causes a deep panic inside of Thanos when you don’t give him his usual “I love you” text in the morning after he had woken up. He kept checking his phone like a madman, while he was brushing his teeth, peeking his arm and head out of the shower in the middle of shampooing, staring at his text messages while microwaving himself an convenience store meal. Nothing.

Not wanting to reach out first and appear clingy, he decided to write you like he is not having a full blown eternal panic attack. A small voice message here, a picture of his food there, a selfie from the bottom to show off his double chin, anything really.

You replied like normal but still, his eyes searched for the three key words. I. Love. You.

Thanos doesn’t want to admit to himself or to anyone for that matter that your calls, texts, hell, you coming over is like the most addictive drug to him. And he had his share of all kinds of colourful drugs.

His foot was nervously tapping the ground while his finger kept ringing your poor doorbell until you were forced to answer. He gave you a close look up and down, his lips formed into a pout of sorts.

“You okay? You didn’t text me you love me this morning. It’s totally cool and all but like… do you want to break up with me or something?”

Nam-gyu // Player 124

♡— Him not saying I love you…

Similar to Thanos, at first, Nam-gyu barely ever told you how much he loved you, liked you even. He just assumed you already knew and his actions were enough. A small side hug there and ruffling your hair here had to be enough for the rest of the week anyway.

He is guarded, afraid of commitment and to be frank in belief that you’re using him for the longest of time. Maybe you’re just “dating” him to get access to high-end drugs, all kinds of clubs or whatever else reason there is there to date him but for love.

You had to say those three magic words first for him to get comfortable with the thought that you are actually just want to date and love him. It came to him in the middle of a night shift at a random club he was supposed to promote. A moment of enlightenment.

Nam-gyu hid in a bathroom stall with his phone and ignored whatever the couple was doing next door, writing you a whole paragraph about what he was thinking, feeling, before deleting everything again because he thought he’d come off as some kind of pussy if he’d sent that.

His first time telling you how much he loved you was at your place. A casual evening watching some random movie you picked out while being arms deep in a bag of chips and dressed like a homeless person, Nam-gyu was staring up at you as if you were the most beautiful person in the universe even during this ungraceful moment of yours, admiring you in silence until finally…

“I love you.”

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you…

Did he fuck up again? Do or say something wrong? Don’t you love him anymore? Was there someone else?? His thoughts go ballistic as he stared at the screen of his phone with a deadpan-expression, trying to shake the crippling fear and nervousness off while looking nonchalant.

Nam-gyu’s finger kept hovering over the call button to check on you in case something happened because there could be a whole other person talking to him by how there were no affirmations at all.

He doesn’t want to appear clingy or too attached to you as that may scare you off or even disgust you, so Nam-gyu’s casually mention that one time you didn’t say “I love you” while fidgeting with his ring, trying to appear indifferent about it while intensely watching your facial expression shift to try and detect if you’re lying about your reasoning or not.

Your boyfriend is afraid to not be good enough, too much, too little. Your little affirmations give him reassurance, every day a little more until he’s full convinced that you do really, really love him.

“Hey, uhhh. Did you forget anything today?… No? You sure? Mkay.”

Dae-ho // Player 388

♡— Him not saying I love you…

Never happens. Either he is dead and not able to reply to you or already said it multiple times throughout the day. Dae-ho has separation anxiety and gets nervous when he doesn’t have you in line of his sight or not around him in general, that’s why he always tells you how much he loves you whenever he can.

Off to the bathroom? I love you. Bringing the trash out? I love you. Getting dressed? You’re gorgeous and I love you. You could be simply existing and Dae-ho would bury his face in your neck and mumble a soft I love you into your warm skin, his lips planting a soft kiss here and there.

Dae-ho is just a little scared about saying his usual affirmation in front of his family, mostly his father. He’s a very affectionate and physical man but he still wants to look like the tough-marine-son his dad wants to see.

His sisters know better though, they see how their brother’s eyes twinkle in delight when you help his mom out in the kitchen with the dinner.

He does make it up to you after coming home though. Your boyfriend will stuff the leftovers his mom gave him into the microwave and usher to you made yourself comfortable on the couch while he makes some preparations to completely pamper you for the rest of the evening.

Sometimes Dae-ho’ll even try to flirt a little but he’s still a little awkward in that department.

“Hey, do you want some snacks with that? A drink? O-Or am I enough of a snack…?”

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you…

Every time Dae-ho tells you that he loves you, you always reply with equal enthusiasm. How could you not? That golden retriever of a man gets that almost childish smile of his whenever you kiss his cheek or just tell him that he looks handsome today.

Once, you tested how he’d react when you don’t give him his hourly dose of dopamine by deflecting or ignoring his touches.

As his arms securely snaked around your waist and gently pulled you against his torso, you paid him no mind and continued to stir the ramen in the food container. He watched the noodles move in circles and gave your waist a gentle poke, trying to pull your attention to him. Dae-ho’s eyes slowly dimmed and the edges of his smile turned downwards.

The silence made him seriously nervous. You could feel his rapidly increasing heartbeat drum against your back.

“Hey… is everything okay? Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry. Can you talk to me?…”

Gi-hun // Player 456 (post s1)

♡— Him not saying I love you…

Gi-hun always reassures you of his love, even during arguments. He wants you to know that he cherishes and loves you for the rest of his life and that you are his everything. Whenever he doesn’t say I love you, something must’ve happened.

He has been missing for a whole week and you had no idea where your boyfriend went. Gi-hun didn’t leave a note, a voice mail, no nothing!

And after he returned and suddenly began giving you expensive gifts, the same boyfriend that used to ask you for money to get himself an convenience store dinner, now began buying you new headphones, bracelet and whatever else you even eyed.

It was nice, sure, but you were more worried about his mental state. He was paranoid and quiet, kept checking his whole body for some kind of tracker and barely ever spoke what was on his mind. Gi-hun began having panic attacks and you were barely able to leave his side because of how terrified he was to leave you alone.

He barely touched you, gave you kisses or affection. He changed after whatever happened during that week he went missing.

While running your fingers through his hair, trying to make him fall asleep after being awake for two days straight, he sleepily stared up at you through his dyed-red hair. His voice was quiet, broken almost.

“I’m sorry. Please… know that I love you. I love you so much.. Don’t leave me, please… please...”

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you back…

Your boyfriend called out to you but you didn’t quite hear what he said, so you replied with an “yeah!” and just hoped that that’s an appropriate response to whatever he tried to tell or ask you. It wasn’t.

Gi-hun stood there for a couple of moments, waiting on your reply to yelling “I love you!” across the whole apartment. When nothing came, he didn’t call out to you again. You were probably busy with something or don’t want him with your right now, he gets that.

Later though, thoughts of self-doubt began to cook up inside his mind. As he bit all his nails to shreds he overthought about how you had enough of him now. Maybe you are falling out of love now after how the death games fucked up his mind and body. You’re surely fed up with his paranoia and secretive behaviour, how much he has been obsession over finding a weird salesman. Surely.

The metallic taste that spread inside his mouth after biting the skin surrounding his nails began to open and bleed finally pulled Gi-hun out of his self-destructive thoughts that continued to circle like a toy train. Picking up his throwaway phone and choosing the one contact he saved on every single burner phone he had as “Reason to smile ❤️” and pressing the call button.

“Gi-hun? What’s wrong?” Your voice forced a small smile to form on his face. He hesitated

“Hey. Just wanted to ask if I should bring some take out home tonight. That’s all.”

In-ho // The Frontman // Player 001

♡— Him not saying I love you…

It’s purely just to tease you. When bored, In-ho will make you his greatest entertainment.

He likes making you annoyed and flustered, so he’ll intentionally ignore you just to make you react and pout at him adorably while he was trying so hard to keep his stone cold face and not break into a shit-eating grin and maybe even pull on your cheek to make you whine even more.

In-ho adores your whole being and cherishes all of your affections, so he’ll let himself get showered in them any tome he can.

Expect you to he cuddled up on his lap while he was leaning back in the leather chair, mumbling a complaint about how you covered his whole face in kisses but managed to miss the bridge of his nose. He will not allow you to move off his lap until you covered his whole face in kisses again as compensation for that mistake of yours.

So, In-ho’ll intentionally not give you affection so you pay even more attention to him. He is like a cat in that way weirdly enough.

Once you finally break his facade, the flood gates will open and you will be showered, bathed, drowned in his affection, physical and verbal.

“Fine. I’ll say it just because you’ve been so good to me today. I love you, my dearest, lovely darling.”

˚✧₊⁎⁺˳

♡— You not saying I love you back…

In-ho has a dedicated frequency on his walkie-talkie for you, so he can call in and ask you to come to his office for a kiss that cannot wait, to inform you that he is in the bedroom and retiring for the day or just to tell you that he loves you randomly throughout the day.

Of course, you’d always reply back with your own gadget, but to pay back his infinite teasing he has done to you, you decided to ignore him the way he sometimes does to you. Payback.

Your husband called into your frequency. “Dove, are you free right now? Come to my office, I miss you.” and so your game begins. You simply ignored his request and continued getting comfortable in your bed and all the sheets surrounding you, grinning to yourself as you awaited the next time In-ho calls in again, for which you don’t have to wait long for.

“Darling, I am waiting. Do you want me to send someone to pick you up?” Your grin widened as you heard how impatient he was slowly getting with the lack of your response. “I can see you in the bedroom.” That one caught you off guard. Did he install cameras in your shared bedroom??

Almost on cue, your bedroom door opened, revealing the masked Frontman. His shoulders were tense and you could feel his intense state through the mask. You stared back, not expecting how quickly your husband would cave in and visit you himself. Innocently, you batted your lashes at him.

In-ho slipped his mask off and carelessly tossed it on the nightstand. “Why are you ignoring me? Are you upset or just moody?” Unimpressed, you silently glared at him. He gave you an equally uninterested look and leaned down to your face to give you a small peck on your cheek. “Not enough. More.”

A chuckle escaped his lips as his lips cracked into a smile.

“Demanding, aren’t we? Fine. As you wish.”

💠

Author’s note. Thank you for reading <3

Watch me announce that I’m going to post In-ho’s yandere profile and proceed to get hit with the most ungodly group-assignment in Chemistry. Anyways, take this as an apology! Had to write a little fluff for them since the only thing I’m finding is smut 🙏😭 I’m not complaining but this fluff prompt came to me like a truck during a class of mine. It was originally inspired by this post and I made a similar one before for the Demon Slayer hashira. Check it out if you’re interested!!

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

Take care of yourselves <33

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inkskinned · 1 year ago

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i think a lot about exactly 1 thing from the roman empire: the concept of bread and circus. the idea was that if your population was fed and entertained, they wouldn't revolt. you are asking us to give up our one small life, is the thing - for under 15 dollars an hour.

what would that buy, even. i am trading weekends and late nights and my back health. i am trading slow mornings and long walks and cortisol levels. i am trading sleep and silence and peace. for ... this. for what barely-covers-rent.

life really is more expensive right now. you aren't making that up. i make almost 3 times what i did 5 years ago, and despite an incredibly equal series of bills - i am still struggling. the most expensive line item i added was to own a dog. the money is just evaporating.

we were okay with it because it's a cost-benefit analysis. i could handle the customer harassment and standing all day and the manager's constantly changing temperament - i was coming home to hope, and my life planned in a blue envelope. three hours would buy me my dog's food for a month. i can give up three hours for him, for his shiny coat and wide, happy mouth. three days could be a new mattress, if i was thrifty. if i really scrimped and saved, we could maybe afford a trip into the city.

recently i cried in the car about the price of groceries.

business majors will be mad at me, but my most inflammatory opinion is that people should never be valued at the same place as products. your staff should not be a series of numbers in an excel sheet that you can just "replace" whenever you need something at that moment. your staff should be people, end of sentence.

it feels like someone somewhere is playing a very bad video game. like my life is a toy. like someone opened an app on their phone and hired me in diner dash ultra. they don't need to pay me well or treat me alright - they can always just show me the door. there is always someone more desperate, always someone more willing.

but i go to work and know i could save for years and not afford housing. i am never going to own my own home, most likely. i have no idea how to afford her ring, much less the wedding. my dog doesn't have his own yard. everything i love is on subscription. if i lose my job, i have no "nest egg" to catch my falling.

this thin life - they want me to give up summer for it. to open my mouth and throat and swallow the horrible hours and counted keystrokes. they want me to give up mountains and any non-federal holiday. to give up snow days. to give up talking to my mom whenever i want. to give up visiting the ocean and hearing the waves.

bread and circus worked for a while, actually. it was the kind of plan that would probably now be denounced by republicans as socialist commie liberal pronoun bullshit.

but sometimes i wonder if we should point them to the part of the history book that says: it worked until it didn't.

#spilled ink #warm up #writeblr #i have a good job please shut the fuck up before telling me to get a better job #girl i have vision and dental.#if u blame the victim that's wild. do u know about economic systems

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bunnis-monsters · 19 days ago

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NSFW

a/n: another kofi request. This time it’s an Anatolian guard dog smut fic! Enjoy ^^

You stood out in the snow, coffee in hand as you waited by the door of the hybrid work agency. It was nice that there was somewhere that specifically hired out hybrids who were in need of work, because it helped everyone.

Lately, your apartment building had been the victim of multiple robberies, and each time the person that got robbed was closer and closer to you. Last week, your neighbor just two doors down had their entire apartment emptied out, leaving only the old food in the fridge and some lint.

So safe to say you were afraid you were going to be next.

Several of your friends suggested getting a security system, but your neighbor had one and it did nothing. No, you needed to go another route.

“Are you (Name)?”

You jumped, neatly slipping on the slick, icy sidewalk when you heard a voice behind you. Before you could fall, a hand grabbed your arm and steadied you.

When you turned, you spotted a tall man, a pair of fluffy, black dog ears. He wore a dark suit, his gloved hand pulling back from your arm once you regained your balance.

“Y-yes, I am. And you are..?”

“The guard dog you hired, my name is Duke.”

That made sense, he even had a lanyard with his name and role on it. “Ah… okay. My apartment is nearby, I already have one of the rooms ready for you. I have a few errands I have to run first though.”

Duke nodded, staying by your side as you walked. “I will accompany you.”

For the next few weeks, you had never felt safer in your life. Everywhere you went, Duke was always nearby, inspecting the area and making sure no one even thought of interrupting your peace.

Just a few days ago you were approached by a handsome looking man who claimed to have picked up something you dropped, but Duke was quick to step in front of you and twist the guy’s arm back.

“He’s got bad intentions, I can just sense it.”

For a moment you were in shock. Of course you knew Duke was big and strong, but the entire time he’d been guarding you he hadn’t shown his true strength. All he had to do was stand around you looking intimidating.

“D-Duke, he’s not-“

A handkerchief fell from the man’s pocket, and before you could pick it up Duke growled. “Don’t touch it!”

You pulled back your hand as if it had been burned, your cheeks growing hot with embarrassment and a bit of… arousal.

“It’s laced. The second you touch it you’ll start feeling dizzy. This guy has probably hurt a ton of girls using this method.”

You sat in Duke’s car as he handed the guy into the police station, still feeling a bit hot and bothered. Honestly, you were super grateful for and… a bit flustered by his protective nature.

From Duke’s pov, he had plans for you the moment h you met him. From your soft figure to your need for a protector, you were perfect.

Duke wanted a mate, and he bonded with you almost instantly. Getting to stand by and keep you safe all day aroused him to no end, and between shifts he spent most of his time fucking his hand, wanting more than anything to be thrusting into you instead.

That’s why when he smelled your arousal upon entering his car, Duke was quick to get you back to your apartment.

A part of him knew that it was unprofessional to be pushing you up against a wall and sniffing at you like a beast before covering your neck in hickeys, but he couldn’t care less.

You smelled too damn good, and he was sick and tired of everyone else looking at you like you didn’t belong to him already. “My little mate… getting all worked up, need to let off some steam, hmm?”

He set you on the bed before pushing you onto your belly, lifting your hips before lightly spanking your cunt. “Naughty thing. I’ve got to keep you safe, can’t have you all wet out there when every hybrid can smell your arousal from ten miles away.”

Duke was nearly twice your size, looming over you as his cock pressed against your tight hole. He did his best to prep you, pumping two fingers, then three in and out of your sopping wet cunt before he couldn’t take it anymore.

He pushed into you, letting out a growl when you whimpered and squirmed. “Easy, you can take it… be a good girl for me, okay? My sweet girl…”

Taking him wasn’t easy at all, in fact it took a minute for you to relax enough for Duke to even move, but once you eased up he began thrusting into you like a wild animal.

It made you see stars, the way he was fucking you stipid. You felt like you were losing yourself in each thrust, your hips moving desperately to meet his.

“G-gonna cum!”

When he knotted you after your fat cunt clenched around him, you truly understood what love was. While he stuffed you full, he caged your body under his, as if trying to shield you from the cruel and nasty world. You were just a sweet thing and he couldn’t stand the thought of anything taking you away from him.

He was so gentle, like a dog tending to the sheep he guarded. Duke groomed you and stayed inside of you for a long time, his curled tail wagging lazily.

“I’m gonna take care of you, okay? Don’t even have to pay me. You’re my mate now, got it?”

————————

NSFW TAGLIST: @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko @soapybabyboop @anonymouskiwi

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starlitscars · 5 months ago

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Made of ice

Jackson era! Joel Miller x F! Reader

Summary: One stormy night in the safety of Wyoming, it occurs to Joel that even though life has turned his heart into a slab of ice, there's a soft, melting spot buried deep inside... Only reserved for you.

Word count: 5.2k

Masterlist

Tags/warnings: MDNI, NSFW, implied age gap, canon-typical violence, Joel Miller needs his own warning, protective! Joel, soft! Joel, angst, fluff, smut, finger sucking, fingering, pet names, praise kink, language, no use of y/n, soft dom! Joel, negative thoughts, dea*h wish, self-doubt, self-confidence issues, Joel is a sweetheart here (but he doesn't think he's worthy of peace), rain, lots of rain, lightning, stormy weather, kinda established relationship, let me know if a tag has gone unnoticed.

Author's note: This is my very first attempt at writing for Joel Miller. I've had the idea in my mind for a few weeks now and it's hard to resist when it comes to him (did I say Pedro Pascal?) So I hope the details are accurate and if you decide to read this one shot, I hope you enjoy it as much as I did while writing it. If you want to be mutuals, I'll be more than glad <3

Divider by: saradika-graphics

Made of ice

You should've seen what you made of him.

The calm, slow beats in his chest are strikingly different from how he remembers them. In fact, he vaguely recalls the way those racing, dreadful patterns had carved themselves into his memory. With a rigid heart made of ice, it was nearly impossible to find the pulse in him, even at his most frightened, disappointed state.

Joel used to walk into the face of danger with a rifle clutched in his dying grip, a life to save and thousands to destroy, and in all those moments any sign of life was nonexistent in him. There used to be rage, hatred, regret, and frustration... Oh lots of frustration, running through the veins in his body. He used to walk, talk, and breathe. But he wasn't alive.

Now he doesn't find it in himself to call it miracle. But somewhere between the lines, you happened. You happened and fuelled the dying fire in the far corner of his heart. He used to keep it empty and dark, like a deserted house with no furniture, a perfect place for the noises in his head to become loud and maybe help him stand the never-ending days of what everyone called life.

You entered his life and now most of what he feels in these old veins is warmth, safety and attachment. Yes, he doesn't call it miracle, because his past doings are too stained and unforgivable to deserve a miracle. To deserve you. The real miracle. The fathomable idea of what it feels to be alive.

Joel feels alive.

Some days, it feels like his wretched past is clawing its way back into his mind, calling those demons to end his days of peace with you. Some nights, he's restless... So terribly restless. What if you get injured on your next patrol? What if the Raiders attack you when you're out of the gates of Jackson? What if something bad happens to you the moment his eyes close? What if these damn what ifs come to life? This old mind tricks him into seeing pictures of what has never happened and probably never will. You always assure him that you'll be careful. He trusts you and your abilities, but he does not trust his fears. Because if life is too good, it scares him.

It scares Joel Miller, way more than it would if he was trapped in a dark room with all of his fears and demons creeping on the cold hard floor towards him. He'd rather spend every day fighting off the Clickers and Raiders and every nasty threat out there, instead of pacing around the room and waiting to see if your patrols end well or not.

So he has no choice but to either convince Tommy to pick him as your patrol partner every damn time you have to do it – which he makes sure is as limited as possible – or occasionally keep an eye on you from a distance and let his thoughts consume him at the same time. Just like what he's doing now.

His persistence in being close to you tends to earn him annoyed eye rolls and "She's more capable than that, Joel." comments from his brother... almost all the time. But he simply can't help it, and he thinks that you know it. Because you never complain nor haul him over the coals for his instincts and worries and the immense amount of care his rigid heart feels for you. He's silently thankful for that understanding.

You are safe here, he thinks. Even though he feels restless, his heartbeat has never been this calm. He sits and watches you on nights like this and there's only one thought ringing in his head. All the scolding is worth it. You're sprawled out peacefully on the bed. His bed. It must be straight out of a fucking impossible dream. You're here, in his atmosphere, in his menacing, guilty, dark presence... And you have chosen it knowingly. It's all he can ever ask for.

The dim moonlight is swimming in through the curtains, casting a soft, silvery shadow over your face. Your hair is falling all around you like you're knowingly doing it... Posing for an artist just to paint this delicate beauty on a canva.

Despite his bitter mood, a content smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. Tearing his gaze from you, he downs the remaining whiskey and silently places the empty glass on the table, deciding that he needs a short walk to free his troubled mind. One morning, Maria woke up and decided that Joel needs to stay behind and help Tommy in fixing the issues in the town's only library. So you should have another partner for your patrol days for god knows how long. He fucking hates being told what to do. He fought tooth and nail to prevent that, and if you weren't there to stop him, he would as well turn the mess hall into another ruin that needed to be fixed – which only meant more time away from you.

So it's going to take only two weeks, at worst. Only a terrible fortnight before things go back to normal. It's almost unbelievable how you have managed to awaken a sense of normalcy in him that he hasn't known in decades. Your absence is an instant threat to this normal life.

Maybe it's about time he gets used to it. He's not that weak. He shouldn't let his angers and worries run him. More importantly, he shouldn't ruin your much needed sleep with his usual problems right now. You've still got the weekend. He'll take a walk and be back here before you as much as stir in your deep slumber.

Oh. The damn library.

...

Jackson is eerily quiet in the middle of the night, enveloped by darkness and as isolated as it can be in this corner of the world. It's a stark contrast to how busy the whole community is during the daylight – bustling with happy greetings, careless jokes, movie days, small parties, and lots of work to do. It all asks for social interaction and he deeply hates it.

He hates when every passer-by's attention turns to you every time you step out in the open. He hates how prying eyes rove up and down your frame every time you walk into the bar. He hates how... He shakes his head, almost rolling his eyes at the loudness of these thoughts. Joel has to remind himself that he is the one you hold onto and introduce to everyone in every social gathering. The proud gleam in your eyes always placates him. There's no need to break a jaw in this town... Perhaps.

Lights flicker by the porches and the sound of his boots on the ground is the only sound that disturbs the silence. The sky is clouding over, distantly promising another stormy night in its gloomy wake. Occasional flashes of lightning light up the road and before Joel knows it, he's passing by the Tipsy Bison. It's 3 past midnight, no wonder why its doors are locked and closed. Either way he comes to a halt, letting the gears turn in his head as he opts for a very familiar path.

Your house. It's a short walk away from the bar.

Joel still recalls that day. How long has it been? Five, six, seven months? It feels like yesterday to him.

He'd had a terrible conversation with Tommy, not at all the way he'd planned it on his first day in Jackson. Things got heated up pretty quickly, leaving a bitter taste of rejection lingering on his tongue, the burn of the whiskey only worsening his mood.

"Just because life stopped for you, doesn't mean it has to stop for me..."

The words were ringing in his head as he stormed out of the bar. Shrugging his jacket on, all he wanted was to walk as far away from that area as possible. This affronted, begrudging, irrational sting was boiling in him and in that moment he was more than ready to leave the gates of Jackson even if it called for more danger. Life had really ended for him years ago, but to hear it from Tommy right after the hell he'd went through to find him... It really hurt.

The pain was resurfacing in rapid tides.

If his boots could dig deeper, get stuck in the snow and propel him into the cold biting blanket of the earth, he'd welcome it. If life had really ended for him, he had to make it make sense by ending himself as well. This... There was this distant melody echoing in the air and cutting through his troubled thoughts. The wind was harsh against his ears, and each step brought the melody closer.

It really could be the last song that played before his funeral.

Joel was surrounded by all the colors, and all he could see was white, eyes fixed on the ground. He didn't pay much attention as he bumped into someone. He barely lifted his head to apologize, and then his gaze settled on the crackling fire on the left side of the road.

Red and orange and yellow hues. It was a fresh contrast. His eyes were hurting from all the white snow.

He came to a halt, mindlessly waving at the person he'd bumped into. A dozen of kids had gathered around the burning logs in a barrel on the porch, rubbing their hands together and listening to the same melody he was entranced by. The same melody that he thought would be his burial hymn.

Joel's eyes followed their excited faces, wondering who they were looking at. He saw you mirroring their hopeful gleams first, and then he registered the guitar on your lap.

To make the matters worse, you had tilted your head, shooting him a funnily quizzical look. He might've looked weird back then. The town's newcomer, with a permanent scowl on his face, maybe plotting murder as well (considering that it was the main topic in all the words that already flew around about him).

He didn't answer, still dead in his tracks as if he was immobilized by some invisible force. So you shifted in your seat, silently offering him a spot among the children as if to say "You can come over and join us."

He had two choices in that moment, either a polite decline was on the table or a dismissive frown. He looked over his shoulder at the bar and finally opted for the third choice – or so his mind created another choice for him – and he nodded, joining in on your little gathering without as much as saying a word. He really wanted to hear that song.

He never asked whether you knew the words to that song, but that night when he lay in bed and his thoughts were far from the idea that he wanted to bury himself in the snow, he vaguely remembered the lyrics. And it hit him hard, like a punch to the gut.

Yeah, I don't want to hurt

There's so much in this world

To make me bleed

Stay with me

Let's just breathe

Stay with me

You're all I see

He wanted to ignore how the words affected him in the middle of the night. It was the first night he could feel some semblance of peace, not sleeping with an eye open in case someone attacked them. Ellie was safe in another room. So he really considered that. He considered the possibility of staying. He was relatively new to the community... And so damn unaccustomed to the whole arrangement. He almost woke up the next morning and started packing before he remembered where he was.

Stay with me

Let's just breathe

Those words stuck with him.

And his first encounter with you was a harbinger of different things to come.

One day of patrolling with you led to another, one night of inviting you for a drink led to another. One peaceful afternoon in the stable led to another. One gloomy evening in the clinic did not lead to another. He was way too protective of you to let that happen again.

He truly feels lucky. You could be anywhere else, better off if you picked anyone other than this grumpy, old man. And yet you still want him. You silly girl. You've melted his heart with your warmth.

But he's like a lake, deserted in the middle of a haunted forest and engulfed in coldness. Even though the center is warm and gooey, he keeps the surface frozen and rigid and menacing. Hard enough to keep his instincts sane and alarmed. Cold enough to let everyone know that you're his and he will not fucking share.

Lightning strikes again in the sky.

He lifts himself up and off your front stairs with a heavy grunt. An hour has passed since he left for a walk. The clouds have fully gathered in the sky and he thinks that he should be by your side now.

Joel really cares little for the details, always asking Tommy and Ellie to spare him the explanation and get straight to the point. But with you, it's hard to forget a couple of things. One night, a few weeks ago, you were pulling him past the threshold of your house. So adorably drunk and inviting. He was still a little pissed by how the rainstorm had ruined your nightly walk. Despite your complaints about sharing a kiss in the rain, he'd dragged you back to the nearest shelter possible, because he just didn't want to get fucking soaked. Joel didn't find it romantic at all. He was frowning, still pinning you against the wall for a begrudgingly needy kiss. You giggled into his mouth, playful fingers pocking at his chest. "Come on Joel. Let yourself enjoy it... All these neverending drops on the roof, the fresh earthy scent that comes after it... It's just really beautiful. One of the few things that kept me sane before I came here..."

He's not really against the idea. But the changing weather doesn't bode well with him. One day is sunny, and the next is rainy and it just goes to show how he has no power over the situation.

Hell. A part of Joel is really terrified of the changing weather. One day it was scorching hot, and the next his boots crunched against the white blankets of neverending snow, reprimanding him for his carelessness. Time would pass whether he wanted to or not. He is still terrified, wishing he could stretch the time he could spend with you. God knows he wants an eternity with you.

He has seen enough rain for a lifetime. He hasn't seen you enough. How could he enjoy getting soaked in tiny drops of water when all he wanted was to bury his face in the crook of your neck and stay there for a while – maybe forever and a little more?

But he has considered it since then. If there are a few things that keep you happy and rainy days have to be one of them, he'll give you that. He'll get used to that. There's no pattern with the rainfall in here, and the weather forecast is pretty much nonexistent. He has promised himself to tell you whenever it rains, even though he despises the idea of you catching a cold after minutes or hours of dancing in the cold, letting droplets of water wash over you without a care in this wretched world.

He also despises the idea of waking you up.

But he knows you'll like it. You careless, adorable girl. He lives to see that excited gleam in your eyes. Everytime you show it, this old heart pounds impatiently in his chest and it all feels like the first time it has happened.

He's back home in no time.

So, kicking his boots off as silently as possible, he trudges over and settles down by the edge of the bed, suppressing a low groan. His knees still ache from all the never-ending effort he's put in repairing the library over the past few days. Jesus, he just wants it to be done as soon as possible. It feels like he's losing so much time when he's away from you. Now that you're still pretty much asleep in the same position he last saw you, all Joel wants is to lie down by your side and melt in your warm embrace instead of having to fight with his thoughts and the world to not take away yet another precious piece of him. He can't afford to even think about losing you.

Each flash of lightning illuminates the contours of your beautiful face and he can't help himself when he lifts a hand and lets his knuckles gently stroke your cheek. Your lips are parted ever so slightly and you look so innocent in your unconscious dream. He almost backs down, part of him hoping that it rains throughout the day, just so he doesn't guilt trip himself for the pout on your face if you miss it. You need to rest.

As if you sense his hesitation, you stir in bed and lean into his touch. A low hum escapes you, and Joel is too weak to deny himself the softness it brings. His wounded knuckles are soon replaced with a calloused thumb and he wonders what's so interesting about these hands that never ceases to catch your attention.

One night at the bar, Joel had caught you actually staring at them and when he teased you a little about it, you just shrugged and grinned mischievously. "I mean... I just like them so much. Your hands are always warm, and... and that's all."

He shrugged it off that night. Ellie had also considered it a flex for him to have warm hands even in the coldest days of winter, but with you and the way you looked at him... It was different. He knew it was more than that.

And when the nights he shared with you went further than his sinful thoughts had planned, you showed him that it was more than that. It was more than the warmth you found there. If anything, your helpless whimpers were an indication of how capable and strong these hands were.

Heat blooms in his chest. It simply is endearing. The way you always seem to recognize his touch and send his head spiraling with the idea that you want him to do more. You've never been afraid of him. You've never pushed him away. You've never judged him for the horrible things he's done. Jesus, it should terrify him. Joel should've pushed you away at some point, because he knows you'd be better off without him, but how could he muster the strength to do so? Since that fateful moment on your porch, your presence keeps on inviting him for more. More than simply existing. And God, if you knew how he wants to do more than that every second of the day... Only if the world lets him breathe a little.

There's another bolt of lightning and raindrops finally begin to drum against the window pane.

Joel shakes his head to get rid of those worrisome ideas. Propping himself on one elbow, he leans over ever so slightly and lets his thumb trace its way to your chin, up to your jawline, and then back to the soft skin on your cheek. He draws circles over the blooming flush and then his thumb is traveling down to your lower lip. Your mouth parts just a little more, breathing even and content and if he gets a grip on himself, he may notice that there's a ghost of a smile in there as well.

"Baby..." He whispers softly, his gaze drifting all over your adorable face. You really are a piece of art, tangled in the sheets, in the safety of his house, and your innocent hums are doing something to him. Some obscene voice that silently pleads for more. More and more... Just to give you more.

You stir a little more.

He leans over and places a gentle kiss on your forehead, the sweet, fruity scent he's come to like a lot about you engulfing his senses. He watches every little movement with amusement. "My sweet baby... You want to see what's waitin' for you outside."

"Joel," you mumble sleepily, voice drowsy and laced with a hint of confusion as you rub your eyes and stretch your arms before looking around the dark room with a quizzical expression on your face. It doesn't take long for the realization to hit you and the familiar gleam in your gaze makes him smile. You stare a him, wide-eyed. "Is it- again?"

He chuckles and gestures at the window. "Yes, a heavy one at that."

Again, there's that hum of delight as you follow his gaze. The pitter-patter of the rain cheers you up like a lollipop would do to a child. It's maddeningly adorable.

You should be running to the backyard by now, but instead you stare at him for a while. It's his turn to be confused. Your smile gets broader by each passing second as your delicate hands trace his face and run over the salt and pepper patches of his beard. When you playfully ruffle his hair, your eyes are still droopy and dreamy and so damn kissable that he just can't help himself.

His other hand fondles with a loose strand of hair beside you on the pillow before twirling it between his fingers. You bite your lower lip and lift your head just enough for a brief peck on the tip of his nose. He chuckles, letting his fingers draw a line over the column of your neck, down to your chest, and at last they disappear beneath the sheets, settling comfortably on the warm expanse of your belly.

Joel assumes that his presence is not too close to lock you in place, and yet not too loose to let you drift back into unconsciousness. You just have the perfect moment to escape. For goodness sake, rain is the one thing you choose over anything else. The thing you like a lot.

But you're still here, dazed eyes flickering all over his face and it just gives him a second thought. A new idea to test your patience. Seeing you still pinned under him and unmoving, was not really in his list when he decided to walk back home and wake you up. He chortles with amusement. If you want what he thinks you do, he could give you that... "Come on sweetheart, what's stoppin' you?"

His fingers drift lower, exploring the bare flesh of your thigh, right where his mouth was hours ago. Still as warm as he remembers, maybe a little bruised too. "It's all rainy outside. Ain't that what you wanted?"

"I know..." You mumble, an undertone of need sewn in your voice as you look down over the sheets that cover every movement of his hand. It's too dark for you to see anything anyway. He could easily toss the covers aside, but it's wickedly satisfying this way. "I'm- um, just feeling a little under the influence...and it's- uh, it's distracting."

His hand caresses its way to where he knows you need it the most, and you barely repress a shudder when his fingertips glide over your folds. But he barely feels you, a ghost of a touch hovering there as a smirk threatens to flicker at the corner of his mouth.

"Wonder if my hand's makin' a good influence or a bad one. What d'you say, baby?"

It pelts down steadily outside, but you don't seem to care the slightest about it. Neither does Joel. A low gasp emanates from you when his touch becomes proper, rubbing circles and spreading the slick over your clit as slow and unrushed as he physically can manage. You're still indecently wet after he'd brought you over the edge again and again before you dozed off... and the fact that some of his cum might be gathering in his hand is fueling his lewd thoughts.

You naughty girl.

"A very bad one, I see." He tuts, feeling your chest heaving up and down beneath him. It's easy to rile you up this way. Desperation is written in your expression... and he hasn't even started yet.

"She needs fixin', doesn't she?" Joel asks, bringing his movement to a sudden halt. You're too distracted by everything he does to form a coherent thought. He lifts an expectant brow, now actually waiting for an answer.

"Yes- yes Joel... need it so bad... so bad it hurts." You breathe, a helpless pout forming on your lips.

"I know baby. I know... Jus' lay down and let me take care of it, hm? How's that sound?" He demands again, but this time he doesn't give you a chance to respond as he pushes two fingers past your weeping hole, burying them knuckles deep within your warmth. You gasp at the sudden intrusion, eyelids heavy as you grasp his arm, squirming like a helpless, needy girl.

What a cruel man he is.

"Not off to a good start, angel. I know you can be more patient."

You nod quickly, biting your lip in an attempt to stop yourself from wriggling and twisting on the bed. For a split second, Joel considers pulling out to nuzzle his face between your legs and let the heat consume him. A perfect place to brave the cold, restless seasons.

But his fingers aren't shy either. He starts with slow thrusts, effortlessly sliding in and out before picking up the pace. He makes you adjust to his rhythm, and when you let go and open up, the obscene moans and chocked out cries are all that fill the silence of the house. Jesus, he lives to hear them every day. He rewards you by curling his fingertips to hit that spot that makes you see stars.

You shudder particularly hard at that, more arousal pooling inside you and soaking his fingers. You're losing your grip with reality, and he can sense it as your legs begin to shake and your knee brushes over the denim of his jeans, but you still remember to abide by his "No squirming" rule.

You're so pliant and obedient in his hands that it does nothing but to spur Joel to give you more. And so he does.

"I like these sounds," He adds a third finger, tilting his head to whisper in your ear. "I dream about them all the time."

You whimper and tighten your hold around Joel's arm. When he feels that your orgasm is creeping impossibly close, his thumb joins and rubs rapid circles over your bundle of nerves and that's your undoing. You clench around him, walls tightening and squeezing his fingers deeper – if that's even possible – as waves of white-hot euphoria crash over your worn-out body and take over your senses. Your back arches involuntarily into him. A sound between a groan and a curse escapes his throat.

"That's it. Atta girl... that's it, so fuckin' beautiful."

His touch is unrelenting as he talks you through it with a string of sweet nothings.

Only when you come down and rest back on the bed he slowly pulls out. You're panting heavily, face flushed and heated and so effortlessly seductive that Joel is sure no fucking artist could ever capture it in words of a poem or colors of a painting. Joel is the only one to witness this moment and it swells his chest with pride. He wants to drink it in, let it run through his veins like never-ending liquor.

He lifts his hand, smirking as you gape at the way it's glistening under the dim light. You're in awe. He softly places the tips between your swollen lips and you waste no time in swirling your tongue around them, licking the slick off as if it's a delightful lollipop. And the hazy look on your face says that it's more than just a sweet treat.

His own breathing hitches when you open your mouth a little wider and take him fully in, sucking and humming and driving him absolutely crazy. He shakes his head slightly, catching the playful gleam in your gaze.

"Hm. Still a very bad influence."

When you're fully recovered and satisfied, Joel lifts you up in his arms and walks towards the backyard, chuckling at your confused expression. You give a squeal and wrap your hands around his neck to keep yourself steady, at the same time trying to gauge what his next plan would be. You really have forgotten about the rain, haven't you?

He comes to a halt, making sure the blanket he'd just picked off the bed is not leaving any part of your body uncovered. The rainstorm has eased off considerably over the past hour, but he doesn't want to risk it. Keeping you warm and safe in the cold is and will always be his top priority, no matter if his back or knees protest from how much they ache. Hell, he aches for you and that content smile on your face. Nothing beats it.

"My girl still wants to go out, hm?"

Your eyes flicker between him and the half-open door, filled with excitement and delight and a tiny flicker of doubt. "Yes Joel... but...you sure you want to join in?"

"I don't know," He feigns innocence, pretending to think for a short while before his face lights up with an idea. "Do I get a kiss for it?"

You laugh and lean up to press your lips into his in a soft, lingering kiss. It's so tender and reassuring that he has to pull back before changing his mind and taking you back to the bed.

"Then it's settled."

It has been settled for a long time.

Maybe he can get used to it. Maybe you get a better idea of what you've made of him with your presence at times when he easily complies with things that make you happy. A heart made of ice, molten enough to experience the world with you all over again. Even if he gets soaked in the rain, he's alright with it. You kiss him and all the discomfort is forgotten.

He should give it time and learn to breathe again. Learn to stay, to settle. To let you know that you're all he sees.

Yeah, I don't want to hurt

There's so much in this world

To make me bleed

Stay with me

Let's just breathe

Stay with me

You're all I see

The words are carved in his head. He chances a glance at the living room before walking past the door. Your guitar is placed on the couch. Maybe one day he'll bring himself to play his melodies for you too. He thinks that he's got a lot of time for it now. He wants an eternity with you, and in this wretched world, eternity lasts as long as you'll have him.

One, two... Ten droplets fall over him. He kisses you again, harder and longer. His ice-cold heart melts just a little more at your careless laughter. Just stay with me.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller one shot #the last of us #joel miller smut #tommy miller #ellie miller #pedro pascal characters #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst

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kbwrites · 7 months ago

Text

Husband! Nanami

synopsis: your husband comes home for another long and arduous day. He only wishes to stay with you forever.

⚝tags: husband!nanami, reader is a housewife, nsfw, nanami loves eating his wife out

⚝wc: 1.6k

Husband Nanami! Drags his feet, trudging wearily to the entrance of his shared home. Each step heavier than the last. Work has been increasingly stressful, each day more demanding than the last. Today was no different. He brings a tired hand up to the doorknob, turning it slowly. The soft yellow light of the foyer illuminates his face, the scent of his safe space hitting his nostrils.

“Kento?” There it was, the most melodious symphony he’d ever heard. Rounding the corner it was you, his loving wife. In that moment it seems as though all the stress from the day melts away, a small smile graces his lips and his tired eyes close briefly.

“Hello dear.”

Kento wasn’t exactly sure when he fell in love with you, just that at some point he stopped being able to imagine what life would be like without your presence. You became his peace, a ray of sunshine that cut through the darkness in his life. He never believed in karma or fate, but sometimes he’d wonder what he had done in his life to be deserving of your love.

He slips out of his shoes, heavy footsteps and drooping shoulders trudge toward you. He wrapped his strong arms around you, enveloping you in a warm embrace. Kento bends down slightly, burying his head into your hair allowing your scent to permeate his senses. You always smelled so good… A low hum of content emanates from his throat, almost like a cat purring. His arms tighten around you, pulling you impossibly close.

“How was your day?” He mumbles into your skin.

“My day was good.” You reply quietly. “What about you?”

“Long. Tiring..” He says with a sigh, pulling away slightly so he can have a better look at his sunshine. His hand reaches to cup your face, thumb making small circles on your cheek. You look at your husband, honey-colored eyes half-lidded, dark circles occupying his face. It was taking everything in him to stand right now.

“Are you hungry?” You muse, nuzzling your face into his hand. He only nods, still looking at you with tired eyes. Taking the hand that held your face you lead him to the dining room. The smell of food wafts through the room, a plate of steak and mashed potatoes, still hot. He takes a seat at the table, eyes lighting up at the dish.

“Thank you, my love.” He says before taking a bite, his eyes closing in satisfaction as the savory taste hits his tongue. He loved your cooking, it was like a balm to his weary soul. He continues eating in silence, looking up at you. You rest your chin in your hands, smiling at your husband.

“You’re not eating?” He says after swallowing.

“I ate before you came home.” A pang of guilt washes over him, Kento knows you probably waited as long as you could hoping you could hold out and wait to eat with him. With all the long hours he’s been putting in, he's barely had time for the one thing that made his life worth living

“I’m sorry…” He reaches for your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. You just smile, how did he end up with an angel?

He finishes eating his food, you get up grabbing the empty plate. Kento gently grabs hold of your wrist.

“Please, you cooked let me-”

“You can barely stand Ken.” You’re right, he’s come to find out that you usually are. He sinks back in the chair, too exhausted to protest. After loading the dishwasher you come back into the dining room, your husband exactly where you left him. Fighting off sleep in the chair.

You take his large hand in your smaller one, leading him to the bathroom. Although, Nanami is a serious man, one who was insistent on retiring you when you got married. He secretly loved when you took care of him, your gentle hands working his sore muscles combined with the hot water cascading down his body; he thinks in this moment he could fall asleep standing up.

He looks down at his wife fussing over him, your naked form, suds of soap covering your glistening skin. Even running on 3 hours of sleep the desire in him for his lover burns. His hands roam over your curves, gripping your hips. You pause your movements looking up at him as he pulls you closer, pads of his fingers digging lightly into the fat of your hips. How long had it been since he touched his wife? Made her writhe under him? Far too long in his opinion.

You finish the shower, leading his towel-clad body to your bedroom, drying him off you grab his night clothes from the top drawer. Suddenly bashful at all the attention you’ve been giving him Kento grabs your arm as you try to slip on his pajama pants. You look up at him inquisitively.

“Kento?” He doesn’t answer, just pulls you onto his lap. His large hands holding you in place.

“Darling..” His voice hoarse. Your body shivers in response, even after a year of marriage the sight before you— his chiseled abs, damp blond hair framing his sharp features, his lips parted and pupils blown… It was still too much. You feel the arousal pool between your legs.

“K-kento, you’re tired...” You try to be the voice of reason, but the love of your life looks so damn good right now. He places soft kisses on your chest, setting fire to your skin.

“You’ve been so good to me, allow me this.” He says before trailing kisses up and down your neck. His hands leave your waist, his touch slow and deliberate. His lips ghost over you, landing next to your ear.

“It’s been terrible my love… working all day when I’d rather be here… having you.” His breath against your ear.

“Ken!” You say embarrassed, he was always so blunt when you were having sex. “Just don’t go overboard…” You chide in between moans, your hands find his damp hair, raking through it gently.

He uses the bit of strength he has left to lay you down on the bed, your back hitting the plush comforter. His hand trailing between your legs, he groans as he feels the wetness between your folds. Your back arches as he brings his digits up to your clit, making slow deliberate circles.

He looks up at you, eyes clouded with lust.

“Honey, I need you.” Is all he says before he buries his face into your cunt.

His tongue darting out to lap up all of your slick. Your darling husband sucking gently on your clit as his fingers tease your entrance. Your moans and whimpers only serve to encourage him. His long finger slides in, curling it upwards to your sweet spot.

“Kento~ s’good” You breathe, one hand snakes up to your stomach, giving the soft flesh a squeeze. His way of saying he heard you. His eyes flutter shut, completely enraptured in pleasing his precious wife. All the paperwork, unnecessarily long meeting with his boss, the entire shit storm of the day all seems to float away as he rests between your thighs.

“So good f’me my love.” He mumbles against your skin. The hand he had on your stomach reaches below to his growing erection. He wraps his hand around his thick length, rutting into his tight fist. He moans against your cunt, imagining his fist were your heavenly walls.

He knows you so well, just by the slight change in your voice he can tell he’s bringing you closer to the edge. His pace quickens, inserting another thick finger into your cunt, your walls flutter around him. Hot squelching noises emanate from your core. He released your clit with a ‘pop’ using the wet muscle to circle around the bundle of nerves. He wants so badly for you to cum, his own pleasure completely reliant on it. Your breath hitches, body spasms as you finally release. Your arousal coating his fingers, he removes them from you replacing them with his mouth.

He greedily slurps up all the slick from your entrance, humming as your sweet essence coats his taste buds.

“Kentooo” You whine, slightly overstimulated. You squirm trying to push your lover's head away from your throbbing cunt, he only grunts, strong arms holding your legs in place. Only after he’s had his fill he crawls up to you, resting your head on his broad chest.

Your husband places kisses on your forehead, stroking your slightly damp hair. He takes deep breaths, helping to pace your own breathing. He looks down at his world, even your blissed out state was irresistible to him.

“Was that too much for you my love?” He questions softly. You shake your head, a tired smile graces his lips.

“I’ve been neglecting you honey… I’m sorry.” He says apologetically, tracing patterns on your skin. You look up at him, the guilt evident on his face.

He worked so hard so that you wouldn’t have to, his darling wife shouldn’t have to lift a finger. However he couldn’t bear the thought of you waiting up for him, missing him. The light of his life, so lonely in the big house he bought for her.

“It’s alright Ken.” You offer a gentle smile, of course, you missed your husband, but you didn’t want to stress him out any more than he already was.

“No. It isn’t.” He said firmly. “I’ll request more days off, I need rest. And I need you.” He holds you tight as if you’d disappear at any moment. His mind was set, you swoon at your husbands' words.

“Good.” You say smiling, he leans down to place a gentle kiss to your lips. He rolls over to his back, the exhaustion hitting him again. You throw the cover onto both of your bodies. Sleeping taking over him quickly. You place a kiss to your husband's cheek before closing your eyes.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬✧ ▬▭▬✧✧✧

#jjk #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #nanami kento #nanami smut #nanami x reader #kbwrites #jjk smut #jjk x reader

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reinreingoawayy · 26 days ago

Text

— before i could kiss you again

part i | part ii | part iii

a longer version of this

sae itoshi x f!reader | slight(?) language | kissing

wc: 1.3k

it was never your intention to kiss the sae itoshi.

it was supposed to be a fun one-week vacation for you in madrid. but circumstances happened and changed when you accidentally met your ex. now, the fun you’re supposedly going to have turned into an unbearable nightmare of trying to run away from his obnoxious ass. you have no intentions of talking or making peace with him especially when the reason for your falling apart was because of a cheating incident a few months ago. many people would know that you give zero fucks about cheating, including him, so when he asked you to get back to him, you scoffed the life out of you and thought he was kidding. and now, you are kissing the most famous sae itoshi in re al’s home stadium, right after their big game against fc barcha, in front of all the cameras, even probably in all spain or even in front of the whole world.

you first met sae on a flight going to Madrid. it was a very rare occasion for you to get upgraded to business class, so when the flight attendant asked you if you wanted to move to a business class seat, you didn’t have to think twice and said yes. you were seated next to the magenta-haired man with weird hair physics who was wearing a black sleeping mask while an ongoing football game was playing on his big screen. before, you didn't know who sae itoshi was. sure, you've heard about his name, and how he is japan's greatest treasure, but it has never occurred to you to know more about him. you didn't know what he looked like or whatever. all you know was that he is, apparently, good at playing football and that he plays in a professional football league in spain.

so when you saw him play, you couldn’t believe your eyes. the man from the plane was the same man your coworkers were crazy about. and when he struck a breathtaking goal that opened the door for re al’s victory near the end of the game, and everyone was rejoicing in re al’s home stadium, you couldn’t help but also join the crowd. hell, you didn’t even know what was going on. when they started chanting his name, you saw him waving his hand up, hyping the crowd to make the chanting louder. there’s a burning passion in his teal eyes as he continues to hype up the people and as his teammates give him a supportive slap on his back.

it was a fleeting moment of exhilarating joy especially when you realized that your ex was just sitting behind you. you don’t even know why he was there right now. as far as you know, your ex never really cared about football, like you before, so you were confused about why would he be there. when you started walking away from your seat, you heard him call your name but you pretended you didn’t hear. he kept calling your name, it was getting annoying. you thought you were clear before that you would never ever give second chances to someone who messed up, especially when the issue was infidelity. when you reach the entrance to the tunnel, you finally face him.

“i do not give a fuck if you want to explain. you cheated, saw it with my own eyes, and that was enough for me. we’re done. now if you could please stop calling my name, there’s someone waiting for me,” you said, with annoyance traced in your voice with every word you spat. you don’t really know who would be that someone waiting for you, all you wanted was to escape from his obnoxious and ridiculous begging. you turned your back again, but this time you felt his hand, grabbing your wrist.

“can you please let go?” you asked. you tried to be polite and civil but it seems like he’s been pushing his limits already.

“please, here me out fi—”

“what’s going on here?” you both look at the owner of the voice and for some reason, you sense a relief in your veins. you removed your ex’s hand from your wrist and gingerly approached sae itoshi. he looks so much better up close with those teal eyes, intently looking at yours, deciphering what’s going on in your head with the way you look at him. he may or may not remember you because you barely interact during that flight except when he lends you his moisturizer because you forgot to bring it. it also looks like he just finished his interview since the cameras are still following him. you’re fucked, you thought. they’re still probably airing and other people may be witnessing what is about to happen.

“sae…i was just about to find you!” you said with a forced smile on your face. you continued approaching him and stopped when you are just one step away from him.

you prayed a million times of sorries in your head before you went ahead and held the side of his face, tiptoeing, before placing your lips against his. you heard audible gasps from the people, a lot of camera clicks, and a bunch of ‘oh my gods,’ when you kissed him. it was usually a normal sight for them to see a football player kiss their significant other but sae itoshi was different. he doesn’t have any dating rumors and has never been linked to anyone so it’s a surprise to other people to see him kiss someone—or rather to see someone kiss him—out in the open like this. he was unmoved when you kissed him and all you could think of was, ‘fuck, fuck, fuck,’ and was ready to pull away but you felt his hand on the small of your back and started responding to your kiss.

your head was spinning and spinning, your thoughts were incoherent, and for a moment, it felt like the world had gone still and silent. his lips were soft against yours and you’d be lying if you thought it wasn’t slightly addicting. you felt him pull away for a second, shifting his head’s angle before diving in again with his lips with renewed intensity. his kisses tasted like mint and strawberries, probably from the electrolyte drink he was drinking before. you felt his hand on your hips as your hand traveled to his slightly damped hair.

someone cleared their throat and pulled you both in reality. you quickly pulled away but stood close, not wanting to see what was waiting around you. and then a flash of light came flashing in and your heart suddenly felt like it was going to explode. he was quick you block most of your face with his hand on the second wave of flashing before making his body as your shield from all the camera shots. he took off his jacket before putting it around your shoulders, gesturing to his manager to accompany you out of the pitch and into the locker room. before you can fully exit the pitch, you look back and see him approach your ex, muttering some words. you’re not good at reading lips but you could’ve sworn he said something along the lines of, ‘…my girl.’

•••

the whole stadium was in chaos, but sae itoshi didn’t care. when you were already far enough to not hear the words he’s about to say, he made his way to your ex’s.

“please stop bothering my girl. i’m only going to ask once,” he said before leaving the pitch.

when he got to the locker room you were in, waiting, he closed the door and stood in front of you.

“i’m sorry—”

“i don’t need apologies. i need explanations,” he said, cutting you off.

you nodded.

“now explain, before i could kiss you again.”

•••

#rei’s home library #sae itoshi #itoshi sae #blue lock x reader #bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock fic #itoshi sae x reader #sae x reader #sae itoshi x reader

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droaxa · 7 months ago

Text

✧ tags: yandere cheater x reader pt. 2

✧ warnings: violence and force, yandere behavior, descriptions of dismemberment, blood, stalking, police, nsfw content, kissing, angst, smut, breaking in, attempted murder, cuts, dead dove, probably more stuff

✧ a/n: my most requested fic at the moment! i decided to take some of your suggestions and add my own twist at the end + yandere name reveal!

part 1 - part 2 - part 3

yandere cheater wrestles you into his car after he drags you outta the cafe you’re in, unyielding as you try to pull away. the second he shuts the door and jets to the drivers side, you force yourself out the door and sprint down the street.

you hear his yells as you increase your speed, you knew you wouldn’t be able to outrun him for long. not only was he more athletic than you, but a look back revealed his terrifying expression. he was clearly set on catching you, having the advantage in his relatively relaxed clothing opposed to you, who was dressed for a date.

knowing you couldn’t beat him you came to a sudden stop of to the side of the sidewalk and he rammed into your side. stumbling back a few steps you stopped him. eyes wide and hair blown back, he looks at you mildly surprised.

“wha-” you interrupt him this time, taking advantage of his surprise by slapping a hand over his mouth.

you bring on an expression that you think is intimidating, “leave me the fuck alone, i don’t know what the hell you want but i’m not taking you back”

he scoffs like he has you all figured out, taking your hand off his mouth to reveal a smirk underneath. “guess mother dear will find out about your… escapades then”

smack!

you slap him across the face sharply, sound reverberating around you and leaving a tinge of red on his cheek. his mouth gapes as he looks back at you even more surprised, what happened to the mild mannered girl who he had cheated on dated?

“release those anywhere and i will fuck up your life asshole” you fume, hand still in the air as if to threaten him for another slap. “you’re the one that decided to cheat on me with every girl we knew. fucking own up to it”

you were sick of his shit, who did he think he was? you huff out a quiet fuck off as you pass him, shoulder bumping against his. as soon as you rounded the corner you sprint to a nearby parked cab, slamming the door on your way in.

“to the university dorms please”

yandere cheater runs after you too late, rounding the corner as you take off in the cab. poor baby, you were still hung up on him cheating? he didn’t even really like those girls anyway, they weren’t good for anything except their bodies.

but you, you were it for him. he’d do anything to see your cute smile again, to see you whimper on his cock. he felt his swollen cheek, your anger may come in the way of him proving his love, but you’d understand in the end. how deep his love ran. all he had to do was prove was that those girls meant nothing.

two weeks had passed, two long peaceful weeks. your ex finally seemed to give up, the barrage of text messages and calls diminishing to radio silence and constant gifts at your doorstep suddenly stopping. maybe you were more intimidating than you thought.

the second you got home after the encounter, you had called your mother and explained everything. although she did yell at you for a solid hour due her disappointment in you sending out explicit photos of yourself, she understood your situation. after giving her instructions on blocking your ex if he tried to reach out to her you were finally at a peace of mind. at a zen. maybe you could turn a new leaf, you deserved it.

of course you had fucking jinxed it, just when you finally thought it was all over, your ex had tried to force himself back in your life again. deep down, you knew he wouldn’t give up that easy. he’d always be stubborn to a fault.

two weeks after the encounter a small navy present box appeared in from of your new dorm room door. still groggy with sleep you rubbed your eyes and picked up the box, bringing it inside. after contemplating for a minute, you finally decide to open it. in your sleep ridden state, you reasoned that it was probably something you’d left behind at your ex’s house.

it takes a minute to register the contents of the box, but when you do

“OH MY GOD”

you scream and stumble back.

two bloodshot green- brown eyes were pressed into the shiny white silk inside, the area around them a tinge of red. that alone could be passed off as a cruel prank by some immature students but the unmistakable metallic scent of blood lingering in the air said otherwise. that and the only other item in the plush silk: a silver bracelet with the initials ‘e.r’.

only one person you knew owned that bracelet and had those eyes, your ‘friend’ eva. but you had blocked and lost contact with her after you found her and your boyfriend together in the bathroom of the mall. there’s no way she would have just lost this bracelet either, you remembered her bragging about how it was permanent. being soldering together around her hand.

you were nauseous. oh god. you knew it was him, you just knew. sure you hated her but you didn’t want her to die. what the hell, what the fuck do you even do?

before you could think you grabbed your phone calling the only person you could think of.

“can you come over quick, please?”

20 minutes later a dark haired man rushed in through your front door, spotting you curled up in the corner. your eyes wide and still staring at the open box.

“(y/n) what’s going on?” he asks softly, approaching you slowly. you just point to the box and he takes a peek, immediately slapping a hand over his mouth as his eyes shoot open “fucking hell…”

you turn to him, eyes teary “ray what do we do?”

ray was your one real friend through everything your ex put you through, and ironically your ex’s older brother. he was one that introduced you to your ex and thus he blamed himself for letting him hurt you, even though you’d reassured him that you didn’t find him at any fault.

he was reliable and kind, a shoulder to lean on when things got tough. you’d known him for almost two years longer than your ex and honestly if you didn’t meet your ex, the small crash you harbored for ray may have grown. after you met you ex you assumed that your feelings for ray had naturally died out but you couldn’t lie about the strange biting feeling in your chest whenever you saw him.

and even now he was talking care of you, taking you to the police station to talk to the police and turning in the bloody present. a few hours later you both were back in your dorm, sitting on the edge of your bed as you discussed the situation.

“look i really appreciate all this, you didn’t have to come with me to the station”

he smiles, “anytime (y/n), if it’s for you”

you smile back, face a little warm from his answer “that’s sweet”

he moves a little closer, your pinkies now you touching. “you’re sweeter, my asshole brother doesn’t know what he missed out on.” and you swear that you see his eyes flicker to your lips.

“really?” you ask coyly, leaning in slightly.

he nods slightly hesitant “if i had a girlfriend like you i wouldn’t dare disrespect her like that, i-i mean you’re thoughtful and pretty and-” he gets cut off as you lean up and press your lips to his. he immediately freezes up and you take his response as rejection, pulling away. fuck, he was obviously just being nice who even likes their brothers ex?

“i’m so sorry i though-” before you can finish apologizing ray’s lips smash onto yours, one of his hands in your hair to pull you closer and the other guiding your lips to his by your chin. in between heated kisses he mumbles,

“god i was waiting for so long,” a kiss.

“prettiest girl i’ve ever met” another heated kiss. his words of longing slur as he continues to kiss you, pulling you ever closer. his plush lips trail down your neck and to your stomach, slender hand playing at your waistband. his hooded eyes look up at you as his other hand wanders under your shirt. “can i?”

you give him a shy nod and he smiles, pulling down your pajama shorts to reveal white cotton panties. you cover your face with your arm out of embarrassment and he reaches out, keeping your arm down.

“wann’ see your pretty face, waited for it” you nod meekly and he flashes his dimples, continuing to pull down your panties and throw them somewhere behind him. your cute cunt, glistening with arousal was right in front of his face. fuck. gliding a finger up the slit, he watches as the slick from your pussy coats it. fuck.

an hour later he was in heaven, or at least you felt like it. buried deep inside your wet cunt as you moaned and squirmed under him

“ngh- fuck, so good fa’ me baby”

this was the stuff of wet dreams. he speeds up as he feels his orgasm approaching, praises and grunts slipping from his lips as he slams his hips against yours. soft skin against muscle, hot breath on your face from where he was above you. finally he pulls out with groan, wanting to stay buried in your warm. spurts of warm cum shoot up your stomach as he finally finishes.

ray collapses beside you, both of you sweaty and nude as you bathe in the afterglow. weakly, you smile at his tired form as you close your eyes, drifting to sleep in your warm bed.

bang!

you wake up with a start, wearing a shirt too big to be yours. must be ray’s. you look around the dim room and reach for ray, feeling nothing in the space next to your body. did ray… leave? that couldn’t be right. your bare feet hit the wood floor as you step towards your lamp and turn on the light. nothing.

you look around the bedroom and then head to the kitchen, turning the corner and switching on the light. immediately the kitchen floods with light and you gasp. the floor was tracked with blood, a trail leading from where you stood to your bathroom. was he hurt?! you cautiously approach the bathroom, a sharp metallic scent dominates your nose as push open the half open door.

“took a while to wake up didn’t you sleepyhead?”

your blood runs cold. it was your ex boyfriend. if the crazed grin in his face wasn’t unsettling enough the blood smearing on his cheek and splattered across his body sent alarms going off inside you. looking behind him you see the source of all the red.

ray. deep cuts run down his body, clothes shredded, and body half submerged in the now murky red water of the tub. on the tile floor next to him was your kitchen knife, covered in blood. without missing a beat you turned and sprinted to your bed stand, searching for your phone. there’s no way you would make it to the door in time, you needed to call the police and at least save ray.

haphazardly searching your bed and nightstand, you still can’t find your phone. where is it?

“oh lookin’ for your phone?” you turn to him. in his hand was the aforementioned object, light pink case looking uncharacteristically cute opposed to his blood-ridden form. “you’re a pretty deep sleeper hon, i mean i was rummaging around right next to you for this and you didn’t even hear”

“what are you doing raph?” you ask terrified, slowly inching away from him.

in response he approaches you, “what do you think? my girl runs off on me and the next time i see her she’s fucking my brother. you tryna make me jealous baby?” he leans in, expression seemingly amused but you knew better. he was pissed.

“and you’re wearing his shirt too” his large hand plays with the round collar of the tee, fingers ghosting over your collarbones.

“take it off”

eyes wide, you look up at him, “no i won-”

“take it off or he dies” raph’s face is dead serious, no traces of amusement left, stare burning into your face. “you want him to live right? i’ll call the police as long as you take it off”

you hesitate then slowly peel off ray’s shirt, letting it fall to the floor. raph had seen your body before right? it was a small price to pay for saving rays life. the action left you in only your cotton panties as you tried to preserve your modesty with your hands.

raph lets out a low whistle and steps forward, pulling you closer by the curve of your waist. chucking as you shiver due to his cold touch

“already forgot i feel baby? might needa reteach ya”

you look away from him, refusing to see the smug expression playing on his face.

at that moment you felt a wave of self hatred crash over you, why couldn’t you do anything about this? were you so weak that you couldn’t protect yourself, much less ray? but who were you kidding, you weren’t faster or stronger than raph. there’s no way you could get out of this situation with both of you alive without giving into raph.

raph places a rough hand at your jaw, forcing you to look at him. unlike his brother his touch was demanding and rash, the only purpose of it being to prove that you were still his silly girl. no matter how hard you tried to run away.

he coos at your troubled expression “where’s all that fire from before huh?” he grins at your submissive state, the one that he caused. “i’ll be nice, put your own clothes on. quick.”

was he playing with you? you take a look at ray’s shirt on the floor and then approach your closet under a guise of calmness, but a look at your shaking hands would disprove your confidence. putting on a bra, followed by a bottom and a top, then outer wear. anything to put more layers between you and him.

a look up at him reveals that he was already looking at you, probably to stop you from pulling another trick on him. he leans down to whisper in your ear but instead decides to press his face into your neck, inhaling the sweet smell. he mutters, face still in your hair “god i missed you” the sincere tone in his voice scared you the most.

he pulls away, expression distant and somewhat melancholy. “you know if you acted like a good girl from the beginning i wouldn’t have to do this”

before you can question him, his open right hand presses against your face, hard. the other hand supports your head to stop you from pulling away, body trapped. the bitter smell of something pressed on the tissue between your face and his hand floods your senses.

for the second time that night all your senses dull, and everything goes dark.

a/n: i know i know you guys wanted reader to get away from him! i just though this was more interesting then the reader getting back at raph and getting away with it. i like to make my yanderes stubborn loll. hope you liked the twist might write a part 3 ^^

#yandere x darling #yandere #angst #female reader #x reader #yandere ex #yandere x y/n #yandere x reader #obsessive yandere #yandere cheater #yandere male #cheater x reader #obsession #dead dove fic

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demonvibez · 7 months ago

Text

Showering with Diavolo

Characters: Lord Diavolo x GN Reader Word Count: 2.3k+ Rating: Mature/Explicit [MDNI] Tags: a lil fluff, unprotected penetration, outercourse, fangs/marking, gn body parts A/N: Received this request as a comment under this fic so of course I had to write a lil headcanon/drabble about my husband, lol. Anyways, hope y'all like this - I could go on about Showertime Dia forever ♡

-> Typically Lord Diavolo has to adhere to a very strict schedule, his life filled with routine. Sadly, his hygiene regiment is no different - quick fifteen minute showers, six days per week, with the exception of his weekly bubble bath.

-> Most of his showers are quite quick and methodical, starting with his hair and working his way to washing his body. At the end of the fifteen minutes, Barbatos is usually there to greet him with his towel and uniform, eager to get the Young Master's very busy day started.

-> He has probably been gifted every hair-care and body gel to ever exist in the Devildom. But instead, his favorite is one you gifted him, and he is sure to use it everyday. The moment the musky-amber scent hits his nostrils in the morning, it reminds him of you, and he just knows he'll have a good day that day.

-> On Saturday evenings, however, the Prince has a little more time to himself - he pours himself some Demonus and settles into his jacuzzi-style bathtub, the water jets melting away the week's worries.

-> He usually uses the time to catch up on whatever popular shows he's missed, the television in his bathroom being a new addition. You had given him this idea - you told him that 'even the future king needs a little bit of me time,' and he started crafting an Akuzon order almost immediately after you walked off to class.

-> He lets himself drift off into his own peaceful oasis - too often falling into slumber, as thoughts of you turn into dreams. Lately though, he can't help but to feel like something is missing - that sitting in this jacuzzi makes him feel a bit lonely.

♡ "If only you were here with me now," he whispers to himself, before letting out a sigh and sinking beneath the water's surface.

-> Luckily for Lord Diavolo, the stars would soon align in his favor, and the fates would push you two closer together. It all started on a camping trip with the usual crowd from RAD. Diavolo had volunteered to help you gather some firewood - a rather simple task, one would think. Instead this task ended with the two of you running into a pack of wild hellhounds, and getting pushed into a mud pit while attempting to play with them. Barbatos looked rather perturbed when he saw the two of you arrive back at camp, but you assured him that everything was fine. 'Come on, let's get cleaned up,' you say with a smirk to a slightly shocked (and very giddy) Diavolo, your fingers entwining with his as you pull him towards the camp showers.

-> He isn't usually a shy demon, but when it comes to stripping down and getting into this shower with you, he can't seem to keep the blush on his face under control. What started as a nice shower together, washing each other's hair and giggling as you splash each other, ends with the two of you in a passionate embrace. With your legs wrapped around his torso, your lips collide as the cool shower's water cascades down Diavolo's toned back. It definitely would have gone further, had the two of you not been interrupted by Mammon and Levi banging on the door. (He did invite you back to his tent afterwards, so the night was not completely lost. Mammon and Levi were also lectured by Lucifer, 'for their shame and disrespect' as he puts it - but that's a different story.)

-> Ever since that night on the camping trip, your relationship has blossomed, and the two to of you spend as much time together as possible. You usually alternate between staying over with each other - most of the time you go over to stay with him in the Castle, but every now and then you are able to convince Lucifer that the House is clean enough for your Royal Boyfriend to spend the night.

-> The first time he stays over, of course the two of you shower together! You ask him if you should text Barbatos to bring over some of his shower supplies, but Diavolo insists on using yours, excited to smell like your signature scent for the rest of the day. He'll always insist on using your products - a light breeze of that scent helps him get through those endless meetings! (Although it does tend to make his mind wander...)

♡ Showers with Diavolo are always a mix of spontaneous and sensual. One moment you're splashing each other with soap suds, playing 'keep away' with the loofah…the next he has you pinned to the wall, unable to resist the way you look up at him, and he can't stop his lips from crashing onto yours.

♡ It doesn't take much effort for him to pick you up, cradling you in his arms as the shower rains down onto the both of you - and now you can finally finish what the two of you started on that night camping; what Diavolo has been fantasizing about ever since. Your hands slide his damp crimson hair back out of his face, gripping it in the back as your tongues collide. You can feel Dia's thick throbbing cock teasing you, and all you can do is grind against him.

♡ He slides into you so effortlessly - as if you were made for him. Your arousal made you putty in his hands, your tight little hole adjusting to him after only a moment - but you still couldn't help the gasp you let out at his size, your eyes widening at the sensation.

♡ Every thrust in this position feels new, an unfathomable pleasure previously undiscovered. A new high, with no sight of the top. Each stroke hits so deeply within you with an electric feel, the rush of pleasure getting sent up to your brain, overstimulating all of your senses. The euphoria continues to build, and you don't know if it will ever end - if the tension will ever snap.

♡ The rising pleasure within you is starting to overwhelm you, having never felt so full before. Just when you thought you couldn't handle much more, the Prince slides one of his hands down to your sex, massaging you in tandem with his pace. Your nails dig into the flesh of his muscular shoulders as he finally pushes you over the edge. He finds himself following suit not long after, the feeling of your tight hole clenching around him making him unable to hold back any longer.

♡ Both of your moans fill the air as you ride out your climax together. Gasping for air, you hear a knock on the glass of the shower's door - you were so wrapped up in this moment together that neither of you heard Barbatos enter the bathroom. He waited until it sounded as though the two of you were finished before he interrupted your 'shower' - and now he's reminding you of the Young Master's busy schedule for today in a scolding tone, as he holds out towels for you both. Oops.

-> Anyways, you also love spending weekends at the Castle with him - it's easier to flow with his schedule that way. And of course Diavolo is going to invite you to his Saturday night soak; you're his favorite human, his lover, his partner…and it was originally your idea, in the first place!

-> Just know that this demon spent extensive time planning out your first bubble bath together - he had to pull out all of the stops!

-> The Friday morning beforehand, Barbatos comes in to wake up his Young Prince, only to find him already awake and making a rather large Akuzon order on his DDD. Scented candles, chocolate covered hellberries, vintage spirits - he was even considering calling in one of his favors to see if he could get some Celestial bubble bath expedited from the angelic realm. Cost is of no issue to him, wanting nothing more than to ensure the night's success. Barbatos scolds him several times throughout the day, the Prince seemingly distracted and prioritizing his night in with you over his paperwork.

-> When the time comes to set everything up, Diavolo insists on doing everything himself. He even threatens bribes Barbatos into going to Purgatory Hall for the evening - all so that he can do it all alone, eager to show you how much he cares about you. He has a brief moment of doubt as some of the Celestial bubble bath accidentally overflows onto the floor...but you're worth it, and he finishes fixing it all up right as you ring the front entrance anyways.

-> The scene set in his bathroom is so romantic, you wonder for a moment if you're actually in a movie. Abyss flower petals scattered around the floor. Candles set around the tub, the flickering glow dancing against the bathroom's tiles. Scented bubbles gently fizzing and popping, the light aroma filling the air and instantly making you feel relaxed. A bottle of champagne, specially ordered from the human realm, and set in an enchanted bucket of ice next to two hell-crystal champagne flutes. And your gorgeous Demon Prince standing in front of you, gently grabbing your hand to press his lips to your knuckles before he leads you over to the tub. If this is a dream, you definitely don't want to wake up...

-> After the two of you disrobe, you settle into the jacuzzi, and Diavolo gets you each a glass of champagne right after he presses the button to start up the water jets.

♡ It doesn't take much bubbly for the two of you to find yourselves in another heated moment - but the truth was, neither of you could hardly wait to jump the other from the moment you entered the bath's warm water. And now you find yourself in his lap, bouncing on his huge throbbing cock, the feeling of it filling you surprising you yet again. Every new position with the Prince feels like new territory, the way he strokes so deeply within you. Making you feel things you never have before - hitting spots you didn't know existed. This type of adventurous pleasure could become addicting...

♡ His golden eyes smolder with lust as he watches you, every gasp that escapes your lips pushing him closer and closer. Your little human hands grip at his scalp as his own fingers sink into the flesh of your hips. His lips find your neck, and his kisses gradually turn into light love bites, his fangs nipping little marks onto your skin as he thrusts up into you.

♡ "So good...all mine," he mumbles possessively against your neck.

♡ Your moans grow louder as Diavolo starts thrusting faster, taking the reigns as you let the building bliss take over your senses. He pulls away from you to see the way your eyes roll back in ecstasy as his hand glides down to your sex, massaging you in that spot that he knows drives you absolutely wild. Consumed by pleasure, that warm feeling of euphoria washes over you, your orgasm making you feel weightless in Diavolo's muscular arms.

♡ He's not done with you yet though - not even close. Switching positions, he picks you up in his arms and sets you down on the recessed bench in his bathtub. His hand grips under your thigh and pushes your leg up, a groan escaping his lips as he slides himself back into you. It had been merely a few moments, yet he had already missed the feeling of your tight warmth squeezing him so perfectly.

♡ He thrusts into you roughly and suddenly, the bath's water splashing and rippling against his gorgeous caramel skin with each stroke. You hadn't even come down from the high of your first orgasm, still feeling the aftershocks as Diavolo begins to fuck you faster and faster.

♡ Losing all restraint, his demon form slips out only a few moments before he hits his climax, causing his cock to grow even bigger. Your eyes widen as you feel him, his wings outstretched as he fills you with his royal seed - and you can't help but to join him, your orgasm overtaking you as well.

♡ Both panting for air, he picks you up and sits down with you in his lap, still throbbing deeply within you. He wraps his arms around you to hold you as you both catch your breath. Neither of you can help the smiles plastered across your faces, that blissful feeling still remaining as you sit with him in his loving embrace. Your cheek rests against his chest as his rests on top of your head, and he just knows that this is the happiest he's ever been in his long, demonic life.

-> Afterwards, as the two of you get ready for bed, Diavolo can't help the way his heart swells when he sees the way you've settled into his room. The way your things line the counter of his sink. The way you go to his wardrobe to retrieve your pajamas, instead of your bag. It's almost as if you live here in this Castle with him already - a thought as sweet as candy for the Young Devildom Prince.

-> And as you lay there snuggled up in his arms, your face buried in the crook of his neck, Diavolo contemplates asking you to move in with him right then and there. But you've already drifted off to sleep, so that will have to wait for another time. Looking down at you lovingly, his heart feels so full - he presses a kiss to the top of your head before laying back on his pillow, his eyes fluttering shut.

♡ "I love you so much," he whispers as he drifts off into his own slumber. With you in his arms and in his dreams, the Future Demon King can't help but to smile in his sleep.

· demonvibez ♡ 2024 · do not copy, repost or modify · · comments, reblogs and likes are deeply appreciated! ♡ ·

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solxamber · 7 days ago

Text

Trash Novel Chronicles: I Don't Want the Heroine || Ruggie Bucchi

You get isekai’d into what could only be described as an affront to literature, as the second male lead.

So you decide to cut all ties with the heroine and live a peaceful (wealthy) life with your secretary, Ruggie Bucchi. Except life doesn't go as planned as you get more chaos than you signed up for

Series Masterlist

You knew you were in for a ride the moment your so-called "friends" forced you to read the lowest-rated web novel of the year as punishment for losing a bet. And not just any bad web novel—no, this was the Mount Everest of literary disasters. A true champion of trash.

Some reviews said their IQ points dropped by atleast 20 points. Others swore their vision blurred after reading it. One particularly scathing reviewer said, “This book is responsible for my grandma’s untimely passing. She read it and gave up on life.”

So, armed with a drink (or three), you settled in to read. And oh, you were not ready.

The heroine is engaged to the Second Male Lead, a duke with infinite money, charisma, and love to give. He’s the human equivalent of a weighted blanket. And what does she do? She cheats on him with the Male Lead, Duke of the North, who is basically a human icicle.

The Male Lead, by the way, has the personality of a damp rock. His dialogue alternates between monosyllabic grunts and poetic nonsense like, “You remind me of a cloudy winter’s moon.” Sir, what does that even mean?

The villainess? Not even a villainess. Just the duke’s childhood best friend, who’s labeled as "mean to the heroine" because she has the audacity to call out her cheating. Somehow, this makes her evil.

Then there’s the business subplot. The heroine convinces the Second Male Lead to invest in a clearly terrible idea. He pours his entire fortune into it because she fluttered her eyelashes at him, and surprise, it fails. He loses his estate, his reputation, everything.

And does she apologize? Nope. She runs off with the Male Lead to frolic in snowy landscapes while the Second Male Lead becomes a “villain” and, of course, dies tragically.

And Ruggie. Poor, loyal Ruggie. The second male lead believed in him, gave him a job, and supported his family. Ruggie sticks by him until the bitter end, only to die too because this author hates happiness.

You finish the book in stunned silence. “What the actual hell?” you whisper, clutching your head. “Who gave this author access to the internet? Who greenlit this abomination?”

You need to breathe. You grab your coat and storm outside, still ranting under your breath. “If I ever meet the author of this garbage, I’m fighting them on sight. This is a hate crime. This book probably caused global warming. It—”

Suddenly, there’s a low rumble. You glance up, and your blood runs cold.

It’s a rogue truck. Carrying a full mariachi band. And it’s heading straight for you.

“Are you serious right now?” you shout at the universe.

The last thing you hear is a trumpet playing a very off-key version of Despacito before impact.

Your final thought as darkness takes you: I better not get isekai’d.

You wake up in an unfamiliar room, and for a blissful, fleeting moment, you think, Maybe the mariachi band killed me for good. Maybe I'm in heaven.

But then you see the gilded furniture, the obnoxiously large bed, and a wardrobe so stuffed with capes that you feel personally attacked. The truth hits you like a slap in the face: I got isekai’d. Of course. Because the universe hates me.

Then, you see the mirror. And what stares back at you isn’t your face. Oh no. It’s his face. The face of the poor, tragic Second Male Lead. The man destined to be scammed, betrayed, and emotionally wrecked by the most obnoxious heroine in existence.

You scream internally. Then externally. For a while.

You stumble out of the room, still in a haze of existential despair, and there’s Ruggie. Your loyal secretary, who looks like he’s had years shaved off his lifespan dealing with this nonsense.

“Good morning, boss.” Ruggie says, giving you a half-smirk. “Heroine’s asking about that investment again. You wanna reconsider?”

“Yes,” you say immediately. “Cancel it. Pull out everything.”

Ruggie freezes. “Everything?”

“Everything,” you repeat. Then, because you’re feeling generous (and also guilt-ridden because you know what’s coming for this man), you add, “Take 20% for yourself and your grandma. Put the rest back in the bank.”

Ruggie’s jaw drops. “You serious?”

“Dead serious.”

He stares at you for a second, then breaks into a grin so wide it could blind the sun. “Finally! I’ve been waiting years for you to wake up!”

Next, you sit down to write.

The first letter is to the heroine’s family: Dear Sirs, I regret to inform you that I am breaking off the engagement with your daughter, as she has the personality of a wet towel. Kind regards, Duke Idiot.

The second letter is to the Emperor: Your Imperial Majesty, please annul my engagement before I have a nervous breakdown. I am begging you. Also, I can bake cookies. Let me know if you’d like some. Yours in desperation, Duke Idiot.

By the time you’re done, you’re sweating, but it’s a cathartic kind of sweat. The kind that comes from breaking free of your chains—or in this case, an incredibly stupid plot.

Ruggie walks back in, still riding the high of not having to bankroll the heroine’s disastrous ideas. “What’s with the letters?”

“I’m saving myself,” you say dramatically.

He snorts. “Took you long enough.”

The first thing you do after finishing your letters is write one more—to the villainess.

It’s short and to the point: Come over. ASAP. I’m done enabling the heroine. Engagement's over.

When she arrives, it’s with the energy of someone who just won the lottery. She squeals, shakes you so hard you see stars, and pulls you into a bone-crushing hug. “FINALLY! You’ve woken up from the dumbest coma in history!”

You’re rubbing your temples and trying not to pass out from the intensity. “Yeah, yeah, thanks. Now stop shaking me or I’m going to puke on these ridiculously expensive boots.”

She laughs, but finally lets go, sitting across from you as you explain your plan to stop everything from becoming an unhinged dumpster fire. You’re mid-sentence when it happens.

First, the door bursts open, and the heroine comes storming in like a banshee, crying, screaming, and flailing.

“HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?” she shrieks, tears flowing down her cheeks like she’s auditioning for a telenovela.

“Do what?” you deadpan. “Not ruin my life for you? Sorry, I’m on a self-care journey.”

Before she can retort, there’s a second, even louder commotion. You look up, and it’s the Emperor himself. The actual Emperor.

“Oh, wonderful,” you mutter.

The Emperor strides in, looking equal parts amused and concerned. “I heard about your engagement breaking off. Thought you might’ve been possessed. I had to see this circus for myself.”

He’s barely seated when—because the universe hates you—the heroine drags in him: the Male Lead, aka the Duke of the North, aka Brick-Wall-With-a-Sword.

“This is unfair,” the heroine sobs, dramatically clutching the Male Lead’s arm. “He can’t do this to me! You’ll defend me, won’t you?”

The Duke grunts like a sentient tree stump. You guess that’s his version of “yes.”

What happens next is a symphony of chaos.

The heroine screams about betrayal. The Duke grunts out periodic agreements, like a caveman backup singer. The villainess is shrieking threats of peeling their skin off and making it into a fashionable handbag. You’re yelling at everyone to shut up, but no one listens.

Meanwhile, Ruggie peeks in, takes one look at the situation, and immediately decides he’s not paid enough for this. But, because he’s Ruggie, he grabs tea and cookies for the Emperor, who is thriving.

The Emperor pats the seat next to him. “Ruggie, my boy, sit. This is better than court drama. I wish the Empress could see this.”

They sip tea and munch on cookies while you slowly lose your mind.

Finally, you manage to silence the room. You glare at the heroine, who’s still sniffling like you personally ripped up her diary.

“It’s not your choice,” you say flatly. “I don’t like you anymore. Get over it.”

Her jaw drops. The Duke of the North lets out an indignant grunt.

You turn to him. “And you. Take her and leave before I dump water on her and she melts like the wicked witch she is.”

The villainess, not one to miss a petty opportunity, sticks her tongue out at them. You don’t stop her.

The Emperor finally finishes cackling and waves a hand. “Alright, alright. Annulment granted. Good luck cleaning up this mess.”

You turn to Ruggie, and without a word, you both high-five. It’s a perfect, satisfying smack.

The first thing you do after all the chaos is roll up your sleeves and confront the mess that was once "your" beautiful mansion. It’s cluttered with an assortment of hideous gowns, gaudy trinkets, and utterly pointless items the heroine insisted you buy.

A gold fan catches your eye—not because you like it, but because Ruggie is staring at it with the intensity of a starving man at a buffet.

“Take it,” you sigh, fondly exasperated.

Ruggie lights up like you’ve just handed him a winning lottery ticket. He mock salutes you and declares, “My eternal loyalty to you, my lord!” with the kind of dramatic flair that would make the villainess proud.

You almost laugh, but then you remember how fiercely loyal he is. You soften, ruffle his hair, and say, “Just promise me, if you ever get the chance, you’ll run for the hills.”

He frowns, mock offended. “What? And leave your kitchen un-raided? Never! You’re stuck with me.”

Your smile grows wider as you shake your head. “Fine, fine. Stay, then. But only if you keep making coffee the way I like.”

Later, as you’re tossing a truly horrifying pink lace monstrosity into the donation pile, the villainess strolls in like she owns the place.

“You know,” she says, eyeing the mess with an amused smirk, “we should throw a party.”

“A party?” you echo, already suspicious.

“Yes, a party!” she pauses, a wicked gleam in her eye, “To celebrate your freedom from Miss Overinflated Ego and her personal brick wall.”

You bark out a laugh, unable to help yourself. “You know what? Why not? Let’s celebrate. I deserve it.”

The villainess claps her hands in delight. “Perfect! I’ll handle the guest list.”

And, because she’s the villainess and can’t resist stirring the pot, she makes sure to send invitations to everyone: the heroine, the male lead, the Emperor, the Empress, and even the crown prince and the princess.

“It’s always nice to add a dash of drama,” she says, looking entirely too pleased with herself.

You just shake your head. “You’re unhinged, you know that?”

“And you’re just figuring this out?” she quips, already halfway out the door.

As she leaves, you sigh and glance at Ruggie, who’s now holding an ornate vase like he’s trying to figure out if it’s worth pawning.

“This party’s going to be a disaster, isn’t it?”

Ruggie grins. “Oh, absolutely. But hey, at least it’ll be entertaining.”

The rustling in the dead of night was faint, almost like the sound of a guilty conscience, but louder and significantly more annoying. Naturally, you reached for your sword, because what kind of noble sleeps without a weapon under their pillow? Amateurs, that’s who.

Tiptoeing through your dark mansion, you followed the suspicious noise, squinting in confusion as it led you... to the kitchen. The kitchen. Not the vaults, not the study with all the expensive heirlooms, but the place where snacks lived.

You paused in disbelief. Who the hell raids a kitchen? Am I getting robbed by a starving possum?

Creeping closer, you peered around the doorframe, sword raised and ready for battle, only to find—

“Ruggie,” you said flatly, and he jumped so hard he nearly hit the ceiling.

“GAH—! Don’t sneak up on people with a sword, you psychopath!” he yelped, clutching his chest like he was the victim here.

“I wasn’t sneaking, you were sneaking! In my kitchen!” you shot back, lowering your weapon.

Ruggie froze mid-cookie bite, looking every bit like a raccoon caught rifling through a trash can. “...Uh, you weren’t using this stuff?” he said, gesturing at the counter full of pilfered baked goods.

You rolled your eyes and plopped onto the floor next to him, plucking the cookie right out of his hand and taking a bite. “Well, I’m using it now.”

“Hey! That’s mine!” he protested, clutching the rest of his stash protectively.

“Is it, though? Is it really?” you countered, grinning as you chewed. He gasped dramatically, as if you’d just insulted his entire bloodline.

“Wow. Unbelievable. First you almost skewer me like I’m some thief in the night—”

“You are a thief in the night.”

“—and now you’re stealing my snacks?! You’re a menace.”

You laughed, getting up to grab some milk, because who raids a kitchen at 2 a.m. and doesn’t have milk with their cookies? While your back was turned, Ruggie sat there blinking, flustered as hell.

He’d been expecting a lecture, or at least some sarcastic comment about his “hyena instincts,” but you’d just… joined him. Like it was normal. Like you hadn’t caught him mid-cookie heist.

When you returned with two glasses of milk, you sat back down and offered him one. “You could’ve just asked, you know. I would’ve had the cook make you something.”

Ruggie stared at the glass, then at you, his ears twitching slightly. “...Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?” he said with a grin, but it lacked his usual confidence.

“Fair enough,” you said, leaning back against the counter with a sigh. The two of you sat there in companionable silence, munching on cookies like a pair of delinquents at a midnight picnic.

And while you were busy enjoying your snack, Ruggie was busy trying not to spontaneously combust. The way you were so chill about catching him red-handed, the way you shared your stolen spoils without a second thought—it wasn’t fair. You treated him like an equal, like a friend, and he liked it far more than he should.

Later, when you finally left, yawning and telling him to “try not to eat the entire kitchen,” Ruggie just sat there for a while, staring at the empty glass of milk like it had all the answers.

He was doomed. So, so doomed.

The state of your estate’s finances is beyond a joke—it’s a full-blown circus, complete with clown shoes and a unicycle on fire. You’re sitting at your desk late into the night with Ruggie by your side, trying to untangle the mess left behind by the original second male lead’s truly impressive levels of idiocy.

“Why,” you groan, slamming your head onto the table, “is 12% of the regional budget allocated to the heroine’s imported perfume?”

Ruggie snorts, peeking over your shoulder at the ledger. “Wait, what? Oh, no, this gets better. Look here—3% for ‘heroine’s nails.’”

You stare at him, unblinking, as your soul slowly leaves your body. “Her. Nails.”

“Oh, but my favorite,” Ruggie says, barely suppressing his laughter, “is this one: monthly support sent to the male lead’s territory. Why? The man’s got a literal fortress of gold up north. What kind of simp were you?”

“A professional simp,” you reply dryly, shaking your head in disgust. “I’m cutting all of this. Every last drop. No more perfume fund, no more nail allowance, and definitely no more donations to the male lead’s Scrooge McDuck vault.”

By the time you’re done, the heroine’s absurd luxuries have been replaced with something actually useful. The funds are reallocated to schools for commoners, infrastructure, and most importantly, your own staff.

When you announce the changes, the staff look at you like you’ve descended from the heavens. One of the maids starts tearing up when she hears about her raise. The head butler—usually so reserved—bows so deeply you think his back might give out.

You should feel accomplished, but the ledger on your desk is still screaming chaos incarnate, and you’re barely halfway through.

It’s nearly midnight when Ruggie silently slides a cup of coffee onto the desk in front of you. He pats your shoulder, his usual teasing smile replaced with something softer.

“You’re doing good, boss,” he says quietly, almost like he’s trying not to spook you.

You’re too sleep-deprived to respond with your usual wit. Instead, you lean into his touch without thinking, resting your head against his side. Your arms wrap around his middle in a tired hug.

Ruggie freezes, a hand hovering awkwardly over your head like he’s not sure what to do. After a moment, he gives in, patting your head gently.

“You okay there?” he asks, voice tinged with a rare gentleness.

“Exhausted,” you mumble, not bothering to move.

You don’t notice the way Ruggie’s ears twitch, or how his grin softens into something almost shy.

“Well, get some rest when you can,” he murmurs, still patting your head like he’s afraid to stop.

You don’t see it, but he looks utterly smitten, like you’ve just handed him the world on a silver platter.

It’s supposed to be a quick shopping trip—in and out, you told yourself. Just something small to thank Ruggie for all his hard work. You’re scanning the shelves, debating between a sleek gold pen and a bottle of spiced honey, when you hear a low, amused voice behind you.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the drama queen himself.”

You turn to find Leona, Grand Duke of Sleep Deprivation, lounging against the nearest shelf like he’s modeling for a Royalty Weekly cover.

“Leona,” you say. “What are you doing here? Buying Cheka another excuse to follow you around?”

He scoffs. “As if. I’m just here for—” He pauses, like he can’t bring himself to admit the truth. “…Supplies.”

“Supplies?” you echo, grinning. “You mean you’re buying Cheka a treat because you’re a softie and love him?”

Leona glares, but his cheeks betray him by flushing. “Keep running your mouth and see what happens.”

You laugh, elbowing him lightly. “Relax, I think it’s cute. A Grand Duke doting on his nephew? Adorable.”

You bumped into Jack not long after, and the three of you somehow ended up making a day of it, wandering between stalls and laughing at Leona’s muttered commentary about overpriced trinkets and Jack’s earnest attempts to justify why buying locally was a good investment.

Then you saw it—a brooch glinting in the sunlight, its design simple yet elegant. It wasn’t flashy, but it reminded you of Ruggie—sharp, understated, and unexpectedly striking. Without hesitation, you bought it.

By the time you returned to your estate and handed the gift to Ruggie, you were grinning ear to ear, excited to see his reaction. He unwrapped it carefully, his eyes widening as he held the brooch up to the light.

“This… is for me?” he asked, his voice unusually soft.

“Of course,” you said, suddenly self-conscious under his gaze. “You’ve done so much. It’s just a small thank-you.”

Ruggie turned the brooch over in his hands before looking back at you. “Can you… pin it on me?”

You blinked. “Uh, sure.”

You moved closer, carefully attaching the brooch to his lapel while hyper-focusing on not stabbing your fingers. Meanwhile, Ruggie was not focused on the brooch.

No, his attention was entirely on you—on the way your brows furrowed in concentration, the way your lips pursed slightly as you worked. His chest felt tight, and he was starting to wonder if this was what it felt like to lose all sense of self-preservation.

You finally stepped back, admiring your handiwork. “There. Looks good.”

Ruggie just nodded, his throat too dry to say anything coherent. He could still feel the ghost of your touch against his chest, and it was taking everything in him not to burst into flames on the spot.

You didn’t notice his predicament, thankfully. “Well, back to work,” you said brightly, walking off.

As soon as you were out of sight, Ruggie let out a shaky breath and muttered to himself, “I’m so doomed.”

The villainess was already three glasses of wine in and laughing so hard at her own audacity, she could barely stand. “A rented lion!” she cackled, pointing dramatically at the majestic creature pacing near the garden fountains. “For the aesthetic!”

You, on the other hand, were seriously contemplating your life choices. The massive banner that screamed INDEPENDENCE DAY was hanging crookedly over the ballroom, and the air was thick with the unmistakable aroma of petty vengeance.

“I can’t believe you actually rented a lion,” you muttered, rubbing your temples.

“Oh, please,” the villainess scoffed, swirling her wine like she was the protagonist of a soap opera. “This is art. You think I’m going to let those clowns think they’ve won?”

To her credit, the guests were loving it. The Emperor himself had already burst into laughter upon arrival and was gleefully elbowing the Empress, who seemed equally entertained. The Crown Prince looked ready to dig his own grave, while the Princess had stationed herself with a perfect view, sipping wine and munching on what you suspected was popcorn.

Things were going well. Too well.

The heroine and her brick wall—er, male lead—were nowhere in sight, and for the first time in your newly isekai’d existence, you allowed yourself to relax. You leaned against the wine table, sipping from your glass while watching Ruggie shamelessly stuff his pockets with sweets.

“You know, I would save you some for later,” you began, raising a brow, “at this rate, you’re going to look like a human vending machine.”

Ruggie grinned, unapologetic. “Hey, free food’s free food. You’re lucky I haven’t swiped the centerpiece yet.”

You were about to retort when the sound of clicking heels sent a chill down your spine.

The heroine had arrived.

And, oh. Oh no.

She was wearing a dress so hideous, it was almost a work of art—a monstrous blend of every fashion crime known to mankind. Glitter? Check. Feathers? Double check. A color palette that looked like someone microwaved a rainbow? You bet.

Trailing behind her was the male lead, as stoic and emotionless as ever. You half-expected someone to prop a potted plant next to him just to see if anyone could tell the difference.

The heroine took one look at the massive INDEPENDENCE DAY banner and visibly trembled with rage. For a second, you thought she was going to scream, but instead, she plastered on a disturbingly sweet smile and marched straight over to you.

“Good evening,” she greeted, her voice dripping with false politeness.

You stared at her, torn between running for your life and bursting out laughing. Before you could respond, you caught sight of the Emperor out of the corner of your eye. He was openly pointing at you now, whispering something to the Empress, who was struggling to contain her laughter.

The villainess chose this exact moment to loudly announce, “Thank you all for coming to celebrate the Duke's independence from the worst fate in history!”

The heroine’s smile twitched. You swore you heard her teeth crack under the pressure.

You were just starting to think you might survive the evening when it happened.

The male lead, previously silent, suddenly stomped forward, grabbed a glove from his pocket, and chucked it square at your face.

“Are you kidding me?” you blurted, rubbing your nose.

“I challenge you to a duel,” he growled, his first full sentence of the night.

The room went silent. Somewhere in the back, the Emperor let out a delighted laugh. The villainess looked ready to commit several felonies.

“Oh my God,” you muttered, face-palming. “I guess I have to do it now.”

As the ballroom descended into chaos, Ruggie shot you a glare that could’ve melted steel.

“You better not get hurt,” he hissed under his breath, clinging to your sleeve like a particularly annoyed cat. “I swear, if you let that walking brick wall land even one hit on you—”

“Relax, Ruggie,” you said, patting his hand. “Not only will I win, I’ll make him crawl back and return every penny I sent to his estate.”

Ruggie didn’t look convinced, but he let go, muttering something about how this whole thing was “stupid as hell.”

What you didn’t see was the way his eyes softened as he watched you step forward, or how his hands clenched into fists as the male lead unsheathed his sword.

All Ruggie knew was that he hated this—hated the way the heroine acted like she still owned you, hated the way the male lead had the audacity to challenge you, and most of all, hated the knot of fear twisting in his chest.

He refused to think about why.

The moment the male lead flung his glove at you, the atmosphere in the ballroom turned tense with excitement—or in the Emperor’s case, barely restrained glee. But just as you were resigning yourself to this absurd duel, Leona sauntered over, looking as though this entire situation was a personal insult to his time.

“Real swords? For this?” Leona gestured lazily at the male lead, his lip curling in a smirk. “You’re wasting everyone’s energy. Let’s not pretend this is anything more than a glorified temper tantrum.”

The male lead bristled but didn’t dare argue against the Grand Duke. “Then… wooden swords, if you insist,” he muttered, trying to maintain some shred of dignity.

You tried to stifle a laugh as Leona smirked and clapped you on the shoulder. “You’re welcome, herbivore. Try not to embarrass yourself.”

By the time you all reached the garden, the tension had more or less deflated, and the Emperor had officially declared this the greatest event of the year. He was lounging on a cushioned seat with a glass of wine, while the Princess had claimed the spot next to him, now munching on a small pie she’d somehow procured.

The male lead, as always, had the charisma of a doorstop, stomping forward with all the grace of a falling tree. You picked up your wooden sword, internally thanking the heavens that Leona had stepped in because you weren’t in the mood to lose a limb for someone this dumb.

But just as the male lead was taking his place, he suddenly slipped.

There was a resounding thud as he fell face-first onto the ground.

“...No way,” you muttered, blinking in disbelief.

The heroine shrieked, rushing to his side. “My love! Are you hurt? Speak to me!”

He didn’t. Because the man fainted. From falling.

You froze, staring at the unmoving figure on the ground. The villainess was trying—and failing—not to burst into hysterics, while Leona let out a bark of laughter so loud it startled the lion still lounging by the fountain.

“Seriously?” you said aloud, half to yourself, half to the universe. You weren’t sure if you were horrified, embarrassed, or just... done.

You crouched down to help the heroine lift the unconscious man, despite every fiber of your being screaming not to. “Fine,” you grumbled. “Let’s get him to the carriage.”

As you heaved him up, you happened to catch a glimpse of Ruggie, standing casually by the garden path with his arms crossed. He had an innocent expression on his face—too innocent. And then, just as the heroine fussed over her fainted fiancé, you saw it: Ruggie’s foot subtly nudging a small marble out of sight, a mischievous smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

You froze mid-step.

“...Ruggie.”

He blinked at you, all wide-eyed innocence. “Yeah, boss?”

“You didn’t.”

“Didn’t what?”

You sighed, shaking your head as you loaded the male lead into the carriage with the heroine trailing after him. When you turned back, Ruggie was grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

Once you were out of earshot of the heroine, you flicked him on the forehead.

“Oi!” he yelped, rubbing the spot with a pout. “What was that for?”

“Don’t play dumb,” you said, crossing your arms. “Why’d you do it?”

Ruggie grinned again, completely unapologetic. “Well, I am your right-hand man, aren’t I? Gotta look out for you.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “One day, your schemes are going to get us both killed.”

“Maybe,” he said with a shrug. “But it’s a small price to pay for seeing that guy face-plant into the dirt.”

You couldn’t help it—you laughed, shaking your head as you waved him off. “Fine. Just… no more schemes, okay?”

“No promises, boss.”

The morning was unnervingly quiet. No bustling sounds of Ruggie banging on your door, no sly remarks about how you were sleeping in like royalty—just silence. For a moment, you wondered if you were dreaming.

It wasn’t until you asked the head butler about his whereabouts that the unsettling calm made sense.

“He is unwell,” the butler said with a somber tone. “He has a fever and requested the day off to rest.”

Ruggie… sick? Something about that didn’t sit right with you.

You found yourself standing in front of his door with a tray of soup in hand. The thought of someone as vibrant and energetic as Ruggie being bedridden made your chest ache in a way you weren’t ready to address. With a deep breath, you pushed the door open.

Ruggie looked wrecked. His usually sharp eyes were glazed over, and his hair was messier than usual, plastered to his forehead with sweat. His gaze met yours hazily, and the way his lips curled into the faintest semblance of a smile sent a pang through your chest.

“Boss?” he croaked out, voice scratchy.

You didn’t answer right away, just moving to his bedside and placing the tray on the table. “You look terrible,” you said softly, helping him sit up. “Eat this.”

It took some coaxing, but eventually, he let you spoon-feed him. He was quiet for once, too tired to banter, but the way he leaned into your touch as you adjusted his blanket spoke volumes.

When the soup was finished, you fussed over him—checking his temperature, brushing his hair out of his face, making sure he was comfortable.

And then, without warning, Ruggie slumped forward, his head resting on your shoulder. You stiffened in surprise, but before you could ask if he was okay, his hand gripped your sleeve weakly.

“Don’t go,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. His words were slurred with exhaustion, but there was a vulnerability in them that made your heart clench.

You didn’t have the heart to refuse. Carefully, you adjusted him so he was lying more comfortably, his head still resting against your shoulder as you held him close.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered into his ear, voice softer than you thought yourself capable of. “Not until you want me to.”

When Ruggie woke up in the evening, the first thing he noticed was that he was warm and oddly comfortable. The second thing he noticed was you.

You were still holding him, sitting beside him with your back against the headboard. Your eyes were closed, head tilted slightly, but it was clear you hadn’t left his side.

Ruggie’s face turned an impressive shade of red as he tried to process the fact that it wasn’t a fever dream. He had clung to you, and you had stayed.

You stirred as he moved slightly, your eyes fluttering open. “You’re awake,” you said, voice soft and laced with sleep. “Feeling better?”

Ruggie nodded, his cheeks still burning. “Yeah… uh, thanks for… y’know. All this.”

You smiled awkwardly, rubbing the back of your neck. “It’s nothing. Just… don’t get used to it, okay?”

He let out a weak chuckle, though his heart was racing. “Right. Won’t happen again.”

You stood up, suddenly eager to escape the room. “Rest up,” you said, heading for the door. “Don’t make me come back.”

As soon as the door shut behind you, Ruggie buried his face in his hands, groaning. He could still feel the warmth of your touch, still hear the soft way you’d whispered that you’d stay as long as he wanted. His heart wouldn’t stop pounding, and he didn’t know what to do with the newfound realization that he was in way too deep.

Meanwhile, you were in your own room, face buried in your pillow as you screamed silently. Your heart was fluttering uncontrollably, and you couldn’t stop thinking about how warm he felt against you, or the way he’d looked at you so trustingly.

“What was that?” you mumbled into your pillow, kicking your legs in frustration. “What is this? Why does it feel like this?”

The questions swirled in your mind, unresolved, until you eventually passed out from sheer exhaustion, still clutching your pillow like it could answer the million questions in your heart.

The aftermath of The Incident—as you had now dubbed it in the privacy of your screaming brain—was unbearable. If you thought working with Ruggie before had its awkward moments (like the time you accidentally said, “Goodnight, love you,” at the end of a meeting), it was nothing compared to the soul-crushing embarrassment you now lived in.

The atmosphere between you and Ruggie had changed. It wasn’t just awkward—it was the kind of awkward that could suffocate an entire room. If awkwardness could be weaponized, you and Ruggie would have already leveled three kingdoms.

Every time his hand brushed yours when passing papers, your brain short-circuited like a faulty crystal ball. Every time he brought you coffee, your chest felt warm and fuzzy, and not in the “cozy” way, but in the “I think I’m having a heart attack” way.

Just being in the same room as him turned your once-functional body into a mess of sweaty palms and wildly beating heartbeats. When did the genre of this book change from fantasy to survival horror?

And Ruggie? Oh, he wasn’t doing any better. In fact, he might have been worse.

This man had survived the slums, terrifying loan sharks, and whatever unholy concoction the heroine called “breakfast,” but this? This was a new level of torment. Every time you smiled at him, he wanted to kiss you so badly he thought his brain might explode.

Every time you thanked him for doing something as basic as his job, he had to clench his fists to stop himself from blurting out, “Marry me right now, I’ll sign a prenup, I don’t care.”

The worst part? He knew this was a one-way ticket to Heartbreak City. You were a duke—practically royalty. He was… a secretary. A secretary with zero noble lineage and a past so humble it made the word “humble” look luxurious.

His job description did not include being in love with his employer, and yet, here he was, a walking violation of the workplace etiquette handbook.

So, Ruggie pined. He pined so hard it was a miracle he hadn’t sprouted roots. He burned quietly, like a cheap candle from a market stall that melted down into a pathetic puddle of wax.

And you? You weren’t doing much better. Every night, you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling and whisper-yelling at yourself. “Why am I like this? Why is he like this? What is happening to me? Am I dying?”

Ruggie, on the other hand, stayed awake at night dramatically sighing into his pillow. “Stop looking at me like that,” he whispered to no one in particular, clutching the imaginary vision of your face. “You don’t even know what you’re doing to me.”

The tension was so thick that even the staff noticed. The head butler had started placing bets with the gardener and the knights about who would crack first. The maids whispered conspiratorially about how long it would take before the Duke accidentally proposed during a budget meeting. The chef had taken to leaving heart-shaped biscuits in the break room just to mess with you both.

You both thought you were suffering in silence.

You weren’t.

Everyone knew. Everyone knew. And everyone was waiting for the day this slow-burn disaster finally combusted.

The garden party had started so peacefully. You’d been standing off to the side, sipping on juice and chatting with Jack and Leona, trying to ignore the usual nonsense that came with these noble gatherings. For a blissful five minutes, everything was… fine.

And then chaos erupted.

One second, you were laughing at one of Leona’s grumbled comments about the Emperor's ridiculous hat. The next, you spotted the male lead grabbing Ruggie by the collar, his expression an infuriating mixture of smugness and anger.

You didn’t think you’d ever moved so fast in your life.

Leona and Jack followed closely as you stormed across the garden, your juice long forgotten, your mind set on one thing: getting Ruggie out of that pompous idiot’s grip.

Without hesitation, you grabbed the male lead’s hand and yanked it off Ruggie with more force than strictly necessary. Your other hand automatically went to Ruggie’s shoulder, checking on him. His cheeks were flushed—whether from embarrassment, anger, or both—and he looked like he was about to say something, probably telling you to let it go. But you weren’t in the mood to let anything go.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you demanded, your voice sharp enough to cut through the polite chatter of the party.

The male lead opened his mouth to answer, but before he could get a word out, the heroine appeared, her voice grating like nails on a chalkboard.

“He needs to learn his place,” she said, crossing her arms with an air of entitlement so thick it made your teeth grind. “He’s just a secretary. He refused to fetch drinks for us. He only works for you.”

The sheer audacity of her words made your blood boil. Your hands shook, and you barely noticed Jack placing a calming hand on one of them—or the fact that your other hand had already reached for the hilt of your sword.

“I’ll show you knowing your place,” you muttered, and started to unsheathe your sword.

Jack, ever the voice of reason, gave your arm a small squeeze and shook his head, silently pleading with you to reconsider committing murder at a garden party. For now.

And that’s when it hit you.

Your fury wasn’t just about the insult. It wasn’t just about the entitlement or the injustice of the situation. It was because they’d grabbed him. Ruggie.

You’d been in love with him all along, hadn’t you? And it wasn’t the quiet kind of love, either—it was the fiery, all-consuming kind that made you want to burn the world down for him.

You turned back to Ruggie, who was standing there looking flustered but defiant, his mouth set in a line of determination even as his ears betrayed his embarrassment by twitching slightly.

You did what any sane person would do in that moment.

You grabbed him by the arm, pulled him close, and kissed him.

Right there.

In front of everyone.

There was a stunned silence for a split second before the garden party exploded into chaos. The Emperor clapped like an overexcited seal, practically shouting his delight. The princess squealed, delightedly whispering to her ladies-in-waiting, who were fanning themselves with excitement. Leona looked entirely unsurprised, like he’d been waiting for this nonsense to resolve itself for months.

Ruggie, meanwhile, stood frozen in place, his face as red as the roses lining the garden, his hands hovering awkwardly in the air like he had no idea what to do with them.

Before he could recover enough to say anything, you turned to the heroine, your voice cold and commanding.

“He’s my lover,” you declared, loud enough for everyone to hear. “And I will personally write an official complaint to your family for your insult.”

The heroine’s jaw dropped. The male lead looked like he’d swallowed a lemon. The villainess, who had somehow materialized out of thin air to watch the drama, cackled so hard she spilled wine all over her gown.

You didn’t care. You wrapped an arm around Ruggie’s waist and turned on your heel, marching out of the garden with your still-dazed secretary in tow.

By the time you reached a quiet corner of the estate, Ruggie finally seemed to snap out of it. “What… What was that?” he asked, his voice half a squeak, his face still bright red.

“That,” you said, your voice softening as you looked at him, “was me making it clear to everyone that I’m not letting you go. Ever.”

Ruggie stared at you, his mouth opening and closing like he was trying to find the words, but none were coming. You couldn’t help but grin.

“Take your time,” you teased. “But just so you know, you’re stuck with me now. Hope you’re okay with that.”

He laughed weakly, shaking his head. “Stuck with you? Boss, I think you’ve got it backward. I’m not going anywhere.”

Later that evening, you found yourself in the quiet glow of your study, seated across from Ruggie. He was fidgeting, avoiding your gaze, his usual sharp wit dulled by the tension hanging between you. You had dragged him here after the chaos of the garden party, determined to finally clear the air.

He finally looked at you, and it was like something cracked open in his expression—raw, vulnerable, terrified. “Boss,” he started, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it, “you don’t… you don’t get it.”

“Don’t get what?” you asked, leaning forward, your heart pounding in your chest.

“This.” He gestured vaguely between the two of you, his hand trembling slightly. “You’re… you. You’re a duke, you’re incredible, you’re—” He cut himself off with a shaky breath. “And I’m me. I’ve spent my whole life scraping by, looking out for myself. I’m not… someone people keep. I’m not someone people love.”

“Ruggie—”

“No, listen.” He ran a hand through his hair, his words tumbling out in a rush. “You think you love me now, but you’ll wake up one day and realize I’m not enough. That I can’t give you what someone else could. And it’s gonna—” His voice cracked. “It’s gonna shatter me if I let myself believe this could work, and then you leave.”

Your heart ached at the sight of him, the weight of his fears laid bare. This cunning, resilient hyena, who could outwit anyone and charm his way out of anything, was utterly lost when it came to your love.

“I’m not going to leave,” you said firmly, standing and walking over to him.

He let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “You say that now—”

You grabbed his hands, forcing him to look at you. “Ruggie,” you said, your voice trembling with the intensity of your feelings, “do you have any idea how much I ache for you?”

His breath hitched, his eyes wide as he stared at you like you’d just spoken a language he didn’t understand.

“You’re smart. You’re funny. You’re cunning as hell. And you’ve been utterly blind to the fact that I’ve been completely in love with you this entire time,” you continued, your voice rising slightly. “You’ve got this idea in your head that you’re not enough, but you are. You’ve been my priority for a long time now, and there’s no one who could ever match me like you do.”

He tried to pull away, but you didn’t let him. Instead, you cupped his face in your hands and kissed him, desperate and full of all the love you hadn’t been able to put into words.

For a moment, he froze. Then his arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer, and he kissed you back like you were the only thing keeping him alive. It wasn’t graceful—Ruggie never did anything by halves. It was messy and raw and so full of affection it made your knees weak.

When you finally broke apart, his forehead rested against yours, and you could feel his breath on your skin.

“I’ll do whatever it takes to prove it to you,” you whispered. “I don’t care what anyone else thinks. I’m yours, Ruggie. Completely.”

His laugh was watery, breaking slightly as he buried his face in your shoulder. “You’re insane, you know that?”

“Probably,” you said, smiling through the tears that threatened to spill over.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “You mean it?”

“With everything I am.”

His lips quirked into a shaky smile before he kissed you again, softer this time but no less consuming. When he pulled back, he let out a breathless laugh, wiping at his face with the back of his hand.

“I’m never gonna stop teasing you about this,” he said, his voice trembling but light.

“You’d better not,” you replied, grinning at him.

And for the first time, you saw it—the way he looked at you, like you’d hung the stars in the sky.

The Empress swept into your estate like a regal hurricane, her entourage trailing behind her like obedient leaves in the wind. You barely had time to register her arrival before she was striding up to you, her heels clicking with authority.

“Duke,” she greeted you, her smile warm but her eyes glinting with mischief. “We need to talk.”

Oh no. Those were words that could make even the bravest soul break into a sweat.

She dragged you into a private corner of the drawing room, her grip iron despite the delicate lace gloves she wore. Once you were sufficiently isolated from prying ears, she fixed you with a conspiratorial grin.

“So,” she began, leaning in like she was about to share the kingdom’s deepest secrets. “When’s the wedding?”

You blinked. “...Your Majesty?”

She pouted like a child denied dessert. “Don’t play coy. The whole court saw your little garden party performance. The kiss? The declaration of love? The scandal! It was delightful.” She clasped her hands together dreamily. “I give it five stars. Now, when are you making it official?”

You stared at her, feeling like you’d just been hit by a runaway carriage. “We just confessed to each other two days ago.”

“And?”

“And?!” You threw your hands up, exasperated. “Your Majesty, we’ve barely had time to process our feelings, let alone plan a wedding!”

She sighed, clearly unimpressed with your lack of urgency. “Fine, I’ll give you time. But don’t take too long. The court thrives on drama, and you’re the main event right now.”

Before you could respond to that absurdity, she straightened, her expression shifting from playful to businesslike. “Now, on to more pressing matters. I came here to ask if you’d like to file a formal complaint against the heroine.”

“Oh, you know,” she said airily, inspecting her nails. “For the garden party incident, her persistent attempts to undermine your relationship, the time she cheated on you, and, oh yes, the money laundering."

If you were a better person, perhaps you’d have been moved to forgiveness. Maybe you’d have found it in your heart to let bygones be bygones. But alas, you were not that person.

“I want to sue her to the last penny,” you said, your voice flat but resolute.

The Empress’s smile was nothing short of gleeful. “Excellent. Trial will be held next week. My son, the Crown Prince, will preside over the case.”

“Wait,” you said, frowning. “The Crown Prince? Isn’t that a bit—”

“Messy?” She finished for you, her grin widening. “Of course it is. But what’s politics without a little chaos? Besides, he could use the practice.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, wondering how your life had spiraled into such madness.

The Empress patted your shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t worry, Duke. I’m sure you’ll win. And if not, well, at least the trial will be the most entertaining thing the court has seen in decades.”

And with that, she swept out of the room, leaving you standing there, wondering how suing your ex-fiancée had somehow become a royal spectacle.

The trial was absurd. It had all the seriousness of a court proceeding mixed with the dramatic flair of a poorly written soap opera.

Every time the prince asked the heroine a simple question—“Did you steal the money?”—she would dissolve into a sobbing mess, dramatically wailing about how she “never meant for this to happen.” And every time, the male lead would grunt sympathetically, rubbing her back like a mother comforting a toddler who scraped their knee.

It would’ve been almost sweet if they weren’t both complete imbeciles and if the male lead didn’t still have a massive bump on his forehead from his earlier slip-and-faint incident. The man looked like he’d gotten into a fight with a marble and lost. Spectacularly.

You, sitting there in the gallery, were one sob away from walking out. The princess, who was co-presiding with her brother, looked two seconds away from leaning over and smashing her gavel just to make the crying stop.

Finally, the prince, clearly regretting every life choice that led him here, pinched the bridge of his nose and turned to you. “Do you want the money back?” he asked, his voice deadpan.

“Yes, Your Highness,” you said, as if it wasn’t the most obvious thing in the world. “And also the money I sent to the male lead… on the heroine’s insistence.”

The princess blinked. “You gave him money? Why?”

“Because I’m an idiot with too much patience,” you muttered, throwing a pointed glare at the heroine. She sniffled, clearly offended that you didn’t love being conned like a fool.

The prince let out a deep sigh, the kind that said he was done. “Fine. You win. Everything will be returned to you. This trial is over.”

There was a brief moment of stunned silence, interrupted only by the heroine’s gasp. “That’s it?! You’re just taking their side?” she cried, clutching the male lead’s arm like a lifeline.

“I am taking the side of my own sanity,” the prince snapped, slamming his gavel down. “You, will be assigned to community service for your insensitive comments.”

“Community… service?” she squeaked.

“Yes. Community service. Volunteering, cleaning up public spaces, helping out—actual work for people who aren’t you. It’ll be good for your character,” the princess said, smiling sweetly, which only made it worse.

“And as for you,” the prince continued, turning to the male lead, “you’re being sent on probation. In the North. Until further notice.”

The male lead blinked, his hand frozen mid-rub on the heroine’s back. “I have to go back to the North?”

“Yes. It’s cold, it’s boring, and it’s far away. Enjoy.”

By the time the trial ended, you were practically skipping out of the courtroom, feeling vindicated and maybe a little petty. The heroine, meanwhile, was still sobbing, the male lead looked like he wanted to protest but didn’t have the brain cells to formulate a counterargument, and the prince was rubbing his temples like he’d aged ten years in one afternoon.

Justice? Achieved. And it was glorious.

Ruggie had always been good at acting like nothing flustered him. It was practically a survival skill at this point—quick with a joke, quicker with an excuse, and faster than anyone else when it came to running away from situations he didn’t want to deal with.

But despite your confessions, despite the months that had passed, he still treated you more like a boss than a lover. You didn’t mind, not really—he made sure you were fed, handled your schedule with cutthroat efficiency, and somehow managed to keep both the court and your enemies at bay with nothing but charm and underhanded tactics.

The problem was, he still blushed like a maiden whenever you so much as held his hand.

It was hilarious.

The first time you kissed his cheek in front of some nobles, he nearly choked on air and then tried to play it off like you’d just hit him with an unexpected tactical strike.

The second time, you whispered something sweet in his ear, and he almost dropped the stack of documents he was carrying—almost. His reflexes were too sharp for that, but he still shot you a look like you’d personally thrown him off a cliff.

So naturally, when you cornered him in your office one day and asked, "Ruggie, do you wanna marry me?"—you were prepared for some kind of reaction.

You weren’t prepared for absolute silence.

His ears twitched. His tail flicked. His mouth opened, then closed. He looked like a man staring directly into the sun and realizing, all too late, that he had nowhere to hide.

Your heart sank. You weren’t sure what answer you’d expected, but hesitation wasn’t it.

“…Never mind,” you said, pulling back, smoothing over the moment like it was just another conversation. “Take your time.” And because he still looked like you’d asked him to solve advanced calculus on the spot, you reached up, pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, and whispered, "I'll see you at dinner."

Then you left, because you weren’t cruel enough to make him answer right away.

Dinner was… tense.

Not outwardly, no—Ruggie still stole extra servings off your plate, still flicked a pea at you when he thought no one was looking, still made a sharp comment about how the nobles were painfully useless for people who wore so much gold.

But his ears kept twitching. His tail was restless. And when you finally—gently—asked, "Alright, what's up?" he looked at you like you’d caught him stealing from your vault.

Then, slowly, he pulled out a ring.

Not just any ring. It was old, worn with time, but polished with care. A deep blue stone sat in the center, catching the light like the sky before a storm.

Ruggie took a breath, then said, "It’s my grandma’s. Been in the family forever." He hesitated, then pushed it towards you, still not quite meeting your eyes. "I want you to have it."

You stared. Your chest tightened. "Ruggie—"

He shifted, ears flattening. "I only hesitated ‘cause—‘cause I didn’t know if you’d even want it. Y’know. Since you got all this—" He gestured vaguely to your wealth, to the ridiculous palace you lived in, to everything he wasn’t.

That was possibly the dumbest thing you’d ever heard.

You slid the ring on immediately.

Then, with zero warning, you grabbed him by the waist, spun him around like you were sweeping him off his feet (because you were), and kissed him.

The yelp he let out was glorious.

“Oi—what the hell—”

“You absolute idiot,” you whispered against his lips, grinning. “You think I’d ever say no to you?”

He was so red. You’d never let him live this down.

But after a moment, he huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "Guess I'm stuck with ya now, huh?"

"You're the one who proposed, Ruggie," you pointed out, smirking.

"...Tch. You asked me first!"

"And you made me wait."

Ruggie groaned dramatically, but there was no real annoyance in it—just affection.

Hand in hand, still bickering, still laughing, you walked back to your office.

This time, engaged.

Jack was the first to react.

The moment the words left your mouth—"We're engaged."—he nearly knocked over his drink in his rush to stand. "Congratulations!" he said, voice full of genuine warmth, his tail wagging just slightly despite his usual composed demeanor.

Ruggie, ever the smug little menace, leaned back in his chair, lazily draping an arm over yours like this wasn’t the most important announcement of his life. “’Course we are,” he said, grinning. “I mean, who else could put up with him, right?”

The casual act might’ve been more convincing if he hadn’t kept sneaking little glances at you when he thought you weren’t looking.

The Empress, meanwhile, was beyond pleased.

“Oh, this is wonderful,” she declared, practically vibrating with excitement. “Naturally, I shall officiate.”

“Excuse me?” The Emperor raised a brow. “Why do you get to officiate?”

“I called it first, obviously,” she said, as if this was an unquestionable truth of the universe.

“That’s not how that works.”

“It is if I win.”

The room watched in fascinated silence as the rulers of the entire empire prepared to settle this with the most sacred of duels: rock, paper, scissors.

The battle was tense. The atmosphere, electric. The stakes, higher than ever.

And in the end—

“Ha! Paper beats rock!” The Empress shot her husband a triumphant look, eyes gleaming. “Looks like I win, darling.”

The Emperor sighed, but he took the loss with grace, muttering something about “marrying them off in spirit” while the rest of the room moved on like this wasn’t the most absurd thing to witness at a royal event.

The princess wasted no time.

She practically lunged across the table, grabbing your hands with wide, pleading eyes. “Can you invite me to the wedding party? Please? Please? I’ll be so good, I promise.”

“…You’re literally a princess,” you said, raising a brow. “You could just be in the wedding party.”

“Yes, but it’s more fun if you invite me yourself.”

The prince, the only normal one here, merely gave you a polite smile and a firm pat on the back—a little too firm. Ruggie snickered when you nearly stumbled forward.

Leona, of course, was the least surprised out of everyone. He just gave you a lazy grin and said, “’Bout time.”

Typical.

And as you sat there, hand in hand with Ruggie, surrounded by friends (and also an unreasonably competitive royal couple), you had a thought.

Reading that trash novel was the best thing you could've ever done.

Complete Masterlist ; Series Masterlist

It's been a while since I did one of these, who do y'all wanna see next in this series?

#twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #ruggie x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #twst ruggie #ruggie bucchi #ruggie #trash novel chronicles

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