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norrizzandpia · 7 months ago

Note

hey, totally ok if it’s not ur vibe, but i’d love to see an oscar fic where he’s helping his girlfriend or a childhood best friend when she’s feeling a bit down.

i keep thinking about that man helping clean a depression room and telling his girl not to be embarrassed and he’s there to help and they get it sorted and he just holds her. makes sure she’s eaten and drank something.

even if it’s just a drabble, i’d really appreciate it :) need that kinda care in my life rn, even if it’s fictional.

I made this girlfriend because it just felt softer idk

To Be Loved Is To Be Seen (OP81)

Summary: Oscar knows his girlfriend well and it’s obvious to him when she starts breaking down. He’s happy to help or, more specifically, remind her how worth it she is.

Warnings: this one is HEAVY on the family trouble, depression, anxiety, VERY ANGSTY but def cutest HAPPY ENDING

Note: i didn’t know if you wanted reader to be in a rut or have a reason for it so i just made a reason

Y/n’s first few months of university were hard. Not only was it due to the new course load, but also because of her parents lack of interest when it came to her life. It had been a gradual shift, starting from her last two years in high school and only getting stronger as time went on. They had always been there, overbearing at times, but, now, they posted pictures of their trips around the world, failing to answer her calls and texts. She felt selfish for wanting her parents’ attention as much as she did, but it was hard to fight. There were situations she had never dealt with before, she wanted her mom’s wise words and father’s funny remarks to get through it all. But, she sat alone in the darkness of her room without the guidance counselor she usually could count on. It felt as if she wasn’t enough to keep them there anymore. It was heart wrenching and it stewed within her at such volumes, it became too much.

That’s when Oscar noticed. Her boyfriend had always been attentive, noticing small things about her that no one else did, but the second her smile didn’t reach her eyes and her text messages became less frequent, it was almost as if he was staring her down in anticipation of some sort of sign. He didn’t begin to realize it was related to her parents until he caught a glimpse of her phone when they were together, the screen open to her conversations with her mother and all of the recent texts going completely unanswered. He knew she had always had a rocky relationship with them, but she spoke about them with such respect, he knew it would’ve bothered her to feel so unimportant.

Knocking on her door, his hands clutched the bag of her favorite food he had got on his walk to her apartment. He had planned this evening out for weeks, not telling her about it in worry that she would slip into a facade put together with a fake smile that made his skin crawl.

She opened it, her body tense and tired in a ratty shirt and shorts, “Oscar? What are you doing here?”

It was as if he saw her front go up, her posture straightening and that haunting smile which told him all too well how much pain she was in. He smiled softly, “I thought we could spend the night together.”

She closed the door enough to only peek her head through, “Osc, I’m so sorry, but I can’t tonight. I’m so busy.”

He stayed put, “That’s okay. I can wait on your couch.”

“No, Osc,” She said firmly, her face turning in the light and exposing the dark bags under her eyes.

He stepped closer to her, putting his hand on the door and looking down at her with a look that made her feel loved, “Y/n, let me in. I know you’re going through it. Let me be with you.”

Her resolve cracked, her smile dropping for a second and water suddenly pooling in her eyes, “You don’t want to come in here.”

He leaned against the door and cupped her cheek, “It won’t make me love you any less.”

With a sigh, Y/n pushed the door open, beckoning the boy into her home. He knew what to expect, he knew what it was like to reach the place she was in. So, when he saw the piles of clothes, half-eaten food on the counter with old dishes in the sink, and her little accessories put in the wrong places, something she would never usually do, he wasn’t surprised. If anything, he was happy she had let him in, literally and figuratively.

She picked at her nails beside him, swaying on her feet as she analyzed his every move. Part of her was trying to ready herself for him to walk out the door, give up on her because of whatever stood before them, but he gently set the food on the floor and ushered her into his embrace. His cheek laid against the top of her head, nestled in her hair, as he tightened his grip around her body. She smelled his cologne and felt his sweatshirt which made him feel all the more warm. There was something about his presence, she would later learn it was how safe she felt, that made the turmoils of her mind quiet as she began to cry. Y/n had promised herself that she wouldn’t cry for people who clearly didn’t care, but as Oscar rubbed her back and whispered how much he loved her, she realized it was never going to work.

Her breaking down wet the material of his sweatshirt, but Oscar just held her tighter, whispering how it was going to be okay and this would all pass.

“You’re so worth it all, Y/n,” He whispered, pecking the top of her ear as he smoothed down her hair.

She clutched his back before Oscar was moving her hands under his hoodie to feel the bare of his skin. He knew she loved that. And she did. Y/n’s tears began to dissipate as he told her why he was there.

“I’m with you in this. You aren’t alone. I’m here for you and I always will be. This,” He gestured to the space around them, holding her face in his hands and forcing her eyes to meet his, “doesn’t scare me at all, love. What does scare me, though, is the attempts at eating on the counter. Have you been eating other than that?”

She shook her head, “I tried. It’s too hard. I’m not hungry ever anymore.”

He titled his head with a small frown, “Well, maybe your favorite food will help, yeah? We’ll sit together and eat. We can go as slow as you want, or as fast. All up to you, baby.”

He kissed her forehead lightly before guiding her to the living room, one of the less dirty places, and setting her down on the cushions. He set it all behind him, not wanting to overwhelm her with everything he got, and took out what he knew she would want first. There was a dull sparkle in her eyes when he handed it to her, his heart lifted. It hadn’t been there when he first arrived.

She opened it slowly, eyeing the food she once ravished in seconds, and taking a utensil to pick at it. He looked at her, waiting patiently for her to take a bite. When she did, however small, he did too. When she did again, he did too.

She stopped, “Why aren’t you eating faster?”

He smiled, “Because I’ll take a bite when you do. I don’t mind, Y/n. I told you I’m in this with you.”

Her eyes gloss over as they dart between him and the food before taking another bite, giggling a bit when Oscar takes one of his own dish. She eats, he does too and their eyes never leave each other, offering unspoken support.

When the plastic boxes are gone and empty, Oscar has glasses of water randomly appearing in his grip, offering them to his girlfriend who has found herself tangled in that soft blanket he got her last Christmas. Her cheeks are a soft pink from the warmth of it coupled with the candle he lit in the midst of their dinner and she smiles when the cool liquid flows down her throat. Oscar stands over her, hands in his pockets and wondering how anyone could possibly ignore her texts. He wants to take a picture of her, remind her parents of the beauty they have in their reach. But, he also knows that any text he sends to them wouldn’t be one he should send to his potential (very likely) in-laws. So, he stays quiet and looks at her with the love she deserves.

“Do you need anything else?” He asks, pushing the hair out of her face.

She shakes her head, “No, I’m good. What movie do you want to watch?”

He kisses her cheek, “It’s up to you. I won’t be watching.”

Her eyebrows knot together and she cocks her head, “Why not? Is this some random pickup line where you’re going to tell me how you’ll only be watching me?”

He laughs, his head back, as he walks toward her room, “No, but that’s a good one. I’ll keep that for later. You put on whatever you want, baby. I’ll be cleaning.”

She crawls to the corner of the couch, watching him begin to pick up her room, “Clean? What? Why?”

He stops, turning around to look at her through the door, “Because I want to help you feel better and I know your apartment is stressing you out. You shouldn’t have to worry, love. Just relax. I’ll be done in a few hours.”

Her mouth is agape as he moves throughout her room, putting things away as if he knows where everything goes. He does, apparently. And when the shock of it wears off, a smile cements itself on her face as she turns on a random movie. She enjoys the soft humming of Oscar in the other room, answering his occasional question about the plot of the movie she’s watching. When he moves to the kitchen, out in the open and available to see what’s on the screen, Y/n falls asleep to the picture of her boyfriend doing her dishes and taking out her trash. Falling asleep with a warm heart mended by someone that has always loved her unconditionally.

—

She’s awoken by the feeling of soft mattress beneath her and Oscar’s arms heavy around her torso. He’s deep in sleep when she opens her eyes, has her completely enveloped in his grasp on her side. The room is dark, the window open and allowing for a cold breeze to flow through the room. She loves it. It’s cold outside, but Oscar keeps her warm. Her hands move their way up to his head, playing with his hair and staring at the man who has treated her so gently.

Tears fall down her face all so suddenly, sniffling lightly but still waking Oscar in the process.

He’s immediately worried, “What’s wrong?”

Her head drops to his chest, “I just love you so much and can’t tell you how much it meant to me that you stayed here even after seeing the state everything was in, including me.”

His soft hands leave her body and pull her face up to him. His eyes are dilated as he looks at her, “I would’ve done it yesterday and I’ll do it for the rest of our lives. I don’t want you to struggle alone. You don’t deserve that. You’ve done too much of that before you met me.”

If only her younger self could see her now. A younger girl worried she’d never find a man who loved her by seeing her now wholly adored by someone who didn’t just see her, but understood her too. She doesn’t even need to utter the problem, he already knows and she’s caught on to that since the moment he showed up at her door. His carefully chosen words about her worth and how easy it is to love her were all strategically placed in order to fix the cracks deep in her soul that have come undone at the hands of her parents.

“It’s just upsetting that they only loved me.” She whispers and for a second, Oscar doesn’t understand what she’s saying. But, the tense of her words dawns on him and the look on her face unleashes anger in his body. Loved. It’s upsetting that her parents loved her. They no longer do in her eyes. She once had parental support, love, but it’s obvious how transactional, conditional it was now. She got a taste of what it was like to be loved by them, but it was taken away when she needed it the most. She had mentioned to him before that growing up, she felt as if they used her presence to shy away from the problems of their marriage. When she was out of the house, she thought they would separate, but the opposite has happened. She served her purpose, now they throw money at trips to fill the void of what they have refused to face. Disregarded and thrown away, that’s the implications of what she’s confided.

He nods, tears in his eyes, “It’s so unfair of them to treat you this way. They’re your parents. They should be there for you, but they have never known how to love and you were just an unnecessary victim in it all.”

She wipes the moisture from her face, “I should just move on from the way they’ve treated me. I should give them grace because they’re my parents. I should just make peace with it all because this will never be fixed in the way I want it. But, I can’t.”

Oscar kisses the top of her head, “It’s okay that you can’t. That’s completely understandable. Giving grace just because they’re your family members isn’t right, Y/n. Just because there’s a blood relation doesn’t mean you can excuse their behavior. They’re your parents and they have neglected you for ages. You can’t keep giving everything to them, only to get nothing in return. Parents or not, you distance yourself from people who bring you down as much as they do.”

More tears smear against his chest, “But, they’re my parents, Osc.”

It’s as if he doesn’t know what to say because he knows how much she praises their drive and determination, giving her a life of privilege. Though, he stands firm on the idea that no one should be given a second chance if they “love” this way.

“I know, Y/n, and it’s so horrible that you’ve been put in this situation, but I think it would do you some good to let go of a part of them. You’ll go home and see them for birthdays, Christmases, but, in the time between, you don’t have to chase after them. You can find love in other things, happiness in other things. I’ll even do some of it with you. We can take up painting classes like you always wanted, walks in that park down the street that you love, studying in coffee shops, and watching the sunset. Life without them can be freeing.”

He’s right, she thinks. Life without them will be freeing. But, the story of letting go is never easy and finding yourself flipping to past chapters to hold onto something that isn’t there anymore is usual.

However, as she lays tangled in the limbs of Oscar, she finds future chapters to be more exciting, more fulfilling. Her whole life is ahead of her, one including Oscar, and that sudden revelation fills her with an overwhelming relief. His listing of all the things she loves, wants to try desperately reminds her just how in love with her he is. Every action of hers is noted by him and she’s spent years begging for that from her parents. She never got it, but maybe that was because something else softer lied in the cards for her. At times, her parents needed her, but they would always need something else more. Glamorous, shiny, new things that would satisfy them for a time. She would never be enough in the minds of them, but in the mind of Oscar, she was more than enough. It was clear she was everything to him.

A life with him would be different from the one handed to her on a broken, rusty platter. She wanted that with him and the way he looked at her told her he did too. Letting go of the dismissal of people she has killed herself for to make proud was maybe for the best, pushed her in the direction of focusing on Oscar and everything she’s ever wanted. Was this her mending old, deep wounds?

Loved and cherished, she found sleep once more, rejuvenated with hope and a sense of moving on.

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trendywaifus · 2 months ago

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2024 HALLOWEEN SPECIAL MASTERLIST

❝ WHAT’S YOUR SCARY MOVIE? ❞

WARNINGS — DARK THEMES, MENTIONS OF DEPRESSION, ATTEMPT OF SELF INJURY, DEATH, BLOOD, CONTROLLING BEHAVIOR, INJURY, YANDERE THEMES, DUBCON, PURITY LOSS, CREAMPIE, ORAL FIXATION, VAGINAL PENETRATION, SIZE KINK, CUM–EATING, FINGERING, CUNNILINGUS, UNPROTECTED SEX

04 |SCREAMPIED ! — transfem! ghostface! feixiao x fem! reader. there seems to be a second serial killer who has their eyes on you. but it seems like they came for you for a different reason. will they be a failure like the last one was? (10/6) continuation of — i’m like the wind baby !

preview ↳ you angrily picked up your phone for the third time in two hours, draping the towel over your shoulder as you sat down on the sofa. “ this is the third fucking time you called my damn phone, “ you shouted, pausing some cheesy horror movie that you forgot was on while taking a quick shower, “ take a hike you fuckin’ bum! don’t ask me about what my damn favorite scary movie is because i don’t have one! the last one was somehow less annoying than you are! “

there’s a small pause from the other side along with consistent, wet noises of skin slapping against skin. “ . . .fuck, “ the husky voice lets out a strained groan and laughs breathily, “ keep talking, i’m almost finished. mm, you sound so fucking hot when you’re upset, doll face.”

“ what the fuck? are you getting off from my voice, you damn weirdo? fuck off. “

05 |NATURAL PREDATOR ! — serial killer! jane doe x fem! reader. she craves you and the normalcy you bring into her life. it wouldn’t hurt to preserve it by keeping you in her home. don’t worry, she won’t hurt you if you don’t hurt her. rats aren’t natural predators after all, right? (10/26)

preview ↳ you swat the chinese food aside in frustration, jumping up from your seat, and glared at your unamused kidnapper sitting on the other side of the table. “ is this some sick game to you? chasing, kidnapping me—taking me away from my life to satisfy yours? “ you hiccuped, tears swelling in your eyes. “ and why in the actual fuck do you think it’s okay to make me sit down with you and eat some takeout food after you’ve been gone all day? what, you expect me to “gossip” with you after all the shit you’ve done to me? “

hurt flash in her teal eyes before she sighs heavily. “ do we seriously have to keep coming back to that? i understand that you’re upset but you’ll get use to this, to me soon enough. i know that i haven’t been here lately and i’m sorry. i’ll do my best to come home to you as early as i can. here, “ she says apologetically, handing you a napkin across the table with the pointed end of her tail, “ please, sit down, wipe your tears, and eat your food, my dear. unless, you prefer for me to do all of them for you? “ there’s something dark lurking behind her voice as it lowers an octave. a shiver runs down your spine at the hooded look in her narrowed eyes.

06 |ADAM & EVE ! — yandere! robin x gn! reader. all she wanted was to save her brother. even if it meant taking a bite from the forbidden fruit, stripping her away from reason, her purity—what makes her robin; an internal separation from who she used to be. ( 10/31)

preview ↳ robin straddles your lap, her darkened emerald eyes pools into yours, lulling you deeper into a trance-like state. your body feels relaxed and heavy, bones softening like malleable metal. the halovian woman lean close to you with a sickeningly sweet smile on her pale features as she brings the bitten apple to your bruised lips. there’s voices—hushed whispers ringing in your head, commanding you to take a bite of the apple. you don’t fight them back, you can’t. lust, euphoria and her hypnotic tune clouds your judgement.

you bite into the apple and sink further into the abyss, along with the shell of a woman who used to be great.

07 (BONUS?)| WUTIWANT ! — jason! transfem! acheron x fem! reader. i don’t know what i want but i know it’s not this. these words mean nothing once they’ve left my lips. (??)

preview ↳ ???

#trendy #halloween 2024 masterlist #jane doe x reader zzz #feixiao x reader #robin x reader hsr #acheron x reader #zzz women x reader #honkai star rail women x reader

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turtleblogatlast · 6 months ago

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“Hey, Hueso.”

Hueso sighs.

Moving his gaze to his left, he sees Leo casually leaning up against the wall next to him. The turtle isn’t looking at him, instead he seems to be staring at nothing at all. Strange, but not necessarily unheard of from him.

“We’re closed, Pepino.” Hueso states, moving a little away to continue closing down his restaurant-

“Can any portal be portal-jacked?”

Hueso pauses.

It’s a simple enough question, one that Hueso’s fairly certain he’s given an equally simple - if not a bit harsh - answer to. Granted, it was more in regard to the likelihood of bad portals being jacked rather than any at all, so maybe now that Leo has admittedly become much more competent with his portals, he’s just worried it’ll happen again.

The invasion certainly made the boy more…cautious. Quieter, too.

“Well…” Hueso runs a bony hand down his face, “From what I know, the possibility always exists, Pepino. However, it is far, far more unlikely to be portal-jacked when the portal is made by a master, rather than some reckless amateur.”

Leo nods his head, almost vacantly. If Hueso wasn’t paying so much attention he may have missed the way Leo seemed to look a little sick. Despite himself, concern builds within him.

“So-“ Leo starts, his voice soft in a worrisome way before he clears it, “So…if the portal was just- really strong, it could still be jacked if made by a beginner?”

Hueso watches closely even as he nods in answer, “Sí. Your own portals are strong, no?”

Leo shakes his head, “No, like- imagine a portal way stronger than mine ever were. Something huge and stuff. More, uh. More locked up dimensions and time, less…just space.”

“Hm.” Hueso frowns, considering the strange question. “Well, in truth I have yet to come across many portals on that level, but there’s nothing to say that it’s not possible-“ The smallest furrow of Leo’s brow makes Hueso hurry to add, “-ah, but there’s also nothing that says it is possible.”

“So…it could happen? It’s not a definitive “no”?” Leo asks, the smallest of shakes present in his tone.

Hueso puts a hand on Leo’s shoulder. “No lo sé, Pepino. I haven’t come across such portals enough to give a good answer to you.”

Something in him hurts a bit when Leo visibly plasters on a grin. “Ah, man. Well- Gracias, Hueso, this was just a stupid thing to get all hung up on anyway.”

Hueso looks closer at this annoying, insufferable, horribly quiet and reserved boy. He sees the dark circles peaking, barely visible thanks to the mask. He sees the scars of healed injuries never to be forgotten displayed all across the boy’s body. He sees the look in Leo’s eyes, a depression and worry that is…hard to look at, in someone so young.

He sees all of this in Leo, and as much as he sometimes wishes to deny it, he cares enough about him to gently ask. “Are you okay, Pepino?”

“Oh- yeah, yeah, don’t worry, Hueso, I’m not about to whine to you again or anything.” Leo laughs, backing away out of Hueso’s reach. “It’s just a little question, just something that’s been bothering me, y’know? Wanted to ask an expert.”

“Pepino-“ Hueso starts, not quite sure what to say. The words “you can come to me whenever you need to” are true, and yet he can’t bring himself to say them before Leo already is swinging a katana.

In the light of his blue portal, Leo sends Hueso his signature, manufactured grin. “Thanks for listening, Hueso!”

And then he’s gone. Just like that. Standing tall and confident with not a shred of that worry and reservation and fear left behind. It was the look of a soldier heading off to a battle he knew was terrifying, but one he also knew he needed to keep a brave face for.

It would have been a commendable look, if not for the fact Leo was heading home.

Hueso stares at the residual sparks of the portal for just a moment longer before moving to continue closing. Next time, because there will always be a next time, Hueso will have a fresh pizza waiting.

And, hopefully, a bit of that insufferable turtle he knows so well comes back to grab a slice.

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt leo #rottmnt hueso #rise hueso #rise leo #rottmnt headcanons #do I think Mikey’s portal at the end COULD have been jacked? probably not #do i think it’s a possibility that LEO thinks could have happened? oh yes #Leo already had a pretty bad moment with portal jacking before it would NOT surprise me if it’s a legitimate fear of his now #because like - he got lucky #his brothers could have been sent ANYWHERE and he had no idea where #and in that regard - he as well could have been sent anywhere in his wayyy too injured state #again I think Mikey’s portals fall into a different wheelhouse than Leo’s and most others do #and the portal he made was likely wayyyyy too strong to do anything to #BUT again…the worry remains #imagine being Leo and almost ALMOST being in his brothers’ arms #only to be put into the wilderness somewhere all alone #while horrifically injured at that #on one hand at least it’s not the prison dimension #on the other…

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shadowandlightt · 11 months ago

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Of Nightmares and Memories /one/ Azriel x Reader

Series Warnings: Kidnapping. Mistreatment. Cursing. Pining. Violence. Depression. Talks of suicide. Eventual smut.

Be kind, I've never written for Az or anyone in Acotar before. But have been a fan of the books for years. Feedback is always appreciated

The air was chilly in Velaris. You walked along the Sidra, coat drawn in close. Laughter filled the streets as music drifted down the river bank. Everything felt peaceful. You were at peace, you didn’t fear being alone as you walked. You didn’t fear some random male coming out of the darkness. Velaris was safe, and you were safe. No one would dare touch you without permission here. You were as safe as you could be, even walking alone.

But the shadows that swirled around you ensured that you weren’t alone, not in the slightest. You smiled as one strayed from the others and carefully touched your cheek. You were never afraid of the shadows, they were as close to you as friends. Their master being the best friend that you had, aside from your brother and cousin.

“Hello,” You laughed, touching the shadow, “Where’s your master?”

You stopped on the bridge overlooking the Rainbow of Velaris, your favorite section of the town. Music floated towards you as you watched people dancing and painting in the streets. The city was awake during the day, sure, but it came alive at night.

“He’s here,” A silky voice spoke from next to you, as shadows gave way to a male.

You smile again and turn to face him, his hazel eyes shimmering in the moonlight. He takes your breath away, always. Even when he shouldn’t, even when you should see him as a brother and only a brother. He seems like more to you, and always had. Even when you were small and children, you looked at him with bright eyes and felt your heart fly when he was around.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone,” His voice is gruff.

“I’m safe,” you snort back, “No one would dare touch me.”

You can’t help but shiver as a cold breeze blows down the river. In an instant his arms are around you, pulling you close into his body as wings wrap around you both, closing in the heat. You lied before, now you felt as safe as you could, in his arms. You didn’t think you could ever feel safe like this again. Much less if he wasn’t with you.

“Love, you really should have an escort, nonetheless,” He chides.

“I do,” you remind him, “I have you here. And your shadows before you.”

He sighs, seeming to know he won’t win in this fight. And then he’s quiet for a moment before leaning in to whisper into my ear, “Where you go I go.”

“But whatever we do, we do it together,” I finish for him, turning in his arms.

His eyes scan yours, which you can only help reflect the love that you feel for him. He’s quiet as he scans your face. Then he slowly leans into you, lips closing in on your own.

But then you wake.

And then you remember.

And the realization comes crashing down on you, removing the joy of your dream and only leaving behind the reality of your nightmare.

Because you aren’t in the Night Court anymore. You aren’t with the Shadowsinger, or walking the roads of Velaris. No, you’re far from your home. Instead you’re stuck in a manor house, prisoner of the High Lord of the Spring Court.

#acomaf #acotar #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #acotar fic #azriel acotar #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #acotar fanfiction #acotar series #azriel fluff

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dollishbabess · 4 days ago

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Do you do batfamily? I literally love your profile aesthetic and I think it would be really cool something like girly reader who is the youngest in the batfamily, I think it would be funny the boys dealing with her and everything. ily🤍

“I PRESSED HIDE ICONS BUT I CAN STILL SEE ME” ── .✦ DOLLISH ⋆. 𐙚 ˚

A/n: this literally made me laugh but tysm ily too, but literally i tried to balance this with sass + a girl who likes pink and other colors instead of stereotypical pink girly girl and etc but if this is not correct then sorry because i only have one sister and a brother and i’m oldest out of all of them.

tags: batfamily x girly!batsis

⋆. 𐙚 ˚

The manor is, of course, dark and filled with heavy, old-fashioned furniture. Meanwhile, you’re room is beautiful with subtle hints of pink decor and white, and a beautiful walk in closet, and your room is the only spot with cozy, neutral decor and soft pinks, which you somehow convinced Alfred was “tasteful and happy”

Bruce pretends he doesn’t notice the little decorative changes you make around the house, like the rose-gold lamp in the hallway or the fresh flowers on the dining table. Alfred, though, secretly loves it because it makes the place feel a little less like a ‘depressive episode’ (I’m convinced if someone suicidal went in that manor they would likely fucking commit at this rate).

“CINDERELLA ARE YOU FUCKING READY?!” ── .✦

When you go to family dinners or galas, the boys have come to expect that you’ll need at least an hour to get ready. They used to complain, but now they’ve just accepted it (even if it means sleeping while standing up waiting) And you’re always perfectly dressed, from your hair to your jewelry.

Tim once asked why you had to wear rings on your ring finger without being married, and without missing a beat, you responded, “Because I need to let people know I have style standards, maybe you can learn a or two about fashion, your dressed like a fucking caveman.”

“ITS EXPLAINABLE” ── .✦

Alfred has somehow become your unofficial shopping partner, knowing all your preferred stores and patiently sitting outside the fitting rooms. He’s the only one who will willingly go with you without complaint, and he even knows which colors you like best

Once, Bruce was caught off guard by a credit card alert because it was awhile someone spent THAT much money and asked Alfred about it. Alfred just responded calmly, “It was for necessary purchases, Master Wayne,” even though the “necessary purchases” included a ton of “designer” things.

── .✦

Damian once challenged you to a chess match, thinking he could beat you easily. Halfway through, you made a risky move, looked him dead in the eye, and said, “You’re about to see a queen move.” Damian lost, and he’s still confused about how it happened.

One morning, Dick said, “Isn’t it a little early for all the glam and glitter?” You just gave him a look and said, “Isn’t it a little late for you to be alive, your social security number is probably one.

YOUR BEAUTY PRODUCTS BECOMING A ATTEMPT ON PEOPLES LIVES ── .✦

Bruce has almost tripped on your eyelash curler twice. The family has also officially banned you from putting skincare masks in the fridge after Jason mistook your green tea gel eye masks for some kind of salad topping (the worse part is… he ate the whole thing and didn’t realize until he went shopping trying to find the exact one until he found it in the skincare aisle instead of the salad dressing aisle…)

Tim opened the wrong drawer in your room once, and it looked like a makeup frenzy had exploded. Lip glosses, nail polishes, tiny skincare samples, and sheet masks cascaded out, and he just stood there, baffled by how much one person could need, (he thought you ran a business for a few days after.)

── .✦

You also gave Bruce a mini heart attack when you told him you wanted a different laptop because “this one’s too boring.” The Batcomputer tech isn’t boring, but you wanted a rose-gold case and “a vibe,” so Bruce ended up ordering one in the exact shade you wanted.

The family group chat is complete chaos. You regularly send pictures of quotes from romance novels, and the occasional inspirational meme with sparkles. Once, you sent a photo of the living room and asked, “Could we get some lighter curtains in here? For my aesthetic and mental well being?”

Whenever someone’s late, you flood the chat with passive-aggressive texts like, “Jason, do you know what ‘be here at 6 PM’ means?” or “Dick, if you’re any later, I’ll be old enough to vote for Kamala at this rate.”

MOVIE NIGHTS ── .✦

You insist on watching rom-coms and dramas instead of the usual action movies. Even though the boys groan, you’ve noticed they secretly enjoy the movies by the end. Tim tried to deny it, but he was caught laughing at a scene in white chicks and you swore to never let him forget it.

Once, you convinced them to watch a “fall aesthetic” movie marathon, complete with hot chocolate and fuzzy blankets. Even Jason joined in, and you teased him the whole night, whispering, “Don’t pretend you don’t love a good blanket.

THE OFFICAL FASHION GURU FINALBOSS 💜 ── .✦

You’ve taken it upon yourself to occasionally “advise” the boys on their fashion. If Tim wears a hoodie that’s “two shades too close to ‘depression’ ” you’ll be the first to tell him. You even convinced Damian to try a collared shirt once, though he looked horrified.

Dick gets roasted the most. He walked out wearing cargo shorts once, and you deadpan, “Going for the ‘i’m so old i saw humans evolve’ look i see.” He didn’t change, but he was clearly a little self-conscious the whole day (he never wore cargo shorts ever again…)

SKINCARE TIPS ── .✦

You’ve taught the boys some random facts they never knew, like the importance of hyaluronic acid for skincare and the difference between ballet flats and loafers. They pretend to brush it off, but you’ve overheard Jason giving roy skincare advice using the tips you shared.

When Bruce had a minor scratch on his face from patrol, you casually handed him concealer. “Just dab, blend, and don’t tell anyone,” you said. He followed the instructions without a word (he used to do that before, just impressed you also knew)

THE BABY OF THE FAMILY ── .✦

As the youngest, you know how to work the “baby sister” angle like a pro. The boys are fiercely protective, and any time you need a ride, money for something “totally essential,” or help with homework, you can count on one of them stepping up.

Once, you asked Damian to grab something from a high shelf for you, and when he hesitated, you hit him with, “Guess i really am alone without a good brother..” He ended up grabbing it for you with a grumble, but you swear you saw him smirk.

@dollishbabess made by me, do not translate, or repost or copy.

Second divider: @cafekitsune, other dividers not sure I kinda forgot sorry

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yoonieper · 5 months ago

Text

For the Birds— Prologue | JJK

I want you to stay even though you don’t want me.

♡ Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (feat. Yuri)

♡ Genre: angst, smut, future fluff

♡ Rated: D for Disappointment

♡ Series Warnings: Lots of smut (not always healthy), cheating, discussions of depression, this series includes Jk in a pretty toxic environment, degradation (not the sexy kind), manipulation, and overall Jk being in an emotionally abusive situation! This chapter is not too bad, but please read with caution going forward!

♡ Chapter Warnings: Jk sad boy, Yuri being… :/, oral (f. receiving), masturbation (m)

♡ Word Count: 12.6k

♡ Summary: As the son of the CEO at Golden Tech, a marriage was arranged in the name of business. Jungkook really tried to make the most of his situation and be the best husband he could be, but no matter how much he tried, his wife just doesn’t seem to want him. Then you… you came into his life and his eyes couldn’t help but wander.

♡ Now Playing: LOVE. by Kendrick Lamar (feat. Zacari)– see masterlist for full playlist!

♡ Betas: Thank you so much to @illyrian-book-lover and @teawithhoneyandlemon for reading this part for me! If you’re interested in betaing future parts, dm me. If you're interested in becoming a permanent beta for this series please first click here and refer to 'details about the job' section for more details and dm for any questions you might have!

♡ Author’s Note: I’ve been working on this for a while, but I got sudden inspiration to finish the prologue~ This series should get pretty exciting, so stay tuned! ← Omg y’all the prologue has been in my drafts since 2020 :’) This series has gone through a lot of evolution that I might talk about in the future. This series is very different from where it started, but the prologue has always remained vastly the same, so it has a special place in my heart! Hope you enjoy the series my friends, this one is very emotional, so prepare for the rollercoaster ahead! I’m excited to show you what’s to come <3!

No reposting, modifying. Translating is not allowed unless given explicit permission. Thank you so much : D

main masterlist ✩ series masterlist » next chapter

“Secretary Yu, could you remind me of the schedule for the day?”Jungkook let his disgruntled sigh fill the room as he rubbed his temples, doing anything he could for a chance to soothe the subtle pounding in his head. Displeasure was painted all over his features, and his eyes were tightly closed while he listened to his assistant’s clicking heels stop in front of his desk.

The room was dark, but that hadn’t kept his retinas from burning any less as he looked at the woman in front of him— he didn’t know at this point if it was because of all the crying or the exhaustion from waking up so early. The day had only just begun, and he already wanted it to end; to just climb back in bed, sleep away his troubles, and forget everything that transpired over the last 24 hours. Hell, maybe there was still a chance he was asleep, and that this was all just a bad nightmare his brain had conjured up in nervousness.

“Director Jeon? I didn’t expect you to be in so early.” Secretary Yu Min-ju tried to smile but the furrowing of her eyebrows made it obvious she was a little confused. This hadn’t been part of the plan they discussed. Jungkook didn’t let the moment linger, instead, gave her a firm look of exasperation that made her hastily pull out her tablet to find his schedule.

Her usual cheerfulness was not what he needed today.

Min-ju couldn't stop the smile appearing on her face when she saw its rare emptiness. “Your hard work these past few days has paid off. Today is pretty light. A meeting with the financial team at 12, and then another meeting at 1pm with Mr. Cho. You should be able to go home after that.” The secretary warmly smiled.

Jungkook’s eyes drifted down to the picture sitting on his desk as she spoke. It was of him and his wife on their honeymoon last year to The Maldives. They had been walking on the beach and his mother had texted and begged for a picture of the new couple; Jungkook could do nothing but oblige. Yuri had clung onto his shoulders when he held up his phone, and upon counting down to one, gave him a surprise kiss on the cheek leading to Jungkook’s eager, unnaturally wide smile being captured forever and memorialized on his desk. He couldn’t help but frown.

He wanted to be excited, craved for it, yearned for it, but home was the last place he wanted to be right now. All that hard work for nothing. For once he wished he had more to do, anything to keep his mind busy.

“Didn’t I have deadlines for a few upcoming reports?” He suddenly questioned.

Min-ju looked farther down her list and she nodded. “There are a few documents that need reviewing and signatures, but a majority of them aren’t due till next week. But you don’t need to—“

“I’ll get them done today.” Jungkook’s tone was astoundingly emotionless, completely void of the delightful emotion he had spoken with in the days leading up to today. Min-ju was at a loss for words. She knew how hard he worked to free up his day for the special occasion. What's with the sudden change of plans? What happened?

It was Jungkook himself who had requested for her to try and free his schedule so he would be in the office for as little time as possible. There was no joy or giddiness behind his eyes like she had expected. Min-ju had pictured her boss walking in with a strange cheerfulness in his mood, rainbows and sparkles practically dancing around him as he skipped through the halls and greeted her good morning. But his tone lacked spirit altogether. Jungkook was like a husk compared to the person she said goodbye to the evening prior.

“I— uh alright, I’ll make sure to send them to you later sir.” Min-ju bowed, before she scrambled away.

Jungkook listened intently to the way her heels tentatively clicked while she walked out, it was at a certain speed that told him she was rushing to get out of there. As soon as the door closed behind her, he let out a loud sigh as he leaned back in his chair.

What a fucking disappointment this whole day turned out to be.

Jungkook had planned today to be one of the most preeminent days for him and his wife as a couple and those plans were all squashed within a second last night. It had been playing over and over in his head since he woke up this morning.

He tangled his hands in his hair, his grip growing tighter and tighter on his short locks as the reality of the situation hit him for the billionth time. It just wouldn’t stop, replaying in a loop hoping something might change. That he’d wake up from this nightmare, or maybe even realize something that in the heat of the moment had gone entirely unnoticed— anything to explain what happened. Last night still didn’t feel real.

The cancellation had been entirely unexpected.

•────•──────────•────•

Last night Jungkook had been in high spirits all day. A radiance was cast on his features by the pure, exorbitant elation flowing through his body. It was like the most beautiful display of fireworks were going off all at once, tickling his insides, and making the smile on his face grow so wide it hurt his cheeks but he couldn’t find it in him to stop. After all, tomorrow was going to be the turning point for their relationship. Something was about to happen, he was sure of it.

Jungkook was lying on their shared bed, having just recently come out from the shower. His hair was still slightly damp, and a giddy smile was plastered on his face as he scrolled through his phone. He was eagerly reviewing their itinerary for their plans tomorrow.

D-day. The day that Jungkook and his wife were meant to celebrate their one and a half year anniversary. It might be a weird occasion to commemorate, but after being apart for too many holidays and milestones for various reasons, Jungkook went out of his way and made it a point to plan something to make up for all the lost time.

He let his attention turn from his phone and settled on his wife who was meticulously going through her nightly routine at her vanity. His smile softened as he silently watched her dab night cream across her cheeks.

How was this his life?

Sometimes it was a little hard to believe Yuri was actually his wife, it was almost intimidating at how beautiful she was. Her eyes were round yet sharp in their gaze as she focused on the mirror. Her skin was usually so soft but it shined even more so at that moment from all the various oils and moisturizers she made sure to use every night. Her long, dark hair flowed nicely down her back but was pushed out of her face by a cute, fuzzy, gray headband. And even in pajamas, she managed to carry this level of elegance that pulled him in so easily.

Jungkook bit his lip to contain the smile that was threatening to envelop him entirely.

The outfit was especially a big deal. It was different from the shorts and tank tops she’d normally wear. It had been his idea to start the celebration with matching pajamas, a slight preview to the day he had planned for the both of them. Jungkook’s heart had hammered in his chest when Yuri relented and agreed to wear the set he had given to her before she went to shower. It matched his own exactly. It was nothing too special, but a nice way to bring them together before the big day. A simple, gray pajama-button-down-classic; the material was so soft and he knew Yuri would look just as amazing as it felt.

She always did.

His excitement was almost overflowing, Jungkook couldn’t stop himself from getting up so he was right behind her. He wrapped his arms around her small frame, and gently placed a quick peck on her neck.

“I’m so excited for tomorrow~” He hummed lightly into her skin.

Yuri didn’t say anything, her attention trained on her reflection.

“What about you? Are you looking forward to spending the day together and doing all the fun stuff I have planned?” He sang. As soon as the words left his mouth he knew it sounded cringey, but for once he didn’t care. He just wanted to hear it, that she was excited to be with him.

Yuri’s gaze eventually flickered over to him before she turned around to face him.

“Jungkook, I have to tell you something…“ She sighed. He tried to ignore his uneasy feeling about her tone.

“Oh, you did?” Jungkook attempted to fight back his disappointment. That wasn’t what he hoped she’d say.

“Yeah, I did,” she muttered. He hated the look on his face as he peered into the mirror. A slight frown had dimmed down his smile, and he wanted to do anything to wipe it away. There was no time for frowning, he didn’t want to ruin tomorrow before it even started. He shouldn’t overthink it.

“I had something I needed to mention too.” He went back over to the bed. “I wasn’t able to get out of my meetings tomorrow so I’ll have to go in for a few hours, but I promise I’ll come straight back here.” He had really tried, but there was no way to reschedule them any further into the week. At least that was the only thing on his agenda tomorrow, however, he had wanted to take the day off completely and spend it with his wife.

Jungkook saw Yuri’s face drop.

“Don't worry, I’ll be here all morning! I worked hard to clear my schedule as much as I could, it’ll just be two meetings and then I’m back.” He tried to smile. Hopefully, she wouldn’t mind the brief interruption too much.

“Actually—“ Yuri dragged it out as she looked back into the mirror to make sure she rubbed in the cream well, “I have plans tomorrow.” She put it frankly.

Jungkook blinked a couple of times before a look of confusion settled on his features. “Plans?” His voice had grown small. It didn’t have a reason to yet, but maybe all along he knew where this was going the minute she brought it up.

“I have a friend from when I went to school in the US coming to visit.” She mumbled. Jungkook couldn’t hide the disappointment from showing.

“Oh? Um…”

“We’re planning to spend some time together, so…”

“When will you guys be done?” He questioned, still a little shocked that she was just telling him about this now, the day before their plans. “Hopefully we can work around it. Maybe you guys could meet up while I’m gone so it doesn’t mess up—“

“Jungkook, this is going to be an all-day thing.” He could see the way Yuri watched his expression from the mirror as the gears started turning in his head, now realizing what that meant. The silence that settled in the room was painful.

“But… but we had plans.”

“I know we did, but—“

“But?! Yuri I told you weeks ago!” Jungkook retorted. He was angry now. He didn’t want to be angry.

“Weeks Yuri, weeks!” He continued, unable to process this was happening. There was no way she could have simply “forgotten” about the day they were supposed to spend together. He’d literally been talking about it since they both agreed to do this a few weeks ago.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” He accused, confused how news like this would just go unsaid.

“She just called me two days ago,” Yuri argued, as if that would make this any better.

“Two days ago— and you didn’t say anything until now?” He was baffled. There was no excuse why she couldn’t have brought this up sooner.

“Well— look how you’re reacting.” She scoffed and crossed her arms.

That just set him off even more.

“How I’m reacting, Yuri?! We talked about this for weeks; it’s the only thing I’ve been talking about for the past few days. I’m sorry that I was excited to spend the day with my wife.” Jungkook exploded at her. He was furious, and he didn’t like it. This wasn’t how this day was supposed to go.

Yuri didn’t say anything but instead rolled her eyes.

“And you can’t just cancel?!” He finally asked, getting up and pacing around their shared room.

“Jungkook, she's my friend! I haven’t seen her in a while and—“

“But what about me?!” He snapped. The words seemed to hang in the air, a painful silence following it. Jungkook noticed the look on her face, and he sighed as he sat down at the edge of the bed so he was facing her. He ran his hands through his hair and took a couple deep breaths to get himself to calm down.

“I didn’t mean for it to come out like that… it’s just… Yuri, we've been married for a year and a half and I feel like I hardly know you. I know this is technically only meant to be business, but I thought we said we’d try and make this work.” He cried as he grabbed a hold of her hands. He looked her directly in the eyes, wanting her to know that he meant every word.

Was he really asking for too much?

“We’ve hardly gotten time together since our honeymoon. Our schedules are full, and I know that’s not our fault, but I just wanted some time alone with you even if it was only for a day.” He pleaded; the desperation was so evident in his voice. He felt pathetic.

“We can do that any day. My friend will only be here for the next two weeks.” Yuri acknowledged before she turned back to her vanity.

“And why can’t you just hang out another day?” He asked, defeat overtaking him and his efforts to convince her. There was no point really. It seemed she had already made up her mind.

“I said she’s leaving in two weeks. We only have a limited time to hang out before she’s catching a plane back to California. Besides, we can just do something after she leaves. We will have all the time in the world when she’s gone in two weeks.” Her words were punches straight to the heart. She always says that when she needs to cancel plans— that next week never comes.

Her excuse was ridiculous, but this wasn’t the first time it had happened. He’s used to it now and knows there isn’t really any point in trying to negotiate.

“Yuri, I have a business trip that week.”

“Well what about the—“ she was cut off.

“You have a shoot in Hawaii that week.” Jungkook just sighed and got back up to sit on his side of the bed. “We can just forget about it all together in that case.” He fumed as he flipped over, now too upset to even face her right now.

Part of him was hoping she’d just say “Never mind, I’ll just reschedule,” jump in the bed and cuddle with him because she realized just how much this meant to him, to herself, and to them both as a couple. Everything would be fine and–

But no… Yuri just sat there, seemingly unaffected by the cancellation of their plans.

He began to think it was a little sad at how upset he was. Yuri didn’t care; maybe he truly had made this a bigger deal than it needed to be. She was right in some sense— they live together and can plan something any day of the year.

But it still hurt that just for this one day, Yuri didn’t want to spend time with him.

•────•──────────•────•

It did not get any better the next day. He woke up in a bad mood. She wasn’t even there in the morning. Everything just made him upset: Yuri’s cold, empty side of the bed, he forgot to turn off his alarm so he missed his opportunity to sleep in, and he nearly slipped in the shower as he was ranting to himself about how dumb this was. Their annoying, squeaky bedroom door that Jungkook’s been meaning to call someone about. Even the milk for his cereal pissed him off because he asked Yuri last night to pick up more while she was out but of course, she forgot, and he forgot to tell their cook about it thinking she’d get it, so he only had a little left for his breakfast this morning.

The last place he wanted to be was at their apartment so he left for work as soon as he was ready.

Jungkook took out his phone knowing he had some time to kill and he needed someone to rant to or else he was going to go crazy. A few minutes later, like the trusty friend he was, Jimin was bursting through the door like he was the Kool Aid man, ready to listen to all of Jungkook’s problems.

“Ok, who’s ass do I need to kick?” Jimin came in, hands up, ready to fight– which might have been Jungkook’s fault with the ambiguous text he sent to his hyung. Saying “the world’s ending, need help now!” might have been a little too drastic, but it felt appropriate at the moment.

“Mine...” Jungkook groaned, his head was on the desk but he could hear Jimin’s footsteps hurrying over, before taking a seat in the chair in front of his desk. This was routine at this point.

The two of them had been friends for a number of years now. Jimin was two years older than Jungkook and had mainly been friends with his brother at first. But when Junghyeon left, apparently he decided he needed to leave his big brother duties to someone, and he thought who else would be a better fit to watch over him than Park Jimin? Those were Junghyeon’s words when Jungkook first mentioned that he was getting close to his old friend. Jimin occasionally checked up on him when he was still in high school, and their bond grew really strong soon after Jungkook had started college. Jimin became his guide as he navigated adult life and a very real friendship was born from his brother’s efforts.

When Jimin graduated, it only felt natural for Jungkook to extend an invitation to work at his family’s company, knowing how good of an addition he would be to the team. As of about three and a half years ago, they’ve also been work buddies.

“So,” Jimin stretched it out. “What is it this time?” He asked when Jungkook still hadn’t said anything.

Silence followed.

“Is this about Yuri?” Jimin finally questioned, that being the most obvious, considering Jungkook shouldn’t even be in right now.

The younger man nodded.

Jimin hummed as he thought about it for a second. “Ok, is this another rant about your sex life because I have some—“

“No, no, no, well… maybe, yes? I don’t know hyung, I'm just…” All Jungkook could do was sigh, his frustration getting to a boiling point again.

“I’m guessing with the way you’re acting, things didn’t go as planned…?” Jimin asked wearily, knowing precisely what Jungkook had in store for today. He’d helped Jungkook plan it out. The first thing that was supposed to be on the itinerary was waking Yuri up with a good time. Jimin was the one to suggest it, but the fact he was in a bad mood was enough to let him know things hadn’t gone the way that they’d discussed.

“The whole plan didn’t happen,” Jungkook lamented as he leaned back in his office chair. He could feel Jimin’s confusion without even having to look at him. “She canceled our whole day because of a friend visiting from the US.” He scowled and saying it out loud made it sound even more unreal.

Jimin blinked a couple of times, obviously just as confused as he was. “A friend?”

“It’s something she knew about two days ago before even bringing it up last night. It wasn’t even a full day before our plans!” At least he could’ve gotten a heads-up. He wasn’t sure what that would have done, but at least he could have had more time to cope with the disappointment.

“What?” Jimin questioned in disbelief.

“And maybe, maybe I’d get it if today was the only day they could hang out, but she said they’re going to be here for the next two weeks.” Jungkook was getting angry all over again.

“I’m sorry, what?” Jimin repeated, honestly just baffled.

“And! And when I asked her why they can’t just hang out the next day, she said it’s because they’re only here for a limited time and that we can just hang out whenever!” It didn’t make any sense that she would say that when Jungkook had to spend days working into the early hours of the morning trying to clear his schedule enough so that they could have some time together.

“What the fuck…” Jimin looked just as confused as he felt.

“I know, it’s ridiculous…” He trailed off with a laugh, but the pain from the sudden cancellation made it hard to even pretend this was anywhere near comical.

“Jungkook, I think that’s a lot more than ridiculous…” Jimin tried to reassure, his tone quickly turning sympathetic.

“I know we’re arranged, but I just… I thought being married would be more than this, you know?” He leaned back in his chair. Jungkook simply had dreams for his future and this wasn’t anything he pictured it would look like.

“And there’s nothing wrong with that. You both agreed to try and she has never given you a reason why she’s practically avoiding you.” Jimin said, recounting the fact this wasn’t even the first time something like this has happened.

“I’m wondering if it’s me. Maybe I’m not doing enough or maybe I’m doing it all wrong? Right? It had to be something I did.” Jungkook tried to rack his brain, thinking of anything he did that might have made Yuri so upset at him.

“I don’t think it’s your fault. You’re trying your best. It doesn’t make sense to me why she did this. It wouldn’t make sense to anyone, but I don’t know… maybe she wants her space.” Jimin suggested, it being the only explanation he could come up with to make sense of her behavior.

The words sat in the air for a second, a painful second, like the wrong note reverberating at the end of a musical piece. Jimin didn’t notice the shift fast enough before Jungkook suddenly sat up to look at him, and his brows were furrowed like what he said was crazy.

“Space? We have space all the time, this was the one day I wanted us to be a couple— or at least try and be a couple.” Jungkook chided and Jimin immediately knew he didn’t phrase that in the best way.

“I meant it more so for yourself. I’ve seen and been in enough relationships, situationships, you name it, to know when to back away. Things are obviously going to be even more complicated because you’re in an arranged marriage. I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but maybe taking a step back so you don’t get hurt is something to think about.” Jimin laid it out plainly, but Jungkook maintained his hard expression. If anything, he seemed even more displeased.

“I have to make this work. I’m obviously not doing what she wants!” Jungkook seethed.

“We have no idea what’s going on. I’m just trying to stop you from getting hurt.” Jimin's gaze filled with sympathy, but Jungkook just seemed to grow more angered as he rolled his eyes at him.

“Like you would understand— everyone wants to be around you.” Jungkook scoffed, turning away.

Jimin sat there for a second, dumbfounded, wondering where that came from.

“What are you talking about?”

“Everyone likes you! Everyone practically flocks to be around you. You have no trouble in relationships– yet I can’t even make the one woman I’m married to at least be comfortable by my side.” Jungkook cried out, and it was here that any anger that was threatening to boil over cooled the minute Jimin saw the wetness in his eyes.

Jimin had only been a bystander for the last few years in Jungkook’s life, but he could hardly comprehend this was the same man he’d been friends with for years now.

Jungkook had gone from the guy who shied away from relationships, to suddenly being the only married man in his friend group.

He could never forget the day that Jungkook came to his apartment late one night, it felt like forever ago now. Those were different times; they weren’t the same people anymore. His eyes had been wide and petrified, like he’d just seen a ghost. It practically took the whole night to get it out of him that apparently his parents had made some kind of deal and were basically forcing him to get married to solidify it.

Jimin could hardly keep up after he’d finally managed to get him to speak, and a lot of it went over his head. To be honest he didn’t believe it even after Jungkook explained it over and over again. It didn’t sound real. Whose parents would make their twenty-two year old son get married without at least talking to him first? It didn’t make sense.

It also didn’t make any sense considering Jimin had been the listening ear to how well their three dates– yes only three dates– went before the engagement.

“They were ok.” Jungkook would sigh, before showing a picture of her and talking about how much he struggled to say anything because of how nervous she made him.

In the months leading up to the marriage, Jungkook had eventually heard the details of the deal, and that’s when the mood started to shift. Jungkook’s protests grew quieter to the point the wedding day managed to come and go without any intervention. Jimin still didn’t believe it, even as he saw Jungkook stand at the end of the aisle, even as he watched them get pronounced husband and wife, even as he witnessed the contract getting stamped, and even as he helped Jungkook pack to move to their new shared apartment after they came back from their honeymoon.

It didn’t feel real, but Jimin tried to remain as optimistic as Jungkook appeared when he came back.

“We said we’d try.” Jungkook told him with a toothy grin. The honeymoon had been good apparently.

But that optimism was short-lived and Jimin was forced to sit back and watch as something in his friend shifted. Things weren’t right in the relationship, that much he was sure of. Jungkook had finally said something towards the beginning of the year. It was small things at first, things Jungkook made sound like the typical lovers’ quarrel. But as time passed, it grew more vague, unusual, and desolate. It was never detailed enough for him to get the full picture, but he could see the way Jungkook was practically deteriorating right in front of him.

He had no idea what was going on, but it was moments like this that made his blood boil. Jungkook was normally a closed-off person. He didn’t share his problems with others easily. For him to come to Jimin to talk about his issues in his marriage made him wonder how bad the situation truly was. The alarm bells wouldn’t stop going off in his head.

“Jungkook, what’s going on?” Jimin sat up and rubbed his friend’s back. Jungkook’s office was dark but when he lifted his head, Jimin could see that the tears had finally started running down his cheeks.

“Hyung, it’s me right?! I don’t understand why she… w-why she…” He stammered. The words caused the emotions he’d bottled up to spill over, and the tears became uncontrollable.

“I must be doing everything wrong, right? Am I really that bad? I just… I just wanted to spend some time together. Am I really that bad of a husband?! I try so fucking hard, I swear I do, I just— Hyung I don’t know what else to do…” Jungkook ranted, sounding so dejected.

Jimin only felt the fire burn harder while his brain worked to try and understand Yuri. He wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, that there had to be some rational explanation that he just wasn’t seeing that would explain why every chance Jungkook made plans for them to be together, something had to get in the way. The only thing he could see was how much this affected Jungkook, and she was starting to piss him off.

He got up and went behind Jungkook's desk so he could give him a hug, the younger man only sobbing even harder in his arms. Jimin didn’t say anything, instead ran slow, comforting circles over his back.

Jimin couldn’t help but think that he needed to talk with Yuri. They weren’t close but hopefully they’ve met on enough occasions that he could have a comfortable conversation with her to at least get her side of the story. It would be the opportunity to try and get the chance to understand what was going on. Maybe then he could actually help Jungkook try and win her over.

The moment was interrupted by the blaring ring of the phone that sat on Jungkook’s desk, letting them know that Secretary Yu was calling. Jungkook quickly tried to wipe his eyes, doing his best to pull himself together, but Jimin stopped him in his tracks, already picking up the phone before he could object.

“Hi Secretary Yu~” Jimin chirped, putting on that notorious charm that so easily put people at ease. “Yeah it’s Jimin, I’m taking over the phone for this one….. uh huh, right, wait but I thought— ohhhh, really…?… I see….. Yeah, I’ll let him know, he’s right next to me…. Nice talking with you…. bye.” Jimin frowned as soon as he put the phone down.

“She said we have a meeting we need to go to. Apparently, finance has an emergency that we have to oversee.” His eyes remained trained on Jungkook as he grabbed some tissues, seemingly trying his best to switch back to boss mode.

“Sorry, I probably look very pathetic right now,” Jungkook sadly chuckled as he wiped his eyes, but Jimin wasn’t having it.

“Stop calling yourself pathetic. It’s alright. Cry as much as you need to,” Jimin attempted to reassure him when he noticed Jungkook’s lip still quivering. He looked like he was on the verge of another breakdown. “Don’t push yourself, we still have a few minutes before the meeting starts.” He tried to get Jungkook to slow down but he was already up and out of his chair.

“I’m fine… I just really needed that. This will be good, don't worry.” Part of Jungkook wondered if he was trying to convince Jimin or himself.

He walked over to a mirror. “Are my eyes red?” Jungkook questioned, worried that it looked like he had been crying his eyes out.

Jimin walked over and shook his head. “Just a little, but no one will notice unless they knew what you were doing.”

He nodded, affirmed. “Ok, let’s do this.”

With that, Jungkook pushed through the door, passing Secretary Yu’s desk as she got up to join him, along with various higher up employees who had gotten the message about the meeting.

Secretary Yu pulled out her tablet and moved a little closer. “Director Jeon, I just wanted to quickly give you a better brief of the situation before the meeting starts.”

“Go ahead…” Jungkook’s voice was shaky, but he hoped she didn’t notice.

“Production had encountered an unexpected issue. Good news is that it has been solved already so there’s no need to worry about it. The bad news is that we can’t use any of the inventory they made prior to the fix.” Secretary Yu tried to speak calmly but grimaced when she noticed the change in her boss’s demeanor.

Jungkook’s eyes widened, and he stopped dead in his tracks. All the executives that were walking behind them came to a sudden halt along with him, making everyone nearly bump into each other.

“Wait, what?! But production had been running for–” Jungkook didn’t need to finish that, already knowing the answer. It was far too long and their launch date was about a month away.

This was bad.

“What was the issue?”

“I’m not sure yet—“ The ‘what’ didn’t really matter right now, all that meant was this launch was screwed.

Launches were some of the most important moments of the year. The fact it had been slated for the last quarter of the year, the most important quarter for a company like theirs in turning up profit, they had been counting on it even more than normal. This put everything in jeopardy, particularly anything they had planned for next year. This line had already been delayed to the utmost limit because of numerous other complications so delaying it was almost entirely off the table.

“Just great huh. Really fucking great. This day can’t get any worse can it—“ And he should have learned that words like that challenge the universe to see what other shit it could throw at you.

They finally picked up their hurried pace to the meeting room, but right as Jungkook rounded the corner he collided with something hard and suddenly he was cold and soaking wet. Jungkook just stared down, his suit covered in what he could immediately smell was coffee. A sliver of luck for him was that it was iced, but that didn’t stop him from being covered in coffee— he could only imagine the stains on the beige fabric.

Part of him wanted to scream but as his eyes trailed up to see a woman frantically picking up the cup and her scared, apologetic eyes when she realized it was all over him, he found himself unable to speak. Jungkook immediately knew he had never seen you before; he would have remembered you.

Your red blouse was tucked into your short pencil skirt, which perfectly fitted to your form. Your legs were long as you stood up, accentuated even more by your tall, black stilettos, and Jungkook couldn’t stop the way his eyes ran over the exposed skin. What seemed to hold his attention the most was your vibrant, red lipstick. For a second he was left a little dumbstruck and forgot about the coffee that was everywhere. You were beautiful, ridiculously beautiful, it was almost crazy. For a second he wondered why you were here and not walking down some runway or the face of every brand imaginable.

He would have noted this a lot more if he didn’t have coffee soaking into his clothes. Right now he just saw you as another problem, making his day that much worse. It was one of his favorite suits too, he wore it to make himself feel a little better about today, but you…

Things just can’t get any worse.

•────•──────────•────•

This can’t be real.

It was your first day and all your worst fears seemed to be manifesting. You slept through your alarm, you missed your bus, and your much needed caffeine was all over this handsome stranger— though you really couldn’t say you saw that one coming. The embarrassment you felt creeping onto your cheeks in front of all the people staring at you in the hallway was enough to melt you into a puddle. Worst of all, your supervisor who was walking right next to you saw everything.

It couldn’t get much worse.

“I’ll clean this up. I’m so sorry! I should have paid more attention to where I was going!” You panicked as you scrambled to find something to help fix this. You looked to your supervisor, but he seemed even more distressed than you for some reason.

You finally turned back to the stranger and his gaze met your own for a brief moment. His eyes were wide and looked almost like a kicked puppy at how much sadness filled them for a split second. It really was only a second before you noticed the more expected glare of annoyance.

“Just,” He sighed. “Clean this up, okay? Director Son, please tell the team I’ll be a bit late. Hyung, can you…?” Jimin quickly nodded before speeding away.

Jungkook just walked past them, not bothering to acknowledge anyone any further. In truth, he was a second away from bursting into tears again, but they didn’t need to know that. Instead, he just hurried off to the bathroom and waited for Jimin to bring the spare suit he kept for emergencies such as these.

It seemed things could get worse.

Your eyes were wide as you watched him swiftly walk past you, not even bothering to look at you. You knew he had every right to be upset, but he was a bit rude. It was clearly an accident and he didn’t even give you time to apologize properly.

“Yah, what’s up with that guy?” You mumbled. His annoyance had been a disease and it was quickly spreading.

“That guy?! Y/n do you know what you just did?!” Your new boss was clearly exasperated and that just made you a little confused. It was then you noticed everyone who was still in the hallway had their eyes on you, their hands were over their mouths, and they all had this look of horror on their faces like you had just committed the worst crime imaginable.

“Who was that…?” You finally questioned, your heart already beating out of your chest.

“I swear you’re going to get us both fired and you only just got here. I swear…” Director Son rubbed his temples and cursed silently to himself, a look of worry speedily etched its way into his features.

“Director Son, what did I just do?” You asked, growing even more anxious. He finally turned to face you.

“Y/n, that was Jeon Jungkook.”

You still looked confused and this made him laugh— a worried, nervous laugh that made you know you had royally fucked up.

“You just spilled coffee all over the CEO’s son.” He put it plainly. It was only then that the pieces of the puzzle came together and started to make sense.

What….have…you……done?

“That’s my boss, your boss, everyone who works on this floor’s boss.” The words only seemed to set the reality into both of you.

“We’re going to have to pray. Get on our hands and knees, beg for forgiveness, and hope he doesn’t fire us or tell his father.” Suddenly, Director Son sprinted to the office area and returned with a bunch of napkins.

“We have to see him in the meeting too. What am I going to do?” Director Son said with apprehension, throwing his hands up in the air. He already had so much bad news to deliver and now his newest employee had spilled coffee all over his boss.

He was fired for sure.

You hurriedly went to help him start cleaning up the coffee, but you were barely paying attention. You were just dazed because, at this point, you were convinced you were about to get fired on your first day.

Suddenly, someone else was coming up beside you. “What a great entrance, huh?” A deep voice chuckled as he put more napkins on the ground.

“It’s only my first day and I’m already ruining everything.” You huffed, getting the feeling you wouldn’t be here much longer.

“You have to admit it was pretty funny~”

You stopped. “No, it wasn’t. Do you know how humiliating that was?!” You finally turned to see yet another handsome stranger, but this time this guy had a warm, welcoming, boxy smile on his face.

“I do, but it made my day better. Nice to meet you, I’m Kim Taehyung!” He stretched out his hand.

You smiled weakly, feeling better that someone could laugh about this. “I’m Y/n. Nice to meet you Taehyung.” You said as you quickly shook his hand.

•────•──────────•────•

Jimin burst through the doors, emergency suit already in hand.

“You alright?” Jimin questioned as he set the suit on the counter.

Jungkook turned toward him, clearly teary-eyed. He shook his head. “I just want to go home.” He tried to laugh as he started unbuttoning his shirt. He would have been better off not coming in today.

“Maybe you should. Today just doesn’t seem to be your day, huh?” Jimin tried to joke and smiled when he saw Jungkook chuckle.

“I have meetings later though. I have to stay till then.” He just sighed. Jungkook had already felt guilty about leaving and hardly being at work today because of his plans with Yuri, but going home right now seemed selfish considering the dire situation. He didn’t want people to think he was running away and leaving them to deal with this mess alone. It’s not like he had anyone waiting for him back home anyway. There was no need to rush anymore.

Jungkook spent most of his time at the office more than at home. He wanted to show that he was working hard, it was something he knew was essential to gaining everyone’s trust. Since he was still pretty young, people often doubted his leadership, but he earned his spot in the company just like everyone else did. Jungkook had been working here since he was nineteen, interned even longer, and started off at the bottom like everyone else. He didn’t want to be the spoiled, rich kid inheriting the company simply because his father is the CEO. He wanted to make sure that by the time he became CEO he would have built up the same respect that the rest of the employees held for his dad.

As a result, leaving earlier or taking days off was something he tried to steer clear of as much as possible, but today… things just weren’t working out. He feared that being here any longer might make him explode.

Once they figure out this whole situation, he’ll immediately go home after his last two meetings are over. Right, that was the smart thing to do. He couldn’t risk having a breakdown in front of everyone.

“Hyung…” Jungkook said suddenly after he managed to get his pants up. Jimin hummed. “Thanks for being here with me.” His voice wavered slightly.

“Of course, I’ll always be here when you need me.” Jimin said softly. Jungkook was extra sensitive today. He usually was able to reserve the waterworks for sad movies or when he was alone in the apartment, but today he couldn’t seem to keep his emotions at bay.

When they both came out of the bathroom, Jungkook and Jimin hurried to the meeting room ready to assess the current crisis at hand. Everyone was already in their seats when they walked in, and upon seeing Jungkook, they scrambled out their chairs to stand up and bow.

Jungkook took a seat at the head of the table and Jimin in the seat to his left. Director Son was already standing at the pedestal in the corner of the room with a gloomy expression practically carved into his features. This was probably even worse than what he was told, judging by the solemn tone of the room.

He was antsy to hear just how bad it was, and was about to tell Director Son to continue, when he spotted you at the end of the table.

“Director Son,” Jungkook said, curiosity peaking. He knew pretty much everyone who worked on this floor, but you were definitely not familiar.

“Who’s she?” He pointed directly at you, making your attention turn toward him.

Director Son scrambled from behind the pedestal, realizing he had forgotten to introduce you because of the incident earlier.

“My apologies, sir.” Director Son addressed Jungkook before turning towards you and motioning for you to stand. You quickly bounced on your heels, not wanting to piss him off even more. If Jungkook didn’t fire you, surely he would.

“Everyone, this is L/n Y/n. She’s our newest member of our financial team. It’s her first day here.” Everyone gave you strange looks as most people here at this table had witnessed the incident earlier.

It’s like you made the worst first impression you possibly could have.

The silence was deafening as everyone stared; you were tempted to run away, fake your death, get a new identity, and attempt to start your life over knowing things couldn’t get much worse than this. It took a moment, but eventually Taehyung, who sat right beside you, started clapping— slowly but surely everyone joined him. You looked down and smiled, mouthing him a thank you before you sat down.

Your eyes flickered over to Jungkook who was still staring at you. Your skin warmed as his gaze bored into you.

“Thank you, you may begin.” Jungkook finally said, leaning back in his chair.

A new line of products was supposed to be released shortly before the holiday season— namely a new line of TVs that had already been delayed multiple times, all for various reasons during development. They had been forced to push the date back as far as possible, right to the point before there would start to be major repercussions. Production had promised that they would be able to meet this new date, and production began a few weeks ago. Jungkook had thought the most troubling stage was over and the only thing that was left was handling this launch with the marketing team now. But a malfunction that was only realized this morning had been noticed, and all of the inventory they had managed to produce before today was completely unusable.

To make matters worse, the date they needed to have everything shipped out by was too close to have the now scarce inventory hit even the low range of their planned profit margin. It was a disaster and after Director Son explained the issue, Jungkook was ready to pull out his hair. Of course this had to happen today, of all the fucking days everything just had to go wrong. He couldn’t even think straight as everyone around the table started suggesting ideas, too busy trying to pull himself out of the funk that made him practically useless. He was convinced he was cursed, that had to be it because how does this all happen in one day?

This fuck up jeopardized everything— it was their biggest source of profit for the year and they thought they’d be able to make up for all the delays by having it at such an important part of the year. They already decided to invest extra in advertising to help boost sales far beyond what they’d traditionally expect. Now without the numbers they had planned for, the profit they had wanted to reach was virtually impossible. This was detrimental to next quarters budget and especially the following year. Any plans, projects, anything they had planned was now at risk, and—

The meeting ended up going on for quite a while. Everyone panicked as they tried brainstorming ideas that could be used to rectify the situation:

Some suggested seeing if they could push the launch back, but at this point that was even more disastrous than just releasing whatever they can manage to get done. Others suggested that this fell on production and that they should use intimidation to try and make the numbers get as close to what was planned. Jungkook normally was against ideas like that, but it was mind boggling how poorly these products had been handled so far. He had already been planning to meet with the executives over at the factories to figure out who he needed to hold liable for this. Others went on about distribution, how their department who handled Seoul, should be prioritized and that they should focus on the bigger stores, such as malls, in order to hopefully increase the chances of selling everything they could to at least get the highest profit they can. It went on and on. Another radical suggestion was increasing the price of the line of TVs to try and force a similar profit margin.

People just kept going and going and Jungkook was ready to bang his head against the table to hopefully get himself to wake up from this nightmare. Everyone was so loud as they bickered and fought that their way was better, and he tried his best to suppress wanting to just scream for them to just shut up and walk away from the situation all together. He was overwhelmed and it was even worse that he felt unhelpful, all efforts went to keeping himself firmly planted in his chair and not letting the tears spill over again.

What ended up surprising him was that it was you who came up with the best solution. In between all the nonsense, you were also very vocal during the meeting. You were knowledgeable as you spoke, asking questions any time you could and also giving your two-sense on the suggestions the rest of the team kept spewing out. Most of your takes he found himself easily agreeing with as you countered how none of those ideas worked. If Jungkook hadn’t encountered you before, he wouldn’t have guessed you were the same clumsy woman who spilled coffee on him earlier today. It was absolutely shocking considering the fact that today was your first day and you had only been briefly filled in on the situation.

Eventually though you had given your own opinion and one that stood out from the masses.

“Do nothing.” You had put it so simply. You argued that there was nothing that could be done and instead that they should just send out the inventory they created after today, though less of it, as planned and capitalize on the opportunity to create even more demand for the line. If production could get their shit together and deliver the product as promised, plus with the added reputation of the company, they should certainly sell, and sell quickly. While this would not prove fruitful immediately, during the time they would work on getting the next shipment together, this would create a demand that would hopefully be able to make up for any losses encountered during the launch.

It wasn’t the best considering what they had thought this new launch would bring, but it was the best idea he heard all afternoon, and the one he ultimately picked they should explore further. The team first had to crunch the numbers to make sure they could afford that type of risk, but at the moment, waiting, letting the scarcity create demand, and gently still pushing the production team to try and get the inventory as high as possible, was what he sent everyone away with in mind.

Jungkook wanted to hate you, you had basically ruined his favorite suit, but seeing you in this meeting had him momentarily forgetting about the incident in the hallway. He never really considered firing you. Despite being incredibly petty about the suit, he didn’t want to take his anger out on you or Director Son. This meeting just made him realize how great of an addition you would likely be for the team. If this was your first day and you had already managed to help work out a crisis, he could only imagine what you would do for the team’s future.

But today just wasn’t the day he could forgive you completely.

Thanks to you he was able to go home around the time he had planned. Since the entire financial team was there, they were quickly able to cover the points of their original meeting that was scheduled, and he ran off directly afterward to meet with Director Cho in his office for a discussion about marketing. It was still in the afternoon by the time he got back to the apartment. Part of him hoped he would find Yuri waiting for him with open arms, and they would leave together to start their day as he had planned.

It was wishful thinking, but that didn’t stop the disappointment from burning his heart when he came back to find it exactly how he had expected.

Empty.

Jungkook sighed and kicked off his shoes. Today was horrible.

He was about to head straight for the beer they kept in the fridge, but the various ingredients he found inside gave him an idea. If he didn’t try at all, how would he ever make this work? As much as Yuri hurt his feelings, he would still put on a happy face and be a good husband.

He got straight to work, tying up his apron and rolling up his sleeves.

Jungkook first contemplated what should make, and he decided pretty quickly once he double-checked what they had. Then he moved on to pulling out all the ingredients and putting them onto the counter.

He wasn’t a master chef or anything, Jungkook had hardly cooked for himself his entire life— his parents always had a chef to prepare their meals. It was when he moved out that he realized how much he enjoyed it. It wasn’t too often that he cooked, but when he did, it always brought him so much satisfaction knowing he made it. Not to brag, but despite his lack of experience, Jungkook could easily follow a recipe and turn out with something pretty decent at the end.

He decided to go with gimbap— it was relatively easy to make and increased his chances of not messing it up. By the time he had the rolls cut and ready on the plate, the sun had gone down.

Jungkook smiled as he looked at his creation. It was a little misshapen and the ingredients were spilling out from the sides, but he had high hopes on how it’d taste; he’d thrown in all of his favorite ingredients. It was cute and showed it was made by his own hands. He hoped this would be enough for them to at least spend a little time together when she got home.

He sent her a quick text telling her about a ‘little surprise’ waiting for her at the apartment and to hurry home as soon as she could. He even added a heart at the end, a sign of peace, so they could put what the day could have been behind them and move on to shaping what they could make of it now.

Jungkook let out a satisfied sigh before taking off his apron, grabbing one of the nicer containers they owned, placing the food inside, and setting it on the dining table ready to be eaten whenever Yuri came back.

He hoped this would be enough to get her to come home soon.

He changed into more relaxing clothes and headed straight to the couch, deciding to continue that show he had started a little while back. He hadn’t planned to be here long; for some reason, he pictured Yuri bursting through the doors at any second, but he should have known he would end up disappointed yet again.

After more time passed, Jungkook eventually pulled out his ice cream and the beer he’d promised himself not to go for.

He was depressed. It was worse than when he was in his office earlier. He wanted home to be his escape from the day he had, but it only made the problem worse just like he feared. All he could do was drown out his darkening thoughts with comfort cream and beer.

Even more time passed by and there was still no Yuri. At this point, Jungkook had to call Jimin knowing he couldn’t be alone right now. He was on the verge of another breakdown.

True to his nature, his hyung was at their apartment in no time.

Jimin’s face fell the minute Jungkook opened the door. His friend looked even worse than when he left the office, his eyes were lifeless behind the smile he tried to show. It hurt even worse when he noticed the uneaten dinner on the dining table. He could see Jungkook had pulled out all the fancy candles, plates, and silverware, but they remained untouched; clearly, he was waiting.

“Sorry I called you so late… I just didn't want to be alone right now.” It was more than that, and Jimin knew it.

In truth, the thoughts that seemed to keep echoing in his head worried him. Not even his favorite movie could take his attention away from the harsh realization of what he was facing right now. He knew not even Yuri coming home at that very moment would solve everything. He just needed someone to talk to, someone to distract him from his thoughts.

Jimin pulled him into a hug before guiding them inside. They both ended up sharing a few beers together, Jungkook venting nearly the entire time. It was good and played as the much needed therapy he wanted.

It was well into the night that after a few crying sessions and more beers, Jungkook was tipsy and better enough to send Jimin away.

It was late, really, really late.

He sent a few more texts to Yuri, now starting to get worried. None of them were answered.

The only thing that kept him sane was the fact that this wasn’t the first time it’s happened. She’d ghosted him before, leading Jungkook to nearly have a panic attack before she came back, claiming her phone had died. He just hoped maybe that’s what happened today.

More time passed by and his eyes started getting heavy as he continued to stare at his TV. He probably would have fallen asleep if it wasn’t for the sound of beeps from someone putting in the passcode for the door.

Jungkook sprung off of the couch as the door opened to reveal the girl he’d been wanting to see the entire day. Yuri slowly closed the door behind her, probably thinking he was asleep. All the lights were off except for the TV.

“Yuri?” He asked hesitantly, a bit scared he was dreaming.

She quickly turned around as soon as she heard his voice.

Part of him was tempted to yell, even scream at her for abandoning him the way she did, but he was in no mood to pick a fight. Instead, he steadily waddled over to the front door where she was standing, careful not to bump into any furniture but the room had started to spin.

Jungkook was a bit stunned when he noticed her outfit. It was dark, but he could still see she was wearing this short, little red dress that seemed to sparkle even in the darkness. He had a feeling that she and this mysterious “friend from the US” had probably gone out to a club. He didn’t even feel like interrogating her. Nope, instead he finally made his way over, wrapped his arms around her frame, buried his face into her shoulder, and bathed in her warmth.

Maybe he was a little more than tipsy…

“Missed you so much…” he whispered quietly into her skin as he placed gentle kisses on her shoulder, the slur in his words even noticeable to his ears.

Jungkook felt her arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer, a wave of excitement that he’d been missing all day washed over him.

“Did you really?” She lulled like a siren’s song, leading him down a path to forget everything that happened. He wanted to say something, but being drunk left him unable to form any cohesive thoughts to convey his feelings; the hurt he felt being abandoned, how much had he wished he spent this entire day running around Seoul with her by his side, how much had he hoped she would just come home so they could, at the very least, share a meal together. All of these moments, memories, time, and energy wasted.

But he didn’t want to turn this into another fight, instead he just nodded into her skin. “So fucking much.” It was a little more crude than the romantic declaration he was going for, but it didn’t matter. He meant what he said, he really did miss her.

Yuri hummed lightly into his ear, and he couldn't stop himself from pressing her against the wall, pulling back slightly so they were eye to eye, and resting his forehead against hers. Her presence was intoxicating, in a way that made all the worries so easily wash away. He was supposed to be mad, he had every right to be, but for some reason that didn’t stop his hand from coming up and his thumb gently caressing her cheek; so soft and warm.

He was definitely more than a little drunk at this point. Not to the point he was confused where he was, but he was faded enough to be wobbly on his feet, and the liquid courage was certainly flowing through his system to make him bolder than usual.

A moment passed, one that if he was more sober, he would have thought through more. Did he want this? Should he turn back? But whatever he felt in the past, it didn’t really matter anymore. His wife was here now, he should be happy.

If he was questioning it anymore, the look in her eyes was enough for that seesaw to finally land. It was sultry, like she wanted him to forget and he wanted to as well.

Jungkook felt the rush surge faster than any rational thought could stop, his lips were on hers in a haste to finally feel her. It was slow at first, Jungkook wanting her to know just how much he wanted her to be here with him. It made him feel so warm, the affection he’d been craving for all day was finally happening.

He couldn’t stop himself from pushing her further into the door and picking up the pace. It all happened so fast.

Suddenly his tongue was down her throat, he could taste the sweet alcohol she had probably drank, and with the fleeting reminder of the dress she was wearing as his hands ran up her thighs, an odd sense of possessiveness came over him. He had no idea who she was with, if this “friend from the US” even existed, but he had the odd feeling of making her remember exactly who she was to him. She was his wife, everyone, everywhere should know that.

Jungkook hastily picked her up and put her on the kitchen counter that was closest to him. His hands roamed her sides, tracing every curve with a hunger and need that saw no end. Soft sighs of pleasure fell from her lips as his hips steadily rocked into hers, and he relished in any sound he was able to draw out of her. All he wanted to do was make her feel good, that’s all he ever wanted. Her hands gripped his shirt tightly and he wished for nothing more than for her to rip it off of him. His skin burned and pleaded for more. As much as he enjoyed kissing her like this, this wasn’t enough.

He couldn’t wait anymore. He picked her up again and led them over to their shared bedroom, he didn’t even bother turning on the lights as he gently laid her on their bed. Jungkook quickly slotted himself between her thighs and dived straight back to her lips.

His mind felt fuzzy, maybe it was just because he was more drunk than what he thought, but as he ground himself into her clothed core, the sudden realization of everything hit him hard.

They haven’t had sex in months, literal months since the last time he felt the warmth of her walls around him. They’ve done other things, but full-blown sex…

“Yuri… please….” He cried as his hand traveled under her dress to hover over her panties. Yuri quickly nodded and that was all he needed to lose his mind.

He pulled her dress up and moved down so he was staring at her clothed core.

He quickly pulled her panties down her legs before his face was buried between her thighs, and he was diving in for his rightful meal. Jungkook was good, using his tongue to work her clit and he had two fingers buried deep inside her, all the while he was practically fucking the mattress in a haste for any kind of friction.

When he said they hadn’t had sex it was more so that Jungkook hadn’t been touched in months. Jungkook was a good husband, always there to take care of his wife when she wanted him. But she never let him take things further. This was just another running problem in their marriage. His sex life was pretty much nonexistent. He never wanted to be that guy, and especially with the fact that their marriage was relatively new and they were still getting to know each other, he knew sex was going to be a tricky subject.

There were clear boundaries set, and he was okay with taking things slow right now, but does it leave him frustrated sometimes? Yes, extremely.

The amount of times Jungkook has done this for her, he knew her patterns and how to get her cumming on his tongue in no time. Her moans and pleas were all music to his ears, knowing he was doing something right for once.

By the time he pulled away, Jungkook was hardly keeping it together. He practically ripped off his shirt and pants, tossing them off the bed somewhere into the abyss of the darkness.

When he turned back to her, he was practically drooling at how fucked out she looked; Yuri’s hair cascaded around her, reminding him of the angel she looked like on their wedding day, and her dress was pushed up to her thighs and the straps were brought down revealing her tits.

Oh fuck. Now, now, now.

Jungkook hurriedly kissed her, before reaching over to his nightstand, and opening the drawer to grab a condom. The box wasn’t right there so his hand had to search and feel his way around— it didn’t take long, but it was too long in his desperation when he was finally pulling one out.

“Jungkook, wait… what are you doing?” Yuri asked once he finally managed to pull one out of the box.

He looked at her hoping this didn’t mean what he thought it did. He kissed her again and buried himself into her shoulder. “Baby please… wanna feel you…” he pleaded, grinding slowly into her heat. A moan fell from his lips, the friction was desperately needed. He would take anything at this point.

“Been so long… I missed you.” It was bad. His body was crying out for something, and he wanted Yuri to give him just that. It was starting to hurt.

“But it’s late, Jungkook. I’m tired.” Yuri sighed, making his heart drop.

“But…but…” he mumbled. He moved so he could see her face and he could immediately tell she wasn’t joking.

“It’s fine, I promise I’ll be quick. You worked me up so much, just—“

“Jungkook, not tonight, okay?” She grumbled, clearly done with the moment they shared. This is what happens all the time. He didn’t know why he thought it was going to be different considering the occasion, but that didn’t stop him from feeling a bit disappointed.

Jungkook just sighed and rolled off of her. His skin burned with need and he knew he had to do something. It hurt, it had been so fucking long.

He tried not to be mad but he was. He hurriedly got up from the bed.

“I’m going to take a shower… a very long shower.” He huffed.

“Jungkook you better not do that shit in our—“ was the last thing he heard before he slammed the door.

He tried to be calm; he didn’t want to get mad over something like this. The marriage was still new, there were going to be hurdles. It happens.

Today had just been terrible. All the emotions he had tried his best to suppress were coming out; he was angry, he was depressed, he was frustrated. There hadn’t been one moment that he felt like things were okay, today had been just as horrible as he thought it would be and then some since he woke up this morning.

All he wanted was some type of relief.

He quickly turned on the shower to hopefully stop her from hearing him, and got to work pleasing his body in the only way he could. His hand covered his mouth while the other traveled down his body, finally grabbing a hold of himself.

He thought about how today would have turned out if it went the way he wanted. Jungkook would have woken his wife up with every affirmation of how much he loved her, how happy she’d made him since they got married, as he showered her with all the praise his mushy heart would come up with in that moment.

Jungkook wouldn’t have wanted to leave her that morning, but duty calls and with the taste of her still on his tongue he would have gone to work. It was hard to be apart for those few hours. He would have struggled to keep his eyes off his phone as she cutely texted and pleaded for him to be home soon because she missed him so much.

The minute he would have returned Jungkook could hardly get inside before she was tackling him with kisses. She would have been already dressed for their day out, wearing that pretty off-the-shoulder dress with flowers all over it, knowing how much that one drives him crazy. But none of that mattered because the dress was hitting the floor before he could close the door behind him.

Another moment of passion and love as they did it right there on the floor. Jungkook would have been enthralled by her warmth and her love. She would have let her heart’s declarations spill from her mouth continuously as he held her in his arms; that she wanted him here, that she cared for him just as much as he did for her.

Then they were finally able to pull away from each other. It was just long enough that Jungkook could whisk her around Seoul to all the destinations he’d planned to take her. They’ve both lived in Seoul for most of their lives but Jungkook made sure to pick obscure but momentous places around the city that he was sure she’d enjoy:

A jazz lounge for a late lunch, he’d seen videos of the band that played there and he knew it would have been perfect to have in the background as they conversed. He also planned to take her to the mall– one of her favorite spots to go with her friends. He hoped to share some of that excitement and treat her to whatever she stumbled across that day, showing his wife just how much she means to him. He had pictured holding the bags while she dragged him along to wherever she wanted to go, sitting down for hours as she tried out dresses and him struggling to convey that he really meant it when he said she looked beautiful in whatever she put on. There was so much more, a day full of wonders, kisses, hugs. But the night would have ended with a nice, romantic walk by Han River, enjoying the sights and scenery in the cool September air. They would have hopefully gotten the chance to stop by this dessert place Secretary Yu told him about that she promised Yuri would love. Maybe they would have kept walking as they ate and talked their hearts out. Jungkook had practiced all these cheesy lines he hoped she would have liked, at least laugh at, anything to see her smile.

It would have been magical and when they would have made it back to the apartment, they would’ve immediately gone back to the room to end the night with a bang. She would have felt so good, he knew she would. He probably would have lost his mind just having his wife close and by his side. His heart would have melted every time she would look into his eyes. Her hands on him, pleading, pleading for him to make her feel good.

No, maybe… maybe even in this reality, the one where he had a horrible day, even then it would have been so nice to be with her. That’s all he wanted.

He whined and whimpered as his thumb traced along the tip, precum leaking profusely. His hand made quick work of its strokes, hastily trying to chase the pleasure he’d been denied of the whole day.

He had to resist the urge to scream when he ended up spilling all over his hand, stomach, and thighs. It had been way too long.

Jungkook ended up in the shower not too long after, the water cool against his skin to keep the burning desire for more at bay. Instead, he just thought about his day, how shitty it was.

Like of all days, he got coffee spilled all over him? It sounded like something out of a sitcom.

But you…

Suddenly he thought back to you, your long legs and red lipstick. You were definitely one of his saving graces. Without you, he would have been stuck worrying about this launch. That wasn’t completely alleviated, but the team had texted throughout the day that your method had looked promising, and especially considering what they already invested into advertising, the wave of demand would hopefully nearly double by the time the next shipment rolled out. Though it wasn’t going to be exactly the profit they had expected to bring in from this quarter, this method should hopefully in the long run make up for the botched launch.

Without you he might have still been at the office, the teams and him trying his best to come up with some sort of solution in dealing with the consequences and ramifications of such an unexpected fuck up. It was still odd that it had been weeks since production started, and they had only noticed this malfunction now…

He needed to head down to the factories and see for himself what exactly happened, but he already had a few names in mind of people who might not be here for much longer.

But he wouldn’t worry about that now, instead his mind drifted back to you during the meeting today.

He already knew working with you was going to be interesting, and despite the rough start, he was looking forward to seeing where you might go.

main masterlist ✩ series masterlist » next chapter

#bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #for the birds #bts #jungkook #bts fluff #bts angst #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bangtan boys #bangtan sonyeondan #bts fan fiction #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst

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nicksbestie · 9 months ago

Note

i love your work sm! can you write a johnnie fic where he had a long day and the reader is cuddling with him and telling him how proud they are of him. i just feel like johnnie needs to hear it 🫶🏼 thank you!!

thank you SO SO SO much!! i absolutely can <3 I loved this prompt!!

my reqs are now closed but please come chat about jake and johnnie with me whenever!!

Tired

warnings : mentions of mental health and negativity, feelings of depression and sadness

word count : 811

pairing : johnnie guilbert/reader (romantic)

enjoy!!! <3

Content creation could take a lot out of a person, especially when they were already struggling with their mental health. Despite the fact that it could be more flexible than a more average job, it can still provide the same, if not more, amounts of stress. Once you start a career like that, especially when it gains following and attention, you have a large internet presence, and people on the internet can be so incredibly cruel. People are more confident than ever when they are hiding behind the safety of a screen, unlikely to be revealed, and that shows in any career with a majorly online platform.

This wasn’t to say that there weren’t a lot of positives to having a more internet focused career, like the flexible hours, and sometimes the pay is even better than any other job, if your following is big enough. And most of the time, the positives are enough to keep you going through the negative portions. However, sometimes those negative portions feel like they’re going to be the end of your career. Johnnie had been growing a large internet presence for years now, and had seen or gone through just about everything there was to see or go through. But that didn’t mean that it affected him any less, and sometimes, the fact that he had seen it before caused it to affect him more.

Today was one of those bad days, where the negative parts had gotten to be way too much. You weren’t aware of this quite yet, due to the fact that you weren’t home yet. You were on the way home, and had no idea that Johnnie’s work day had not gone as planned. His stream had ended abruptly, you knew that, and way before it was scheduled to end, but you had chalked it up to some technical mishap or something of the sort, as that difficulty did happen every once in a while. It wasn’t often, but you knew that it wouldn’t be too out of the norm, and it wouldn’t have raised many alarm bells with his fanbase. So, you weren’t worried at all, thinking you had no reason to be as you pulled into your garage, walking into the house and calling out that you were home.

You did become a little confused when you got no response. Johnnie always called back to you, regardless of whether he was working or not. You always came home at nearly exactly the same time, and he knew that, so whatever he had or was playing, he always had the volume down low enough so he could hear when you came in and began talking to him. Due to this, you went looking for him, gently knocking on his bedroom door when you realized it was locked. He had a key above his bedroom door, in case of any emergency, but you would never open it without his permission. You respected his privacy, and because of that, you spoke through the door, asking if he, or you, could open the door.

Once you received his affirmation that you could open it, you reached up to grab the key from the top of the doorway, and easily unlocked the door. Walking in, your heart felt like it was breaking. The room was as dark as possible, the shades on the windows closed tightly, no lights on, not even his monitors. Your boyfriend was nearly invisible, seemingly attempting to hide under his blankets, his back to you, completely ignoring the fact that you had just walked in. You sat down on the side of the bed, softly pulling the covers back and resting a hand on his shoulder.

“Baby, what’s going on?”

He didn’t turn to look at you, simply shrugging.

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

You stayed silent for a minute, laying down next to him and throwing the covers back over you both.

“You’re clearly not fine. But if you don’t want to talk about it, we don’t have to. Do you want a hug?”

He immediately turned over, letting you wrap your arms around him, and your heart broke into even more pieces when you saw the tear tracks staining his makeup free cheeks. He hid his face once he realized that you had noticed how it looked, refusing to speak, and just letting you hold him. You had absolutely no problems staying there as long as he needed you to be there, and it ended up being a couple of hours. You were hugging him, reminding him that he was loved, and that you were proud of him. You were sure that he would be back to his normal self soon, but you were more than happy to help him carry the emotional weight while he was struggling. After all, that’s what you do for the people you love.

#johnnie guilbert #johnnie guilbert fanfic #johnnie guilbert x reader #johnnie guilbert fic #johnnie guilbert fanfiction #johnnie and jake #fanfic #jake webber fluff #jake webber fanfic #jake webber fanfiction #jake webber #jake and johnnie #johnnie guilbert smut

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silkscream · 5 months ago

Text

CHAPTER 11: POISON ROOT

ੈ✩ gojo satoru x reader, geto suguru x reader

It disgusted you a little bit, needing them like a fiending addict. Living with yourself and yourself alone was starting to get old, though you aren’t sure how much left of you feels whole. You were always fruit split in between a blade, all the gory parts splayed out by the hand of someone greater than you.

ੈ✩ chapter cw/tags: explicit content (18+ mdni) , unprotected sex, drunk sex, threesome, oral sex, cumplay, phone sex, mentions of depression, angst, descriptions of mild gore

ੈ✩ wc: 7k

ੈ✩ a/n: here's a nice and fat chapter for you before we enter The Dark Ages <3

playlist ✸ read on ao3 ✸ series masterlist

“Sorry, what?”

Yaga scowls at you and you’re unfazed. Mostly, you’re exasperated.

“I’ve repeated myself twice already,” he says calmly. More so brusquely, but you didn’t care enough to gauge his reaction. You’re too busy processing his words.

“I—I know, I’m sorry,” you mutter. “But why me? Shoko’s technique is way stronger than mine.”

“Shoko’s technique is not your technique. And unlike her, you actually engage in combat.”

“Because the boys forced me—”

He brings a hand to your shoulder in an attempt for reassurance. You freeze.

“Your technique is remarkable. Stronger than you think,” Yaga sighs, almost in resignation. He doesn’t seem particularly enthused about what he’s proposing to you, but you consider that you’d probably worn him down over the past half hour.

He rolls his eyes at the look on your face. Mouth parted like an animal struck with fear.

“But—”

“There hasn’t been anyone with a technique like yours in over ten years. I remember it. I had a family friend as a teacher here first—she talked about a boy that could regenerate cells. Practiced on plants and small animals as a child until he was able to resurrect bigger ones at your age.”

“That boy isn’t me,” you protest, your brows furrowing.

“He isn’t,” Yaga snaps back. “He died, and his death could’ve been prevented. This is why I want you to do this. I want you to be strong enough so that the same thing doesn’t happen to you.”

You swallow and look down, pretending to be interested in your thumbs. Your hands are delicate compared to anyone else’s. You had always admired people who could make something out of nothing, people who sculpted, crafted. Sometimes, you often wonder if what you do could be considered the same.

You haven’t told anyone, but it’s easy to destroy things with your hands. Much easier than it is to build anything up, to heal.

You’d tried it during long walks through the forest. On your way back from solo missions, you’d take routes that were less traveled, needing to clear your head. Once or twice, you remember finding animals that were victims of hunting. Broken limbs, bleeding out too much for you to save. You’d practice the darker parts of your technique, letting quick rot take away their misery.

“For how long?”

“Just two months. July and August.”

You take a deep breath. You could be alone in Kyoto for two months. The boys would survive. At least, you think Suguru would.

When you tell Satoru the next day, it’s a disaster.

“You’re what?”

“Satoru,” you warn, crossing your arms.

Dealing with him is arduous. You knew he would react this way. He looks at you with irritation, nipping at your bare thigh just to see you pout. You were in the middle of reading when he had barged in, craving the scent of your moisturizer on your inner thighs. Needed the whipped softness of your flesh squeezed in between his hands after some heated sparring with Suguru.

“You can’t.”

“That’s not your decision—”

“You can’t. What did that old man say? Some other guy had your technique and died?”

“I’m not going to die!” you huff, rolling your eyes.

Satoru frowns, his blue eyes glowing. He was free of missions for the past week, treating you to dates whenever he could. It seems that you’ve ruined his bliss. That ugly thought in his head festered in his mind again — the need to possess you. Trap you in a glass cage to stay alive forever like you were his enchanted rose.

“Like hell you won’t,” he mutters. “Which is why you’re staying.”

“I want to get stronger, Satoru.”

“You didn’t even want to be a sorcerer in the first place! And now you’re desperate to train with your little cell regeneration? Are you gonna dabble in necromancy?”

You frown at his condescending tone. He isn’t taking you seriously. He never does. Satoru has always had his way of belittling others, but he’d sworn to never do that to you given your history. You take a deep breath.

“It’s just… an independent study, alright? This could help me in the future. I could go to medical school with Shoko or something, you know? If you’re so scared of me dying because of combat, then I could just focus on the regeneration part and—”

“And what about the other part? How you make things rot and disintegrate?” he asks you incredulously, nearly snarling.

“That’s another thing I can learn to control.”

“But–”

“I didn’t have private lessons like you! I’m not a prodigy like you. Can I just have this one thing?” you plead with exhaustion. You can see the way his eyes flicker with a quiet rage, his mouth turned down into a pout. Petulant even at his big age.

Satoru sighs heavily. He nuzzles his face into your hand, kissing the heartline. You almost feel proud of yourself for not giving into him before the conversation began. He’d come into your room wearing a t-shirt with the sleeves messily cut off, exposing the hard lines of his stomach. Just a gaze had ripped away your autonomy, brain dumb at the sight of him.

You wanted to lick him clean before he opened his damn mouth.

“I won’t tell you what to do,” he says in defeat.

“Thanks.”

You sit with him for a while, staring at the ceiling, hair strewn around your pillow. Silence fills the air save for the sound of his breathing. Eventually, he curls into you, nose into your bare shoulder as he mumbles unintelligible things. His mouth in the shape of I’ll miss you.

“I know,” you murmur. “I will, too.”

Suguru copes by getting buzzed in the daytime. He liked the hope on your face, how the light hit your eyes in a certain way. It meant something more. He knew that you were worth more.

Lately, Suguru feels like less.

Not particularly less than anyone else, though he knows that he’s certainly less than Satoru just by default. He remembers the mission all too clearly—it’s the only thing that haunts his nightmares. The blankness on Satoru’s face, his willingness to kill a group of people just for the sake of it.

He thought he’d lost Satoru forever, that he’d fucked up the mission by letting a bullet go through Riko’s head. But then, of course, Satoru survived. Of course Satoru found a way to bring himself back to life. Everything should be fine, because Satoru came out alive, and so did he. So did you.

It didn’t feel like enough. The taste of curses started to get worse, if that was even possible. Suguru has been starting to believe that he didn’t deserve anything palatable. That the universe was working against him maybe, because his depressive spirals last longer now.

And you’re fucking leaving.

He knows he can have you whenever he wants, but he likes to lick the taste of you out of Satoru’s mouth.

He bites Satoru’s lip and it makes the boy yelp.

“What the hell was that for?” Satoru pouts. Suguru only grins wolfishly.

“Thought you wanted me to make you feel better. You don’t like it rough?”

“Of course I like it rough,” Satoru grunts. “But you know I hate teeth.”

“On your dick.”

Satoru pauses, rolling his eyes, then sinks his teeth into Suguru’s neck instead.

“You smell like a dive bar. It’s fucking 3 pm.”

“Day off, bitch,” Suguru mutters.

Satoru pushes Suguru against the mattress and spoons him, rutting against his ass. It’s always a little violent with them. You used to joke about it—something about dogs and masculinity. Satoru kept wanting to fuck like it was a cage match. Bull-headed, annoying. For Suguru, intimacy always felt like a car crash no matter who it was with.

“You’re not fucking my ass,” Suguru mumbles.

Satoru whines childishly, of course.

“Ran out of lube.”

“Spit?” Satoru begs, his eyes comically large.

“Fuck you, dude,” Suguru scoffs.

“I’m trying!”

Suguru turns to fall onto the bed facing Satoru, then shoves his head downward. He feels numb despite his throbbing cock. He knows Satoru’s mouth is probably watering for him.

“C’mon,” Suguru slurs, unzipping his shorts. “You need to work on giving head.”

“Hey!”

“Not my fault she does it better than you.”

Satoru huffs but leans over the end of the bed anyway, his limbs too long to crouch on the bed. He spits on Suguru’s cock and pumps agonizingly slowly, coaxing out guttural sounds vibrating out of the boy’s throat.

For once, Suguru feels a little powerful when the Jujutsu world’s boy-god chokes over his dick. He looks down and pushes his head down, reveling in the sound of him gagging, throat slack. Not as good as you, but getting better. The drool makes him look pretty. It matched the glazed look in Satoru’s eyes.

Suguru nearly finishes right then and there, the barbed wire inside of his body starting to untangle until there’s a knock on his door. Of course you knock—the polite girl you are.

“S’unlocked,” he calls after you. Satoru makes a noise. Something in between a moan and a sound of protest.

Suguru likes your wide eyes. You’re out of your school uniform, dressed in a white number with embroidered flowers at the hem that hits halfway above your knees.

“Oh… I—”

“C’mere, baby,” Suguru rasps, his hand reaching out for you. He’s so close, threading his fingers through Satoru’s hair before pulling at his snowy mop.

Satoru coughs, his throat raw. It makes Suguru laugh. You watch like you’re outside of your own body, eyes wide. It was easy for them to get you under a spell.

It doesn’t take long for their hands to grope you, have your dress pooling at your waist so that your bare ass is on display. Heathens. Being with them was always like throwing yourself to the wolves.

“So wet,” Suguru groans, circling a finger in the heat hiding behind your underwear. “Wanted a proper send-off, angel? Gonna miss us all the way in Kyoto, aren’t you?”

You can’t respond when your head is already so dizzy with Satoru’s teeth on your collarbone.

“Don’t talk about that, I’ll lose my boner,” Satoru huffs.

“What a baby.”

“Stop arguing,” you roll your eyes.

Suguru decides to be selfish, his dick already out and pulsing from the tease of Satoru’s tongue. He slides it along your folds, wetness pooling right underneath him. It makes him groan, his insides white-hot. He’d been craving this since he’d woken up this morning. The heat was making his moodiness deliquesce into desperation burning like acid in his stomach. He needed you and Satoru like a bullet begging to be lodged, piercing out of a bannister.

“Not fair,” Satoru grumbles, his knees bent as he gropes you. Rutting against the mattress pathetically as he whines, his desperation puppy-like.

His mouth is salty, leftover from Suguru’s precum. His hair smelled like Suguru’s too—he must’ve been copying his hair routine for the hell of it. It was enough to keep him close without asking to sew himself into the boy’s skin.

Suguru looks down at you and your blissed-out face, vulnerable before he’s even entered you. Your mouth is wet from Satoru’s kisses, spit drooling out of the corner of your pink mouth. Suguru smears it around and already imagines himself pulling out of you to finish there instead, just to see it on your lips. He’d like to see you cry again one last time.

You hum when you’re filled with him. Stuttering hips hitting slack thighs. Soft despite the violence inside him, the little voice in his head taunting him to wreck you.

He likes you like this, first. Daisy-soft, his fingers in your mouth until you gag. Yelping in time with Satoru’s stupid whines.

“Twigs,” Satoru breathes, his hot breath fanning your jaw. “Can I put it in your ass?”

You groan, shaking your head as Suguru howls with laughter.

July, 2010

Gakuganji has you on a leash. It hasn’t even been a week and you’ve already gone on two missions, each that ended with you covered in blood, but luckily unscathed. Satoru would have a fit if he knew. The ghost of him hovers on your shoulder at your weakest moments — taunting you, challenging you. You know he wouldn’t be as cruel if he was with you physically, but your psyche conjures him in a way that feels like punishment.

You can’t escape him, either. He’s needier than you expect — visiting you during off times during your weekends, treating them like serendipitous encounters. You don’t believe him, and you shouldn’t.

(He warps to you when he gets in fights with Suguru. When he gets too horny to find someone at a bar, because if it’s not Suguru, it’s you. But he could never tell you that.)

You like to keep yourself busy in Kyoto. Whether it’s immersing yourself in your studies or practicing your technique, you can occupy yourself easily, even if you’re bombarded by images of veiny hands, long black hair, pink mouths. Blue eyes that are too bright, even in your dreams.

You spend most of your time by yourself, anyway. It’s what you need. If not that, then you’re at the local bars with Utahime-senpai, who transferred to Kyoto months before.

“Are you their little plaything?” she teases. You’re loosened up after a few beers, all on her tab, but the mention of the boys sobers you up immediately. You scowl.

“What?” She holds her hands up in surrender. “Everybody knows… Shoko kind of already told me.”

“Of course she did,” you snort.

“I’m just saying, you should be careful. They’re insatiable. And never in their right mind. I could advocate for Geto-kun, but I’m sure Gojo’s already corrupted him.”

Corrupted. It’s a funny notion. You wonder if you’ve been corrupted by both of them. Satoru as your first didn’t bother you. To have Suguru as your second only complicated things. You haven’t known anything else but them. You aren’t sure if this should concern you until Utahime talks about it.

“They’re kind of the same in that way,” you mumble.

“Are they both your boyfriends?” Utahime giggles.

“N-No…”

“So it’s not serious? I know I’m not much older than you, but I still went through a few flings. You shouldn’t let them keep you on a chain.”

“They’re not–”

“Are you sure?” she laughs. “You’ve been checking your phone every five minutes. It’s like they brainwashed you.”

“Hime,” you frown.

“I’m just saying,” she shrugs. “There are lots of men around here staring at you.”

“No, there aren’t.”

“Someone is staring at you right now. Behind you. Blonde. Tacky if he wasn’t like, a little hot like he is.”

“Shut up.”

She gives you a pointed look that causes you to look over your shoulder. Lo and behold, there is a man of that description making glances at you with a cocky smirk. It reminds you of the way Satoru looks at you. It makes your stomach flip.

“See?”

“I’m going to the bathroom,” you mumble.

You move past the crowd to the single stall, plastered in posters from vintage porn magazines and graffiti. Your phone’s about to die, but the group chat with you and the boys has unread messages. It’s mostly Satoru complaining, arguing with Suguru about things that you couldn’t care less about. There are separate messages from them, too. Satoru’s suggestive selfies and Suguru’s words of affirmation. You scoff at the difference between them.

When you return, Utahime grins at you like she’s plotting.

“What did you do?” you narrow your eyes.

“He came over here! I knew it. He was interested in you,” she beams.

“What?”

“Relax. He’s a sorcerer. And I gave him your number.”

“Hime!” You shove her arm lightly, groaning when she laughs.

“You need to get laid by someone who isn’t an idiot.”

You roll your eyes. The many beers are making your head swim too much for you to actually be angry. If anything, your cheeks feel warm at the prospect of someone else being interested in you. It’s not something you’ve experienced in your youth, or now for that matter, since Satoru had sunken his teeth in you so quickly.

Images of him talking to other girls at parties flash in your mind, making you grimace. Maybe Utahime was doing you a favor.

The bachelor in question is nowhere to be found. You curse yourself for not getting a good look at him. A pit forms in your stomach at the idea of him texting you – a handsome stranger who watched you babble drunkenly to Utahime. It occurred to you that you hadn’t even considered yourself something desirable in a context that wasn’t bound to Satoru or Suguru.

On the walk home, the thought consumes you. You aren’t sure if you even know yourself without them. During most of your life, you’ve only known obedience. Intimacy with Satoru was no different, you realize. You were wrapped around his finger since you were children – it didn’t matter that you were apart for years. It would always be him.

You aren’t sure if this bothers you or not. You try to push the thought away, shaking your head slightly as if daydreams of him would fall out of your head. It doesn’t work, not really. You’re drunk. Naturally, you think of his pink mouth. The veins on his hands.

You unlock the door of your room. When you enter, darkness envelops you, which you’re used to, if not for the bright blue eyes that stare back at you.

“Jesus!” you mutter, cursing to yourself once you can get the nearest lamp on.

“What? Not happy to see me?” he slurs, flashing you a sloppy smile.

“Can you at least give me a heads-up before you show up randomly?”

“That ruins the surprise, baby,” he purrs, walking over to you to set his hands on your hips. Trapping you gently.

“You’re drunk.”

“Hm?”

“You’re. Drunk. Why are you here?”

“Had a mission nearby. Then I went to a bar to relax. And then, I thought, warping to Tokyo would take too much for a drunk. Why not stay here?”

“I’m not a motel.”

“C’mon, baby,” he pouts. “You’re not gonna kick me out, are you?”

You scoff, moving past him to sit on your bed and take off your shoes.

Satoru chuckles, taking a seat right next to you, thigh touching yours. “You’re drunk, too. I can smell it.”

“I haven’t even been here for a full month and this is like, the third time you’ve surprised me. What’s going on with you?”

“What? Can’t miss my lover?”

He says lover like it’s an inside joke. He never says girlfriend. Never partner.

“You’re so needy.”

“You like me that way,” Satoru says, his voice velvety. He’s not in his uniform, but a light blue button-down and slacks. You wonder if he’s planned this or if he dressed up for someone else, running to you as the safest option because you’re always there. Always willing.

You’d been ready to sink into your shitty mattress and dream of him. You hadn’t been anticipating the real thing in front of you. It was stupid, how he took your breath away, as if he was still something new to you. As if he hadn’t been in the back of your mind since you were a little kid, always.

“I’m tired, Satoru,” you sigh.

“You sure?” he grins. “You smell like beer. Still trying to have some fun tonight?”

You narrow your eyes at him and he laughs. He comes closer, pinching the meat of your thigh right under the hem of your skirt, chuckling when you swat his hand away.

“So short. Who’s this for, huh?” he taunts.

You swallow back an insult the moment you look down at the way his large hands play with a loose thread of your skirt. How large they are compared to your thigh, the calloused tips of his fingers running circles in your skin.

“No one,” you breathe.

“You cheating on me, Twigs?”

“Yeah, with Utahime,” you roll your eyes.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that. Sounds hot, to be honest.”

Your cursed energy flares. You hate when he belittles you, but you could never do anything about it. You could only fall into his trap, giving into him the way he knows you will. You don’t even notice that he’s caged you within his arms, his hands settling on your hips as his body backs you into your bed. The back of your knees hit the mattress.

His breath smells sweet. It usually does, but it’s something sour this time. Something citrusy, along with the smell of something much too alcoholic. One of those whiskey sours, you guessed. You don’t realize how drunk he is until you look him in the eyes, his blue irises unfocused despite the desperation in his gaze.

“Of course not,” he grins, leaning in to inhale your scent. “You’d never. My sweet girl. My best girl, right?”

“You say that like I’m one of many,” you scoff.

“Are you jealous?” he rumbles, laughing. “As if there’s any other girl I like as much as you…”

He says girl and you think of Suguru. An exception, just barely. You realize how much you miss him, too.

Your eyes flutter closed as Satoru backs you into your bed, teeth grazing your earlobe. You aren’t sure if it’s him or the drunkenness of your brain. You don’t even notice his fingers massaging your thighs, trailing up to hook your underwear to the side to tease your dripping core. It’s his teasing laughter that snaps you awake.

“So wet… did you know I was coming, baby? Or were you expecting someone else?”

You don’t answer. Your breath hitches at the contact of his eager fingers prodding you, pushing upwards into your pulsating cunt before you can protest. The wounded noise you make only spurs him on further.

“You went to a bar, right? Were you thinking about me when you were there? Got yourself all wound up?”

You don’t reply. He’s too busy pushing his fingers to the very edge, stimulating the spot that makes your knees buckle before you can even form a thought.

You gasp, your mouth parting. Slack-jawed, eyes rolling back as you get closer to the edge before he’s even inside you. It could be pathetic if you cared, but Satoru always made everything around you melt, like you weren’t in your own mind anymore. You accepted being a body that belonged to him, nothing more.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he breathes, his lips tickling your jaw. “You’re so quiet.”

“Satoru,” you sigh. His other hand rubs the small of your back, touching the bare skin underneath your thin shirt.

He digs his fingers in further, knuckle-deep until he hears you make a pained noise. He grins at your broken moan like he’d just won a prize. He doesn’t stop, either — he wanted to hear more of those sounds out of your mouth. It was proof that you were still his, wrapped around his finger.

You try to catch your breath as you lay back on your bed, his strong arms hoisting you up to the wall. You hiss at the feeling of his teeth on your thighs, biting desperately. Satoru was already sweating despite only coaxing bliss from you once.

He claws at you, pulling at the buttons of your blouse and tugging your skirt down until you’re left bare for him. He groans at the sight of your silky skin, the way your chest heaves in anticipation. Everything about you is ripe, ready to break underneath his hands.

He’s less vocal this time when he takes you, pushing into you before you can say anything. He doesn’t realize how drunk he is until he does this, considering every sense of his was numb until he entered you, igniting his synapses on fire.

You whimper from the abruptness, aching between your legs. You think that you would’ve bled if you weren’t so in love with him, but you knew better. Anything from him made your entire body warm and pliant, wet beyond your comprehension. You hated it, sometimes.

But you couldn’t hate anything about it now. You were doused in bliss.

“My girl,” he slurs. “So fucking perfect. Say it.”

You mutter nonsense under your breath.

He bends you in half, your calves resting on his broad shoulders. He chuckles at your pathetic whines.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“Fuck — I – I’m your girl,” you sob.

“My perfect girl,” he mutters, correcting you. He groans when he looks down at you, his hips stuttering. His thrusts are harder than usual on purpose — he’d rather die than tell you that he’d only warped to you because he was having a panic attack in his room alone.

He thought he could get his mind off of you, off of Suguru, who he’d assumed was angry with him all day. There were only dry texts from the both of you. No woman at the bar could compete, even if he managed to get a decent handjob in the bathroom. He could only think of you.

Satoru knew you’d hate him for it. He was disgusted with himself. He feels it now, aching inside the cavern of his chest when you moan his name, knowing he doesn’t deserve a praising word out of your mouth.

He whines, on the verge of tears as he rides out his orgasm in your cunt.

“Shit,” he hisses into the skin of your neck.

You can barely reply before he kisses down your stomach, licking himself out of you with his nails digging into your thighs.

“Satoru, what are you—oh, fuck—”

“Cum for me,” he slurs, lapping at your clit as he pushes his fingers into you. He pauses, mesmerized at the way his cum drips out of you, only for his fingers to push it back into the hilt, up to his knuckles.

You sob in protest, your thighs shaking as he plays with you. He doesn’t stop for a second. It’s almost as if he doesn’t realize you’re there, his heavy-lidded gaze fixed on the way your pussy swallows his fingers.

“S’too much,” you whine, grasping his wrist tightly.

“Fuckin’ love you,” he murmurs under his breath. You don’t hear him. Your body convulses as he continues to play you like an instrument. He only stops when he looks up to see tears pricking your eyes.

“S-Satoru…”

“Fuck,” he mutters. He finally retracts, licking his fingers as he looks at you intensely. “Mine… you’re all mine.”

The glassy look in his eyes is from the alcohol, you assume, but there’s something tantalizingly too real about the expression on his face. Raw with something he only buries inside his gut. He snaps out of it like it’s not something you’re supposed to see.

He grunts when he lays his head on your lap, his fingers digging into your skin possessively as you tremble. You prop your head up on your pillow, trying to catch your breath as you stroke his hair.

“Why’d you get so drunk?” you ask quietly. “Were you alone?”

“Of course I was,” he scoffs, almost defensive. But he smells a sweetness on his skin that isn’t from you, and he knows you’ve already picked up on it.

“You could’ve texted or called me instead of breaking into my dorm.”

“You just hate fun,” Satoru mumbles.

Despite his attitude, he rubs his cheek against your thigh like he’s a pet. He thinks about taking you again, just to shut you up — enough to have both of you sweating, the musk of your sex drowning out any remnants from the bitch that Satoru had tried to use hours before.

Nothing could replace you and he had to live with that.

He nips at your thigh, his mouth getting dangerously close to your core. You whine as you pull him back by his scalp, like the scruff of a dog. Satoru is always insatiable when he’s drunk, which is saying something considering what he’s like sober. His cravings for you are always intense. When he’s not in his right mind, you’re more considered prey than a craving.

You don’t have the energy to respond to him. His warmth satiates you for now as he locks his arms around your bare waist. The light breathing fanning your stomach calms you.

When you wake up, he’s nowhere to be found, but there’s a small floral arrangement on your desk. White orchids and blue hyacinths.

August, 2010

You hate bringing anything back to life as much as you hate desecration.

It’s unnatural — though you know that nothing about the Jujutsu world is natural. Everything to you is a myth you have to deal with. After knowing Satoru for so long and seeing what nasty curses humanity could birth, you shouldn’t be stunted.

It makes you feel a bit ill when you realize how much power your hands wield. As ordinary as you’ve always been, these days you often wish that you were the true epitome of it. Only human, unable to see the horrors of the world. Left in the dark when it came to sorcery. Perhaps you aren’t cut out for this, despite how much you tried to convince Satoru you were.

His voice echoes in your mind. His pleading. The ways he wanted to protect you. He’d belittled your technique for a reason, maybe. You aren’t sure you’re cut out for this shit.

Necromancy is only exciting the first couple of times. After that, it’s the reanimation of body parts that freaks you out. It doesn’t matter that it’s the revival of small birds and rodents on a lab table. You feel like you’re playing God and not even doing a decent job of it.

It catches up to you in your dreams. The image of you getting held down, leaving you to resort to your technique. Rotting flesh. Even in your unconscious, the smell is somehow striking, as if you’re really there. Other times, you find horror in the reanimation of corpses under your hand. Split limbs coming together. Limbs that belong to people you love.

Tonight, you’re shaken by the image of Suguru mauled beyond belief. Sacrilegious violence that makes your stomach turn.

When you wake up in a sweat, gasping, the alarm clock on your bedside table reads 1:12 am. You dial his number before you can even come to your senses.

“Twigs.”

“I told you not to call me that.”

You hear Suguru chuckle, deep and sweet like teeth sunken into cake. You’re filled with warmth almost immediately.

“What’s up? Isn’t it past your bedtime?” he breathes.

“Had a nightmare,” you mumble.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“No,” you sigh.

“Fine. What are you thinking about, then?”

“You,” you mumble.

There’s silence on the other end. Despite this, you can still hear his grin. You can see his little smirk perfectly in your head.

“Yeah?” his voice lowers. “What about me?”

“Y-your hands,” you mumble. “You make me feel safe.”

“Is that right?”

You make a small noise that shows your agreement, but it’s noncommittal. You hum at the thought of him. You’re sleep-dazed, partially wishing for this moment that he was more like Satoru. Able to talk your ear off without any effort from your end.

Suguru had always known you differently. He had you memorized as much as Satoru did, but uniquely, given the similarities between your personalities. He knew how you worked and he never held it against you.

Satoru would probably try to pry it out of you. Suguru would already know.

And at this moment, he knows. It’d be infuriating if you didn’t see it coming.

“You’re upset,” Suguru says.

“No.”

“You are. Or you’re pent up, which is also like being upset. Need some catharsis?”

“Maybe,” you mumble.

“Tell me what’s wrong, then. Or tell me about your nightmare.”

“No.”

He laughs.

“Stubborn as always,” he purrs.

“I just wanted to hear your voice,” you whisper.

“You want to hear me be mean to you. You like not being in control. That’s what makes you feel safe, isn’t it, princess?”

“Shut up.”

“C’mon, baby,” he laughs. “Give me something to work with.”

Your eyes nearly glaze over as you watch the flickering lights outside of your dorm. A broken street lamp flashes on and off, shadowing your room in darkness only to illuminate seconds later, back and forth. Unpredictably so. You aren’t sure what else you should look at while you’re still so drunk on Suguru’s voice. You think maybe you’d handle this phone call better if you were far from sober.

“I fucked someone else yesterday.”

The line goes silent. Your heartbeat picks up.

After almost an eternity, you hear Suguru’s voice again. It’s soft, almost cooing. It feels awfully dangerous despite this.

“Yeah? Who?”

You swallow thickly.

“This guy who got my number last month. Like, I didn’t give it to him — Utahime did,” you ramble. “But then we started texting and stuff and he’s… funny. He, uh, came over yesterday.”

“Did you like it?”

You imagine your throat closes up. Part of you wishes it would, that you’d just pass out immediately for no reason just so you didn’t have to have this conversation. You curse yourself for even bringing it up.

“Y-Yes.”

“You don’t sound so sure about that,” he chuckles.

“I am…”

“You don’t have to be so scared, baby. I know that Satoru took away your virginity, but he’s not some kind of god watching over you.”

“I know,” you huff.

“But you feel guilty, don’t you? Like you’re betraying him?” he teases.

You open your mouth to say something, then close it. You notice how he talks about Satoru and not himself.

“Do you care?”

“I know how you feel about me.” His answer is simple. Blunt. It almost sounds sarcastic, but Suguru often talks like he’s cock-sure about everything. Even if he isn’t, he’s always held a certain confidence that was different from what Satoru exuded.

Satoru was a bad liar, to you, at least.

“Tell me about your boy. What’s his name?”

“He’s not–” you gruff. “Naoya. His name is Naoya.”

“That Zenin brat?”

“Huh?”

“He’s in the Zenin clan. A right bastard, I’ve heard.”

“He seems fine,” you mumble.

“Someone’s defensive,” he teases.

You pause, staring at the darkness of your ceiling. You fix your shorts, your fingers grazing the wetness of your core. You didn’t even realize you were aroused.

“I should go back to sleep,” you whisper.

“I thought you couldn’t. That’s why you called me, right? You need some help?”

“I don’t need help,” you scoff. “I just… I had a nightmare and wanted to talk to you.”

Suguru smiles. He knows you can’t see it, but he’s beaming in the darkness of his room. He’d been restless for the past few days after some disagreements with Satoru. He tried to blame the heat on physical altercations — the sun burning down to rev up the irritation in their shared systems like they were still boys. Always wanting to pin each other to the ground.

They didn’t have you to mediate, so they’d come out of arguments with bruises. Marks from skin tugged too harshly. The ghost of teeth biting down on flesh.

“I wish you were here, babygirl,” he sighs, his tone desperate. You almost cringe at it — you always assume he’s playing with you.

“Yeah?” you snort.

“Mhm. It’s funny. You didn’t even wake me up when you called. I was already awake, thinking of you.”

“Were you, now?”

“Mhm,” Suguru hums. “I just kept thinking about your thighs. How small your leg is compared to my hand.”

Your breath hitches and he almost laughs when he hears it.

“Can you do something for me, baby?” he asks. “Want you to touch yourself. Tell me how wet you are.”

You gulp. Your fingers prod at the hem of your athletic shorts, the nylon riding up as you squirm in your bed. Your index and middle fingers prod at the center of your core experimentally. You’re fucking dripping and it makes your breath hitch.

Suguru calls your name.

“I”m…” you stammer. “I’m wet. Why?”

“Poor thing. Maybe that’s why you can’t sleep, no?”

“I-I’m fine… I just—”

“You should play with your clit. Since I can’t be there to do it for you,” he breathes.

“What?”

“C’mon, sweetheart. I can tell my favorite girl just needs to relax. That’s why you called me, right?”

You whimper. It was maybe half-true. Suguru had stopped answering his texts as frequently as he usually did, and you missed the sound of his voice. The odd ache in your chest wasn’t something that you felt like exposing to anyone else, not even Satoru.

The silk of Suguru’s voice brings you back. You wanted to breathe him in, but he hadn’t visited like he said he would. Didn’t have the warping feature that Satoru had, which to this day, still startled you whenever it happened. Ocean eyes whipping your senses from thin air, like a lightning strike.

Despite your recent gripes about him, you needed the both of them like you needed air. At least to make it all more bearable. It disgusted you a little bit, needing them like a finding addict. Living with yourself and yourself alone was starting to get old, though you aren’t sure how much left of you feels whole. You were always fruit split in between a blade, all the gory parts splayed out by the hand of someone greater than you.

You needed Suguru’s musk, his hair in between your fingers as he rocked into you. Your hands were too small compared to his.

He has you panting, sweating through Kyoto’s mugginess. The dorms were in even worse shape here than on the main Tokyo campus, probably why Gakuganji was such a vapid old man. Everything was too hot and falling off the bone.

“I feel like I’m hallucinating. It’s like I can smell you through the phone,” Suguru murmurs, his voice like a mirage. You’d laugh if you weren’t so deep in your cunt, fingers pruning and pushed to the knuckles.

Suguru knew you would do anything for him, so he made you torture yourself because he wasn’t there to do it himself.

Your groans are muffled from you smothering your face in the sheets, knees pressing down and ass up. Willing to humiliate yourself without him even being there.

“Don’t tell me you’re giving up already,” he chides.

“I’m not,” you whine.

“How many times have you cum?”

“None.”

He laughs. “What are you thinking about?”

“You know what.”

You’re close to tears by the time he lets you cum. The sound of his voice hitting you deep in your core, insides permeated with the thought of him. Sweeter than smoked sugar.

It was the sound of his grunt that tipped you over, imagining him with black strands sticking to his high cheekbones with sweat. The apples of his face candy-pink. Where Satoru looked cherubic, Suguru looked like a girl’s first wet dream.

“Were you touching yourself?” you pant, coming down from your high. You don’t bother putting on your underwear again.

“Obviously,” he groans. The vibrations of his voice made the speaker blow off-kilter like the audio of a shitty VHS. “Came all over myself.”

You could fall asleep to the sound of his static hums. The chaos in your gut is settled by the time your alarm clock strikes devil’s hour.

“How are things?” you ask sleepily.

“With me?” Suguru asks. “Fine. Same as always.”

“You sound tired.”

“It’s three in the morning, sweetheart,” he chuckles dryly.

“Mm. My phone bill’s gonna be so high.”

“Get Satoru to pay for it.”

The bastard probably would, if you asked.

You don’t get much out of Suguru for the remainder you’re awake. His answers are deflective and clipped. He hangs up by the time he hears you breathing, knowing you’ve fallen asleep.

He sighs in his room, rummaging for his pills. If nightmares didn’t keep him up, then the sheer unwillingness of his brain’s tranquility was often enough for him to run a graveyard shift. Stumbling in the dark, half-dead. He’d gotten productive in finishing the video games he’d started with Satoru by himself. Not much else.

His throat feels dry. He couldn’t differentiate the tastes of anything anymore. It all tasted like curses.

You keep having dreams about Suguru.

Tonight, there’s two of him.

One is the image you’re used to – hair swept up in a bun. Broad chest in his Jujutsu Tech uniform. Eyes crinkling into half moons.

The other seems to be an alter ego. A cursed version, one with eyes to kill and blood on his hands. Hands that are trying to tear you apart.

When you grip his wrist, you can see the imprint of your hand on his skin. Flesh falling away, much too easily. The air around you splinters like you’re in a glitched matrix. The Suguru you know and love falters beside you, his skin suddenly sallow. Pale as bile.

When you scream, nothing comes out.

Pseudo-Suguru smiles as your Suguru fades away into ash. You stare into his cat-like gaze, the familiar of his mouth.

“Come with me,” he says.

It’s the last thing you hear before your body wakes you up in a sweat. You gasp as you jolt awake, fingers curling your damp bedsheets. You’re further startled by the crack of thunder as a torrential downpour occurs without warning — unusual for late August, considering the rainy season had died down weeks prior.

You sit up and reach for your phone almost automatically, your hands shaking as you go through your contacts. Your fingers hover over two names as you swallow thickly.

A few beeps follow the push of the call button.

“We’re sorry. The number you have dialed has been disconnected or is no longer in service.”

#gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you #geto suguru x you #geto x you

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allfortheslay25 · 5 months ago

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How the Minyard-Josten kids see each other’s andreil

Translation cuz I know my writing is shit👇

Milo: Maya’s Drew is cold to me cuz I’m not his son. He’s bigger than my Drew and older. He looks cool but I can tell he dislikes me. My Drew can win in a fight

Milo: Maya’s Neil is old and tired looking and really attentive. He’s weird.

Milo: Ollie’s Drew is old but he’s way less squishy than my Drew. He is nicer than Maya’s but if he’s skinny, where will I nap? No more tummy naps :(

Milo: Ollie’s Neil is nice but suuuuper old. He likes me but I prefer my Dad.

Maya: Milo’s Andrew looks like he’d fight the McDonald’s for not during his depression with a happy meal. I want to slap his smile off his face. At least he knows how to dress. Still a loser with gross lungs.

Maya: Milo’s Neil is a harass. He looks like a loser. Scaredy cat. Why Milo listens to him, I have no clue. Raggedy Andy called, he wants Neil to keep the clothes cuz Neil ruined the style. The only good thing is that he lost his awful red hair.

Maya: Ollie’s Andrew is pale and skinny. He looks like an anorexic version of my dad. Subtle wrinkles too. I would sketch him… oh he’s kind too. Gross.

Maya: Ollie’s Neil is a pain in the ass. He’s sweet, it makes me sick. Pale like Ollie’s Andrew. Would be an interesting watercolor painting if I was up to it.

Ollie: Milo’s Dad is funny looking. I like his hair. Why is he fat? He looks emo too. My dad doesn’t smile this much but my dad’s smile is nicer.

Ollie: Milo’s DadMom looks like a depressed Bambi. He’s super young. I like that our eyes match. But he’s too tiny. My dad can beat him.

Ollie: Maya’s dad is mean. He looks like a scary dark beach ball. Or a thug. He looks like a thug for sure. Scary.

Ollie: Maya’s red dad is also scary. Zombie guy. My dad has scars too but this guy is crusty.

Maya’s Andrew does not like Milo because he has not a single connection with him. Milo is a stranger and his existence only means pain to Neil. Her Neil feels a responsibility towards him. The Andrew doesn’t like Oliver either but is way more indifferent since Oliver’s existence isn’t painful to Neil. Maya’s Neil really likes Oliver but pales at the idea of two chaotic kids.

Oliver’s Andrew is indifferent like Neil but they both are kind to Milo and Maya anyway. Those two are far more put together than any of the other andreils.

Milo’s Andrew ignores them and would definitely have a childish argument with both. Neil would be confused on how to feel.

Facts: Maya has an issue with saying rude things. When she’s older, she keeps her mouth shut since she was taught “if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all”. So she drags them all through the mud in her judgments

#aftg #all for the game #art #doodles #fanart #neil josten #andrew minyard #oc #oc art #milo josten #maya minyard josten #andreil #Milo Minyard Josten #Ollie Minyard Josten #miloverse

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wttcsms · 1 year ago

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time, mystical time (cuttin' me open, then healin' me fine) ; simon "ghost" riley.

pairing simon "ghost" riley x f!reader word count 3.3k synopsis snapshots of the defining moments in ghost's life. content contains slight angst, mild descriptions of alcohol abuse (ghost's father) + domestic abuse (non-explicit desc., but the act itself is mentioned various times), a bit of tiny look into my take on ghost's background, nsfw content, slight size kink, breeding kink, creampie, domestic fluff, pregnant!reader in some scenes, children (dad!ghost) author's notes takes place in this au & honestly is a lot more enjoyable of a read if you read that fic (+ the other connected one shots [go on my masterlist]). fun fact: simon is referred to as simon in the scenes with only you and his family. he's ghost anywhere else.

His mother had always told him that as a baby, he was always rather quiet. Scared her half to death, she would say, ‘cause he’d rarely ever cry. Even the doctor got worried when he first came out.

Looking back at his childhood — perhaps the lack thereof — Simon assumes it’s probably instinctual. With a deadbeat drunk of a father armed with a heavy hand, being quiet probably saved Simon’s life more times than he wants to admit. He’d be knocked upside the head for the littlest of reasons, shouted at for even less.

I’m the man of the house.

His father’s slurred justifications for doling out unfair punishments ring through the dark halls of his childhood home. Simon hears it while he cowers inside his closet. His room is dark because his father doesn’t believe in nightlights, and mum got slapped hard for daring to go against his wishes and trying to sneak Simon one. She thinks he didn’t see it, but Simon sees a lot more than he should. Since then, he’s been sleeping in the dark. It’s not so scary anymore.

There are scarier things that lurk in the light, anyway.

It’s stuffy in the closet, and he knows it’s stupid to hide here because dad will find him any second now. The punishment is bad when he gets to drinking, and it gets worse whenever Simon tries to hide.

A loud thump against his door makes Simon hold his breath. Then, the door bangs open from the weight.

Kicking doors open comes second nature to Lieutenant Riley.

The loud crash of the door popping from the rusty hinges shocks the poor girls previously trapped behind them. All of them stay huddled together, staring fearfully at the loud, big men toting even louder, bigger guns. The hollowed cheeks, hopeless eyes, and array of bruises on their skin makes him sick. It’s a hot summer’s day, and Simon hates that after all this time, his observation from his childhood still stands true:

There are scarier things that lurk in the light, anyway.

A bit hypocritical, he supposes. After all, he walks around in broad daylight, and he’s certainly no saint.

With the help of the rest of his extraction team, Ghost makes quick work of herding all the girls out of this depressing underground prison and out into a free world. He’s careful to be gentle with his touches, nothing more than a gentle guiding hand. Even with his gloves, he can’t be certain he’s not tainting them. Sins don’t wash away as easily as blood does.

He’s the last one to leave, but he doesn’t exit alone.

For a while, he felt a tight grip on his arm. Someone’s been clinging onto him this whole time, and with everything that’s happened, he can’t find it in his heart to shake them off. With no other distractions present, he finally turns to see who’s gotten so attached to him.

This is it.

This is the moment where Simon Riley claims his life begins.

It’s such a juvenile feeling, he thinks. Waiting for his phone to ring, wondering why you haven’t texted or called. It’s so silly. So what he saved your life? It’s not like you owe him anything. It’s his job. He had a duty. Nothing more, nothing less.

Besides, he’s an asshole. Not the type of asshole who thinks he’s entitled to your company since he rescued you, but the type where Soap and the rest of the team aren’t too surprised he doesn’t have anyone to come home to.

He can’t sleep.

It’s been weeks since he gave you that burner phone. Surely you would have called, even sent a simple “hello”, if you really wanted to. He knows there’s not much to do in that facility. He knows that you haven’t been sleeping well. He knows that he should go to sleep; he’s got an early flight to catch in an active warzone, and there’s no way in hell he’s gonna get any semblance of rest as a result.

Instead of sleeping, he’s grabbing his own burner phone off the nightstand and staring at the screen. It’s a simple enough task, really. He can just head straight to his contacts list and click the only one that’s there. Isn’t it traditional for the guy to call first, anyway? Or is he just fooling himself into thinking that you’re waiting for him to make the first move? Do you want him to make the first move?

He’s never experienced this before. This newfound, boyish anxiety. The equal mixture of both hopelessness and hope churning in his stomach every time he sees you; do you think of him as much as he thinks of you? The question is then followed by a decisive no. He hasn’t survived this long because of blind optimism, so there’s no point in indulging in it now.

Will you come back then?

You looked up at him while asking this question, and you looked like an angel unfairly punished to walk alongside man. He wanted to spend the rest of his life constructing a stairway to heaven that you could use to make it back to your rightful home. When you look that beautiful and then proceed to ask him a question, what else was he supposed to say besides,

Whenever you want me to.

Perhaps God truly is as merciful as he is all-seeing, because after a minute of contemplation and staring longingly at your contact, his phone screen lights up with the notification he’s prayed for (the only thing he’s ever prayed for, really).

You’re calling him.

And true to his word, he’s on his way.

He’s never said I love you before, and as a result, he’s too scared to make his first attempt to do so, even though you just told him those three words yourself.

(He might tower over you, but looks can be deceiving. Simon thinks you’re much stronger and braver than him, in all the ways that matter.)

I love you.

He resists the urge to beg you to say it again and again and again, on repeat for the rest of your lives.

He doesn’t say it back immediately, but he does let you take off his mask for the first time.

He doesn’t realize that the wide-eyed, awestruck, soft gleam in your eyes as you take him in, fully, for the first time is the same starry-eyed look he gets whenever he looks at you. He has a feeling you’re well aware of it, but now he finds the courage to confirm it.

“I love you.”

And with a smile that could bring him back to life, all you have to say is, “I know.”

His mask is in your hands, after all.

“You never quite outgrow it, do ya?” Tommy’s got his hands in his pockets, but Simon can still picture the wedding band on his younger brother’s finger. He had been happy when Tommy tied the knot with Beth, if not a bit jealous.

Now, though, Simon’s got his own wedding band. It’s tucked underneath his uniform, hanging from the same chain his dog tags are. It rests against his chest, in a spot closest to his heart, right where it — you — belong.

Dad’s dead. Tommy says mum cried, but he couldn’t understand why. After all, she’s the one who faced his wrath for the longest. She’s been on the receiving end of all his harshness. She’s the one who’s taken the most hits, the hardest hits. Simon nods in agreement but doesn’t tell his brother that he thinks he might know why.

Simon knows his mother is a good woman. A long time ago, his father wasn’t the man he knew growing up. He doesn’t know when the change in his personality happened, and Simon somehow feels like it’s his fault. He was the catalyst, the trigger. While she was pregnant with him, that’s when the violence and the drinking and the anger started. He knows mum isn’t crying to mourn the man he became; she’s just finally safe to grieve about the man she loved and lost. Simon hasn’t been able to face her in a while since he’s come to the conclusion that his being born was the cause of everything horrible that has happened to her.

“No, I suppose not,” Simone says. The house feels smaller than he remembers, but when he walks into his childhood bedroom, he’s transported to darker times. The room is as big as the whole world again. This room, this damn house, is his only world. He’s nine and cowering in fear again. He’s little again. He’s scared again. He wants to run away, but his scrawny little legs won’t let him. Dad won’t let him.

Then he blinks and realizes that the room hasn’t changed all that much.

Within the next week, Simon gets the house demolished and the land sold.

“Ta-da!” You present to him a knitted, baby-blue blanket. The beginning stitchwork is sloppy at best with considerable improvement the further he looks. Between every thread, Simon can practically feel the love that’s stitched in it.

“You like it?” You ask him, looking at him expectantly.

“It’s perfect.”

“Liar!” Your laugh rings through the cabin, and Simon feels like he’s being bathed in sunlight from the warmth of the sound alone. It’s distinctly yours, and he doesn’t want to be the barbarian who just takes and takes, but he wants it all to himself. He wants to catch it from the air and stuff it in his pockets and save it for when he’s in a foreign country and can’t sleep at night.

“Why would I lie? It’s perfect.” You’re perfect.

“I messed up, like, five times trying to get this damn thing started! And it was so hard to get into a good groove since Simon Jr. thinks he’s a little football player. He’s been kicking like crazy!” To prove your point, you get closer to Simon and take one of his large hands, placing it on your growing belly. He’s sitting, surrounded by tools and pieces of a crib that he’s trying to build, and all he can do is look up in admiration at you, the most beautiful woman to walk this earth, an angel too good for this world, the mother of his child, his wife, you. Your hand is on top of his, and you squeeze it gently, and he loves the way the diamond on your wedding ring glitters in the sunlight.

“He’s a strong one, alright.” Simon chuckles, feeling the way his son bumps against your belly.

“Must get it from you, then.”

That’s funny. Simon was just about to say that he’s pretty sure he gets it from you.

When he’s with you, Simon likes to take things slow. He can be rough at times, demanding and conquering you with nothing but brute strength and vulgar compliments. Like a true soldier, you take all of his transgressions in stride.

Tonight is one of the nights where Simon will indulge and finally take things slow. He likes to savor every moment he gets with you because no matter how much time has passed, the pessimist in him doesn’t stop reminding him that time is fickle, and the future is never promised.

But Simon wants to build a future with you. Simon has built a future, but he’s greedy. So, so greedy. He wants more, he wants all of you, he wants everything you’re willing to give him. The way you part your legs for him, how you willingly — lovingly — let him in, even though nature resists.

No matter how many times he’s split you open on his cock, even with the slickness of the previous two orgasms he so happily wrung out from you, there’s still resistance as the width and length of his cock struggle to slide into your cunt.

“It’s okay, love, let me in.” His whispers of reassurance are barely heard over your little whimpers. You’re nodding, trying to be a good girl for him, but the fact of the matter is that Simon Riley is incredibly too big. He is a god among men, and you find yourself squeezing his hand tightly as the first few inches of his cock make its way into your warmth.

“I know, darling.” He mumbles, but his gentle words are spoken roughly. Desire coats every syllable, and his voice is gravelly. He’s holding back, restraining himself from giving in and giving it to you roughly. His hand, so much larger than your own, squeezes back. He’s slowly pushing more of his length inside your needy cunt, and you moan at the feeling of being complete.

You don’t realize the tears that are welling up in the corner of your eyes as he completely enters you, the tip of his cock perfectly pressed against your cervix. Simon’s always been good at mixing pain and pleasure, and tonight is a testament to that.

“More, please.” It comes out like a weak, little whine, and Simon is putty in your hands. Completely malleable to your every whim and desire. His love wants more? He’ll give you everything.

Your lashes are wet with your tears, and he watches as tiny streams of tears fall down your heated cheeks. Your face feels warm to the touch, Simon realizes, as he leans down to kiss away your tears. Poor thing. You must have exerted yourself too much when you were thrashing around earlier as he refused to remove his mouth from your precious pussy until you came in his mouth.

You’re no match for the sheer strength and power of Simon, who’s built like a Greek god and probably just as powerful. You surrender to the overwhelming sensation of his cock stroking in and out of your cunt, and you’re damn near shameless in your greed and desire for more.

“Cum in me. I want you to give me another baby, wanna grow our family with you.” You toss your head back in pleasure, feeling the way his grip on your hand tightens at your words. The two of you move perfectly together; you wrap your legs around his waist as his free hand grips your hip to keep you steady.

“Yeah? My wife wants me to fuck another baby into her?” Simon grunts, doubling his efforts to ensure that his cock hits deep enough to press against all the spots that have your walls tightening around him.

The throbbing of his cock and the allure of expanding your family with Simon, with having a part of him always, even after the two of you have left this earth, is enough to send you over the edge. The ecstasy is all-consuming; all you know is Simon. You feel him to the depth of your core, his heat pressed against your own, your shared bedroom heavy with lust and love.

He loves the way your body goes slack from the intensity of your orgasm. It lets him know that he’s fucked you just the way you deserved to be fucked, filled to the brim with his cock and his cum and all his love. He kisses you hard, savoring the natural sweetness of your lips pressed against his own. He muffles your moans as you feel the endless stream of his cum spilling inside of you, the warmth of it all being almost too much to bear.

“Mmmf,” You pull back from his kiss, just so you can look him in the eyes as you give him his favorite reminder in the world.

“I love you.”

He responds with another deep kiss. It says enough. It says I love you, too, and we’re going for a round two.

He has all the time in the world with you.

He doesn’t feel any pain. That’s odd.

He looks back to the last minute. He heard the distinct sound of a gun firing, and he stumbled a bit as fate had its cruel fun and allowed the bullet to miraculously hit him in the one area his bulletproof gear just so happened to miss. What are the odds?

He looks down. A dark stain is forming on his uniform, and the spot only continues to grow bigger. He moves a hand down to where the stain is at — it’s wet. A fresh wound. Fuck.

The sentiment is shared with Soap, who for once in his life doesn’t have anything smart to say. Ghost wants to say something cheeky, then. Just to keep him calm. It worked with Tommy.

What’s the matter? Don’t worry about me. Should’ve seen the other guy. Almost had him in the last round.

The words, Ghost realizes with growing dread, don’t quite come so easily.

It’s like his brain knows what he wants to do, but nothing is going as planned. Soap is saying something, but he just can’t quite make out the words. Johnny, speak proper fucking English, why don’t ya?

No. That’s not the issue. Ghost frowns, but he doesn’t think Soap notices because of his damn mask. He can’t speak for shit, and he can’t hear, either. Actually, now that he’s really trying to take in his surroundings, everything’s a bit hazy, too. Like someone’s put some stupid film over everything, and stuff’s all slightly blurry. Just out of focus, just out of reach.

“—get you home, alright?” The words sound all jumbled up, and Ghost only really catches the last end of whatever Soap’s blabbing on about. He’s a good kid. Great soldier. Stellar human being. He mentioned something about going home, but that’s just silly. The mission isn’t over yet, get it? They can’t go home ‘til the mission’s complete.

“—don’t close your eyes—”

Home sounds nice. Warm vanilla in the colder seasons, jasmine with equal hints of something fruity and floral in the warmer ones. You fill the house with these scents, even matching your daily perfume to it. Doesn’t matter much to him, though. He hugs you close to his body and breathes in deeply, and he can still smell just you. No perfume will ever compare.

Oh, and a busy kitchen. You’re covered in flour, his son sits on the counter, his daughter in her high chair. The entire kitchen comes to life, and every time he sees all three of you giggling in unison, his favorite sound of all, this kitchen becomes his whole world. This is what he goes to war to protect.

Baby blue walls and a crib. Crayon drawings of a stick figure family. Watching his daughter’s first steps and his son clinging to your legs.

Maybe Soap’s right. Forget the mission. He should just head home.

But first, he’s really fucking tired. He’ll shut his eyes just for a minute.

He blinks a few times, eyes struggling to adjust to the light. Light slaps against his face were the cause for his waking up. A damn shame, honestly. He rarely dreams, but when he does, it’s of you, and he was dreaming about something certainly worth remembering for the next time he’s reunited with you.

He rolls over to confront whoever dared to ruin the one good rest he’s had in a long time, only to come face to face with bright, innocent eyes the same shade as his own.

“G’morning,” his son says, the words still clumsy on the two-year-old’s tongue. When Simon doesn’t answer immediately, he resumes slapping his father’s face.

“I’m up, buddy.”

The little toddler claps his chubby little hands together in pure joy.

“Dada home?”

Like a sight for sore eyes, you appear in the doorway, gently opening the door and pushing it open. You’ve got your daughter in your arms, and you look ready to scold the young boy for disturbing Simon until you realize that he’s already awake. There’s that smile of yours that Simon loves so much, the one he swears could bring him back to life.

“I’m home.”

author's note i intended for these little scenes/glimpses of his life to be the things ghost sees as he's bleeding out on the field. get it? the whole "life flashing before your eyes" thing BAHAHAHA. don't worry, he's alive and very much well, enjoying much needed domesticity with you + your little family. the last scene is him fucking u good and well, and that's the lil dream he was having. muahaha

#ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #one shot #drabble #fluff #angst #cod mw2 x reader #cod mw2 smut #ghost smut #simon riley smut

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cherienymphe · 1 year ago

Text

Love Bites III (Steve Rogers x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, suicidal thoughts, vampire!Avengers, mentions of Peter x reader, bloodplay, violence, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, jealous!Steve, modern setting they just wealthy af

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | divider by @firefly-graphics

➥ series masterlist

summary: In a coven, the master’s word is law, and humans are nothing more than pets to symbolize wealth and prestige. They tell you that being the master’s pet is a great honor, but the poorly constructed façade is broken when you forsake honor for love.

Your reflection stared back at you as you gazed into the mirror, feeling so far removed from your body as you brushed your fingers over the faint bite marks on your neck. They were something to be worn with pride, something to be admired—coveted even—but as you stared at them, all you could see was the physical evidence of your imprisonment.

As your lips parted, memories of a sweet-natured and soft-hearted vampire came to mind.

You absentmindedly wondered if you would’ve worn Peter’s mark with pride had you been given the option, and the silent question seemed almost silly because the answer was obvious. You would’ve happily let Peter leave whatever mark he wanted on you, because that would’ve been different. It would’ve been a mark you consented to, a mark that came from you willingly giving yourself to the dark-haired vampire. That kind of mark would’ve been the result of you surrendering yourself to him with perfect trust, and he in turn choosing to handle your trust and vulnerability with care.

It would’ve been a mark of love.

Such a thought almost brought tears to your eyes, but you pushed them back, refusing to let Steve smell them and come running. The thought of the blond angered you in a way that was hard to even describe. Since that night he’d raped you again, unable to stomach your refusal of him any longer, you hadn’t so much as given him a hint of anything less than a cold disposition.

Yes, you smiled at him when it was important, and you responded when he asked you things, but it was never with anything more than a tight and forced curve of your lips. Your tone never went beyond anything that could be deemed a polite neutrality. Even when he drank from you, you closed your eyes and held yourself as still as you could be.

A mere tolerance of Steve and your situation had turned into nothing short of repulsion.

It really hadn’t occurred to you just how much you hated all of this until Peter was no longer around to make it easier to swallow. You didn’t have a single friend in this place, every person in your vicinity loyal to Steve above all. It was lonely and depressing in ways that were too painful to think about, and with the knowledge that you were so close to one more year around the sun, you found yourself wondering if you had the strength to do this until the end of your days.

You had never considered ending it all until Peter was gone.

With him around, you’d at least still had something to look forward to, something to put a smile on your face when you woke up in the morning. Now…you had nothing. Your days consisted of nothing but Steve and his every whim, and when you stopped to think about living out the rest of your life exactly like this, it overwhelmed you.

“Steve is starting to get impatient, Y/N.”

The sound of Nat’s voice accompanied by a knock on your bathroom door was enough to pull you from your depressing thoughts. With a sigh, you straightened your dress and swiftly joined her in your bedroom. She was focused on fixing her lipstick when your gaze met hers, and she closed her compact with a comforting smile.

“I was starting to think you’d taken a swim in there,” she teased, gently pulling you along. “You know how Steve gets when you keep him waiting.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, swallowing down what you were initially going to say.

“I’m sorry,” you evenly apologized, knowing that Steve could hear. “I just got lost in my head for a bit.”

You could feel the redhead’s eyes on you as she guided you towards the hall, and she let out a hum.

“You’ve been doing that a lot lately,” she mused. “Should I talk to Steve about having someone come and see you? You know how important it is that you’re healthy.”

You both knew that she wasn’t just referencing your physical health, and such a comment almost made you laugh. If any of them had genuinely cared about your mental health and happiness, then someone would’ve talked Steve out of turning Peter to ash. The bitterness was hard to swallow, but you managed, turning to look at her with a small smile.

“No, it’s nothing more than birthday musings.”

At the mention of the date just around the corner, her beautiful face lit up.

“Are you excited? One year older…”

While the powerful beings around you celebrated their own birthdays, it wasn’t the same nor nearly as exciting as physically aging and literally being one year closer to death. At least, that was what Peter had told you once. He’d made it known just how fascinated they all were by the subtle signs of aging, the smile lines that weren’t there before, the maturity in the face that wasn’t there before. Something about the fragility and tragedy of it all, he’d said.

How funny that he had met his end before you.

“As excited as I was last year,” you told her as she walked you down the hall.

That wasn’t entirely true. You were much more excited last year for reasons that were obvious to you, and this year, you couldn’t muster up anything beyond a dreaded anxiousness. There was nothing to be excited about in your opinion, but to make matters worse, you would swear that Nat seemed more excited this year than she was last year.

There was a twinkle in her eye whenever the topic came up, and whatever they had up their sleeve, you only wanted them to get it over with.

It was a cloudy and starless night when you both made it outside, Steve standing by the car with a slightly pinched look on his face. You said nothing as Natasha apologized to him for the delay, quickly joining Bucky before they both disappeared into the other car. You ignored the feel of his intense gaze as the driver opened the door for you both, Steve’s touch almost nonexistent as he guided you into the back seat.

This was the first time you would ever be leaving the grounds, and instead of feeling something akin to excitement, you only felt…numb. Something about a gathering every hundred years or so, and how lucky for you that the next one coincided with your time as Steve’s pet. It was another mansion full of more vampires who’d see you nothing more than Steve’s property.

There was nothing in you that looked forward to this night.

“We’re almost late because of you.”

Steve’s voice filled the car, the partition providing some privacy.

“I’m sorry,” you halfheartedly murmured. “I lost track of time.”

You could feel his eyes on you as you looked out of the tinted window, and your silent prayers that he’d leave you be for the duration of the ride went unanswered. Your heart sank when you felt his hand reach for yours, cold hand clasping with yours.

“Natasha has impeccable taste per usual. I hate when the dresses she picks out are better than anything I come up with,” he told you.

At that, your eyes fell to the black fabric, the sheer extravagance of it all, fingering the bow around your waist. Natasha enjoyed playing dress up with her human doll while Steve had a habit of wanting you to look like the piece of meat you were. It had sparked many an argument between them with the redhead always walking away a winner.

“I’d die before letting her know that though,” he hummed, tone mirthful, and with a deep breath, you threw him a polite smile.

It wasn’t lost on Steve, and so you shouldn’t have been surprised to hear him heave a sigh, letting you go.

“I understand that the technical age difference between us is monumental, but you are still an adult. This…habit of refusing to act like it as of late is getting old. Don’t you think…?”

You fought with yourself on whether or not to engage in this back and forth with him or not.

“I don’t understand what you mean, Steve,” you breathed, gaze still on the passing trees outside.

You sharply inhaled when your breathing was suddenly obstructed, Steve’s hand around your throat and only growing tighter by the second. Losing your cool for a moment, you reached up, grasping his arm and looking at him through wide eyes. His own baby blues were unreadable, pink lips pressed together as he studied you.

“You’re behaving like a child.”

“I haven’t-.”

“Do you think just because you’re not cursing my name that the whole coven can’t see you’re angry with me?”

Steve’s lips brushed your cheek as he leaned in, and when he loosened his hold ever so slightly, you knew that he actually wanted an answer.

“I’m not,” you forced out.

Steve hummed, tightening his hand a bit.

“You are…but that’s okay,” he quietly said, pulling away. “Let’s just get through tonight.”

He fixed the top of your dress as well as the choker around your throat.

“You will not embarrass me,” he continued, and you stared ahead as he stroked your cheek. “For your sake…because you know how much I hate it when you force my hand.”

You blinked, ignoring the sting behind your eyes as Steve leaned back in his seat, heaving a heavy sigh.

“She is quite the pretty thing, isn’t she?”

The smile on your face was tight, fingers around your drink tighter as the strange woman reached out to touch your chin. Nakia, if you remembered correctly. She was just as breathtaking as the rest, her dark eyes drinking you in as she talked to the woman next to her.

“I’d heard years ago that Steve had taken a new pet. I’m so glad you’re still alive so that I could meet you,” the other woman said, her dark hair contrasting with her fair skin. “He has such a temper, that one. Hardly a tolerance for anything.”

They chuckled amongst themselves, and you forced yourself to swallow down your disgust and disturbance at how casually they spoke of the death of innocent people before your time. Yes, you’d heard the odd comment here and there over the years of how you weren’t the first of Steve’s trinkets.

You were just the first to last this long.

Your oh so gracious owner was off mingling with the host of this soiree, a burly blond man with the deepest voice you’d ever heard. You recalled the way his multicolored eyes had appreciatively taken you in, nodding to himself and Steve as if he was congratulating the other man on a job well done. You really hated that it took Peter’s death to fully realize just how much you really detested all of this.

You felt like you were in hell.

…and the devil himself was fast approaching.

The women with you quieted at Steve’s advance, quietly slipping away after acknowledging him. You, however, were focused on the woman at his side. You’d only seen her once, and that was earlier in the night when you’d been introduced to her husband, Thor. They made an attractive couple, positive that the brunette’s natural beauty had only been enhanced after her transition.

“Y/N, you remember Jane.”

Steve hadn’t been happy with you most of the evening, and the slight warning in his blue gaze had your tight smile softening some.

“Of course, it’s lovely to meet you again,” you told her.

“You as well. I mentioned to Steve here that you must be so lonely with so few of your kind around, and he suggested we get to know one another better. He thought it might be good for you,” she gently replied.

She seemed kind enough, kinder than most you’d been around, but there was something in her smile that seemed…off. She and Steve shared one last look as he left you, and the woman with the kind eyes looped her arm with yours.

“Every century the neighboring covens get together to discuss their discretion and orders of succession and all that,” she eventually started as you both slowly made your way outside.

Where Steve’s estate was dark and imposing and stereotypical in every way, Thor’s mansion was much brighter and welcoming. There was a Norse quality about the architecture, and something in you—when combined with the origin of Thor’s name—wondered just how old the blond was. Jane paused in front of a happy statue, gazing up at it with a small smile.

“This is my first time too, and I don’t doubt that you find it as boring as I do,” she confessed, shocking you.

You frowned at her a bit, having not realized just how young she was in their years, and you blinked. Even Peter had been over a hundred, and you silently wondered when she’d been turned. You didn’t dare ask, both because it wasn’t your business and also because a good chunk of you couldn’t care less. However, your interest was piqued when she answered your silent question.

“I’ve been like this for maybe…seven years now?”

Your eyes widened at that, meeting her honey brown gaze.

“I think you’re the youngest I’ve ever met,” you told her, voicing your thoughts.

Her kindness and softness suddenly made a lot more sense. There was still so much humanity left in her, her human life still fresh in her spirit, her short years as a vampire unsuccessful in desensitizing her and leaving her void of empathy. So far, anyway. She tilted her head from side to side, seemingly mulling it over with a hum.

“Probably,” she agreed. “I’m definitely the youngest I know of…as of yet.”

She looked back to the statue at that, and something about that last comment made your chest ache. Only you didn’t know why.

“Thor made me,” she breathed, sounding happy about the fact. “He decided that he didn’t want to be without me, and I’d felt the same for some time at that point.”

The details that she was leaving out had your mind whirling, and she soon put you out of your misery.

“There was a time where I belonged to him just as you belong to Steve.”

She finally looked at you again as she told you this, and you were unable to hide your shock, lips parting.

“…what?”

It wasn’t unheard of, but it definitely wasn’t common either. Humans were pets, and pets were property, but let Natasha tell it, there had been the odd case of a human pet becoming a lover and eventually…a consort. An eternal companion.

“I see,” you eventually added, getting a hold of yourself. “Well…I suppose I’m happy for you.”

The way she studied you made you uncomfortable, and you found yourself playing with your hands.

“Thor was kind to me, always had been, and he treated me like nothing less than a princess.”

You didn’t really have a response to that. After all, how kind—how well could he really treat her—if he had been keeping her prisoner to feed off of for years? Jane certainly seemed happy enough, but you kept your thoughts to yourself on how you saw her situation as nothing more than a glorified victim. She’d fallen for her captor, not unheard of, and no less tragic just because she was like him, now.

“Steve is quite taken with you.”

That came out of nowhere to you, and you looked at her again. Again, there was something in her small smile that unnerved you, a glint in her eye that made your stomach twist. For the strangest reason, you felt like there was something you were missing, and you didn’t like it.

“After all, the rumor is he’s never kept a human this long before. I hear he doesn’t tolerate much,” she continued.

“That’s not untrue. I dare say I have another…one…maybe two years before he’s finally fed up with me,” you lightly teased although there was a hint of seriousness in your tone.

Deep down, you hoped that it was less.

Jane laughed, and your eyes met hers as she reached out to adjust your necklace.

“Silly girl,” she gently admonished. “I can’t foresee Steve ever being rid of you. He’s much too obsessed with you for that. Watches you like a hawk, that one does.”

You swallowed uncomfortably, stepping out of her reach a tad and watching as her hand fell.

“Well, he’ll have no choice someday. I am human, after all.”

Jane tilted her head, shoulder length brown hair kissing her skin as she studied you. There was a slight frown on her face as she dragged her gaze over you.

“For now.”

Those two simple words had your heart stuttering, and your face fell as you gave her your undivided attention.

“There’s quite an easy fix to ensure you’re at his side forever,” she reminded you, and it was then…

That you understood.

You took another step back from her, almost stumbling in your heels, and you couldn’t fix your mouth to form the words that your mind wanted to say. This entire conversation was stirring up thoughts you didn’t even want to entertain, didn’t even want to consider, because the thought was preposterous. Horrifying even, but why else?

Why else would Steve think it’d be good for the two of you to talk? Of all the new vampires in the world, why the one whose former master had made her like him so that she could be with him forever? Why her? You tried to push it down, but it assaulted your mind anyway, and you dazedly shook your head at her, apologizing before excusing yourself.

There was blood rushing in your ears, and you pressed your hand to your chest as you stumbled back inside, fighting to calm your heart for multiple reasons.

No.

Absolutely not.

You didn’t even want to think it, but it couldn’t be helped. Steve wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t, but as you repeated that to yourself, you wondered how true that was. Wasn’t it months ago that he’d killed the love of your life out of jealousy and some misguided belief that he loved you? Hadn’t he killed a vampire he’d known and had been intimate with for centuries for the same reasons?

Tears kissed your eyes as you stared at the floor, feeling just as cold as Steve did to the touch.

There had been a time when the prospect of eternal life called to you, back when the man you loved was till around. You’d only wanted to live forever if it were with him, and once he was out of the picture, all thoughts of that had ceased. You had never entertained the thought of becoming a vampire anyway, and especially not with Steve. Why would you?

You leaned against the wall, a few tears spilling over as you fought with yourself, telling yourself that you were just getting a head of yourself, that’s all. Jane’s own thoughts in regard to your mortality didn’t mean they were Steve’s. Maybe it was all in your head, a mere coincidence, but the refusal to believe otherwise didn’t prevent your legs from faltering, hand sliding along the wall as you struggled to keep yourself upright.

“Steve, she’ll be fine. Listen… She’s waking up, see?”

Sam’s voice seemed so loud in the otherwise quiet room, and you grimaced as your senses came back to you, greeted with none other than a headache. You really didn’t want to open your eyes, but pretending to be asleep in a room full of vampires had never and would never work. With reluctance, you peeled them open, staring up at a familiar ceiling.

You heard a deep exhale, and it wasn’t long before you were joined on the bed, a hand on your forehead.

You didn’t need to look over to know that it was Steve.

“…and you’re sure she’s alright?”

“No concussion or anything of the sort. Nothing to be concerned with either. It appears she just fainted, perhaps lightheaded or hungry.”

Dr. Banner’s voice was surprising to hear. It had been some time since you’d seen the dark-haired vampire, and you slowly looked over as he wrote something down on a clipboard. Sam was standing behind him while Natasha and Bucky sat on your couch, the redhead the picture of concern while her husband appeared as if he couldn’t care less.

“So, she’s been neglecting herself.”

Your heart dropped at the drop in Steve’s tone, and you hesitantly glanced up, finally looking at the blond and unsurprised to find his gaze already on you. He didn’t look happy, and you looked away, mentally preparing yourself for an earful.

“I wouldn’t say that. Humans are fragile, Steve, you know this. Any number of things could’ve caused her to feel faint, and seeing as no one was around to witness the moments prior, who is to say what really caused it. All that matters is she is healthy,” Dr. Banner argued.

You crossed your arms over your chest as they finished discussing you, and when Steve dismissed the other three after Dr. Banner’s departure, you sighed.

“Had you eaten?”

“Yes, Steve, I ate,” you assured him. “I just got lightheaded is all.”

You could feel his eyes on you, and you knew that he wouldn’t be looking away anytime soon, so you finally lifted your gaze again.

“I found you,” he confessed, jaw taut, and you almost wished he hadn’t.

There was no telling the thoughts in his head when he saw you lying there.

“I heard your heart beat faster than it ever had before…and then it slowed so suddenly I thought you were dead.”

“Well…I’m not, so…”

“You scared me.”

“Why?” you harshly asked, gaze accusatory as you narrowed your eyes at him. “I’m easily replaceable. If I die…I’m sure you can find another woman to kidnap.”

The blond harshly looked away at that, and you eyed him as he rested a hand on his hip.

“You say that so callously…like it wouldn’t hurt me to bury you,” he murmured, and your frown deepened.

“It shouldn’t. Who am I to you other than a warm body and a nightly cocktail?”

You jumped when he swiped a figurine off of your table. It had been a gift from him years ago, and you swallowed when his cold eyes met yours. Right. Let Steve tell it, he loved you, and that same thought that’d made you faint hours earlier threatened to overtake you again. You dismissively looked away from him, and considering how many times it had been pointed out to you tonight, you wondered what line you’d eventually cross that would push Steve to just…drain you dry.

“I’ve told you before Steve…you don’t know what love is,” you quietly said, staring at your sheets. “…and while I don’t doubt the worry you felt when you found me tonight, I do doubt that it had anything to do with love.”

You desperately wanted to ask him why he’d been so keen on you talking to Jane tonight. You wanted to ask him if he’d ever entertained the thought of turning you for himself, keeping you at his side forever and dragging out what should’ve been one miserable lifetime into infinite. You wanted to…but you were so terrified of the answer.

You were confident that Steve wouldn’t, but there was some small part of you that said otherwise, and the more you laid there, the bigger that part of you became. The voice became louder, whispering the unthinkable, and you turned over, quietly and politely asking Steve to leave you be. You were sure he wouldn’t drink from you tonight, but you wanted him gone, nonetheless.

…because if there was truth to your newfound fears…

You would slit your throat in a heartbeat.

Steve listened to you, albeit reluctantly, but not without nearing your bed and resting his hand on your forehead again. He stood there for some time, just standing over you and watching you, and you squeezed your eyes shut when he brushed his thumb over your skin. Your eyes burned when he leaned down, pressing his lips into your hair and deeply inhaling. It was too reminiscent of something he wasn’t, too much like a lover, and you only relaxed again when he was gone.

The morning of your birthday was greeted with the finest of foods and finest of gifts. No different than the years before, but all the more depressing. Last year, you’d eaten your breakfast with the excitement of seeing Peter afterwards. You had smiled at Natasha as she ran you a milk bath, playing with the rose petals because you knew that you’d be spending most of your day with Peter. His presence had made the grand fanfare of your party something meaningful instead of the conceited and egotistic brag of Steve that it actually was.

Today, however…

Today you had nothing and no one to look forward to.

You were polite as you opened gift after gift, thanking Natasha for the dress or Sam for the bracelet or Bucky for the wine. The last one was done with a barely hidden sneer. After all, the wine was more so a gift for Steve than for you, the saccharine drink given with the purpose of making your blood taste sweeter.

Nothing about this day was actually for you.

Every gift and every praise were done to exalt Steve.

You had to look your best at your party tonight because anything less, and you’d embarrass Steve. Everyone had to ooh at the pretty jewelry Steve’s pet wore. Everyone had to aah at the gorgeous dress Steve’s pet wore. Everyone had to see how lavishly he spoiled you, how well he looked after you, how wonderful a master he was.

It made you sick.

“It might get old after some time, but it really is so exciting to celebrate an actual birthday,” Natasha told you as she dragged the small brush over your lips. “It’s so miniscule or even non existent with human eyes, I’m sure, but you do look a whole year older.”

“I feel ten years older,” you half joked.

She chuckled at the comment, either unaware or completely ignoring the implication that you felt so aged after Peter’s death.

“A mortal life is really so fleeting. A blink of an eye to us,” she mused with a small frown. “I swear, it was just yesterday that you were first brought here.”

The redhead paused, looking down at you with a wistful gaze.

“So young…so terrified…”

She hummed, continuing with her work.

You tried not to think of those first few months you were here. They were too painful, to be honest. After all, what was there to look back on but the loss of your best friend by the very same man you were forced to be around all the time? The years gone by had done nothing to lessen the anger and hurt every time you looked at Bucky.

An average day to him was one of the worst of your life.

When Natasha felt satisfied enough with you, she smiled, brushing her hand along your cheek.

“You look so radiant…like a birthday girl,” she praised. “Steve will be pleased.”

Your face fell some at that, reminded that once again, a compliment for you was never actually for you.

Like last year, the manor was full of vampires with the occasional human pet tagging along. Unlike last year though, there were way more people in attendance. You even caught sight of Thor and Jane, and you thought it was ironically fitting that the one year full of more extravagance and fanfare than the others was the one year you just wanted to drop dead.

Natasha was right, of course.

Steve was more than pleased with your look for the night, and he gave her a thankful nod as he took your hand. His own was gentle in yours, and you pointedly ignored the way he brushed his thumb over the back of it. Steve looked as impeccable as he always did, and your gaze passed over him as you looked around the room.

“You look beautiful tonight.”

You took a deep breath before looking at him with the perfect smile.

“Thank you, Steve.”

He stared into your eyes for a few moments before his own smile grew, satisfaction crossing his features at your dedication to be on your best behavior. When his small smile shifted into a small smirk, you were tempted to be defiant just for the hell of it.

He brought your hand to his lips as he walked through the room, leading you to the head table.

You spent so much of the night repeating empty thanks to faces both familiar and those not. You were positive not a single compliment was genuine, every one accompanied with another compliment to Steve. She looks as radiant as always. You take such good care of her. She’s the perfect reflection of you. It was dehumanizing in a way you couldn’t even articulate, and you thought that you’d be used to it after years, but again…

With Peter not around to soften the blow…

When you danced with Steve, you didn’t look at him. You kept your gaze on the guests around you, giving the impression of a thankful birthday girl when in actuality, you couldn’t really stomach the sight of Steve. An entire day that should’ve been dedicated to you being dedicated to him in a roundabout way instead was too disheartening.

“You look better,” he whispered in your ear. “You heart sounds strong too.”

You swallowed a sigh, your smile falling some.

“If I didn’t…would that stop you from coming to me tonight and doing what you’ve wanted to do for days?”

“Didn’t it stop me already?”

You didn’t respond to that, only sending Natasha a forced smile when you caught her eye. Steve’s hands fell to your waist, and he lifted you a tad as he spun you, sharp teeth winking at you as he grinned.

“It’s your birthday, my love…” your heart dropped at that. “Smile and be happy.”

You were still looking at him strangely when he led you back to the table, wondering where on earth such a term of endearment had come from. You pushed it away when he left you there, Natasha immediately pulling you into conversation. It was hard to focus, the feel of Steve’s hand in yours and the sound of his voice in your ear on your mind.

My love?

You wondered if centuries on this earth could drive a vampire mad. Nothing about what you and Steve had was loving, and it seemed that no matter how many times you pointed that out to him, he only became more deluded. It was like trying to get through a brick wall, and when the time came for Steve to give you his gift, you only wanted this night to be over.

“Y/N has been a part of this coven for years, now,” Steve said, standing beside you as you sat. “Something both surprising to others and myself…but I’ve come to find great comfort at the sight of her face every day.”

You looked up at him in wonder, thinking to yourself that his birthday speech from last year was far less intimate and more appreciative of the blood you unwillingly provided him a few times a week. You watched as he opened the jewelry box you’d seen him fiddle with all evening. The light glinted off of the necklace.

The diamonds were plentiful, but what caught your eye—and what was probably meant to—was the green stone at the center of it. Everything Steve had ever given you was excessive in some way, but this was different. It didn’t look like something passed down through the generations or some nice ring to compliment your fingers.

This was a necklace bought with intention.

You felt uneasy as Steve guided you to stand, fingers lingering on yours a bit before moving behind you. You looked everywhere and nowhere all at once, afraid to catch anyone’s eye. You were used to the attention, especially on this day, but you couldn’t stop the heavy feeling in your chest from growing. The necklace was cool against your skin, and you shuddered as it pressed into your throat with the tightening of Steve’s hand.

You swallowed, tempted to reach up when he finally loosened his hold, hooking it closed and adjusting it to his liking.

“You deserve nothing but the best on your birthday, but this necklace is fit for a queen,” Steve said, speaking to you now. “A mistress of the house.”

You slowly turned to look at him at that, face falling. Steve reached out, touching your face, and you couldn’t ignore the way your heart pounded in your chest. Your eyes burned at the meaning behind his words, telling yourself that it wasn’t what you thought.

“I’ve ruled this coven by myself for centuries…”

“Steve…”

“…and you’ve only been by my side for a few short years of that, but I intend to rule centuries more…with you right next to me.”

Your hands shook, and you realized that the loud noise in your ears wasn’t the rush of your blood or even your loud heartbeat, but instead the awed excitement of all the vampires before you. Steve took your hand, pulling you closer, and in your confusion, you stumbled towards him.

“As my wife…my eternal lover…my consort.”

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