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shaisuki · 6 months ago

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𝗟𝗢𝗢𝗦𝗘 𝗘𝗡𝗗𝗦

ft. bully! gojo satoru and geto suguru

content warnings college au, heavy bullying, gaslighting, noncon, dubcon, implied sexual assault, allusions to depression/suicide, alcohol consumption, drinking, implied drugging, fatphobia, overdosing, naoya zen'in is an asshole, humiliation, threats, minor oc character. dead dove do not eat.

notes this might come as disappointing since some of you wanting revenge what this two idiots had done to reader. their are some matters that i think is too complicated and impossible so i came with this way as the breaking point where reader starts to retaliate/plan her revenge. will get to it later and to that anon, who asked for the revenge, i will get once i start to finish this one up. please read the warnings, i don't want someone bitching in the comments telling me that the contents above is uncool. it truly is not cool. that's why it have warnings. it is on a fictional context. do read the warnings before continuing. also do let me know of what you think of this chapter.

read part one, here. two here.

SERIES MASTERLIST

synopsis you let them take and take what they can from you. you were a nobody after all but everybody have their breaking point.

the world is a blur to you. colors of red and blue dances in your vision while voices whispers to you. what's happening? you can't move. it's like your body were made of lead. you can't understand what they were saying. multiple faces stares at you, are you dead? is this what you see when people surround you while they lower your casket. is it? you hope it was, cause you didn't plan on living anymore. there's nothing worth moving forward and the world around you turns black.

there's a beep and then silence. you hear before you see and when you opened your eyes, all you can see is a bright light above you. it took you minutes to adjust your vision and realize where you are. you're in a hospital. laying on a bed and you started to get irritated at your oxygen mask. you tug at it. getting frustrated why it keeps coming back at you before someone put their hand on it. completely removing it and there you breath. your sight darted to the hand who helped you until your sight travels to his arms and then to his face. a brief recognition flashes through you.

“nanami?” you call his name unsure but you know it was definitely him. it was hard to mistake him for someone. there's his blonde hair, neatly parted. his pristine beige sweater paired a dark colored trouser, not a crinkle in sight and his signature silver watch in his wrist. you met him once at the literature club and decided you were going to be there too not until it changed due to some circumstances. his lips parted but before he can speak, a cheery voice interrupted him.

“she's awake!?” said haibara, you also knew him since he and nanami were always together. seeing your confused state, his voice died down. “what happened?” you asked them and they exchanged looks before haibara answers you.

“we found you passed out in the lawn. thought you were drunk but you weren't breathing.” haibara's voice was soft while he slowly breaks down the reason why you ended up here.

a doctor comes inside to your room before haibara can finish. you took note of her pristine white coat with her surname embroidered on it. clicking her pen and whipping out her clipboard she pulled out of nowhere. you were distracted by it. the doctor's eyes is on you now and you began to frown.

the doctor coughs clearing her throat before speaking. “hello, ms. (y/n). i'm glad you're awake now.” noticing your confused expression she pauses began answering the question. “to answer your question you were unconscious for two days and is brought for possible assault. we need your con—”

“no!”

“ms. it would help for you t—”

“you heard me!? i said no!” you scream at the doctor and your tears appeared in your eyes. you didn't realize you were screaming. nanami and haibara stand there in silence but the looks on their face said otherwise. concern painted in their faces and the doctor bows before leaving. looking at the men inside in your room to call her if you need anything.

cause if they would test you, they would find the remains of their sperm inside you and then report? who will believe you? it would be buried like the case of another girls like you who were too afraid nor fight their abusers. you don't find the point of that. they would twist the words out of you. it was easy to believe than you.

you curled up in bed and did the next thing you can. cry. now, you're in here and the events before this plays in your head in repeat.

“f-fuck”

satoru curses out while suguru bites your ear. your body like jello as they spilled their load for the nth that day. both of them lowered your body after fucking your brains out. warm up, they say. you shiver as you feel their cum running down your thighs. feeling disgusted as it began to stick after being exposed to the air. you grab the wipes but suguru stopped you, grabbing it from your hands and cleaning you up. fixing your skirt in the meantime.

“worth every penny.” suguru mutters. staring at the new clothes they bought for you. a baby blue corseted puff-sleeved, square neck top matched with a black skirt that rests on your mid thigh is what they forced you to wear. it feels tight. intentionally buying it one size smaller than you usually wore and it more feel you like a stuffed sausage rather a comfortable piece of clothing. you can't say no to what they wanted. you're a bit of grateful that they allowed you to wear your white sneakers rather than those kitten heels that would put your feet in blisters.

satoru's fingers brushes through the expanse of your exposed flesh. playing with the small bow in your top. sighing, “suguru, can we have more with (y/n)-chan?” his best friend chuckles at him. “idiot, we're already running late, after that we can.” satoru pouts. “tch, party pooper.” he ignores gojo and moves his attention to you.

“smile, this is your first real party. you're going to enjoy this.” suguru lifts your chin up with his finger and you obediently nodded. “ditch and you know what will happen.” he warns.

it was a bad idea. the moment you stood in the front door. the party was already in motion. you can hear the people inside shouting profanities and booming music mixed with already drunk frat members and student bodies. this was never really your crowd and when you were shoved inside with gojo and geto you were done and you already felt like crying. you look at the duo in front of you. they were already engaged in conversation with the other people here.

“gojo, you son of a bitch. you fucking came.” a guy hollered in the side and you see more of his features as he gets nearer. a snarl in his face with multiple piercings in his ear. a hair dyed blonde with green accents.

“ah, zen’in. wouldn't missed this just i could wipe that smirk off your face.” gojo mocks him and before the guy whom gojo called zen’in darts his sight to you. he raises a brow. “you two in fat bitches now?” pointing at you with hand cupping a plastic cup. gojo scoffs. “none of your business, zen'in.” glaring at him but he can't see that gojo's looking at him with dark glasses in the way. “then you two wouldn't mind me using her.” he suggested and suguru gaze darkens at him. “fuck off, naoya.” almost growling at naoya and the latter raises his hand in mock defeat before finding shit he could entertain himself with.

suguru scowls after naoya left, he looks at you like you just turned his mood sour. “you're an embarrassment.” he says and you bit your lip. keeping the tears at bay and you don't really want to embarrass yourself more at this party. “hey, hey suguru.” gojo taps his shoulder. “let loose, don't naoya get to you.” satoru glances at you. his blue eyes peering in his glasses. “you're right.” his stare cold at you. “find a seat, (y/n). you're embarrassing us now with you around.” you nod and you find yourself in a vacant corner. near to those already wasted or just plain chilling in the couch in front of you.

what did you expect? that were all sex talk or when they're in good mood. all those praise and compliments are just enough to feel you good about yourself for a bit and then they'll come destroying it. you stare at the view through the window. the night's particularly beautiful and peaceful except the place you're in and you're already missing the comfort of your bed.

you take a sip from your cup. a girl gave it you earlier saying that it's a special concoction that's only made at this parties. unsure you took it. not wanting to show ungratefulness to someone whose only been polite to you and she seems nice. you cringe slightly at the taste and the burning of the liquid as it flows down your throat. coughing you bring down the cup, not used to drinking.

your first time being a party, your eyes wander how your peers lost their selves in the influence of alcohol. some where dancing and mingling. talking like they were friends and you caught of others taking their business upstairs. you were kind of jealous how everyone are the life of the party and you sit here in your misery. you continue to observe everyone and you caught gojo. it's impossible to miss his tall stature and his white hair standing in the crowd. a petite woman is linked to him. her thin arms are wrapped around his neck and it was clear what they were doing. there they stood in the crowd. kissing.

“satoru.” gojo was taking a swig of his drink when a girl approached him. calling his name like they were lovers but it was more like an ex-fling. never had a relationship with her. she was only a temporary fun. “ah, sar—ah, sayuri.” he almost curses at himself. sayuri playfully pouts at him and there it is, the batting of eyelashes. “that's mean, satoru. you already forgot me.” her lips puckers before placing a hand in his chest. if this was a another party of gojo and he really liked this girl. he would have taken her upstairs. he caught you in the corner. you were like a child in awe at the people in this house. gojo almost chuckles at your cute antics but suppressed it and then a cruel idea pops in his mind. “missed me?” he asks sayuri and there was no answer needed as he crashes his lips to sayuri. his sight never leaving yours and when you caught him. he watch as your eyes widens, you lower your head in embarrassment before chugging that drink in your cup in one swig. he smirks in the kiss as he watches you wiped your tears away. he always liked making you cry.

you should have ditched this stupid party, even it means getting punished by those again. you were hurt. they always like to torture you. listen as they tell you how worthless and unlovable you are while they keep girls who are clearly not you by their side. those girls were perfectly fit for them to be seen in public and you were there for them to humiliate you. with your head lowered, you stifled a sob. wiping your tears with your hands shaking. they kept flowing and you kept messily wiping them and with that you slowly made your way outside. discreetly making your way through the door and you almost laugh. you were a nobody. you're not made for pretty things and this goddamn outfit you wore only added to your misery. you never felt beautiful and it looks ugly on you. wrapped a sausage with a different and it will still look the same.

no one noticed you leaving except for suguru's watchful gaze.

suguru finds his friend making out with a girl he definitely doesn't remember. suguru slaps his back and satoru broke the kiss. wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and ignores the girl he was just making out seconds ago. suguru points the door where you left earlier. you're really looking for trouble and with that they left following you.

sayuri was stunned being shoved aside again. she was angry. how the fuck did you get those two's attention especially gojo's? she's beautiful. she's thin. academically excelling and you, a fat nobody bitch easily made those two fall for you. she knows they were just playing at you and sayuri could take it but being shoved again by satoru isn't what she expected tonight. she's going to be satoru's bride. it was decided from the start and satoru knows it. their fathers friends since their college days had made a decision to marry their son and daughter before they were even born and she did everything she can just to have satoru's attention but why can't she even get to look at her without her trying. it's your fault. it's your fucking fault! you deserve to die. you're fucking stupid for accepting that drink like you're a fucking saint and now, maybe you'll rethink your choices of making those your own and satoru will only have his eyes for her and only her.

weird. why are your hands sweating? it's cold. freezing cold. you know this temperature at night is normal but why are you freezing cold. hah, your vision's starting to get funny too. where there always stars in the sky? ahh, i want to go home. i wonder if akira's still awake. i didn't told her that i was going away tonight. my eyes hurt. you were crying. this was your thoughts as you walked away.

it was to easy to catch you with their long strides. satoru grabs your flabby arm angrily. “we told you, you don't leave without us. do you really want to get punished, (y/n)-chan?” his voice snarky as he digs his nails in your arms. it hurts. it really must really hurt but you're suddenly numb to feel anything. you just stare at him in confusion and then you hear voices. they were calling them to get back.

gojo scowls at them. your knees buckled and you sat in the ground. geto tsked. “we're going back to you later.” he says and they left you there and there were loud cheers. you lay there in the ground. numb and your vision fades away.

you blinked as you stare in the nothingness. that's what you last remembered. they left you there and you hoped you died. you can't take another bullshit of what they put you through. the tears continuously flows from your eyes and your blanket is wet with tears. haibara puts a comforting hand in your shoulder and you bursted crying again. this was the real kindness you felt since the accident. they didn't blame you. they only stayed and made sure you were resting enough. stranger they maybe or an acquaintance. you would never forget this kindness from them.

days. nights. you stayed in the hospital until you were cleared. you made nothing of what happened to you. putting it in the records as an allergic reaction in which the hospital agreed. just like that even when you're in the brink of death of what happened to you. if you took the procedure for assault. they would be guilty but it was days old now and bruises are left in your skin as nothing but reminders of the humiliation of what they did to you.

for now, you're going to cry. cry until there's nothing left to cry for.

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kingtomura · 7 months ago

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Cat and mouse

synopsis: Your ex boyfriend has some nerve texting you at three in the morning — an entire week after the disaster breakup you had. You should really go over there and give him a piece of your mind. Well, you know what they say about famous last words. wc: 6.1k | crossposted to ao3 content: tomura shigaraki x female reader, no quirks au, toxic tomura, reader is kinda toxic too tbh, unhealthy relationships, breaking up and making up, vaginal fingering, overstim, breeding kink, piv, dubcon creampie, degredation, threats of baby trapping, hurt/comfort, sweet at the end idc

You’ve told your friends time and time again to stay out of your business. They never listen.

“Oh my god, Kirishima? Is he even twenty yet?” You drag as you watch your friend flip through several pictures of the redheaded boy like he was a member of the bachelor.

She smiles, scrolling her phone for more options, “no, but he will be in a couple of months!”

“No!” Your words are sharp. You love Mina but god, you don’t want her to play matchmaker with you. It’s not like you’re a charity case or something.

She gasps and you swear you could see the lightbulb go off above her head. “What about Denki? He’s fun!”

You groan, falling back onto the bed and covering your eyes with your arm. “Mina.”

“Hey, just give her a break okay? It’s only been about a week.” Your saving grace Yaoyorozu speaks up and it’s nice to finally have someone on your side.

“Thank you.”

“Seriously? So we’re just going to sit around and watch you mope about all day?” Mina questions, irritation clear in her voice and it grates your ears.

“Preferably, yes! Just let me be.” You roll over, face officially shoved into your pillow. It’s been a rough couple of days and you haven’t gotten a single call or text from Tomura. Not that you should be expecting one. You broke up with him after all.

It’s just.. this time feels different. Usually there’s more arguing and he’s fighting for you to stay around, but this time there was nothing. No quips, no insults, just “fine, get out then.”

That hurt the most.

You had no idea what he was up to.

Maybe he was as depressed as you were.

Maybe he’s found someone else.

The thought makes you stop in your tracks. The idea of Tomura, your tomura with someone else is enough to make you nauseous.

You jump to your feet and rush to the bathroom, locking yourself in and falling to your knees.

God, what if that was why it was so easy?

You pull out your phone, the device lighting up and unlocking with your facial id.

Tomura doesn’t use social media much but you could still check to see if he’d blocked you.

To your surprise, he hadn’t.

He hasn't posted anything either and there’s no new person in his followers.

You feel yourself exhale a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. No change is a good thing.

There’s knocking on the door and you thank the stars you locked it. Your friends would judge you so hard if they saw you lurking through your ex’s social media.

“Hey, are you okay in there?” It’s your saving grace Yaoyorozu again and you almost feel bad for shutting her out.

“Yeah, I’m sorry if it feels like I pressured you! I’ll give you some space.” Mina's regretful voice calls and it makes your heart clench. You know she means well but she just doesn’t understand. None of them do.

Whether you want to admit it or not, you love Tomura.

Yes, you argue and yes, you fight, but he just gets you. He’s so cynical, but so caring — in his own special way. Too bad he was such an asshole. The argument wasn’t even supposed to go that far.

There are tears beginning to blur your vision and you wipe them away, willing the feelings down and standing to your feet.

If he wanted you to stay away, then fine. You could do that.

You splash cool water onto your face and take a breath, steeling yourself and getting ready to face your friend once more. It was Saturday and they were convinced you needed a fun girl’s night.

It takes a lot to refrain from cringing at the phrase, but you believe they held some truth with the idea. You definitely didn’t want to be alone right now.

You unlock the bathroom door, meeting Mina and Yaoyorozu’s worried expressions with a smile.

“We should probably get ready now, huh?”

Mina’s eyes light up, smile blinding and excitement contagious.

“Yes! Jirou and the others are here now.” She starts to clap, excitement buzzing around her, “Girl’s night is going to be amazing!”

—-

Girl’s night was a bust.

The moment everyone arrived the apartment quickly filled with chaos. Noisy and busy, it was all giving you a headache. Until someone decided it would be a good idea to pregame before going out.

In preparation for the night your friend’s insisted that you get dolled up, hair makeup and skimpy clothes you wouldn’t look twice at on any normal day.

You had to admit it made you a little more excited to get out and at least feel like your world isn't crashing around you. It was supposed to be a fun little night out. Somehow one drink turned into two, which turned into three which turned into Mina swearing she could beat everyone in a dance battle.

The group only got more riled up as everyone indulged in this silly challenge.

One challenge leads to another, which leads to more drinking, which then ends in everyone being too drunk to function and knocking out — all laid out in odd places around your living room floor and couch.

The groggy feeling came first, your arms radiating in dull pain as you vaguely recalled trying to beat Mina in a contest of who could do the most push ups. It sure as hell wasn't you, but the drunk version of you thought it was possible to move mountains.

You blink a few times, trying to will your eyes to rapidly adjust to the darkness of the room and find out what this odd buzzing noise beside you had been. Turning over, you find your phone, squinting as the too bright screen lights up your face and you see that it is three a.m.

You had fallen asleep with everyone else.

The phone buzzes again, lighting up and you have to squint further to read the contact name.

Tomura.

Your eyes widen as you scan over the three texts he’s sent you.

Wasting no time, you rush to your feet and into the bathroom so you can look at your phone without the chance of prying eyes overlooking your shoulder. Even though they were probably going to be out until late morning.

Tomura’s messages were short, no paragraphs, no essays but three different messages sent in succession.

When are you coming to get your shit?

I’m tired of waiting.

And I’m deleting our farm btw.

The first two messages don’t get much of a reaction from you, especially since it’s three a.m and he knows you’re usually asleep around this time.

But the third message…

Your Stardew Valley farm that you’ve had and worked on together for almost two years being put on the line and threatened? What the fuck was his problem?

This farm was a constant in your relationship. Throughout the ups and downs and back and forths. You were sure that hell would freeze over before you both would give up that progress. But here he is, threatening you while you would have been asleep. What an asshole.

Your feet are moving before your brain can stop them and you make your way to the front door. Since your friends were all passed out it would be easy to sneak over to Shigaraki’s place, give him a piece of your mind and then sneak back. In and out, quick and easy.

Your decision is made and you grab your coat, deciding to just go over there as you are. You hadn’t changed out of your outfit that was supposed to be for the night out, but it didn’t matter. You only needed to get over there and get there fast.

Once you arrive at Tomura’s doorstep you waste no time knocking. It’s around three in the morning so he should still very much be awake.

There's a chill in the air as you wait for his answer and you wrap your jacket closer to your body. A rumble of thunder caught your attention and it's then you notice the rain clouds rolling in. You knew it would only be a matter of time before the bottom of the sky falls out and rain drenches everything. You were on borrowed time if you wanted to make it back before then.

After what feels like forever the door finally opens, revealing a very cozy pajama-clad Tomura, who seemed a little too pleased for his own good — if that sly smile he was doing a bad job at hiding was anything to go by.

You don't give him a chance to greet you or say anything for that matter, stopping his words in their tracks as you cut him off. “What do you want?”

He doesn’t bother hiding his smirk now, the expression making your fists clench and your anger boil. “What do I want? You’re at my door, in front of my apartment.” He scoffs, clearly getting the exact reaction he had wanted from you, “I should be asking what do you want?”

Caught like a deer in headlights. Whatever, you don't let that stop you as you pull out your phone to show him his text. “You sent this, I know you’re bluffing. What do you want?”

Tomura shrugs, leaning against his door frame and giving you a pleased look. Expression relaxed and content. Not a care in the world. “To talk.”

“Well, I'm here now, so let’s talk.” You spit, crossing your arms and waiting for whatever else he would throw at you.

“Sure, but you should come in first.” He starts, looking up towards the darkened sky, confirming his assessment. “It’s gonna rain soon, you know.”

Of course you knew that.

You just didn’t want to give him more time than you had. But you agree and go in, ignoring the fighting feeling in the back of your mind screaming at you to turn away and hightail it out of there.

Tomura’s home is the exact way it was the day you left, give or take a few more containers of takeout littered around the place. You have half a mind to scold him about it, but quickly remember that it isn’t your place to do that anymore.

So instead you stay quiet, following him into the apartment and into the living room. Opting to stand as he sat, and resisted the urge to get comfortable.

“So, what do you want to talk about?” You try, done watching him pick up a controller and boot up a video game. Seriously?

Your patience was wearing thin now as you watched him ignore you to play some stupid game. You try calling to him again, knowing this was probably a waste of your time and groans.

“I was in the middle of something before you got here. Let me finish and we’ll talk.” It's flippant the way he waves you off and continues the game. The lack of care only hurting your feelings further and making you realize this may have all been a big mistake on your part.

You shouldn’t be at your ex boyfriend’s house being ignored. You should be at your house getting drunk and hanging out with your best friends. There was no reason to stay somewhere you’re obviously not valued.

It’s a simple choice when you put it into perspective.

But things are always easier said than done.

You sigh, the air puffing out your cheeks, a bad habit you had when angry, and walk right in front of Tomura’s TV. There was more satisfaction in making him lose the game and then announcing your departure than just leaving quietly.

He cranes his neck to see around you, but it doesn’t work, finally giving up as his character inevitably dies. “What!?”

“I’m leaving!” You announced, turning on your heel and heading towards the front door.

“You had to make me lose first? I said I was almost done!” He spat back, rising from the couch to follow you.

You shrug, “I don’t care. Why invite me in if you’re just going to ignore me?”

“Didn’t think you had the patience of a child.'' Tomura stands in front of you, cutting through your path and stopping you in your tracks.

It's almost comical the way he insults you. “Okay pot, meet kettle.” You try to brush past him, but he side steps with you.

“What are you dressed like that for anyway? Did you go out tonight or something?”

“No!” You deny, a little louder than intended and then pause. “But it’s none of your business what I do anyway.”

Tomura hums at this, taking the words in and running them through his mind as he gives you a once over, eyes scanning from the too-tight shirt you wore — showing a generous amount of cleavage, down to your mini skirt that left little to the imagination.

“Could've fooled me.”

“What do you mean by that?” You hate when he gives you cryptic answers, like it’s impossible to pry into his mind to see what he was thinking at the moment.

“You knew you were coming to see me so I dont get why you're wearing that skimpy shit. Unless you wanted me to check you out.”

“Not everything is about you, Tomura. Maybe I just wanted to dress up and look nice.”

“Bullshit—”

“God, Tomura you always fucking do this!” You yell, walking right up into his face. The excitement in his scarlet eyes sends a chill up your spin, but you can’t back down.

He gets closer, matching your tone and you can still see the grin he’s trying to hide. It makes you see red. “Do what? Tell you the truth? You know I’m not wrong.”

“Yeah, you think you know everything, but you don’t. I’m dressed up because I want to be, not because of you.” You’re insisting at this point, frustration threatening to tip over and spill out into the form of another pointless argument. Why did you think you could actually come over and have a decent conversation with him?

Tomura is a master at getting under your skin and hitting where it hurts. In all of your arguments he’s never really pulled out the big shots but you wouldn’t put it past him to do so now.

“Oh, so you come over to my place dressed like a slut and you expect me to believe you don’t have some hidden motive?”

And there it is.

Your last straw. He could be so egotistical and mean — you’ve had it.

You regret it the moment you do it, but your body moves before your brain can process your actions. You push Tomura. Hard.

He doesn’t fall back far but you know it’s enough to piss him off. And he’s never been one to hold anything back, so he shoves you back and your back hits the wall.

Tomura has you pinned before you know it and there’s a thrill that runs through your body in a way you know you shouldn’t be feeling. Your knees feel weak for reasons that are not related to fear and your panties were gradually becoming more wet.

His voice is low and his eyes are narrowed as he pins you against the wall, pressing your cheeks together with his other hand. “You’re really starting to piss me off.”

You have to bite back a smile, knowing this has taken a turn and you aren’t strong enough to stop where it’s going. Not that you would want to.

“Oh yeah? If I piss you off so badly then why are you hard?”

He doesn’t look down. He can feel his own arousal just as well as you can while it’s pressed against your abdomen.

Tomura pushes off of you — maintaining some distance as he turns away.

“You’re fucking annoying.”

“Sure am.” You supply, chipper and certain as you trail behind him.

He’s walking further into the apartment, and you follow. Legs moving on their own accord as you go further into the lion's den, exchanging quips and insults. You jab your finger into his shoulder, bothered by the way he continues to ignore you, it's a pathetic attempt at catching his attention and it works. Kind of.

The only response being him slapping your hand away with a glare and muttering a soft fuck off as he walked on.

You both went back and forth. Like the sun and moon, you just can’t stay away from each other.

It was how these things usually went between you and Tomura. He would start up, make a petty argument and you would never back down. Tomura is someone who was used to getting his way and others simply did what he said with no objections.

But that was not how you were.

And he loved it.

You knew by the way he would get that devious glimmer in his eye when you would challenge a point, starting up a debate. Sometimes they were heated enough to make you both break up. It never lasted more than a few days. A week being the longest.

Push and pull.

Tomura made his way past you again, ignoring your calls about how you hate being ignored. At this point you’re sure he’s doing it on purpose to rile you up more but you can’t help but take the bait. You grab his shoulder, forcing him to turn around and face you as you point a finger in his face.

“Stop walking away from me!”

He grabs your wrist and pulls you closer, making you stumble on your feet and almost lose balance. You were so close you could feel the heat from his body and smell the fresh linen scent of his shirt. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

You snatch your wrist away from him, tension between you two growing hotter by the second as the space between you got thinner.

“What are you going to do about it?”

The narrowing of his eyes only made your grin grow wider as you watched the gears turn in his head as he thought about just how many things he would do about it. All of it enticed you, so you beat him to the punch.

You reach forward again, fully intending to shove his shoulder again for another reaction, another glare, maybe even more words, but he stops you. It was fast, the way you both tumbled through the hallway as Tomura crashed his lips to yours. The relief of finally feeling his lips again meshed with the excitement of how rough he was with you.

You lose yourself in the kiss, welcoming him in with open arms as you vaguely register the dark walls of his room and posters plastered along the walls in your scuffle.

It was exciting, probably the best part of breaking up and making up. At this point you think the whole point of falling apart is coming back together again. An endless cycle where the reward is worth the punishment.

Cat and mouse.

You end up on top of him, straddling his hips while your smug smile beams down at him. Tomura gives you an unamused look in return, yet the way his hands rested on your thighs gave away the ill hidden interest. It was all the encouragement you needed as you leaned down, hovering above him with both hands on his chest.

“Not so tough now, are you?”

It’s bait. You know it’s bait, he knows it’s bait, but he takes it anyway — the way you knew he would.

Tomura wastes no time flipping the both of you over, quickly reversing your positions as he settled himself between your legs. It’s dangerous the way his actions riled you up further, and you have to bite your lip to keep the smile from betraying your false anger. You couldn’t let him know how excited you were to be back in his bed.

He presses your cheeks together and rocks your head left to right, tone mocking and eyes wild with fever, “Oh, look who’s become a firecracker all of the sudden. Where did that flame come from, huh?”

You want to respond, but Tomura beats you to it, releasing your cheeks and pointing a nimble finger against your forehead, “Don’t be dumb.”

His eyes trail from yours and then down to your lips, then finally down to your exposed cleavage. The movement was swift as he cupped one of your breasts in his hand and dipped down, claiming your lips again. It was softer than the first time but not by much, especially not when he matched his pace by grinding his clothed erection into you, making you moan at the contact.

Your skirt was so short and it made you feel even more exposed than you already were. Tomura had easy access to you and the thin fabric of your panties made everything feel so much closer.

You moan at the contact, swiping your tongue against Tomura’s bottom lip and wasting no time deepening the kiss as you pull him closer. You needed more and you needed it as soon as possible.

Tomura pulled the low cut front of your shirt down, easily exposing your breasts from the confines of the shirt and massaged them, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles against your nipples and making you cry out from the sensitivity.

He pulls away from you, eyes gazing into yours and you swore in that moment he put you in a trance. Tomura’s ruby red gaze always left you mesmerized and you can’t help the whimper that leaves your lips, brows furrowed and eyes wanting, “Please.”

“Please what?” And he’s not taunting you, he’s not mocking you. His eyes are soft as he brings a hand to your cheek. “Tell me what you want.”

“You.” Fuck, you’ve missed him. “I just want you.”

There’s a hint of a smile on his face as he strokes your cheek, soft look in his eyes making your heart flutter, and then it’s gone. Replaced by a hardened gaze as he moves to remove your shirt and bra, fully exposing you to his hungry eyes, and then moves to remove your short skirt.

His hands hover there for a moment, debating whether or not he should keep it on and fuck you in it, but then decides against the idea and pulls it off, taking your soaked panties down with it as well.

The air in the room feels cool against your skin as you shiver in anticipation.

“Fuck,” Tomura whispers, now eye level with your cunt. You gasp as he runs two fingers between your wet folds and holds the digits up to show you. Syrupy clear slick clung to them, slowly trailing down as Tomura rose back up, eye level with you once more.

“You’re so wet…” He murmured, bringing the digits to your mouth and you opened, taking them into your mouth and tasting yourself. You kept eye contact as you watched his eyes widen in delight — Tomura loved it when you put on a show for him.

There’s another moment of Tomura pressing against your tongue with his fingers and then he pulls them out, opting for a kiss in exchange, his tongue dipping into your mouth and groaning as he could taste what’s left of your slick on you as well.

The pleasant feeling and linguid action of your movements made your shoulders relax as you practically melted into his soft bed, the feeling of his body above yours bringing you mountains of comfort. It was a distraction, of course.

You felt the same two of Tomura’s fingers prod at your slick entrance before pressing in fully and all the way down to the knuckle. The stretch was intense but the pressure was euphoric, making you squeeze your eyes shut and grip him closer.

He didn’t make you wait long as he pumped his fingers, quickly finding that sensitive spot so deep inside of you that only he could pinpoint and brushing against it over and over.

The feeling was so good it made you pull away from the kiss to breathe, thighs twitching and toes curling in pleasure. You wouldn’t last long like this.

“Tomura, fuck..!” You moaned, drowning in ecstasy as he continued his abuse of your spot, never letting up or slowing down, aiming to make you cum as quickly as he could. It was obvious he wanted you to come undone as soon as possible by the way he watched your every expression.

The way your brows furrowed to the way you bit your lip. Tomura eagerly drank every expression and gave it back to you in the form of pleasure.

“What?” He started, unphased by your dilemma, “Gonna cum?”

It took a lot of focus and effort, but you nod — done with fighting for the night and accepting the fact that you will come apart quickly. So you give in to the pleasure.

Tomura smiles, a devious grin splitting his features as he curls his fingers, hitting the spot one more time for good measure and you lose composure, your climax crashing into you like a tidal wave. There was nothing you could do besides ride the feeling while holding on to Tomura tight — like you would get swept away if you didn’t.

He fucks you through it with his fingers, eyes never leaving your face as you come down from your high.

“Pent up, huh?” He questions, and this time there is that little hint of teasing. It brings you back to reality.

Yes, you have been pent up. You haven’t been able to get off to anything since you’ve broken up and it’s been hell.

You have no time for the games, you just want him and you want him now.

So, you take Tomura’s face in your hands, making him look you in the eyes. The flecks of black in his carmine eyes always makes you remember why you come back. Every single time.

“Fuck me, please, Tomura.” It's soft and filled with desire that you cannot be bothered to hide, and Tomura has never been one to deny you.

He quickly discards his own clothes, making sure to not stay away from you for long. His cock is hard and leaking precum from the head as he strokes it in preparation. You feel giddy at the thought and watch as he slides the head of his cock between your folds, coating it with your slick, and rubbing against your clit. The action makes your hips twitch up towards him.

He loves to tease and make you wait, but today he doesn’t make you wait long. Tomura leans down after lining himself up with your entrance and places his free hand behind your head, right above the nape of your neck. His hands were warm and the feeling of those hands cradling your head felt so comforting in the space of his familiar dark bedroom.

You bring a hand to his hair, tangling your fingers in his ashen locks as he pushes forward. The stretch makes you whimper and Tomura captures your lips in a kiss again, swallowing the noises and releasing a groan of his own as your walls tighten around his cock.

There's something about the way Tomura drags his hips, the way he starts off at a slow pace, winding you up as he steadily increases his speed and force. It happens so gradually that you don't realize you’re screaming his name until he tells you to shut up — threatening to cover your mouth because he didn't want his neighbors to hear how much of a slut you were.

It drove you mad the way he said it all with a smile and fucked you harder. Almost daring you to be louder so he can punish you with a hand over your mouth.

Tomura knew how rough you liked it and he always delivered, giving you back arching pleasure as he pounded into you. It leaves you gasping and struggling to keep your voice down. Your hands find the surface of his back, trying to hold on as much as you could with building pleasure on the horizon.

“Tomu— Tomura..! Please,” you cry and he doesn’t miss a beat, driving his cock so deep against your sweet spot it makes you see stars. “Fuck..!”

“Yeah, that’s it.” Tomura cooed, eyes filled with mischief as he brought you closer to the edge. “Cry for me.”

And you do, your body feeling euphoric as the feeling buzzed up your spine and filled your brain with the fuzz of ecstasy.

“What are you gonna do, huh?” He starts, his hips grinding against you, the closeness of his pelvis rubs against your clit, making you cry out again, “What are you gonna do when I breed this pretty cunt and make sure you’re stuck with me forever?”

He’s bluffing, you know Tomura doesn’t want kids. He’s just trying to gauge your reaction. Your dedication.

“Tomura…” You only moan, breath catching as he hits that spot inside you that he knows so well.

Tomura is smiling, wild and devious, as you look up at him with glossy eyes, so close to crying from the feelings, “I’m gonna do it. I’ll make you mine forever and you can’t do anything about it.”

“Ah!” You should stop him, tell him to calm down but he has your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your back arching off of the bed. Everything is blurring together and you can only slur words as the drool from your earlier kiss trails down your cheek.

You are completely at his mercy like this and you know your friends would be beyond disappointed.

It just feels so good the way his cock drags in and out of your body pulling moans and whines from your throat. He was relentless in the way he pounded into you — beyond the point of being soft and slow because he knows that’s exactly you like it.

“Say you want it.” The command comes with the slowing of his hips and you whine, high and needy as Tomura slows to a near stop.

“Tomura, I—“

“Say you want it or I swear to god I’ll stop right now.” It’s a threat and you don’t want to find out if he’ll go through with it. Tomura never goes back on his word.

“No, please, don’t— I want it!” you pant, frustrated and aching for more movement.

“I want you to,” you stammer, desperate to have your release. “I don’t care if you cum in me. I need you so bad.”

“That’s my girl,” He coos, dipping his head down onto your shoulder, “Fuck.. love you s’much”

You stop — you’ve never heard him say that. Ever. You doubted he would ever say it since it’s been so long.

He doesn’t give you a chance to ruminate on it because he's picking up the pace again and giving you the friction you were so deeply in need of. The feelings are swimming in your head as your cries reach new heights. Tomura is too far gone to stop you or care and you’re thankful. You couldn’t stop yourself if you tried.

The build of your orgasm crashes down and sends you with it, making your thighs quiver in pleasure and your eyes squeeze shut. Tomura’s mouth meets yours before you could cry out, the warmth of his tongue guiding you as he fucked you through it.

He didn’t last long after, the way your walls tightened around him with the force of your orgasm has Tomura’s pace erratic as he chased his own high.

The bed shook as Tomura finally finished, hips stuttered as he released inside of you, hot seed coating your insides and making heat rise to your cheeks. He really did it.

You watch as he slows to a stop above you, his eyes closed as he enjoys the feeling of release. Tomura’s breathing was heavy and you couldn’t stop yourself from bringing him down into another kiss, traveling from his lips to his cheeks and then back again.

It was intimate and you were worried it may have been too much, given the reason you were both in this situation was because of a stupid breakup.

Tomura’s pulls out of you, making you wince and taking the feeling of being so full away from you. He doesn’t go far, opting to stay on top of you and rest his head on your shoulder, wanting to keep you as close as possible.

“You really piss me off.” He mumbles into your shoulder, out of breath and tired. “God, why can’t you just stay with me.”

“Tomura…” Your hands run through his hair, the sweat is making it stick to his forehead as you wait for him to keep talking.

“Stop leaving me.” His voice is firm, unwavering.

“You told me to go.”

“I didn’t think you fucking would. I would never actually want you to.”

“I can’t read between the lines Tomura, I’m not in your head.” You make him look at you this time, pulling his hair a little to get him to raise his head. “Did you mean it?”

“I just said I didn’t—“

“No, the other thing you said.” He gives you a look of pure confusion and you lose a little bit of hope, “when you said you loved me?”

You stare into his carmine eyes, hoping, praying it wasn’t just pillow talk from the heat of the moment.

He looks at you for a long time, frustration still wearing on his features. If you didn’t know any better you would say he was pouting. “Of course I meant it. I’ve always felt like that.”

“But you’ve never said it!”

“I show it!”

“How?” This is getting frustrating and going in circles.

He groans, sitting up and taking his warmth with him. “I’m not going to sit here and list everything I’ve ever done for you. I don’t think it works like that.”

You open your mouth to counter, irritation on your tongue because that’s not what you meant, but Tomura stops you again.

“I don’t know how to explain it, okay?” He shakes his head and sighs, laying next to you on the bed and looking up at his ceiling. “It’s weird. I have these strong feelings, but it’s not hate, it's not anger. It's the opposite of that.”

You stare at him as he focuses ahead, keeping his eyes trained on the uninteresting ceiling above.

“Father said it’s a weakness and I should feel that way but,” There’s a pause as he looks away from the ceiling, meeting your eyes finally, “if it’s so weak of me, then why are the feelings so strong?”

Your heart aches. It's clear that he’s torn, and with the strange way he was raised you know that he can’t help the way he is.

“Tomura…”

“And it won’t go away. I can’t fight them down or push them away like I can with everything else. It eats me up and I… guess I lash out because of it.” He shakes his head and for the first time Tomura looks defeated. You’ve never seen him this way — he’s always been filled with confidence and self assured. “I just don’t know what to do.”

You bring a hand to his cheek as you press your forehead against his. It kills you that this is what’s been on his mind and you aren’t sure what you could do to fix it. Maybe there was nothing you could do, physically, but you would do your best to be there for him emotionally.

“Sometimes,” you try to be careful with your words, knowing how much Tomura looks up to his foster father even though the man has been nothing but strange to him. “People say things that aren’t true because they don’t know how to live with it.”

Tomura’s guardian cannot live with love nor the idea of it.

“That doesn't mean you have to live that way.”

And it’s the truth.

Tomura doesn’t say anything, just watches you with heavy lidded eyes, ruby red nearly glowing in the low light of the room. He was so much more than what people thought they knew of him and you didn’t care if it took time for others to see that.

He leans in, closing his eyes and you meet him halfway into a kiss.

It's warm and it's soft and you know that even when your phone is buzzing from dozens of missed calls and texts from your friends, it will be fine.

You and Tomura would take things one day at a time.

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki tomura x you #shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura x reader #mha x reader #my works #tomura shigaraki smut #shigaraki smut #shigaraki tomura smut #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki x you

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navybrat817 · 4 months ago

Text

Hold You Tight: Part 5

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 4 | Series Masterlist | Part 6

Chapter Summary: You talk to Addison, but may have dug a deeper hole for yourself. Bucky has a chat with you, too.

Chapter Word Count: Over 3.5k

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, dubcon phone sex, dirty talk, unease, possessiveness, inner turmoil, reader is trying to stay calm, needy Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight! Hope you lovelies enjoy and thank you again for the feedback so far! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. I no longer do taglists, so please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You woke up to the sound of your phone ringing. It never rang that early, minus the occasional call from the shop to see if you could go in early. With a groan, you opened your eyes halfway to glance at the device. You closed them when your vision cleared to read the name.

Bucky.

“Mmm. Too early for that,” you mumbled, rolling over to hug your pillow as the call went to voicemail.

He messaged you after you told him you had plans for the night, but you didn't read it. In fact, you hadn't glanced at your phone for the remainder of the evening after you got ready for bed. You only knew of the messages since your phone kept digging. You went through the rest of your normal routine and fell asleep almost as soon as your head hit the pillow. The date took a lot out of you.

Was it a good idea to ignore him though? This was a man used to getting what he wanted and for things to be done his way. There was a chance he wouldn't take you not responding to him well. Well, if he “cared” about you the way he claimed, he’d have to deal with it. Besides, it hadn't even been half a day since you spoke to him.

You bolted upright at the knock on the apartment door. “What the hell?” You whispered, pushing the covers back. Forcing yourself out of bed, you threw on your robe before you went to answer it. Your heart thudded as you looked through the peephole, half expecting to see Bucky on the other side. Your shoulders relaxed when you didn’t see anyone, but you only opened the door a crack.

A familiar scent filled your nostrils as you opened it more. It reminded you of the bakery you liked to visit once a week. Homey, warm, comforting. But your stomach turned when you spotted the bag since you hadn’t ordered anything.

Glancing down each side of the hall to make sure no one was there, you snatched up the bag and locked your door. Your lip wobbled when you looked inside and saw the note on top of the container. It matched the handwriting from the note in your bedroom.

“Most important meal of the day. Enjoy.”

You had half a mind to throw it out, but your grumbling stomach protested. It was your usual when you stopped into that bakery and for good reason since it was delicious. It should’ve been a nice gesture. It should’ve put a smile on your face. But how could it be when Bucky didn’t learn those things about you naturally?

The doorbell rang again as you got to the table, your heart jolting from the sound and the bag dropping to the surface. “Get a grip,” you whispered, going back to the door. Maybe Bucky could send you to a spa so you could try to relax. Not that you would ask him. He wasn’t your boyfriend.

Didn’t matter how rich he was.

You looked through the peephole again, smiling when you saw Addison on the other side. She bounced on the balls of her feet, her caffeine likely kicking in already. “Hey,” you greeted her when you opened the door.

“Hey yourself!” Addison smiled, pulling you in for a hug. She raised an eyebrow as she stepped back and took a good look at you. “How are you?”

“I’m great. Never better,” you tried to smile, stepping aside so she could go in. Guilt crept in from not being honest with a simple question. You weren't great at all. “Is everything okay?”

“Yep. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I just wasn’t expecting you to stop by so early, that’s all," you replied, double checking the lock on the door.

“I thought I’d swing by to check on you before I went to work. I didn't hear from you after I texted you and you’re usually really great about texting me back, so I wasn't sure if you were upset that we had to reschedule our plans or if something else was going on.” She paused when your face fell. You were so busy ignoring Bucky that you forgot to reply to her. “Maybe upset isn’t the right word, but bummed? I know we haven’t had much girl time lately outside of my wedding stuff.”

“I'm so sorry. I’m not upset. Last night just got away from me,” you assured her. “Bummed, I’ll give you that.” You added teasingly.

“Are you sure? I feel bad for bailing.”

“Please, don't,” you said. She had no reason to feel bad. “You get to go to The Terrace tonight, which is amazing. I don’t blame you at all for rescheduling.”

Brady was not only a nice guy and a hard worker, but he practically worshiped the ground Addison walked on. He would spoil her rotten if he could. He just wanted to make her happy and she wanted the same for him. It was the kind of relationship you admired.

Addison nudged you with a smile. “Have I told you how awesome you are? And right? I couldn’t believe it when Brady told me. It’s The Terrace!”

“You two will have a great time.” You said, leading her to the table so you didn't have to linger by the door. They deserved a nice night out. “Okay, I’m being nosy, but did he happen to say how he got the reservation? I mean, they’re usually pretty booked.”

“So, listen to this,” she began as she sat down. She had your full attention. “His new boss pulled him into his office yesterday and told him what a great job he’s been doing. Gave him a bonus and everything for all his hard work and said to celebrate by taking me out for dinner at a place of his choosing. He said ‘The Terrace’ thinking there’s no possible way, right?”

“Right,” You said, taking the food out of the bag and being careful to not let her see the note. “Do you want some?”

“No thanks. I ate before I left, but that looks amazing,” she said before she continued. “Two phone calls later, there was a table booked for us! I think he was a little embarrassed when he told me since someone else technically pulled some strings for him, but I don’t care. He works his ass off and it’s about time it was recognized.”

“I agree,” you said, replaying the words in your mind. “Wait, did you say new boss?”

“Yeah, just started a couple of weeks ago. Kind of surprised Brady since his old boss still had a year or so left, but he took early retirement. And the new boss takes his job pretty seriously, but seems like a good guy from what I’ve heard.”

You swallowed heavily. “What… What’s his name? The new boss?”

Addison’s brows furrowed as you picked at the food. “I think his name is Nick. Why?”

Your next breath was much easier. Bucky was making you paranoid in all aspects of life. “No reason. I just think that’s really nice of him,” you smiled.

Your friend didn’t look convinced for a moment. “You sounded and looked really weird when you asked.”

“Just hungry. You know how I get,” you said, forcing yourself to take a bite.

She raised an eyebrow before she shrugged. “At least you don’t get hangry like Dana,” she teased. “But yes! It was nice of him. It’s a great way to support employees.” Her eyes lit up before she smacked the table. “Ooh! I should ask if he’s single.”

“No, no, no. Don’t do that, please,” you begged. The last thing you needed to deal with was pulling an innocent man into whatever was going on with you and Bucky.

“Why not? We need to find you a man and he’s good looking. Or you know what? I think one of the groomsmen might also be single now. Maybe we could set you up with him?”

“No, Addison,” you said, trying not to let your emotions get the better of you when she had no idea what had transpired in your life over the last couple of days.

Your friend sank back in her chair, her previous excitement gone. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing,” you said, putting another bite of food into your mouth in the hopes that you’d keep more words from tumbling out. It wasn’t good to keep it bottled up, but a powerful man had threatened her. Your best friend.

“Oh, yeah? Then give me a good reason why I shouldn’t set you up with someone. Just one,” she challenged.

“Okay, fine.” Bucky’s face shimmered in your mind as you said, “It isn't set in stone, but I may have a date for the wedding. Maybe.”

You shifted in your seat, wishing you didn’t say that. It was the only thing that could possibly stop Addison from setting you up with someone else. Pulling anyone else into whatever game Bucky was playing wasn’t a smart move. Not until you could figure out how to get yourself out of this mess.

Addison's eyes went wide as she sat up and swatted at your arm. “Oh, my God! You’re asking about The Terrace when you buried the lead?! No wonder you’ve been off this morning! Tell me everything!”

“There isn't much to tell really, but…” Your heart sank as your friend literally moved to the edge of her seat, her eyes sparkling with curiosity and happiness. “He's handsome. Successful. Headstrong. Likes to read in his spare time. And for some reason, he really seems to like me.”

“Ahh! This is amazing. You're really growing out of your shell. I'm so proud of you.” Addison nearly knocked you out of your chair when she launched at you and hugged you tight. “And what do you mean he likes you ‘for some reason’? You’re a fucking goddess, okay? Say it. Say ‘I’m a fucking goddess’.”

“You’re a fucking goddess,” you joked, giggling when she hugged you tighter. “Okay, okay. I’m a fucking goddess. Let me breathe, please.”

“Yeah, you are.” She pulled back to take a seat again, a wide smile still on her face. “This is amazing news. I can’t wait to meet him.”

“Well, I'm sure everyone will love him,” you said. And you had no doubt they would. Something told you he would be the perfect charmer, telling everyone what they wanted to hear and showing them what they wanted to see. As well as being a doting boyfriend.

“If you like him then he must be great.”

“Yeah,” you said. You probably would’ve liked Bucky if things played out differently. “And you're sure he can go? I understand if he can't and I'm sure he would, too, since the wedding is just around the corner and it’s still so new.”

“Of course, he can go. Everyone is going to be thrilled.” She took one of your hands when you looked in your lap. You didn’t want to look up in case tears sprang to your eyes. “Hey. You’ve been the bridesmaid long enough. It’s about time you meet someone who finally makes you the bride.”

Tears filled your eyes anyway, but you blinked them away. If Bucky had his way, you’d be his bride soon enough. “Listen. Addison-”

“Shit, I gotta go before I’m late. I’m so sorry.” She grabbed her bag as she stood up and gave you one last hug. She was in such a hurry that she thankfully didn’t catch your misty gaze. It was better that way. “Text me, okay? We can talk more tomorrow.”

“Okay,” you nodded.

“And I won’t say anything to the rest of the girls until you do,” she promised, rushing to the door. “Seriously, so happy for you!”

“Thanks. I appreciate that,” you called after her. “Have fun tonight!”

“I will! Love you!”

The door shut, leaving you alone and in silence. You placed your head on the table with a groan. You were an idiot. No, that was cruel to think about yourself. You just felt cornered and reacted accordingly. And now you had to bring Bucky to the wedding, which was what he wanted.

What have I gotten myself into?

You lifted your head after a minute to finish your breakfast. As much as you wanted to lay about all day, you had to be productive. Plus you had to look at your phone eventually. You wondered how many more times Bucky messaged you. You also wondered if there were any stories or articles about him online.

Would snooping make things better or worse?

Making sure your front door was locked, you finally went to retrieve your phone. Stretching out on your bed, you picked up the phone and swiped until you got to Bucky’s messages. You scrolled through to the last one you sent, when you told him you had plans.

“You have plans? They really want to meet you.”

“I can still bring the dress over if you want. Just in case.”

“Already thinking about our second date. I want to make it special. I never want to stop wooing you.”

“Sweet dreams. Wish you were here so I could hold you.”

Your heart sank as you kept reading them, the words blurring together on the screen.

“Having a hard time sleeping since you haven’t answered me. I hope you're okay.”

“Maybe I should get you a new phone.”

“Ignoring me, Kotyonok? Playing hard to get?”

The last message came through a minute ago.

“Should I just come over and check on you?”

Your heart jumped to your throat as you typed out a message. What were the chances of him showing up if you didn’t respond? It was better not to risk it. You had ignored him enough. “Sorry, Bucky. I’m not glued to my phone and I crashed last night after our date. Thanks for sending breakfast over. That was a surprise.”

It wasn’t the end of the conversation, of course. “It’s okay. Just worries me when I don’t hear from you.” As if he had the right to worry about you when he caused you worry to begin with. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

You went to set your phone down, but saw more dots on the screen. “You sure I can’t see you tonight? The guys are really eager to meet you. I want you to meet them, too.”

Reading that made your stomach roll. Would they be like Ray? Complicit? “I told you I have plans. I’m sorry. Maybe another time.”

Another message popped up almost immediately. “Which one do you like better?”

Two images of Bucky appeared after the text. He stood with confidence in front of a sleek sink that you could only assume was in his bathroom. The pictures were nearly identical, minus the fact that the first image had him in a dark green jacket and the second had him in blue. But that wasn’t what made your next breath shaky.

He stared right into the mirror, the lens capturing his gaze so that it penetrated the screen. He seemed to be looking right at you. Unflinching. Unwavering.

Your fingers shook as you typed back to him. “The blue. It brings out your eyes.”

Your phone rang a second later. Now he was calling. You let it ring for a bit longer before you answered. “Hello?”

“Morning, Kotyonok.” He purred on the other end. “Hope I'm not bothering you. I just needed to hear your voice.”

“Morning.” When has a man ever called just to hear you speak? “Not sure why you need to hear it. I don’t think my voice is nice to listen to,” you said.

He chuckled. “You have a beautiful voice. I could listen to you talk all day.” Your cheeks flamed. He knew how to lay it on thick. “You’re right about the jacket. The blue is the better choice. And it’ll be a lot easier to get your opinion once we’re living together.”

You shut your eyes and counted to three. “So, you’re still convinced I’m going to live with you?”

“Before the end of the month. My promise to you.”

“We’ll see,” you said, blaming your lack of wit on your lack of caffeine.

There was some shuffling in the background that you could only make out since you went quiet. “Excited to meet my friends tonight?”

“I’m not meeting them tonight. I told you more than once that I have plans,” you reiterated. You weren't budging on that, even if all you’d do was curl up with a book. He didn't have to know.

He chuckled again, like he knew a secret you didn't. “That’s right. You did tell me that.” It was strange that he didn't ask what your plans were. “Are you ready for the day? Or are you still not dressed?”

Your eyes flickered around the room. He wasn’t there. He couldn’t see you. It was fine. “I still need to shower and get ready,” you said.

He hummed. “The shower here is nice. You’ll love the tub here, too. Has plenty of room for both of us.”

“Bucky-”

“It’s perfect for me to fuck you in it.” His voice was rougher and you thought you heard him incorrectly. “I dreamt about that last night. Bouncing you up and down on my cock as your cries filled the room, the water splashing around us. Sounded so fucking pretty.”

Your mouth fell open when you heard more shuffling. And moaning. A deep, hungry moan. “What are you…” Was he… Was he touching himself as he spoke to you? Jerking off? No. He couldn’t be. “Bucky, I’m-”

“I love hearing you say my name. Say it again, Kotyonok,” he rasped, his breathing heavier. So was yours. “Say it.”

You bit your tongue. You didn’t want to say it or hear any of this. It was filthy. Wrong. But you obeyed anyway. “Bucky,” you whispered.

The next sound he let out was something you could only describe as pornographic. “I’m so hard for you. And you’re wet for me, aren’t you? Fuck, I wish I was there to take care of you.” You rubbed your thighs together and ignored the heat in your body. It was a natural reaction. Fear. It had to be. “Talk to me. Let me hear that pretty voice.”

“I…” Your eyes squeezed shut, your chest lightly heaving. Dread gripped you and you didn’t know what to say. “I can’t.”

“Oh, I’ve imagined that, too. Telling me you can’t take my cock. That it’s too big. Too much.” He panted and something told you to keep listening instead of hanging up on him. “You’ll take it. You’ll take me. Like a good girl.”

You covered your mouth, afraid of whatever sound would come out as his heavy breathing persisted in your ear. You could almost imagine him pinning you down with his weight, taking you apart. Making you say his name. Spilling inside you as he said yours.

Bucky said he wasn't a monster. That he wouldn't hurt you. But what was he going to do to you?

“Fuck, you’ll look so gorgeous when I…” Bucky trailed off, all sounds of pleasure on his end coming to a halt. “For fuck’s sake, what?! What is so fucking important right now?!”

You pulled the phone away from your ear, your heart pounding. You thought you heard Ray in the background, but couldn’t be sure. “I-I should probably go,” you said, grateful for the interruption.

“I understand, Ray. Just give me a fucking second.” Bucky exhaled before he spoke again. “I’m sorry about that. I don’t want to go, but I have to.”

His tone was much gentler since it was directed back at you. “So do I. I need to shower,” you said. To wash off whatever just transpired even though he didn't touch you.

“Wish I was there to help clean you up and get you dirty all over again.” You heard the smile in his voice and fought the urge to get sick. “Have a good day, okay? We’ll finish this later. I promise.”

You tossed your phone away and sat up, your hands gripping the sheets as you inhaled and exhaled. Did that really just happen? One-sided phone sex or whatever the hell it was? The sounds of his moans rang in your ears. Thankfully the heat was no longer spreading through your body.

This wasn't your fault.

But you could’ve yelled for him to stop. You could’ve hung up. You didn’t do either of those things. Could've, would've, should've.

Where was your fire?

“It’s fine,” you whispered, biting your lip almost hard enough to draw blood. “I’m fine. This is all going to be fine.”

You refused to be anything other than fine. And he wasn’t at your place, so you were safe and sound, right? You had to be.

Lying to yourself didn't make you feel any better. It didn’t stop you from rushing to the toilet when you dry heaved. And it didn't stop you from wondering when he’d finish what he started over the phone.

Bucky continues to leave an impression, doesn't he? And he's convinced you're going to see his friends, isn't he? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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mayaree-darling · 1 year ago

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who's to say what's real or fake// Genshin SAGAU

from aree: impostor au but you actually are the impostor? but ofcourse theres a twist. I think i'll call this FakeGrace!Reader. This was just going to be a headcannon post but ended up a whole fic plot

warnings: themes that all come with the sagau tag (yandere, lots of religious talk, cult, etc.)

word count: 2k~

You end up on Teyvat and immediately the characters recognize you as their Creator; of course you're their Creator - you have the same face, name, and voice. You go through the ordeal of getting to know all the characters all over again and they in turn love you as the god they’ve been waiting for all this time.

You decide that well, this is the world and characters I spent blood, sweat, and tears building (even if it was behind a screen) so might as well help out and do what needs to be done. The people come to you for their problems and you find that they're not as difficult as when you were simply a player. Maybe a minor dispute here and there between the NPCs, but now the vision holders and the Archons ask for your thoughts on how to go about political matters concerning their nations. Even Snezhnaya has signed a peace treaty with the other nations as a show of good faith to the Creator (even if you know for a fact its a temporary one).

All has never been better.

Until another Creator appears in Teyvat, and this one bleeds gold the way their stories foretold. In a way you do not.

The vision holders are torn. Yes, you are an impostor, and they want to hate you for tricking them, but at the same time haven’t you only shown them love? Haven’t you been patient with them and understanding despite being thrown into a world you’re unfamiliar with?

But with careful coercion from the other god, they have to choose to follow their true Creator. You decide to take pity on them and step down from your position yourself, choosing to live with the Aranara who have gladly taken you under their wing (fake god you may be, you are still a friend of the forest, and the forest always remembers its friends).

The Archons tell their new Creator that you are no more. They pretend to not hear when the Creator says they should have brought your head with them, maybe just a bitter reaction for finding out that they have been serving an impostor all this time (the Archons are lying when they say they do not feel sickened at the idea of hurting you, and disgusted at this new God's words)

It soon becomes clear to the people of Teyvat that this new Creator is not you - none of the patience or kindness you had showed them. This new one thinks helping their people is below them, even laughs at some of their problems. They chuck their duties as a god to the vision holders and spend their days leisurely, wining and dining on the best food, expecting to be waited on hand and foot. And at first it was fine, the characters understood. Maybe their Creator was just enjoying the fruits of their labor for once (although in the back of their mind, they can't help but compare you - you who worked tirelessly to attend to everyone even when they’d almost beg you to take a break). The characters tell themselves that they just need to get used to this new god, their true Creator. It will all right itself in time. Even as the Creator acted more like a child by the day, calling for the punishment of characters for the simplest of things. It’s fine. It’s fine.

It didn't take long for their will to break.

The God of Wisdom is called as such for a reason. Nahida may be younger compared to the rest, but she is braver than most. She simply tried to impart a fraction of her wisdom, softly suggesting to the Creator to show mercy for their people who were gravely punished for things they did not do.

This Creator was not you. They did not have a drop of patience that you had, nor any love for their creations. Their god saw this as nothing but an act of treason. How dare a mere Archon tell them what to do? She dares to question who the Creator can and cannot punish?

The silence is deafening in the throne room as the Creator calls for the death of Lesser Lord Kusanali and the destruction of Sumeru. If it is mercy she asks for then it is the last thing she and her people will receive. The other Archons agree past gritted teeth, the sin of Khaenri’ah weighing heavy over their shoulders still.

Nahida had been banished to Sumeru before the order was given, so the Archons make their way to the Nation of Wisdom to tell her of her sentencing, hoping to beg her to ask the Creator for their forgiveness.

This can't be how it ends. Are they to spend their lives in fear of the god they so revered?

They enter a forest emitting divine energy in search of their friend, hearts heavy, but they found something else.

They found you. They found the Creator they loved once upon a time.

They seemed to have caught you mid-conversation with Nahida, and to their surprise (and resentment) the Tsaritsa; they can only assume that the god of Snezhnaya has informed you first of Nahida's fate. The Wanderer catches sight of them and stands in front of you in protection. You don't even bat an eye. You swallow hard and stand, Nahida's hand enveloped in yours, and the other gods would be lying if they say they did not feel jealousy strangling their lungs.

With a steady voice, you tell them that should they take one step against Nahida, you will meet them halfway. If they decide to send Sumeru to hell, they will have to go through you first. You will do everything you can to stop them, and if Sumeru falls then you fall with them.

They don't have to look at the others to make up their mind. There's a beat of silence but first it's Morax, and Beelzebul and Barbatos and then Focalor, and they are on their knees, heads bowed low.

It is only right to show respect to their god, after all. How could they be so blind?

Validation of their actions comes soon after as you let go of Nahida's hand and tell the Wanderer to stand aside. You do something that tyrant of a Creator that sits on a glass throne would never - you kneel before them and hold out your hand.

"Why are you all kneeling? Stand up. I am no longer your god. But I hope you will have me as a friend. Will that be alright?"

There are tears in their eyes as they let out stuttering laughter. Yes, this is their god. Their god with so much love and compassion and a heart that does nothing but bleed for them. A heart that does not ask for them to bleed.

You are their god. You are their true Creator. Golden blood be damned. All that gold has done nothing but blind them.

Eventually, you all end up on the forest floor. You accept the role of a friend as promised, and catch up with them. The Archons are almost in tears as you listen to their stories earnestly, squeezing their hands in sympathy as you listen to the pain they've been through under the rule of their so called Creator (they really should find a new title for you, the god that sits on your throne has sullied your rightful name). At one point they stop telling you stories of their mistreatment, unable to see your face be any sadder than it already was. They take to retelling your stories together, reminiscing better days - because is that not what they have done all this time? Think about the lovely you for every wrongdoing the other god had done in your name?

As you laugh and smile with them and their stories and their company, the idea burrows through their mind without your knowledge, taking root, and they refuse to let it go. Wouldn't it be so much better if it was always like this? Seeing your smiling face with them, a person that deserves to be called a god even more so than all of them combined. Knowing you were safe from harm, not having to defend yourself, especially from them under orders from a tyrant. Knowing you loved them the way they loved you.

It was all better with you.

When you weren't looking, the Archons gave each other knowing looks and curt nods in understanding.

You are their beloved Creator.

As a peaceful silence falls over you, they watch as you smile sadly, their hearts breaking to see such an expression on your face. In a soft voice, you apologize for not being able to do much to help them. When you lift your head, golden resolute eyes meet yours.

"You’ve done enough, Your Grace. Let us handle the rest."

You may have laughed at the old title, but the Archons are hell bent in returning it to you. Although it hurts them to say goodbye, they know it’s only for the moment. Soon, you will be with them. Back in your rightful throne, as you have always deserved.

Nahida is the youngest, and so they decide to spare her the carnage. The rest know she is no fool, they don't need to tell her what they had planned for her to know what happens next. She does not fully agree in the others' decision, yet she stays in Sumeru, promising to make sure you do not find out. Word travels fast to the other vision holders in the form of a breeze from Barbatos. Barely anyone had disagreed with the notion of removing the rejected god from the throne, and those who were hesitant at first changed their mind after hearing how you were ready to go down with Sumeru. Morax and the Tsaritsa lead the rebellion.

A god is only as powerful as the people who worship them. By the time the Archons arrived in the throne room, the Creator had no one to hide behind.

They made it a spectacle. They spin a tale for the people that the god they so worshiped was an impostor who had switched bodies with their rightful god, which explains the gold blood that should be yours. They say you were patiently waiting for them all to come back to you, to remove this impostor from your throne. You were ready to accept them all, they just needed to get rid of this filth that dared destroy your name. The Creator - no, the Impostor - is horrified when the people accept this story so easily, but they only have themselves to blame. Who cares what they have to say to defend themselves, although it’s not like they can anyway - how can they when their tongue was cut off?

Teyvat was silent as gold painted the streets of Liyue Harbor. Teyvat no longer cares for golden blood, not after all the blood and tears it had taken from its people. After all, a golden soul stands ready to take back their rightful place.

Your followers thought it had all been worth it - the pain, the hardships, the blood - to see you smile the first time you set foot outside Sumeru after what felt like years to them. And yet, despite the joyous occasion, you hesitantly turn to them and ask a question not even Irminsul would answer you.

"What happened to the Creator?"

You would be lying if you said the soft smiles each of them gave did not unnerve you as they all said the same thing, like a joke everyone knew all except you.

"We simply removed the Impostor from Your Grace's presence."

They are thankful that you are blinded by your love for them to see the gold shine on their hands. You do not ask about the shimmering streets either. Liyue was the city of gold after all, was it not?

For now, their biggest concern is your acceptance that they are your equal, but that can easily be fixed. You are their friend now, but someday you’ll be their god again. Slowly but surely. They will sit you back in your throne. They will kneel before you again. They will give you the reverence you so deserved.

It will all be yours.

You're their wonderful Creator, after all. Maybe not to you right now. But you always have been for them.

They’ll start from calling you Your Grace. You’d be too kind to tell them off over and over.

You always had been good at adapting.

You had gotten used to it then, you’ll get used to it again.

✨ Masterlist ✨

Taglist: 💛@anime-allover 💛@faeriessky 💛 @prksolon 💛 @dai-tsukki-desu

Disclaimer: Characters are not mine and belong to their respective creators. Their portrayal is merely my own interpretation of them and may not be accurate to their intended characterization. I stake no claim to the original works, only to the ideas and plot of the fictitious stories I’ve written them into.

#genshin impact sagau #self aware genshin au #sagau genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact reader insert #sagau x reader #genshin cult au #sagau

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tiredmamaissy · 11 months ago

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Ralak te Sepwan ieyk’itan: Special Episode IV

Seed of Life

This is @zestys-stuff 's OC. All credits to this character goes to this beautiful, talented artist. Thank you again for allowing me to explore and create with him!

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (24) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (19)

Warnings: nsfw, fluff, angst, early pregnancy smut (will be forewarned before it happens), daddy daughter drama, Ralak being little rough because reader won’t stop teasing him, Ralak literally has blue balls, ball play, blowjob, brief thigh fucking, likely incorrect na’vi, teacher/student dynamics/roleplay, p in v, quickie, squirting, masturbation, dirty talk, sexual tension, age gap

Disclaimer: This chapter entails pregnancy and sexual intimacy during early pregnancy. I include a warning directly before the smut happens in the case that you want to indulge in this chapter but aren’t necessarily up for the pregnancy smut.

Word Count: 10k sorry

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: thank you guys for always being so patient with me. i love yall too the moon and back <3 happy holidays and a happy new year! also, I’ve realised that I unintentionally decided that Kiri is not involved in this series (i dunno honestly, it’s just occuring to me that I’ve never really mentioned her before and it feels difficult to incorporate her at this point i suppose). It seems like we (reader) have taken her place in this au in regards to being jakes adopted ‘babygirl’ (nothing else though—no superpowers or anything loool).

Synopsis: After telling Ralak that he's going to be a father, the reality dawns on you that you need to break the news to your own father.

<- Previous -> Next

This pregnancy shouldn’t be much of a surprise to you, honestly. How could you not be? After such a breeding it would be a miracle if you weren’t pregnant. Yet the news wasn’t quite sinking in, even when Tsireya looked at you with wide eyes and spelled it out for you. But now that you’re walking towards the tsahìk, you’re faced with reality and it begins to sink in as you count each step you take.

Forty-two…

The words that rolled off the tarsem’s tongue echo in your skull.

Forty-three…

Etching themselves into the bone, leaving you with no space to deny the truth.

Forty-four…

“You are with child.”

The ringing in your ears stops as your vision refocuses on the stone cold expression of the Tsahìk. Her voice is unfaltering and clear as it delivers the news to your ears a second time. Bowing to the taller woman, you sweep three fingers away from your forehead and turn your heel to walk away. But before you can take two steps she announces something that makes your ears stand tall.

“A boy.”

Her two harshly spoken words strike through your chest, a sinking feeling now brewing in the pit of your stomach. You stop dead in your tracks and lift your head that was once tilted down to your feet. Things become even more real, having you force down a wad of your spit to keep your vision from splitting again. You’re barely able to use your voice—your mouth partially open and your tongue rolling from the churn of your tummy.

“Thank you, Ronal.” You manage to squeak a decibel or two over a whisper, dropping your head again to lock your stare to your feet before fleeing the now-crowding scene. You overhear the people murmuring the news as you scurry away to your marui pod.

‘The forest girl expects the firstborn of the village’s best warrior’;

‘She won’t make it out alive!’;

‘Did you hear? She will birth the first of a new kind. A kind with demon blood’.

If your legs could go any quicker, they would.

A child grows in your womb now. A child for the man you love—Ralak. The man who deserves it most. You’re scared and excited all at once. Proud to bear a son for such a notable and fearsome man. But afraid of how your family will take to the news.

This was your first month of being a mated pair, and you’ve already succumbed to your most primordial instinct to mate. And with what everyone is already whispering, you’re scared of much more than that. Is what they say true? Is this a risky thing? Will he be teased for being different? Will he be rejected from the clan?

Does Ralak… even want this?

You both hadn’t even sat down and spoken about the possible consequences of such a cosmic event—your synced cycles. What if he hadn’t meant all the things he said? Or if he really just couldn’t prevent the things that he did during his rut? How would he react if that were the case?

Your mind is running at a hundred clicks an hour and your nerves are wringing your stomach that it takes the hot sand spilling through the cracks of your toes to make you realise that you’re already home.

And there he is, in all his glory.

Doing nothing other than sharpening his damn spear. Sitting on his knees, leaned back with his flexed abs and gathered brows, concentrating on his task—blissfully unaware of the gossip spreading throughout the clan. The sight brings serenity to the white noise in your head, leaving nothing but the crash of the waves and the splash of the ilus off in the distance. I

Ralak’s ears twitch as he senses your presence, but he remains focused on the stroke of his whetstone against the blade. He can feel your apprehension from where he sits, and he can already tell what you’re here for. Yet he chooses to keep his appearance no less than stoic, but not enough to be intimidating.

“Tanhì.” He hums low enough that you strain to hear him.

“I need to speak with you.” You utter, wetting your dry lips with a quick swipe of your tongue. You stand there fidgeting with your fingers as you await a reply from your husband. It’s almost mortifying how silent this man can actually be. You see the slight tilt of his head and his ear perk up to listen closely. Taking this as your cue to speak, you try to find the words to say.

How do I say this?

Ralak is a simple man, perhaps it’s better to give it to him straight. An easy, ‘I carry your unborn son’, would do, right? You begin to gnaw on the dry skin on your bottom lip as you think. But his silence is really getting to you today. How can he sit there so… unbothered? Not even a glance thrown your way or an eyelash batted. Maybe you should just spit it out — ‘you got me pregnant’.

“Hm?” He lets out a muffled grunt, swiping the whetstone against the spearhead. It sounds innocent. Like he’s just immersed in a task and couldn’t quite bring himself to completely stop.

“We no longer need to prepare for my heat.” You blurt out, not even knowing where the words came from. You witness his spine straighten and him quickly stilling his movements.

Little did you know his heart gallops at the speed of a direhorse, thumping wildly between his ribs as he prepares himself to finally hear you utter the words. Oh, how he had been waiting for your sweet voice to sing the news. But he realises that you seem to need an extra push to say them.

“And why is that?” Ralak husks, still unmoving.

You wait for him to turn around. To look your way. Something.

But… nothing.

“I’m pregnant.”

Ralaks heart skips a beat and his breath catches in his throat. A grin spreads from ear to ear, so strong and wide that if you were really paying attention you would have caught the way his ears stand at full height.

But you were too busy fighting the bubble of the blood in your thumping heart, trying to keep your frustration to a minimum. You had expected more. For him to turn around, at the very least. All you could hear was the da-dump and the silence between you two. Until you couldn’t take it anymore.

Perhaps it’s all the hushed chatter from earlier or maybe it’s just the new surge of hormones and out-of-whack pheromones but you can’t help the burn of your eyes as they fill with tears.

“So w-what? Not even a glance my way? You knock me up and have nothing to s-say for it?” You choke back your heated tears of frustration, Ralak now huffing a vehement sigh. “You’re not even surprised, or—” Your blubbering is cut short by your husband's quick movement.

Ralak instantaneously brings himself to his feet and storms over to you, towering over your petite frame. Now he’s peering down at you, dark, smouldering eyes holding the most intimidating gaze with you as he closes the distance between your bodies. He’s still damp from seeing to the ilus this morning that when your chest touches his cold, bare stomach, it hardens your nipples into stiff peaks.

“Surprised?” He rasps, his large hand flying to your lower stomach, gently pressing into it. Heaving shoulders slowing as he steadies his breathing, Ralak lowers his head to brush his lips against the shell of your ear—

“Do you not think I had every intention of putting this baby inside of you?”

Hearing this spoken in such an assertive tone sends shivers up your spine—Ralak knows exactly how to handle you and your… sensitivity. He always has. Your tail sways uncontrollably behind you, earning a well concealed smirk from the giant before you. It’s always been one of his favourite parts of you, but now—oh, now he has a new favourite part of you.

Your soon-to-be swelling belly.

“I have known.” He admits through a whisper, smoothing his entire palm over your budding womb, planting a quick kiss on your temple. “Your scent… it has changed, tanhì.”

“What?” You whisper, almost pulling away from his tender touches to look at him. “And you didn’t say anything?”

“I wanted to hear you say it. I have been waiting… to hear you say it.” He’s the one to pull away this time, looking you deeply in the eyes. His free hand raises, using his thumb to wipe away a tear seeping from the corner of your eye. “Please. Do not cry.”

You don’t even know what to say. Yet again, Ralak leaves you speechless—with trembling lips and a swelling throat.

“And you are actually eating the payoang niktsyey [fish wraps] I cook.”

“What?” You snort, letting loose a sudden, nasally giggle. You drop your smile and try to fix a serious expression on your face. “What do you mean? I always eat your payoang niktsyey [fish wraps]”

Ralak laughs, his three fingers tucking hair behind your ear, “I see you throw them to the ilus, tanhì. I am no fool.”

You laugh again, snotty-nosed and teary-eyed, sniffling when the uncontrollable giggling fit ends. “It seems that our son enjoys your cooking, ‘lak.” You bubbler with a wobbly smile, blinking harshly to clear your vision.

Ralaks eyes bulge as they frantically search yours—a beaming smile spreading across his lips, his pointed teeth on full display. “Son?” He exhales softly, his left brow bone jumping ever so slightly.

All you can do is nod, letting your wobbly smile morph into a grin. The tears come back like they never left, twice as much and even hotter than before. You swear you see Ralaks eyes gloss over too, glistering in the sunlight.

Ralak sinks to his knees, coming face to face with your soft tummy.

“My prrnen [baby]. My ‘evengan [son; boy child]. It is your sempu [daddy].” He whispers, heated lips slightly pressed against your silken skin. Chin tucked to your chest, you watch in awe, straining to listen to his hushed whispers. “I have wanted you for so long.”

Hearing that—oh, how hearing that makes you feel. You feel warm inside, your heart so full all your earlier fears melt away. Ralak looks up at you, azure blue eyes filled with nothing but love and adoration—gratitude and admiration.

“My sweet tanhì. You have made me the man I have always wanted to be.” He croons at you, planting a long, soft kiss on your stomach—eyes still locked with yours. “And I thank you for that. Nìt’iluke [forever; never-endingly]”

And just like that, the butterflies you felt when you first laid eyes on this man come rushing in, flapping their wings at full force.

“I am your mate.” You sputter out a little, tiny sob. “It’s what I-I am supposed to do.”

Ralak stands up, holding eye contact with you the entire way.

“You owe me nothing. It is an honour that you carry my unborn, y/n.” His hand leaves your stomach to grasp your hand, intertwining his thickset fingers with yours. “You will be a nawm [great] mother.”

“And you will be the best father.” You choke back your sobs, struggling to get your words out. A comfortable silence passes, where you both immerse yourselves into one another’s touch. Until Ralak witnesses your expression morph into something of worry.

“What is it?” He asks in a hushed voice, keeping his tone calm and cool.

“Speaking of… fathers.” The column of your throat undulates when you gulp hard, “How will I tell mine?”

Ralak swallows, too. The thought had crossed his mind a few times over the past week. He saw the answer as simple – tell him. Ralak holds a lot of respect for your father, looking up at him as a superior given his status and skill as a warrior. And although he’s slightly intimidated by your father, Ralak sees this respect as mutual—therefore, it should be returned. Surely, this will go smoothly if you both remain polite.

Right?

“We tell him. Together.” Ralak grasps your hand once more, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze, his heavy accent shining through now that he’s high on emotions, “I keep you safe. Both of you.”

——

Both you and Ralak make your way down the shore towards the webbing of overlapping mangrove roots. Though you insisted on breaking the news to your family by yourself, he was adamant that he accompanies you. You couldn’t bear the thought of your father lashing out on Ralak, especially in front of the others. You tried to explain that to him, but he simply shook his head and tightened the clasp of his saya (knife sheath) on his hip.

You make the trek by foot, wanting a little more time to think about what you were going to say, and he ensured to stay right behind you. Quite literally—looming behind you like some sort of bodyguard. Every na’vi you pass are quick to avert their gaze elsewhere when they see the giant you have as a shadow. They tried not to look to begin with, but it was a rare sight to see you two so close together among the clan.

Their hushed whispers are kept to an absolute minimum but Ralak hears them nonetheless. It doesn’t bother him. Not anymore, at least. It used to bother him before he had met you—hearing the chatter of the gossip about his voluntary six year celibacy despite being the chief’s right hand man. And now that the murmurs entail nothing but his relationship with you, he could care less.

But then he hears the indistinct mumble about the babe budding in your womb. It’s something along the lines of ‘it being some demon hybrid’. The comment alone has Ralak screeching to a halt, his head snapping in the direction of a stocky, young warrior in training. One that Tonowari had relentlessly urged Ralak to teach until he begrudgingly gave him a couple combat lessons.

Ralak’s eyes narrow and sharpen, snapping down to shoot a threatening leer down at him. That's all it took for the stumpy na’vi to drop his head in shame and scurry away with his younger companions.

Sensing that Ralak is no longer on your tail, you turn around, half-expecting him to be five steps behind. Instead, he’s right where you left him, with a reassuring smile and an extended hand gesturing you to ‘continue’. You return a light hearted smile and spin around, taking another step towards your family marui.

——

“To what do we owe the visit?” Neteyam smiles as he greets you at the marui door, arms splayed out for a hug. You smile and slump into your brother, allowing him to envelope you in a warm embrace. “We haven’t seen you in what feels like weeks, sis.”

“Because we haven’t.” Lo’ak adds, lurking behind his bigger brother, arms crossed over his chest with a grin on his face.

“Hey Lo’.” You say in a low voice, smiling at him as you let go of your big brother. Ralak silently stands at the marui door, head awkwardly tilted in an attempt to fit himself in such a tight space.

“Hey, sissy.” Lo’ak throws an arm around your neck, patting your shoulder a few times as he walks you further inside and away from Ralak. “What’s up with the shadow?” He doesn’t even try to quieten his voice as he nudges his chin in your husband's direction.

You force a little laugh, unwrapping his arm from around your neck so you can inch away back to your ‘shadow’. You back up until you bump into his solid build, making a muffled thump when you collide. He steadies you by the shoulders, lidded eyes flicking down to check that you’re okay. He can sense your nervousness.

“I–we… have something to tell you guys.” You begin, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Where’s everyone else?”

Lo’ak’s eyes squint, brows furrowing as the gears in his brain grind twice as fast to figure out what you could possibly be calling a family meeting for. “No fucking way. Already?” He blurts out when he finally puts two and two together. Your eyes widen when they dart over to him, catching sight of the shit eating grin plastered to his face.

Fuck, is this skxawng going to spoil it for me? You think to yourself, apparently loud enough for Ralak to hear. He squeezes your shoulders before sliding his hands down the full length of your arms and letting go. “Mawey [calm].” He breathes, his head still hanging low. You look behind you, tilting your head up to meet his comforting gaze.

“Hey, babygirl.” Jake’s voice snaps your attention back down, having you look your father in the eye. His smile is as wide as his arms as he approaches you for a hug.

“Dad. Hey.” You whisper, returning the hug and snuggling into his chest. You bask in the moment, lingering onto how things are now—before you drop the bomb on him.

“I missed ya.” Jake chuckles, rubbing your back. He finally lifts his head and sees your ‘shadow’ hovering a little closer than needed. “Jeez, let her breathe, boy. She’s just huggin’ her old man.” Ralak keeps his head hung and takes a small but noticeable step back. Jake gives you a quick peck on the head as he begins to pull away. “What have ya’ been up—”

Jake cuts himself short, leaning back in to smell your hair. His eyebrows gather when he recognizes the familiar scent. Neytiri has smelled similarly a few times before. Jake grinds his teeth, scrunched brows and narrow eyes giving away his current state of mind. His hands slide down your arms, gripping then as he looks you dead in the eye. “Y/n. You got somethin’ to tell me?”

“Dad–” You swallow down the knot in your throat, already getting choked up.

Jake's lips purse into a thin line as his death-stare immediately averts to Ralak. And for what feels like an eternity, nothing but silence fills the room. The tension in the air is almost suffocating. Jakes eyeing Ralak down whilst Ralaks stare is locked on the way he’s holding you.

You glance over at your brothers. One’s obviously got it figured out, arms crossed, shaking his head with a smug look on his face. And one is completely clueless—poor thing. You look back at your father who is now seething, leer averted back to you as he exerts all his energy into being patient.

“What’s going on? Guys?” Neteyam breaks the silence with a worried tone to his voice. His eyes bounce from person to person, until they land on his brother.

“He knocked her up.” Lo’aks whispers harshly, not even trying to be discreet. Neteyams brows raise and now he is, too, staring at you. You feel all the blood drain from your face and suddenly you’re extremely light in the head.

Mortified is an understatement.

Everyone is clearly waiting for you to confirm it. But you’re having such a difficult time saying the two silly little words. The pressure is on now, you could even see Ralak straining to hold his tongue. You finally muster up a cowardly nod, and immediately your fathers grip intensifies, squeezing your arms firm and tight. He’s looking down at you with eyes of disbelief and somewhat disappointment, frantically searching yours to see if this is really the truth. You let loose a low hiss, wincing when you feel the pinch of his grip.

Not even another second passes when you hear the slap of your husband’s large hands grabbing ahold of your father’s wrists.

“She is pregnant.”

A deep, but low growl rips from Ralaks chest. In other words, ‘never lay your hands on a pregnant woman’. Ralak dwarfs Jake as he inches in a little closer, grasping his wrists just firm enough to send this message.

“Yeah. Got it, bud.” Jake returns a growl through his teeth and tightened lips. He shifts his position slightly, eyes flicking down to acknowledge what his son in law is trying to get across. Nonetheless, Jake stands his ground. “Get your hands off me.”

Ralak tries to regain his composure, but his protective instincts have just about gone haywire. The urge to protect has never been so intense before. It’s like his soul knows that there’s just more to protect.

More at stake.

Ralak looks down at your fathers hands once more, silently making his point clear. He holds eye contact with Toruk makto whilst he remains unmoving.

“Lak…” You squeak a warning to your husband, who only flutters his jaw as a response. Lo’ak and Neteyam are on edge, both concerned that their father has a grip on you, but even more so that Ralak has a grip on their father. They watch intently, trying to decipher if and when they need to intervene.

To everyone’s surprise, Jake exhales harshly through his nose and gently pulls away from you, but wrenches his wrists away from Ralak’s grasp. “Sorry, kid.” Jake spits an apology, readjusting his position to be directly in front of Ralak. “Care to explain how this happened so damn quick?”

“Dad!” You shout in disbelief, wedging yourself back in between the two.

“You know what? Don’t even answer that.” Jake snaps.

“You know you are really no one to talk! Where’s mom? Mom!” You go on the tips of your toes, leaning from side to side to look for her behind both the two male na’vi.

“‘xcuse me?” Jake purposely blocks your view by bobbing his head wherever yours goes. “I am still your father and you will not speak to me that—” Jake steps to the left to avoid Ralak and walk towards you. Ralak quickly adjusts himself to be the wall between you and your father, not allowing Jake the chance to even finish his sentence. Ralak is now looking down at Jake with a stoic expression, trying his best not to come off intimidating or challenging in any way.

All to no avail.

“You got a problem with me, boy?” Jake grumbles through his clenched jaw, getting in Ralaks face now.

“No. Only keeping my word, sir.” Ralak simply responds.

Jakes brought back to the very moment he made Ralak give him his word. His word that he’d never let a thing happen to his baby girl. The night you completed your iknimaya. The night he granted Ralak the permission to mate with you.

The night Ralak took your virginity.

Jake stalls for a few seconds, taken aback by Ralaks behaviour but a little impressed at the same time. Jake's expression softens upon realizing that Ralak is just protecting his mate—just as he does Neytiri, especially during her pregnancies.

But there’s no way in hell that Jake will be the first one to back down here.

“Mom!” You call for her once more, hoping that she’ll swoop in and save the day.

Neytiri rushes in, hand on her hip where she keeps her dagger sheathed—worry and concern etched into her features. She analyses the situation, taking in the scene of her own mate standing face to face with yours. She glances over at you, seeing the panic in your eyes and the hand on your stomach that you didn’t even know you had placed there. Slowly walking up to the two male na’vi, she places a firm hand on her mates chest, pushing him away from Ralak. “Ma’ Jake. What is happening here?”

Jake’s pressing his lips firmly together, not wanting to say the words. He shakes his head a little, huffing through his nostrils before placing a hand on his hip. His other hand extends in your direction, as if he were pointing out the obvious. Yet he remains choked up and speechless, his hand falling to his thigh as he gives up.

Finally, he mumbles, “Go on. Tell her.”

Neytiri looks back at you, eyes trailing back down to your hand that’s mindlessly resting on your stomach as she awaits for your answer. You feel the burn of her eyes, yanking away your hand when it becomes too much. Being the daughter of Mo’at, a tsahik, Neytiri needed nothing more than a quick glance and sniff to know what’s going on. “Is this true?”

“Yes, mom. It is true. I am.” You say in a defeated tone of voice. Ralak shifts himself, settling close beside you now rather than in front of you. He always had an even greater respect for your mother.

Neytiri’s expression only grows softer, until there's no trace of concern left in her face. Her smile is downturned but her eyes are bright, glistening with joy as she pulls you in for a warm embrace.

“It is a blessing from Eywa, my child.”

She pulls away from you, now looking over to Ralak. Neytiri lays a gentle hand on Ralaks upper bicep, “Seykxel sì nitram [congratulations] .” Ralak signs ‘I see you’ to his mother in law, exchanging a light hearted smile with her.

It was no secret that Neytiri longed to be a grandmother. Her days of children are over now, although she was expecting her eldest, Neteyam, to give her a grandchild first. But Ralak — Ralak is a remarkable, mighty warrior and hunter. The olo’eyktans right hand man, and undoubtedly the best fisherman in the village.

In fact, Ralak was one of the first people Neytiri took a liking to after she adjusted to the way of water. She always felt that he was a good suitor for her daughter.

“Are you kiddin’ me? It’s barely been two months!” Jake scoffs, shaking his head.

“And a day for us, Jake.” Neytiri tries her best to keep a calm, but firm voice. “They are a mated pair, they are having a family now. It is Eywa’s will.”

Jake quiets himself, reflecting on his harsh ways. He sighs, loudly. His eyes finally glance down to what everyone in the room has been looking at, now staring at your protective hand that mindlessly lay over your womb once again. He grits his teeth, averting his stare to the ground, eyeing the charred wood of the fire pit. His tongue clicks as he parts his lips, muttering—

“I know… I know, alright? She’s just—” He looks up at Neytiri, then Ralak, and then you. “She’s my babygirl.”

It’s his way of saying, ‘I just want to protect my family.’

“Dad. I am but—but I’m not your baby anymore. I’m not a kid.” You croak, finding it hard to hold eye contact with him. “Your grandson is the new baby of this family.”

Jake tries to fight the way his eyebrows scrunch together, it was like hearing about the news of his firstborn son all over again. He exhales slowly, nodding his head and extending his arms to hold you. His warmth envelopes you completely, leaving no room for any cold or harsh thoughts and feelings to linger.

“You keep ‘em safe.” Jake's chin presses into the crown of your head as he mutters the words to Ralak. Ralak had always had a hard time understanding Jake's native slang, but this he understood— loud and clear.

“Always.” Ralak answers firmly.

Your safety has been, is and will always be his number one priority.

Jake nods once, squeezing you a little tighter before letting go fully. “Seykxel sì nitram [congratulations], you two.”

“Thank you, dad.” You smile whilst Ralak bows his head. Neteyam and Lo’ak finally come over for their hugs, making a comment of their own as they release you from their grasps.

“I’m gonna teach him everything I know.” Lo’aks grin is unnerving and a little sinister, giving away the trouble that he’s already trying to get your son into.

“Please don’t.” You joke back with your brother, even though you’re being dead serious.

Neteyam jabs an elbow into his brother's rib cage, disciplining him for his mischief. “Agh — do not worry, Uncle TeTe will keep him in check.”

“Well, that’s a relief.” You say softly with a smile on your face, “‘Uncle TeTe’. I like that.”

“Hey, don’t forget about ‘Uncle Lo’Lo’.” Lo’ak chimes in.

“Eh. Doesn’t have the same ring to it, you know? What do you think, lak?” You jester, looking up at him to be met with a slight smirk.

“Very… hiyìk [strange; funny].” Ralaks smirk pulls at his lips a little more. “But, at least it is not ‘ak’-ak’.”

You swear you hear a little chuckle from everyone in the room. All except Lo’ak, who is staring at Ralak with a deadpan expression, arms crossed defensively over his chest. It feels like an eternity passes until Lo’ak finally booms with laughter, extending his arm out to Ralak, who gaily reciprocates and meets Lo’aks’ with a smack.

“I like this bodyguard of yours, y/n. He actually has a sense of humour.”

You let loose a scoff and roll your eyes, about ready to wrap this whole thing up and lie down in bed. It’s seemingly obvious, seeing that everyone is giving you space as they take note of your restless body language and bowed shoulders.

“If you are tired, you should rest.” Neytiri advises, just as you feel Ralaks hand tuck under your arm to support your weight. “Your body is working hard right now.”

“Yeah, mom. I think I need to lie down for a little.” You mumble, leaning into your mate a little more.

Your family practically ushers you out, encouraging you to get some rest and to get off your feet. Ralak walks close to you on the way home, keeping with the pace you set to the tee — only intervening with a hand to your hip when necessary.

And when you finally slump into bed, your eyelids flutter shut before Ralak can settle himself beside you.

——smut warning——

You rouse to Ralak drawing the curtain of your marui, blocking out the orange hue of the last eclipse. It dawns on you that you’ve slept out most of the day. You didn’t even realise you were so tired to begin with.

“You should have woken me earlier. I slept out the day.” You mumble, sitting up in bed and lightly kicking off the sheets.

Ralak turns around, surprised that you’re awake. He curses himself under his breath; he was hoping to keep you sleeping by drawing the curtains but instead he did the opposite.

“You needed to rest.” He says, making his way over to sit on the edge of the bed. “You have been more tired recently.”

“Yeah?” You snort, “…and what else have I been, sir know-it-all?”

Ralak chuckles, his eyes falling to your stomach. “…a little more hungry.”

You smile a little, remembering his fish wrap comment from earlier.

But then you witness his half-lidded eyes glaze over with something of… wanton. It takes a second to realise that they’re no longer staring at your belly. They’re staring at your tewng [loincloth]. More specifically, the mound imprinting it.

It’s the way your pussy is being so tightly squeezed by the thin cloth covering it. It’s the one thing that Ralak can’t help himself from indulging in admiring. Then his eyes snap away, unexpectedly meeting yours. The stare he’s giving you has your thighs rubbing together and your lower tummy tingling.

“…a little more tempting.” His voice is thick like honey, laced with lust and arousal.

In every way. From the way you fill out your top more, to your scent—you’re becoming more

irresistible the farther along you progress. Your heart beats a little harder between your ribs as you swallow the saliva pooling in your mouth. His lecherous gaze is fixed, blue eyes piercing into yours. It’s been too long since he’s been inside you that it aches.

But he’s been patient.

Especially since the day he figured out you were pregnant. With the way you smelt he found it hard to keep his distance at times but nonetheless, he did it. But the truth is that you haven’t had penetrative sex since your cycles synced.

To be clear, he took care of you just fine.

Tending to your needs whenever you initiated intimacy with him but he never took it further than his fingers and mouth. After seeing you so battered by his own hands he found it hard to put you in a position that could garner a similar result again.

For a while, he lost trust within himself.

That he no longer had the capacity for self control. Not only did he feel like he didn’t deserve it, but he never expected you to return the pleasure either. He had already taken you on his own terms. Repeatedly.

Ruthlessly.

So when you ate one to many of his payoang niktsyey [fish wraps] — when the new earthiness of your scent wafted past his nose — he knew. He knew it stuck. He knew your womb swelled with his child as each day passed. And the urge to protect only swelled with it.

He became even more gentle with you. Handling you with care when your skin softened and your hips became a little fuller. Ensuring he had excess when he cooked. Weaving an extra thick blanket for you to sleep with when he was off on duty with Tonowari.

It ached most when he’d come home just to see it kicked off onto the floor, with you on your stomach and your leg propped up just right. Your loincloth would always shift to the side, just enough to expose plump folds that innocently peek through the seam of the thin fabric. Fuck, it more than ached. It made him tender. Throbbing in his own tewng.

Just like now.

He dares not to break the steady, intent stare. Or else he may steal another glance at the softness between your thighs. But he can see in your eyes that you feel similarly. You always give him that look before doing something ‘troublesome’. You break eye contact first, your eyes now landing on his tewng.

Fuck.

Your eyes widen a little when you catch sight of the growing, thick bulge in his loincloth. Your gaze locks onto it, taking in every detail. From the thick stripes on his thighs to the way the twine of his loincloth is cutting into his v-lines. You can even see the outline of the crown of his cock.

His stomach rises and falls from his uneven breathing, and his abs pop out one by one as he leans further back—supporting his torso with his arms behind his back. He was never shy about his body, and he certainly isn’t now.

“Then, why do you resist me?” Though it's a question, it doesn’t sound like one when the words drip off your lips. Your voice is soft and feigned with innocence, yet you're shuffling to get on all fours to crawl over to him. You truthfully don’t care for the answer, you knew that it would be the same old song—‘he doesn’t want to hurt you’.

“I hurt you.” He says coldly—simply, glancing at the fading scar on your shoulder as you settle yourself on your knees beside him. He watches as your hand finds purchase on his knee, and slides up his thigh. “And now that you are with child… I—haah”. He’s cut short with a shaky breath and slight jolt when you cup his bulge with a bit of force. He looks down at your hand, dainty and slender, barely grasping half of what’s under his tewng.

“You worry about me too much.” You mumble, more focused on the speed at which his cock pulses at. “Yet still, never yourself.” You feel around, sliding your palm up and down its length, earning a rough exhale from Ralak in return. His lidded eyes dart back over to you, taking in the sight of you almost bent over his lap.

“That so?” His voice is thick and gruff.

“Mhm. ‘m always telling you that, aren’t I?” You hum softly, slowly moving your hand further down between his legs, firmly cupping his balls. They’re heavy in your hand, hot to the touch and—

Eywa.

“They’re swollen.” You whisper breathlessly, your glossy eyes meeting him with concern. They dart back to his crotch, your hand now fumbling with the twine of his tewng, hurriedly trying to unravel the knot to get the suffocating fabric off him.

“‘tis fine.” He winces as he spits out the words, watching you pinch him a little while struggling with the taut material.

Ignoring his words, you continue with your task, a bit more gently now. And when the knot comes undone, the twine falls off his hips and the tewng loosens with it. You tug it off him and see that they’re not only puffed up but also darker in colour. They’re firm and pulled close to his body, perfectly round and stripes well-defined.

Shamefully, it turns you on to see his balls so full.

Just the thought of them being so swollen with his seed that they’re aching and throbbing to empty themselves inside you—fuck, it’s making your teeth grit. You sit back into the dip of your feet and stare as your breathing becomes heavier. The more you look the more you realize that they’re pulling tighter and tighter towards his core. You look up at him, a little surprised. Your arousal is etched into your features and it’s more than obvious in your body language. You want to know how they’d feel in your mouth. How they’d taste.

If they’d even fit.

Without another passing second you bend over his lap, tail high in the air and legs spread—the overpowering scent of your arousal filling the air. You shove your face between his thighs, inhaling deeply his musky scent. You let out a breath of desire, one that sounds nothing short of pleasure and satisfaction. He smells too good. You can’t help yourself but give his firm balls a quick, kitten lick. The giant above you holds back his chuckle, finding your behaviour cute and honestly a little amusing. Feeling like the butt of a joke, you firmly grasp his length and tug it upwards, causing his balls to pull even tighter.

“Y/n.” He hisses your name, adjusting his legs to rid himself of the strained feeling. You wet your lips with a quick swipe of your tongue, and press your cheek against them. They’re hot—heating up a degree higher the more you tease him. Just as you pull your cheek away and manage to fit one of them into your mouth, his hand flies to the back of your head, balling your hair into his fist.

“You need not to—” your tail curls and the tip of it tickles against his chest, “—haah…do this.” Ralak huffs out a sigh of frustration it seems, looking down at you with somewhat of a predatory leer. You pop off with a pwah, catching your breath and turning your head.

You both share an intent stare with one another, one that feels more challenging than anything. He’s insistent that he’s undeserving of this, and you’re insistent that he must be taken care of. His grip loosens on your hair, until he lets you go completely.

“Shh…shh.” You shush him, eyes narrowing as they remain locked onto him. You slowly slide off the bed one leg at a time, sinking to your knees and settling yourself between his legs—now looking up at him with doe-eyes. The sight before you has your heart palpitating, just like the sight of your face so close to his cock has his jaw clenching.

Ralak quiets himself by locking his jaw, waiting patiently to see how this unfolds. It’s the first he’s seen you in this position, on your knees, between his. His cock twitches in excitement as clear, thick beads of precum begin to roll down its length. You swallow thickly at the sight, wrapping your dainty fingers around its girth to pull it close to your flushed lips.

Ralaks ears flutter and his eyelids grow heavy, his chest heaving as he shifts his weight to the palms of his hands—sitting up.

You open your mouth, strings of your saliva connecting your lips together. They break when you lower your head, taking the mushroomy, glistening head of his cock into your mouth. It’s mostly sweet, and a little salty too. The corners of your mouth sting as you accommodate his thickness, and you struggle to open your jaw wide enough to take him further into your mouth.

His head dips forward, eyes slamming shut when he feels your wet, warm tongue press against the underside of his cockhead. His hand flies to your head again, gently cupping the back of your skull as he lets out a strained breath.

Muffled noises vibrate through your nose as you swipe your tongue side to side against his head. It throbs against your tongue each time it hits that sensitive spot right down the middle. You suckle and swipe at the same time, using your hands to pump the rest of his length until you're grunting and snorting for air. You come up, gasping to fill your lungs.

His hand quickly slides from the back of your head to cup the swell of your cheek. His calloused thumb swipes at a bead of saliva rolling down your chin and pops it back into your mouth. “What are you doing, my tanhì?” He whispers the rhetorical question, ensuring his voice is calm and gentle. It sounds as if he’s given up—given in.

Without answering, you take him back into your mouth, locking your jaw once you open it as wide as you possibly can. You stick your tongue out as far as it’ll go and look up at him with eyes that begin to water. He looks down at you with a concerned expression, which morphs into one of astonishment. Your head goes lower and lower, taking inch after inch of his cock down your throat.

The tears in your eyes finally spill over, and your nose begins to burn. Half of his length is down your throat and you can barely breathe, but the more his face grimaces from how good you feel around him, the more of him you urge yourself to take. You hold onto his hips, using them as leverage to shove more of him down your throat.

“Hnng. Easy.” He groans roughly, pushing back against your shoves. “You are pregnaaah—mmn, you will make yourself sick, tanhì.”

Lifting your hand from his hip, you smack away his hand and take him full hilt, his cock hitting the back of your throat, making it bulge. You stop for a second, slowly inhaling through your nose to focus on not gagging. You try moving the back of your tongue, slowly stroking the rest of his length with your hand.

“Ah, shit.” He exhales shakily, his eyes rolling back before squeezing shut. He looks focused, like he’s concentrating on not cumming down your throat right then and there. Lips parted slightly, each breath he takes becomes louder and more raggedy. His thigh muscles tense up and his legs spread a little more, his hand finding its own way to the base of your kuru.

Chest swelling with pride, you begin to bob your head and coat his cock with your sticky spit. The more slippery it gets the harder he has to fight back his choked grunts. The grip he has on your kuru is tightening, as if he were preparing himself to pry you off his cock before he fills your throat.

Suddenly, his head sinks back and his jaw clenches—hard. You could feel it. The way his cock twitches. The way it’s heating up. The way it’s swelling in your mouth. Gurgled noises are escaping past his lips, and he purses them tightly together in attempts to keep himself quiet. His core flexes, and his hips start to stutter. His whole body jolts from how sensitive he’s getting, and finally he thrusts into your mouth, the pointed tip of his cock slamming into the back of your throat.

You silently gag as his hips stammer into you and he’s fucking your throat in frenzied little movements. He’s trying his hardest to be as gentle as he possibly can.m, but your throat is so soft and tight around him. You swallow around his cock as you try to take a breath and suddenly his erratic movements still.

“Y/n.” He lets loose a dying groan as his head slumps forward and his inebriated eyes struggle to open.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

His voice is gravelly and thick with restraint. You love to see him like this—hear him like this. You can’t help the wandering hand that’s making its way down to your soaked tewng. You try to touch yourself through the fabric, but have a hard time finding your clit with it covered like this. Exasperated, you shove your hand under the band of your loincloth and use all four fingers to rub sloppy circles into your puffy clit.

Ralak is too immersed into this to even take note of your desperation. He’s too desperate himself. And if you don’t stop now, he really won’t be able to help himself. He begins tugging you by your queue, trying to pry you away from him. With each hasty swipe of your fingers you suck a little harder, as if you were trying to match your pleasure with your mates’. He pulls at your kuru even harder but you’re unbudging, firmly holding the base of his cock as you relentlessly suckle on the most sensitive part of his tip.

“Stop.” He growls out of breath, finally looking down just to be tipped close to the edge by the sight below him. You look dumb and fucked out with his cock stuffed in your mouth, broken moans vibrating against his length as you franticly touch yourself.

Finally, he yanks you off him with one swift, hard tug, his cock slapping his stomach when it pops out of your mouth. You land on your behind, legs spreading wide open as your fingers work away at your now throbbing clit.

“Why? Can’t handle it?” You taunt him between pants and breathy, hoarse moans. Rather than answering he looks down at you with a cocked brow, kuru still in hand. Both of you stare at one another, shoulders and chests violently heaving as you both pant for air. He’s raw and pulsing, twitching from the heartbeat in the crown of his cock.

It's suspended mid air, jumping from how insanely aroused he’s left himself. Sticky beads of precum constantly roll down his shaft, one after the next and his balls are throbbing too. You get back on your knees and lunge for his cock again, tongue darting out to have another taste. He pulls you back, his hand still having a firm grasp of your kuru.

“Is this what you are like when you have been bred?” Ralak huffs, a little taken aback by your lewd behaviour. His gaze shifts to your pathetic attempt to make yourself cum, and a smirk spreads across his lips. “So desperate.” Your silence has his brows scrunching together and him yanking your head back so you’re looking up at him. A growl rumbles in his chest as he slowly rises to his feet, bringing you to your knees with him—his hung cock swaying directly in your face.

A smug little smile pulls at your lips when you realise you’re riling him up. You witness his jawbone flutter, his ears laying flat against his skull. He just wants to stuff his cock back down your throat to teach you a lesson. Instead he shoves your face into his crotch, your nose burying itself into the space between his cock and balls. He holds you there for a few seconds, just long enough that when he finally pulls you away you suck in a tiny gasp of air.

Ralak sighs a low, lengthy breath, forcing himself to regain his composure. He can’t understand how such a little thing can be so feisty. To act as if he couldn’t pin you down and take you without a scuffle. Truthfully it only makes him even harder. It only further proves that you are really the woman for him.

Slowly bringing you to your feet, he keeps your face pressed to his body so that your bottom lip drags along his torso as you make your way up. Your hand is still stuffed inside your tewng, slick fingers working hard to find their way back to your clit. With his free hand he grabs a hold of your hip, and steadily backs you up against the wall.

When your back hits the wall, a shaky breath is expelled from your lungs. He lets go of your kuru and rips your hand from your tewng. He then wedges his knee between your legs, putting pressure on your clit, making it flutter uncontrollably. His movements are quick but gentle, filled with purpose and desire. His eyes dart back and forth between yours as he searches them, his face just inches away from yours.

“Answer me, little one.” He whispers into your mouth.

“Yes.” Your answer is breathy and short.

Ralak heaves a heavy sigh.

“I am trying to be gentle…” He speaks the words through gritted teeth, using both hands on your hips to spin you around to face the wall. He lowers his head until his lips graze against the tip of your ear. “…but you make it so hard for me.” He growls, using the perfect amount of force to pin you against the wall with his body. His large hand swiftly moves to your lower stomach, cupping it to act as a protective barrier between the wall and your budding womb.

“No need to be. I can handle you just fine.” Your lips are pressed tight to your teeth, face flush against the smooth surface, making it hard for you to speak clearly. “Pregnant or not.”

Ralak chuckles.

“Is that right?” He speaks in an almost condescending tone, hurriedly tugging down your loincloth just enough to get access to your cunt. Without warning, he bends his knees a little to align your pelvises and then shoves his cock between your slickened, warm folds. “Oh tanhì, you are soaked.” His voice quiets down into a hushed whisper, “All from sucking my cock?”

A mewl splits your lips just as all the blood rushes to your face, staining it a bright pink. Your pussy clenches around nothingness only causing more of your slick to ooze on his cock. Your breath turns shaky, tail swishing wildly behind you. You can’t move even if you wanted to. He’s got you pinned down, quickly reminding you of his strength. And had it not been for his hand on your abdomen you would be completely plastered to the wall and taken on his terms.

“Tsk-tsk…Have you no shame?” Ralak tuts, holding you still. “Or must I give you a lesson on self-restraint?”

Despite his cockiness you can sense the urgency in his body language and in his voice. You can feel it in the way his hips stutter, as his cock slides back and forth between your pussy lips. His own desperation. The desire to be inside you. The need for release.

“Go on then, karyu.” You moan softly, causing his grip on you to loosen for a millisecond. Hearing that name brings a feeling of nostalgia. Of lust. You push back into him, your slippery hole trying to suck him inside with a few quick movements of your pelvis. “But I know you’ve been desperate… desperate to fuck your numeyu.”

“Oh, little one.” His chuckle is dark and depraved, his protective hand stiffening as if he were preparing it for what's to come. “Yet you are trying your hardest to take me inside you.” He licks your ear lobe to tip, whispering, “so cute.”

“Fnawe’tu [coward].” You mutter under your breath, steadying your feet to ground yourself.

Ralaks ears flicker and stand tall, then immediately lay flat to his head—his brow cocking in astonishment. His smirk grows wider, the heat in his chest spreading to his extremities. Now that pushes him over the edge.

“Say that again, numeyu.” He challenges you in a growl, angling his hips so his weeping cockhead prods at your entrance. He ensures not to let the buck of his hips win, keeping you empty and yearning.

“Haah… afraid to take what’s yours.” You purr, rising to the tips of your toes to try sink him inside you. “Fnawe’tu—”

Smack.

The sound of his swollen balls making contact with your puffy clit is almost as loud as your broken gasp. You smile open mouthed as he holds his position balls deep inside you, firmly pressing the tip of his cock into your cervix. He’s grinding his back teeth, digging his chin into your shoulder to quell the rumble of his chest from how tight you’re squeezing his cock.

You whine from the fullness of him stuffed inside your cunt, his unmoving hips sending a clear message of dominance. He’s hunched over you, body weight pinning you mercilessly against the wall, hand over your womb to keep your unborn safe—as promised. Still being gentle enough.

But you want him to lose it.

To fuck into you like he were in rut again. To use your pussy like a fucktoy to satiate his own greed and self pleasure. He deserves that much, for being such a competent and loving man to you. Yet it seems the only way to bring that out of him is to play dirty.

“Fnawe’tu [coward].” You repeat shakily.

Smack.

Another deep and hard thrust into your sloppy cunt. He lets loose the rumble in his chest this time, bearing his canines and putting most of his weight on you now. Lips pressed tightly together, your whimper is muffled and outright pathetic, pinched brows giving away the pleasure rippling through you. Still, he remains unmoving, undeniably making it clear who has the most leverage here. But that doesn’t really matter to you—you’re getting what you want, one way or another.

Right?

“Voìk si, little one [behave].” Ralak hisses, fighting the inner conflict within him.

“Haa—” Your laugh that follows is a little sinister, open mouthed and smug. Hands pressing into the wall you push off its surface, sinking him deeper inside you. “No.”

“Alright.” His voice is husky, thick with confidence and temperance.

With a rough, quick tug, his cock slips out of you with a squelch, hanging freely between his legs. Your slick mixed with his precum slowly dribbling off his tip and onto the floor between your pointed feet. You fall to the flat of your feet, panting and whining from the sudden emptiness.

“W-Wait.” You squeak, hastily getting back on the tips of your toes to stuff him inside you again. “Please.”

“What was that?” Ralak asks, voiced feigned with innocence. “A little louder.”

“Please.” You barely whisper, backing up on him.

“Come now, tanhì.” His hand slips from your hip to grip his cock. Giving it a few strokes he teases your cunt with his cockhead and you instinctively shimmy down. Hips snapping back to prevent you from taking him inside, he dips his head so his mouth is next to your ear and husks, “You can do better than that.”

“Please!” You moan loudly in desperation, reaching down to your knees to unfetter yourself from your tewng [loincloth].

“Please, what?” Ralak spits the last word through pursed lips, ready to give you exactly what you want if you just ask for it nicely.

“Please put it back inside.” You beg pathetically, finally getting the knot of your tewng undone. “Please, fuck me.”

“Ahh, there’s my good girl.” Ralak praises you with a grin, sinking his cock into your warmth at a leisurely pace. His breathing stutters for every inch that penetrates you. “Was that so hard?”

“Fuck.” You moan in relief, spreading your legs wider. He’s tamed you and he knows it. “No.”

“No…?” Ralak says it like a question, hissing when he bottoms out in your cunt.

“No, karyu.” You answer coyly, voice faltering from the pressure of his cockhead pushing into your cervix.

“Agh—haah” Ralak lets out a gruff grunt in response, his hips now snapping back and forth out of his control. He’s huffing and puffing next to your ear, pumping his cock in and out of you in a frenzy of need. Swollen balls repeatedly slapping against your clit, it’s almost impossible to hold back the gurgled noises escaping your throat.

“Fuck—so—fuckin’—deep—fuck.” The curses are punched out of you as he relentlessly smacks into you again and again.

“Lì’fyaz [language.]” Ralak chides in a growl, hand slipping down to pull back the hood of your clit—taut.

The continuous sting of your clit has your legs shaking and the way his cockhead is repeatedly stimulating your sweet spot has your eyes rolling back into your head. It’s almost too much all at once yet you yearn for more. Your cunt clamps down around him, especially when the tension becomes so tight you feel your stomach double-knot. Ralak hums when you tighten around him, only making him rut harder into you.

Pulling back, he glances down at you sucking him in, your tail curled tight to your back and his cock plunging in and out of your pussy. He can see just how tight you are as your pussy walls grip his girth mercilessly. And with the protective hand on your abdomen, he can feel each thrust against the palm of his hand. It makes his chest swell with pride—

You carry his child yet still take him so well.

“Oeÿa tsantu [my good girl]” Ralak slips into his native tongue, panting in an accent as thick as tree sap. “Oeÿa numeyutsyìp [my little student]”

Ralaks cock heats up inside you, heating your core along with it. It’s the same familiar sensation you feel before he provides you with your release. The feeling that keeps your eyes squeezed shut and breath shallow. He knows your close and slows his thrusts like he usually does, fucking you a little harder rather than faster, angling his pelvis so he’s right in your swelling g-spot.

Your hands fly behind you, grasping at whatever’s available as your orgasm washes through you. You gush all over your thighs, cum dribbling down your legs to your feet, some spattering on Ralak as he fucks and holds you through your high. It’s sudden and uncontrollable, leaving you sputtering out nonsense and your legs shaking violently beneath you.

“There it is. Good muntxate [wife].” Ralak huffs with a smirk, relishing in the quick, feverish flutter of your cunt on his cock. His voice is shaky from his uneven rhythm now that he can finally allow himself to finish too. “Love—hng—when you cum for me, you—ahh, haah—know that?”

He begins grinding to you, shoving you further into the wall as he focuses on his own climax. He uses his feet to kick your legs closed, and pulls out of you, stuffing himself between your thighs. He’s groaning and growling, hunched over you with bent knees and flushed, flattened ears. Skin slapping against skin, he humps at your thighs, thick cock sliding back and forth over your still pulsing clit.

His cockhead continuously pokes out between your folds, tip oozing and oozing with precum. Both his hands fly to your hips, gripping them with force as his thrusts become almost violent. You struggle to keep yourself standing as his hips smack into you repeatedly, your body jolting with each thrust. He gives you one last, harsh thrust, holding you still against him as you feel his cock throb wildly between your thighs. You look down to see his huge load shoot out in thick, white ropes. He’s grumbling behind you, giving your thighs an extra few uncontrollable thrusts as he peaks in his high.

Finally you fall to the flat of your feet, his arms instantly snaking around your waist to support your weight entirely.

“I told you no taunting, tanhì.” He’s referring to the time he opened up about his first rut, “Next time, you ask nicely. Tslam? [Understand?]” Ralak says breathlessly.

“Sran, oeÿa karyu. tslolam. [Yes, my teacher. I understand].” You blubber, fucked out and jaded.

——

2K notes · View notes

bratbby333 · 6 months ago

Note

I got some thoughts 👀 can I request a little something? like reader finds herself in a situation where a guy is disrespectful to her and Geto steps in to defend her... she would be so relieved like 'thank you so much tall and beautiful stranger' 😍🥰 and he's probably like 'don't worry about it, it's whatever' but in the end he offers to walk her home and he fucks her against the wall things happen 😳😳

`⭐︎ ˑ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ YOUR GUARDIAN STRANGER ! — feat. suguru geto

word count. 3.6k content warnings. characters are 21+, fem!reader x suguru, mentions of blood, allusions to violence, reader gets hit on and grabbed in the club, alcohol consumption, p in v, unprotected sex, use of pet names, dirty talk, thigh-riding, sugu fucks hard, one night stand, the pull-out method, non-curse!au author notes. thank you for ur ingenious request my sweet nonnie...i hope you enjoy xx not beta read !!

nsfw 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 mdni

A skin-tight dress. Four inch heels. Dark lip liner with a clear gloss on top. A few spritzes of Chanel No. 5, and you are out the door and heading to the club.

Everything is great; good vibes, strong drinks, pounding 808s reverberating off the walls. The liquor warms your stomach as your hips sway to the music, your over-worked body relaxing with every bump of the heavy bass. You take in the scene around you; drunk couples making out in the corner, a few underage kids getting thrown out, a group of friends arguing over god knows what– it’s all very entertaining. You laugh to yourself, your eyes scanning the room once more before your vision settles on the one thing you were trying to avoid. Shit. Your heart drops. Really? Did he not catch the hint the last two times? You sigh deeply, rolling your eyes as you prepare yourself for the inevitable. Not this again.

Because, of course, all good things must come to an end.

You're used to being hit on. But tonight, there is one guy in particular, unrelenting in his attempts to get close to you. He's shorter than average, the two of you being the same height when you're in heels. He reeks of liquor, cigarettes, and BO. His fringe clings to his forehead as he approaches you for the third time this evening, a disgusting smirk plastered across his face. He seems to have mistaken your accidental eye contact as an invitation to test his luck once more. With tense shoulders and an apprehensive tone, you offer him polite conversation. Not that you want to, but god forbid you reject him in just the right way to make him snap. You don't want to end up being a headline. Your eyes dart elsewhere, knowing damn well that if you look at him for too long you might gag. He is truly disgusting, rambling on and on about his podcast and his most recent bouts of buying and trading crypto.

It's a tough situation to navigate. You're out alone. Granted, you are at a club that you're comfortable in; you're familiar with the layout, you're friends with a few of the waitresses and bartenders. The DJ knows you by name. But, you're still riding solo in a loud, rambunctious environment. Even though there is a level of comfort here, it's still a club filled with drunkards at the end of the day.

With a fake smile and a couple nods of your head, you try to ignore the part of the conversation where he referred to himself as an “alpha male” as you accept the drink he presents to you, kindly excusing yourself before disappearing into the crowd once more.

A shudder runs down your spine, your body quite literally trying to shake away that awful conversation. God, he’s the worst. On your way to the dance floor, you pour the contents of the cup into the soil of a potted plant. He doesn't think you're stupid, does he? There is no way in hell you're drinking that shit.

You're dancing alone, enjoying the house mix that's bumping through the giant speakers, the colorful spotlights that bounce around your face as you feel yourself begin to relax once more. Finally, some much needed alone time. All you want is to let loose after an arduous week of working. Can't a girl have some peace?

"C'mon...just give me a chance." You don't even have to turn around to see who it is, you can smell him. Your nose scrunches up before you turn to face him, another fake smile pulling at your cheeks as you speak to him for the fourth time tonight.

"I'm sorry, but I'm just not looking for anythin'...I'm just tryna have fun," you say politely, before beginning to walk away. If you just keep moving through the crowd, he won't be able to find you again. But this guy is annoyingly determined and obnoxiously entitled, because after one step away from him, his hand grabs at your wrist, "We can have fun! C'mon...seriously?! I bought you a drink and this is how you treat me?"

As soon as the contact is made, your blood boils. Rage runs through your body as you spin around to chew him out for A, assuming some smelly asshole like him has a chance with you; B, for even thinking he could touch you, and C, the absolute nerve of this man to actually follow through with it.

But when you turn, you realize you can't see him anymore. Your eye line is obstructed by a broad, muscular back. Utterly confused, you step to the side in order to fully see what the hell is going on. The sweaty hand that was once wrapped around your forearm is now gripped by a large fist. Your eyes trail up to your savior, a damningly handsome man with jet-black hair.

"Do we have a problem?" a stern voice addresses the musty, shorter guy.

"Yeah, this chick's been flirting with me all night...I'm tryna get what I'm owed," he spits back, attempting to pull his wrist away, "Dude, let go...stop bein' a cockblock." The mystery man's face twists at the other's bold choice in words. You're shocked that he doesn't feel intimidated at all.

"What you're owed?" A deep chuckle emerges from the unknown’s chest as he stares down at him. "I dunno...it seems like she wants nothing to do with you," he muses, tightening his grip around the other’s arm.

He turns to address you, and you finally get to take a good look at him. His side-profile is god-like, but looking at him straight on is a whole different realm of attractiveness. The man's fucking gorgeous. You're too busy ogling him that you miss his question all together.

"S-sorry...what did you say?" You shake your head a bit, adrenaline pumping through your ears from this entire ordeal, the expensive scent of his cologne mixing with the pounding bass of the club; it's all making your head spin.

He laughs and leans down to your level, his head hovering just next to your ear. "You want me to get rid of him for ya?" he repeats, his breath brushing against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. He pulls back, looking down at you with his grip still tight around the other guy's arm. The pathetic man is squirming as the two of you share quite the intimate eye contact. You nod, your mouth dropping open as he drags him out of the club immediately.

You let out a deep sigh before making your way to the bathroom. You lather up your hands with soap and do your best to scrub away the feeling of that man's skin on yours. Leaning up against the sink, you take a few deep breaths before fixing your hair and reapplying your lipgloss. That man is vile, but you're not going to let that gross interaction ruin your night.

You make your way to the bar, keeping your head on a swivel in hopes to see your handsome rescuer once more, wanting to thank him for handling that for you. You pout a bit as you fail to see him on your trek, sighing as you place your order with the bartender.

You take a few sips before turning to walk back toward the dance floor, when you literally run straight into someone. "Fuck! I am so sorry, I-" but then you smell it, the same entrancing cologne as before. You look up and are met with a devious grin on the most angelic face you've ever seen. You smile, pushing your hair from your eyes, "I was looking for you." You sound relieved as the two of you stare at one another.

"Were you now?" he asks coyly, shifting his weight as he smirks down at you. You nod shyly, "Mhm...I-I wanted to thank you for earlier," you take another sip of your cocktail, hoping it will calm your nerves a bit, "I appreciate you stepping in, that guy couldn't catcha fuckin' hint," you laugh, looking away.

"Don't mention it. It's the least I could do," he responds. "I'm Suguru, by the way."

Turning to face him once more, you tell him your name with a kind smile. As the two of you make small talk, you notice his chest is heaving a bit, and with a quirk of your brow, you run your eyes down his body, realizing that his knuckles are bruised and slightly bloody.

"Oh...oh my god. Are you alright?" you ask, grabbing his hand. You bring his fist up to inspect it, the dim lights of the club not offering you much assistance. "Oh, yeah," he laughs, rotating his wrist so you can examine it further, "the blood's not mine," he grins. A laugh escapes you as you gaze up at him, still holding his hand in yours.

"Damn...you really did a number on him, huh?" Suguru laughs at this.

"Absolutely, he deserved it. Dude was a prick. I'm really sorry that happened to you," he sympathizes, watching as you grab napkins and a shot of vodka from the bar to wipe off the dried blood from his knuckles.

"It's alright, I'm used to it by now, but having someone step in and save me was definitely a first." He releases a jagged exhale as you pour the liquor over the small abrasions on his hand, "Sorry...gotta disinfect you. That dude was gross...I had to go scrub my arm off after he touched me," you giggle. He watches intently as you finish cleaning him up, his heart skipping a beat as you smile up at him triumphantly. You are quite the woman, cunning and confident. He likes that.

"There ya go," you chirp, before tossing the reddened napkins into the garbage can located nearby. His eyes run across your face and up and down your body, taking in every part of you. Poor thing. Though you seem so unbothered by that whole situation, there is a telling look behind your eyes, and Suguru notes that you are still a little shaken up. He would be crazy to let you wander back out there alone.

"Do you want to come hang with my friends? I promise they won't pester you like that dude did," he offers. He nods toward the booths that line the wall. "That's them over there; Shoko and Satoru." You follow his eye line, seeing a brunette woman accompanied by a blue-eyed man. They seem to be about your age, and you love meeting new people. You smile and agree, thanking him once more as the two of you make your way over to the table.

The rest of your night is spent laughing and dancing with the three of them. You learn that they all work for the high school across town, and that Shoko can really handle her liquor; Satoru cannot. You and Suguru are in your own world, chatting about everything and nothing, taking breaks to dance together when a good song comes on. His hands rest on your waist as you move your hips against him, your bodies fitting like you are made for one another. Suguru, being the gentleman he is, never pushes any further than that, allowing you to initiate the contact.

It's 2 AM when the four of you stumble out of the club, the tall blond leaning on his smaller friend's shoulders as she guides him toward the taxi. It's quite the amusing sight.

You stop short of the curb, wishing Satoru and Shoko a good night, before turning to Suguru. "Thank you again…for everything," you say, your voice raspier than usual from all the shouting you did inside the loud club.

"Of course. I'm just glad we got to spend some more time together," he says with a smile, ushering you toward the taxi. He's confused when you shake your head.

"I live like three blocks from here, I'm just gonna walk," you state. "It was really nice meeting you, you were great company," you smirk, heading down the road, your heels clacking against the pavement with every step.

A few unintelligible words are exchanged between Suguru and the taxi driver, followed by a car door slamming shut, before the sound of someone jogging catches up to you.

"You're crazy if you think I'm gonna let you walk home alone," he retorts, pushing you toward the inside of the sidewalk as he walks closest to the cars that pass by.

"You're quite the gentleman, aren't you," you tease, pushing your shoulder into his. He chuckles, "Can you blame me? I see a beautiful woman in distress, I have to jump in." You blush at his compliment.

"My knight in...," you pause as you run your eyes down his body, "...jeans and a black tee," you giggle. After sharing a few laughs, silence settles between the two of you as the cool air swirls around you. The occasional car passes by, but other than that, it's a quiet evening.

You glance at Suguru through your peripherals, enjoying the way his layered hair bounces with every step he takes. His cologne, though more subtle now, still wafts toward your nose. He really is beautiful. You wonder if it'd be too bold to see if he wants to continue your evening.

You walk toward the door to your apartment, turning to face him. It's now or never.

"You comin'?" You ask with a raise of your brow. He chuckles as he climbs the stairs, joining you by your side, "Thought you'd never ask."

You have never been into one night stands, but something about Suguru is irresistible. Whether it's because he saved you from that creep or because he is super fucking sexy, you know you need him. Now. The two of you barely made it through the doorway as you’re pushing him up against the wall of your foyer, your lips immediately finding his.

He's taken aback by your boldness, taking a second to register his surroundings before quickly flipping the two of you around, his hands cupping either side of your face as his knee wedges between your legs. His muscular thigh is pressed directly onto your core, the pressure sending waves through your body.

“Couldn’t even make it to the bed, huh?” he husks into your ear, placing a wet kiss on the sensitive skin below, nipping and sucking at it. Soft moans echo through the hallway as Suguru finds your lips once more, your tongues battling one another. You thrust your hips, rubbing your warmth against his leg. “Eager, are we?” he teases, lifting his leg more.

“Mmm…mhm,” you gasp as the contact intensifies. You’re already addicted to him, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside you. You grind your hips harder, pressing your drenched cunt firmly against his clothed thigh, certain that he can feel your pussy throbbing against him, the tightness in your stomach intensifying. Your cheeks fluster at how quickly he’s getting you to your breaking point without even having to do anything.

He breaks the kiss, watching intently as your hips gyrate against him. “Shit…are you gonna cum?” The tone of his voice is taunting, yet laced with desire. The sight of you using him to get off has him rock hard. You blush immediately, tilting your head away from him. You nod shyly, though your hips continue their pattern. “So fuckin’ hot,” his hand wraps around your throat, your head tilting to rest against the wall. “Uh uh, don’t get shy now…look at me.” Through low lids, you meet his gaze. His lower lip is between his teeth as he glances between your face and your cunt rubbing against his thigh. With a desperate whimper, you pick up the pace. “C’mon…that’s it–cum for me,” he growls, entranced by the fluid motion of your body. You come undone just a few minutes later with a whine and a few moans of his name. Your cum soaks through your panties and a guttural moan breaks through his chest as he watches you finish. “Fuckin’ drenchin’ me already, huh?” You blush profusely, your eyes screwed tight as embarrassment courses through you.

You yelp as he flips you around, your chest now pressed against the wall, your legs parallel with your shoulders. “All that cum ‘n I wasn’t even inside you yet…” He unbuckles his belt, shoving his pants and boxers down just enough to free his throbbing erection, “...can’t wait to see how much you cream on my cock.” You whimper at the filthy words that shamelessly fall from Suguru’s lips as he pulls your dress up and drags your panties down your legs. You aren’t much help, small pants leaving your chest as your body recovers from your unexpectedly intense orgasm. His lips part as he teases his thick tip along your slit, lubing himself with your cum. “You ready, doll?” His head shallowly dips in and out of your needy cunt, already loving the way you stretch for him. You hum, nodding profusely as you look over your shoulder. “Mm. Mhm…p-please fuck me,” you beg. Your words feel foreign to you as you say them, unsure of where all this submissiveness was coming from. But Suguru’s effortlessly domineering aura makes you want to bend to his every whim, to please him in any way that you can.

Inch by inch, he’s delving into you. The warmth of your dribbling cunt sucking him, the squelching sounds ricocheting through his head, the sinful moans that break through your throat–it drives him wild. He growls as your back arches, pushing him even deeper. Your ass flush against his lower abdomen, your eyes blowing wide at the damning stretch of his full length nestled deep inside you.

He stays still for a moment, allowing you time to accommodate as your gushy walls flutter around him. The pace starts slow, but Suguru’s patience wears thin, and after a few strokes he’s ramming into you, one hand wrapped around the front of your throat, the other pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail as he bounces you on his cock. The scratches that should be left on the tanned flesh of his toned back are being dragged down your beige walls, your breasts rubbing against the cold plaster with every rough thrust of his hips, the sensation stimulating your budding nipples.

Every bump of his hips pushes his head into your sweet spot, his length caressing every part of you with ease. “Takin’ me so well,” he grunts as he rams into your furthest wall. You can’t suppress the cock-drunk whines that spill from you, your eyes welling with tears while delirious pleasure claws its way through your body, your tummy tightening as you clench around him. Your shoulders tense as your perch on your tiptoes, opening yourself up to take more of him–if that is even possible–praying he finds refuge within your womb. “Shit–” he hisses, his words nearly incoherent as the sound of skin against skin echoes through the hallway, “fuckin’ milkin’ me, doll.”

He releases your throat, the same hand trailing down your spine before his arm snakes around you, his nimble fingers strumming delicious circles against your throbbing clit. You cry out, eyes screwing shut as your legs shake. “Fuck…oh fuuuck–ahh! Gonna…’m gonna…” Your voice trails off, any semblance of a coherent thought cast to the wayside as a deep chuckle rumbles through his chest. Suguru leans down, kissing behind your ear before biting at your lobe. “I know,” he muses, his fingers work even faster against you, “Squeezin’ me s’tight…”, his hips shifting to push himself even deeper, “...C’mon. Make a mess ‘f me.” You reach your breaking point once more, lips parting as squirt spills out around his cock and dribbles down your thighs.

His release follows suit with a few raspy swears and sultry mumbles of your name. He pulls out, working his fist around his cock, his hot seed shooting onto your ass and lower back. Suguru places soft pecks along your neck and shoulders, working to regain his breath. He catches you as he untangles his body from yours, chuckling at the evident exhaustion of your body while your knees buckle, unable to support your own body weight as you lean against the wall.

After tucking himself away and a speedy rebuckle of his belt, he scoops you up in his arms, carrying you bridal style to your bed, setting you down on your plush duvet.

“Bathroom?” he asks. Your brows furrow before you comprehend his question, still dazed from the spell he cast on you. With a weak flick of your wrist, you gesture toward the closed door to your left. You watch with tired eyes as he returns with a damp rag, his soft touches along your weary body juxtaposing the meanness of his strokes as he mindfully cleans you up. With a quick kiss on your cheek and a soft mumble of “you were wonderful” into your ear, he smiles down at you before beginning to exit the bedroom. It’s crazy–insane, even–how much you want him around. You must be out of your mind…this near stranger—the fact that you even let him in your house is wild, let alone asking him to stay the night? But you want him to, so bad. There’s just something about him.

You sit upright, ignoring the ache in your lower back and the morality of your choices, your question flying from your lips before your brain can stop it. “Wait…can you stay?” Your words are soft as they drift through the air. He stops just short of the door, before turning and offering you a knowing smile, “I thought you’d never ask.”

author notes. certified sugu glazer…what can i say. i just cannot get enough of him ugh.

i’m still workin thru all my requests, i appreciate yalls patience w me 🤍

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sarahowritesostucky · 7 months ago

Text

Happy Little Family

📖"Taking Back What's His"

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6170

Tags: dark!Bucky, mafia/mob au, dubcon/noncon, a/b/o, threats and coercion, rape, forced pregnancy, forced domestic "bliss", yandere, kid fic

Summary: You thought you'd left behind the man who turned out to be more dangerous than you'd ever imagined. But one day he walks back into your life and reminds you that, come hell or high water, you're all going to be one happy. little. family.

This chapter: You try one last, desperate ploy to escape, but it doesn't exactly work out. And James hasn't come alone. The next time you wake up, you're a long way from home.

Nickname Dictionary: vorishka = "little thief" mamochka = "mommy/little mother" kotenok= "kitty/kitten" omegya = (made up) Russian spelling of omega omegechka = (made up) "little omega" krasotka = "Pretty(n.)/pretty one" pchelka = "little bee"

2. Taking Back What's His

(Wait! I haven't read part 1 yet!)

He says something to you, after. Words that might as well be in his native Russian, for how well you take them in. But they're soft, and reassuring—he’s pleased. His body weight moves off the bed.

When you finally open your eyes and blink up at the ceiling, it’s the softest baby pink all around the edges, like smoke curling into your vision. It’s nice, peaceful. Feels good-all-over in that way that painkillers do. You haven’t experienced it since the last time you had sex with an alpha.

Which James unfortunately seems to have figured out was with him, almost two years ago.

“Oh, kotenok, You haven’t been fucking anybody.”

You’re still in the afterglow, mind muzzy, all of your previous panic and fear blunted near to the point of erasure with how nice it feels to float, when you hear James’ pleased chuckle from where he’s getting dressed. He comes back and leans over you. “Hey Sweetheart. Feeling good?”

You frown at him, though it takes a concerted effort to make any expression of displeasure. You want him to know you aren’t happy, that this state he’s fucked you into isn’t real. You want to slap that smug fucking look right off his face. All you manage to come up with is a pouty little “no" that makes James laugh.

“Come here.” He fixes your dress, then helps you up off the bed. He seems to be checking to make sure you’re steady on your feet before he lets you stand on your own. “You good?”

“M’fine.” He knows you too well, knows how intense it can be for you, how strongly you react to him. You avoid his knowing gaze. You’re not completely useless like this. You can still remember everything that’s going on, can still remember June. “Please,” you say again, trying to change the tone of your voice. “Let me give her to Hilde.”

James rolls his eyes. “Right, right. Your friend across the street.”

“Please James?” You look up at him, pink edges all around his face, so pretty. Goddamn him. “She’ll be safe there.”

Again, something passes through his eyes too quickly for you to identify. It might be annoyance. He sighs, and the look, whatever it was, is gone. “Sure thing, Doll. Babies need a lot of stuff. You might as well pack up what she needs.”

You nod tearfully, going to your closet to grab a bag. He follows close behind, sending a clear message that he’s not planning on letting you out of his sights while you do this. James isn’t stupid, you’ll give him that.

In the nursery, June is happy to see you and wants you to pick her up. You talk to her in a sweet, placating voice as you go around the room grabbing different things that she’ll need and stuffing them in the bag. At this point you know to be grateful for the haze. Even as it tapers off, it’s blunting the sorrow that you know would otherwise have you sobbing and your voice clogging with tears. This way at least, you’re able to keep June thinking everything is alright. This way she isn’t scared.

It’s when you’re crouched beside the changing table, stuffing diapers into the bag with James behind you that you get the idea: Downstairs: the kitchen: in the drawer. Your gun.

You stop moving long enough that James notices. “What’re you doing? Come on.”

You stand back up. Yes. You have to do it. This is the only chance you have at getting out of this and not losing June. You lick your lips nervously before turning back around to face him. “I … have to get her bottles and stuff from downstairs,” you say, hoping that the lingering post-coital haze is enough to keep your true intentions off your face. Your eyes flick up to James, who’s squinting at your tits.

“Bottle?” He starts to smirk, and you glare at him.

“Yes. Asshole. I won’t exactly be around to feed her, now will I?”

His face softens at that and he gives you an apologetic look. “Right. Well go on, then.”

You move for the hallway, realize he’s not following you, and turn back in confusion. He’s beside the crib, holding his hand out for June to touch. Your heart leaps from your spot in the doorway. “What are you doing?”

He arches an eyebrow. “I’m waiting right here until you come back upstairs,” he says, his message clear.

Your pulse picks up, but you force yourself to nod. You’re useless without that gun. You have to get to it. He narrows his eyes at you while June giggles and reaches for his wiggling fingers. “No games.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, and turn and head for the stairs.

It’s pure torture to move at a casual speed, especially as your mind is clearing and the fearful emotions returning. In the downstairs hallway, you check once over your shoulder that James hasn’t followed you, then pick up your pace, hurrying into the kitchen and heading straight for the drawer where you keep the gun.

Your eyes tear up as you maneuver past the digital lock that you installed for nothing. June’s still crawling. She never even got old enough to toddle over here. You press the code into the keypad, cringing when it does its quiet little two-tone ‘beep’ at being unlocked. You wait, heart in your throat until you hear the mechanism moving, then rip open the drawer.

Your heart stops and your brain freezes and all you can think is: No. No, no no—

“Looking for this?”

You whirl around, and there he is: standing on the other side of the kitchen, leaning against the sink as he holds your only weapon in his hands.

His face is relaxed, Goddamn him, as he pretends to ignore your horror and instead holds the gun up to flippantly inspect it. “I have to say, Doll, I’m impressed. I would’ve expected some puny girl gun. Ruger, Derringer. But this?” He turns the Skorpion in his hands, and chuckles softly when he sees the cartridge. “Jesus. You really wanted to blow a hole in somebody, didn’t you?” His eyes finally drag up to you, the hand he’s holding the gun with dropping down by his side as he starts walking over, slowly, step by step, eyes boring into you with a growing anger.

Oh shit. Dread curls in your gut but you’re frozen. Bolting now wouldn’t even get you to the staircase. He presses in close, pinning you against the countertop. He brings the gun up and nudges your jaw with it, leaning in and breathing in your face, “Did you really think I wouldn’t find it, vorishka?”[little thief]

He’s taunting you with your own failure, and you can’t stop the whimper that breaks from your throat at having your one and only plan foiled so pathetically easily. “James,” you plead, “I didn’t—”

“Shh sh sh. None of that, now.” He’s speaking softly, sweetly, but he’s furious. He drags his lips over your cheek and the barrel of the gun you stole from him over the other. “So what was the plan? How were you going to kill me with my own gun? Pop upstairs and shoot up the nursery?”

“N-no.”

“Ah. Right. You’re smarter than that. You would’ve waited for me to come down and see what the fuck was taking you so long, or put it in the duffle and waited until we dropped the whelp off at the neighbors. Is that it?"

You sniffle and nod, angry at him for being such an all-knowing asshole. “You can’t hold that against me,” you say, trying to defend yourself.

He nods thoughtfully. “Hmm. Yes, I suppose you’re right. I can’t blame you for that.” Your shoulders start to relax, that is until he pulls back to glare at you and holds the gun to you again, this time pointing it right underneath your chin. He looks angrier than you’ve ever seen him. “But do you know what I can hold against you, Little thief?” Your face pinches in fear, sure that you’re about to be shot, and he digs the muzzle cruelly into your skin, forcing you to look at him. “The fact that that pup up there is ten months old, and I’ve never even fucking seen her.”

Your eyes widen as you realize: he knows. You open your mouth to say something, anything, but he beats you to it.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t be able to tell she’s mine?”

“James,”

“All this time!” he hisses, hurt lancing through his features. “You kept her from me! What gives you the right?”

“I—I didn’t—”

He growls and pushes away from you, several steps back, glaring. “Nothing, is the answer you’re looking for. You had no right to do that.”

You try to edge to the side, but freeze when he straightens his arm and points the gun right at you. “James, wait …”

He aims it at your face, but then lowers it for a center mass shot, which is what really convinces you you’re about to die. “Say goodbye, mamochka,” he says, with steely eyes and his finger curling over the trigger.

It’s a submachine gun that fires in three shot bursts, or fully automatic. Either way, you know you’re about to be riddled with bullets, so you start to hyperventilate. It’s an embarrassing reaction, but at least you have the dignity of knowing what your last words on this earth would’ve been. “Don’t hurt her,” you gasp.

His eyes fill with rage and he pulls the trigger.

… Nothing happens, but you’re bracing so hard that it takes you a full two or three seconds to realize it. Then, when you do realize it, and you see James standing there looking grim but completely unsurprised that you haven’t been shot, all of the breath rushes out of your lungs. You feel like you’re about to faint, which is apparently what he’s waiting for.

He ejects the empty magazine, shaking his head in disbelief. “You really thought I’d do it, didn’t you?” He takes a step forward, but pauses when you flinch back. “What the hell have you convinced yourself that I am?”

You step back again when he moves. “Don’t,” you whisper. “Don’t.”

“Don’t, don’t,” he whispers, mocking you. “Don’t what? Don’t take back what’s mine? The mother of my pup? A pup I didn’t get to see grow or come into this world?” Your breath hitches with emotion and he doesn’t miss it, the bastard. “Yeah,” he says darkly. “You robbed me of that. But I’ll get over it, don’t worry.” He leers up and down your body in its flimsy sundress. “I’ll be putting another one in you real soon.”

You see red. Fury sweeps through you and stings your eyes, roars in your ears. You grab the nearest thing to you, which is the edge of the utensils crock on the counter. It spills over and your hand closes around the handle of the meat mallet. You cry out and swing at him, wanting to smash his smug fucking face to smithereens.

“Woah-ho, easy there.” He laughs and takes a surprised step back, as though you’re nothing but a tantruming child. “Stop being so dramatic.”

You growl and lunge for him again, but cut off in a shriek as someone suddenly grabs you from behind. The meat mallet clatters to the floor as you’re hauled back against the hard body of another man. One big arm wraps around your middle, and the other holds a cloth up at your face, pressing it over your mouth. “Mmph!” you yell out, muffled, and get a huge inhale of chlorine-like smell into your lungs for your trouble. You hold your breath and thrash, but it’s less than useless. The person holding you is large and strong. When you try to headbutt him, it doesn't even clip his chin. You bring your hands up to try and claw at the hand holding the cloth over your mouth, but your nails meet metal instead of skin, and you gasp in another inhale of chemicals as you realize who it is. “Mmph!”

James steps up close, smirking fondly as he watches you fighting the urge to inhale. Eventually he tuts and reaches up to cup your cheek. “Shhh, omegechka. Stop. Stop fighting now. It’s all over.”

“Nngh!”

“Just take a deep breath and go to sleep. Everything’ll be alright, I promise. Just relax.” You whimper as you feel yourself running out of air, knowing that your body’s going to force you to draw breath in a second. James leans in and kisses your forehead tenderly. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispers, just as your vision starts to fade out, “or our daughter.”

The smell of professionally scented, circulating air hits you first, and then the taste of old pennies in your mouth. Then, a gradually increasing sense of awareness of your body in space and time. At first you think you're somewhere very bright, as colors and rainbows dance through your lashes, but the more you blink your eyes open, the more the brightness fades and your vision comes into focus.

And there he is: holding a crystal tumbler and looking like he's been waiting for you to come round. "Well hello there, Sleepyhead,” he says. “Welcome back." He takes a sip of whatever it is he’s drinking, the ice cubes clinking softly against the sides of the glass. He looks totally relaxed.

You sit up straighter in the seat where you’d been slumped, moving your tongue around inside of your dry mouth and trying to remember what happened. And then reality hits you in waves, each one more devastating than the last:

James—He found you.

June—She's not there.

"How're you feeling? Thirsty?"

You blink, dazed, a few lingering specks still floating at the edges of your vision. You look around the room you’re in, clocking your surroundings. Windows, cabin—Shit. You're already on a plane. Pressure builds rapidly at the backs of your eyes as you fight not to cry, thinking of your baby girl left behind, never getting to see her again.

You didn’t even get to say goodbye.

Bucky’s eyes sharpen on you when your stifled sob breaks out and you throw a hand over your mouth. "Steve,” he says, still watching you in concern. “Get her a bottle of water."

“Sure thing, boss.”

And then the worst realization of all: You look over and see the winter fucking soldier walking down the aisle, holding your baby.

They've got June.

Your eyes widen and you make a distressed little ‘meep’ of a sound. “Steve!” you blurt, and he turns to face you. He looks surprised that you’ve spoken directly to him. He’s not wearing his usual black mask, but he still looks huge and intimidating, and it’s like seeing a wild animal right next to your baby—dangerous, wrong. Your mouth works uselessly as you stare at his hands on June’s body: one supporting her head, and the metal one scooped under her butt. You see her back rise and fall steadily through her bumblebee onesie and you realize that she’s asleep. “I-is she okay?” you ask, heart in your throat.

Steve’s eyes narrow at you, but he nods curtly. “She’s fine.”

Across from you, James scoffs, drawing your attention back to him. “He’s going to put her down. There’s a crib in the back. She’ll be fine,” he says, when he sees you stiffen in protest. “You and I have some catching up to do, vorishka.”

“I thought we did that back in my bedroom,” you snap.

“You still want the water?” Steve asks.

“That’s okay.” Bucky keeps his eyes on you. “I’ll take care of her. You just stay back there with pchelka while she sleeps.”

Steve nods, and you can’t help yourself. “Wait! Please. Please give her to me. Steve?” You sit forward with your arms outstretched, but can only watch helplessly as the other man obeys Bucky and ignores you, disappearing back into the next section of the plane. Bastard never did like you.

“She’ll be fine,” Bucky assures you. “Just sit back and relax. We won’t be in the air for too long.”

You hate it, but you do sit back in the chair. James won’t hurt her. You know that. Especially now that you know he knows. You look around the cabin, taking in the wide, leather seats and gleaming wood finishes. There’s a couch, tv, a bar. A fucking electric fireplace. It's the sort of luxury you used to go starry-eyed over; incredibly rich men, fat or old or ugly, tripping all over themselves to spoil you.

… Only, James was never any of those things.

“This is your plane?” you ask, dragging your hand over the arm of your seat.

James smirks. “What? You thought I’d kidnap you and then fly commercial?”

You purse your lips at his joke. “I guess not.” You relax back, trying to get your bearings. It is bad news that you’re already on a plane with him. You’ll be landing at his private airstrip at the Siberia compound, which gives you no middle ground to run. You bite your lip as your thoughts race and you try to think of anything you might be able to do once you get to—

“Stop it,” James says quietly, drawing your attention back to him. He’s giving you a stern look. “You barely got away before, and that was on your own. Now we’ve got our daughter. Anything you try will put her in unnecessary danger and you know that.” He shakes his head, some of that sadness from before creeping back into his eyes. “You’re not leaving me again, omegechka.”

“I’m not?” you echo, stuck in place by his stare, by the memories you share with him, and the fear you have of what he’s planning for your punishment. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m just taking back what’s mine, Sweetheart. You do realize that?” You fail to answer him and his gaze hardens just a little bit. “That’s okay. You’ll see it eventually. This isn’t a bad thing. If you had just stuck around a little longer instead of lying to me and running off, then you would’ve seen it before, and we wouldn’t have to be going through this right now.” He raises his drink to you in a little salute. “You, me, and pchelka? We’re going to be a family.”

You don’t refuse the water he gives you, or the drink that he mixes for you, after. If James wanted to keep you drugged up until reaching Siberia, he certainly could’ve done so without allowing you to wake up on the plane. You’re only conscious right now because he wants you to be. And because you know that, you don’t protest the drink he prepares for you over at the bar. To be honest, a stiff one actually sounds really good right about now.

“Thank you,” you murmur as he hands it over, still unmoored by this drastic shift in circumstances. A few hours ago you’d been safe in your cottage, then suddenly you weren’t. One minute you’re sure you’re about to get a bullet in the face from this man, and the next, he’s got you sipping thousand dollar vodka on his private jet, calmly explaining how he intends to keep you and force you into some twisted form of domestic bliss.

“I had a whole renovation done for her,” he tells you. “Pchelka will have plenty of room to play and grow.”

You frown, hating the idea of your daughter growing up in that cold, Siberian fortress. You don’t care if he’s bought her an indoor waterslide and a herd of ponies. It’s no place for a child. “What does that mean?” you ask grumpily. “That word: chelk—? You keep using it. You can’t just rename my daughter.”

Hurt flashes in his eyes, but he wipes it away fast. “Pchelka means little bee. The outfit you put her in has bees on it.”

“Oh … Right.” You love that set. It’d been another gift at the shower, from Hilde.

“And she’s my daughter too,” James says tightly.

You gulp at the bitterness in his tone, at his eyes boring into you with reproach. It’s silly, but you do feel bad about hurting him in this one way, at least. “Her name is June,” you offer quietly.

His face draws tight with emotion that’s impossible for you to decipher. Mostly you just sense hurt coming off of him, tingeing his scent and making it into something mournful and awful. He stares at you for a long time. “You made me think you’d lost it,” he eventually whispers. “How could you do that to me?”

You shake your head. “I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not. You’re just sorry that I found you.”

“I saw you kill people, James!” you cry. “I saw who you really are. I couldn’t stay. Not after that.”

His mouth ticks up at the corners. “Oh, Sweetheart. You’ve got no idea who I am, or what I’ve done for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

His eyes gleam and he lifts his drink, tipping back the last of it. “Do you even remember where we met?”

You frown. “Of course.” You’d met him on a yacht, off the coast of Greece. At a party you’d been paid to attend as one of a flock of similarly hired ‘pretty girls’. Five hundred bucks just to sit around and drink cocktails for a few hours and make whoever owned the yacht look like a successful playboy. James had taken one look at you and made it his mission to charm you off of that boat with him. And you’d fallen for it, hook line and sinker. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“You don’t know as much as you think you do,” he says disdainfully. “Don’t know how lucky you really are. I saved you.”

You scoff. “You’re no different from those boat guys. You think you’re so special, God’s gift to omegas, I get it.”

“No,” he grits. “You really don’t.”

“Don’t tell me what I don’t know! I know what I saw. All over the floor of your goddamn office. I slipped in it for Christ’s sake!”

“Right, right. The men you saw me kill,” he says, referencing the scene you’d walked in on just before you’d faked your miscarriage and fled. “You were eavesdropping outside the door, weren’t you, Little thief?”

You jut your chin out. “Yes. So what?”

“You know, I’d always assumed you heard the entire conversation. Now I realize I was wrong.”

“What?”

He laughs under his breath—at your expense, you suspect. “Who exactly do you think they were?”

“Your business associates. The same sort of underworld, black market scum as you. Only they didn't work for you. You screwed them over and they were there to collect what you owed them, and you murdered them instead.”

James scoffs and smiles angrily, sticking his tongue into his cheek as he looks away in frustration. "Figures," he mutters.

“What?” you snap. “You’re gonna deny it?”

“I’m not denying anything. But I killed them for you.”

“Oh please. Just stop it. Stop lying! I know what you do for work.”

Granted, you'd been a little slow on the uptake back then, too enamored and swept up in the whirlwind romance with your first Alpha that you hadn’t ever stopped to wonder where his money came from, or where it was he jetted off to “on business” every few days. It’d taken a year for you to piece it together, to see the true magnitude of the enterprise he ran, and how dark it really was.

Sitting in front of you now, he doesn’t deny it, which only bolsters your disdain for him. “I don’t want that in my life,” you hiss. “Arms dealing, drugs, smuggling, mercenaries. And apparently human trafficking as well.”

His eyes flash. “They don’t call it that, you know. It’s called the ‘skin trade’.”

“I don’t care.”

He gets up to go pour himself another drink at the bar. “Right,” he snaps, like you’re an idiot. “You’re so fucking naïve, krasotka [pretty (n.)]. So convinced that I’m the devil. But you have no idea how much worse it could’ve been for you.”

“You threatened to sell your own daughter before you figured out she was yours!”

Refusing to be provoked, he returns to stand right in front of you, forcing you to look up at him towering over you. “I knew she was mine from the second I walked in that house,” he says, making your breath catch.

“How?”

He smiles nastily and takes a sip from his drink, then sets it aside. He leans over you with his hands on the back of your seat, caging you in. You can smell the expensive alcohol on his breath as he gets in your face and tells you, “I put that baby in you, moya omegya. She’s a part of me. You think I wouldn’t be able to figure that out? Think an Alpha doesn’t know the scent of his own flesh and blood?”

You tense, fighting not to shrink away. “You’re making that up.”

He chuckles lowly and puts his face right next to yours, cheek to cheek, savoring your reaction. “Sweetheart,” he purrs, “I may not have forced a mating bite on you back then like I should have, but there are other ways to leave your mark on someone.” He dips in to kiss your neck, right over your unbitten glands. “I found you by your scent,” he whispers. “Sniffed you out.”

You shiver at his hot breath on your skin and the deadly soft tone of his voice. The way your body responds to him isn’t anything you can control, and he knows that, but it still makes you flush with embarrassment when he takes a deep inhale in the bend of your neck and hums with satisfaction when he smells the effect he’s had on you. “I wouldn’t have sold her anyway,” he tells you, pulling back and picking up his drink. “I want you to know that. I don’t participate in the skin trade.”

You swallow thickly, watching him watch you as he waits for you to react to him in some way. You don’t know why you believe him about this one thing, but you do. “But you’re aware of it,” you say. “You know it happens, and you don’t do anything to stop it.”

His jaw works in frustration. “I’ve interfered a time or two, when I could get away with it.”

“Well, aren't you a hero.”

“I didn’t say that,” he snaps. “I said I’ve done what little I could. These men make a lot of money dealing in omegas, and they don’t take kindly to being stolen from.”

“I can imagine.”

“No,” he mutters into his drink. “You really can’t.”

There’s something oddly bitter in his tone, like he's working hard not to tell you something. You bite your lip and watch him for a minute. “... How much?” you ask.

“What?” His eyes darken when he figures out what you’re asking. “No.”

“Tell me.”

“It depends,” he grits, glaring at you. "Now cut it out."

Sober, you might have; but half a vodka spritzer after nineteen months of no alcohol has you bolder than you usually would be. You look down at yourself, feigning flippancy. “Well what about me? How much would I go for?”

“Kotenok,” he warns lowly, growling when you continue to press him with a snotty little,

“Come on, I thought you were such a dangerous criminal? You can’t even discuss a little human trafficking with the weak omega you just trafficked?”

He probably knows you’re trying to antagonize him, but he still rises to the bait. He sits back and lets his eyes drag over your body in a way that makes your pulse pick up. “Well,” he drawls, “you just had a baby. So that’s less right there.” Your nostrils flare angrily and he gives you a look. “You’re the one who asked,” he reminds, waiting until you give him a nod to continue. He gives you another onceover, this time lingering in certain places longer, a softer look in his eyes for the softer parts of your body. He almost seems to get distracted. He catches himself overindulging and looks away, like it’s hurting him to consider you this way. “Most people want their omegas untouched,” he says quietly. “Especially if the buyer's alpha, which they usually are. It’s an instinctual thing for us. We’re very driven to possess. We don’t like to share.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” you mutter.

His gaze snaps back to you, a painful amount of familiarity in his eyes. “You’dve been a couple million, back when we first met.”

Your eyes widen. You weren't expecting that. “But … I wasn’t even a virgin.”

He arches an eyebrow. “I said untouched, not virginal. Not in that way. Alpha buyers want unbonded and never bred, first and foremost.” He leers at you. “Not that there aren’t some who’ll pay a little extra to pop a girl’s cherry. But that’s not the main thing they’re looking for, when they buy.”

You scowl. “Right. So I guess I’m damaged goods now."

“Oh no, mamochka,” he says seriously. “You’ve only gone up in value in my eyes. Though believe me when I say I’m more than happy to contribute to the depletion of your market value." He raises his glass to his lips, looking darkly pleased. “You’re not for sale, and you never will be. You’re mine.”

You're embarrassed to be the one to break eye contact first, but you can’t keep listening to him talk about how much he likes you and watching him look at you like you’re his most prized possession. With any other man you’d just be disgusted, but James has always had a knack for getting you flustered, and he knows it. There’s always been an inexplicable pull between the two of you, and he knows that, too. It’s the main reason why you've always refused his attempts to bond you. You're terrified of what it’ll be like after, since you already know how pathetically helpless you are around him without a bond.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” you mumble quietly. “Where is it?”

“Just down there.” He nods in the direction behind you, opposite from where Steve had gone with June.

You press your lips together and get up without looking at him, but you can feel his eyes on you the entire time you’re walking away.

“Don’t take too long in there, kotenok,” he purrs from back in his seat. “Or I’ll have to come in after you.”

In the bathroom, you splash water on your face and lean against the sink, looking at the girl staring back at you in the mirror. You blink, and she blinks, but it feels like you’re looking at another person, someone you don’t know. She looks fragile. Tired, and dazed. June’s been sleeping through the night for months, but it’s been a hell of a day.

You scrutinize your reflection, smoothing your dress and tucking your hair behind your ears, thinking about how you have zero makeup on. Then you scoff at yourself for caring what you look like in front of him. You think about how much you’ve changed in the seventeen months since you ran away. Not just physically, but mentally. You’ve had to be so strong. For June, for yourself. It’s been awful, and lonely, and you’ve hated yourself for not being able to stop missing him.

You sniffle and splash more water on your face, grumpily thinking that postpartum hormones are so much worse than the pregnancy ones. You grab the towel off the wall, but freeze when you bring it up to pat your face dry and get a smell of it.

Oh.

You whimper, unable to keep from pressing it harder to your mouth and nose and inhaling deeply. It’s James’ scent, and it smells so good. It smells like Safety and Love and Alpha. You hear the sound of your own, needy mewl and you gasp, yanking the towel away from your face and tossing it into the sink, trying to keep your shit together. You brace your hands on the counter and glare at your reflection to tell her to stop it, stop it, stop it, but all it takes is seeing your lower lip quiver, and soon your entire face is collapsing in long-repressed sadness. You turn away from the mirror with a pathetic noise, throat aching from the urge to keen.

Why does this have to be happening?! You’ve tried so hard, for so long. To be strong for June, to get over him, to move on! You bury your face in your hands and choke on a wrenching sob. You know you have to be quiet, have to stop, have to pull yourself together before he—

A soft knock comes from outside the bathroom. “Doll?”

You whine and hastily search for a lock on the door, but there is none, and James hears your crying and pulls the door open. “Honey,” he mourns when he sees you. “What’s wrong?”

You push past him, hurrying in the direction he isn’t blocking. “Leave me alone!” you cry, hating the blubbering in your voice that makes you sound just as weak as James thinks you are. You arrive in a perfectly made up bedroom with no point of egress other than the one you arrived through. You whine in distress, circle around helplessly, and then throw yourself onto the bed when he arrives at the doorway looking worried. “Leave me alone!” you cry, curling onto your side and pulling one of the pillows down to bury your face in. At least it isn’t suffused with James’ scent. You still cry though, unable to keep it in anymore now that you’ve started.

He tuts sadly from the doorway and comes into the room slowly. He stands there for a long minute, silent, before he sighs and his weight comes onto the bed. “Sweetheart,” he says.

“Just leave me alone,” you whine miserably. “Go away!”

“Shh sh sh.” He curls up behind you, arms around your waist and legs pushing in behind yours. He kisses your shoulder and hugs you, but it only makes you cry harder at how achingly familiar it is. “It’s okay,” he murmurs between kisses. He doesn’t try to get you to stop crying, or ask you what’s wrong. He seems to know exactly why you’re breaking down, and he simply devotes all his efforts to helping you calm down in your own time. “S’okay, s’okay. Everything’s gonna be okay,” he keeps saying, soothing you with a deep rumble in his chest. “I’ve got you, Sweetheart. I’ve got you now. It’s all gonna be okay. Shhh.”

At first, his placating makes you angry, but not enough to stop your crying, and once that tapers off from sobs to quiet, sniffling tears, you can’t seem to dredge up the anger anymore. It isn’t there.

“You feeling a little better?” he asks kindly, gently tucking your hair behind your ear and then hugging you again.

You whine when you feel his lips against your neck. “I’m fine,” you rasp, voice coming out scratchy from all of the crying. You cringe and scrub your face into the pillow in embarrassment. “Just got a little sad.”

“Yeah,” he agrees quietly, giving you a supportive squeeze. “That’s okay.”

You hate how he says it, because it’s obvious that he knows why you were crying: Poor, sad little omega, bawling her eyes out over how much she’s missed her Alpha. He nuzzles into your neck, telling you it’s okay and that you’re allowed to cry. As much as you hate him being able to see into you so easily, you’re just grateful that he isn’t rubbing your face in it right now. The way he's holding you and comforting you feels good. You don’t fight to get away from him.

The two of you lie there together for what feels like a long time. Once you’ve stopped crying and are only giving the occasional sniffle for your runny nose, he goes back to running his hand over your side. It’s a gesture of comfort. He’s not groping you, but even still, you blush at the vulnerability of it. You find yourself glad that you’re facing away from him.

The plane shifts noticeably, and James’ hand pauses on your hip. “Pilot said we’re landing soon,” he murmurs. “Should probably go and get pchelka up.”

You sniffle and fight off the urge of resurfacing tears at hearing him reference June. One day of knowing his daughter and already he’s got a nickname for her. You should be annoyed by that, but instead it just makes your heart squeeze with emotion. “Pchelka,” you whisper, trying out the word.

“Yeah.” He hums happily and kisses your shoulder one last time. “Little bee. Come on. Let’s go.”

You don’t think about how it’s far too soon to have arrived at your destination, until you’re back in the main room of the cabin on the way to where Steve disappeared with June, earlier. You pause at the windows, peering out at the landscape. “This isn’t Russia,” you say, confused. The plane is definitely descending, but you’ve only been in the air for a few hours at most. “James?” you ask, as he comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. Together, you both look out at the looming mountains and turquoise waters below. “Where are we?” you breathe.

James rests his chin on your shoulder and sighs happily. “Home,” he says. “We’re home.”

A.N.: See? Much less Rapey! Plenty more mega-dub con to come though, so don't you angst-lovers worry. Thanks for reading!💖Sarah

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edenesth · 10 months ago

Text

The Way to His Heart [9]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 4.2k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 8 | Fic Masterlist | Part 10

Standing in front of the door to your former prison, all your insecurities came rushing back. Suddenly, your newfound identity seemed to evaporate, leaving you feeling like nothing more than a shell of your past self.

"What's wrong, my dear? Why do you keep staring at this storeroom, hm? You know you can tell me anything." Seonghwa asked in a gentle voice, sensing that you were far from okay. He cupped your cheek tenderly, urging you to meet his gaze.

Jongho and Eunsook stood anxiously behind you, waiting for you to reveal the truth to the general. Only then could they finally bring your family to justice for their misdeeds. The weight of everyone's expectations rested on your shoulders.

Please, mistress, just say it, and we will handle the rest.

No matter how hard your husband tried to capture your attention, all you could see was beyond his shoulder, where your family glowered at you. All the determination you had to confront your family diminished, and you were reminded of your true self.

Just a worthless, insignificant piece.

You felt undeserving of Seonghwa's love, too ashamed to confess that this pitiful excuse for a room was where you had spent your entire caged childhood. Would he still want you as his wife if he discovered the truth?

"Come on, my dear. Talk to me, please." The general leaned in, attempting to dominate your field of vision. He didn't like how you kept glancing nervously back at your family as if still afraid of what they could do to you.

Your husband's heart shattered as he gazed once more into your vacant, hopeless eyes. It felt as if he could never truly connect with you. Once again, he found himself lost, unable to reach you. It became clear that your biggest obstacle wasn't trusting him; it was trusting yourself. Despite all his efforts, your insecurities persisted.

Bringing you back to this place seemed like a colossal mistake, undoing all the progress you had made. The words Hongjoong had spoken to you were now pushed to the recesses of your mind, overshadowed by your demons.

Seonghwa's stomach sank when you averted your gaze, blinking your wet eyes with a shake of your head, "Nothing, it's nothing. I... I'm sorry, I don't know why I kept looking here; it's just an old storeroom, as you can see." Your family collectively sighed in relief, narrowly avoiding exposure. For once, they felt slightly thankful to you for not ratting them out.

Of course, it couldn't have been this easy.

Despite the internal frustration, the general flashed a reassuring smile down at you. His plan had crumbled, and you didn't speak up as he had hoped. The head maid and assistant couldn't conceal their disappointment at the missed opportunity.

Casting a glance at his assistant to silently acknowledge the failure of the plan, he squeezed your trembling hand, "It's alright, nothing to be sorry about. Well, if that is all, perhaps we can begin discussing the wedding arrangements then."

Minister Jang immediately brightened, "Of course, let us get on with it. I'm sure we have much to discuss."

With a subtle shake of his head, Jongho signalled to the private investigator that the plan wasn't unfolding as expected. Noticing the exchanged glances, your father raised an eyebrow, "Wooyoung, do you and the general's assistant know each other?"

Both froze momentarily, cursing inwardly at their lack of caution. The fake servant beamed innocently at the minister, "Oh yes, master! I thought he looked familiar; turns out we were from the same village!"

The assistant nodded along quickly with a wide smile, "Yes, what a small world."

Fortunately, the fabricated story seemed convincing, and your father nodded without suspicion, "Huh, what are the odds? Just don't let me catch you slacking off. If you want to catch up, do it after work."

Wooyoung grinned quickly, "Yes, master!" before bowing deeply. Glancing at the general for approval, he was relieved to see Seonghwa nodding lightly, silently expressing 'good job'. His heart raced, still finding it surreal that he was looking at his role model up close and being acknowledged.

Resettling into the main hall, your husband couldn't hide his concern for you. He maintained a firm grip on your hand, a constant reminder of his presence and an attempt to provide comfort despite your lack of reaction to anything. Eunsook, noting your distress, made a point to stay close behind you, silently assuring you of her support.

"Alright then, where should we begin?" Minister Jang clapped his hands together, eager to get it all over with as soon as possible.

Seated opposite you, your three sisters were still seething, their attention fixed on the general's unwavering touch on you. Refusing to concede defeat, they were determined to fight for Seonghwa, unwilling to witness you marrying their dream man in a grand wedding ceremony. He was too good for you.

She doesn't deserve him.

Before the two men could delve into any details, Jinhee, tired of her sisters always being a step ahead, seized the opportunity to speak up, "General Park, I believe I would make a better wife than unnie ever could. I urge you to change your mind and consider choosing me."

Jinah and Jinjoo scowled, feeling a sense of betrayal as they hadn't anticipated the sudden spiritedness from their middle sister. She had always been the calmest among the three. It appeared that the allure of the general was potent enough to pit them against each other for the first time.

The minister smacked a hand on his face in disbelief, growing tired of his stepdaughter's obnoxious behaviour. Just as he opened his mouth to reprimand her, the other two chimed in loudly, "No, I'd make a better wife!" before glaring at each other.

Pressing a kiss onto your knuckles to rile them up, your husband stared at the girls with an amused grin, "Really? Do you think you'd make a better wife? Why don't you each tell me why you think so? I'll consider it."

It was apparent that the general was merely toying with them, but the three were oblivious and engaged in a heated debate among themselves, striving to convince Seonghwa that each of them would make the ideal wife for him.

Meanwhile, you silently accepted your fate, believing that your husband was present to entertain the idea of replacing you with one of your stepsisters. If that's what he desired, who were you to object? You considered yourself fortunate to have been sent to him, and now that he had seen your sisters, perhaps he sought someone better than your useless self.

The general burst into a fit of vicious laughter, singling out the middle sister who promptly straightened up, "You," he pointed, "it seems like you have the most convincing argument. I suppose that makes you the most suitable for me, doesn't it?"

Jinhee vigorously nodded, "Yes, my lord!"

With a sly smile, he continued, "Very well, I'll consider marrying you, but on one condition that your father must agree to," Her eyes widened in excitement while her sisters clenched their fists in frustration, dissatisfied with her being chosen, "Anything! Just name it, and you shall have it!"

"If Minister Jang agrees to retire from his position and let me take over, then I guess I'll think about it."

Your father heaved a deep sigh, frowning at the foolish girl in irritation, "That's enough, Jinhee. Are you even hearing yourself? None of that will ever happen. I'm sure the general is only joking around."

Her stubbornness prevailed as she continued to press, "Father, this is for my happiness! If you loved me, you would agree to that!"

Even her own mother, finally sober enough, shook her head disapprovingly, "Stop it, Jinhee. Do you know what it would mean for the rest of us if your father were to retire?"

Having enjoyed the comedic display, Seonghwa chuckled darkly, "Your father's right; I was only playing with you. After all, I couldn't possibly marry you, even if he had agreed to that condition."

"Why is that?!" She questioned, still determined to have him for herself. She hated the sight of him cradling your hand; it should be her beside him. She had gotten so close to having him earlier that she refused to let the opportunity slip away so quickly.

For some reason, the minister couldn't shake off the ominous feeling he was getting from your husband's smugness. Something wasn't right; this felt oddly like a trap.

In a mock-innocent voice, the general answered, "Isn't it simple? Because you're not even Minister Jang's legitimate daughter; you do realise you're merely his stepdaughter, right?"

Your father and stepmother's eyes immediately widened, knowing exactly where this was going. Before they could do anything to stop it, Jinhee yelled out, "But I am father's real daughter!"

Gotcha, bitch.

Jongho and Eunsook did their best to suppress the growing grins on their faces, relieved that at least their master's plan B seemed to have worked out. During the assistant's time away from the estate, working with Wooyoung, they had managed to confirm the general's suspicions about the three being Minister Jang's actual daughters.

This revelation itself was enough to bring him down, as the three were born when your mother was still alive. And if they were, in fact, his, that would mean he had been disloyal to his wife and had fathered bastard children outside. This was more than enough to tarnish his reputation for good.

Rising abruptly from his seat, the minister cleared his throat loudly, "General Park, please don't take her words seriously. Clearly, she only said that out of desperation. The girl is still young and doesn't know when to stop; do not mind her. Come, let us take our discussion somewhere else."

"Save it, minister. If she isn't your daughter, where would she have gotten the confidence to voice that out loud? Don't make me laugh." Seonghwa retorted coldly.

Finally, you lifted your head to stare at the old man upon hearing the revelation. Could it be true? You didn't know if it was supposed to make you feel any better, but you used to question why your father had treated you so badly when you were his only real daughter. Now, it would make more sense, at least.

Scoffing, Minister Jang clenched his fists, "I would advise you to be careful with your words, general. After all, it wouldn't be too wise of you to slander your father-in-law and superior so carelessly like that. What would His Majesty think of you being unfilial and disrespectful to me?"

If your father thought that threat could save him, he was wrong; it seemed he was only digging himself a deeper grave.

The general peered amusingly at him through his lashes, "You know, it's really funny you should say that. Would it still be considered slander if I had evidence to back up my claims? Oh, minister, you should not have brought the King into this. He was already so disappointed in you when he learned of the truth about you and your dirty deeds throughout the years."

"Wh-what do you mean by that?" The minister stammered, visibly trembling in his spot, and his family could only sit back with terror in their eyes, not knowing what your husband had uncovered.

"Minister Jang, did you really think the King had allowed me to come here just to make wedding arrangements with you? I'd rather burn in hell than have you host my wedding, especially after what you had done to my wife in all the years she had been under your care. I'm only here for your confession, under His Majesty's orders."

A series of gasps rang across the hall as your stepmother and stepsisters froze in their seats, the realisation finally hitting them that they had been under scrutiny this whole time. It became apparent since the minister's suspicious behaviour at the assembly.

Little did everyone know that Seonghwa's investigative work had been funded by the King himself the entire time. The two had shared a deep conversation after the assembly; what initially started off as idle chatter regarding the general's new wife transitioned into a serious discussion as your husband revealed what he discovered about the minister thanks to your arrival.

Your eyes widened at Seonghwa's words, wondering if he had known all along about what had happened to you. Feeling your gaze on him, he turned to face you with a soft smile, "I told you I'd protect you."

Feeling your heart flutter and eyes tearing up with tears of relief, you finally squeezed his hand back, "Thank you, Seonghwa."

Cutting your moment short, your father shook his head in denial, "You're lying. Nice try, General Park. I'm not falling for your trick. If you were telling the truth, why would His Majesty have bothered to send you here when he could have just arrested me?"

Turning back to face the old man, your husband smirked, "Now, where would all the fun be in that? Of course, I didn't expect you to admit everything to me so easily. It was fun watching all of you panic in front of the so-called storeroom earlier. I hope you enjoyed the temporary relief, courtesy of my lovely wife. Someone, bring the minister a chair before we start recounting all the interesting things he's done so far."

Jongho was more than happy to help, "Yes, sir!" He promptly moved a chair to the centre of the hall where the minister stood before returning to his position behind his master.

Your stepmother and stepsisters remained glued to their seats, hearts filled with dread. Jinhee regretted her every action immediately, not that it made much difference. They were already doomed from the moment they delivered you to him.

"Will you not sit, Minister Jang?" Seonghwa teased, and when the old man glared at him, he shrugged, unbothered, "Suit yourself. Let us begin then."

The general stretched a waiting hand in his assistant's direction and waited as the younger man fished a few documents out from his pockets, "Here you go, sir."

"Alright, let's see, where should we start?"

With a devilish grin, your husband flipped through the pages, addressing the minister, "So, were you denying that these three are your biological daughters? Not to worry, I have just the thing to prove it. See, we have their birth certificates and the fake ones you forged right here. You bribed your physician quite a bit for these, huh? Well, it seems the amount you paid was not nearly enough since he spilt everything to us so easily."

The minister's wife pointed a shaky finger at the papers in Seonghwa's hands, "Th-that's not possible. How did you get your hands on those documents?"

"Ah, so you admit these are yours?" The general raised a brow, "I get it; it's hard not to when the only copies to exist were found in your private quarters, hm? I'll have precious Wooyoung to thank for these. Come here, boy. You should be so proud of yourself."

"Thank you, my lord! I'll work harder!"

In front of the minister and his family, the mole finally unveiled himself. All five of them could only gape at the new employee who had recently joined the estate. They praised him for his work and even thought of him as a hard worker. Suddenly, it all made sense why he always seemed too eager to help around. He had been snooping around for the enemy all along.

Your father pointed accusingly at the fake staff member of his estate, "Y-you traitor—"

"How can he be a traitor when he was never on your side to begin with? Let's not change the subject, alright? Now, let us conclude the number of crimes you've committed here; first, you've cheated on your wife and had not only one but three illegitimate children outside of your home. I must say, minister, you're setting a horrible example for the married men in all of Joseon." Seonghwa shook his head in disapproval.

"Next, you've bribed your physician to silence him and then get him to further commit the crime of forging official documents for you. I guess this could have been understandable if it had been a silly little commoner not knowing any better, but my goodness, you are our nation's Minister of Military Affairs! What would the people think of us if they knew their leaders were this unethical?"

"And the worst of it all, you kept my wife caged in that pathetic excuse of a room all her life. You all had a hand in her suffering and abused her endlessly, all for your own entertainment. And what had she done that was so wrong to deserve any of that? Just because she was born from the wife you did not choose and love?" The general spat, feeling his heart ache and anger rise.

It was your turn to rub a thumb softly over his skin to remind him that you were fine now; you were loved and cared for, all because of him. He tightened his hold on your hand, vowing to get you justice.

"Can any of you even call yourselves human?" He growled, glaring at your family. Your stepsisters trembled, avoiding his death stare, feeling like complete idiots, especially after their stupid little innocent act earlier. Why did they even believe for a second that they could have fooled him?

With a deep breath, Seonghwa put on a sarcastic smile, "And with all of that, it should be enough for you to be stripped of your title and for your entire family to be demoted from a noble house to commoners."

The old man's knees went weak, and he ended up plopping into the chair Jongho had placed behind him. Clenching his fists, he shook his head again, "No, you can't do this to us. You can't do this to me. I've dedicated my life to this job and this country. I have contributed so much—"

Smirking, the general cut him off, "Why? Are you unsatisfied with this conclusion? I expected no less from you, you ungrateful bastard. Fine, I guess we'll have no choice but to dive deeper and talk about your most severe crime then."

There's... more?

Furrowing your brows, you wondered what other horrible things your father could have possibly done. Everything that your husband had already listed seemed like a lot to you.

Your stepmother gasped loudly, clutching onto her chest as she took in the general's wicked grin, "He knows..."

Jinah frowned, grabbing her mother's arm in confusion, "What is it? What does he know? What else has father done?" The other two sisters stared at their parents, who looked scared for their lives.

"Yes, I do know, Lady Jang. Did you really think the two of you could keep your dirty little secret hidden forever? As if adultery and illegal document forgery weren't bad enough, you were both audacious enough to commit murder against an innocent person."

Minister Jang and his wife shared a horrified glance, realising that the veil of secrecy they had meticulously woven was now unravelling before them. The colour drained from their faces, and beads of sweat formed on their foreheads.

The mistress of the Jang estate stammered in fear, "N-no, that's not true! You're making baseless accusations, General Park. We haven't committed any murder!"

The general remained unfazed, a cold stare fixed upon them, "Really? You haven't? Then tell me, why do the two of you seem so afraid? You weren't trembling with fear when you poisoned the first Lady Jang to death, and you certainly weren't afraid when you robbed my wife of her mother."

Staring at your father and stepmother in horror, a wave of disbelief crashed over you. The revelation hit like a tidal wave, leaving you stunned and paralysed. The people you thought were simply cruel for torturing you all your life had now revealed a more sinister truth – they were the reason you never knew your own mother.

The shock and betrayal etched across your face, your eyes locked onto theirs as the weight of their sins settled in. It wasn't just about the abuse and mistreatment; they had orchestrated a tragedy that deprived you of the one person who could have brought warmth and love into your life.

"And what evidence do you have to prove that?" The minister finally mustered the courage to challenge the accusations, still putting up a fight. His three daughters, nearly as shocked as you were by the revelation, couldn't fathom that their parents might have actually taken someone's life.

Seonghwa remained unyielding, maintaining his cold gaze, "Not to worry, I have it all right here." He gestured to the documents Wooyoung held, revealing a series of letters exchanged between the couple all those years ago detailing the best way to end someone's life and make it look like a natural death, as though they had succumbed to an ordinary illness.

"Isn't it an uncanny coincidence that the physician confessed to the first Lady Jang dying from mandrake poisoning, and simultaneously, there is an abundance of mandrake planted in your garden? Alongside these incriminating letters, everything aligns seamlessly. There's nothing you can say to undermine this evidence, minister. Would you care to explain your actions now?"

Minister Jang's face contorted with defiance and anger. He took a deep breath before finally admitting, "Fine, it's true. I did it; I killed that woman. But you have to understand; the first Lady Jang ruined my life. I never wanted to marry her in the first place. It was a political arrangement forced upon me to please her influential family. They held more power than I did at the time."

His eyes darted around, gauging the reactions of those present, especially his daughters, "I clawed my way up, working tirelessly to reach my position as Minister of Military Affairs. I didn't need her family anymore. So, I did her a favour – I ended her unhappy marriage and made room for the person I truly loved."

He looked at his current wife with a twisted sense of affection, completely ignoring the horrified expressions around him, "I had to make a choice for my own happiness. No one understands the sacrifices I've made for this family and for the sake of my love. It was the only way."

"If you hated my mother so much, why did you bother having me then?" You finally croaked, voice breaking as you choked back tears. Seonghwa pulled you close to him, never wanting you to go through any more pain alone.

Your father let out a scoff of displeasure, "I never wanted you. You were just another duty to please your mother's family. When she died, I refused to let any of them near you out of spite. You were a constant reminder of her, a spitting image that angered me every time I looked at you. That's why I hated you so much."

His admission hung heavily in the air, each word cutting through the silence like a knife. Your eyes, filled with sorrow, met his cold, callous gaze. Your husband tightened his hold on you, offering silent comfort as the painful truth unravelled.

"And there we have it, the confession His Majesty wanted. Royal Secretary Choi, did you manage to get all of that?" The general called out with a smirk.

To the minister's horror, the King's closest and most trusted aide emerged from the entrance, flanked by a team of royal guards, "I sure did, General Park. You've done well; we'll take it from here. His Majesty shall decide the Jang family's final sentencing."

« Preview of Part 10 »

As Eunsook followed her master's orders to assist you out of the hall and to the waiting carriage at once, your husband stayed behind to express gratitude to the dedicated private investigator.

"You've worked hard, Wooyoung. I assure you we will compensate you for your excellent performance. You didn't have to help us this far, but you did, and I appreciate it."

The younger man enthusiastically bowed, "It's my pleasure, sir! I'm a huge fan of yours; I think people don't appreciate you enough for defending our country! Those who think you are heartless are clearly mistaken. If only they'd seen you today. You are a wonderful husband, my lord. It's reassuring to know Lady Park has you."

Clearing his throat, the general looked away and fought the faint blush dusting his cheeks, "I'm glad you think so. I can only hope she thinks the same."

Wooyoung grinned, "I'm sure she does, my lord. I've seen how Lady Park looks at you; I can tell you mean a lot to her too," Seeing Jongho approaching to escort his master out, the informant bowed one final time, "It was an honour working for you, sir. Please don't hesitate to reach out if you ever need my services again!"

Seonghwa nodded appreciatively, "I'll keep that in mind."

Just as he turned to leave, the royal secretary came up to him, "Before you go, General Park, His Majesty wishes to meet you and Lady Park soon to discuss your actual wedding arrangements."

Nodding lightly, the general replied, "Got it, I'll see you then."

"Oh, and one last thing; I know you've both been through a lot, but the worst is over. I wish you and your wife happiness."

"Thank you, San."

Y'all I'm not even gonna lie, this part literally gave me a whole ass headache LMFAO I hope this felt satisfying enough! Of course, we still don't know what consequences the evil family are about to suffer muahaha😈

Also, the second mood board depicting the general's estate is out! Go take a look if you haven't already!

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

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#edenesth #the way to this heart #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #park seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #arranged marriage au #joseon era #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #ateez fic #historical au

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killerlookz · 1 month ago

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It Can't Be That Easy | Joost Klein- Heartbeat! AU

another prequel in the heartbeat! au (makes most sense if read last) description: a month after breaking up with Joost, resulting in you in a horrible slump, you finally had built yourself back enough again to go and have a fun night out, but when Joost shows up to the same party with a brand new girl, you find yourself falling apart all over again.

content: angst!!!! drinking, cheating, hurt with *some* comfort/fluff, ankle injury?, THIS FIC CONTAINS RPF AND HAS BEEN TAGGED AS SUCH, IF YOU'RE HERE YOU SEARCHED FOR IT!!!

word count: 7434

Julie's words go in one ear and immediately escape out the other, her voice nothing but a droning hum against the thumping bass that pours out of some expensive speaker system and the voices of a few dozen people. You stare blankly at your friend, your gaze more focused past her shoulder, eyes fixated on the blank wall behind her. Intoxication has obscured the world around you, everything is so blurry, and out of reach. You can't even make sense of your own thoughts, the wires in your brain crossed and confused. The only thing clear to you is the sharp pang of heartbreak, a defined ache that splits through you. If you hadn't been so otherwise numbed you could cry now, at least the liquor in some way had dulled your need for any bodily reactions to your emotions.

You hadn't left the house much since breaking up with Joost last month- it was only until now had you put yourself together enough to be out for a few hours. Julie had invited you to a party some mutual friend of a mutual friend was having, and you had thought it as the perfect time to finally get out of the house, and try to have a little fun instead of being so sad all the time. Clearly, you had been wrong, going out tonight had been way against your better judgement.

You didn't know her. The girl Joost had shown up with. Nonetheless she was beautiful- the type of pretty that makes you want to crawl into yourself and wonder why you even bothered to show your face in public. He'd walked in with his arm already wrapped firmly around her waist, allowing nobody to make the mistake of thinking she had just been a friend.

You could still feel his presence somewhere around you, the two of them all over each other undoubtably. Her presence immediately making you question if you had made the wrong decision in breaking up with Joost, looking fondly upon the times the two of you would go out together.

But perhaps him jumping into it with someone new so soon had only confirmed you had made the correct choice- the mere thought of getting with anybody any time soon makes your stomach churn.

"Do you know who she is?" Your words are slow, confused, tongue tied with intoxication as you cut off whatever Julie had been saying. Her facial expression twists, eyebrows furrowing, lips pursing.

"What?"

"That girl that uh Joost came in with." You lower your voice and shuffle your vision around as you say his name, like you're a child saying a bad word and trying not to get caught by your parents.

"Oh, babe-" Julie sighs, tilting her head to the side, voice drenched in sympathy. You'd appreciate it more if you hadn't actually been looking for an answer.

"You don't know her?" You ask, trying to ignore the emotional aspect of all this.

"I don't think you should worry abou-"

"Julie." You frown.

"I have no clue." She finally answers, "Maybe she's some tinder girl."

"She's pretty," You sigh.

"You're pretty." Julie smiles, "Too pretty to worry about some stupid boy." She reaches out her hands, placing them on your shoulders, shaking you gently, "Tonight is about you, girl. Have. Some. Fucking. Fun."

Julie lets go of you, causing you to stumble slightly, you blink a few times, your vision blurring.

"Woah," You chuckle, "Don't think I'm meant to be moving that much." You clench your jaw, biting back the motion-induced nausea that was crawling up on you. You inhale, speaking again before Julie can get a word out, "I think I'm- I'll be right back." You don't really think you'll be sick, but you figure better to be safe than sorry, making a disoriented journey around the house to try to find the restroom.

You finally happen upon the door, tucked in a long hallway on the other side of the house. You press your fingertips to its wooden surface, left slightly ajar, you push it open so you can step inside.

Your blood runs cold as soon as you get one foot in the doorway, head peering into the tiny bathroom, witnessing what you could only describe as probably your worst nightmare, next to maybe like getting buried alive, or being back in high school again.

Joost had had the girl he'd come with seated on the bathroom counter, as he stood between her thighs, her legs squeezed around him. He's bent down slightly as their lips interlock, her hands roaming his back.

You're frozen stiff for a moment, paralyzed by a mix of embarrassment and heartache. Time seems to slow down, the scene in front of you now playing out in slow motion.

The girl is the first to break away from this kiss, flinging her head back to get a look of whoever had just walked in on her. The girls sudden movement grabs Joost's attention, whipping his head around, eyes widening in pure mortification once his gaze locks with yours.

"Like I didn't already need to throw up," You mumble, trying to lift your feet from their rigid position on the ground. Thankfully time had never really slowed down, and you're able to get out of the bathroom just as quickly as you had stepped in, slamming the door behind you.

Your hands tremble as your brain comes to recognize what you had just seen. The liquor you had consumed no longer able to hinder your bodily responses, feeling the fierce sting of the tears brimming in your water line mixing with your eyeliner.

You're startled once more when the bathroom door flings open, Joost stepping out with the girl behind him, his movements halting when he realizes you were still right outside.

You're like a deer in headlights staring up at him, lips parted slightly, the rest of your body unable to move.

Joost seems equally as stunned,

"Hey," He hesitates before he pushes his lips into a straight line, flicking his head upward, like he was greeting 'one of his boys', "What's up." It wasn't an apt way to greet you, but then again what was?

"Hi," You barely whisper out, your voice snuffed out by the sob that was scratching its way up your throat.

The hallway is silent for a moment, the girl looking between the two of you, oblivious and confused.

"Do you two know each other?" She giggles, damn her, even her voice is pretty, her laugh so infectious if you had heard it in any other context it surely would have brightened your day. She has an accent you can't exactly pin- German, maybe.

"Yeah," Joost caughs, "Yeah-um- she-" He can't seem to get the right words out as his gaze anxiously shifts between the two of you, not wanting to say too much to her, but not wanting to downplay your existence.

"Well, why don't you introduce us, silly," She smiles, swatting her perfectly french-manicured nails as Joost's chest. Her voice rings in your ears, silly, her acute flirtation bringing you dangerously close to tasting what you had for dinner.

"Uh-Right," Joost nods, "Right." He clears his throat, suddenly standing much taller now, much more assured of himself. He struggles to smile, "Lina this is y/n," He gestures towards you before moving his heads towards her, "Y/n this is Lina," He pauses for a moment, "My girlfriend."

Girlfriend.

The word echos in your ear. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up and your muscles tense.

Girlfriend.

It had seemed so soon, too soon, in fact that if you weren't so certain of how well you knew Joost you would have assumed this relationship had started before you had broken up with him.

"Girlfriend?" You try to chuckle, but your emotion is apartment, and your throat is far too dry, a scoff escaping your mouth instead, "Joost you fucking dog." Your lips curl up in a cruel smile, attempting to play your words off like a joke, but you and him both know you mean exactly what you said.

You divert your attention to the girl you now know as Lina, eyes narrowing slightly, failing at hiding your new found contempt for this random girl you had just met, "Good luck with this one, girl." You scoff once more at the absurdity of the situation before nodding, speaking slower this time, "Good luck."

Lina furrows her eyebrows, batting her long, mascara coated lashes, parting pink-glossed lips, looking for the right words to say, obviously confused.

"Good luck?" She repeats back to you, dumbfounded, on the cusp of realizing that you were far more than someone that Joost had "just knew".

"Yeah," You shrug, "Dating musicians-you know how they can be." You don't look at Lina as you talk, your eyes trained dead on Joost, "But I'm sure you won't need it." You lighten up, feigning nice, not yet drunk enough to actually go through with ruining a potential relationship for Joost.

"Oh," She smiles, "Sure." You can tell she's not entirely buying into your act, "And," She tilts her head in pretend sympathy, "I am so sorry, you walked in on that! Joost is such an animal sometimes, he cannot keep his hands to himself."

"Don't I know it." You nod slowly, biting at the inside of your cheek. You take the following few moments of silence as your cue to leave, the tension in that small hallway becoming suffocating.

You hadn't thought it was possible for your mind to race any faster than it did when you had first seen Joost with Lina tonight, but now your earlier thoughts had felt like slow motion compared to now. Girlfriend, you couldn't get the way Joost had said it out of your head.

Thinking about Joost having sex with another girl was heartbreaking enough, but with the potential of romance mixed in you wonder how you'll ever recover from tonight.

"I still can't fucking believe him," Julie throws up her hands, her frustration levels just about hitting yours as the two of you sit on some couch in the living room, a few more drinks deep. "The audacity for him to cry in your arms and beg you to change your mind about breaking up with him, for him to just have some new girl a month later."

"Right!" Your eyes widen, holding your hands up in front of you, "Like it was really that easy?"

"I'm going to kill him," Julie rolls her eyes, "Bringing your rebound around your ex so soon after breaking up is such a pig move."

"Total pig move," You concur, you pause for a moment, looking around, "Do you think I could homewreck their relationship?"

"Stop!" Julie giggles, "Don't be evil."

"I mean she was evil first, with her 'sorry you had to see that-Joost can't keep his hands to himself' bullshit." You bring your voice up a few pitches, making it whiny and obnoxious as you, perhaps unfairly, mock this girl you didn't even know. Had she even meant anything by that? By now you're convinced, convinced she had it out for you, like she didn't just become aware of your existence 30 minutes ago.

"Ugh!" Julie scoffs, "They're both evil, they were meant for each other."

"Totally."

"But yeah you could totally do some home wrecking." She shrugs, "Not that he even deserves you to try."

She's right. What good would hopping back into bed with Joost serve you?

"Right." You serve Julie a tight-lipped smile, "Think m'gonna get another drink."

"I'll be here," A wide grin on her lips.

Standing up from the couch you notice just how drunk you really were, the ground below you suddenly feeling unstable, like you were on a ship during a vicious storm. You try your best to retain your balance, your high-heeled shoes betraying you with each step forward.

Perhaps another drink was a bad idea, blacking out didn't seem like the greatest way to end your night. But then again, right now anything seemed better than being emotionally burdened with the antics of your ex-boyfriend, even if it meant getting drunk past the point of no return.

One more drink couldn't hurt.

You didn't remember the kitchen being such a far walk away, feeling like you were fighting against the crowd, against the music, against yourself just to get there.

You don't think you have the stomach for another mixed drink in its entirety, instead, once you make it to the kitchen, you opt to fix yourself a shot of whatever cheap vodka had been left out on the counter. Shaky fingers grab the mostly-empty bottle, pouring the clear liquid into the plastic cup you had been carrying around with you for half the night.

It's a little more than a shot, maybe a lot more that winds up in the cup- who knows? Your brain wasn't exactly cut out for measuring right now.

You raise the lipstick-stained rim to your lips, tipping the cup back, the bitter taste of alcohol attacking your tongue, and burning its way down your throat. You set the cup back down on the counter with a fierce swing, the plastic crushing slightly under the force of your movement. Your eyes squeeze shut as your body floods with an uncomfortable warmth. You try to shake off the initial sting of the alcohol, leaning against the counter for a moment to get yourself back together.

You take a deep inhale in, preparing yourself for the walk back to Julie, your balance once against escaping you as you step away from the counter supporting your body.

You keep your eyes trained on the floor, watching your own movements so you can correct them if needed, ignoring the people that surround you. That strategy almost immediately proving to be not the right choice when your stomach collides with someone else's elbow. You stumble backwards, the sudden movement making you lose balance all together, your ankle buckling, giving out below you. You're able to keep yourself from falling over entirely, but not able to save yourself of the pain of your ankle rolling beneath you, a slight yelp escaping your lips as you falter, the hurt hitting you immediately.

"Holy shit watch where you're-" The person you had run into suddenly halts their chastising of you, a voice you could recognize anyways. Damn your luck- colliding into the person you wanted to see least or maybe most right now. "Fuck," Joost mutters, "Sorry." His tone suddenly changing when he realizes who had hit him, "Startled me." You notice the way his words slur slightly, apparently intoxicated too, though, clearly not to the degree you had been.

You don't bother to look at him, eyes still glued to your feet, trying to ignore the pain in your ankle.

"No, sorry." You mumble, "Was in your way." You're ready to run from the building screaming now, or at the very least flee the situation to go find Julie. You're about to walk away, putting one foot forward, your body weight balanced onto the ankle you had just rolled. If you had been sober you probably would have managed to walk on it, but it seemed impossible now. You wince as the pain shoots through your foot, head finally flicking up, allowing you to get a look at Joost.

Damn him, he looked good. It was almost dark enough that you could ignore the pink sheen on his lips, you'd recognized the color, Lina's lipgloss apparently. Though, the lighting did little to hide the rough purple patches on his neck, glaring, obvious, letting everyone know just what he had been up to before he came here.

"You okay?" He asks, looking down at your feet, surprisingly concerned for the situation.

"Mmm," You hum, trying to press your weight back on your injured ankle, face immediately twisting as the pain hits your nerves once more, "M'okay."

"You don't have to lie," He chuckles, he seems so nonchalant, way more than you are, you don't understand it, talking like there was barely any history between the two of you, "I'll help you to the couch."

"No." You say plainly, forgetting to think of anything to say after that, fuck. You stare blankly at Joost for a moment, brain reeling.

"This doesn't have to be weird, you know?" Joost shakes his head, clearly a little uncomfortable under your un-breaking eye contact.

"It's weird."

"You're making it weird." That was probably true, but the nature of the situation was weird, how could you not make it such?

"You're weird."

"Just let me help you to the couch." He sighs.

"Fine." You concede, "So patronizing." As sick as the sight of him was making you now, you knew there was something in you that wanted his help- for him to put his arm around you once more, for maybe the last time- and care enough to want to make sure you're in the least amount of pain possible.

"Come on," Joost says, extending his free arm, a beer bottle held tightly in his opposite hand.

As if you weren't dizzy enough, you could lose all consciousness when he touches you, his side pressed snuggly to yours, arm tightly around your torso, his grip is firm. The second his skin touches yours you're flooded with memories, brain clouded by all the good times the two of you had had. You missed this, the reassurance of his touch, the feeling of being close to someone.

"You good?"

"Yeah." You mumble, "Good." You're nowhere near it, on the verge of tears again, the alcohol no longer inhibiting your emotional reactions despite how much more inebriated you are now. You shouldn't have let him do this, shouldn't have let him this close knowing damn well you're not the one he's going home with tonight, and you never again will you be.

"Good."

You begin your short walk over to the couch, trying to step as lightly as you can on your injured ankle each time you bring it forward.

"If it hurts too much I can carry you," Joost chuckles. Again, so nonchalant, like there's no implications behind that, like that wouldn't completely and utterly fuck with your feelings.

"No," Focusing more on your destination so you can finally get off your aching ankle.

Julie seemed to have disappeared off somewhere, her I'll be here statement clearly not meaning much. Not that you didn't expect as much, she'd have a habit of wandering when drunk.

"Thanks," you say shortly to Joost once you reach the couch, wiggling out of his grasp, as much as you don't want to.

You expect him to turn around and leave, but he doesn't, instead he sits himself on the couch, patting the cushion next to him, beckoning you to sit.

You're hesitant, looking down at him for a moment before deciding to sit. You're an awkward distance apart from each other, sitting on complete opposite ends of the small couch, a sizable gap between the pair of you.

You stare straight forward, as does Joost, watching the party, unspeaking. You wonder why he's here with you, he shouldn't want anything to do with you, just as much as you shouldn't want anything to do with him.

"You been okay?" Joost suddenly asks, turning toward you.

"Yeah, good." You can't bring yourself to look at up, unable to look him in the eyes as you lie. "Different, I guess."

"Yeah," He pauses, "Different."

And that isn't a lie, things had been different, waking up in a bed filled with nobody but yourself- no one waiting for you when you got off a long shift, no one to call at night and talk incessantly about every detail of your day- different, lonely.

"You too?" You ask, "Good?"

"Yeah." He sounds so sure of himself, like things really are good. "I'm good."

"Where's-uh Lina?"

"Outside." Joost answers plainly, "Smoking a joint with some friends, I think."

"Why don't you join them?" His absence from his girlfriend seemed peculiar to you, you'd always seen him as the clingy type.

"Meeting friends," He sucks in a breath through barred teeth, resulting in a slight whistling sound as he sucks in, "Sounds intense right now."

"You don't want to meet your girlfriend's friends?" The girlfriend word doesn't taste right in your mouth. It's bitter, and you almost have to refrain from gagging as it leaves your mouth.

"Not right now."

"Then when?"

Joost doesn't respond, perhaps not enjoying your questioning of his new relationship. Though it was odd to you regardless. To you, Joost had always been the one boyfriend invited to girls night, or brunch with your girlfriends.

You slump back into the couch, continuing to watch the partygoers, obviously in much better spirits than you are. You lay your head against the back cushion of the couch, turning to your side, facing away from Joost, unable to bear anyone's excited, smiling faces any longer.

That familiar feeling of crippling loneliness had finally fallen back on you, crushing you under its enormous weight. At a party, and here you were, near blackout and on the verge of tears on the couch. You want out, but you're not quite sure how to get there. At least at home you can sulk in your misery without dozens of other people around you shoving their happiness in your face. God you are pathetic.

"There you are!" There's that pretty voice again, Lina. "I've been looking all over for you!" You don't bother to turn around, you know she's talking to Joost, expecting any minute now for her to rip him away from you. Not that she doesn't have every right to, you are not his girlfriend any more. "What are you doing?"

"I kind of made y/n twist her ankle," You hear Joost say, "So I went to help her to the couch."

"Oh," She giggles, "So clumsy- is she asleep?"

"Just drunk," Joost chuckles. "Very drunk." You don't like the way they're talking about you in the third person, it feels patronizing, like you aren't even fully there, like they can't even give you the time of day ask you themselves.

You hear Lina laugh again before speaking,

"You should come dance!"

"In a bit, let me finish my beer first, m'kay schatje?"

You find yourself forcing your eyes shut tight, wanting nothing more than to curl up in a ball and fold right into yourself hearing Joost call someone else such a term of endearment.

"Okay," She concedes softly, "Be quick! I'll miss you!"

After a few moments you deem it safe to look up, inferring that Lina has left and it's just you and Joost on the couch once more. You blink a few times, startled slightly when you finally turn to the side to see Joost had been staring straight at you. When your gaze meets his Joost's eyes widen, quickly looking away from you. This was weird. And you hated it more than anything.

You scan Joost for a moment, watching over his figure, noticing something peculiar,

"It's empty." You say plainly.

"Huh?" Joost furrows his eyebrows.

"The bottle." You stretch your fingers out, pointing towards the beer bottle in Joost's hands.

"So?"

"Said you'd go dance with your girly-friend when you're done." You hiccup, words slow, your tongue feeling like mush in your mouth.

"Okay?"

"Why'd you lie?" You ask, eyebrows lowering, eyelids forming a squint.

"I don't know." He shrugs, "Don't feel like dancing."

"Doesn't sound like you." A dry laugh leaves your throat, Joost, not dancing, that certainly wasn't like him. Joost had usually had trouble keeping still, always having to move whenever music was on, whether it was really playing around him or just in his head.

"Don't really feel like me." His voice is monotone, matter of fact, but it shows more emotion than he had all night.

"Sorry." You don't know what else much to say, just sorry, "You should dance with her, mmm prob'ly make her happy."

"What about you?" He looks over you, perhaps a little too intense for your liking, "Are you happy?"

"No," You respond plainly, without thinking much, not bothering to lie, "Party sucks. Think m'gonna leave."

"Good idea," He nods, and it stings a little. It's a good idea you leave? Does he want you to leave? Fuck. "Are you leaving alone?"

"Julie," You answer without context.

"Then that's a yes." The two of you well aware of Julie's drunk antics, how she'd wander off and make a whole new group of friends for a night.

"She's somewhere." You press your palm into the arm of the couch, stabilizing yourself so you can stand up. Almost immediately the room is spinning, and your vision is blurring- your injured ankle doing little to help you with your balance. Almost immediately you're falling right back onto the couch, the cushion bouncing beneath you as you hit the seat.

"Alright." Joost begins to stand up, "I'm taking you home."

"What?" You stare up at him, blinking up at him as you attempt to get your vision back.

"Look at you," He murmurs, "You're wasted." If he hadn't been speaking so softly you would have thought him to be angry with you. But he doesn't seem to be, just concerned.

"But Lina-"

"Is with her friends."

"You don't hav-"

"I am," You know you can't argue any further with him, nor do you really want to, part of you doesn't mind this, his concern for you, knowing that at least somewhere deep down he still cares, "Come on, up." Joost reaches out a hand for you to grab. It feels like the weight of the world is against you as you try to bring your hand forward to grasp onto Joost. But you manage to do it, his fingers firmly clasped around your wrist- pulling you up.

Joost doesn't relinquish his hold on you once you're up, instead he just moves to put his arm around your waist. If not for the nostalgic comfort of his touch, you're thankful for his support, knowing full well if he hadn't been holding onto you as like he was, you'd fall right back down again. You push your weight into Joost's side, letting him do most of the work to keep you upright.

"Mind staying with me tonight?" He asks, beginning to step forward, attempting to bring the two of you toward the door to leave, "I don't want you alone while you're so drunk."

Home? With Joost? You debate saying no, thinking maybe that was the right answer- who were you? Going home with the man you broke up with? Especially now that he had a girlfriend...

You can't really say no, you can't deny that you want to spend the night, and see if maybe, things would feel like they used to, you had to see it through.

"That's, 'kay." You slur, just ready to get out of there.

The Uber ride back to Joost's place had been nothing short of depressing, the two of you sat just about as far as humanly possible from each other. Which, admittedly was mostly your doing, facing your body away from Joost as you sat with your head pressed against the glass.

But now you were just glad to be somewhere other than the party, even if it was Joost's apartment.Joost's arm once again tightly wrapped around you to keep you from crashing down to your feet. Walking into Joost's apartment had felt like when you'd come back to your parents house for breaks in University, the distant warmth of memories of a happier, simpler time, reminding you of what used to be and how things have changed.

You're unsure of where to go, the walls of this home no longer as welcoming as they'd once been, feeling like you don't have the ability to roam like you'd used to.

"Tired?" He asks suddenly

"I think so." You mumble, unsure of the grogginess you feel is exhaustion, sadness, or intoxication, or a mix of all three.

"I'll help you get ready," He assures, "Think you left some stuff in the bathroom."

Joost's reminder that you had really fully removed your presence from your apartment, never bothering to come by and get your things, made you wonder if your memory still lingered here. Did he happen upon your things and remember the many nights and days you had spent here? Did he even notice at all?

Joost slowly walks you over to the bathroom, and you find yourself leaning against the sink, the counter helping you maintain your balance. Joost had been right, you had left some things at his house, finding a small package of makeup wipes under the sink. Perhaps for sober you this wasn't your ideal skincare routine, but for now it seemed perfectly adequate.

"I won't make you do it," Joost smiles, peeling back the cover of the package, and pulling out a wipe.

How often had you been here, usually unable to hold your liquor as well as Joost could, many nights spent with Joost looking after you when you'd had too much to drink. Though usually moments like these were filled with soft kisses and gentle I love you's- Joost musing at how beautiful he thought you were, something completely, and utterly missing from tonight.

Joost is gentle as he removes the makeup from your face, careful not to rub to hard as he swipes the wipe back and forth. You wonder if there's an undertone of intimacy to this, or if you're just drunk, but the way he has you leaned up against the sink, his hand on your waist to keep you stable, the two of you staring so intensely at one another. It all feels too intense.

"Close your eyes," Joost requests softly as he moves to take off your eye makeup. And you do so, lashes falling softly as he rubs over your lids. You can pretend now, with your eyes closed, for just a moment that everything is just like it used to be, you can slip away into your little fantasy where everything had worked out between you and Joost, and you had never had to make the hardest decision of your life to leave him.

Your eyes flutter open once Joost had finished taking off your eye makeup, blinking rapidly as you adjust to the bright white light of the bathroom once more.

"Almost done." He mumbles, placing the dirtied wipe on the counter.

Maybe still in your fantasy world you're unthinking when you place your hand on Joost's shoulder, his eyes darting to the side once your fingers graze him. He smiles slightly and halts his process of going for another wipe. You push your hand forward, letting the pads of your fingertips brush against the purple marks on Joost's neck.

You let your gaze linger on them, brain wandering about under what circumstances he'd gotten them, fingers absentmindedly drawing shapes over his skin.

"Stop that," Joost's voice is low, soft. "Don't need to see that."

"Hard not to." You hum, letting your hand drop back down to his shoulder.

"I know," He blinks a few times, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." You can't really appreciate his apology, a sorry not changing the fact now there's a girl other than you in his life.

"I am."

Things are silent for a moment between you, your ears filled with nothing but the sound of your own thumping heartbeat as you stare up at him. You can't tell if Joost has moved in closer to you, or if its your own lack of spacial awareness, but something is pulling you in, your neck craning toward him.

Joost tilts his head slightly, his eyes lingering on your mouth. You let your lips part, unsure of what is to come next. You feel his fingertips tighten on your waist, gripping at your flesh, his chest rising with a sharp inhale. He moves to almost dip down to reach your craning neck, almost like he's going to kiss you before he very suddenly pushes back, an uncomfortable chuckle filling the air.

"Um," He attempts to clear his throat, "Sorry, let me finish."

You feel the gaping hole in your heart grow, and you'd wondered if you'd come here with perhaps too much false hope. Stupid. You'd broken up with him, and here you were, expecting him to love all over you.

"I'll get you clothes." Joost nods, as he finishes up taking off your makeup. "And bring you to the bedroom."

Joost's leads you to his bed in the dark of his bedroom, motioning for you to sit down while he turned on the light and grabbed you something to wear.

Even more memories come flooding to you with the click of Joost's bedside lamp, the room bathed in a soft orange glow. You had probably spent more nights here than in your own room when you and Joost were together.

"This okay?" Joost sets some clothes down next to you. You lazily look through it, a black T-shirt and a pair of sweat shorts.

"Fine."

"Need help changing?"

"Don't think so."

"Okay," He nods, pulling his lips into a straight line, smiling slightly, "Don't worry I won't look."

"I don't care," Some strange part of you hoping he will look as you change, "Nothing you haven't seen before."

Joost simply steps away, heading back over to his dresser, presumably to find something else for himself to wear. You pull your shirt over your head, flinging it off somewhere in the room before replacing it with Joost's shirt. You slip your hand behind your back, up the back of the shirt, unclasping your bra, sighing as you do so, an acute relief as you slip the straps down your shoulders and shimmy out of it.

You go to bend down to take off your shoes, before stopping halfway, unable to handle the folded in half position in your drunken state, nausea creeping into you as your stomach touches your knees.

"Joost?" You ask softly, voice barely audible.

Joost turns around quickly, attention ripped from whatever he'd been doing.

"Can you help me with my shoes?" Your voice wavers, shy, like you're afraid to ask- and truthfully you are. You bite at the inside of your cheeks, painfully aware of how fast things had changed, never in your life did you think that you'd be apprehensive about speaking to Joost.

"Sure- of course." The floorboards creak under Joost as he walks over to you, getting down on his knees so he can help unbuckle the strap of your heels for you.

You stare intently at the top of his head, messy blonde strands pointing every which way. You picture yourself running your hands through it, feeling the strands under your fingertips, massaging the top of his head lovingly. You have to stop yourself from doing it, the familiarity of your surroundings combined with your drunken state- constantly having to remind yourself you're not his girlfriend anymore.

"You really thing I'm a dog?" He asks, slipping off your first shoe before pausing to stare up at you. He's asking like he really wants to know, though he was less a full grown dog now and more a puppy, looking up at you through big, blue wet eyes.

"Mhm," You hum, "Such a good boy." You giggle, lost in the way Joost looks at you, without thinking, running your palm over the top of his head like you'd pet a dog, messying his already unruly hair.

"Don't talk to me like that," Joost chuckles, "I'll cum."

"Ew," You wince, trying to stifle a laugh, pressing at Joost's chest with the ball of your foot as to push him away, "You're so gross."

"Mmm," Joost muses, "So you can smile,"

And that smile does linger on your face, for just a moment before Joost returns to taking off your shoes. You clench your jaw, sucking in a breath as Joost grabs the ankle you had injured. He quickly lets go,

"Sorry, sorry." He apologizes, letting his hand return a few seconds later, his touch lighter now. "Maybe I should take you to get that checked out in the morning."

"Maybe," You murmur, "Really hurts." The pain suddenly bringing you back to the reality of your situation.

"I'm sorry, lief- sorry." He coos, slipping off your shoe, "Can I get you something to take the edge off?"

You hardly notice the way he trips over his words, almost saying something he shouldn't have. Too focused on the prospect of actually being injured.

"Don't think so." You huff, "Know, you don't have t'do all this."

"Of course I do," Joost smooths a hand over your knee, shivers running down your spine as his touch brushes over you.

"Don't deserve it after-"

"Stop it." He immediately cuts you off, "You deserve this. And more, just sorry I'm showing you that so late."

You're not sure what to make of what Joost is saying, nor can you really make sense of his behavior. By now you've had enough of tonight, just wanting it over with.

"Just want to sleep." You don't bother responding to what Joost has said.

"Okay," Joost nods, standing up.

You shimmy awkwardly against the bed as you pull your skirt down your thighs, letting it fall down your legs once it reaches your knees, and kicking it off to the side. You don't bother to put on the shorts Joost had given you, preferring to not wear pants to bed.

Joost is standing next to the bed, bent over, peeling the comforter back from its made position so you can get under. You crawl up the length of the bed from where you had been sitting, laying down in the spot Joost had unmade for you.

"If you need anything I'll be on the couch." Joost says, pulling the blanket back over you, "Anything at all." You half expect him to finish tucking you in with a kiss and an I love you, but perhaps as much as you wish he would, those days were gone.

You let your head rest comfortably against the pillow, only humming at Joost's statement, ready to get some sleep. With another click the light is off.

"Goodnight," The floorboards creak once more as Joost heads towards the door, "Slaap lekker."

"Goodnight, Joost." You yawn.

You weren't sure how long you had been laying there restless, an hour, maybe more, maybe less. You couldn't sleep, unsure if your stomach was turning from liquor-induced nausea, or the never ending loop of you finding Joost and Lina making out in the bathroom that played every time you tried to close your eyes.

You're not sure what it is, but something is drawing you towards the light that peaks under Joost's bedroom door. You wonder if you should get up, see what Joost is up to, though you're sure he's probably passed out on the couch by now.

Though it doesn't matter much, you just need out of this bedroom. You rip the blankets off of you, the chill of the air around you hitting your exposed legs, causing you to shiver.

You're still vaguely intoxicated, evident by your dizziness as you sit up. You fling your legs over the side of the bed, careful as you step down on the ground, placing as little pressure as possible on your injured ankle as you teeter over to the bedroom door.

You stall for a moment as you touch your hand to the handle, inhaling before you finally make the decision to open the door. You peek your head from the room, then step out, feeling like a child walking to your parents bedroom to tell them you just threw up.

You peer out into the living room, noticing Joost is still awake, talking, on the phone you presume,

"Glad you got home safe," "Okay, goodnight schatje, yes, sleep well. Talk to you in the morning."

Right. Lina.

You quickly step away from the living room, hoping Joost hadn't noticed your presence. You tip-toe as fast as you can back to the bedroom, trying your hardest not to injure yourself further.

You collapse onto the bed, hot tears immediately beginning to spill out of your eyes. You shove your face into the pillow, trying to stifle your cries, your chest hiccuping as the tears continue to pour from your lash line. Tonight had been all too much, a complete, and utter mistake, truthfully you weren't ready for life after Joost, something you had barely thought of when you had decided to break things off.

You had thought things were supposed to get better after breaking off a toxic relationship, not worse. Yet here you were feeling just as low as the day you broke up, nothing had changed.

You're all too absorbed in your own emotions you don't notice when the door to the bedroom opens, a soft voice following,

"Did you need something?"

Shit. Joost. He had seen you enter the living room.

You sniff, raising your head from the pillow, thankful for the cover of the night not giving away your tear-stained face. You sniffle again, taking in a shallow breath as you try to speak.

"No-no m'okay." Your words are stuttered, clearly affected by your state.

"Are you crying?" He's suddenly concerned, and you feel the mattress dip next to you, presumably Joost sitting down on the bed.

Click. The light is on again.

The room is blurry, obscured by the heavy tears that hang from your lashes. You lower your head, quickly burying it in your hands to shield your face from Joost's view.

"C'mon," He urges. You feel his hands around your wrists, beckoning you to pull your hands from your face, "What's wrong?"

Reluctantly, you give into his touch, slowly lowering your hands from your eyes.

"Oh," Joost pouts, you're sure he's being nice, but right now it feels completely, and utterly patronizing, especially as you're crying about him and his new found relationship, "Why are you crying?"

"I'm so stupid," You sob, not having it in you to hold back your emotions anymore, "So stupid, Joost."

"No," He reaches out a hand, placing it on your shoulder, "Why do you think you're stupid?"

"Because," You choke, "Everything. Tonight. It's all stupid." You can't find the right words to tell him how you feel, knowing if you tried they would come out all wrong.

Suddenly Joost's hand on your shoulder turns into him bringing you into a hug, and pulling you onto his lap. You immediately bury your head into his neck, sobbing into the warmth of his skin.

Joost's grip is tight on you, holding you like you might leave him again, knowing you will.

You can barely find comfort in his touch, fearing how fleeting it will be.

"Crying because of me?" He asks like he already knows the answer, of course he knows the answer. You nod against him, holding him tighter, choking out a sob. Joost lets out a dry chuckle, "Not worth crying over. Wasting tears."

The idea of wasting tears had never made much sense to you, what were you meant to save them for? Something important? This was important, Joost was important, your relationship was important- and you had ruined it. That was worth crying over.

Joost rubs a hand up and down your back, trying his best to comfort you in your sorry state.

You want to yell at him, want to be angry at how he could have moved on and found someone else so quickly while you were stuck crying yourself to sleep at night. After all it had been his behavior that had lead to you breaking up, and still, he gets nothing for it? He just gets to walk away.

But you're too tired to be angry now. Not as you melt into him, his hand smoothing over the roots of your hair, his body gently moving back and forth, anything to relieve you of some of your misery.

All you can do is try to slow your breathing, try to regain some composure as you make your pathetic confession,

"Just so hard," You inhale sharply, anticipating your next words, "I still love you, I love you so much."

"I know," He sighs, pressing a kiss to your shoulder through the fabric of his own T-shirt, "I love you too."

a/n: haiii ^_^ long time no write.... i feel like for as angsty as the series is i haven't written straight up hb! au angst... so here we are... but be not afraid, i have another au! piece cooking up that is very much... not angst mwahhhahhah

#joost klein x reader #joost klein x f! reader #joost klein fic #joost klein fanfic #heartbeat! au #rpf #joost klein rpf

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httpsryu · 14 days ago

Text

b.f.s (best friend's sister) pt. 2

pairing: mo jihye x fem!reader

summary: it was always a thing, noticing your best friend's older sister. ever since you were a young girl.

category: strangers-to-friends-to-lovers au

genre: fluff, slight angst (?)

warnings: JEALOUSY, y/n is very much head over heels for jihye

a/n: thanks for the love on part 1 <3

clearing your throat and simultaneously tapping your feet, you dart your eyes between your best friend and her sister. both girls look down at their feet, avoiding your gazes at them.

"i mean if it wasn't a date, i don't get why you're so upset." maya blurts out her intrusive thoughts, earning a nudge in her stomach by her sister.

you deeply sigh, having jihye's concern pan towards you. why do you seem to care so much about that girl?

"it isn't about that." you respond with a worried expression. "you already know how introverted haerin is, you can't just randomly yell that out -- especially in a public setting."

your best friend rolls her eyes, your words going through one ear and coming out the other. "i was just genuinely excited for you."

"me?"

maya nods. "haerin is a cute and nice girl and you were complaining about how you hated being single, let alone get grossed out when boys try to court you. i just figured you'd want to try something new with a nice and cute person like her."

"i see. but maya you'd have to understand that me dating is my own personal matters, besides even though i always complain on how single i am, i still don't want to be in the dating scene yet." you explain, thankfully without blurting out that you have feelings for your best friend's sister.

a crush is a crush.

"y/n is young to date anyways." jihye backs you up, feeling a sour taste at the idea of you and haerin possibly becoming a thing.

maya groans loudly, putting her head back to be dramatic. "we're only a year younger than you!"

"still too young." jihye crosses her arms, wanting to not talk about nor think about you dating. (after all, she's just being a protective older sister.)

the younger mo rolls her eyes at how geeky and overprotective her sister is being, getting up from the ramp that she was sitting on to reach you. "y/n, let's go leave this oldie behind. she's getting on my nerves."

"HEY!"

shaking at your head at how immature the two siblings are being, you can't help but to stare over at jihye more. oh, how pretty she is in the sunlight with her natural curly hair falling perfectly right at her shoulders.

the way jihye could never stay mad at anyone ever, that's how much of a sweet and kind person mo jihye is.

"AHHH! save me!" maya runs behind you, using you as shield from her jihye unnie.

jihye huffs in frustration at maya using you for protection before picking up your backpack from the ground. "it's getting late, let's start heading back home."

slinging your backpack around her shoulders, she starts walking in front.

pretty

"hehe." your best friend giggles in victory, kissing your cheek and making sure to leave a big 'smooch' sound which grabs jihye to stop walking and bringing her attention to you two.

"we're coming! we're coming!" maya could not help but to let out another eye roll at the way her sister is acting today.

you wait for a bit, standing behind to see the other two walking. however, your sense of vision floods and linger over jihye. oh, how she looks pretty while YOUR backpack is around her back. she even walks pretty, how is one's beauty made so perfect?

mr and mrs. mo made jihye with love.

"what are you doing?" maya turns around, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand to get a good look at you. "let's go!"

jihye turns around as well, her eyes basically smiling at you making you freeze and look off to the side of her face.

trying to play it cool, you let out a small laugh before running up to the both of them. to not over fluster yourself, you lean a bit more on maya's side.

this seems normal.

but, why does jihye want you closer to her? she can't help but to ask herself on why you seem to always draw a line between you and her? are you that uncomfortable around her? could it be because she's a year older than both you and maya?

with her hand clutching on one of the straps of your backpack, jihye distantly stares off into the streets, keeping quiet as she ponders on how to get closer to you.

it's only normal, right? you three basically grew up together, it's not weird at the fact she wants to become closer to you, right?

"isn't it strange that kyujin keeps leaving notes into someone's locker?" maya asks, wondering why one of their friends is trying to keep it a secret.

you can only hum in question, before trying to defend your friend. "i think it's honestly kind of cute."

"tch, so cheesy."

notes in a locker?

jihye patiently waits in front of your classroom, her hands gripping to the straps of her backpack while she looks down at her feet to calm her nerves down. she softly inhales and exhales, finding a steady breathing before your class ends.

"y/n." kyujin whispers to you across the classroom.

you struggle to drought down the lecture materials as you look up at your friend calling your name. "huh?"

you notice your friend making a weird jerking movement with her head, leaving you extremely confused and overstimulated due to the materials covered in class. "what?"

"look at the door." kyujin whispers back.

at your friend's words, you lazily dart your eyes to the door.

OH MY GOD??

at the sight of her, you immediately sit up in your seat, pretending to look studious in case she happens to peer inside the classroom. why could jihye possibly be here? and in front of your classroom?

and why does she look amazing in that grey sweats gym uniform? and her hair is so curly today, you can feel a sense of devotion just for her only. if only...she would see you the same way you see her.

jihye probably only saw you as a sister

all of a sudden, the urge for class to end disappears and you just want to stay seated at your desk FOREVER.

getting a quick glimpse of the clock, you internally start panicking as you curse out the clock for moving its hands too fast all of a sudden.

the second your teacher started to erase her work off of the whiteboard, the panic rises internally even more. class is ending soon and all of sudden, you want to stay here forever instead of facing your ongoing long term crush like an idiot.

everyone else in the class starts to put their workbooks away, having you start panicking even more and ultimately, you too put away your workbooks into your backpack with an anxious heartbeat racing.

you watch as everyone else disperse out the classroom, halting on purpose to still calm yourself down and figure out why jihye is out waiting here in front of your classroom.

"bye weirdo." kyujin sends you a flying kiss to which you shudder and grimace before she walks out the classroom.

jihye looks over, peering inside the classroom once the students exited out. she smiles softly at the way you're diligently taking the time to put away your workbooks and school supplies. jihye can't help but to admire a little bit of your features.

you look up from zipping up your backpack close, making direct eye contact with the older.

jihye smiles over at you, her pink rosy lips upturn with her signature lip gloss. you swore you could've felt your heartbeat stopped beating for a second at the smile. before you could even get straight back to what you were doing, jihye strides her way towards you.

OH MY GOD-calm down.

"hi unnie." you manage to say, calming down a bit while continuing to zip your backpack up.

the older lets out a soft hum. "hi y/n."

"w-what are you doing here?" you get out of your seat, asking her.

jihye pushes down the thought that you probably don't want to see her and manage a small smile at your question, grabbing your backpack and holding it. "maya is doing something for a project with her partner so i figured i would accompany you on your walk back home, if that's alright?"

alone? just the two of you? walking?

"y-yeah, that's alright." you softly smile at the older.

jihye gasps happily, nodding as she walks besides you out of the classroom, holding your backpack in her hand.

the silence is comforting yet it's killing you in the inside. only sounds of the both of you walking against the concrete ground could be heard. and strangely; you like it yet dislike it.

you only like it because walking with your crush is a blessing but you dislike it because what do you even do in this situation?

jihye admires your features a little longer, blatantly staring at you without knowing how it'd make you feel. frankly, jihye always found you perfect and adorable. (like a younger sister, right?) somehow; you look even more perfect in this sunlight.

'why is she staring at me so long like that?' you think to yourself, feeling nervous even more as the both of you continue to walk along a small trail to your neighborhood.

"so, you normally help out at the library?" jihye asks with a soft tender voice, smiling down prettily at you.

you let out a curt nod, diverting your eyes down at your feet to stop your cheeks from getting painted by a pink-hue. "haerin and i both help out at the library."

"ahh~ i see." jihye nods to herself, keeping that information stored into her brain. "so...this haerin. is she nice?"

jihye hopes she didn't sound too intruding for asking that question. why does she want to know so badly if haerin is nice to you or not?

you can only let out a shy nod in response.

jihye ignores the weird itchy feeling in the back of her throat, inhaling in deeply before speaking again. "that's...that's good."

the air falls silent again.

"y/n?"

you look up at her sweet voice calling your name, ignoring the way the soft vibrations of her voice affects your inner turmoil of emotions. "hmm, unnie?"

"umm...do you not like me?" jihye's voice is very gentle and quiet...with a sense of vulnerability seeping through.

god; if only she knows how much you like her. how much every glance she gives you make you feel overwhelmed and enthralled, giving you butterflies each time. or how much her voice calling your name out makes your heart pound in your chest.

"no...i do. why?" you compose yourself to be able to say those words.

jihye gazes down at you with a small smile, tilting her head. "you barely talk to me and when you do, only a few words are exchanged. you tend to be wary of your distance with me when i'm near you."

you sigh deeply silently, darting your eyes back to the ground, the cracks in the pavement looking more interesting than the face of the girl you've always had a crush on since you were seven.

jihye quietly observe you, waiting for your response.

"it's not that unnie..."

you sigh again, not knowing what to say to ease the older girl's mind.

"you just make me nervous..."

jihye's brows furrows at your words.

nervous?

"is it because i'm older than you?" the question comes out hesitantly from the older's lips, lingering in the air for a few seconds while the two continues walking.

you shake your head immediately. "n-no."

"is it because i'm maya's sister?"

"no."

jihye's lips changes into a small frown, her eyes full of curiosity. "then why do i make you nervous?"

before you could open your mouth to form a response to the older's question, a small bark and a scratch on your legs grab your attention. you glance down, seeing your family's beloved toy poodle. which means you've arrived home...

"ah~ looks like we've made it safely." the older smiles softly, putting distance between you two to give you space. "i'll let maya know i've taken you home safely."

you can only nod in response. "thanks unnie..."

"i'll see you around." jihye says, forcing a smile as she reluctantly turns around to start heading home.

thursday; at 5:30 pm is written down as the worse day in your entire life.

here you are, lying in maya's arms while she comforts you. her hand brushes through your hair while tears are pouring out from your eyes. it's dumb, really. to cry over someone who's probably only seen you as their little sister's best friend.

and yet; here you are...

all because you saw jihye hugging some cool girl who goes by the name of kim minji.

why does the world seems to punish JUST you?

"shh...it's alright..." maya soothes you, her tone in a hushed whisper.

she feels your tears subsiding as you sniffle softly.

"there, there...you're alright."

once you've managed to calm down and relax, maya slightly pulled back to take a look at you. her thumbs gently wiped around your tears.

"now, who made my darling cry?" maya asks in a small whisper.

how do you tell your best friend of ten years that you've had a crush on her older sister since the day you became friends?

you shake your head, worried of what maya would think if you told her.

before maya could open her mouth to respond back, the door of her room gets swing opened and there she is, jihye standing in the doorway with a concerned look.

"i...overheard on the way back to my room." jihye softly says, her eyes focus onto you. "is everything alright here?"

no. no. no.

it's as if her gentle and concerned voice makes it even worse and before you can stop yourself; a dam of tears starts to break.

oh boy, this will be a long night.

hey...hehe...sorry for the VERY late second part :( my laptop got stolen and i hate typing on my phone or ipad so i had to buy a new one...

october 30, 2024; publishing date

taglist: OPEN

#kpop x reader #kpop imagines #httpsryu #new jeans x reader #new jeans imagines #danielle x reader #mo jihye x reader #mo jihye #jihye x reader #newjeans danielle #newjeans x reader

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