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backinmyphase · 2 months ago

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Not your husband

Summary: You are going to marry the Satoru Gojo. A dream come true right? Well when he doesn't even show up to the meetings to arrange your marriage, it becomes clear that it's more a nightmare.

Or: Satoru Gojo doesn't even know how attached he will grow to his wife yet.

Pairing: Gojo x reader, 3040 words

Next part Masterlist

Sane Geto AU (I am an Angst writer, but not like Gege. Please excuse any errors in my writing)

The world of Jujutsu was never a world for you.

Born into a clan, which only saw your value in your technique. Born into a family, which only saw your mistakes. Born from a mother, who had the same problems but still resented you.

Born into a world full of curses but still being told you were the biggest of all.

"Don't daydream, you will make a bad impression. And you really can't afford that."

The woman in front of you isn't pleased. She isn't since she knew she wouldn't give life to boy.

It's hard as woman in a Jujutsu clan.

It's not about how your technique can help you, it's about how your technique could help your son at exorcising curses.

"Yes, mother."

She frowns as she looks at you. Displeased she fixes her posture a bit, signaling you to do the same. You obey.

"You can't afford to make any mistakes today. Just do as I told you. I can only hope you have learned anything."

As you nod you realize what all this means. The dress kimono you are wearing. The expensive tea that is ready to serve. The hairpin you have gotten from your mother, who did your hair today.

All of it becomes so real.

Your husband has been decided.

"You won't say anything, until you are being asked." The woman hissed. "And please keep a smile on your boring face, then it at least looks not so simple."

You never discovered your technique and what you could do with it. It wasn't easy. Knowing that everything you did would result in you being married of.

And as you sat here in this big room with your mother, you could only wonder.

Who would your husband be? Could it be someone who understood you?

Someone you could love?

As the door opened you saw your father who looked onto the ground as he spoke.

"They are here."

Your mother only nodded, as your father closed the door. Just a few minutes later the door was opened again.

And a beautiful woman stepped inside.

She smiled at your mother as she took a seat in front of her. But the smile was the same as the smile of your mother. And maybe the same of your own.

As she sat down on the opposite side, you served the tea. The best tea your clan could afford.

For a man that didn't seem to have come.

The woman gave an apologetic smile. "My sincere apologies, but my son... Well he is in a bit of a rebellious phase, which lead of him disappearing before this meeting."

Your mother's smile faded a bit. "Does he know of what importance this meeting is for our clans?"

The woman laughed. "Oh, he knows." She slightly eyed you before she spoke again. "He just doesn't care."

Silence flodded the room. It was like a cold hand slidded down your back as you realized.

"I hope the Gojo Clan will show more interest in our connection. We will be very disappointed if not." The smile of your mother was just as cold as the hand that seemed to choke you.

This was Mrs. Gojo. The mother of the strongest.

Gojo Satoru.

The one who seemingly stood above anyone. The one who jumped at every opportunity to mess with the higher ups.

Who will be your husband.

And he didn't even show up to meet you.

"Of course. He will learn." The woman sighed as she spared you a glance again. Then she smiled that smile again.

And you mirrored it.

"Your future husband isn't the easiest person." The woman sighed as she looked at you. "Even as a baby he knew what he wanted and how to get it."

Not knowing how to react you just nodded.

The woman laughed at that. "But no worries! Even though he is... Difficult, you will love him. He has that effect on people."

Your mouth dried up at the mention of love. How could this woman talk about love at the table your arranged marriage would be discussed? How could she talk about love when you didn't even have a saying in this arrangement? How, when you will marry the strongest?

Satoru Gojo?

"I really hope that he will learn." Your mother smiled while taking a sip from her tea. "He should know that his actions are what keep the Gojo Clan still important. He shouldn't throw that away."

The tension grew a lot, as Mrs. Gojo mirrored the smile and took a sip of the tea. "Well at least I brought him to our Clan. In the end that's the biggest thing a woman could achieve right?"

It was sick. We lived in modern times, but the Jujutsu Society was still so far behind, floating under the radar, with the excuse of making the world a better place.

"It's true." Your mother sighed as she lowered her cup. "The strongest really is the biggest achievement you could have ever accomplished. Being the parent of such a child... But I wonder..."

Your mother now didn't even try to hide her distain. "Why does his mother not have him under control?"

Klirrr

"Because." Mrs. Gojo's hand shook as it held the broken cup. The sharp shards cutting into it. "As a boy, he can have this freedom."

The black tea in your cup grew cold as long with the atmosphere in the room. Your mother stood up and left the room without a word. Her steps filled the silence in the room. And as she closed the door the woman in front of you sighed.

"Difficult woman, isn't she?" Mrs. Gojo let go of the cup shards while hissing. Her mask no longer in tact as she didn't smile anymore.

"Well who isn't?"

She looked at you surprised and then chuckled. "I guess you are right."

On the same day the arrangement was consolidated. It was official.

You will marry Satoru Gojo.

"Suguru, how could this happen? To me?" Satoru whined as he complained to his best friend. "It all has to be a bad joke, right?"

"No, it sounds like a normal thing in jujutsu clans. I'm just confused why you didn't have any saying. You know, as the strongest." Suguru didn't look up from his book as his best friend groaned.

"That's what I'm saying! I don't give a damn about this whole clan thing."

As they were sitting in the park near their mission, they of course already finished not even breaking a sweat, the sun slowly set.

"It is a really bad system. How the clans only strive after power and never consider the lives of their toles." Suguru muttered as he turned the page.

"And now I have to marry a random girl I don't even know!" Satoru groaned again and buried his face in his hands.

"And she has to marry you." Suguru sighed.

Satoru looked at him slightly annoyed. "What do you want to say? Just say it."

"Well, I am sure, she is just as horrified as you at the sound of marriage. I'm just saying you could at least try to get to know her."

"I'm not going there." Stubbornly Satoru shook his head. "Never. I'm not giving them that satisfaction."

Suguru looked up at his friend and now he shook his head. "I pity your soon to be wife."

Offended, Satoru turned to his friend. "Hey! I'm your friend in need here!"

Suguru placed his bookmark gently in his book and then closed it. "Just promise you will show up to the wedding."

Satoru grinned. "Why? You scared of the higher-ups for me?"

"Not for you." He stood up as he looked down at his friend.

"For your wife. If an arranged marriage isn't going well, you know who gets blamed. And what you're doing is just cruel to her."

Gojo didn't say anything as he put on his blindfold.

"Do I look pretty?"

You didn't dare be louder than a whisper. "Mother?"

Her sigh gave you confirmation that she wasn't pleased. As she looked you up and down, her frown never disappeared. "As long you don't make that face, it's passable."

She stood up. "For a wedding you look... I just hope your husband will like you at your best."

"Soon to be husband." you corrected her quietly as you looked in the mirror.

"What?"

"Nothing."

She raised a brow but nodded slowly. Then she paced through the room impatiently. "That woman still hasn't given us any signs."

"Mrs. Gojo is probably seating the guests." a little part of you wanted to defend this woman. Your future mother in law.

"Or the groom makes problems again." your mother shook her head, like always when she spoke about the young Gojo.

After he didn't show up to a single meeting, she was sure that Mrs. Gojo didn't raise him right and that she as his mother should be blamed.

It was so pathetic. How you already felt his displeasure, his hatred towards you.

"Mother?"

"What is it?" she was annoyed.

"What was your wedding like?"

...

"Just like this one. It's tradition in our clan." her face was stone cold.

And you felt sympathy for her. She also had an arranged marriage. A wedding in which she didn't have any saying. A husband who she never chose.

"It's the bride's moment." The voice of Mrs. Gojo halled through the room.

Your mother smiled at you. You smiled back.

"Just don't mess it up."

There were too many guests. Mostly people you didn't know. And all of them looked at you, while you made your way to the altar.

Under their stares you felt small.

But there was also this man. This guy with white hair, that stood at the end of your path. This boy that refused to even meet you before the wedding.

He gave you a glance and then continued to stubbornly look straight ahead.

As you stood before him, he didn't seem to be here with his thoughts.

And at this moment you knew he didn't want to marry you. No, you knew that before. But you knew that he would never open up or try to make this work.

And you didn't want that.

"I do."

No, you really didn't. And as he spatted the same words you knew that he was lying too.

"Oh, you lucky girl!" The old woman, you didn't even know, said.

The after ceremony was not nice. All the guests wanted to talk to Gojo and some, not many pestered you. What really stung you was that they made more effort to talk to you than your own husband did.

"To marry such a handsome man." she looked at you and smiled knowingly.

"Of course it's an honor to marry Gojo Satoru as he is an important figure for the jujutsu society." Everything you said sounded like a broken record that lost any meaning.

She chuckled. "You can be honest with me. An heir will be on the way shortly, right?"

You hated this talk about an heir. Hated, hated, hated this people that keep telling you to hurry up and sleep with this man that didn't even look at you.

"We will see."

She laughed at that. And somehow you managed to excuse yourself from the conversation.

The rest of the evening was torture, but you somehow survived. Gojo didn't talk to you. He just disappeared at some point, leaving you alone in the cave of the lions.

His mother was right. He was a difficult person.

You hated that you had to ask around to be driven to his estate. Hated, that he didn't open the door, it was the personal chef that was going to leave. Hated, that you stood alone in this cold house.

He seemed to like to leave you alone. To just go.

You didn't want to sleep at this house. You didn't want to, but where should you go? Where could a place be, where you could hide?

Gojo had places. Not you.

You slept on the couch that evening. Your wedding dress was still on, as you didn't know what in this big house was to wear for you.

"You're an asshole, you know that?" Satoru didn't like to hear that from his best friend, as he stood at his doorstep.

"I just need a place to sleep."

"I said to go to the wedding." Suguru felt like babysitting a toddler.

"And I did."

"Then why are you here? And not with your wife at your house?" Suguru slowly began to lose his patience.

"Can you just let me in, you ass?"

After shaking his head, Suguru opened his door wide enough to let Gojo in.

"Why are you here?" he wasn't going to make it easy for Satoru to forget he left you there.

"Had enough."

"You're such a child." Suguru shook his head. That's what ticked Gojo off.

"Stop it!" He threw his shoes on the floor.

"You can't judge me! Not when you don't know how it feels to have your future stripped from you just because you have been born in this family!"

Suguru kept silent this time.

Your things were shiped to this mansion you should now live in. It wasn't a lot but your necessary clothes. Finally.

Finally you could take the dress off.

The clothing that reminded you that this was real. That your reason in life was already fulfilled and now you should just cease to exist.

No, that wasn't true, was it? You still had to bring an heir.

Will you ever get used to this new prison? You doubt it.

It was so big and cold. So many things but it didn't have this personal touch. It felt empty, unloved. Did Gojo even live here?

Well it seems like he wouldn't if you were here.

It was stupid. You didn't know him, just saw him yesterday for the first time in person. And still it was so clear he wouldn't make it easy for you.

You felt unloved.

"A letter, Mrs. Gojo."

The sudden voice blew you away from your thoughts. Another thing you wouldn't get used to. There were servants for the Clan leader. Like this girl. They were only needed in the kitchen, but it still felt wrong.

And something felt so wrong with being called this name.

"From who?"

The girl before you had a pitiful look. "Your mother." She cleared her throat. "She said, it's about your arrangement."

As you looked down at this paper, it felt like cursed energy was coming from it.

"Oh. Alright, thank you." Hesitating you took the letter.

The girl just nodded and made her way to the kitchen. The silence in this house was haunting.

Again you looked at the letter in your hands, and wished it was only paper. What should you do from now on? How would you spend your life?

Well obviously not with your husband as he wasn't even here.

And you would make sure that he didn't see the letters from your clan.

"You're here." Satoru Gojo didn't seem pleased to see his wife in his house at this evening. Rather displeased, the way he frowned like a little child.

'Well.' you thought. 'That's to damn bad. He should have come to the arrangement hours.'

"Yeah. I have to be."

He didn't even look at you. Humiliation after humiliation. What would your child self say? Seeing that your own husband didn't even look or smile at you? The hopeless romantic would be crushed.

And now they definitely are.

"I see." His voice was barely audible. Oh, what a humiliation this must be for him! The strongest! Not even in control of his own marriage.

You really should pity him. Be understanding. Like the good wife your mother wanted you to be.

But you didn't have the strength to do that. No, you didn't sympathize with this man, that stood in front of you. The one who had the privilege of doing what he wanted till now just because he was blessed. Because he was born a boy.

And you were not.

"My things were brought this morning and Hina showed me around. I already-"

"Who is Hina?" Gojo sounded confused.

"The servant girl. The one who helps to cook?" you couldn't believe him. She even told you that she was working here since 3 years!

"Oh, yeah she. Continue."

You didn't like his tone, you didn't like his attitude, you didn't like that you didn't knew anything about him BECAUSE HE DIDN'T SHOW UP TO ANY-

"I already have my own room. I won't bother you." While trying to keep the bitterness down you started to whisper.

"What?"

As you looked up at him, your mind went blank. For the first time Satoru looked at you. With his big blue beautiful eyes, he looked at you. So mesmerizing that you almost forgot about your bitterness towards him.

Almost.

"I already have my own room. I won't bother you in any mean. We can also eat separately. In fact I would prefer that."

He snorted. "That's childish. Not even eating together."

And that broke the straw. The straw your patience was hanging on sooooo desperately.

"You." you poked his chest with force. "Can't tell me what's childish or not."

Your voice grew a bit. "You can't, not after not attending any meetings, actively trying to get away from me on our wedding day, leaving me alone for our clan people, leaving me alone for the night way to a new house I have to call home now!"

He kept silent. Like all the times you saw him.

"SO EXCUSE ME." You made your way to your room, shouting to make sure he knew what you said.

"IF I THINK MY HUSBAND DOESN'T WANT TO SEE ME AT ALL! AND IF I DON'T WANT TO HAVE MYSELF SUFFER THROUGH IT!"

You slammed the door with force.

You don't think your husband will ever even like you. Or if Gojo would ever even be your husband.

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jjk satoru #gojo angst #arranged marriage #jjk x reader #jjk gojo #jjk

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drunk-person · 4 months ago

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Bravery in love

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

Summary: For Prince Aemond Targaryen, bravery was in war and fighting. Until he met his wife and learned about different forms of bravery.

WARNING: No age restriction. Unhealthy amounts of cuteness and softness, a tiny bit of pain, and one paragraphs of sexual innuendo.

Word cont: 3.500 k

Author's note: Okay I saw a really cute video of a baby discovering that she could move her legs whenever she wanted and she was so cute and I ended up writing this story which is basically a giant fluff hahahaha. English is not my first language so be kind if you can 💕💕.

♡-♡-♡

The sun was already high in Kings Landing on a beautiful warm spring day, the beauty of the season lifted everyone's spirits, but no one had a bigger smile than Princess Y/n, Prince Aemond's wife as she ran to the bedroom door to tell them to call her husband.

The two had been married for two whole years at this point, an arrangement made between Aemond's grandfather and her father. Initially Y/n was apprehensive about the marriage, considering the many terrible stories she had heard of women who had married before her. But upon meeting Prince Aemond, her heart melted for him before she even realized it.

He seemed cold and hard at first when she arrived at the capital, but then suddenly he was so shy and so sweet when they were alone in the garden to talk for the first time. And when Y/n said she liked stories, he smiled, turning his face to the side and told her that he also really liked stories.

Later that night, when Y/n returned to her room, she found a book with a black leather cover and the title "Rhaenys, the bravery of love" next to a very small blue flower. The young lady thought she would faint right there when she touched the soft petals of the flower.

Then came the wedding and after that nothing but happiness with her husband. Every day the two became closer and trusted each other more, to the point that Aemond told her his deepest sorrows and she in return confided hers, and little by little she realized that everything her husband wanted most was just be loved, and that's what she did, she loved him.

Y/n felt happy in a way she never thought would be possible, there was only one problem, it had been a year since the wedding and her belly still hadn't shown any signs of growing. And it wasn't as if she and her husband weren't trying, after they both became acquainted Aemond became thirsty for touch and planted his seed in her every day, sometimes more than once a day, which made her even more worried.

The cruel whispers had already taken over the fortress. Words like "infertility" and "dry womb" became common when they thought she wasn't listening. And as broken as Y/n's heart was, she tried hard to pretend to her husband that it didn't hurt that much. She knew how much Aemond wanted a child, and it was her duty to give him one, guilt plagued her when she thought about it, thinking that she couldn't do so little for a husband who gave her everything she asked for without blinking.

On a winter afternoon with the weather colder than usual in the capital, Y/n was sitting alone in the garden admiring a pair of nightingales that had made a nest in a nearby tree when she felt Aemond's soft but possessive touch pulling her towards him.

-What are you doing here in this cold weather? You'll freeze. - His low voice sounded against her ear and she just smiled weakly.

-I like coming here, it's where we had our first conversation, remember? - She looked at him. - It always makes me happy to think about that day when I don't feel cheerful.

-And why would the most beautiful lady in the realms be sad? - Aemond looked at her deeply, Y/n felt as if he saw through her soul and still trying to hide his sadness, he looked down at the ground.

-Wife. - His gloved fingers guided her chin up and she couldn't escape his gaze again. - I know something is wrong, tell me.

And Y/n could no longer contain herself, the tears that were very well kept ran loose down her face as she hid them in her husband's chest, sobbing and trembling while holding on tightly to him, as if he would evaporate before her.

-I'm sorry, husband! - She sobbed against his chest.

-Y/n, my dear, did someone hurt you? - His voice sounded calm but with barely contained anger as he pulled her closer and closer in an act of protection. - Tell me who it was and I will kill him myself.

-No one has hurt me, husband. - She leaned against him, still pulling on his jerkin. - It's just me and my apparent inability to grant you a child.

-It is not up to you to grant me a child. - He said, looking at her firmly as he brought his hands to her face. - That depends on the will of the gods, when they feel it's time, they will send us a son. Until then, I don't want to see you crying because of this. - He stroked her cheeks with his fingertips and Y/n smiled, her face still slightly wet.

-Now let's go in and have some tea, I don't want you to catch a cold. - He guided her inside by the waist.

That night, amidst moans and groans of love and burning passion, Rhaenys was conceived to the joy and pride of her mother and father.

To Aemond's relief, Y/n had an easy and uncomplicated pregnancy; she just had a burning desire for him and wanted him inside her every hour of the day without rest, something he granted without discussion after a extensive research to find out if it would not pose a risk to his wife or the baby.

The birth was not much different, it was late summer and the weather was starting to get cooler, but even so, it was a difficult time and Aemond did not leave Y/n's side at any time, and the maesters did not dare ask him to leave the birthing chambers more than once after the absolutely deadly look Aemond gave them at the first request.

And when Y/n cried and told her husband that she was scared, he grabbed her hand tightly and whispered only for her to hear.

-I know you can do it, my sweet girl. - Leaving a kiss on her sweaty chest.

-I am not as brave as you. - She cried while shaking her head and holding onto her husband's hands.

-Remember that there is also bravery in love. - Aemond spoke softly, but confidently as he squeezed her hand.

And after hearing that with restored strength at the thought of her little baby, Y/n pushed even harder as she screamed through the pain and could finally hear the sweet cry of her little girl. At that very moment she burst into tears of pure relief and emotion, and when the maester placed her in her arms wrapped in a bloody white cloth she could swear she saw her husband shed a tear or two too.

And with passionate smiles the two chose the name of their little daughter in honor of the conqueror who gave the title to the first gift that Aemond gave her on the day they met. And from that sweet moment on, little Rhaenys became the pride and joy of both their lives.

Almost 7 moons later, already in spring Y/n now felt that her happiness was complete. The sparkle in her eyes could be seen from miles away as she played with her little daughter who had begun to sit up on her own. With each new discovery Rhaenys made, Aemond and Y/n celebrated as if it were a victory in a tournament.

One of the sweetest moments was the day she discovered she could control her own legs. It was something so simple, but so sweet. They were sitting on the bed talking while Rhaenys absentmindedly played with a small wooden sculpture in the shape of a dragon, using it to scratch the teeth that had bothered her since birth.

Suddenly, when they both looked, Rhaenys was laughing as she slowly raised her left leg and watched with a look of delight, only to do the same with her right leg and then lean forward trying to grab her own legs, smiling and babbling.

They both smiled and looked at her full of love, everything was perfect and Y/n had never felt so good in her life. Except for the fact that two days later she discovered that the court had not stopped talking about her. Y/n was walking distractedly towards her own chambers when she heard the whispers and low laughter of other ladies.

-So long to be able to give the prince a child and when she does, it's a girl. - The mockery was clear in that voice.

-Poor Prince Aemond, how much longer will it take until she can give him an heir? - Another lady laughed while whispering. - He'll have to settle for just a daughter, it seems.

Y/n felt her eyes watering at the same moment and accelerated her pace towards the rooms while breathing deeply trying to contain her tears and with a deep sigh she entered her own chambers while wiping away a tear that escaped. As soon as she raised her head and looked at the room she almost smiled at the scene before her.

Aemond sat on the carpet with his long legs crossed with his little Rhaenys held in his arms, his voice sounded softly through the room and now Y/n smiled genuinely when she saw what he was doing.

-Say Kepa. – Aemond smiled gently at his daughter. - Kepa. - He spoke more slowly while gently caressing the child's back.

Her husband was always trying to teach her to say "father" in Valyrian, and the little girl just babbled as she stuck her fingers in her mouth and smiled toothlessly at her father. Aemond swore that she was almost able to do it and that she had even said a syllable to him when they were alone. The prince, feeling like he was being watched, raised his head and smiled softly when he saw his wife standing near the door.

-Your muña is back byka sõvion. (Little butterfly) - He murmured softly to his daughter as he gently shook her and made the little girl smile. Aemond's loving gaze gradually faded as he noticed his wife's melancholy and he carefully placed Rhaenys on the carpet, leaving a soft kiss on the crown of her slightly curly silver hair.

-Umbagon va se ritz byka sõvion. - (Stay on the carpet little butterfly) He whispered as if his little daughter could understand every word and she just screamed and babbled while slapping her hands on the carpet.

The prince walked slowly to his wife and pulled her closer to him, caressing her hips with the tips of his thumbs.

-What's wrong, Issa jorrāelagon? - Aemond murmured against her forehead, leaving a kiss there and then brushing his nose against hers.

-People can be very cruel sometimes. - She sighed against her husband's neck, and Aemond felt his own blood burn in his veins at the prospect of someone being cruel to his Y/n.

-Who had the audacity to say anything to you? - Aemond's voice was restrained, but anger dripped from the corners of his lips and Y/n just shook her head quickly as she laid her head on his chest.

-Just nasty whispers.

-What kind of whispers? - He continued with his voice carefully restrained as he pulled her closer and closer, holding her tightly.

-Does it matter to you that I gave birth to a girl? - She looked him in the eye with pain. - Would you rather have had a son?

-Sīkudi nopāzmi. (Seven hells) - Aemond practically growled with his face contorted with rage as he held Y/n's face firmly between his palms. - Qilōni istan se wretched gīs qilōni naejot vestragon bona naejot ao? Ivestragon issa ābrazȳrys! (Who was the wretched soul who dared to say that to you? Tell me, wife!)

Y/n looked at him confused, not understanding what he had said other than ābrazȳrys. And breathing deeply, trying to control his own nerves, Aemond repeated more calmly while rubbing his wife's arms gently.

-Tell me who was wife. - He asked, looking deeply into her eyes. - Who dared to say such a thing to you?

-I just heard it when I was passing by. - Y/n had seen who it was, but she wouldn't tell him because she knew her husband would do something about it.

Aemond snorted again and pulled her back to him.

-Wife, I don't want you to listen to such nonsense ever again in your life. - He murmured to her. - You and our daughter are everything in my life, and although I wish to have more children, if we had no more besides Rhaenys I would be the happiest man in this cursed land for having you.

-To issi issa glaeson. - He sighed as he tucked a lock of Y/n's hair behind her ear.

-What does that mean? - She asked slightly emotional.

-You are my life. - He repeated, looking firmly into her eyes as he squeezed her hands in his. - And there is nothing I value more than you and our byka sõvion.

He smirked as he looked at Rhaenys who had laid down and was now trying to shove her own foot into her mouth while spluttering and laughing.

-You know me better than anyone else, wife, and I'm honest when I tell you that I've never been happier in my entire life than I am now. Our family brings me joy.

The smile on Y/n's face could warm even those beyond the wall as she jumped on her husband and hugged him happily.

-I love you, husband. - She sighed against his neck, Aemond didn't respond, but he never responded, at least not with those exact words, his heart was much more complex than that.

More moons passed, and Aemond became increasingly enchanted by his daughter, his eyes shining with each evolution and discovery that the little girl made. He never wanted to miss anything, he liked to be there for every little new thing and he made it clear to Y/n that she should call him anytime and that's what she did on one special day.

-Send for my husband! As soon as possible. - Y/n hissed at one of the maids who was passing by the hallway. The young woman nodded and ran without even looking back towards the training courtyard to look for the prince.

-Your grace, forgiveness for the interruption. - The girl said, looking at the ground. - But your wife urgently requested your presence.

Aemond's chest was briefly breathless when he heard that, and without caring about anything else, he dropped his sword on the floor and ran towards his own chambers.

He entered the room calling for his wife with wide eye, but his expression changed from fear to curiosity when he saw her with her index finger against her lips in a clear sign of silence for him, while with her other hand she pointed to the foot of the sofa where Rhaenys was standing for the first time as she tried to walk on her own.

Aemond's jaw dropped, and he felt tears coming to his eye, his little girl was almost walking.

-You forgot. - Y/n smiled and gently pulled off her husband's eyepatch, throwing it on the table. She had convinced him not to wear it around Rhaenys. At first he hesitated, but it proved to be a good thing since the little girl was completely enchanted by the sparkle of the sapphire in her father's eye, always reaching out her hands towards him and gently rubbing the area while she babbled. And Aemond wouldn't admit it out loud, but that small gesture of affection made him feel loved in a whole new way that he had never felt before.

Still with tears in his eye, Aemond turned away he slowly approached the couch as he crouched down next to his daughter, who, upon seeing him, screamed with excitement and took an excited step towards him. And as if all of this wasn't the most magical thing that had ever happened to him, Rhaenys began to babble as she tried to walk towards her father.

-Ke - She babbled waving her free hand towards him and Aemond felt his heart warm. - Ke-pa.

-Konir sagon paktot byka sõvion, māzigon tosh kepa. (That's right, my little butterfly, come with daddy) - He whispered to his daughter with a slightly cloudy voice.

-Kepah! - She screamed in that sweet baby voice as she took her hand off the couch to clap her hands and before she could fall on her butt on the floor, Aemond caught her, preventing her from falling while two tears ran down his eye. Rhaenys looked at him with wide eyes, a little scared after almost falling, but Aemond caressed her back affectionately, calming her.

-Ziry iksos byka sõvion, kepa kessa dōrī ivestragī ao ropagon. (It's okay, little butterfly, daddy will never let you fall.) - He smiled as more tears fell and Rhaenys looked at him enchanted as she once again caressed the sapphire attached to her father's eye. - Dõrī. (Never) - He reaffirmed with a look of pure love.

Rhaenys had said her first words and Y/n did not understand what her husband was saying to her daughter, just a few words that he had already taught her and the sweet nickname he gave Rhaenys, but her heart was so warm that Y/n thought it might be on fire. She could see the love overflowing from her husband's eyes in an uncontrollable way and at that moment Lady Y/n knew that only she and her little Rhaenys were enough.

About a moon later Aemond decided it was time to introduce his daughter to Vhagar. And after a short trip in the house on wheels and a walk along the edge of the royal forest they arrived at the immense dragon. Y/n already knew her, she had even flown on Vhagar with Aemond, but even so she was a little afraid for Rhaenys, something that she told herself was completely unfounded because of all the people in the world she knew that the only one who would never do anything that could put her Rhaenys at risk was Aemond.

The prince had barely approached the dragon with his daughter and she was already looking at him curiously, still with her head lying on the meadow. And while Aemond spoke to her in Valyrian, Y/n just smiled in love, the smile only got bigger after Rhaenys laughed and screamed as she took her little hands to caress the dragon's scales while babbling some incoherent things to her father.

-She'll be a formidable dragon rider one day. - Aemond stated seriously as he smiled sideways at his wife who just rolled her eyes unable to imagine her little girl on a beast that size, but she knew she had to get used to the idea, she was a Targaryen after all.

-If she's as good as her father, she'll be the best of them all. - Y/n smiled as she caressed her husband's back and left a kiss against her daughter's soft hair.

At the answer, Aemond smiled and pulled her by the waist closer to him and his daughter while leaving a sweet kiss on her lips.

-You've told me more than once that you're not brave. - He murmured against her lips as he gently brushed his own lips against hers. - But you were brave to love me when no one else tried. Thank you for being everything I wanted, everything I needed.

After saying that he extended a small flower with blue petals to her and smiled a little shyly as he made Rhaenys more comfortable in his arms.

And with tears in her eyes, Lady Y/n reached out and took the small, soft flower between her fingers, then hugged him and her smiling daughter, knowing that in her husband's strange and rigid language, that was an I love you.

Since Aemond was courageous enough to ride huge dragons, engage in sword duels and so many other dangerous things, but simple words terrified him. She didn't need them, she knew how to read her husband's heart, eyes and actions that told Y/n every hour of every day that he loved her, and even if he didn't love her, she was brave enough to love for both of them.

And with that thought she smiled and kissed him sweetly on the lips as she held both him and her precious Rhaenys close, her beloved most precious possessions.

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celuere · 17 days ago

Text

I want you all over me.

pairing: feixiao x fem!reader

context: feixiao having never experienced a single mating cycle in her life was always something she has been relatively relieved about. That is until she met you

cw: feixiao has a dick here because I said so, breeding, mating press, feral feixiao, HSR didn‘t have any lore on how Foxians reproduce so I had to get creative, story takes place after she wiped the floor with Hoolay, biting

First work on my iPad with the new bluetooth keyboard I ordered, truly a life changer. Not even my fever will stop me from writing Yuri. and also huge thanks to Ray for helping me with the gradient, not all heroes wear capes. Some of them are axolotls!

NSFW utc, MDNI!

Have you ever wondered if Foxians can enter a heat? Well, they do. Just not the way you think. There are a lot of factors that play an important role in a Foxians heat cycle.

For once their relationship status is a strong factor. Are they single, taken or even married? Are they happy in said marriage? Do they want to reproduce with their partner?

Then there is their age. A first Foxians heat cycle is usually triggered in the late 20s, some may experience it earlier, some later. There are even recordings of certain individuals not experiencing a single mating process in their entire lifespan, simply because they didn’t want to, have never found the right person and variety of other reasons. A Foxians urge to reproduce along with the frequencies of their cycles may decrease with age.

Now, once having lived through a mating cycle you are considered „Mature“. No, it doesn’t refer to your mental capabilities, it‘s simply the medical term for Foxians that can reproduce. Because until you didn’t live through at least one of these unbearable cycles, your ability to reproduce is -so the doctors call it- sleeping.

In the young days of the Xianzhou, where arranged marriages were still a thing, a certain medicine was to be used if one or both parties weren’t already mature to trigger their first heat, so they may produce an heir. That was until said medication was banned for good.

Once mature you only develop a steady, balanced heat cycle that may only occur when you’re in a happy, fulfilled relationship. A few may live through it two times a year, others every two months or even just once every year.

And during the actual thing? Unless not separated from their s/o, Foxians become extremely grumpy and frustrated, it‘s better to not bother them during this time. Just avoid them all together. They reach their breaking point once they’re reunited with their partner again. Be sure you won‘t be leaving the house or rather the bedroom for the next two or three days.

Feixiao usually was never bothered by the fact that she didn’t mature yet, never once was it a problem for her. Quite the opposite. Seeing how her Foxian friends and coworkers seemed to disappear off the face of society for a good few days actually relieved her. It meant no interruptions in her training schedule and left no room for distractions.

That was until you came along.

At first the general didn’t think much of it when you first started dating. She‘d touch herself to the memory of you, how good you‘d took her cock into your wet pussy last week, moaning and clawing into her trained shoulders as you begged for her to go faster. To fuck you harder.

She first didn’t think about how annoyed she got over the week because of the smallest thing, recruits being stupid, Jiaqou annoying her, she even gave Moze a whole earful when he tried his luck on her again. Only feeling better during the mornings and evenings she‘d spent with you in her arms.

It reached a certain point on a Friday Night. Jingyuan sent her home after she almost lost her shit at Hana because of a simple misunderstanding from her side.

„Come back once you’ve calmed down.“, he said.

The funny thing? Nobody was angry with her. Not Jingyuan. Not Jiaqou. Not Moze. Not Hana. Nobody. Everybody already knew what was going on with the Merlin‘s Claw. Except for the poor woman herself.

Or you.

Once Feixiao opened the door to your shared home and inhaled your scent, it‘s as good as over for the both of you.

Poor you was just dusting off the shelves in the living room when your girlfriend practically threw herself right at you, hands clawing your shirt and pants right off of your body. Even your underwear covered too much for her liking.

Her body felt too hot. The general had the impression she‘d burn to ashes from the inside out if she didn’t bury her already throbbing cock inside your cunt within the next moments.

„F-Fei, what- Hah!“, a bite mark on your most sensitive part on your neck never sounded better to her.

She needed you carnally. Fucking wasn’t enough. She needed to breed you throughly until neither couldn’t think straight anymore. Until all that’s left inside of your spent pussy is her cum.

„Quiet, darling.“, leaving your neck with a mark that will surely take on a pretty purple color during the next few days. Goodness, she might as well died without the tightness of your cunt.

In between the fog of clothes flying to the floor, sloppy kisses and Feixiao‘s growling right into your ear, you didn’t even notice when exactly she shoved her length into you. Suddenly she was all over you, inside you, digging her claws into your skin so she could drag you on and off her cock in a faster manner, soon forming creamy ring around her base that drove her close to madness.

She wanted nothing more right now than for you to carry out her babies, the sheer thought only fuel to the fire that’s seemingly devouring her from the inside.

She didn’t try to angle her hips to hit your weak spot better, she didn’t care how you’re supposed to cover up the bite marks on your neck and shoulders, not even your beautiful tits were spared of her teeth.

„Fckin‘ take my cock into that pussy… g-get it all i-in there…“, she‘d mutter as she watches you melt over her for another time, your mixed juices oozing out on the sides whenever she‘d fuck back into you. That sofa will probably have to be replaced when she is done with you.

When your legs were pressed up against your chest that was probably the moment your soul disconnected from your body. Her using you more or less as a personal fleshlight was more than you could ever handle, even when she fucked her third load into your cunt, you just hoped she would keep on fucking out her heat with you.

If every cycle felt like this for her, Feixiao could only pray to Lan to be blessed by this amazing occurrence once every month. The warming sensation of your pussy tightening around her dick every so often, those pretty moans spilling out of your mouth with each time she rolled her hips against yours, only adding to the already torturous pressure against your cervix. She could go on like this for days.

There was one time where she accidentally slipped out when pulling back, never in her life did something piss her more off than seeing her dick outside your cum-filled pussy. Her hands immediately went back around your hips and then she pushed herself back in. With one, smooth thrust you welcomed her back inside your warmth, that absolute guttural moan the both of you let out was surely to be heard outside by any random passerby.

But don’t think she will be done with you after a day. She‘ll make sure you fall asleep with your pussy warming her dick and she‘ll make sure you also get to wake up with it, only so she can mess you up all over again.

Maybe being mature isn’t so bad after all.

#honkai star rail #star rail #hsr #feixiao #feixiao x reader #hsr smut #honkai x reader #honkai star rail x reader #feixiao smut #hsr fanfic #xianzhou luofu #hoyoverse #x reader #yuri

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just-some-random-blogger · 30 days ago

Text

Tormented Spirit | 4

Part 1 2 3 4 5

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 4k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, DD:DNE, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: ayo i did it again (rambled). i have no idea where i went with this but it really wENT yknow, but hey you get fluff!!!!!. ALSO (im looking at you cristi) if it wasnt clear this is set, like, pre-show T_T just before ep 1 lmao (ily cristi im just going through it with my writing) | cross posted on ao3

tagging: @arabellasleopardcoat

You did not realize being made a spectacle would be as exhausting as it was. Truly, all you did as your prince brought you to the training quarters of the City Watch, was stand, force a smile and feel their gaze upon you as Daemon instructed them to roughhouse for your (but really his) entertainment. Yet, it felt like you had been running nonstop and only now found reprieve.

Perhaps it was because it was really your mind that was running with the thought of how you snubbed your twin. In truth, you knew Gwayne understood your actions, for he was really the only person who understood you, and yet that was precisely why it ate at you so much. How could you do such a thing to your brother?

At some point, Daemon is too distracted by his sparring soldiers to remember you were there. By the time they began to drink, you gave word to one of the guards and made your way back to the Keep yourself.

You head for your brother's chambers, set on setting things straight. You do not find him there however, and your mind begins to wander. Was he avoiding you? Was he cross?

Upon asking one of his servants, you find that he was tasked with duty from the Lord Hand. Part of you feels comforted by the answer, but then you wonder if the task had something to do with you. You try not to think about it as you head back to your own chambers.

You are ripped out of your train of thought when you hear your name called.

Queen Aemma stands across you, hand on her belly, smile on her lips, "have you come to worry on me, good sister?"

Your back straightens and you clasp your hands in front of you, "my queen. I-I-"

"I do hope not," she stretches, leaning back into her hands, "the last thing I want right now is to have yet another person try to tell me what is best for me and my babe."

You shake your head, turning to your feet, "the last thing I would do is impose my inexperience of child bearing upon you."

Aemma's face softens. She's seldom seen someone who looks as though they suffer more than her. "Excellent."

You lift your gaze.

"Come keep me company then and distract me with tales lacking child bearing."

You are taken aback by the invitation and watch the queen slowly waddle back into her quarters. You delay to realize you should be assisting then promptly rush up to her side. You offer her your arm and she gratefully takes it. She is exhausted by the time you reach her bed.

"Thank you," she sighs, wiping the sweat on her temple.

"Of course," you help her put her feet up. You look over your shoulder momentarily, "have you no one to call to? Shall I call for someone?"

"No," she waves you off, "I merely walked out of the room and looked out of the window for a while. I am fine."

You nod and pull away, fidgeting with your fingers, "is there something I might do for you?"

"Yes," she reaches for your arm, "sit."

So you do.

"And tell me, why on earth did Daemon bring you to the City Watch?"

You freeze upon hearing that.

There is a playful curiosity upon Aemma's features, but you no thin think she asks to embarrass you. Still, you open your mouth and begin to stutter, "h-how did you kno-w?"

She chuckles, leaning deeper into her pillow, "oh, my dear," she rubs her belly, "I am privy to all gossip in the Keep. Tis the only activity one such as I can do in my state. Incidentally, had the opposite been true, it is all the servants speak of—" she slowly reaches for you, pushing your hair back.

You are made acutely aware of the marks on your collar again.

"—how the fragile lamb tamed the ferocious dragon."

You chuckle dryly and stare at your lap. You pick at your nails, feeling your throat tighten, "I tame no one, my queen."

As Aemma looks at you, she thinks again she's not laid her eyes upon someone that looks more pained than herself. The sun was already setting, but the marks on your collarbones were still visible. She wonders if you at least enjoyed yourself when you received those marks. "Perhaps not yet."

You chuckle once more.

"He is stubborn and brash, but he is also loyal and passionate."

"Loyal to himself," you turn to her, "with a passion for deviance."

You are unnerved by the sudden call of your name. Your heart races at her misplaced familiarity.

This might be why you blurt out, "I am no fool."

She straightens up, "I did not say you were."

"I know I am feeble in form, but not in mind. I am a mere piece in someone else's game of chess, but every piece has its purpose, even pawns."

Aemma frowns. Her forehead curls, "and pawns can turn into the most powerful piece."

You stare at her belly.

"The Queen."

You do not tell her it is only true in board games.

"Does it frighten you?"

Your eyes quirk up to hers. Her violet eyes are much softer than Daemon's. She does not clarify, but the way in which she rubs her swollen stomach makes it clear to you what she meant. You rub your own as dread pricks through you, "I do not know how it is possible for anyone not to be frightened."

It is her turn to chuckle.

It perturbs you.

"I will not lie to you," she shifts in her spot, "there is no greater pain in the world than becoming a mother, I think..."

It is mortifying to hear, considering you know how many times Queen Aemma has conceived and given birth. How much more painful it must be, as she remains to have one child. You do not think all your years of pain could ever prepare you for such loss.

"... that can be the most gratifying."

You are taken aback when she reaches for your hand. Her palms are soft, just as her expression.

"I do not presume to know you, but I find that whatever pain I have is eclipsed by love I feel for my babe. Still, when the thought of childbirth gets too much, I retreat into something I loved before my babe."

Your brows furrow.

"Tapestries and tea time," she tilts her head, "and Viserys."

You do not know how to feel as she pulls away.

She rubs her forehead, "even speaking is exhausting when you are with child. Forgive me, but I think I would like to go to sleep now."

You shake your head and stand, "there is nothing to be forgiven. I will leave you to your own comforts," you curtsy.

You roam the candlelit halls as you digest the queen's words. You were on your way back to your chambers, then you remember your brother. You promptly head to his room, finding the door open. "Gwayne?"

Emerge two servants carrying a trunk, greeting you before walking off. Your brows furrow as you watch them. You turn back when you hear your name called.

Your twin walks over, still in his doublet and leather shoes. You begin to get nervous, "you're leaving?"

"Preparing to," he says, eyes falling on your collarbones, "the is still the matter of the tourney."

"Tourney?"

"The queen is set to give birth soon— you must not let that man dishonor you so," he quips through clenched teeth, pulling you into his room.

You are dragged inside and he releases you once you're in front of his bed. He grabs his blanket and drapes it on your shoulders. He gathers you hair and pulls it from underneath, "play dumb if you must."

You knit your brows.

"Bat your lashes at him to have your way."

You tighten the blanket around yourself, "I already have."

"To protect me," he tilts his head, "protect yourself, sister. Put yourself first, always."

You clench your jaw.

"He will be kinder if he believes you to be a bimbo."

You scoff, "must I do such a thing?"

Gwayne narrows his eyes, "he is shaming you purposefully out of spite—for me and our father."

The idea makes you queasy because you knew it was true. Your brother was sensible because he got his sense from you, and yet... you find yourself thinking that is it so farfetched for the prince to simply want to show you off proudly? Even in something like this, you were not even being thought of. "And acting a fool will save me from spite?"

He looks at you the way he did whenever you said something stupid. It offends you because it was not a stupid question. He speaks to you, as if you were four, "if he asks you to wear something compromising again, tell him all your dresses are being washed."

You chuckle dryly, "you honestly think he would believe such a blatant lie?"

"He need not have to," he scoffs, "it's not like he'll go through the trouble of inspecting your closet." He places a hand on your arm, "come. I will walk you to your room."

Something unpleasant bubbles up your throat as Gwayne leads you out. As you exit his chambers, you pull away and choke out, "do you think me a fool, devil?"

He sighs and rolls his eyes, "do not be-"

"Do you truly think that I am slowwitted and senseless?"

Your ears ring because of how says your name. You step back when he tries to take your arm again. Gwayne raises a finger and a brow, "I've had a long day. I do not wish to quarrel."

"And I have not?!" you quip, "answer the question!"

He says your name again, firmer, as though you were a petulant child.

"Just fucking tell me!" you snap.

"Gods!" he wipes his face, "you're acting fucking stupid, I'll tell you that!"

You scoff and shove him with all your might. It barely makes him recoil, but you get your point across, especially when you walk away.

Gwayne sighs and calls your name, following after you.

"I hate you!" you spit back, unwilling to turn back as you feel your eyes begin to water.

"I did not mean it," he calls, quickly coming up to your side, "why would you ask me something you clearly know is not-"

"Then why would you reduce me as such?" you stop in your tracks to glare at him.

Gwayne freezes and scowls back, "why do you think I tell you anything?"

"Stupidity will not save me, you fucking idiot," you blurt back, doing your best to hold back your tears.

"It will fucking save you from scheming rats," he grabs your arms and shakes you gently.

You shake your head as tears stream down your cheek.

"H-"

"Do not make me."

He purses his lips.

"You know I will do it if you tell me to," you mutter, "do not make me."

Guilt eats him whole as you weep. It never gets easier. You'd think that he'd be indifferent to it by now, but he knows the great effort you put in withholding your emotions. It hurts him even more, if anything. He sighs in defeat, dropping his head before wiping your cheeks. He attempts to hush you.

You only further fall apart, "I would be remembered as a stupid, dying girl."

He speaks your name, as if to correct you.

"Please don't leave," you mumble weakly.

"Listen to me-"

"No, promise me you won't le-"

"I am heir to Oldtown," he interrupts, "my place can never be at your side."

"So you forsake me now?"

"Listen," he speaks firmly, "you are my twin sister. There is nothing I have not shared with you, and you know this."

You look down for a moment then shake your head, "I wish you kept a few things to yourself..."

Gwayne releases a breath at your words. He leans down to look you in the eye, "says the woman who bares love bites on her neck for all to see."

You shove him away and tighten your arms around yourself, "ass. That's different."

He rolls his eyes, placing his hands on his hips, "how?"

"I did not chose this," you mutter.

His expression falls. He balls his hands into fists, "I would call our house to banner for you."

You scoff, looking away, "don't be ridiculous."

"An affront to my twin is worse than one to myself," he points a finger to the ground.

"I am his wife," you look back to him.

"And I am a man of honor," he proclaims, "if he kills me, then all will know I died protecting my sister from his malice."

"You idiot," you shake your head at him, "do you think the people would believe the words of a prince or a dead man?"

"A princess."

You stare at him.

"With a tender heart," he takes your arm, leading you off.

You take a moment before responding, "you mean a stupid, dying princess."

"You are not dying," he gives you a serious look.

"We are all dying."

He sighs, "a jolly thought."

"I am dying sooner than you howev-"

"No," he interrupts, "you will outlive me. I will die in battle."

You glare at him, "we cannot both be yearning for death, moron."

"I do not yearn no more than you do," he raises a brow.

You stare at him for a moment. He is in denial. You almost tell him that you still pray the same prayer he caught you praying all those nights ago. You do not.

"You will get better, sister," he says, "I simply won't allow you not to."

You look away, "ever imperious."

His expression slips for a moment as he imagines a world without his twin. It is so grotesque, he cannot bear it. He hides behind humor, "you mean charismatic, dashing, and valiant."

"And stupid."

"And incredibly well-spoken, witty, charming-"

"Shut it."

"-attractive, gallant, seemly—"

You bid each other good night with a smile. Neither of you knew how broken your spirits were after your conversation though, and you never will.

Your head lies heavy on your pillow. You are unsure if you are grateful or resentful that you sleep tonight by yourself.

Meanwhile, Daemon is startled awake by the words of his subordinate. He sets his cup of ale down and chuckles in disbelief, narrowing his eyes at one of the three men he had been drinking with, "what?"

The man clarifies, shifting in his seat adjacent his commander, "you've changed since being wed, my prince. For the better."

The prince chuckles yet again, "pray, tell."

Someone else answers for him, "you have been more gracious during drill training."

Daemon's brows quirk.

"And you have been more forgiving as of late," another blurts.

The first who spoke finally says, "you do not drink with us as often as before. This is the first since you've gotten married."

He scoffs and shakes his head, "so. You think I've grown soft?"

The three immediately straighten up and even manage to muster in unison, "no, commander."

Daemon downs his ale and shakes his head, "I'll show you soft."

The next morn, the queen's words repeat in your mind as you awaken. Retreat in what you love. What was it that you loved? You think of Gwayne, but he is set to leave, Alicent, but you do not wish to burden her with your woes... your father...

Oh... your mother. You could retreat in her.

You sit up and rub your face when your servants enter to wake you.

You lose your resolve to light a candle at the temple at when you realized you'd be dying girl retreating to her dead mother. Pathetic.

By the time your servants are helping you fix your hair, you ask them, "if you could do whatever you wanted for a day, what would you do?"

The servants turn to each other then break into giggles. One says, "I would spend a day with my Gwilym."

You watch them in the mirror as they squeal under their breath.

You turn to your nails. You cannot retreat into Daemon.

After they're finished squealing, the other speaks, "mmm. I might go foraging for fruits and flowers."

You lift your head upon hearing that.

"And if I had my pay that day, I'd buy myself some lemon cake."

Your lips part at the idea, "you absolute wit." You turn to her as much as you could as she fixed your hair, "what a brilliant idea."

She chuckles and curtsies, "thank you, milady."

By the time your ward comes, you're already at the door, eager to greet him.

He examines your smile. His brows knit and belly feels uneasy as you take his arm.

You narrow your eyes at his face, doing your best to distinguish who exactly you were face to face with. You forget if it was Arryk with the longer beard or Erryk. You mumble as you make a face, "Erryk?"

"Yes," he nods, feeling stomach rolls, "how are you, my princess?"

You grin, squeezing his steel clad arm as much as you could, "oh, how good of me to get it right. I am glad to have guessed well."

Erryk chuckles under his breath, "you wound me. Am I not set apart in your eyes?"

You stiffen at his expression. You mistake the softness in his eyes for hurt, which is why you release his arm and begin to apologize, "oh, ser. I do not mean to offend, I-"

Erryk raises his hands, "no, my lady. Twas a jest."

Your eyes widen at the clarification. You laugh awkwardly, "ah... apologies."

"Nay," he shakes his head, "I apologize. I do not wish to cause you discomfort."

You huff and give a curt nod, "then," you take his arm again, "I ask that you humor me today, ser Erryk."

His brows furrow. He is intrigued.

"I..." you trail off, gathering your resolve, "wish to go out and pick flowers today." you profess with a soft smile. You raise a finger, "I am am not a fussy passenger. I do not mind sitting in front or behind you on horseback, but I fear I do not know how to control a horse on my own very well," you look away in thought, "we do not have to go very far out of King's Landing, so if it is not possible to get a horse, I will not complain if we walk."

Erryk finds himself smiling as you continue to justify yourself.

"I would not take very long to pick flowers, but if I do," you turn back to him, "I would not refute you if you think we must away."

He nods at your words, "have you broken fast yet?"

You both walk off. You shake your head, "I have not. But I will be quick!"

He shakes his head, "my brother mentioned that you do not like eating alone. If it be agreeable with you, we can break fast together."

You stop in your tracks upon hearing this, "ser Arryk mentioned this?"

Erryk simply nods.

The thought pinches your heart, "it... it was a passing comment. I did not think it noteworthy."

His brows knit at your expression, "do not be so surprised. It is our duty to care for you."

Care for you. You turn to your feet, feeling overwhelmed with emotion. It takes a moment for you to comport yourself, but then you manage turn back at him and smile, "how the gods have blessed me."

His gut reacts to your smile. He releases a breath to calm himself, "we can pick flowers after breaking fast, my princess."

You gasp, "so you agree?!"

Erryk face falls in confusion.

"You would allow me to pick flowers?!" you pull away, nearly jumping up and down in excitement.

"I..." his mouth hangs low, "I do not allow you."

You tilt your head, chuckling in confusion.

"If you instructed me to bring you the moon, I would do my best to claim it for you."

You laugh. You laugh because you miss his sincerity, for it is unfamiliar. You laugh because you only know the kindness of your brother, who cherishes you dearly, yet ridicules you in the same breath. This is why you say, "do not mock me, ser. It is not a crime to enjoy picking flowers."

You expect him to reply the way your twin does: 'I did not say it was a crime,' but you are taken aback by the novelty of his response. Erryk says, "the crime lies with whom would mock such a gentle soul."

You are glad he does not wait for you to respond, because you did not know if you had anything to respond with.

Erryk is silent as you eat in the solar. At first, it was because he second guessed his offer to break fast with you, as it felt so obvious that he was overstepping. But then it was because he was enamored by you and the great many tales you share of eating with your family, picking flowers with your siblings, swimming in rivers with your brother. He did not expect such a temperate outpour from you. He tells himself that he must do all he can to preserve it.

He is selfish in wanting to forfeit a horse. He knows soon enough his brother will come to have his shift, and he wants to keep all your stories to himself; walking will make his time with you longer. At the same time, he fears your body might give in if you were to walk very far, so he settles that you ride on horseback and that he lead your horse on foot.

He is glad of his choice, for had he been on horseback with you, he would not have seen the way your face shone at the sight of the meadow upon reaching it. The moment is quickly fleeting however, and he soon jolts to catch you when you nearly leap off the horse.

Erryk helps you down and is soon forgotten as you run off to gather flowers.

He follows after you with no sense of urgency. He allows you to frolic to your hearts content while he slowly leads the horse towards your general direction.

"ERRYK!" you gasp in horror. It is so sudden, he releases his reins and runs towards you.

"My prin-"

"We do not have a basket!" you slap a hand on your forehead, "I am doomed."

He freezes at your words, debating if that is truly the cause of your distress.

"I am doomed to pick flowers only until my hands are full," you sigh and shake your head. You frown at him and point, "but just over there I see a hundred flowers I wish to bring back home with me."

Erryk's forehead curls but then he realizes you were serious. He finds himself chuckling before sighing in relief.

You scowl, "and you mock me again"

He chuckles louder, placing a hand on his breastplate, "I do not mock! I merely find amusement in such an issue so easily solved."

You scoff, "pray, tell how would you solve my issue, ser knows-a-lot?"

Erryk belly laughs. He shakes his head and offers his hand, "I will hold your flowers for you."

Any trace of offense instantly disappears. You perk and step forward, "oh! I have been blind!"

He tries to take the flowers from you but then he's frozen in place as you suddenly begin tucking in his beard.

"Indeed," you snicker, "blind as a bat."

You are both covered in flowers when you return to the Keep, him more than you, for Erryk's skill in securing flowers in people's hair was not nearly as good as yours. Most of what he had put in your brown hair had fallen when you reached the gates. The rest are threatened off by the wind as he helps you down the horse. His on the other hand—

You chuckle, catching a flower that slipped from your head, placing it by Erryk's ear, "they should call you the knight of flowers, ser."

He bows, "I would be honored to be known as such."

"Oh, gods."

You both turn upon hearing the voice.

Gwayne looks at Erryk as though he was stabbed on the side, then turns to you, "you've victimized the poor man."

You roll your eyes.

"-held him captive and tortured him with pretty things," your twin points a finger as he walks towards you, "no wonder you could not be found. You were doing evil things."

You shove your brother, but he dodges.

He makes a face, "laggardly fellow."

You turn to Erryk then point at your brother, "why do you delay? Seize him at once!"

Gwayne gasps, placing a hand on his chest, "behold: the cruel princess."

Your upper lip curls, "the ugly thing insults your lady," you shoot Erryk a look, "apprehend him!"

Erryk watches the two of you bicker, unsure if he should, in fact, apprehend Ser Gwayne.

When he does not, your brother says again, "behold!" the auburn haired man gestures vaguely, "your cruelty inspires no loyalty from you— aw!"

You snatch your his ear and pull him down. You drag your brother all the way to a crate and force him down, "I'll show you cruel."

"Do not think— AW!" Gwayne clutches his cheek when you slap him.

"Silence or your torture will be more severe," you hiss, promptly placing flowers you still had on hand on his head.

Though Gwayne grumbles the whole time, he makes no attempt to save himself from the proclaimed torture. Very truly, he loathed it so when you made a dolly out of him, but after you sobbed so bitterly when he fled you one instance when you were still children, he could never stomach the thought of attempting such a thing again.

And— he catches the way your lips tug upward, you only ever smiled the way you did now when you were torturing him. Still, he cannot help his scowl when you grin at him to behold your work.

You pinch his cheeks, "my lovely twin."

Gwayne groans and swats your hands away, glaring as he stands, "I abhor you, sister."

You giggle and take his arm, "and I do so love deeply, my brother."

"Unhand me," he says flatly.

"You cannot command a princess, you lowly lord," you snuggle into his arm.

Gwayne turns to Erryk, "retrieve your thing."

Erryk opens his mouth, but then catches the look on your face. He is powerless against your pup-like expression. He clears his throat, "my shift has ended, ser. I will notify my brother at once to see what can be done."

Gwayne's jaw drops.

You throw your head back in a laughter.

He scoffs, turning to you, "how uselessly loyal you've made him."

"What is the meaning of this?"

You three turn. You pull away from your brother upon seeing Daemon. He is covered in dirt, and blood, and anger.

He glares at you, "why is it I find you here twice, wife?" He scrutinizes the flowers on Erryk's beard and hair, then quips harshly as he turns to your brother, "should you not be waiting on me?"

"Why do you think I am here?" you mutter, not missing a beat. You walk over to him, and he tries to intimidate you with his expression.

Gwayne and Erryk are ready to act but then Daemon's face falters when you grab your skirt and try to wipe some of the dirt off his face.

The truth, of course, is that you were not waiting on your husband; him finding you here was simply a coincidence, but the genuine concern that clouds your features makes it the lie indistinguishable.

He is so wholly bewildered by your gentle touch, he is unable to react.

You release your skirt and wipe his cheek with your long sleeve, "I shall have a bath drawn for you." You take his hand, "come, I-"

He pulls out of your grasp.

You expect him to lash out on you. He does not.

"I have a council meeting to attend."

A line forms between your brows when catch the blood on his armor, "but you are hurt."

Daemon is stoic. He stares at the lone flower by your ear, "it is not mine."

You release a soft breath and nod. A gust of wind makes you aware of the bud by your temple. You pull the flower out of your hair and stare at it for a moment. You show it to Daemon, who spares but a moment's glance at it. He involuntarily pulls his head back when you place the flower in his hair.

You are unfazed by the look he gives you. You secure the flower then swipe the dirt on his chin, "I will make sure your bath is finished after your meeting."

It is your turn to be taken aback. You freeze when he catches your wrist before you pull away. "Wait for me," he mumbles.

You raise your brows.

He does not repeat himself.

You nod slowly, "I shall... after having the servants dra-"

"Your princess requires you to accomplish a task for her," Daemon looks past you, looking between Erryk and Gwayne. He grits his teeth, pulling you toward him, "do it."

You look over your shoulder, "please inst-"

"They know what to do, wife," Daemon blocks your vision, "tis I your attentions must be fixed upon."

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seresinhangmanjake · 20 days ago

Note

I love all your Feyd works! Thank you.

My request is regrding a sensitive topic. So if it makes you feel uncomfortable, please feel free not to write it.

Reader has arranged marriage with Feyd. After a few years they all discover (including her) that she has fertility issues and has trouble getting pregnant so the Baron wants them to divorce. Wife is becoming hopeless. But Feyd who’s utterly in love and devoted to his wife will not have it and pledges loyalty to her.

Worth To Him

Notes/Warnings: obviously this is about fertility problems. It is a sensitive topic. If this bothers you, please do not read. Mention of period sex.

Words: 1500

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag list

Sobs wrack your body. One after another after another that keeps your breaths shallow and ragged. Tears coat your lashes, weighing them down. You gave up trying to see clearly through them an hour ago and let yourself get lost in the haze of blindness.

You can’t stop it. You haven’t been able to stop for days. You clutched your pillow like a lifeline, crying into the plush material in a way you haven’t since you were a child. You’ve really proven yourself useless now. You officially have nothing to offer this planet, and the Baron has made that well-known. But what else can you expect when you are incapable of doing the things that are expected of you? How can you expect not to lose the one thing you care about if you cannot give him what he needs?

“If you cannot provide him an heir, you are worth nothing” is what the Baron declared in front of all that exists of his court.

Nothing—the word bounced around the walls of your skull before it finally sank in. You’ve never been nothing until now. You’ve always held some sort of value in some manner or other, even if that manner is in being a political pawn. But no. Here, now, you’re nothing to these people.

At first, you pleaded with him, nearly fell to your hands and knees and told him you’d only been trying for a few months. A few months barely qualifies as adequate time. On your home planet, medical intervention is not discussed until the couple has gone a year with no success. But you’re not on your home planet; there is no medical intervention, and all the Baron said in response was: A few months is too long. You will divorce in a week's time.

Feyd doesn’t know. For the last five days, he’s been on Arrakis, and it was on the third day of his absence that you once again woke to stained sheets. He’ll be disappointed in you, just like the Baron, just like the people of Giedi Prime, just like your parents who agreed to marry you to Feyd for the sake of an alliance that will soon be broken.

When he returns, they’ll tell him, and he’ll nod with acceptance because that is what he does under order, and you’ll be shipped off. You’ll never see him again. He’ll remarry. He’ll become a father to a child by a woman who is not you. He’ll raise what the people want. He’ll do them proud.

You wonder if he’ll miss you as you will miss him. Will he ever think of you and wish you were in her place? Will he look at the children she’s borne him and wonder what your children would have looked like had you the chance to have them? Will he see their hair and imagine your locks flowing down to their little shoulders? If he peers into their eyes, will he prefer them a shade to match yours instead of hers? You wonder if he’ll be filled with sorrow at what could have been.

Selfish to think it. There’s no reason to assume he will not enjoy the pleasure his new wife will offer. Neither are you fair in hoping that when he’s inside of her, making the children the Baron demands, he will be thinking of you.

You cry harder. Your pillow will take ages to dry. Perhaps you’ll move on to his. Soak in the scent of him before you’re ripped away from him and returned to what will be considered by many the end of your life. No other Lord, or future Lord, will take you, not after being owned by a Harkonnen—tainted meat, as they say. You’ll be a burden on your family, an embarrassment to your House’s people, a waste of valuable blood.

—

Touch stirs you: a soft brush of fingertips over your tear-stained cheek, a thumb grazing over your parted mouth.

Then a voice. “Wake up.” Your groan of resistance is cut short by a press of lips against yours. A quick peck and then another. “Wake up,” it says, and then one more kiss, much longer this time, that you return before bothering to open your eyes. Your arms wrap around a familiar neck. A tongue gently glides along yours. And then it’s gone. Stolen from you. You want it back.

Your eyes snap open. At the sight of him sitting beside you, you gasp, quickly scrambling onto his lap. He holds you without question or word. He holds you close to him. You hold him like you never will again.

Leaning into his body, you push him down onto the mattress and he lands on his back with a chuckle. Your legs straddle his hips, your weight resting comfortably on top of his, and with his hand in your hair, he pulls you back into a kiss. Gentle at first, a caress, then harder, needier, greedier. He could bruise you if he wanted, leave his mark, and you invite him to. Something to take back home with you—a bruising kiss. You hope it hurts. You hope you internally bleed and purple blooms around your mouth. You hope it never fades and you wear the reminder of him for the rest of your life.

His lips part. His tongue is back in your mouth, asking for yours. You savor the slick warmth, knowing you’ll never again be kissed like this. To be honest, you never thought you would be kissed like this at all. You didn’t know kisses like this existed. If someone had told you a year ago that this man would be kissing you this way, with a passion you wouldn’t have dreamed him capable of releasing, you’d have laughed them out of the room.

He unlocks your mouths for a breath and gifts you a smile. Rare. Almost out of place on his face. The first one you received was five months into your marriage, and you’ve never gotten used to them.

“I missed you,” he says, tucking a few loose strands of hair behind your ear.

You want to tell him how you’ve missed him, how painful it’s been without him by your side, but you don’t know that you can speak the words, not without every emotion you’ve felt over the last few days bubbling to the surface and overpowering your joy at seeing him—the last time you’ll greet him upon his return before you’re gone.

He frowns. “You didn’t miss me?” he asks, and since you can’t deny him a damn thing, you gather the will to say: “Of course I did,” but your throat catches midway through. You can’t look at him. He allows it for a few seconds, giving you a chance to meet his stare on your own, but when you don’t, his fingers on your chin turn your face back to his so you can no longer avoid the prying blue shade of his irises.

“What is it?” he says.

“I know he told you.” There’s a brief pause before your husband hums in acknowledgment. Fingertips trace up and down your spine over the thin material of your nightgown. “The doctor was ordered to examine me after I bled. He’s not sure I’m able to give you a baby. And the Baron–”

“My uncle does not make my decisions for me,” he declares, and you’re so stunned by the defiance that it takes you a moment to collect yourself.

“Feyd, do you not understand? I don’t know if I can do it,” you tell him. “My body is–”

“Perfect,” he interrupts. “You’re perfect, and you’re mine. You will never belong to another man, nor will I belong to another woman.”

“Neither of us has a choice.”

“You believe so?”

Your brow pinches, mouth setting in a line. If he’s playing a game, you’re not enjoying it. “As if you aren’t aware of who has the power here.”

“I am aware,” he says. “But Rabban is dead. I’m all that’s left of our line. If he wants his heir, then I’m keeping my wife.”

He speaks with such certainty that the charge of excitement you get whenever you watch him take command of his armies seeps into you, giddily wiggling all of your little nerve endings. But the feeling fades as fast as it came. It changes nothing. Whether or not he defies his uncle does not alter your circumstances.

You sigh. “But what of your heir?”

“We’ll keep trying,” he says. “You’re not going anywhere. I'm too attached. He doesn’t get to marry me to a woman like you and then take you away.”

“A woman like me, who might not be able to give you what you need,” you say. “Why aren’t you bothered?”

“Having my heir is not where your worth lies to me. If we cannot have a baby, we will take someone else's,” he tells you without snicker or grin. His fingers fist into the material of your nightgown. “Now take this off. I want my wife.”

“I am still bleeding.”

He scoffs. “When have I ever cared?”

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha fic #austin butler #dune 2

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theoldsports · 1 year ago

Text

married.

Coriolanus Snow x reader | 5.5k words

alcohol makes consent messy, substance abuse, manipulation, arranged marriage, public humiliation, two-way abusive relationship <3

Coriolanus may well replace Lupin as my favorite guy to write for. he’s fucked up. i can’t fix him, but i could certainly make him worse.

As quietly as possible, [Y/N] closed the door to Coriolanus’s lavish new apartment behind her. She didn’t particularly want him to know that she had left the apartment in the first place. There were always too many questions.

[Y/N] had recently moved in with Coriolanus since their engagement. Her parents had arranged their marriage with his grandmother, affectionately called the Grandma’am not long before she passed. Coriolanus was about the most desirable bachelor in the Capitol. Not only was he an excessively handsome twenty-three year old, but he was also growing increasingly wealthy and had recently received his first assignment as a Gamemaker working on creating a new arena structure for the Hunger Games. Everyone who was anyone in polite society knew of Coriolanus Snow.

And [Y/N] hated him with everything she had. She had to see his defiant smirk in school every day for years since they were twelve or so. She hid from him every chance she got at home. [Y/N] slept in another room away from him. The only advantage of their marriage were the politics and name recognition for the both of them.

“I didn’t realize you were going out.” Coriolanus said flatly, snapping [Y/N] from her thoughts. She hadn’t even realized he had been in the apartment’s common area. He was sitting calmly in an putrid-looking armchair, alarmingly still.

[Y/N] gasped and clutched her chest in surprise. “Is there a problem with my leaving?” She said quickly.

“No problem.”

[Y/N] looked at him curiously. “Okay.” She said and moved passed him to her bedroom.

After a moment of pause, Coriolanus appeared in her doorway. He leaned against her doorframe with a hand in his pocket. “Where were you, by the way?” He asked plainly.

“I don’t see how that’s your business.”

“It was beginning to get late. Our engagement party’s in two hours. I cannot very well attend an engagement event without my fiancée. So. Where were you?”

“Dry cleaner’s.”

Coriolanus let out a scoff. [Y/N] could see him get hot under the collar. “You expect me to believe you were—Where’s the laundry?” Coriolanus questioned.

[Y/N] reached into her coat pocket for the stub of her laundry receipt. “Dropping off, not picking up. You’re on Lucky Flickerman’s next week. Dropping off my dress ahead of time. Anything left you would like to accuse me of?” [Y/N] sighed, leaned against her desk chair.

“Do not speak to me like that,” Coriolanus begun, sighing. It was obvious that he felt undue humiliation from her response. “It’s childish and unbecoming.”

“So is your being a hypocrite.” [Y/N] snapped back instantly.

The pair fought daily. Never had Snow laid a hand on her, but it wouldn’t be surprising if he did one day. [Y/N] didn’t recall any particular fights he had been involved in at the Academy, but it doesn’t mean they didn’t happen.

“Stop acting like a child!” Coriolanus repeated. “Are we not allowed one remotely pleasant moment together? You know I don’t want this just as much as you, but here we are. Can’t we be civil?”

“I am capable of civility, yes. You, on the other hand…”

“You’re disgusting. You don’t know how to listen. It blows me away. I asked you a simple question that a married couple should ask the other when one is gone. Now you’re screaming at me like a little girl. Grow up.”

“Grow up? You wanna talk about childish; you’re selfish, demanding, and cold. I’m scared to death of you. You make me feel like a toy, not a person, Coriolanus. I was always pretty fucking certain children had toys, not grownups.”

“Good gracious… Fine! Be that way. Cause a fucking scene!” Coriolanus screamed. His temper flared. He got that look in his eye that only men can get when they lose something they wanted. “My coat and tie are black. I’m assuming you’re not intending to clash or something, so just letting you know. Y’know. Communication. The polite thing to do.” He reported and stormed out of her room to his own. Her door slammed so hard behind him that she feared in may splinter off its hinges. What must the neighbors think of them?

[Y/N] resisted the urge to shout for Coriolanus to drop dead.

She was left to ready herself alone. As she pulled out her dress (that wouldn’t look foul against Coriolanus’s coat and tie) from the closet, she caught a glimpse of the engagement ring on her finger. White gold with a moderately sized ruby set in the middle. She was told both the gold and the stone were real, but she had her doubts to some extent. She found it was difficult to believe anything Coriolanus said. The ring made it clear that Coriolanus didn’t truly know [Y/N] because she had always worn silver jewelry. She felt isolated from all her prior jewelry pieces as now, none of them matched.

Then, [Y/N] stepped into her dress. A flowing black ballgown with a full petticoat and a glittery exterior over the fine satin it was made from. She couldn’t quite complete the buttons running up the dress’s back. She sat down at a small vanity Coriolanus had purchased her to do her hair and makeup. She assumed he would be hard pressed by the fact she couldn’t button the back of her own ballgown; that she was incapable or needy.

After dragging kohl and shadows over her eyelids, among other things, she set out to find the correct pair of shoes to match the dress.

The problem with dressing to match Coriolanus is that he was excessively tall. This meant every dress had to be accompanied by the tallest heels one could find. [Y/N]’s ankles ached just thinking about a night in shoes like that again. With her makeup done and her dress unbuttoned down the back, [Y/N] set out to find the red heels Coriolanus had purchased for her. She sat unceremoniously on the floor with her large skirt fluffed out around her to dig in her closet for the shoes.

Coriolanus was fastening his white gold and ruby cufflinks that matched [Y/N]’s engagement ring when he knocked at her door.

“Yes, what?” She shouted from the floor.

Coriolanus pulled the door open without asking if she was decent. “I was going to ask if you were ready, but I can see that you aren’t.” He sighed. Coriolanus never apologized after a fight, instead he tried to placate in whatever way possible. He was incapable of an apology, [Y/N] thought. Whether it was buying her something, taking her out, helping her find something she had lost, that’s what he would do to ease his own guilt. If he could feel guilt.

[Y/N] sighed as well. She was unwilling to engage in verbal sparring with him now. She lowered her head in a visual show of defeat. “I can’t find my other shoe,” She said weakly. “The red ones you got me.”

“The red heels?” He asked quietly. Coriolanus perceived she was not much in the mood for his attitude, and felt his residual anger cool off several degrees.

[Y/N] nodded hopelessly. She didn’t want to go to the engagement party. She didn’t want to be marrying Coriolanus under terms such as these. [Y/N] felt like property and everything hurt.

“Let me look,” Coriolanus said. What he meant to say was ‘I’m sorry for everything,’ but what he said was: “I’ll help you look. Don’t wrinkle your dress, alright?”

[Y/N] stood up awkwardly, holding the falling bodice of her dress up. She felt uncomfortable being so vulnerable in front of him like this. “Sorry, I couldn’t button the back.” She said. With her free hand, she reached around the back of the dress in an attempt to close it.

“Don’t apologize. I’ll get it. Turn,” Coriolanus commanded plainly. [Y/N] did as he said. He notched the buttons down her back with ease. “You should’ve called for help. I didn’t realize you were struggling.” He said. He patted her shoulder to signify he was done with the back of her dress. Coriolanus moved in front of her closet and bent down to find the missing left red shoe.

It was silent for a moment. “Of course you weren’t aware I was struggling.”

Coriolanus offered no reply. He understood what she meant.

“Aha!” He said after a few moments, holding up a matching set of shoes. Coriolanus placed them on the floor in front of her so she could step into them. He offered [Y/N] a hand for stability as she did so.

“Thank you,” she said. “Hey, Coriolanus?”

“Hm?”

“Are you nervous?”

“No,” he replied, standing up from the carpeted floor. “Are you?” Coriolanus’s blue eyes were piercingly inquisitive. Eyes that didn’t want to know you, but to consume you.

“Yes.”

“Really? Why?” Coriolanus asked. It didn’t feel rude or hot-tempered. It was merely a plain question. It made [Y/N] feel safe to answer, even though she remained guarded.

“I’m presenting myself as the soon-to-be wife of the most important thirty-under-thirty in the Capitol in an arranged marriage. And you hate me. You have hated me since we were children. My life is over, Coriolanus. This is for you and for my family’s honor, evidently. What do I have left?”

“You think I hate you?” Coriolanus asked, bending his neck to look at [Y/N]. “I don’t hate you.” [Y/N] wasn’t sure how truthful the statement was.

“Well, at least, you don’t like me.”

Curiously, Coriolanus placed a hand on her neck and dragged his thumb across [Y/N]’s jawline. “That’s such shit, [Y/N]. I didn’t realize you thought that of me. That you… Felt that way at all,” he started carefully. “Rather, and this sounds silly, I enjoy arguing with you. I sort of thought you did as well. You’re ruthless, I admire that,” He smirked and paused for a breath. “I do like you. Believe it, or not. I’ll just have to figure out a way to show you better,” Coriolanus’ hand slid from [Y/N]’s throat, down her side and back to eventually rest at her waist. She blinked up at him, surprised at the luxury of such unexpected contact from him. “Your life is not over. You wanna work, work. You want to not work, stay home. Please, allow me to do what I can for you. I can open doors. Whatever you want, name it. Things, opportunity,” [Y/N] nodded at the word ‘opportunity.’ “You’re meant to be my wife and I’m… really, I’m one of the best resources there is around here. Let me use that advantage. Had I known sooner, I wouldn’t have wasted all that time and money buying you things you hate.” He attempted a casual joke, holding her too close to him.

They were closer physically than they had ever been. Due to their proximity, [Y/N] had to rest her hands on Coriolanus’ chest as she stared up at him. She didn’t know what to say, so she nodded and straightened the red rose at his lapel. “You just might get yourself that unified front with me if you bring home your work…”

“You’re interested in Gamemaking? Since when?”

[Y/N] rolled her eyes. “We’re going to be late. We can speak about this later.”

“By all means.” Coriolanus leaned down awkwardly and kissed her. Maybe it was out of duty, maybe out of desire. Neither of them knew. They had shared the occasional peck on the lips for social reasons before, but this felt a bit different. It was charged somehow. A promise.

When they separated, [Y/N] stared at Coriolanus. He was all eyes - blue, blue, blue. He blinked at her. She blinked back. “Come on, we’ll be late to our own party.”

—

The whole ride to the event venue, Coriolanus had kept his hand on [Y/N]’s thigh. This was an unusual gesture. Normally, he didn’t chance touching her, even by accident. It was an unspoken agreement to keep their distance.

“I’m gonna be sick.” [Y/N] groaned into her palm as she exited the vehicle, led by Coriolanus toward the door of the event hall. The building had been destroyed when they were children in the war and had been recently restored to its former glory.

“Same thing as earlier, or did you decide I’m the worst person on earth?”

“Same as before. Haven’t decided about the second thing. My parents are going to be here too. You remember them?”

“Yes. I’ve met them… Twice, I believe—”

“Tread carefully.” [Y/N] said, offering no additional support.

Coriolanus nodded in solemn understanding. His eyebrows knitted together, knowing one more nasty, exhausting troublespot would be in his way tonight. He hated social gatherings as much as [Y/N]. With all the gentleness he could muster, Coriolanus took her hand. “Heading inside… Unified front?”

“If I must.” [Y/N] said.

With that, the night took off. Bright flashing cameras reflected off the black and white marble of the building, and applause rang off the large, cavernous walls. Everyone was shaking their hands, greeting and congratulating them, and stopping them for overly pictures at every turn. For a moment, [Y/N] truly believed that everything in her life was perfect, because everyone around her seemed to assume that it was. It made the pill of her future easier to swallow.

Coriolanus led her around the room with ease. He introduced her to many individuals whose names she would not remember tomorrow. She was beginning to develop a stunning routine of artifice with him as Coriolanus puppeted her around the room. Each interaction functioned with a greeting from Coriolanus to the stranger, he would remove his arm from [Y/N]’s waist and drag it down her arm into her hand in order for her to showcase her striking gown. Then he would say “isn’t my fiancée beautiful?” or “isn’t she just divine?” or “what a lucky man am I?” [Y/N] would chuckle and compliment him back with “my Coriolanus, ever the charmer!” or “isn’t he just divine?” or “what a lucky woman am I?” accordingly. They would smile sickeningly and pretend they were in love, he would lean in and kiss [Y/N] on the cheek, and she laugh warmly at his ‘spontaneity’ and place a hand on his chest, or straighten his tie.

After that, they would move on to greet the next poor sucker and repeat the process.

Eventually, [Y/N] dragged Coriolanus off to the side so she could relax her artificial grin. “Sorry, I need a moment. My face hurts. And that last man and his wife, was that his wife? They stunk. They smelled so foul it is unreal.”

Coriolanus smirked. “Those were my next door neighbors growing up. Vile. They’re very heavy morphling users, if you couldn’t tell with the glazed over look and twitchy eyebrow.” Coriolanus mocked.

[Y/N] laughed, hard. “Oh, you’re terrible!” She jeered. “Damn, what I wouldn’t give for morphling tonight…”

“Don’t tell me you’re a junkie, now.” Coriolanus pressed.

“Junkie is such a strong word…”

“Well, since I can’t get you high out of your mind at the moment, best I can offer is posca. I can grab you a glass and you can hide from the onslaught for a moment.” Coriolanus offered.

“Please. A particularly stiff glass if you can swing it. Or whiskey!” [Y/N] said. She watched Coriolanus turn to leave for the bar. [Y/N] tucked herself in a corner behind a noble Corinthian column for a moment of peace. A few people came and went that she greeted with that 1000-watt fake smile of hers, but she was mostly left unbothered. [Y/N] caught sight of a clock and realized Coriolanus had been gone for several minutes longer than he should have. She excused herself from talking to some old woman that claimed to be some distant great aunt or something of Coriolanus’ and set off to locate him and her posca.

Cutting through the crowd, [Y/N] spotted tall Coriolanus over most everyone’s heads, holding two glasses of posca, and speaking to her parents.

Fuck.

Her parents.

[Y/N] rushed sharply towards Coriolanus. She stopped short of approaching. She wanted to listen in for a moment to what they might be saying. [Y/N] knew her parents were of the socially treacherous sort. She turned her back to them and stood, pretending she didn’t know they were there.

“…Hasn’t given you too much trouble.” She heard her mother laugh.

Coriolanus laughed uncomfortably back. “Ha, not too much, no,” He said. “She’s quite fiery, for lack of a better word, though. Tough. She’s a tough woman.”

“You’re a strong young man, Coriolanus. I’m sure you’ll find a way to put her in her place. You can’t have her compromise your image and all that, you know. She can just be so destructive.” Her father said.

[Y/N] felt her heart sink. The positive interactions she had with Coriolanus were slipping out of her mind by the second in overhearing the conversation.

“Ah, yes sir,” Coriolanus said. “We’ve got a whole lifetime for—“

[Y/N] turned around and stomped over to Coriolanus. “There you are!” She said, returning that winning smile to her lips. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, dear,” [Y/N] the pet name coming from her mouth made her nauseous. She grasped Coriolanus’ arm firmly. “And you got me a drink? You really are a dear, aren’t you?” She smiled and turned to her parents. Coriolanus felt tense beside her; she could feel it in the muscles in his arm.

Both her mother and father embraced her lovingly. “Oh, [Y/N], you look beautiful as ever.” Her mother said.

“Thank you,” [Y/N] said flatly, not returning the compliment. “If you’ll excuse us, there was someone else I wanted Coriolanus to meet. We’ll be back around soon. Love you!” She muttered, pulling Coriolanus away from her parents.

“Give me that.” She said, as soon as they were out of earshot, taking the glass of posca from Coriolanus.

“They’re…” he started in reference to her parents.

“Dreadful. I know,” [Y/N] heart felt broken. She didn’t even have a chance with Coriolanus without their humiliating influence. She didn’t want to dive into rationalizing his overheard conversation. So she just morosely stared down at the floor.

“They’re cruel to you,” he remarked as [Y/N] drank. “They told me I should work on breaking your spirit.”

[Y/N] took a long drink from her glass. “Are you going to? Break my spirit, I mean.”

“Haven’t decided,” Coriolanus replied. “Is tonight terrible so far for you?”

“Absolutely and unendingly.”

“Shame, since it’s supposed to be for us,” Coriolanus frowned. “Here’s what we’ll do. Drink up and we’ll dance. You told me you liked to dance once. Still true?”

“Uh, yes. You remember that?” The truth was that Coriolanus forgot very little.

“Too much talking, not enough drinking.” He replied, reaching out to tip the stem of her posca glass up, forcing the drink towards her lips.

“You’re a dick.” [Y/N] snapped. Her voice echoed from the round glass at her mouth.

“Never heard that one before.” Coriolanus said sarcastically.

A total of five empty posca glasses were settled on a cocktail table between them after about forty-five minutes of chatter and drinking. Coriolanus seemed looser than before, but focused as ever. The third glass, and the last half of Coriolanus’ second, had sent [Y/N] over the edge into drunkness, however.

“Dance with me now?” [Y/N] slurred slightly.

Coriolanus held his hand out as an affirmative response. She took it and he led her towards the dance floor. “FYI, I’m going to lead. You’re falling apart.” He leaned in to whisper teasingly as they approached the shiny wooden floor.

“If you’re shit at this, I reserve the right to take over as lead.”

“You have zero faith in me,” Coriolanus said, grabbing her too firmly in a waltz hold. She placed her hand on his broad shoulder. “Don’t think, just follow. I’ve got you.” He said, staring at her. Blue, blue, blue eyes, completely unreadable. Coriolanus sloppily led her around the dance floor, keeping the spins to a minimum. Sober, he was probably a fairly decent dancer. [Y/N] was reflexively a fine dancer as well, but a bit sloppier than normal. The thing that was actually holding back her dancing abilities, were the damn red heels. Her feet ached and she didn’t think she would be able to keep up with much more than a waltz in them.

The next song began after only half the length she had expected from a waltz, [Y/N]. It was a brisk foxtrot; all reliant on footwork. As Coriolanus led her into the first sidestep, [Y/N] kicked off her heels without missing a step. She harshly kicked them aside, sliding them to the edge of the dance floor. [Y/N] found she felt tiny now in front of Coriolanus. His smirk doubled at the sight as well. “Better?”

“Much. How about you shrink six inches next time so I don’t have to grow six inches. Seems fair to me.”

Coriolanus laughed cordially. His laugh turned into a sigh when he noticed [Y/N]’s lack of reply. “Are you angry with me?” He was aware that she usually was angry with him, he was asking specifically she to the conversation with her parents.

“Yes, why?”

“Because you’re being extremely rude.” Coriolanus said sharply.

“And?”

“No reason, just making conversation.”

Coriolanus couldn’t figure out what [Y/N] was looking at over his shoulder, but he didn’t care enough to ask. “Wanna make it up to me?” [Y/N] asked. “Posca wasn’t enough.”

“I’ll consider it. The terms?” He replied, spinning her through a tempo change.

“I want to make my parents hurt. I don’t live under their roof anymore. She’s been staring at me since I took my shoes off. See? I’m embarrassing her. And you know how big you owe me.”

This gave Coriolanus pause. Really, he didn’t owe her anything worth a damn. She was as bad to him as he was to her. “Why?”

“You said you could grant me opportunity. Grant me the opportunity of making her feel a fool for making me marry you, Coriolanus. I’m drunk. This offer is only going to work right now.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“Blowjob.”

“I have an idea,” Coriolanus said immediately. [Y/N] grinned. His job was having wicked, awful ideas, so it was nice when he delivered. “Do you trust me?”

“No.”

“By the end of tonight, you will,” Coriolanus grimaced. He rotated the pair of them on the dance floor so [Y/N]’s back was to them and he could keep eyes on her parents. “I’m going to touch you.” He whispered in her ear when the music shifted to something more akin to a rumba.

“What?”

In seconds, [Y/N] felt Coriolanus’ nose slide from where he had whispered in her ear and down her neck to above her pulse point. He planted one kiss to her throat. Coriolanus waited before kissing her again to make sure she didn’t throw him halfway across the event hall in rage first. After that, he felt he had the go-ahead to work more forcefully. Coriolanus sensually kissed hard up and down the right side of [Y/N]’s throat, while both of them tried to keep their fuzzy brains clear enough to keep dancing. He kept kissing and sucking at her neck until she let out a nice loud sound of pleasure. That was when he pulled away. He was happy to see a nice purple bruise starting to form on her exposed neck.

“How was that?” He asked dryly, trying to hold off a pending erection.

“You’re out of your mind. Do it again.”

“I’m pretty sure my boss is here, [Y/N]. That was… great, but unless there’s—“

“We got lectured our entire growing up at the Academy to make sure we were to be winners by any means necessary, Coriolanus. Push the envelope. It’s our night. We can do whatever we want. Let’s make it count, at least. With all these cameras here? You keep this up, and your face will be on every periodical in Panem.”

“Yeah, for terrible reasons!”

“Any press is good press and you know that. ‘TROUBLE IN THE ARENA?: GAMEMAKER’S FIANCÉE BREAKS DOWN AT PARTY,’” she said, showing a fictional headline example. “Below it, a nice picture of me crying and you dusting me off like a dutiful husband. Have your way with me and eventually I’ll snap and cry and accuse you of something you didn’t do, then you can ‘put me in place,’ so to speak. Control the fucking news cycle til everyone knows your name.”

[Y/N] could tell that Coriolanus had in fact agreed to gamble with his image when his hand slid down her back and grabbed her ass. His mouth ducked back into her neck as well, biting harder than [Y/N] expected. [Y/N] let out a painfully loud moan without meaning to.

“You want a show, let’s give ‘em a show.” He muttered against her skin. Coriolanus pulled his hips flush against his. The fabric of her ballgown being the only meaningful barrier between them. After a few moments, they had given up any chance at a rumba. Coriolanus stood over her, kissing her bruisingly hard anywhere we could reach.

“Coriolanus,” [Y/N] muttered. She gripped his shoulder tightly to steady herself. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Coriolanus took his hand out of the one that was clutching hers and slid it up to grab her face harshly between thumb and forefinger. “Can you shut up for a minute? I’ve let you run your mouth all day. It’s getting annoying,” He said, the mask of kindness slipping from his eyes. “You have had a complaint about everything. I put up with it, too. It’s getting… really,” Coriolanus’ hand gripped her ass harder over the ballgown. “Fucking annoying. You’re already making me do all this because I’m a dick. Stop being a brat. Please keep your mouth closed until I want it open, okay?”

He was holding her face so tightly that she couldn’t even nod. That’s when she saw the cameras start flashing, as Coriolanus gripped her by the face like a spoiled child and rubbed her ass in front of everyone she knew. “Yes.” She tried to mumble, but it came out squished.

“Great, then, we’re clear. Don’t think, just follow.” Coriolanus leaned forward and kissed her blazingly. That’s around the time [Y/N] could hear her mother in hysterics stomping to the bathroom. She sighed with relief, but also burned with humiliation. It felt like Coriolanus was practically trying to fuck her with her clothes on.

[Y/N] couldn’t believe this. This wasn’t brutally argumentative Snow, this wasn’t pseudo-gentle Snow. Who was this? What the fuck was he doing? Why did it feel good? [Y/N] felt a shiver tingle down her spine as he kissed her. Aggressively, she kissed back in an attempt at delivering that ruthlessness Coriolanus said he prized. He squashed that quickly and leaned her back, almost knocking her off her feet. She pulled back breathlessly.

[Y/N]’s eyes were darting around the room, watching everyone watching her. She was the show tonight. For the first time in her life, someone had made her the real center of attention that she always craved to me. Coriolanus granted her opportunity. It fucking worked. Her gaze shot back to Coriolanus, looking down at her possessively. He was mouthing something to her, but her intoxicated brain couldn’t signal her eyes to focus enough to piece together his words.

“What?” She whispered, leaning away from him.

More clearly this time, Coriolanus mouthed. “Hit. Me,” He leaned in close to her ear and whispered. “I told you. I’m leading; I have an idea.”

[Y/N] started to shake her head ‘no’ at her insane exhibitionist fiancé, but she remembered she was the one that had asked for a show. Without asking why, [Y/N] feigned disgust and stepped away from Coriolanus. She raised her hand and sharply slapped him across the face. This elicited gasps of shock from their guests. She could see a red mark beginning to develop on Coriolanus’ fair cheek.

Violence like this is what people in the Districts did. This was not what well-bred, promising youth from the Capitol did. The chatter in the room grew in the form of prying hushed whispers. The band stopped playing. This was not how beautiful young girls behaved at their engagement parties. [Y/N]’s stomach dropped. She looked angrily between her vile hand and the mark on Coriolanus’ face. Both of their expressions showed that she had hit him harder than they expected.

“How many men, [Y/N]?” Coriolanus asked, forcefully.

“What?” [Y/N] asked, shocked. She had no idea what he was talking about.

“How many men have had you behind my back?”

It was a fucking act. No truth to it at all. He wanted a rise out of her and so did the cameras. This was exactly what she had asked him, she didn’t realize how seriously he would take her.

[Y/N] sighed. She understood her role and she was going to play it perfectly. “One. Only one, I swear. None since you caught us in bed.” Lie. “Stop. We’re…” she glanced around, playing ashamed of the cameras. “We’re in public, Coriolanus. Please. Don’t cause a scene.” She said, parroting what he had said to her that morning.

That line did the trick. She saw the vein in his forehead pop out. “Don’t cause a scene? You struck me!” Coriolanus roared. “That’s unfair, and you know it.” The ghost of a smirk played on his lips while he clutched his face.

“You wouldn’t hear reason! The accusations you made of me, Coriolanus. You—You—“

Coriolanus surged forward and grabbed her by her forearms. “Accusations that are warranted. I don’t know how you expect me to trust you after something like that! Do you think I’m made of stone?”

“Yes!” [Y/N] yelled truthfully.

Coriolanus paused. “[Y/N], I hurt just as much as you do. You’re drunk. You’re not thinking straight,” He placated. “I just can’t stand to see how these men look at you like that, knowing you would trade me for them in a heartbeat.” He brought the tempo of their fight down with his false melancholy.

“Coriolanus…” [Y/N] said tentatively. “I wouldn’t… Not now. We’ve put that behind us. I-I’m yours and—“

“I made this whole night about you. I…” Coriolanus swallowed dramatically. “I love you.” Lie? “I love you, I spend all night trying to show you that I don’t want anyone but you. I try to make you feel special so you won’t stray again. And you, you hit me… I can’t do anything right enough for you.” He turned his face away, feigning hiding tears and released her arms.

Without the stabilizing touch of Coriolanus, [Y/N] was starting to feel uncertain on her feet from the alcohol. Far from gracefully, [Y/N] sank to the floor, her skirt fanning out around her as it had when she was searching for her shoe earlier that evening. From the drink, the tension and the state of her shambling life, [Y/N] let out an unexpected sob. Coriolanus turned his head in genuine surprise at the sound. “I’m sorry, my love,” she started through sniffles. “I’m sorry. Forgive me,” She looked up at him as her mascara began to drip down her cheeks. “Please forgive me. You have every right to leave, but please, Coriolanus, you’re all I have left.” That part was true. It was all gone. Her childhood home, the security of her parents, university and the Academy were behind her, taxing relationships with friends she had outgrown. Coriolanus was all that remained. [Y/N] cried harder. “I made a mistake.” She howled.

Coriolanus was impressed, to say the least. Cautiously, he knelt down in front of [Y/N]. He would remember this image of her for his whole life. With her mascara running, her stockings ripped, her shoes long missing, the top of her extravagant dress sliding too low for public consumption, she was divine, truthfully. That was her. That was how he would always want to remember her. “Darling?” He said quietly.

Now, the bastard was left open to play the dutiful savior, just as she had teased earlier.

[Y/N] started to twist the engagement ring off of her finger, theatrically. Coriolanus took her obvious bait and took her hand to stop her. He slid the ruby ring back down her finger calmly. “Darling, I’m not going anywhere. You’re drunk. You just need a little help, right? You mustn’t drink so much. It breaks my heart to see you like this,” Coriolanus squeezed her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it softly. “You need me. I’m not going anywhere. What kind of husband would that make me if I did?”

She nodded. “Thank you,” she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “You’re a good man, Coriolanus,” LIE. “You’re too good to me.”

“Come on,” Coriolanus rose from the floor and extended a hand to her. “Let’s get you home, huh?” He said condescendingly.

[Y/N] took his hand carefully. He pulled her up and she stumbled to her feet. Coriolanus wrapped an arm tightly around her waist and pulled her closer. He glanced around in surprise to address the crowd that had gathered in front of them. “I’m sorry for everything you just had to see. Please be kind to my fiancée; she’s had a lot to drink. Posca, right?” Coriolanus darkly attempted a somber joke. “I should’ve kept a closer eye on her. We’ll be getting home. Thank you all for coming out to celebrate us tonight.” Sorry to call it a night with so much night left.” He said softly.

Coriolanus led her to the edge of the dance floor where he had spotted her shoes. He grabbed the red shoes from the floor and carried them dangling from his free hand as he walked her to the door and down the stairs to the sidewalk. [Y/N] had a vague memory of Coriolanus summoning their driver via the valet at the door. She was too busy noticing how her stockings caught on the sidewalk with every step.

“Darling?” Coriolanus whispered, leaning down to whisper to her. “You were brilliant.”

“Really?” She sniffled hesitantly. “Because I’m fairly certain that everyone in that room hates me.”

“Any press is good press.” Coriolanus reminded her with a gentle kiss to the forehead.

“For you, maybe. I made a mistake asking for that…” she kicked at a stray stone on the sidewalk. “I am probably the biggest villain in Panem right now.” [Y/N] said, shaking her head a little with a sad laugh.

“Not a villain,” Coriolanus scoffed. “A star.”

PART II HERE

TAGLIST:

@badwicht @stelleduarte @cinnamongirl127 @prettyppetty @soulessien @bejeweledreverie @jjstyles @ndycrls @arminsarlerts @catlover420sstuff @chmpgneprblem @co1dmountains @watermelonharry @ohantonia @miscellaneousmoonchild @lille999 @pumkinnxsmut @nananarwhal @taykorsyogurt

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#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #the hunger games #hunger games #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x you #coryo snow

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szkunas · 5 months ago

Text

FLAGS EVERYWHERE. ୨ৎ are jjk women green, beige or red flags?ㅤheadcanons

featuring ♰ㅤmultiple. (mai, maki, nobara, shoko, yuki, yorozu) + honorable non-binary, uraume.

warning(s)! ♰ㅤNO PRONOUNS AND ANATOMY FOR READER. SFW (?) — toxic behavior ! cheating ! breaking-up mentions ! very much made based on personal opinions + i tried to write the characters off as canon as possible, but my favoritism will probably show ! violence + blood + death (mentions) ! cannibalism (mentions) ! angst (some) ! some are implied yandere ! not really all dark content but i will tag as so just to be sure, some of them are dc vibes ! yorozu is a massive warning ! sukuna mentions ! mentions of marriage + forced arrange marriage !

୨୧ MAI ZENIN — green / beige flag.

surprisingly good, once you get past the barriers.

despite what it initially seems like Mai is a heartless bully, she is not as cruel as people think.

BIGGEST RED FLAG? emotional barriers and selfishness.

initially, it is very difficult to get past mai's irritable temperament. she is provocative, and has a certain mischievous aspect to most things. at first glance, she's a bad girl like some character from a 2000s movie. still, once you get past that rough layer and get to what's underneath, you'll see that her heart is soft and very pure. she wasn't open to love, but your arrival could definitely change the course of her thoughts on the matter.

the selfishness part is not as prominent. mai alternates between being very selfish and being very selfless. it's a strange combination, but the way she grew up and was raised in the zenin house made her very defensive and not very open. it's a problem, but not incorrigible.

DO YOU NEED TO BE A SORCERER?

the answer is: no, but it is preferable that you are. most life has always been and will be about sorcery. this is the world she was born into, and she will die in it, whether she wants to or not. with so little energy that she could only create one bullet a day, she became more accustomed to the prospect that the people around her would, by nature, be better and stronger. it's a rotten feeling, and it fills her with envy in an almost insurmountable way. the sensation is worse when it comes to her sister. that would extend to you, and regardless of your strength, she thinks it would be more acceptable for you to be a sorcerer.

still, if you're not a sorcerer, there is a certain beauty to it. for her, it was unacceptable, but a lot of you made her see the actions and prohibitions of her clan with different eyes. not that she likes the place very much, but we are a product of the environment in which we were raised, and let's face it. no one finds the zenin house pleasant. if you are not a sorcerer, she relaxes even more in the face of the normality that surrounds your relationship. simply, no more worrying about debates and curses, about big clans and politics. just cute dates where she buys you a coffee and says it was because she had money left over (she likes to buy you things.)

WOULD SHE CHEAT ON YOU?

absolutely not. mai grew up watching the men in her family commit adultery in the rooms of the house and the women filling themselves with drink and medicine to endure it all. she doesn't intend to become that woman or allow that to be the kind of person you become, either. your relationship faces many problems, but after the initial stages, she becomes motivated to become a better person, for you. to give you what you deserve, the best version of herself.

OTHER OBSERVATIONS.

something very difficult to ignore in your relationship is the zenin clan itself. like every young woman, mai faces a dangerous fate ahead of her. after maki left the clan behind, this ended up reinforcing expectations of her, which include marrying and having many children with a sorcerer that the zenin will choose. it is the fate that every young woman in a clan must be content with, because demanding humanity in jujutsu and clan zenin as a woman is unthinkable. still, she didn't think much about it. it's the kind of thing you avoid thinking about because it gets on your nerves.

however, after you started dating and when she realized that she really loved you, it started giving her nightmares. her fear of what the clan would do to you if they found out is surreal. she knows you could never be together under normal circumstances, they wouldn't allow it. her collar seems tighter every day, and in desperation, sometimes she hides money under her mattress, thinking that maybe one day, she can run away with you. maybe one day, when fate is knocking at her door, mai will be forced to run away with you.

she didn't fight for her freedom on her own, not after maki left. the spiteful thought of her sister leaving her behind rather than staying at rock bottom with her still haunts her. sometimes she holds your hand a little tight while she watches you sleep. she wonders, if she asked, would you be at rock bottom with her, instead of wanting something better? it is selfish of her to think that.

maki is also a delicate situation. all of mai's family has some issues with her, but her twin sister is a special case. even though she loves maki, she feels constant envy and has a huge problem comparing herself to her. it gets worse if you know maki personally. sometimes mai gets so paranoid that she thinks you would choose maki over her. just the idea hurts.

୨୧ MAKI ZENIN — green flag.

isolating, barely communicating, but she tries her best and we love her for it.

everyone's favorite restricted (sorry, toji) is actually a better girlfriend than people think.

BIGGEST RED FLAG? emotional barriers and distancing.

very similar to her sister, maki is very used to not letting people into her heart. she is seen as harsh, strong and very scary, even by those closest to her (panda, toge, yuta, etc). but just like the folks in jujutsu high, she might warm up to you and allow a glance through her defenses.

the hardest thing to deal with in maki is not her temper — but her habits. she's used to doing things for herself, whether it's wielding a weapon or finishing dinner because someone burned it down. her habits are very strong and as difficult to break as her emotional walls, which are there so she can avoid getting attached to you and getting hurt because of it. but, again, nothing incorrigible. be patient, and she'll open up.

DO YOU NEED TO BE A SORCERER?

in my opinion, not really. it would be okay if you were one — being more able to defend yourself and all —, but it honestly does not matter to maki. not one bit.

out of all people, she couldn't care less about someone's cursed energy or technique, because she understands strength comes from various sources. she is a varied source. she would find it okay if you were or weren't, too.

WOULD SHE CHEAT ON YOU?

never, ever. sincerely, maki is the type of guardian friend that keeps this behavior as a girlfriend. if someone is flirting with her, she normally gets upset enough — but while in a relationship with you? oh, it makes her nearly able to commit a murder or two. like, c'mon. can't they see the ring? her arm wrapped around your waist? the way she keeps trying to pull you closer, to have you hanging over her as near as possible?

are they blind?

OTHER OBSERVATIONS.

honestly, almost everything with maki is extremely indirect or just hinted towards. if you notice the little signs, you can easily tell how much she cares, even before your relationship officially begins. how much she insists you take coats when it's cold, or the way she's started to conveniently take sweets and small snacks that you like with her. little things like that.

she is more vulnerable than she would like to admit. especially after shibuya where she was burned alive and had to wonder if you were still out there, alive. the scars not only marked her body, but her mind as well. it has changed in many ways since the beginning of the year. you understanding that and understanding her, supporting her, is just one of the reasons why she loves you.

she's extremely perceptive, so don't even think she won't notice something. even when she's not watching you like a hawk, maki can notice small things easily. did you change your hair? she'll be the first to notice. are you not eating much and seem a little sick? she will ask what is wrong. have you bought any new clothes, even if they look like ones you already have? she says it will look great with one of her coats.

maki is a little overprotective, but only at first. she also understands if you need space or time to yourself. she is possessive, but not in the crazy way.

her most striking trait in the relationship is how unafraid she is to say that you are together. she's very proud — of you, and of being with you. and maki isn't shy about telling anyone that, or kicking the ass of anyone who doubts or makes you doubt yourself. yeah, she's your girlfriend. everyone unhappy with it can go to hell.

୨୧ NOBARA KUGISAKI — green flag.

a girlfriend who is certainly very passionate and happy, nobara is a chaotic one to deal with. but once you're settled with that? oh, you're on.

BIGGEST RED FLAG? she is extremely passionate. about everything.

not that much of a red flag, honestly, but it can be a handful. if you are a more calm and centered person, you may have problems with this nature initially. nobara is very instinctive, sincere and not afraid to say what she thinks. she loves fashion, she loves fighting, she loves feeling beautiful — sometimes the amount of things she does, and the most dangerous ones, become overwhelming.

of course, her passion also extends to you. her loved one, her amazing (she makes a point of mentioning) significant other. it is not a bad thing on it’s own, but sometimes nobara can be very adamant about you staying away from dangerous matters (most part of her life), or trying to scare someone away.

despite that, she truly loves you, and nobara is proud of saying it out loud. and poor is the soul of megumi fushiguro, paying for his lost best (that itadori would get a girlfriend before her) when she introduces you.

DO YOU NEED TO BE A SORCERER?

honestly, no, but it's preferable that you are. nobara grew up in a small town that she came to hate, taught by her grandmother how to use jujutsu before entering jujutsu high. it's a super inspiring, motivating background, depending on the angle you look at it, but difficult to explain to the person you're flirting with if they know nothing about jujutsu.

nothing that matters that much, but she feels she would be more understood if you were a sorcerer — bonus points if you're not from a clan or anything. just raised from difficulties and mundane in everything else, like her.

WOULD SHE CHEAT ON YOU?

no. that's, simply it. nope. nuh uh. no way in hell. not in a million years.

if any idiot is flirting with her insistently, she'll be tempted to hit them with a hammer. cheaters and idiots get a bonk!

you and her only get love, though.

OTHER OBSERVATIONS.

nobara is a girl of steel, but she loves to be feminine and sometimes even fragile (not that those two things are related). she valuates anything that seems truthful and supportive to her — being it carrying her bags for her or hold her while she watches a movie, or killing bugs for her. simple things build even more trust and affection for you.

she's clingy, even though she won't admit it. total little spoon, who loves being carried and treated as a princess. in exchange, she'll give you the royal treatment as well. the type that yells yes! im their girlfriend! suck on that! proudly after you achieve something.

are you permanently invited to movie nights, shopping trips and her small walks around the town. and she is more patient with you, in case you are taking her things and end up dropping them.

she gives advice, speaking openly and honestly what she thinks, and doesn't hide opinions, but she's a great listener, as well. nobara is always ready to be at your side in whichever you might need — offering her shoulder for you to cry on or asking if she should get her hammer.

୨୧ SHOKO IERI — green flag.

probably really biased, but i think shoko is the best option on the list. you’ll see why.

the exhausted, smoking doctor we all love. why not find true happiness while listening to I don’t smoke and holding a pretty woman’s hand, right?

BIGGEST RED FLAG? she is hot and cold. distant and clingy.

being the third person in a trio can be quite distressing. not that shoko doesn’t value the friendship she has with satoru, far from it, but sometimes she feels very left out. as if the world was only about satoru gojo and suguru geto and their damn moral problems. it’s irritating, to think that gojo isolates himself from her when she’s right there, always has been.

for this reason, and because she doesn’t have many other friends, and none in the non-jujutsu sphere, shoko alternates between two defense mechanisms against abandonment. it’s one of the things she most despises and scares, and she can either acquire a calm and distant nature or one that’s clingier and even more affectionate than normal, afraid of you leaving her. surprisingly, you can handle this easily — just be honest about what you feel, how you do not like this behavior. she will listen the wake-up call.

once that is handled, and you express your feelings about it, she starts therapy to aid her keep the relationship. you’re something she refuses to lose.

DO YOU NEED TO BE A SORCERER?

no, not really. a small part of hers might prefer you aren’t. shoko lived as a doctor and a valuable healer in the jujutsu world. devoid of technique, but skilled with reverse energy, she is essential to the jujutsu school. her friends and technically, family, are all sorcerers, or those who aren’t, come into contact with jujutsu in some way (usually unpleasant, like yuta okkotsu and itadori yuji).

the idea of having a non-sorcerer partner, but one who is unaffected by these horrors and the knowledge that there is something more than normality, is an attractive idea. normality and simplicity would be good for her, but frankly it doesn’t matter. if you were not a sorcerer, she wouldn’t introduce any of the jujutsu to you initially, afraid of you getting hurt. however, opinions from friends (thanks, nanami) can change her mind — and while it’s complicated to resolve a fight over your girlfriend lying for so long, it would be even worse if she lived a lie forever.

WOULD SHE CHEAT ON YOU?

not. a. single. chance. simple and easy.

OTHER OBSERVATIONS.

shoko is a very skilled healer, and there are a lot of people depending on her every day. it weighs on her shoulders like an anchor sometimes. this weight can lead her to isolate and withdraw, and experience anxiety or depression. many sorcerers or anyone involved in jujutsu go through difficult periods constantly. you need to know when your girlfriend’s distance means “i want space” or if she’s desperate to be saved. it can be quite exhausting.

shoko has many self-destructive tendencies. smoking itself is a great example. even though she heals her lungs with reverse cursed energy she will hurt them even more later. she is more delicate than she looks.

during much of her life, shoko adopted the role of caregiver. a doctor, nurse, coroner and multiple other things, she is everyone’s supportive friend, even if no one comes to her rescue when she needs help. being with you makes her show this nature often, initially hiding it when she’s feeling bad so as not to worry you. however, by understanding how serious she is about being with you, she allows herself to lean on you and encourages you to lean on her. together, united, so that one does not overload the other.

she has problems, like everyone else, but most of them disappear after an honest conversation or when she herself realizes her own flaws and encourages herself to become better.

୨୧ URAUME — beige / red flag.

much like a man being invited to ladies night, uraume is not a woman. but i will write them here for convenience.

one of the greatest traits of uraume that everyone knows is that they are very loyal. unfortunately, this only applies if your name is sukuna ryomen. otherwise? ehhhh...

BIGGEST RED FLAG? devoted to sukuna.

let’s face it, no one who is so loyal to a cannibal can be considered trustworthy. sukuna is a cruel and unscrupulous man, and uraume is undeniably his right-hand. they are the cause of pain and suffering that spread through decades. they accept the kind of behavior sukuna exposes, and they might even encourage it, at some rate. this is not something to wish for in a relationship.

besides, you will always be the number two in uraume’s life. they swore loyalty to sukuna, they will follow through it until death.

DO YOU NEED TO BE A SORCERER?

not really. it is difficult portraying uraume with anyone in general — much less a non-sorcerer. but i honestly think that uraume is their own person, and even though they are someone who is reserved, they have their own taste in personality above power or strength. it's one of the reasons they admire sukuna, of course, but surprisingly, i can see them not dating a sorcerer.

although, if you are not a sorcerer, prepare for one hell of a ride. sukuna will torture you for fun, and uraume will allow it.

WOULD THEY CHEAT ON YOU?

no, i think. but because a very specific thought hits me. for example, i can’t see sukuna and uraume having anything sexual or romantic in any shape or way. with him so uninterested in all of that, there’s not really any options for them to cheat you on with. but, i suppose it can be said they would, if uraume could get with sukuna.

you can make your own judgment about this one, though.

OTHER OBSERVATIONS.

being with uraume means making sacrifices and accepting that, yes, you are important, but you will never come first. as already mentioned, you are permanently stuck in the “second priority of uraume” position, because sukuna exists. and even if he hadn’t been resurrected yet. from the moment uraume woke up in a new body, their goal has always been clear: to bring their master back and serve him in the best way possible.

it’s possible that sukuna will use you to mess with uraume. this could mean several things. clearly the king of curses has a respect for his most devoted servant, but that doesn’t stop him from getting bored. uraume’s loyalty was never put to the test before you showed up, and it will be one day. in case uraume deserves some punishment, when sukuna tortures you and uses reverse energy. heal to hurt, only to start all over again. uraume watches, impassive and cold as the ice they produce, and will confess privately that it was one of the worst experiences of his life. but they will never lift a hand against their master. uraume will fight anyone to protect you, except if the attacker is sukuna.

be prepared to stand alongside the greatest accomplice to ever walk the earth. uraume knows the consequences and the harm that sukuna brings, but they don’t care, they won’t stop him. beyond morality, uraume’s loyalty cannot be broken, not even by you. in a way, you will also become an accomplice.

୨୧ YUKI TSUKUMO — green / beige flag.

BIGGEST RED FLAG? distant (physicially).

yuki has a reputation that precedes her in the jujutsu world: the special-grade sorceress who refuses all missions, takes payment anyway, and uses the money to travel. you constantly receive souvenirs, souvenirs, and gifts from the other side of the world, but nothing will compensate for your girlfriend’s affection in the form of a warm hug.

she constantly tries to bring you with her, but it can all be very overwhelming to you. new cultures, languages you do not speak, people side eyeing you. besides, you can’t, because of work and other matters. the idea of being financially dependent on yuki is very scary. since without her, you would easily be on the other side of the world, without money. obviously, she would never leave you in that situation, but it’s an idea that runs through anyone’s head.

DO YOU NEED TO BE A SORCERER?

honestly, i am tempted to say yes, because having a non-sorcerer partner goes against much of what she shows herself to be interested in, but yuki is a very kind and determined person who is not afraid to speak her mind and go after what she wants. she will tell you what type of guy he is as easily as she would flirt with you if she were interested.

despite that, i think it does not matter to her, honestly.

WOULD SHE CHEAT ON YOU?

that's a very easy assumption to make, seeing as you haven't seen yuki for endless months and both you and she need relief (emotional and sexual) eventually. however, contrary to what many believe, no. she wouldn't cheat.

OTHER OBSERVATIONS.

no matter how passionate and well-intentioned yuki is, she will rarely be able to truly be present. video calls and daily calls don’t really satisfy any of you ── that’s when they’re possible, thanks to the time difference. it’s easy to understand how a relationship like this can become unbearable and even unsustainable after a while.

yuki is very busy, so even when she is back from her long and time-consuming trips, she won’t have one hundred percent of her time to dedicate to you. meetings, research, more scolding from society’s superiors. little time for motorcycle rides and cuddles, if you ask her.

looking at the big picture, yuki would be a great girlfriend if she just made a little more time to spend with you and try new things together ── instead of trying things out and then telling you everything in a video call at four o’clock in the morning.

୨୧ YOROZU — red flag.

BIGGEST RED FLAG? she is yorozu. just kidding. devoted to sukuna.

yorozu is a complicated case. she has few redeeming qualities, but you can understand that she is an attractive, intelligent and, in a way, powerful woman. knowing chemistry and physics before those concepts were properly delved into, she discovered new things to her power. but she is simply unbearable in one aspect: her determination in relation to sukuna ryomen.

this determination makes yorozu’s life goal become to kill and marry sukuna. it’s even impressive that she found a partner, and she makes that very clear. does the opportunity arise? well, you’re not important anymore.

DO YOU NEED TO BE A SORCERER?

i think so, but that's a more personal view. yorozu seems more attracted to power than to the sukuna's personality aspect itself, which demonstrates that what attracts her to a person is raw and pure power. considering the time she came from and her traditional ways, this would be, for her, related to cursed energy. so yes.

WOULD SHE CHEAT ON YOU?

if you consider the whole thing with sukuna. and that she would cheat on you with sukuna. even if there is no one else for her besides the two of you, between you and him, she wouldn't choose you.

OTHER OBSERVATIONS.

frankly, yorozu’s part is very short because she appears in about six chapters, causes chaos, fights and dies. also, i think her character has a lot of potential and little use, but trying anyway. yorozu is extremely determined to have what she wants, a woman who wouldn’t give up for anything in the world. if on the one hand, this is positive ── she doesn’t give up on her relationship ── it is also negative. she won’t give up her search for the king of curses’ heart, even if she has to rip it from his chest.

it’s exhausting knowing that, in some ways, you’re a replacement for what yorozu can’t truly have. it’s hard to say whether pure and true love really matters to her, as yorozu has her own specific and disturbed views on love. it is likely that she will not be loving in the relationship at all, and will manipulate you in order to keep you with her.

yorozu has a goal and the means to achieve it. once she gets close enough, she knows her presence will be more of a hindrance than a help. she entered the relationship with you with the mindset that one day, she would have to get rid of you. but a part of her heart warms. yorozu wants to do it herself. no henchmen, no tricks. just her and you at her end ── which must be worthy and brought only by her. with her, you’re likely to end up stabbed in the heart, while she looks into your eyes and presses her lips against hers one last time, tasting the blood. this is her goodbye to you, before she leaves for her true love.

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. I APOLOGIZE FOR ANY MISTAKES. thank you for reading! <3

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justauthoring · 7 months ago

Text

sincerity.

-> because gojo and geto have been in love with you since they first laid eyes on you, and marrying you was the least of their worries.

a/n -> i started this with no plan in mind so here ya go :) (i just wanted to write for my boys <3)

pairing -> satosugu x f!reader

tw. mention of (attempted) forced arranged marriage, implied physical abuse

"there you are."

eyes peeling open, you glance up at the two shadows with a dazed expression.

geto shakes his head at you. "we've been looking for you everywhere."

"you're a pain in the ass to find when you wanna be," gojo grumbles, looking decidely less amused than geto does as he crouches down, raising his head to lightly flick your forehead. "you know that?"

you let out a giggle, it light and airy as you roll your eyes at the both of them. gojo and geto glance at each other at that, raising a brow before their eyes fall back on you, laid back on the floor, head tilted back as you peer up at them through the top of your lashes.

there's a light flush across your cheeks, skin dusted with a pretty pink, and your gaze is unfocused.

oh, they realize, you're drunk.

geto's eyes flicker to the table your lower half was concealed by, only then noticing the many empty sake bottles thrown about half-hazardly.

gojo notices it at the same time and with a sigh, he presses his hand to his forehead.

"what happened?"

the smile on your face fades at that, falling with a twitch as the two of them stare down at you this time with concern clear in their gazes. an uncomfortable feeling twists deep in your chest and in your inebriated state, all you can focus on is that you really really don't want to talk about it.

any of it.

so, with a blink, you push yourself up, flipping yourself around so you're on your knees before them, grin back on your lips as you smile cheekily at them.

"nothing," you brush off, even though it's obvious it's not nothing. "let's do something fun."

gojo huffs and geto's face twists with hesitation; "y/n, i dunno if—"

geto is promptly cut off by the feeling of your weight falling against him, and he sputters for a second, confused, as he feels you crawl into his lap; something you certainly would not do if sober. your hands grab his shoulders, using them to steady yourself as you slip your legs around his waist, knocking him on his ass, instead of crouched like he'd been a second ago.

inhaling sharply the second you press your ass right against his nether regions, geto's hands are moving to your waist, hands tightening as he halts your wiggling.

"what are you—"

you just wink at him, head turning to rest on his shoulder as you turn your attention to gojo who watches on with barely concealed jealousy.

"satoru~" you call out, dragging his name out sweetly on your tongue as you stretch your hands out towards him, fingers wiggling. "come 'ere."

to his credit, gojo realizes he shouldn't given the fact that it was clear you were drunk and not in the right state of mind. but seeing you jump onto geto's lap like that had him burning with want and jealousy and he really isn't in the right state of mind himself as he submits himself to your call and crawls towards you.

you cup his cheek and gojo leans into the touch, mewling.

"pretty boy," you smile, blinking lazily.

gojo practically twinkles at the praise.

geto, still trying to ignore the feeling of you on him, maneuvers his hands, using his strength to push you back, albeit gently. you frown at his actions, attention turned away from gojo as you glare over at him, pouting.

"what's your problem?" you grumble.

geto just shakes his head, sharp eyes turning to gojo. "satoru," he calls, and gojo meets his gaze, ready to argue, before he sees the look being sent his way and is reminded of what's right (blegh) so he pulls his face out of your hand and grabs it instead to push it down, not letting it wander.

"y/n," geto calls again, and you turn to him, shoulders slumped, annoyed at your affections being ignored. "if this was any other time, we'd be all over you given that that's what we've been wanting for months and you know that. but you're drunk."

turning your face away, still perched on his lap, you cross your arms over your chest. "so?"

gojo coughs; "so... it wouldn't be right."

you snort. "as if the two of you care about right versus wrong."

"we do." geto pushes, thumbs stroking your hips. "when it comes to you."

you blink at that, eyes falling back on him with parted lips, before you turn to gojo; he wears a similar expression to geto. sincerity.

leaning forward, gojo brushes a strand of hair from your face, movements soft and gentle as he tucks it behind your ear. "what's the matter, baby? why'd you get drunk?"

feeling cornered and knowing they won't leave it until you answer, you lower your gaze. "it's stupid." you mumble, voice low, barely a whisper.

geto squeezes your hips, shaking his head. "nothing about you is stupid."

you hate them and their sweet, flattering words. you hate even more that it gives it's intended effect in the way that you're unable to resist either of them when they treat you like this.

"my father," you start, feeling that tight feeling your chest well all over again. the alcohol isn't much good for anything other than making you more emotional when forced to confront the emotions you'd desperately tried to forget in your drunken stupor.

"what'd your father do?" gojo sks.

"wants me to get married."

you feel geto tense underneath you and gojo's hand still against your cheek, there soothing movements on your skin stilling as your words hang in the air for a second.

"of course, it'll all be arranged according to him," you continue. now that the words were out, you found you couldn't stop yourself. you were angry and hurt and embarrassed and betrayed and it felt good to get all of your chest. "said i had no choice. i'm supposed to meet my fiance tomorrow... the wedding is supposedly next month."

you feel your eyes water, your emotions spilling over as your lips start to tremble. you can't look at their faces, ashamed even if you shouldn't be. it was your stupid father's fault and yet, you were the one being punished.

it was simply cruel.

your voice starts to tremble before you can stop it; "i haven't met the guy yet and when i tried to explain to my father that i wasn't ready, he... well..." you can't finish your words, the pain on your side that you'd been decidely ignoring, aching more than it had all night in that moment.

but geto and gojo aren't ready to let it go.

"he..." and geto's words are slow, calculated. "what?"

you just turn your head away.

"y/n," gojo calls, voice sharp, anger thinly veiled in his tone; but not at you. "what did your father do?"

"he..." still, the words won't come out. with a huff, you raise your shirt, showing off the bruise that had formed on your hip. your eyes fall shut when the both of them lean forward, geto's hand shifting to press above the bruise, holding his shirt up as gojo lets out a low, guttural growl.

"i'll kill him," gojo hisses, his voice the angriest you've ever heard it.

turning to geto, gojo emphasizes; "i'm going to kill him."

geto wants to agree but one glance at your red and teary-eyed face and he's nudging you to glance at them once again. you oblidge without much fight, turning to face them with wobbly lips and watery eyes, sniffling.

"y/n," geto calls, wanting your attention on him. "it'll be okay."

you just shake your head. "you guys don't get it. i don't have a choice—"

"marry us."

gojo's words cut in before you can finish and everything seems to freeze the second he says them. you pause, stilling in geto's grasp, eyes falling on the white-haired boy with disbelief, confused and bafflement all mixed into one.

for a second you think it's joking and you're about to curse him out for being so insenstive, but his face doesn't change and when you turn to geto, he seems just as serious.

"you're crazy," you breathe, mind spinning. "how... how would that—my father and..."

"the gojo clan is one of the big three clans, y/n. i have sway over these sort of things." gojo explains, face still serious, unwavering. "one word and anything your father says wouldn't matter a damn thing. and besides, i've been planning on asking you to marry me since the moment i layed eyes on you. suguru too."

lips parting, you turn to geto, only to see him smiling softly, nodding.

by the lack of geto's suprise to gojo's offer, you have the sneaking suspicion this is something they've talked about before.

"it can just be a formality," geto offers, sensing your apprehension. "nothing more than writing. i don't even have to be apart of it if you don't want. you just need the gojo name and then that would be that and you can continue on."

"or," gojo continues, "you can still continue on but... but it'd be real. not just a formality and not just in writing. we'd be your husbands and you'd be our wife. nothing would change other than our relationship to each other."

they stop at that, words left in the air as they both stare at you, waiting. your eyes flicker between the both of the, stunned, processing their words.

then, you speak up; "i could... i could still be a sorcerer?"

"of course," geto nods, not hesitating.

"either way," gojo agrees. "i would never take away your right to make a living for yourself."

"and... i'd be married to the both of you?" you whisper.

"if you want."

"only if you want."

you take the both of them in. seriously take them in. even with your mascara running and with a puffy red nose, they look at you like you're their whole world. this is how they always look at you, but it seems to really click in that moment.

their touches are gentle and reassuring and they don't pressure you. they wait for your answer and wait until you're ready to give it. gazes reassuring and smiles on their faces. there's apprehension and it's clear what they want, but they refuse to sway you either way.

they love you. they've told you before, many times but you'd always brushed it off.

you don't this time.

"okay."

the two of them glance at each other. "okay?"

"i'll marry the both of you," you whisper and the two of them straighten, eyes hopeful. "and not just a formality. but... but even if we're married in writing, i'd... i'd still like us to take things slow."

"of course," geto agrees instantly and you blink at how quick he is to oblidge.

"we don't have to have a wedding," gojo explains, then backpeddles. "not at first. it can just be in writing, to get your father off of you. then... in a couple months, maybe..."

"we can make a whole show of it," geto grins.

you snort at that, their excitement lightening your mood. "you're getting ahead of yourselves."

"can't help it," gojo breathes, leaning forward to press his face into the crook of your neck. "we've been dreaming of this."

the admission stuns you.

"don't look so shocked, baby," geto coos, squeezing you so you fall against him. "we've been in love with you for months."

you lean into their touch, basking in it. basking in how... full of love it is.

letting your head fall against geto's shoulders, you close your eyes. "thank you," you whisper into the silence. "both of you. for everything."

geto's grip around you tightens and gojo presses a kiss at the crook of your neck.

"anything for you."

#jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #getou suguru x reader #getou suguru #satosugu #satosugu x reader

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lo1k-diamonds · 23 days ago

Text

Be as it must 💜 Part 6 (end)

“If you let me claim you, I'll never let you leave.”

PAIRING: Alpha!Jungkook x Omega(f)reader

SUMMARY: It's time to make a decision about the future; Jungkook chose you, but what about you?

WORD COUNT: 6.4k

GENRE: ABO, strangers to lovers, fated lovers, smut

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: arguing, anger, teasing, brat!reader, explicit unprotected sex, oral (both), he struggles to reach the bedroom 👀, a vase is broken, marking and knotting

A.N. A huge thank you to @moonleeai for the beta read💜 Here we have it-- the conclusion! This was super fun to write, I hope you all enjoy it! 💜

Masterlist | Masterpost | AO3 | Wattpad | < Previous Chapter

Time was a funny thing — one second, you were standing before seven alphas, the next, you were inside Jungkook’s car again, going home.

You glanced at his chest since you couldn’t look at him. He kept you pressed to his side, enveloped in his arm, his nose firmly to your head. Perhaps he had dozed off, but his embrace was just as firm as before. You wanted to see him, but you let out a small sigh and got more comfy instead.

You had no idea what was happening or what you were doing. There was the fact that the seven of them decided that barring Sunhwa from marrying any of them was not enough to cause social stigma, thus adding plenty of prohibitive deals and sanctions to punish her family’s business and wealth. Then there was the way you didn’t contest that you and Jungkook were made for each other. On top of that, there were all the jokes about him being lucky to have found the one omega probably still out in the world, and it just so happens to be his. Or all the suggestions about contacting his father and elders as a council to inform them of this ban taking effect immediately, which forbade their engagement. You didn’t know where to start unraveling the problem, but you knew it was coming because you were in his arms on your way to his apartment. The apartment you already referred to as home.

What did Hoseok say? Alphas were very protective. Shit.

You let Jungkook take your hand and lead you home, where a familiar view greeted you. In the car, he had made arrangements for Sunhwa to be fired and barred access everywhere immediately, and he personally stopped to change the apartment’s code.

“It’s the day we first met,” he told you, rolling your luggage inside at his insistence.

“You mean the day I was kidnapped and brought to you in zip ties?”

You frowned, and he shook his head, following you into the living room, “No, the day before. Year month day.”

He was serious as he got rid of his coat to throw it over the couch, and you straightened up as well. You had to take the hold of things while you still had it.

“So, here we are,” you started, clearing your voice. “As you might have guessed, I was on my way here when… Right, so I meant to let you talk. Before I leave.”

He only looked at you as he rolled up his sleeves, then he scoffed and headed to the dining room, “Want a drink?”

“No, I’d rather do this sober.”

He stopped and glanced at you, “You want to do this now? Aren’t you exhausted?”

“I don’t go to bed angry.” Your eyebrows jumped; you spoke without thinking. “I mean, yes, but I can’t leave if things aren’t sorted out.”

His jaw twitched as he thought your words over, then he turned to you, “Alright. I think you heard everything you needed to tonight.” His lips twitched, and he pressed them before continuing, “I didn’t have a choice in that marriage contract, and I was doing everything I could to have it annulled. I didn’t mean to lead you on, and in fact, that was not what I was doing.”

Your eyebrow quirked, “It wasn’t?”

“No,” he insisted sternly. “It didn’t mean anything to me.”

“Well, it’s not just about what it means to you, is it?” Your tone hardened as you faced him head-on, “An agreement involves two parts, first of all. Second, it apparently involves even more than two if your whole Family has to establish compensation for cutting it off. Third, it surely does not involve me. I don’t want to be dragged into shit I have nothing to do with.”

“You’re saying this is my fault.”

“That’s not what I said,” you said calmly.

“It’s what you’re implying,” he accused, but you shook your head.

“You didn’t force them to drug me and kidnap me. Don’t put words in my mouth. What I am saying is that you did lead me on.”

“No,” he kept shaking his head, even when faced with your skepticism. “No, because leading on means I meant to deceive you.”

“And you did deceive me,” your voice lost strength, but he kept shaking his head.

“No, I withheld information that wasn’t relevant for the time being because you kept insisting you would fucking leave, and I needed you to—” He stopped, staring at you with equally glistening eyes. Why didn’t it feel like he was saying it right? “I thought that if you felt it, you wouldn’t leave. That you’d be willing to wait for me.”

His eyes watered, but he wanted to say it, even if it sounded like he was weak.

“For me, it was real,” he rushed to add, looking at you. “Every second of us together is real, and it’s all I want. I’m a free man now.”

Your features were still hard, “You still didn’t tell me—”

“Well, I’m sorry!” He threw his hands up, unable to handle the hurt, “You would have never let me near you, but I guess I should have told you!”

“Yes! Yes, you should have!” You shouted back, stepping towards him. “Because if we’re meant to be, do you think that would matter? Do you think a stupid contract that doesn’t represent anyone’s wants would matter?!” He gaped at you, with wide, red eyes locked with yours. “It’s the principle, Jungkook,” you sounded defeated now, regretting shouting. “I mean, we already met in person for the first time when I was taken against my will! I was tied to a fucking chair!”

Your voice wavered as your eyes watered; was he even listening to you?!

He instantly raised his hands to touch your shoulders, but you continued, “This doesn’t work unless there’s trust and honesty, so what the fuck happens now?”

“I apologize, that’s all I can do,” he said, though his anxiety was beaming out of him in waves. “It should have never happened like this. I should have gone to Busan or— If you just had come that day to Seoul like you planned, or— Fuck, there were so many ways to find you, and it still happened in the worst way.”

You pursed your lips, looking at his chest, staying quiet, and he could swear he was seeing his life crumbling down.

“But most of all, you’re right. I should have told you the truth instantly. Even if you left and decided it wasn’t worth it, that would be your decision, which I’d have to respect.”

You finally looked up at him, and the spark in his heart sizzled and died out with the hurt.

“But I fucked it up. I know. You probably can’t trust me; I get it.” He closed his eyes for a second, swallowed, and faced you again. His fated love with such disappointment in your eyes. “I can only explain my thought process, as selfish as it was, and promise you I had no malice. I never meant to hurt you, but I did, and I’m sorry. It would never happen again, ever. I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” his eyes filled with tears, then he shook his head. “But I understand if you don’t want that.”

Your lips twitched, ready to speak your mind, but a sound behind you made you both frown and turn to look.

Someone was trying to type in the code, and the beep indicated an error. Jungkook’s features twisted in fury when a second beep sounded, and he circled you, storming across the room to open the door.

He was so furious the door almost flew out of its hinges when he opened it. He just knew he’d find Sunhwa on the other side, and although she tried looking small, he was enraged, “How dare you try to barge in here again?!”

His roar was powerful, so it was no wonder she shook before him. You tried calling him but to no avail, even as you stepped closer to try to calm him.

“Fucking speak your business before I destroy your life!”

“Please,” Sunhwa started, such a moving plea you pursed your lips from the entry of the living room. “You have to help me. Please, Jungkook!” He let go of the door, and you thought he might actually do something, but he only turned and stepped away toward you. You could see the anger distorting his features, and knew he hated hearing his name on her mouth. “The Families’ decree just passed not even an hour ago, and it’s lethal,” she continued, daring to take one step past the door threshold. “Already, I’ve become a pariah, and my family’s worth is plummeting. Please, I— It was my brother’s idea, I had nothing to do with it!”

“You really think that will work?!” He roared, turning back with such a glare, Sunhwa started shaking on the spot. “The badmouthing, the stalking, the scenes; you really think anyone would believe you? And even if it’s true, you knew about it! You knew what he had planned, and you pretended you didn't! You’re fucking lucky it was only a few penalties! If it was up to me, your whole family would have been kicked out of the country!”

“Jungkook!”

Her call was disheartening, and you stepped in, getting closer to him. He still shouted back, “Don’t fucking say my name! I never gave you permission to; you and I don’t have that kind of relationship!”

You tried drawing his attention without getting in the way when Sunhwa’s tears ran down her cheeks, “But I— I love you, I’ve been in love with you for years—”

Her sobs along with her distress really bothered you, but they were empty to Jungkook, “What the hell are you saying? You work for me, and we had a contract. How the hell did you—”

You finally stepped in, grabbing his hand so he’d look at you, and shook your head, “There’s no point. No point,” you whispered, looking into his eyes. “Let it go.”

You could see his anger simmer down behind his dark eyes, and it relieved you. He had every right to be angry and to feel betrayed by someone he worked closely with. But there was no gain in hurting her, especially since she was already down. He didn’t have to get even more upset, he could be the bigger person and just let it go.

He finally tore his eyes off you to address her calmly, “There’s nothing else to say. Don’t show your face to me ever again. Leave.”

You looked at her too, and saw the moment it dawned on her who you were. Jungkook wasn’t bottling his anger down, he truly listened to you and decided she wasn’t worth it. You could see the hurt in her eyes, but also the thin line of her lips as she turned around and left. She accepted it, you were pretty certain, that you were an omega, and she had been fighting fate.

The door closed softly behind her, and he turned to you. Perhaps he didn’t expect your hug, but you held him to you strongly. That day was overwhelming to you, but it surely was to him as well. Unfortunately, it wasn’t over yet.

He held onto you so strongly, and when you pulled away to face him, you could read the anguish in his face.

“I’m sorry, but we’re not done yet.”

He nodded sadly, and you reached to brush his cheek.

“Hear me out. I came here to talk to you, didn’t I?” He blinked, his sadness disappearing as he looked at you, confused. “I feel it too, Jungkook. Everything you’ve said, I feel it, too. But I just can’t let it go without talking about it. I want to be with you, but I don’t want a life in which I can’t trust my partner, mate or not. Do you understand?”

“I do,” he nodded frantically, pressing his hands around your waist. “I do, and you can trust me. I will never hide anything from you, you’ll have my full heart.”

Your lips twitched into a small smile, “I want to try… Though, are you sure? I have a propensity for trouble, I’m definitely a perfectionist at work, and all your whites will have to go,” you scrunched up your nose playfully, tousling his hair for good measure.

He smirked, closing his watering eyes because of the hair falling over his eyes, “I’d love to, I can sacrifice the whites if the beer can stay.”

“I’ll have to taste it first,” you chuckled, then brushed the hair away from his eyes. “Should I stay for a bit then?”

“As long as you want to,” he whispered, with eyes fixed on your lips.

“Good,” you whispered back, then you grinned because all he did was stare. “You can if you want to, you know?” His doe eyes raised to yours, and you chuckled, “So many times, I thought you’d just kiss me on impulse, and now that I say you can, you don’t?”

He laughed, “Is it because you expect it? It didn’t feel right in those moments. When I lost myself, I… I’m happy I didn’t kiss you then. You were hurt, and it would just make everything harder.”

You nodded with a smile, “My thoughts exactly.”

“Now, I just…” He looked down again, “I want to, but I know what will happen next and…”

“What will happen next?” You pressed teasingly when he didn’t finish, and he pursed his lips.

“I’ll likely give in.”

“Ohhh…” You hummed, “And what does that mean?”

He huffed, looking at you with a raised eyebrow, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Thought you wanted to show me,” you whispered, looking at his lips. “Make me yours.” His tongue wetted his lips. “Give me everything I ever wanted,” you nuzzled him. “Make me feel good—”

He closed the distance between you like a lightning bolt, supporting your jawline. He held nothing back, deepening the kiss as if he wanted to consume you and show you everything you were asking. It didn’t take long for your hands to grab his hair, your tongue licking and fighting his while he squeezed you to him and kept your mouth right there for the taking.

You thought his passionate kiss was the best thing you ever tasted, but you recognized it wasn’t just that. There was electricity sparking between you with every hard breath and daring touch, to the point you acknowledged nothing had ever felt as intense. You were like two clashing celestial bodies heating up to fuse into something better, and the more he touched you and you breathed him in, the more you wanted to merge completely.

His lips traced down to your neck, giving you a moment to suck in breaths brimming with his lustful spicy scent, and you shuddered. You gripped his hair and let out a sigh as you breathed hard near his ear, “Fuck—” His tongue down your neck stole your thoughts and made you sink your nails into his scalp. “Can’t really fight it, can I—”

His protest came in the form of his lips, shutting you up for a moment before he attempted to kiss your neck instead.

“You know, I wanted to go back to Busan,” you said in something that resembled a whine. “Even if just to see if you'd come after me and claim me.”

You gripped his hair to whisper the last words into his ear, and he growled, biting down your neck, making you squeak and start shaking.

But he withdrew, licking the spot, and you chuckled; he could be such a tease, too.

“But I changed my mind,” you continued, seemingly ignoring the way he was suckling, or his hands were exploring your curves, from your shoulders to your ass. It melted you, and you were certain he knew it. “I can’t wait.”

He squeezed you to him, letting you feel his excitement through both your thin slacks, and you chuckled.

“I’m lucky.”

“Lucky?”

“That you can’t think about anything else,” you whispered, and he finally snapped his head back to face you, grabbing your head in place by the hair at the back of your head. “I can only imagine how much fun it would be if you could bring yourself to punish me for teasing you so much… maybe after you make me yours.”

He was so close to you, you intentionally made your tongue brush his lips as you talked. His grip tightened, “Do you hear what you're saying? Do you realize— How am I supposed to hold back?”

“You’re not,” you grinned, wishing with everything you had he’d take you. “I don’t want you to.”

He finally let his mouth crash to yours again, sweeping you with a new wave of raw need. His mouth was demanding, ravishing, melting you in every instance until you were nothing but a puddle wanting to be his.

To the point that when he pulled back again, you whimpered, “Take me. Come on,” your grip on his hair kept him in place. “Take me. I want you, please.”

His lips almost touched yours, but he screwed his eyes shut for a moment before facing you again, “If you let me claim you, I'll never let you leave.”

It sounded like a desperate confession, yet you just whispered, “No?”

“No, I won't let you leave my bed.”

You smirked, “That’s fine, I can work from bed.”

“No work,” he pressed himself to you, pushing you into the entryway wall, and the shivers up and down your spine made you smile again.

“Then no big American consortium agreement.”

“I don't care,” his lips latched to your jawline, and nothing could stop your euphoric glee.

You laughed, “How will you even keep me in bed? Let me guess,” you chuckled. “Does it involve some zip ties?”

He pulled back with eyebrows knitted with befuddlement, “You— You’re crazy!”

You chuckled and used your foot on the wall to gain leverage, pushing yourself against him so that after a twist, it was you pushing him against the wall.

“I am crazy,” you nuzzled him, a second away from jumping into this. “Are you sure you want this?”

His lips fell on yours, moving against yours desperately before you withdrew for an answer, “I wanted your crazy from the moment I first saw you in that video call.” His gaze was red and glinted, fully inebriated on you, “I could have wiped the floor of my drool.”

You couldn’t hold back a laugh, “Well, aren’t you in luck.”

You would have liked to tease him more, but his patience was wearing thin. His hand pressed the back of your nape, forcing you to fall into him as he switched places and pushed you to the wall again, and you sighed. You kissed him just as hard as he did, flush to his chest while you pulled his shirt up to try to finally touch him, but he beat you to it, and you had to close your eyes and bite your lip.

Your blouse cleavage offered no resistance when he decided to rip it so his mouth could trail down between your breasts. It covered you with goosebumps, and you weren’t certain if it was the sound, the force, or his plum lips with a curious tongue along with it, but it didn’t matter. You grabbed his hair, trying to breathlessly keep up with the way his tongue traced intricate patterns on your breast, just above the edge of your bra cup neckline as his hands squeezed your ass to him, so you’d have no way to outrun every shudder.

“What are you—”

You were breathless when he started fumbling with your bra, and squealed when he pulled it so hard the apex hooks broke off. He bit on your soft flesh, nuzzling his way closer until he freed one hand to pull the torn bra away, letting it fall to the floor. You didn’t have a mind to complain because in a second he was pressing his face between your breasts and squeezing them to his cheeks. You bit your lip, unwilling to admit how hot it was that your alpha wanted to breathe you in, but then he started licking and you lost sight of reality.

His thumbs pressed, squeezed, and pinched both your nipples and your supple flesh as his tongue and teeth ravished from one side to the other in a seemingly endless and frantic dance. Whenever you thought he’d give you a breather, he pinched harder, and when you thought he’d move and kiss you again, he jumped to the other nipple, taking you by surprise. You couldn’t tell up from down, your hazy mind overwhelmed and barely getting enough oxygen, but then he made it worse.

He kept your breasts squeezed tightly in his hands while kissing down your stomach, nipping the flesh softly until he reached your slacks. You were pinned in place, holding his hands to your chest while he rubbed his nose down on the fabric over your mound, but then he took a deep breath.

You groaned in desperation, melting straight onto your panties, close to his sensitive nose and mouth. His response was a deep growl and a stronger press of his mouth to your core, which drove you wild. You squirmed and writhed, unable to stop how much you wanted to feel him, even with his hands holding your chest firmly right above your racing heart.

But in a second, they were gone, stripped from under your hands, and you whimpered. You looked down with a pout, about to complain, but it all happened too fast.

He pulled the slacks and underwear down your legs, roughly grabbing your shoes and throwing them aside, and before you could think, he pressed his face the same as before, only this time there was no barrier to protect you.

You squealed and squirmed again, instantly needing to grab onto something as your jaw fell open. Your hand landed on his hair, and your head fell back to the wall, completely lost and overwhelmed. His mouth was in a fury, latched to your folds as he rubbed his face to your core, only stopping to lick every drop of slick you released. You couldn’t help it; everything he did, from the way he breathed to the way he grabbed you, absolutely liquified you until you were sure there was no stopping it.

Worse, his head pushing up pressed on your core hard, making your feet lose traction. You couldn’t stop moaning; even opening your eyes involved too much thinking, but your free hand darted to the side for support.

It slammed into a vase on the foyer table. The shatter on the floor didn’t phase either of you; if anything, his hands gripped your hips rougher, and you squeaked when he sucked your clit a bit harder.

He seemed to be exactly where he wanted to be because as you tried your best to stay afloat, breathing but not drifting away, he kept drinking, suckling, and groaning into your cunt. And in your haze, you forced your eyes open and pouted. It wasn’t like you wanted him to stop, but you wanted to learn all about him, too.

“Jungkook,” you called under your breath, trying your best to stop moaning, but you closed your eyes. Fuck, he made it hard. “Jungkook, stop.”

He instantly pulled away, looking up at you with dark, thundering eyes, but you smirked. His mouth and chin were red and shiny; he was a whole damn view.

“I need to lay down,” you breathed, reaching your hands to him, and he instantly got up and grabbed them, kissed them, and then you.

It was just a peck; it made you pout, but his pulling you in the direction of the couch kept you quiet.

He motioned for you to sit down and went to kneel in front of you, but you pulled on his hand to stop him and said, "Lay down."

“I thought you said—”

“Lay down,” you simply repeated, pulling the leftovers of your blouse from your shoulders.

It seemed to hit him then that you were fully naked in front of him, and he probably needed to sit down, judging by the way he eyed you from head to toe. It put a mischievous smile on your face, only you didn’t forget that he was fully clothed, and that simply wasn’t fair.

You kneeled next to him and reached for the first button on his shirt, starting what you guessed was a gruesome process, if only judging by the way he groaned.

“Let me just—”

“No,” you stopped him from pulling the shirt over his head and kept going.

You could tell how the imposed reprieve drove him crazy. His fingers were impatiently touching your sides while his eyes kept jumping between your heaving chest, your slicked core, and your playful smile.

“I don’t need to be naked to eat you out,” he finally said, and you chuckled. That was how long it took for him to gather a coherent thought.

“That’s true, but it’s not fair, is it?”

Your tone was sweet as you leaned to pull the shirt over his shoulders, and he swallowed, overwhelmed. “I guess not. But you told me to lay down.”

He was thinking out loud while you hummed, moving onto his slacks.

“I don’t want to lay down,” he argued with knitted eyebrows, and you chuckled as you pulled his boxers and pants down, pulling off his shoes so he’d be naked, same as you. “Let me keep going.”

You sat back on the couch with your heart in your throat, momentarily so hot and speechless your tongue became slack. Jungkook was absolutely stunning, the embodiment of a god from head to toe. You knew his shoulders were wide and safe, his arms powerful, and his hands reliable, but now his firm chest and chiseled abs gave a new definition to the word hot. Your mate was just as handsome as he was mouthwatering, and his only sin was not entering your life sooner.

“What a dream…” You spoke so quietly you doubted he heard you. You were entranced, so perhaps your actions showed better than your words.

You got on his lap, finally dropping your eyes to the appetizing shaft aiming right at you. Your hand wrapped around him firmly before you could even think; after all, there was nothing like touching to truly know, and oh boy. He groaned and let his head drop, and it made your guts burn with want. Your hand had a will of its own as you jerked him, playing with the intensity of your grip. He eyed you when it became too soft, and the absolutely fucked out look on his face made you want him a thousand times more, and you squeezed harder.

He groaned again, knitting his eyebrows in such a way you knew you had him.

But you stopped and pushed him by the shoulders to get him to lay back, making him open his eyes and look at you with a question in his eyes.

“You told me to let you,” you told him, unaware of the way your glistening eyes and dark long hair framed you like a goddess in his eyes.

So he mumbled something and fell back, unable to displease you in any way. Fortunately, you had his interest in mind because you shifted on top of him with your hands near his hips and your knees on each side of his head, and he sighed. The view of your wet cunt was an oasis, so when you dropped to his mouth, he latched on.

You arched your back instantly, barely keeping yourself in check. Fuck, was the way he licked you maddening, but you had other priorities. You kept your ass up but lowered your chest to his stomach, finally drawing near to your prize. Your tongue peeked instantly between your lips, but you held back, taking the view of his excitement for the treat it was. Until he groaned between your legs, a translucid drop of precome escaping his slit, and you couldn’t hold back anymore.

You lounged forward to take his cock into your mouth, and his desperate groan ran a shudder down your spine. You didn’t know if it was because you had moved away from his mouth or because of the way you took him, but the latter was most likely.

Because his hands gripped your ass to pull you back on him, but not before he grunted a Fuck— like he’d bust his nut right then and there.

It made you even more hungry, and his taste didn’t help. It matched his strong, perfect self to a T; it razed your mind and changed your brain chemistry. You knew he’d claim you very soon, but even if he didn’t, nothing would ever taste the same, and you wanted it.

Your thoughts were clouded as you took him more and more, letting the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat like it was nothing. The hunger was dizzying, the flavors invading your mouth addictive, and you wanted more and more and—

Your world was overturned so quickly it became a blur. Suddenly, you were pushed against the back of the couch and forced to let go of the candy in your mouth, only to fall on your back between the cushions and have your legs spread as a heavy body fell between them.

“What the hell are you doing?”

He was nearly growling near your face, pinning your hands to each side of your head, and you grinned, “What?”

“What?” He was in disbelief at the way you kept smiling so gleefully, “You want me to burst too soon?”

You let your head fall back to giggle euphorically, but then you bit your lip and tried sobering up, “We have the whole night.”

“No, not to claim you, I don’t,” his reply was instant. “No way I’m waiting, not even one night.”

Your lip was still seductively between your teeth, “You could, though… We could have fun in other ways… You could just make me feel good while you recover.”

Your smile was almost endearing; a proposition covered in honey, but he wouldn’t fall for it. He raised his hips and brought them close so that his cock aligned with your slit and slid, rubbing your clit.

You moaned with a flutter of your eyelashes, blushing and trembling so sweetly just for him, and he smiled, “Don't you have everything figured out? Aren't you a fucking tease?”

“What do you mea—”

Your laugh died in your throat when he pushed in, invading your warmth, unable to control the way he stretched you to accommodate his size. His groan was deep and vanished as he raised his head, showing you the veins on his neck, and you whimpered even harder. Your jaw slacked as he pushed to tuck himself in fully, and your whole body burned with the fit.

You had to suck for breaths, feeling so hot that sweat was inevitable. You closed your legs behind him, pushing him into you, and he groaned, finally looking down at you like you were his whole world.

He meant to come closer to you, but you placed your hands on his shoulders to stop him, glancing down between your bodies as your legs guided his hips. It was mind-blowing, almost unbelievable, but it was right there — his thick, hard cock disappearing inside you, pushing moans out of you, coming out covered in your slick just to push into you again. It was so delicious you melted into the couch, wrapping your hands around his neck to bring him to your lips. He was incredible, unbelievable, beyond your wildest dreams, and only getting better as he quickened his thrusts.

They weren’t remotely fast, but the sensory overload was almost a reality. You weren’t just burning for him; you were combusting for you both — establishing a bond that couldn’t be forged with anyone else. Your logical mind would have stopped to analyze what you were doing, weighing the pros and cons, but there was no rationale behind how you felt about him. Only raw instinct telling you and making you sure with every fiber of your being that it was right. You belonged in his arms, in that moment with him, and you were ready.

But his hips started slowing down, and your brow furrowed, confused but also hurt. You were ready, and he was stopping — were you in dissonance?

But a kiss on your lips, along with a sigh, made you realize that was not what was going on. He nuzzled you, with soft eyes on yours as he let your foreheads touch, and you knew it wasn’t that. He was ready, too.

“Hold on,” he rasped, placing his hands between your ass cheeks and the couch, and you wrapped your arms around his neck firmly.

He pulled you up with a grunt, holding you to him as he stood, still inside you while your legs closed around him. You clenched in your effort, making him grunt a second time, which put a smile on your lips as you bit his earlobe.

Despite your torture, he was resilient; he still turned and left the room, going up the stairs. It was hard, though, and he was weak. Your touches, kisses, nibbling his earlobe, and clenching around his cock were dizzying. He thought he’d make it to the first floor, but he succumbed over the last few steps. Your ass landed on the last step softly while he stumbled to his knees, and it was uncontrollable.

Your legs pulled him to you while your arms held him; your eyes and expression showed how much you yearned for him, which were his kryptonite. He couldn’t help but eagerly get on his knees and bury himself inside you again, letting your heat clench around him like a vice.

It was maddening, and the way your scent called to him was only the cherry on top of an otherworldly desert. Nothing had ever felt like you did; his nerves were on fire with every thrust, only to have him obsessing over sinking into you again and again.

You had fallen down the same spiral because you kept moaning and scratching his shoulders to keep him close, helping by pushing against his ass so he’d fuck you deep. He knew you’d drive him crazy, but fuck. He was about to claim you on top of the stairs.

“Wait wait wait,” he mumbled, hoping you’d help him fight himself.

You did, stopping the sway of your legs and kissing the sweaty side of his face endearingly to let him breathe. He did breathe, but his heart was melting — you were perfect and just for him. He couldn’t wait any longer.

With one final effort, he held you back up and carried you to his bed. He was able to lay you down gently, but that was the last of his ability. His lips pressed to yours, and in seconds, his hunger flared, devastatingly, completely overwhelming you.

Your chin had permanently dropped as he grunted to your cheek in tune with your moans. Everything shook: the bed, your limbs, your soul. The heat pooling between your legs as he fucked you wild, without an ounce of control, helped him slide even better and bottom out every time. The way he touched every sweet spot, flooding every sense with his groans, his scent and salty taste brought you pleasurable dimensions you didn’t even know existed. All you knew was that it was raw and crazy and everything you ever wanted.

He pulled away enough to face you, “Are you sure?”

You almost wanted to cry; how could he even think right now?

But in your heart, that was the last piece of the puzzle. You smiled with tears in your eyes, “Yes.”

You had barely noticed his pounding slowing, but you surely noticed when the rhythm became maddening again. Your moans pitched unbelievably as you sank your nails into his shoulders, begging him with your eyes. You needed him to come with you.

He waited a second longer, then crashed to your neck, and reality spun. The pressure inside your walls from his knot would have made you squeal, but it was his bite that made you scream. And as if that wasn’t overwhelming enough, your orgasms snapped and mixed, allowing you to squeeze him between your walls as the pleasure devastated you, making sure to milk every drop of his climax.

His cock kept twitching inside you, even after he had stopped grunting into your neck, and it made you sensitive. Still, you loved his weight on top of you and his licks over your mark. You brushed your fingers over his powerful arms and shoulders, sighing with contentment as he took care of you. Inside you, as your heart calmed down, something strong and unbreakable embraced it protectively. You wrapped your arms around him and closed your eyes, holding back the tears — you were part of each other now. Fated to meet, fated to love; you were connected now.

“Did I hurt you?”

His voice was a warm whisper to your ear, and you shook your head, ��No.”

He held you for as long as you kept your arms firm around him. Then, he pulled back to face you, your red cheeks, wild long hair, and glistening eyes. He sighed, “Is this how it will always be?”

You hummed and blinked up at him lazily.

“Are you always going to be such a fucking tease?”

Your eyebrows jumped in surprise, but then you started laughing. Finally, you bit your lip to hide a smirk, “I hope so.”

204 notes · View notes

isawritesshit · 1 year ago

Text

The Color Blue - Prologue

image taken from @ lovevivianne on pinterest

Synopsis: As the only daughter to the leader of the Kamo Clan, you were trained and protected to one day bring your father honor through your marriage to the heir of the Gojo Clan. However, your husband ended up being something that your family never prepared you for. As you come to navigate a new world of politics between the clans, your husband convinces you that there is nothing wrong with honoring yourself too.

Warnings and Content: fem! reader, fluff, themes of forced/arranged marriage, hints of mental abuse, mentions of sex, mentions of menstrual cycle

Author's Note: As promised, the official start of my next Gojo series! Just for context, this is an AU of the JJK canon events (no KFC breakup, and as of now, no mention of Megumi). It is also inspired a little bit by my other Gojo series Someone. Other things I want to flag is that I do plan for there to be nsfw content in this series, as well as themes of physical and mental abuse. As of now, I am unsure how long this series will be. Updates will depend on my availability to write.

Word Count: ~2.4k

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People would say that if there was one thing that Gojo Satoru was not, it would be committed. Not in all ways, however. Satoru was very committed to his sorcery, to the protection of ordinary people and the balance of the their world and the jujutsu one. It was relationships that he struggled with. Yes, he had always had an authority problem, both growing up and even now, so his relationships with jujutsu elders and other clan leaders were never good to begin with, especially when he became a clan leader himself and took up the title as “The World’s Strongest Sorcerer”. However, his friends? He cared deeply for them, but he could never show them that, lest he risk the possibility of them getting hurt for that same reason. Lovers? Absolutely not. They would last a week at best, hence why his friends would say he had commitment issues.

But, what many people did not know was that Satoru was betrothed to be married, and if there was one thing that he could say that he was committed to, it was that.

And not just because he knew that the responsibility of upholding the Gojo Clan’s honor and survival was on his shoulders, but also for a reason that no one could have predicted.

The first time Satoru had seen his future bride, they were both young, too young to understand why each of their parents were sitting across from one another, or why the most important members of the Kamo Clan were staring him down when he was barely even five years old. But when his parents asked to see you, that’s when everything changed.

You were carried into the room by a caregiver and left in between the two families like you were some kind of meal. A veil-like mask covered the front of your face from the nose down, but Satoru could tell you were roughly his age. Your wide eyes looked about. First at your caregiver, who stepped out of the room with a bow, then to your parents, who didn’t even seem to notice you, then to his parents, and then finally to him, the only other child in the room.

Gojo Satoru didn’t know it at the time, but it was at that moment that he had fallen in love with you. That same day, it was agreed upon that the two of you would wed when he was 25 and shortly after you turned 24. That seemed like such a long time, but… Satoru decided that maybe he would try to speak to you when he saw you next.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t possible. Both of your families kept each of you on a tight leash, and neither were inclined to meet with one another just because the Gojo heir wanted to see his bride. They were rival clans after all, with a long history of vendettas and alliances.

However, just because Satoru saw you once didn’t mean that he stopped thinking of you. Even as a pre-teen, he sounded out your name in his head, sometimes aloud when he was alone. Kamo (Y/N). It was one of the few things he knew about you, other than what your eyes looked like. He knew that those eyes had likely changed over the years since the first time he saw you, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t think about them. About you.

There were a few other things Satoru knew about you. You were the only daughter of Arao Kamo, the Kamo Clan head. Not only that, you were his youngest child and had three older brothers, all of whom Satoru had never met before. He would take in what his parents would tell him about you, though it wasn’t much; only that you had a different cursed technique from the blood manipulation that ran strong in the Kamo line, and that you were naturally beautiful for your age.

But Satoru wanted to know more. He wanted to know what your interests were and if they were similar to his. He wanted to know more about your cursed technique and what kind of training you had received. He knew that you would receive some kinds of etiquette and liberal arts education, as was normal for daughters of the clans to do, but did you like any of those things? What foods do you like? How have you grown?

What did the rest of your face look like? That was the question that replayed constantly in his head after Satoru was notified that him and his parents were to meet with your family again to make some further updates to the arrangement. Maybe this would be his chance for him to finally speak with you, to get to know you.

But it was just the same as before. There was no caregiver to bring you in this time though, and no other Kamo representatives other than your mother and father, whom you sat beside.

Satoru remembered staring at you the whole time, taking you in. His parents didn’t lie. You were beautiful and he hadn’t even seen all of you, and you also carried yourself maturely for a young girl. Your eyes had changed, of course, more grown but still just as wide and lively as he remembered. Your face was no longer obscured by a mask. Instead, you held a delicate fan that matched the kimono you wore, covering your face as you listened intently while your parents spoke, but never speaking yourself.

You didn't look in his direction even once.

The meeting had concluded before he knew it had begun. His parents had needed confirmation of your fertility, since they were to be among the first to be notified when you started your cycle. However, in an offer that was a bit unexpected, your father had requested that the marriage date be moved up five years, to which his parents agreed. That part made Satoru ecstatic. Instead of waiting 12 years, he now would only have to wait seven.

With that, you bowed and departed behind your parents, swift and silent. Satoru tried not to look like he was running as he tried to catch another glimpse at you when his parents excused him, but when he peered out the nearest window that overlooked the front lawn where you had arrived, you were already gone.

And so, Satoru would go another seven years. Another seven years of thinking of you, dreaming of you, wondering what you looked like behind your fan and cosmetics. He had hoped to see you enrolled in the same class as him at Jujutsu Tech, though he knew for a fact that you most likely would not be. Your parents, more so your father, he realized, protected and sheltered you more than ever after that second meeting. He had expected you not to show up to that first day of school, but when that first day was over and you actually didn’t, a small part of his heart still sank.

Satoru did take some females to bed during the next seven years you spent apart, mostly out of curiosity as to what sex felt like, but also by persuasion of his friends. However, his friends would get confused as to why he would never allow those girls to stay the next morning, or why he would insist on wearing a condom even when they gave him permission to finish inside. He would give the excuse (thought it really was the truth) that he actually wasn’t that interested, or that he also wanted to protect against STDs (the latter was a great insult that had women storming out on him, to his relief). In reality, he wanted his first real time, his first enjoyable time, to be with you. Even if he was allowed to take on any amounts of lovers he wanted both in marriage and out of it, he felt guilty knowing that you had to save yourself for him. So, in a way, he was saving himself for you too.

As the years came closer and closer, he began to think of you more and tried to subtly gather more information on you, to little avail. He knew that this pining and longing could be considered childish, but he didn’t care. Was it wrong to want to come to love, to already be in love, with the person he was to spend the rest of his life and create a family with? Satoru certainly didn’t think so.

However, that didn’t mean he was without restraint. After his parents had passed and the mantle of the Gojo Clan leader was given to him, he didn’t try or demand to see you. After all, the two of you could still be considered strangers. Hell that is what you were, he had to remind himself. He figured it would be best to keep you with your family and not disturb your current life, especially since you would be seeing your family less once you came to live with him (but also because he didn’t want you to see him as some obsessed maniac). He decided he would be patient and wait, which would make your first real meeting with him all the more sweeter.

Those seven years passed by too fast, he realized as he stood in the center of a magnificent shrine in what could have been the most spectacular and slightly uncomfortable outfit he had ever worn. Your family surrounded him on almost all sides as they awaited your arrival at sunset. Your parents and your brothers with their wives sat off to Satoru's right, and he could feel their eyes on him the entire hour that he stood there in a calm panic. After what seemed like an eternity, your headpiece peaked slowly over the hill as you ascended the path to the shrine. He held his breath.

He noticed your eyes again first.

They were downcast, melancholy, almost near lifeless. Not anywhere the lively pools of color he remembered and saw so often in his dreams. Your blank expression was such a contrast to the splendor of your being. Indeed, he thought that he was being pledged to a goddess, the way your updone hair and headpiece played in the golden sunlight, the way the whites, golds, and reds of your wedding kimono and wraps made you look like a princess, and the way your face, your whole face, looked like it had been extracted from a star.

To put simply, you were the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen.

Finally, you found your place beside him, your hands clasped in the folds of your long sleeves. It took you standing this close for Satoru to realize how much smaller you were than him, though he quickly discerned how much your face and demeanor had shaped into womanhood since he last saw you. He would catch glimpses of you when he could throughout the ceremony, taking in more of your features that you had laid out for him. The curves of your face, the shade and suppleness of your skin, delicateness of your hands... His heart was beating so rapidly, hoping that you would look back at him at least once.

But you never did, even when you presented one another with ceremonial wine, or when you took his arm to leave the shrine for the reception dinner that was filled to the brim with Kamo Clan members and other officials. As soon as you both entered that reception, your fan was over your face. You didn’t say a word to him the whole time, so he never said anything to you.

A cold sweat had laid itself over Satoru as you said goodbye to your family members. It wasn’t the type of goodbye that he would expect a family to give to their only daughter. There was no affection, no emotion shown, as if leaving your family was merely another ceremony. And then you turned back to him, eyes still looking down of course, and got into his car without a word.

Satoru could tell that something was wrong and off about you. Sure, you had carried yourself gracefully throughout the entire evening. Every movement you had made between walking and eating and sitting was done to absolute perfection. Maybe it was those monotone movements that should have been his first sign. No, it wasn’t that. It had to have been your eyes. Why were they always so bleak? Why did you never look up at him or make eye contact with him or speak to him? What had happened to you since the last time he saw you?

At least your fan wasn’t up. That he could be thankful for. Satoru sighed. He couldn’t help but feel like the happiest day of his life, the one where he finally got to be with the girl he had loved for 15 years, was the saddest day of your own. He wanted to ask about it so bad, now that he had you alone, but he didn’t. He would just look at you every so often as you watched the Tokyo scenery pass by through the car window. Maybe this was your way of taking everything in, and he didn’t want to disrupt that. He trusted that you would talk when you were ready.

You remained silent as the car stopped and he walked you up the stairs to the front door of his home estate, one of the many under the Gojo name. Your new home. In a perfect world, in what he had imagined previously, you would have been smiling and excited as he picked you up to walk you through the doorway. In that world, you would have hugged and kissed him as he twirled you around and around in your own private celebration.

The door closing behind him brought him back to reality. You now stood in the center of his grand foyer, eyeing the dark polished wood and rich splendor of your new dwelling place. The space was only illuminated by shaded lamps and a dim glass chandelier above the grand staircase. A new couch, your couch, was against one wall, one of many of your belongings that had been moved in a week ago. Satoru decided to sit on that couch while you stood in the center of the room, looking down, not moving.

Satoru couldn’t take this anymore. It was like you treated the floor like it was the most interesting thing in the world. As if he, your new husband, wasn’t sitting ten feet away from you. He even considered the possibility of you being deaf or mute for a moment. No, he didn’t know what to do, other than speak to you. But what to say? Are you feeling okay? Are you happy? Sad? Were your clothes uncomfortable? How come you didn’t speak or look at him? At anyone? Was it something you were afraid of? Were you afraid of…

That had to be it.

“Are you afraid of me?”

#isawritesshit #jjk #jjk smut #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #female reader #gojo smut #satoru gojo #anime #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo smut #arranged marriage #forced marriage #someone #the hoes gonna love this

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bangtanficsforyou · 2 months ago

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All that Sparkles (KTH)

Pairing: Taehyung x reader

Genre: Fluff, angst (smut if I write a second part)

Au: Arranged marriage, CEO Taehyung.

Warning: mentions of alcohol, curse words (so far).

Rating: 18+

Summary: you are married to Kim Taehyung; the ever charming, dashing, smart and rich CEO of Divine Diamonds. He’s sweet, kind and polite, unlike anything you’d ever expect from someone who was born with a silver spoon in their mouth. Only problem; you don’t feel a connection. Your marriage feels dull. However, the day you bring him home for a family dinner with your parents, things change.

Word count: 3.5K

A/N: whether I write a second part or not, totally depends on the feedback i get from you guys! Honestly, speaking, I love writing this Taehyung 😭

Masterlist | Patreon

Also, just so that you know, I'm dropping Deep Learning tomorrow on my patreon. So if you want to, you can check it out 😉 (all I can tell you is, it's FILTHY)

The city lights blurred as the sleek black car glided through the quiet streets, the muted hum of the engine filling the silence. Taehyung sat beside you, his posture as perfect as ever, his hand resting on his lap, while his eyes were fixed on the road ahead.

You, on the other hand, sat quietly, your gaze turned toward the window. Outside, the world felt far away, the night serene. The aftermath of the glamorous gala still hung between the two of you like a thin veil—his perfect charm, the effortless way he commanded attention, and the countless eyes that had been on you two.

But now, in the stillness of the car, the reality felt heavier. You watched as the streets passed by, your mind swimming with unspoken thoughts.

As the car approached a stoplight, your eyes landed on a small family on the sidewalk. A couple was standing outside a little bakery, bundled up against the night chill, laughing as their young daughter twirled in circles between them. The mother crouched down to fix the girl’s scarf, and the father pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his daughter’s head. Their laughter was faint, but it reached you through the glass like a distant melody.

You smiled faintly, almost longingly, watching the family as the car waited at the light. Your chest tightened, a soft ache blooming where warmth should have been. You glanced at the father again, the way his eyes crinkled with affection, and you wondered what it feels like to feel like that.

The light turned green, and the car moved on, leaving the happy scene behind. But your thoughts lingered there, on that simple moment of joy you had witnessed from afar.

Without turning your head, you spoke, your voice soft, barely louder than a whisper. “Did you enjoy yourself at the gala?”

Taehyung blinked, turning slightly to look at you. “I did. Did you?”

You kept your eyes on the window, watching the city pass by. “I did.”

That marked the end of the words being exchanged between the two of you.

The car slowed as the two of you approached your house, the headlights casting soft shadows on the driveway. The silence remained, heavy and unsettling.

As the car pulled to a stop, Taehyung glanced at you briefly before stepping out of the car.

You watched him through the window as he walked around the front of the vehicle, his movements graceful and precise. His polished shoes clicked softly against the pavement, his suit perfectly in place even after hours of mingling and formalities. The faint light of the porch illuminated his figure as he approached your side of the car, and in a practiced, gentlemanly motion, he opened your door.

You hesitated for a second, your eyes on him as he stood there, holding the door open, his gaze soft but unreadable.

“Thank you,” you murmured, slipping your hand into his as you stepped out of the car. The warmth of his palm was a contrast to the cool night air, and for a brief moment, your fingers lingered together, an unspoken exchange passing between them.

Taehyung smiled faintly, that same polite, careful smile you have seen countless times.

As you stepped onto the driveway, he gently closed the car door behind you, his hand still resting lightly on your back as you walked toward the house. The night was quiet, the distant hum of the city fading away as you entered the familiar solitude of the house.

For a moment, you glanced up at him, your heart tightening at the way he moved with such control, such grace, even now. There isn’t even a single strand of his hair that is out of place.

As the two of you approach your shared bedroom, Taehyung speaks up, “I have some files I need to go through.”

“You’ll be in your office?”

“Don’t stay up for me. Sleep tight,” he gives your waist a small squeeze and with a small smile of confirmation, lets you go.

“Good night,” you say, with an exhale and head inside the bedroom.

By now, you should be used to this. At least, that is what you tell yourself. Why then, do you still feel this sensation of disappointment lingering in your chest?

Kim Taehyung is handsome. The kind of handsome that makes you think he’s unreal. The kind of handsome, that can turn someone into a sixteen year old girl with a crush. The kind of handsome that makes you think he’s a painting.

Kim Taehyung is polite. The kind of polite that makes the grandmas at the country club wish they had a grandson like him. He’s the kind of polite that makes him the favorite uncle among all his niece and nephews.

Kim Taehyung is also charming. Very very much so. The kind of charming that will draw all and any attention in the room, the moment he walks in.

But that is all that you know about Kim Taehyung, your husband.

When you first learnt that your marriage has been fixed with none other than the CEO of Divine Diamonds and the only heir of the Kim family, you expected the worst.

What else were you to think upon learning that you were to marry a man who has always had everything they needed right under their fingertips? Someone who was born with a silver spoon in their mouth?

His flawless reputation and clean history, only added to your suspicion. A clear and perfect image is a clear indication of the power and control you have to clean up traces of all your sins.

You expected a man who’s all charming and sweet in front of the cameras but an arrogant, cold and cruel man, behind closed doors. That, or a man-child.

However, you were surprised on the very first night of the wedding when you realized he was still as polite, kind and gentleman like, even though there was no one watching.

You remember thinking there must be something. That sooner or later the other shoe would drop. That sooner or later you’d realize this is all a façade and your initial assumptions about Kim Taehyung were indeed right.

The first month after your marriage you tip toed around him like a scared cat. Maintaining distance and not speaking more than two words, unless necessary.

After the first month though, you started letting your guard down. You thought maybe you were being too harsh on him and maybe you should give him a chance to be the person he actually is instead of trying to view him through the negative nancy lenses you had on.

Somewhere, with that thought was also the hope of having a happy marriage life.

However, as soon as you started to open up, the other shoe dropped.

Kim Taehyung was rich, handsome, polite, kind, charming and a perfect gentleman. However, his flawlessness soon became an issue, to you.

How can a person be perfect and flawless? No human on this planet is so perfect that they start feeling unreal.

How can a person be always so cheerful, kind and smiling? You have never seen any real emotion in him that would make you feel like despite the abundance of wealth and good looks, Kim Taehyung is a human like the rest of us.

You have never seen him frown, being annoyed, sad or angry. You haven’t even seen him laugh or being excited, ever. Nothing that feels real.

And six months of marriage is a long time, to go without observing any of these on your partner.

In the six month, that you have been married to him, you both have never shared a single real conversation.

Yesterday’s three sentence conversation would serve as a pretty good example and summation of all the conversations you have shared with Taehyung so far.

“Did you enjoy yourself at the gala?”

“I did. Did you?”

“I did.”

The only major difference being, in the past, you had always tried to continue the conversation and deepen them. However, as days passed by, you have slowly started to give up.

You have come to accept the fact that maybe this is how your marriage will be. You will be one of those many people that gets to know Kim Taehyung for the perfect man he is and not as the real Taehyung with all his flaws and humanness, as his wife.

After five whole months of trying constantly but failing, you’ve started to make peace with the fact that you will always be on the other side of the glass, watching him but never truly reaching him.

Like the pristine glass walls in your home, separating the inside from the outside, there’s an invisible barrier between you and him. You can see Taehyung, admire him even, but the connection you crave remains out of reach. Just like the glass, no matter how close you get, you’ll always remain on the outside—never able to step through and touch the real him.

You have come to realise, with a quiet resignation, that you may always be a guest in his life, kept at arm’s length, while the real him stays locked away.

As you cascade down the stairs, you spot Taehyung sitting on the breakfast table with his breakfast untouched. The moment you make your presence known, he looks up and greets you, “Good morning. I was waiting for you.”

“You didn’t have to,” you mumble as you take a seat.

“Would you like to have the cereals first, or the pancakes?” He queries.

“I’ll just have the cereal,” you say and your hands reach for the cereal box but Taehyung beats you to it.

“I’ll do it for you.”

“I can do it,” you interject.

“Never said you couldn’t,” Taehyung smiles.

Anyone else would probably fawn at how caring of a husband Taehyung is. But all you feel is like a guest, he is doing formality with.

You don’t object however, knowing that despite what you might have to say, Taehyung will insist.

Much like any other day, you expect the entirety of the breakfast to be spent in silence. However, Taehyung speaks up, after a few more minutes of scrolling through his phone.

“Your father has invited us to dinner this Sunday.”

All your movements come to a halt and a weird feeling takes over your body. “Did he?”

“Yes,” he nods, “Do you want to go?”

“Uh, I don’t mind,” you mumble, your eyes fixed on the cereal as it gradually turns soggy.

“Then I’ll just let him know that we will be coming.”

“Sure.”

You nod, barely paying attention as the cold marble beneath your feet makes you shiver slightly, reminding you just how empty and vast the house feels.

You have come to this understanding that people in general have this idea that the rich and wealthy are these bad, evil people who would do anything to continue to be in power. But in your experience, nothing beats ambitious people who would do anything, to be like the rich and wealthy.

The thought of what they could have is mighty dangerous. The greed of power, money and control can make a person let go of all their morals and conscience.

Rich people might be arrogant and egoistic, but their ego often makes it easy for them to be manipulated. You adhere to their ego and you can make them do almost anything.

A man with greed and hunger, however has nothing they care for, except for that which they have their eyes on. That is what makes them powerful in a dangerous way.

“We heard you were fond of Indian cuisine,” your mother speaks as she serves some more of the pulao she has specially made for Taehyung. By “made” you mean she hired a chef for a day.

“It’s wonderful,” Taehyung began, “Although, you didn’t have to go through all that trouble.”

“Nonsense,” your father dismisses Taehyung’s words. “You’re like our son. It’s never a trouble.”

“Plus, I know our daughter can’t really cook,” your mother gives you a fleeting glance, her smile soft but her gaze condescending. “You probably don’t get to enjoy food made by your wife.”

You refuse to look up from your plate and start mixing the pulao with the curry, hastily.

“It’s sad you know,” your father chimes in, his voice coated with regret. “We tried to make her understand that no matter who she gets married to, she should not be a burden. But all she was focused on, was her computer science course.”

“It’s unfortunate really,” your mother sighs. “And people think that we have failed as parents.”

“She was doing a course in computer science?” Taehyung asks, sounding curious. “I have never heard about it before.”

Oh no, not the computer course that was a ‘total waste of money’. The ‘wasted’ money was yours, but wasted nevertheless.

“Uh yeah, she had this passion for computers and did bachelors in computer science,” your mother speaks vainly, as if unable to understand why would you ever think that to be a good idea.

“Computer science degrees are highly in demand now,” Taehyung comments. “Why did you not take up a job?”

You feel startled when you realize that Taehyung is speaking to you. However, you’re saved from answering and being a part of the conversation for your mother answers the question.

“She didn’t manage to get a job.”

Sure, that’s what happened, mother.

“Really?” Taehyung sounds surprised. “But I thought she got offer letters from two major MNCs.”

Your eyes snap up to look up at him. How does he know?

Your mother’s smile wavers slightly, but she quickly recovers, offering a dismissive chuckle. "Oh, well, those offers didn’t work out. You know how it is, the competition is tough. Some people just... aren’t cut out for certain roles."

Taehyung’s eyes flicker in your direction, the corners of his lips curling into a calm smile. "Interesting," he murmured, his tone light and thoughtful. "I wasn’t aware that receiving offers from two major multinational corporations meant someone wasn’t cut out for success."

The room grew quieter, the weight of Taehyung’s words hanging in the air.

Your father clears his throat. “It’s a good thing that the jobs didn’t work out. If she was working, who would take care of you?”

Taehyung’s smile remained, but there was something cold lurking behind his gentle expression.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he said, his voice still warm, even as the temperature in the room seemed to drop. “Because, you see, if anyone were to ever imply her as a burden…” His smile widened, though the look in his eyes was anything but friendly. “…I might feel… obliged to repay the favour in ways that others find unpleasant.”

Your parents exchanged glances, a thin layer of unease settling over their previously confident demeanour.

“Oh, we didn’t mean it that way, Taehyung. Of course, she’s not a burden—she’s our daughter,” your mother says quickly, her voice higher-pitched than usual. “We only want what’s best for her.”

Taehyung tilts his head slightly, his eyes still fixed on your parents. The smile never leaves his face, but it’s cold now—calculated. “I understand. After all, we wouldn’t want any misunderstandings.” His gaze flicks to you for a brief second, and that dangerous gleam lingers. “Especially when it comes to family.”

For the first time, you feel like you are seeing him—not the perfectly polite husband or the charming CEO—but a man with layers far more complex and unsettling than you’d imagined. It isn’t anger in his eyes; it’s control. A silent reminder that, in this room, he holds all the power.

The silence that follows is suffocating, and you can feel the tension crackling like electricity in the air. You glance down at your plate, your pulse quickening. Taehyung’s charm had always been disarming, but now, it feels like a weapon he wields with deadly precision.

Your father coughs lightly, breaking the oppressive quiet. “Of course, Taehyung, we didn’t mean any offence. You know how we can be sometimes, just trying to look out for her.” His laugh is forced, and you can tell he’s trying to regain control of the conversation.

Taehyung leans back in his chair, his expression softening ever so slightly. “I’m sure you are,” he says, his tone once again light, almost playful. But that undercurrent of danger remains, simmering just beneath the surface. “I’m only concerned for my wife’s well-being. After all, she’s the most important person to me now.”

The room seems to exhale as Taehyung’s words hang in the air. Your mother smiles shakily, and your father nods, but you can tell they are both on edge, uncertain of what had just happened.

You, however, can’t shake the feeling that something has shifted between you and Taehyung. For the first time, you see the real him—not the perfect husband, but the man behind the mask. And that man is far more dangerous than you ever realised. You feel like you are standing at the edge of a cliff, unsure whether to step forward or retreat.

In that moment, Taehyung turns his gaze back to you, the smile still lingering on his lips, but his eyes hold yours with a quiet intensity. For a brief second, you think you see a flash of something—something raw, something real. But it’s gone just as quickly, replaced by the calm, polite man you’ve always known.

“Shall we?” he asks, gesturing to your plate. “I wouldn’t want your meal to go cold.”

You nod, unable to find your voice, as the tension slowly begins to ease. But even as the conversation shifts back to trivial matters, you can’t shake the image of Taehyung’s eyes—dark, calculating, and for the first time, real.

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shinysobi · 2 months ago

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pretty u

summary: when joshua, your best friend gets engaged, you can't help but feel as though you're missing out on something important. jihoon, your other best friend, kindly offers to set you up with one of his many friends. chaos ensues, seungkwan is an observer who knows everything, and unfortunately, mingyu is a hapless victim.

pairing: woozi x fem!reader

genre: crack, fluff, angst

word count: 10k~ish

warnings: alcohol consumption, general warnings apply

A/N: uhh..hi? this is the first time i've written rpf, and it makes all the more sense for it to be centred around woozi, my svt bias. this has no plot at all, and i just wrote it for fun and vibes...also unbetaed, so if you see any mistakes, no u did not :)) shout out to my twitter gc for cheering me on as i wrote this hehe u guys are the best

a/n 2: reblogs and comments are much appreciated! please tell me if you're liking this lmao

chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3

Chapter 1

Whoever said that every love story is universal, was not lying, unfortunately. Every good love story is a mix of tropes that unfortunately work well together to form a coherent plot. And the longer you read books, the easier it becomes for you to identify (or avoid) these tropes.

The enemies turn into lovers.

The friends turn into lovers.

The inn only has one available bed.

Your brother’s best friend is somehow smoking hot and doesn’t see you as an annoying little sibling anymore.

Your one-night stand is your new boss, and he is inexplicably obsessed with you.

Your parents have forced you into an arranged marriage, and your partner is a. incredibly hot and b. also obsessed with you. You get the gist, so on, and so forth.

All love stories go for a trope that becomes the central conceit of the story, no matter how unique they try to be. The small-town girl/boy falls for the hotshot city lawyer/businessman/vague marketing executive and shows them the importance of family, and of course, of love, because without it, business is notoriously low. People need romance to feel something other than hatred in their already terrible lives, and books offer escapism. Escapism and on some other level, a sense of belonging. You can identify yourself with the girl who falls in love with her brother’s best friend, or the man who has feelings for his sworn enemy, or the person who has, surprise, fallen in love, with their best friend. Or their best friend’s brother. Take your pick.

And unfortunately, as a critic, reading romance implies wading through the countless reiterations of trope-y goodness on offer at every bookstore, and trying to find something that strikes a chord. It is a given, that one has to kiss some proverbial frogs in the meantime, and of course, any professional mishap has to be accompanied with a gossip session with one’s friends, where any complaints you might have about your work, is unloaded onto the brunch table, for my friends to laugh about.

Because at the end of the day, everyone is a character in their own kind of romance novel. A victim of the tropes, if you will. In my case, I am the perpetual single childhood best friend, who puts up with every single antic of the main character. In of course, an enemies-to-lovers romance. Apparently unrequited love sells too, if its written well. If not, then it just becomes one of many repetitive marketing gimmicks that frankly, don’t sit well with anyone, let alone someone like me, who critiques books for a living.

“It’s your attitude that’s a problem.” Jihoon says, taking a sip of his coffee, “you’ve been writing for the newsdesk for years and I have never seen you actually be satisfied with a book. There’s always something that could have been better. Maybe this is why you are so—”

“I am so?” I say, eyes narrowed, “finish that sentence, Jihoon.”

“You want me to?”

“Do you really have to fight every time we meet?”

Both Jihoon and I turn our head to the third person at the table, Joshua. Dressed impeccably in a freshly ironed pair of shirt and trousers, he looks far better than either me or Jihoon, because both of us look as though we have been through botched murder attempts. I am in a hoodie and sweatpants, and Jihoon is somehow worse than me, wearing a pair of shorts and a black t-shirt. His abandoned khaki bomber jacket hangs on the back of his chair, and I cannot believe I’m saying this, but he actually looks worse when wearing the jacket. Joshua looks as though he has been seated at our table by mistake. I’m slightly annoyed by this, but it seems as though Jihoon is more annoyed than me, “what do you mean we fight every time we meet?”

Joshua makes a vague hand gesture, “really? Look at us. You both are dressed as though you’ve been through a typhoon. I feel horribly overdressed.”

“I had a long night.” I reply, “worked overtime at the desk for the Sunday paper.”

“I came here straight from the studio.” Jihoon says, “I didn’t even go home to shower.”

“See, this, this is what I am talking about.” Joshua groans, “both of you dress like homeless people, and then when you come to brunch, you fight all the time. Do you guys never get tired of fighting?”

“Never.” Both Jihoon and I say in unison.

Joshua sighs, before picking up his knife and fork, “I give up. I can never get you two to agree on anything apart from the fact that you guys, apparently, don’t fight.”

“She needs to quit complaining about her job.” Jihoon points his fork at me, “she’s got the cushiest job imaginable, and she manages to complain about it all the time. Every week, she’s here complaining about something at her job.”

“As if you don’t complain about your job all the time too,” I reply, not one to back down from a fight, “you complain about the people at your job all the time as well. And it’s not as though your job is shitty; you literally work at the biggest music corporation in the country—”

“Guys!” Joshua half-yells, and I stop. Everyone is looking at the three of us, and unlike the two of us, he looks embarrassed. “Guys, if you have to fight every time we meet, maybe I suggest we stop this weekly brunch. Jesus—”

“Oh, he swore,” Jihoon whispers, and I giggle, “we finally made him take the Lord’s name in vain.”

“—it’s like you’re kids all over again. This isn’t freshman year of university, for heaven’s sake,” he takes an elegant sip of his coffee, “and for your information, Jesus isn’t the Lord. I’m not letting you guys get the satisfaction of hearing me fucking swear.”

“Does he hear himself?” Jihoon mutters. “I don’t think he does.” I whisper in response.

“Yes, I’m aware I said ‘fuck’, thank you very much.” Joshua sits back in his chair, “I’m proposing to Eunseo tonight.”

“Tonight?” Jihoon yells, bolting upright from his chair, and everyone in the restaurant looks at us, “you’re proposing to her tonight?”

Joshua grabs his hand to drag him back onto his chair, “yes, tonight. Are you stupid? Everyone is looking at us now.” He looks at me, “what do you think about it?”

Oh. Oh.

Remember when I said that my role in a romance novel is that of the eternally-spurned childhood friend? The one who has loved the main character from a distance, never really daring to express their feelings? Well, I’ve not known Joshua since my childhood, we met at high school, and it hasn’t been that long since I discovered that I might have a tiny, the most miniscule of crushes on him. But I’m that trope. The childhood friend who gets spurned, and the main character turns away to the actual love of their life, leaving only a broken heart behind. Too little, too late.

Well, who wouldn’t?

He’s tall, good-looking, gentlemanly, with just the right amount of unhinged, has a good, stable, get-off-at-the-right-time government job, and above all, he’s unflinchingly kind to everyone. Yes, including me and Jihoon, even though we make his life a living hell on most days. Realistically, it was only a moment of time before either Jihoon or I had any feelings for him. And I was betting on Jihoon too. Fuck.

“Are you okay?” Joshua’s voice is soft, insisting, and all I can see when I break out of my reverie is the swoop of his collarbones as they disappear under the shirt, and suddenly I feel very dirty. Not just dirty, but also simply awful. Why am I out here thinking about his collarbones when he’s thinking about how to propose to his girlfriend? His very nice, very beautiful girlfriend?

“I’m fine,” I nod my head, “have you picked out a ring for her?”

“Not yet, but I have a kind of ring in mind already.” He says, turning to Jihoon and starting to talk about the different cuts of diamonds that are present at Tiffany’s, and how they suit different kinds of people. Eunseo, I learn, is partial to a pear cut. Jihoon, the idiot, who can’t shut up when it comes to arguments with me, is unnaturally quiet, only offering comments here and there. It’s very uncharacteristic.

And then he gets that look on his face which is a signal for both me and Jihoon that we are about to hear an hour’s worth of praises of Eunseo, and I step in. Making a vague sign towards my completed plate of fish and chips (not that great, the fish was soggy) I say, “before he begins singing praises of his girlfriend, sorry, fiancé, can we get the check?”

“You keep saying it as though you don’t know how much I love her.” Joshua sounds annoyed but unfortunately, I can see through his mask of fake annoyance, “I already paid.”

“Thank goodness, I forgot my wallet.” Jihoon smiles, “for a moment, I thought I would have to use my online wallet.”

“Aren’t you ashamed?” I elbow him lightly in the ribs, and he doesn’t even flinch. Apparently, music producers these days have to be certified gym rats, or they won’t let them into the building, “you’ve mooched off of Joshua and me for the past twelve years, maybe it’s time to start paying.”

“Maybe I do pay, but I just don’t like you.” Jihoon replies, sarcasm evident in his tone, “so I don’t want to pay for your meal.”

“You little—” I’m about to commit a murder in broad daylight, but Joshua, the sweet angel that he is, stops both of us, waving his card in between like a bullfighting matador.

“You guys just don’t stop, do you?” He grins, evidently thinking about how he’s going to propose to his loving girlfriend this evening. Nauseating. It makes me want to throw up. Because Joshua is not going to wake up one morning and decide that he wants to throw away his living relationship of five years to—to pursue his unfortunate best friend, who has nursed an unfortunate attraction towards him for the past year. That is never going to happen. So, let’s scratch that. That should not happen.

Because apart from being unfairly gorgeous and rich and beautiful and did I mention gorgeous? Eunseo is also unflinchingly nice, the kind of nice that leaves other people wondering if the person in front of them is real or not, or if they have some kind of hidden intentions that border on murderous or at the very least, fraudulent. She’s the one who took me under her wing when I was a freshman and had no friends except the two weird guys in my required sociology class, and thanks to her, at the end of four years of university, I had friends in the journalism club, people I come into contact on occasion such as weddings and the odd reunion.

Her niceness is also the reason why Joshua fell for her at first sight.

“I’m out.” Jihoon picks up the abomination of a bomber jacket from his chair, “and before you ask, no, hyung, I’m not helping you with picking out a ring for your girlfriend. You can do that yourself. Or ask her for help.”

And before Joshua can look at me and before I make a fool out of myself (yet again), I turn away, rejecting his proposal for looking at pear-cut diamond rings on a Sunday morning, “I’m ideologically against the institution of marriage. Do it yourself.”

Joshua sighs, because of course he has anticipated this. The fucker. “cannot believe you’re still on your Dworkin streak. Fine,” he says, getting up from his chair and walking out of the café, “I’ll get Eunseo’s ring myself. And when she asks, I’ll tell her that none of you helped me.”

“Ooh, threatening your girlfriend on us, I’m shaking in my boots,” Jihoon replies, sarcasm evident in his voice, digging through his pockets to get his car keys, “when are you planning to get the ring?”

“Later, in the afternoon,” Joshua is opening the door to his car, and looking at me, “do you want me to give you a ride? Your house is on the way.”

“She only takes buses and the subway,” Jihoon grins, “don’t you remember the time in university when she kept saying about how much she likes welfare policies and transportation benefits?”

“Shut the fuck up,” I reply, elbowing him, harder this time, and Jihoon flinches, “I’ll just go to the office. Jihoon will give me a ride.”

“When did I say that I’ll give you a ride?” Jihoon looks like he wants to begin an argument with me in front of the café, but he acquiesces, “ugh, fine. I’ll give you a ride. Your office is on the way.”

—

“I’m still not convinced that you simply wanted to ‘spend time with me’.” Jihoon grumbles an hour later, seated at his studio and fiddling with his computer. “You’ve been lying there and scrolling twitter for hours now.”

“Your couch is much better than my office chair,” I hum a non-committal reply, before making myself further comfortable into the soft plush material of his couch, “and I’m not scrolling on twitter, I’m trying to find another flat to move into.”

“Lease up?” Jihoon asks, “wasn’t your agreement still valid for at least another few months?”

“I’m just trying to get ahead of the curve,” I reply, “if I start looking from now, maybe I’ll get a better flat by the time the lease is up. My current flat is—”

“A shithole.” Jihoon finishes my sentence for me, “seriously, I don’t know how you manage to live there. And you’ve been holding onto that flat for the past seven years. everyone moved out of their university flats, but you managed to hold onto yours for so long.”

“That’s because it’s a good deal,” I mutter, “ugh, I can’t manage to find a single good deal on any of the flats.”

“Because you’re never satisfied with any deal,” Jihoon replies, “your ideal deal is if everything was free.”

“And I still maintain that housing should not be monetised.”

“Why thank you for that insight, comrade.” Jihoon puts a finger to his mouth, “shut up for a while, I’m trying to concentrate on this song.

“Who’s it for?” I sit up, intrigued, “a new artist?”

“The company’s new girl group.” Jihoon says, “I was asked to produce the title track for their debut. I only have four months on hand, and I still haven’t finished the track. The higher-ups are going to have my head for this.”

“No, they won’t,” I reply, “they like you too much. Speaking of—”

“—if you want me to give you an interview, I won’t, I’ve already told you five times,” Jihoon cuts me off, wheeling his chair away from me, “jeez, you’re tenacious.”

“Oh, but come on, it’ll be fun,” with an extra emphasis on come on, I think I’ve got Jihoon’s attention, “people keep speculating on the kind of person you are. I mean, people know Woozi, but do they know what kind of person he is, underneath all that secrecy? You’ve never given an interview, and you keep avoiding any kind of public appearance. One might think you hate the spotlight.”

“Even if I were to give an interview, I wouldn’t be giving it to you. Who knows how you’re going to spin my words.”

“I’m hurt, Lee Jihoon. This has hurt me.”

Jihoon turns around and blows me a raspberry. I roll my eyes. Is he twenty-eight, or just eight? “whatever you say won’t affect the way I think. I still won’t give you an interview.”

“Just so you know, I’m known to be an excellent interviewer.” I say, walking over to his chair, “come on, Jihoon-ah, give me an interview. Please?”

“No.”

“Pretty please?”

“No.”

“Pwease?”

He turns around at that, fixing me with a stare, “don’t you ever fucking do aegyo in front of me. I’m going to kill you if you do that again.”

“See, if you gave me an interview like I’m asking you to, then I would not have a reason to subject you to aegyo, but as things stand, you really give me nothing else to work with.”

“Ask Joshua for an interview then, if you’re so desperate for one,” the words coming out of anyone else’s mouth would have given me enough reason to walk out of the room, but Jihoon made them sound softer, almost romantic. It was funny, how he managed to change the intonations of every word, changing them to his whims. I suppose that’s what I do with words, and that’s what he does with sounds.

“Joshua is not the elusive Woozi,” I flop back onto the sofa as I counter, trying actively to not think about Joshua picking out a ring at Tiffany’s for Eunseo right at that moment, “he’s an adjunct professor. Not the most interview-friendly of all occupations.”

Jihoon looks at me, and for a moment, I think he’s going to ask me a very uncomfortable and difficult question, but at that moment, both our phones buzz simultaneously. I check the phone, and it’s a single message in the shared chatroom. Joshua has sent a message, a single picture of a pear-shaped diamond solitaire ring (don’t ask me how I know the cut of the diamond) with an attached message;

joshuji: picked up her ring! <3

“Damn, an exclamation point, and an emoji,” Jihoon says, typing out a reply in the chatroom, “our joshuji is entirely too far gone, isn’t he?”

I don’t say anything. Its far easier to pretend that you’re typing out a reply and can’t hear anything, especially when it comes to Jihoon. He’ll take anything in stride.

hoon: wow Eunseo has you whipped

big dick (canon): hey I think it’s cute

Jihoon sets his phone down with an audible clack, and fuck, I’ve messed up. Joshua is oblivious and blissfully happy in his own little life, but Jihoon? The Jihoon that I’ve known ever since our seats were beside each other in the sociology class that made me develop an irrational fear of surveyors? He’s single-minded whenever it comes to pursuing anything. One doesn’t become the most sought-after music producer in the industry with just talent, they need to be dogged in their pursuit of success. And unfortunately, when Lee Jihoon turns his mind to something, he accomplishes it, whether it’s producing a Billboard Hot 100 hit, or, judging by the way he’s looking at me right now, getting words out of my mouth.

“Okay, spill, I’ve seen this go on for long enough,” he says, getting up from the chair and walking over to the sofa, where I am currently hiding behind a throw pillow, “you’ve been weird for months now, and we need to talk about it.”

“We, don’t need to do anything,” I reply, “I’m perfectly fine. If something happened, I would tell you. Or Joshua. Or both of you, at the same time.”

“Like you inform us after every breakup of yours?” Jihoon laughs, “you mean to say you’re going to hold another one of your ‘meetings’ to tell me and Joshua about how some poor bastard made the mistake of trying to date you?”

“I’m actually nice when I date, and I can hold down a relationship for more than two weeks, Mr I-don’t-like-commitment. Tell me, how did your last date go? Did she walk out of the date itself, or did you ghost her?”

Jihoon blinks at me, and then, a slow, catlike smile passes over his features. Fuck.

“You’re being combative today,” he grins, and fuck, its infuriating how predictable I am, and how absolutely incapable I am of not taking his bait, “so, there is something that you’re hiding.”

“Ugh, I hate this.”

“Then you shouldn’t have taken the damn bait,” he replies, “do you want to tell me yourself, or do you want me to guess your little secret?”

“I’m not telling you anything, and its nothing you can suss out either.”

“I can just beat it out of you,” he smiles, flexing his arms, and I belatedly remember that Jihoon, to my disadvantage, had decided at the early age of twenty-one, that he was going to make up for his height by being The Broadest Man on Earth, and now carried a protein shake in his bag everywhere he went, that somehow tasted more disgusting than it looked. He could easily beat me to a pulp. And he would do it too, the little shit.

“Jihoon, remember the time I carried you home when you were drunk?” I don’t know how to do the specific variant of the thing they call ‘puppy eyes’, but I try my absolute best to emulate the little I know, “and you threw up all over my clothes? Remember? It was at Mingyu’s birthday party, and you got drunk on an empty stomach—”

“Don’t fucking do that,” he throws a pillow at me, “fuck, that’s creepy. Also, I got drunk and threw up on your clothes in my second year of university, damn, how long are you going to milk it for?”

“As long as I can,” I reply, “please, Jihoon, just this once.”

“Damn, fine, weirdo,” he stands up, going back to his chair, his back now towards me, “isn’t as though you like Joshua or something.”

I freeze, hoping that the intake of breath at that last sentence hasn’t been heard by Jihoon. I know I’m an atheist, I pray fervently, to whichever god that’s listening, God, Allah, Buddha, Jesus, if anyone’s listening, please, please, please, let Jihoon not notice—

“You like Joshua?”

Fuck.

“No.” I lie brightly, “I just—stubbed my toe on the table.”

Jihoon looks at me in a way that screams bitch, I know you’re a liar so don’t even try. “You know you’re a horrible liar, right?”

“I am?”

He nods, “its one of the many endearing things about you. But unfortunately, you’ve given yourself away now. Really, Joshua? The Joshua Hong we know?”

“Really, it isn’t like that,” I’m sweating, and praying Jihoon doesn’t notice that I’m sweating, “its nothing, and besides, I don’t even like him in that kind of way—”

“Do you want to fuck him?”

I choke on a breath and begin coughing. “What?” I manage to say, after I recover enough to breathe properly, “I don’t want to fuck anyone!”

“Great, because if you wanted to fuck him, it would have become massively awkward.” Jihoon shrugs, “since it’s one of those passing feelings, you can take care of it; it happens all the time. I once had a crush on you too. It’s bound to happen.”

“You had a crush on me?” I screech, “what the fuck, Lee Jihoon, you’re supposed to wait before dropping this kind of information on me!”

“Dude, its long gone,” Jihoon places a hand on my shoulder, a touch that’s meant to be reassuring, but it only suffices to make me angrier, “it was during my military service. I remember that you came with my parents to see me off, and it was—nice. So, I had a crush on you. I got over it when I got out of the military, though. Turns out seeing your best friend live in a hovel really does wonders for your lingering feelings.”

“For eighteen months?” I hold my head in my hands, “you had a crush on me for eighteen months? What the fuck kind of information is that? And you got out of the military three years ago!”

“M-hmm, see, that’s what I mean when I say these feelings will go away.” Jihoon looks sage, as if he’s imparting the secret to life and how to be a good Buddhist, and not bombarding my mind with information I would rather not know, “wait, have you masturbated to Joshua?”

“What the fuck?” I stand up, pacing the room at a speed that would closely rival that of an Olympian, “why would I masturbate to Joshua Hong?”

Jihoon shrugs, “people masturbate. You are a person. Hence the question.”

“Of course, I haven’t masturbated to—wait did you masturbate while thinking of me?” I’m yelling now, yelling and pacing the room like a woman possessed, because of course, Jihoon has made me lose my mind, “Lee Jihoon, did you jerk off to my pictures?”

He shrugs. “What are you going to do if I say yes?”

“I’m going to kill you, and then I’m going to kill myself,” I say, grabbing his shoulders, “you know what, Jihoon, lets do that. Let’s both die.”

“Why would I consent to a murder-suicide with you?” he sounds terribly composed, which again, does not bode well for the numerous murderous thoughts I have currently running through my head, “its just a little masturbation. I was twenty-three, I was bored to tears at the military camp, and I had a crush on you, so, I did what I did.”

“Which was apparently, masturbation.” I flop facedown on the couch, “I want to castrate you, you know that, right?”

“Figures. You’ve always been weird about sex.” Jihoon makes a face, “So, you didn’t tell me. do you want to fuck Joshua or not? Because if you do, then it just means that you want sex. If you don’t, then I can’t help you.”

“How can you help me in any way if I say I want to have sex with Joshua?” I ask, “even if I do, which I don’t, just by the way—”

“You want to jump his bones. Right.”

“—how can you even help me, short of getting me a male prostitute.” I pause, horror spreading through my features, “oh fuck. Jihoon, are you going to hire a gigolo?”

To his credit, Jihoon looks appropriately disgusted, “why would I hire a prostitute? No, I would set you up with one of my friends.”

“Who?”

He thinks for a while, then says, “Soonyoung.”

“No offence, but I’m about 90% convinced that Soonyoung is a furry.”

“Jeonghan-hyung, then.”

“He’s too similar to Joshua,” I groan, “why am I going along with this idea? This is literally the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Then do you want to help yourself?”

“Masturbate to thoughts of Joshua? Yeah, like that’s gonna work.” I hold my head in my hands, “fuck, I have to sleep with Soonyoung, don’t I? I’m half-convinced he will do a tiger impression in bed.”

“I’m fairly convinced he mimics a roar when he orgasms.” Jihoon mutters.

“Oh, fuck, now I have to talk about orgasms with you,” I say, face buried in one of the pillows, “I have to sleep with one of your weird friends and then everyone will know about my crush on Joshua and I’ll be shunned from our three-person group forever and ever—”

“Calm down, no one is going to spill your secrets,” Jihoon says, “and I have other friends too, you know. They don’t talk as much as those idiots, but they are good people.”

“But I don’t want to fuck anyone right now.”

Jihoon stares at me.

“Okay fine, maybe a little bit.” I concede, “but still, not enough to warrant a setting-up. Maybe I’m just sexually frustrated.”

“Then go fuck someone!”

“It isn’t that easy!” I snap, and Jihoon looks surprised, because its so unlike me to be incandescent over something as stupid as this, but I can’t help the shiver of anger running over me, “it isn’t so fucking easy. If it were, I would have gone and slept with a stranger from a bar. Yes, I know it’s dangerous, but I would have done it. But I’m telling you now, its difficult for me to even know if I’m attracted to Joshua, and if my attraction means I want to jump him or whatever.”

“Then what does it mean?” Jihoon, it seems, is also incapable of not reacting to my moods and temper, he gets angry easily sometimes, “What does it mean when you tell me you’re attracted to someone? We’re twenty-eight, for fuck’s sake. What the fuck else do you mean?”

“I don’t know!” I half-yell, half-sob, “I don’t know what I want, and I don’t know if I want to sleep with anyone, least of all Joshua. I’m confused, and I don’t know what to do, and all I want is a little acceptance, not you rattling of a list of people I should sleep with in order to get over my feelings for Joshua—”

“Hey, I’m sorry.”

“—and you can’t even give me that, Jihoon,” I finish lamely, looking at his concerned expression, “yeah fine, I’m leaving.”

The door is loud when I close it behind me. to his credit, Jihoon doesn’t pursue me, because even if he’s abnormally idiotic in matters like these, he’s got some sense.

—

I deeply regret befriending either of them, because both Joshua and Jihoon have apparently no sense of boundaries between people. Joshua keeps assaulting my inbox with messages along the lines of oh look how much I love my girlfriend and how much I can’t wait to see you guys and celebrate my engagement because I’ve got my life sorted out unlike YOU fuckers, and Jihoon has rewarded me with radio silence ever since I blew up in his face about his idiotic idea regarding me having sex with one of his friends.

And, as a testament to my misfortunes in life, Joshua has decided that his proposal to Eunseo must be followed up with a party thrown in her honour, or at least a dinner as per his last text message; which of course, he has to send to the shared chatroom with a variety of threatening and non-threatening messages.

joshuji: just saying if you guys aren’t here for the dinner, I’m never talking to you

hoon: aren’t proposals supposed to be an intimate thing? For couples??? Why are you asking us to be there????

joshuji: Eunseo wanted you guys to celebrate, too

joshuji: also, I’m proposing to her in the afternoon. I’m asking you guys to come over for dinner

hoon: maybe we should ask Eunseo about her feelings?

hoon: idk if she would want two others celebrating her engagement. Maybe we should stage an intervention and try to convince her to leave you. Its not too late already

big dick (canon): idk if I can make it guys

joshuji: I told u I wouldn’t be forgiving you if you don’t attend

hoon: you also tell us that every other week, I think we’ll be fine

joshuji: please?

hoon: don’t you fucking dare

big dick (canon): send us the location. Also, you’re paying

hoon: that’s the least he can do, after inflicting all this on us, and on her

joshuji: don’t worry, dinner is on me. [location attached] be there.

Fuck. Fuck my life, and fuck the two other people also in my life, and also, fuck Eunseo for good measure, because if it hadn’t been for her coming over to the mixer in third year, Joshua would never have fallen head over heels with her at first sight, and he wouldn’t have asked her out, and then I wouldn’t have had to deal with my conflicting feelings in the middle of a random Sunday. In the middle of me contemplating whether to clean my flat or not, too. If you look at it, its all her fault. Her fault for being so flawless and lovely and gorgeous that even I cannot bring myself to be jealous. The woman volunteers her free time at an animal shelter, for god’s sake. She’s the kind of person you write rambling horrible love sonnets about, and inflict them on your best friends after getting drunk and vomiting on a sidewalk at three in the morning. I should know, because that was Joshua when he was twenty-five.

Everything seems to go to shit at the same time, so of course, my landlord has to make an appearance when I’m in the middle of a neurotic episode over whether or not to do my laundry and contemplating hurling myself out of the window. His knocks are rhythmic, three seconds apart, which gives me enough time to prepare with a butcher’s knife in my hand. To ensure my safety, of course, in all my good conscience, I could never murder someone.

“Ah, yes, if it isn’t my favourite tenant,” he smiles, wide enough for me to see the gold tooth he had put in four years ago, “don’t worry, I’m only here for a routine check.”

“I bet you say that to all your tenants, Mr Kim.” I mutter, not moving from the doorway. If this man can sell me a glorified hovel posturing as a flat, I can disrespect him as much as I want. “I’ll get back to you on the renewal on my lease as soon as possible.”

The nosy bastard (man) that he is, Mr Kim cranes his neck around me to take a look inside my flat, “don’t worry, you’ve been one of my longest-running tenants for a while, you can take your time.” Then he looks at me, and the gold tooth is again on display. Ugh, I fucking hate it, “Is there a man inside? Boyfriend?”

“I don’t know why I’m saying this to you, Mr Kim, but I don’t have a boyfriend.” I reply, suppressing my urge to bury the knife held in my hand in his chest, “I was cooking, if you want to know that badly.”

“No boyfriend?” he tuts at me as though my dating life (or its lack thereof) is a personal slight against him, “but there are men coming over to your house all the time?”

“Those are my friends, Mr Kim,” I grit out, fake smile getting more brittle by the second, “men and women can be friends, you know.”

“Ah yes, I know, I know,” he nods, before clapping his hands like he’s received some sort of epiphany, “I forgot to tell you, but if you do decide to renew,” here he takes a deep breath, as if he’s bestowing upon me some great honour, “the rent will be raised. By twenty.”

“Twenty percent?” I screech, and the student in the flat next to me has probably heard it, “is that even legal?”

From the smile on his face, I don’t have to hear anything else. It probably is.

Mr Kim goes away from my line of sight (my kitchen knife’s line of attack) with another, equally insufferable, smile, and I close the door with a loud enough bang that the hinges rattle. I lied to Jihoon, because I only have two months left on my contract, and I still have had no luck in finding a new flat to move into. Everywhere I go, its either overpriced, or the facilities are too shitty, or the vibes are off.

Back in the room, I try to busy myself with laundry, when my phone rings. Its Jihoon, who’s apparently decided that making me angry is a full-time job for him. He’s making use of the private chat, which is rare for him, and somehow, equally annoying for me.

hoon: sorry about what happened in the studio this morning

hoon: offer still stands though

big dick (canon): that’s not how you apologise to someone

hoon: what? I’m trying to help my bestie get some

hoon: is that such a scandalous thing to ask for

big dick (canon): yes. Yes, it is

big dick (canon): also, fyi, I’m not sleeping with any of your friends. They’re all too weird for me

hoon: Mingyu? I remember you saying once that you’d motorboat him

big dick (canon): platonically

hoon: not sure how you’d motorboat someone platonically

big dick (canon): he’s too outgoing for me. cannot imagine I’d ever have a moment to myself if I ever dated him

hoon: Wonwoo? Everyone liked him back in university

big dick (canon): unfortunately, all he seems to talk about is gaming. I don’t mind gaming once or twice, but talking about it all the time? That bores me

hoon: Chan? He’s younger than you, but you could be a cougar, for all I know

big dick (canon): I’ve seen Jeonghan beg on his knees for him to go home after a drinking session

hoon: Minghao?

big dick (canon): He once teased me for my curtain bangs for a week straight

hoon: fine then, Cheol?

big dick (canon): Too competitive

hoon: Seungkwan?

big dick (canon): Too athletic. Also, isn’t he joining the culture desk soon?

hoon: Seokmin?

big dick (canon): Too outgoing

hoon: Vernon?

big dick (canon): Too quiet

hoon: Jun?

big dick (canon): Too weird

hoon: Jesus, fuck, woman, what kind of person do you want to date?

big dick (canon): ykw, just set me up with Mingyu. If nothing I can still get to say I motorboated some great pecs

big dick (canon): seriously, his pecs are bigger than my boobs

big dick (canon): how does he do it

big dick (canon): can I hold them

big dick (canon): respectfully

big dick (canon): in a non-sexual way

big dick (canon): please

hoon: I’m sure he’s going to appreciate that

big dick (canon): please ask him

big dick (canon): how does one get that kind of pectoral muscles

big dick (canon): wow

hoon: my pecs are bigger than his

big dick (canon): is this some new sort of dick-measuring contest idk yet

big dick (canon): if it is

big dick (canon): you’re losing

big dick (canon): I need to take a bite from his tits

big dick (canon): One

big dick (canon): Teensy tiny

big dick (canon): Munch

hoon: I’m so close to blocking u

big dick (canon): They hated Jesus because he spoke the truth

hoon: maybe you need to consider that Jesus had very bad vibes

hoon: so, you want to go on a date with Mingyu?

hoon: I feel like I should tell you that he eats the equivalent of three people

hoon: at the same time

big dick (canon): As long as he lets me motorboat him

big dick (canon): I don’t care

big dick (canon): He can eat as much as he wants

hoon: why must you be so horny over Mingyu of all people

hoon: he’s not even that attractive

hoon: and I’ve got bigger pecs than him

big dick (canon): congratulations on having bigger pecs, but I’m still gonna motorboat Mingyu

big dick (canon): going to gently hold his tits

hoon: between you going feral and Joshua badgering me about his engagement party dinner

hoon: I can’t help but feel as though both of u are out to make me go insane

big dick (canon): are you gonna go to that?

hoon: he’s already made plans at the barbecue place where we go to

hoon: even got a whole discount coupon and everything

hoon: normally I’d be upset that he’s being cheap, but after researching the price of that ring, I’m prepared to forgive him this once

hoon: next time I’m forcing him to take us out to a good dinner place

big dick (canon): are you planning to spend all his salary

big dick (canon): I’m in

big dick (canon): Ugh I haven’t eaten anything since the morning

big dick (canon): Can you ask Mingyu to bring me food

hoon: you’re incorrigible

hoon: have you been able to maintain eye contact with him?

big dick (canon): UNFAIR

big dick (canon): You know I can only do that with you

big dick (canon): Since you’re exactly my height

big dick (canon): Hehe

hoon: I’m blocking u and this number right NEOW

hoon: cannot believe I’m conversing WILLINGLY with someone who slanders my height

big dick (canon): see u at the barbecue place tonight

big dick (canon): have fun on the song

hoon: I’m trying to finish it

hoon: cannot believe I’ve gone into a slump

big dick (canon): you know how this can be cured?

big dick (canon): An INTERVIEW

big dick (canon): With yours truly

big dick (canon): Please

hoon: ask someone else

hoon: Soonyoung

big dick (canon): he’s an idol, yes but

big dick (canon): I’m terrified he’s going to do at least three tiger impressions

hoon: wrong, he’s going to do at least five

hoon: ugh gotta go

hoon: see u at the dinner

I stare at the dark phone screen for about five minutes after I’ve finished texting Jihoon. His interest in setting me up with one of his friends aside, he’s not wrong. I’m sexually frustrated, which means I’m just projecting my desires onto the closest available person, which in this case, happens to be Joshua.

Okay, fair enough, then why not anyone else? The people at my workplace aren’t that bad, and some of them are fairly good-looking, so why not them?

As soon as that thought comes into my mind, I shake it away violently. To willingly date someone in the workplace is inviting a whole host of problems, HR notwithstanding. And to imagine the fallout when I eventually break up with them, while still having to work with them in the same office—no, I’d rather take a transfer. The only option that remains are Jihoon’s friends, and while they’re all nice, they can also be terrifying, and therefore, not the best options for dating. Or sleeping around, which is what Jihoon wants me to do.

“Ugh, why do I have to have these feelings,” I moan into my pillow. It would have been great if I were born as an amoeba. Or as a plant. No need for my feelings to take centre stage, no need to maintain friendships with annoying people like Jihoon or Joshua. Just peaceful photosynthesis, and being eaten by a random goat on a random Tuesday. I wouldn’t even need to go to university. Nothing required. Just basking in the sun.

And unfortunately, because my mind is a little traitor, it focuses on the one thing that I don’t want to focus on: Jihoon’s offhand comment about his pecs being bigger than Mingyu’s; which, if I know Jihoon as well as I do, is a blatant lie, but even the thought of it is enough to send me into a downward spiral. What the hell does he mean, he has bigger pecs than Mingyu? Its not as if I want to see them, and let this be known, and made into public record, that I’ve never once wanted to see Jihoon’s pecs.

But.

Of course, its not as if I haven’t thought about it. not as far as Jihoon, who apparently masturbated to the thought of me, but of course I have idly wondered, what it would be like. When he came back from the military, its all I could think about for a couple days, before I had to physically slap myself back into reality. Unfortunately for me, his one petty comment about the size of his pectoral muscles, threatens to throw me back into the pits of desperation yet again.

Ugh. I slam my face into the pile of fresh laundry, hoping for it to soothe my nerves. Spoiler alert, it doesn’t.

Its at that moment that the chatroom pings again, this time with a message from Joshua.

joshuji: SHE SAID YES!!!!

hoon: congratulations!

big dick (canon): Congratulations!!!

—

The barbecue place is good enough for us, but for a dinner celebrating Joshua’s engagement to Eunseo, it seems a little too shabby. Although given the amount of money he’s spent on an engagement ring (I saw the prices, and I had to stifle a gasp) it can be forgiven. Just this once, as Jihoon said.

I’ve come here late, on purpose. Between the excited texts from Eunseo, who texted me a picture of her ring, and I had to act appropriately surprised, and Joshua’s infamous enthusiasm for a. showing the world how much he loves his girlfriend and b. to torment his friends, I’m feeling drained. I’m dressed for a night of eating greasy food and drinking cheap alcohol: a hoodie borrowed (stolen) from either Jihoon or Joshua, and jeans. I can’t even lie to myself and give myself a reason to dress up, because even I can’t delude myself into doing that. Jihoon once saw me with day-old vomit on my shirt, and Joshua has seen me dress in my sleepwear for exams week.

The place is filled with smoke, emanating from the meat being cooked on the grills, and it takes me a moment to adjust myself to it all, before I look for the other three. They have all arrived, and according to Jihoon, who’s sent a message out of his own accord on the chatroom in a long time, they’re all eating lots of beef.

“You’re late,” Jihoon grumbles as I approach the table, “I had to sit through half an hour of these two being happy and in love.”

“You’re a liar,” I say, sliding into the seat next to him, “you enjoy romance movies.”

“Wow, that’s something I didn’t know about him,” Joshua says, with a twinkle in his eyes that I don’t want to decode, “how come you know everything about Jihoon?”

“Occupational hazard,” I reply, reaching for a piece of meat, “every time you bailed on us to go on a date with Eunseo, Jihoon and I would be forced to hang out together.”

“It was horrible,” Jihoon agrees, “she’d force me to watch all these romance movies.”

“Says the man who cried while watching Love Actually.”

Eunseo giggles at that, almost doubling over herself. I narrow my eyes at Joshua, “have you both been drinking since the afternoon?”

“No, no, I haven’t,” Eunseo wheezes, and it’s unfair how gorgeous she is while laughing, too. She’s wearing an apron to prevent grease falling on her expensive clothes, and she’s still gorgeous. I snort when I laugh, and once Jihoon saw me with mango juice coming out of my nose, “it’s just funny.”

“What is?”

She points at the two of us, “you know, the both of you keep talking about how annoying you find each other, and yet you’re both closer to each other than anyone else. It’s just so funny to me.”

“Joshua,” Jihoon says, very seriously, “I think your fiancée has been taking drugs.”

“At the very least, she’s insane,” I supply helpfully, “no one in their right minds would date Joshua. Not to mention agreeing to marry him.”

Joshua puts an arm around Eunseo, “stop slandering my fiancée.”

Jihoon puts a piece of meat into his mouth, trying to change the topic, “have I mentioned I’m helping her hook up with someone?”

I cough violently, while Eunseo and Joshua wear twin expressions of confusion. “Wait, Jihoon,” Joshua says, “I thought you—”

“I told you not to talk about that!” I wail, a noise that’s fortunately covered by all the meat-grilling around me, “no, I’m not going to hook up with any of your friends. Jihoon has terrible taste in people, not to mention that all your friends aren’t exactly hook-up material.”

“You take that back,” he gasps, “weren’t you talking about how you’d like to motorboat Mingyu?”

“That was platonically!”

“I’m sorry,” Joshua interjects, looking at me as though I’ve sprouted another head, “how can you, and I’m just going off on a limb here, motorboat someone platonically?”

“That’s what I said,” Jihoon grumbles, “she keeps asking me to set them up once.”

“That’s because he’s the hottest out of all your friends.” The soju is bitter as I drink it, “if I have to engage in a night of mindless sex, might as well do it with the hottest guy around.”

“Knew it,” Jihoon wags one of his fingers at me, “knew you only wanted Mingyu for his body. How dare you do that to my friend.”

“You once stole his socks.”

“Once.”

“For a whole semester.”

“Fair enough.”

“Both of you,” Joshua says loud enough for us to stop bickering, “explain it to us properly. What do you mean you’re helping her hook up with one of our friends? And why are you letting him hook you up with one of our friends?”

I shrug, “It’s not a big deal. Besides, you heard us. It’s only going to be one time.”

“Do I need to give you the talk?”

Jihoon laughs, “you do realise she’s an adult?”

“I’m not saying she can’t do anything; I’m just saying she needs to be careful!

“If I have to be careful around the rest of the guys, then maybe you shouldn’t be friends with them.”

“What do you mean she should be careful around the people who have known her for so long?”

“All of you!” Eunseo claps her hands, and like kindergarten children, we all turn to look at her, sheepish, “Josh,” she turns to the man in question, who looks sufficiently contrite, “let me have a word.”

As they leave, Jihoon pulls a face. “asshole.”

I take another shot of the soju, “he’s just looking out for me.”

“Then he shouldn’t be so overbearing about it.” Jihoon takes a look at me downing another shot, “should you be drinking this fast?”

“Don’t you start.” I say, shaking my head, “I’m going to drink enough to wipe out Joshua’s bank account.”

Jihoon says nothing, just looks at me, and then, after ten seconds, “do you want to do it?”

“Do what?”

“The date. With Mingyu.”

Maybe its just the alcohol getting to my head, or maybe its all this smoke, but his voice seems different. Is he concerned, or is he joking, as per usual? It’s confusing. Should I blame the alcohol? That seems easier, given how it’s getting to my head. “I don’t know.”

“He’s not that bad, you know. He’s a good listener, and if you want him to shut up, he will. He’s great that way.”

I stare at him. Jihoon has a strange look on his face, one that I can’t really place. Alcohol. Yes. Blame it on the alcohol. I take another shot, but before I can form a reply to him, Eunseo and Joshua are walking back to the table, hand-in-hand, identical smiles on their faces. As soon as it had come, the look in Jihoon’s eyes is gone, replaced by the usual, blasé attitude he has perfected.

“Sorry for being late,” Eunseo breezes as she settles into the table, “Joshua needed to be reminded of adult boundaries.”

“I’m sorry.” Joshua offers by way of an apology, “I overstepped.”

“Damn right you did.” Jihoon mutters.

“Apology accepted,” I smile, picking up a piece of meat, “can you order some more?”

—

Mondays are, unfortunately, the worst. Especially if one spent their Sunday evening drinking enough alcohol to lose half their memories. I slide into my seat at work, yawning as I inspect the things I have to finish working on before the end of the day.

“Morning, sunbae,” a cheery voice says, placing a cup of coffee on my desk, “you look like shit.”

“Not the time, Seungkwan,” I mutter, pressing two fingers to my forehead, “too loud, too loud.”

“Heard you got shitfaced with Jihoon and the others last night,” Seungkwan says louder, “Jihoon texted the chat with the others at two in the morning, saying how he was going to take you home.”

“He did?” thankfully, I have no recollection of this happening, so I just let him fill me in on the details, “all I remember is drinking too much at the barbecue place.”

“Celebrating Joshua’s engagement, right?” Seungkwan’s smile is irritating, and I hate how cheery he is in the morning, “he texted about that, too. The pear-cut diamond was, oof, it was something to see.”

“Why do you know about diamond cuts?”

“I grew up with sisters,” he shrugs, as if growing up with sisters imbued one with all the hidden knowledge of womankind, including, but not limited to, engagement ring diamonds and their specific cuts, “you pick up stuff from listening.”

“Jihoon told you all he took me home?” I ask, “he doesn’t usually say that kind of stuff.”

“You got especially drunk last night, so he made an exception for you.” Seungkwan grins, leaning in, “what do you think about Jihoon?”

“He’s a pain in my ass.” I mutter, switching on my computer, “also, go back to work, Seungkwan. You’re not even supposed to be here until next week!”

“Yoo-min quit, so they asked me to join a week early,” he gives me a grin that again, I try not to decode (what is it with all these men and their mysterious grins?) before settling down into the seat next to me, and promptly jumping up to subject me to a ninety-degree bow, “Boo Seungkwan, at your service!”

“Ugh,” I wince, waving at him, “sit down, for the love of god, no one needs to be that loud in the mornings.”

“You are my senior, as it happens, and I’m very keen on maintaining proper relations.”

“Get me one of those hangover cures.”

“I like the American style.”

—

To no one’s surprise, Seungkwan is a very competent worker. He’s a social butterfly, which means that he quickly endears himself to everyone at work, and by the time lunch rolls around, I have to hear praises of Seungkwan from everyone. It’s terrifying, how competent he is.

Being one of the associate editors, means I have to mostly edit the articles sent in by the reporters on ground, not to mention I get to pick and choose which issue I want to cover. I maintain as much of my professionalism as I can, while having a raging headache.

“Sunbae,” Seungkwan approaches me right before lunch, “will you be going out to cover an article?”

“I have an interview with an author after lunch, so not yet,” I reply, putting the finishing touches on a report sent in by one of our field staff, on some celebrity’s rash driving case, “I have some time.”

“Do you want to have lunch with the rest of us?” he asks, gesturing the group of five waiting behind him, “we’re going to have naengmyeon at the place down the block.”

“I have enough sense to not butt into the affairs of my juniors, Seungkwan,” I say, standing up from my chair, “here, have the card. Since its your first day here, the office should treat you.”

Seungkwan takes the offered card with a bow, and smiles brightly, “oh, but the editor said we’re having a company dinner tonight? Won’t you be joining us for that?”

“A group dinner?” I ask, and the group behind him nods their head, all in unison. It makes them look like little bobbleheads, for some reason. “Sure, I’ll join in.”

“Yes!” he seems unusually cheerful about the company dinner, which in my own experience is nothing but a pain that I had to accustom myself with when I joined the paper, “see you tonight, sunbae!”

“This kid,” I groan, picking up my coat. The prospect of lunch makes my stomach turn, and now I have to contend with dinner?

I text Jihoon while walking out of the offices. Joshua is busy with his new fiancée, and Jihoon’s building is far closer to mine that it is to Joshua’s place of work.

big dick (canon): Are u free

big dick (canon): For lunch

Unless Jihoon texts first, he takes an hour to respond at best, but as soon as I send the message, he’s typing a reply.

hoon: lunch?

hoon: if it isn’t lunch I’m killing u

hoon: dude I’ve never had a block this bad I think I’m going to go crazy

hoon: not to mention the hangover from last night is crazy

big dick (canon): it is for lunch, you idiot, why would I text u otherwise

big dick (canon): and I can agree on that, my head is killing me

hoon: is hangover soup cool with u

hoon: I know a good place

hoon: meet u at the front of your building in five

hoon: please tell me all the details about Seungkwan

“He took five minutes to get the editor to warm up to him?” Jihoon cackles, as the lady serves us two steaming bowls of seollongtang, “of course, it’s Seungkwan. He can make anyone warm up to him in minutes.”

“I fear he takes it as a challenge.” I say, spooning the milky broth into my mouth, “ah! Its hot!”

“Why can’t you just wait for a while, before eating your food?” Jihoon pours me a glass of water, “did you die of starvation in your previous life?”

“I don’t believe in that.”

“Yes, yes, Miss Atheist. Tell me what else our little dongsaeng get up to in the meantime.”

“He’s not been given a lot of work, given that it’s his first day,” I take another, more tentative sip of the broth, “but unfortunately, I’ve got to attend another company dinner tomorrow night.”

“Another company dinner? Haven’t you gone through enough pain to consider drinking again, what, barely twenty-four hours later?”

“Twenty-fours is pushing it,” I say, wincing at the sound of my own voice, “ugh, this damn hangover. I can’t even function. Let’s just eat in silence.”

“You want a cider?” Jihoon asks, looking around for the owner to ask for two cans of cider, but the owner is faster than him, setting down two cans of soda in front of us with a smile on her face.

“Your boyfriend is very caring.” She tells me, “its so nice to see someone taking care of their girlfriend so well. The sodas are on the house, okay?”

“Oh, but he’s not—” even before I’ve finished my sentence, she’s gone again, tending to her other customers. Jihoon opens one of the cans for me without saying a word.

“We should stop coming here.” I say, accepting the can from him, “why would anyone think that we’re a couple?”

“They can’t accept that men and women can just be friends, that’s why.”

“Too bad the food is great.”

Jihoon pauses for a moment, then a slow, sly smile spreads all over his face. I know that look. That look does not bode well for me, or for anyone else involved. The first time I saw Jihoon have that look on his face, Seungcheol embarrassed himself so badly in front of a group of first-year students, he refused to come out to any events where Jihoon was invited, for almost a month. This look means that he’s got some sort of evil plan in his mind, one that involves another person and their total embarrassment. He takes a look around the restaurant, and sits up straight. The words that come out of his mouth next, however—

“Babe,” Jihoon says, loud enough for half the restaurant to hear, “don’t you think this place is great?”

What the fuck?

“Jihoon, what are you doing?” my voice is a whisper, “they’re all looking at us!”

“That’s the point.” He whispers, before smiling, “you should say something too, you know. Make the whole thing more believable.”

“I don’t want to!”

“They gave us free sodas; they deserve a special performance at least.” He points to the owner, who looks like she’s about to break her face from smiling so damn broad, “sorry, my girlfriend is a very shy.”

“Oh,” the lady waves it away, “anyone can see you are in love!”

In the end, when Jihoon is paying for our lunches, she takes a final look at the two of us, and croons, “you two make a lovely couple!”

“What the fuck was that?” I turn on Jihoon as soon as we are safely out of the restaurant and far enough for anyone to eavesdrop, “Why the hell would you tell her that we’re dating?”

“Thought you needed a pick-me-up,” Jihoon grins, “at least I got you to stop worrying about things so much.”

“There are better ways of going about that than telling unsuspecting diner owners that we are dating!”

“It was funny, you have to admit,” he smiles, and I have to begrudgingly agree, “see, told you we’d make a cute couple.”

I would rather die than tell Jihoon that I agree with him on anything, so I keep quiet. Thing is; it was rather funny. Especially with how the owner reacted to us.

“And later on,” Jihoon says, holding on to my arm as we cross the road, “when you come to this place with someone else, you can just tell her that we broke up.”

“You need to stop talking about how I’m going to start dating other people.” I mutter, “just because I’ve got some frustrations I need to work out, doesn’t mean I’m going to go running into the arms of whoever it is who offers first.”

“Careful with that,” he says, standing at the crossroads where he’s supposed to walk towards his building, “you might end up regretting it.”

And with a single wave, he’s gone. I stand for about five minutes, like an idiot, while the busy crowd walks past me, trying to decode his words. Why would I regret my decision to not date someone just because I need to get over myself? Not to mention Jihoon has been behaving strangely since the previous night.

“Sunbae,” Seungkwan materialises next to me, “penny for your thoughts?”

“Jesus!” I narrowly escape jumping three feet into the air, “give a girl a warning!”

“I did call out,” he pouts. Its disconcerting how adorable he is. “You were pretty engrossed in looking into the distance to even notice my presence.”

“Are you upset?”

Seungkwan smiles, “if you agree to a badminton match with me over the weekend, I’ll overlook this slight.”

I sigh. “You drive a hard bargain,” I say, making my way into the building, “see you at the dinner, then.”

—

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