#next chapter already on wattpad | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

isuckatwritingsobenice · 1 year ago

Text

Infernal Shadows 03

Synopsis: Being one of the most powerful overlords in Hell, you like to keep up with colonies and overlord plans. Recently with the new extermination date out, you hold your annual gala sooner than usual. You hadn’t expected to get in the middle of the already heated feud between the Radio Demon and the head of Vox Tech.

Warnings: She/Her pronouns used for the reader, mentions of blood, voodoo?, Angel Dust being a horn-bag, Reader is referred too as Madame to the public. Vox and Alastor feud because I live for it. Carmilla and Velvet feud because I also live for that. I also really favor Zestial for some reason as a calm mediator.

Song for this chapter: Ludwig van Beethoven’s Violin Concerto in D major, Op. 61

A/N: Thank you all so much for your positive feedback & feedback in general on the last two posts!! I really didn’t think this would catch so much attention but I’m so glad people like it. For some reason Tumblr’s being weird and doesn’t want to let me tag certain people, I don’t know why but if anyone does please let me know because I really don’t like that ;/ But I hope you all enjoy this chapter!! Please note that some blogs cannot be tagged, so I recommend checking this post and to check your settings to make sure I can tag you! If anything I can always just message you when the next chapter comes out, and yes I am making this series longer :) it’ll also be posted on my Wattpad soon!

Word count: 3890

Taglist: @dollops-of-delusion @nebusokuxp @scrunchss @rosedasy @valluvz @chesstras @pishybowl @iaaeav @forgotten-blues @22carolina08 @roboticsuccubus83 @doflamingadonquixote @froggyferrets @frompeach @absurd-ash @sillysillyxinnabun @urdariingdoll @delectableworm @immahuman @justaproudslytherpuff @local-mr-frog @angeli-fucking-cat @coldsweetsenthusiast @jadekomaeda @iaaeav @coffeethoughtsandanxiety @lunalixya @pretty-puppy-stuffies @lemonrolls @asimplikeallyall @lunalixya

Navigation!! // Masterlist!!! // Serendipity Writes (event) // Part One. // Part two. // Part four.

Engaging with guests throughout the night had become an exhausting endeavor, and a part of you yearned for the solace of your absence. Nevertheless, you maintained the façade, acknowledging every sinner whose smile dripped with crimson mischief. Having greeted each guest, you discreetly slipped into a shadowed corner, your shadows enveloping your figure quickly, seamlessly disappearing from the expansive room in mere seconds and emerging into an intimate gazebo outside, meticulously arranged beneath the sweeping branches of a weeping willow, you marveled at its unique ambiance. Unlike the earthly counterparts that stood white, the willow in your realm bore a deep crimson hue, its leaves adorned with a subtle, luminous sheen. A gentle smile graced your lips as you leaned against the sturdy black iron railing, delicately cradling a piece of the weeping willow between your fingertips. In the distance, the grand mansion hosting the gala loomed, its opulence contrasting with the simplicity of your secluded retreat. Despite the awareness of etiquette dictating against leaving guests unattended, the need for a mental break led you to this haven, a safe space for you. Reflecting, you acknowledged a desire for better preparation and rehearsal with the shadows, realizing the repetitiveness of conversations with the familiar sinners had rendered the night somewhat lackluster. It almost felt like you had come out of hiding for nothing. Quite the disappointment.

You sigh, massaging your temples, the lace fabric on your fingertips only slightly soothing the growing headache. However, not too far behind, you hear the sound of soft grass. You straighten up and turn around, seeing none other than your long time friend Zestial, who just smiled, nodding at you.

“Why art thou out here all alone on this crimson night?” Zestial inquired, standing by your side with his back against the railing. You resumed your original position, taking a moment to appreciate his father. Mentally noting how much of your grandfather Zestial reminded you of, you kept the sentiment unspoken.

Tonight, Zestial adorned himself in an outfit resonant with his time period, preserving his distinctive color scheme. A dark, meticulously tailored coat with lime green accents draped over his slender frame, capturing the essence of his demonic class. The cloak, adorned with lime green spider webs, unveiled a mesmerizing display when unfurled—his lime green eyes radiating, the upper pair embellished with vivid red irises. Instead of the customary big top hat, Zestial selected a smaller, more appropriate hat with a touch of flair. Dark as the shadows you command, it featured a light grey patch at the front and was finished with a grey-colored skull and a lime green and red-striped feather on the right side, adding a distinctive touch that mirrored his nature.

“Why art thou out here all alone on this crimson night?” Zestial repeated, shifting toward you a bit. Yet you resumed your original position, savoring the quiet ambiance before finally answering him. “What shall we discourse upon during our repast this eventide?” Zestial asked. Though his wording occasionally posed a challenge for others, having grown up in a family of eloquent speakers, you easily deciphered his intent. Something he truly appreciated. Though he was learning to speak more ‘modern’, or as modern as he could be.

“Quite unsure of that. Everything is changing, and I fear I might be left behind,” you expressed bluntly. Zestial sighed in response, a mix of understanding and concern evident in his lime green eyes.

“Madame, thou art timeless,” Zestial said with a bow, his cup proofing into smoke. “I pray thee, vex not thyself o’er so trivial a matter,” he added, his words resonating with both reassurance and genuine care.

You nodded, handing him a card. His surprised expression upon finding two cards instead of one didn’t escape you. “What manner of thing is this?” Zestial inquired, prompting you to summon a shadow for yourself, knowing he would find his own means back to the Gala.

“Carmilla. I am no fool to the both of you,” you said, amusement coloring your words as Zestial shook his head.

“Thou dost astonish me on every occasion,” Zestial remarked, standing by your side as you walked into your portal. Two seats vanished, leaving four empty seats at your table and six occupied.

In your study, you floated scripts in front of you, checking off names on the table list for tonight. With a few overlords left to choose from, Alastor and Charlotte secured seats based on trust and connections. Vox, Zestial, and Carmilla, an unspoken but potent couple, promised intrigue. Reconsidering Velvet for her potential devolution, you weighed each decision with strategic acumen.

Valentino, the Von Eldritch twins, and other weaker options were dismissed, maintaining a careful balance of power and influence. As you weigh the option of inviting Rosie to the gathering, her unpredictable nature adds a layer of excitement and potential surprise to the upcoming discussions. However, this unpredictability could also introduce challenges, creating an air of uncertainty around her contributions. Hopefully with Alastor around, she’d feel more inclined to behave. You check her name off the list.

In considering Stolas, the Goetia prince, his personal issues and tarnished reputation pose significant hurdles. Divorcing from his wife, sleeping with an imp for fun, as well as losing control of his daughter on Earth, it all seemed too risky to get involved with. While his wisdom and influence could contribute positively, the shadows of his struggles may complicate the dynamics, stirring potential conflicts and requiring delicate handling. Someone might get out of line with a comment towards him. His power was incredibly useful, but not worth the risk.

Husk’s transformation from a former overlord to a bartender signals a decline in power and status. While his laid-back demeanor might bring a sense of unpredictability, his diminished influence raises questions about the relevance of his involvement in the current political landscape of hell. Though he was your friend, you needed to keep your reputation pristine.

As the you contemplate the overlords assets, a mix of excitement, caution, and uncertainty envelops the decision-making process. Each overlord’s potential positive contributions are balanced by the looming negatives.

“Madame?” One of your shadows materialized, prompting a nod for them to proceed. “There seems to be some trouble in the lobby between the guests. What would you like us to do?” it inquired. A grimace crossed your face, hoping the disturbance wouldn’t mar your night. “Let me handle it,” you declared, snapping your fingers, causing the script to vanish. The shadow nodded, blending back into a wall for you to step through.

Upon reappearing, you assumed the form of a taller shadow. The room surrounded by guests revealed Vox, Velvet, Alastor, and Carmilla standing in the middle. Zestial, seemingly composed, stood close behind Carmilla, observing the situation. Carmilla appeared visibly upset, with Velvet in proximity, a pointed finger dropping as soon as she noticed your arrival. Alastor maintained his usual wide smile, though it bordered on the eerie, revealing a glimpse of his gums. The scene unfolded, presenting a potential challenge to the serene atmosphere you aimed to maintain during the gala.

Everyone seemed to stop, slowly turning toward you to see your face. Except there was no expression, just the large shadow you had taken form of. In seconds the shadow disappeared, leaving you in the fog, the expression on your face anything but calm.

"Madame I-" Velvet began, but her words were halted by the sight of your lace glove, your hand rising to silence her. Approaching the overlords, you spoke with an air of cold authority.

"My quarters. Now," you commanded, and with a snap of your fingers, smoke enveloped your spot as you vanished. Shadows materialized around the overlords, guiding them to your quarters, leaving the stunned guests in the lobby.

"Well, that was interesting," Valentino remarked.

In your study, the overlords found you seated in your tall, black chair. Its ebony surface featured intricate carvings of black glass, elegant swirls, and patterns tailored to your essence, creating an atmosphere of undeniable authority and refinement.

"I hope you all had fun acting like children," you chided sternly. The overlords lined up, forming a unified front. Leaning against the right side of your chair, you crossed your legs, elbow on the armrest, pinching the bridge of your nose with a sigh. Annoyance laced your words as you questioned, "What did you feel the need to argue about now?" Before Velvet, Vox, and Carmilla could respond simultaneously, you halted them. "One at a time. I'd assume you all handle this like adults, if you even can." The tension in the room hung thick as the overlords awaited their turn to address your inquiry.

“She wants me at her table Vaggie! Me!” Charlotte said excitedly. Vagatha just smiled.

“That’s good! Now you can tell them about the hotel, and maybe someone will be interested.” Vagatha said, and Charlotte just nodded.

“Maybe they-“ Charlotte stopped, observing as people began to crowd around the center of the lobby. Charlotte and Vagatha stood from their spots at the bar to walk toward the center, where the overlords stood. Velvet and Vox were next to each other, while Carmilla, Alastor and Zestial were across. Carmilla and Velvet were face to face. “What’s going on?” Charlotte asked as Vagatha and her pushed their way through the crowds of people.

“Come on, Carmilla, always the mood-killer,” Velvet scoffed, a disrespectful tone tainting her words. Carmilla shot her a stern look, ready to assert her authority.

“Watch that tongue, Velvet. I will not let your insolence slide,” Carmilla retorted, attempting to rein in the escalating tension.

Vox, ever the smooth talker, chimed in, “Ladies, ladies, let’s not turn this into a drama fest. We’re all here for a reason.” Vox said, sternly giving a tight lipped smile to Velvet, silently telling her to keep her shit together.

Carmilla shot a glare at Velvet, who replied with a defiant smirk, “Drama or not, Vox, some of us aren’t here for the ballroom charm.”

Alastor, drawn to the brewing chaos, couldn’t resist adding his flair, “Well, well, a bit of spice never hurt a party, does it?”

Carmilla, unfazed by the chaos, spoke with a calm authority, “Velvet, your insolence is unnecessary. This is not a playground; it’s a gathering of overlords. Act accordingly.”

Velvet, seemingly undeterred, shot back with a dismissive laugh, “Poor Grandma, always trying to play the responsible one. Maybe loosen up a bit? Have a drink will you?”

Vox, ever the smooth talker, added with a slick comment, “Perhaps we can focus on the matters at hand. Save the theatrics for later ladies.”

Alastor, intrigued by the unfolding drama, simply grinned, “Oh the picture box has spoken! Quite intriguing.” The room continued to buzz with tension as each overlord, except Rosie, added their own flavor to the brewing turmoil. As the tension thickened, Vox, with a sly grin, couldn't resist adding his own slick comment to the mix.

"Ah, Alastor, the radio days were quaint, but it seems you're a bit outdated. Television is the future, perhaps you should tune in sometime," he quipped with a wink, the words delivered with a calculated smoothness. The room momentarily hung in a charged silence before the verbal sparring resumed, adding another layer to the complex interplay of personalities at the gala.

With Vox's comment about Alastor being outdated sinking in, the radio demon responded with a sly grin, sharp teeth on display, his eyes displays dials, as the rooms lights began to deepen, "Ah, Vox, your television endeavors are impressive, but remember, I'm not just audible; I'm unforgettable. A little screen time won't change that," he retorted, “This face was made for radio.” He said with a grin, tilting his head to the side, a sharp snap in his neck, his words carrying a mix of amusement and confidence. The verbal exchange between the two overlords added another layer to the already charged atmosphere, each comment becoming a piece in the intricate puzzle of conflicts and egos at the gala.

“See what you did grandma, now you’ve got the two of them fighting.” Velvet said, pointing a finger into Carmella’s chest. She scoffed, shoving her away.

“Don’t you dare get disrespectful on me you brat.” Carmilla said, beginning to heat up with anger.

That's when Madame stepped in, reappearing in the form of a taller shadow, casting a lengthened silhouette in the room brimming with guests. Vox, Velvet, Alastor, and Carmilla found themselves at the center of the unfolding tableau, and Zestial, seemingly composed, lingered just behind Carmilla, quietly observing the escalating drama. Carmilla's visage betrayed a hint of distress, her pointed finger lowering as she registered your reappearance. Alastor, with his trademark grin, bordered on eerie, revealing a glimpse of his gums. The unfolding scene disrupted the serene atmosphere you had meticulously aimed to maintain during the gala, presenting an unexpected challenge.

A hush fell over the room as everyone turned their gaze toward you, anticipating your reaction. However, your face remained expressionless, concealed within the depths of the large shadow you had taken form of. In mere seconds, the shadow dissipated, leaving you in a misty veil. Yet, beneath the calm exterior, a storm brewed, ready to challenge the delicate balance of the evening.

Now, here you all were, sitting in the study after Carmilla had explained the situation.

“Madame, with all due respect,” Carmilla spoke, looking down. “I truly do not believe Velvet is mature enough to be at our table tonight.” Carmilla said.

“Are you questioning my judgment?” You asked sharply, to which Carmilla stiffened quickly, shaking her head then.

”No Madame, I would never-“

“Then do not say foolish things.” You said. Sighing, you shut your eyes, feeling the weight of the situation. Tonight sensitive information would be revealed and Carmilla did have some point here. Velvet clearly could not hold her tongue.

”Vox, control your associate please, or you both will be cut from the dinner tonight.” You said finally, to which he nodded nervously.

“Of course Madame.” He said, nodding to you.

“I wasn’t finished.” You said, looking to Alastor.

“I want none of this technology talk either.” You spoke, staring at Alastor who just smiled with lidded eyes. You knew he was very much upset, but you had forbidden anyone to fight in your home, anyone but you of course. “You all will act like mature adults wether you like it or not. I am not your guardian, I should not be having this conversation with overlords who should know better.” You said, standing. ”Now, all of you, out.” You said, snapping your fingers. Quickly the shadows began to move, ushering everyone out of your study. Everyone except Carmilla. “Not you.” You said to her, Zestial nodding to you and her as he stepped out, giving you both privacy.

“Madame, I didn’t mean what I said-“ Carmilla said quickly. You waved her off, straightening yourself out.

“Nonsense Carmilla, I know you meant well.” You said with a stoic expression. You sit back down, crossing your legs and snapping your fingers to form a chair in front of your desk, ushering her to sit. “I wanted to speak to you about your weapons.” You stated. At this her eyes went wide, before dropping again.

“Oh, very well then. What would you like to know?” She asked. You grinned, before standing again.

“Well, how much would I need to give you for you to make me a personal bayonet?” You asked. She went silent for a moment, before answering.

“Nothing at all Madame.” She said, standing to look at you. “May I ask what for?” She questioned. You shook your head.

“No, just to have on display. I want a new one, the old one I have is quite out of style for me.” You replied. She just nodded, before you waved to her, sitting back down and summoning a script again. “You may go now, and please, do not argue with children.” You commented. She just smiled and nodded, leaving you to your own vices.

It was half-past eleven, five minutes till the midnight bells chime. Everyone in the lobby was beginning to get excited for the entertainment you had planned for the night. Oh, you knew you would not disappoint.

“Madame would like everyone to accompany her on a journey tonight. She has sent me to retrieve you all. She would like to formally welcome you to tonight’s entertainment.” The large shadow said, standing from the topic of the stairs. Behind it was a large portal. It stepped backwards, into the portal, and nodded for the guests to start coming through.

The custom-built coliseum stands as a testament to Madame's vision, a grand fusion of opulence and dark elegance. The circular structure boasts towering columns, but instead of conventional pillars, thick chains rise, intricately linked and serving as both ornamental decor and structural support. The arches, molded in black, curve gracefully around the circumference, evoking a Victorian Gothic aesthetic that permeates the entire venue.

Two larger-than-life statues of Madame herself flank the entrance, capturing her regal poise and adding a touch of imposing authority. The statues serve not only as decorative elements but as a representation of the gala's hostess, a constant presence overseeing the proceedings, she is always watching, all seeing, perfection.

The overall ambiance is one of grandeur and mystery, with the black molding on the arches casting shadows that play into the darker undertones. Every intricate detail, from the chains to the statues, contributes to the unique Victorian Gothic feel of the coliseum, matching Madame’s home perfectly, matching her perfectly. The venue, finally being unveiled to the guests, now welcomes them who are treated to an appetizer course, surrounded by the striking architecture and entertained within the darkly enchanting atmosphere Madame has meticulously crafted.

Numerous shadows, dark and formless, line the entrance walls, extending silent greetings to the arriving guests. Their presence adds an air of mystique and intrigue as they blend seamlessly with the Gothic architecture. As attendees make their way into the coliseum, these shadowy figures create an ethereal welcome, embodying the unique atmosphere of Madame's custom-built venue.

At a separate entrance reserved for the handpicked members of Madame's esteemed dinner table, a solitary shadow stands guard. This entrance, reserved for a select few, hints at the exclusivity and importance of those who will partake in the upcoming dinner. The shadowy sentinels serve not only as silent greeters but also as guardians of the event's secrets, casting an enigmatic allure over the gala.

A singular shadows escorts Charlotte, Alastor, and the rest of the overlords to the exclusive section, leading them to an elevator to bring them to the best seats in the coliseum. The elevator’s interior is a striking display of elegance, with white and black checkered flooring lending a timeless touch. The walls, enveloped in darkness, exude an air of mystery, while black, smokey glass engravings on the ceiling add intricate detailing that dances in the ambient light. Each number on the elevator, indicating the ascending levels, glows a vibrant red, creating a vivid contrast against the monochrome palette.

“Oh I’m so excited! What do you think we’re gonna see? Gladiators? Sinners fight? Oh actually I hope not, I don’t want people to die.” Charlotte said to Alastor. Carmilla just chuckled at her antics while Zestial eyed her with curiosity. Where did Alastor find such a girl and why the princess of all people?

The elevator stops at the top floor, revealing the opening in the middle, which was surprisingly covered with water.

“What is Madame playing at?” Carmilla questioned as the overlords sat in a row at the top. From there they could see everything and everyone.

“I am quite uncertain, yet my anticipation is stirred nonetheless.” Zestial said. The lights around began to dim, and shadows began to pour glasses of water in front of all the guests. Down in the middle of the coliseum was the tallest shadow, the one that seemed to be Madame’s favorite, since it always spoke for her.

“Greetings all. It is Madame’s pleasure to invite you all to the special entertainment tonight. Madame has put together some of hell’s finest performers for your entertainment tonight. I would like to present, preforming here tonight, The Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra preforming Ludwig van Beethoven’s Violin Concerto in D major, Op. 61.” The shadow said with a bow, before it vanished just as quick as it came. Then, other shadows appeared, but this time they were different. They were people, performers, with clear outlined silhouettes, faces and expressions, even clothes.

“Hey, Al?” Charlotte asked, leaning over in her seat to Alastor. He let out a ‘hm?’ In response.

“Does Madame own those souls down there?” Charlotte whispered, but before Alastor could answer, a shadow had already cut in.

“Yes. All the shadows here, even yours, Madame owns.” The shadow said quietly, filling Charlotte’s glass cup with water. Charlotte nervously, perked up, but said nothing as she shadow carried on with it’s catering.

The ethereal notes of the music filled the air as the performance unfolded. Around the musicians stood ballet dancers, their movements a delicate poetry in motion. Clad in all black, the performers created a stark contrast to the dancers, who emerged with an otherworldly grace akin to figures rising from the depths of water. The dancers moved with an angelic fluidity, their forms intertwining seamlessly with the haunting melody, creating a mesmerizing tableau that captivated the audience. The visual symphony of black-clad musicians and the whisky-hued ballet dancers painted a scene of enchantment and mystery within the grand coliseum. Even down to the dancers, this had Madame written all over it.

Velvet's keen eye captured the essence of the dancers' ethereal movements on paper. With each stroke of her sketch, she depicted the dancers as if emerging from a watery abyss, the fog enveloping their feet creating an illusion of water flowing upward. The intricate details on her sketch paper brought to life the dancers' graceful forms, their figures seemingly intertwined with the rising mist, evoking the enchantment of a waterspout captured in a moment of sublime artistry. Velvet's artistic interpretation added a layer of depth to the performance, transforming the ephemeral dance into a tangible and captivating visual narrative.

Water had begun to swirl, the dancers moving around it, the water getting taller and taller, similar to the way it had when you had first made your entrance at the beginning of the Gala. Now, it was water, and from Charlotte’s seat, she had struggled to make out what was going on. She turned to Alastor to see him holding a pair of opera glasses in his hand. Without you having to ask, he tapped the armrest of her seat. Charlotte turned to the side to see a pair tucked neatly against the front of the armrest. She grabbed them quickly, before looking through them and at the waterspout now forming in the middle. Her jaw flew open, as well as the loud screech of Alastor’s track playing. Vox had short circuited, and Carmilla gasped loudly. Velvet stood silent, but there was evident confusion on her face, while Zestial sunk into his seat, conflicting emotions flowing through him.

“Madame- she’s-“ Charlotte stuttered, and Alastor nodded, swallowing thickly.

“With an exorcist. I know.”

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin charlie #hazbin angel dust #hazbin vaggie #hazbin demon #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel rosie #alastor #zestial hazbin hotel #yandere alastor x reader #yandere alastor #yandere vox #yandere vox x reader #hellaverse #isuckatwritingsobenice infernal shadows #isuckatwritingsobenice

2K notes · View notes

lostfracturess · 1 month ago

Text

remedies and reasons | ch. 04

pairing — professor geto x law student reader

summary — this wasn’t supposed to happen. not that miserable internship at the law firm you hated, not him becoming your doctor, and definitely not that drunken night at the bar. but he helped, and god, you needed a friend. and he did too. except it's never just friendship with him, is it? it could be perfect—messy, complicated, but perfect. if only his heart wasn’t already taken.

word count — 11.8 k

warnings — 18+ ONLY. contains explicit sexual content, age difference (10 years), doctor-patient relationship, angst, smoking, alcohol use, mature themes, and depictions of illness. reader discretion is advised.

previously — as suguru struggles with his conflicting feelings, you have your own battles to face. between the hectic internship and these stupid feelings for your doctor, you could really use a break. good thing there's that party this weekend—though knowing your luck, something's bound to go wrong.

author's note — i know it's been a while (sorry !!) but this one is a little bit spicy to make up for it and maybe we even meet other people we know from certain stories. thank you all for being so patient with me and for all the sweet messages checking in. you guys are the best !! hope you enjoy and as always, your comments and reactions mean everything to me <3

series masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

"In consideration thereof, the Parties hereby agree that upon completion of the Merger..."

You started the sentence for the sixth time, highlighter poised over the page. But the words refused to make sense, like they were written in some strange legal cipher your brain had forgotten how to decode.

"In consideration thereof, the Parties hereby..."

Your mind drifted once more. Dark eyes. Gentle hands. The warmth of his palm against your back at the gallery. Damn it. Focus.

"In consideration..."

How his fingers felt inside of y—

"IN CONSIDERATION—"

The highlighter slipped, leaving a bright yellow streak across your index finger instead of the page. Perfect. You stared at your now neon fingertip and let out a long breath.

At least it matched the other evidence of your scattered mental state today — the coffee stain on your sleeve, the backwards sticky note on your computer monitor, the fact that you'd put your access card in the vending machine instead of your wallet this morning.

You dragged your attention back to the merger agreement, determined to actually comprehend at least one full sentence. Something about contractual obligations and breach of fiduciary duty. The words might as well have been written in ancient Greek for all you were absorbing them.

Instead, your thoughts wandered to the way he'd looked that night — slightly rumpled dress shirt, hair windswept from rushing straight from surgery, that tiny spot of blood on his sleeve he'd tried so desperately to hide.

As if that somehow mattered more than the fact he'd just spent hours saving someone's life before coming to see you.

The way he'd actually listened when you rambled about brushstrokes and composition, those pretty eyes fixed on you like you were sharing the secrets of the universe instead of just babbling about art. How someone who spent his days peering into people's brains could seem so genuinely interested in something as far removed from his world as contemporary art.

And the way he'd looked at you when you talked about your paintings. Your stomach did that stupid little flutter again at the memory, the same sensation you'd felt under his gaze that night.

No. Stop it. Case files. Merger acquisitions. Important legal stuff that actually mattered.

"In consideration thereof..." you tried one more time, but it was hopeless.

You slammed the case file shut, earning a few startled glances from nearby cubicles. A few papers fluttered to the floor, but you couldn't even bring yourself to care. This was ridiculous. You were supposed to be a professional, not some lovesick teenager mooning over your doctor.

Maybe it was just curiosity. It had to be curiosity. Nothing else made sense. You weren't lovesick. Definitely not. That would be ridiculous and completely inappropriate. He is your doctor. There are boundaries. Professional lines. You know this.

But your treacherous mind kept circling back to that moment when the phone call came. How quickly his expression had changed, walls sliding into place. You shouldn't have wondered about what — or who — had put that look on his face. It wasn't your business.

And yet you couldn't help but think it was her.

Dr. Gojo's girlfriend, the one Suguru had feelings for. You remembered how he'd sounded in the hospital that day, talking about two people made for each other, the pain in his voice when he'd admitted to watching his best friend fall in love.

Something tightened in your chest at the thought, a strange heaviness you didn't quite understand. It wasn't your place to feel—whatever this was. You barely knew him, had no right to care about his complicated feelings for someone else.

Besides, it was actually kind of tragic when you thought about it — harboring feelings for your best friend's girlfriend. Like something out of a drama. You should have felt sympathy, maybe even pity. Not this odd feeling that made you want to look away whenever he got that faraway look in his eyes.

You dropped your head into your hands with a groan. What was wrong with you? Since when did you start caring about the personal life of a man who you barely knew?

"Working hard or hardly working?"

Chad's voice cut through your thoughts like nails on a chalkboard. Great. Because this day wasn't complicated enough already.

You looked up to find him perched on the edge of Higurama's desk in his usual way — like he was posing for some imaginary corporate photoshoot. With his stupid suit, all perfectly tailored lines and subtle pinstripes that screamed 'i'm rich'.

"Don't you have your own work to do?" You didn't bother hiding your annoyance.

"Actually, I just finished reviewing the Yamamoto case files." He picked up one of your carefully arranged documents, examining it with that insufferable air of superiority. "You know, the ones you were supposed to handle? Higurama seemed pretty impressed with my analysis."

You snatched the paper from his hands. "Those were my notes."

"Were they?" He tilted his head, his perfectly styled hair not moving an inch. You'd never seen it move, not even in the wind. "Must have gotten mixed up in the filing system. Easy mistake to make."

You clenched your jaw, fighting the urge to throw your coffee mug in his self-satisfied face. Your entire weekend's work, and he'd just—what? Slapped his name on it and presented it as his own?

"What do you want, Chad?"

"Stop calling me that."

"Yeah, whatever. What do you want?" you repeated, turning back to your work, hoping he'd take the hint.

Instead, he leaned closer, his cologne disgustingly close to your nose. "Actually, I wanted to ask you about the Nakamura case. The international trade dispute?"

You stiffened. That was another case you'd spent countless hours on, poring over documents until your eyes burned. Of course he was after that one too. "What about it?"

"Well," he drawled, picking up your pen and twirling it between his fingers, "I'm having trouble with some of the documentation requirements. Thought maybe you could walk me through it?"

"You work here too," you pointed out, snatching your pen back before he could add it to his collection of stolen things. "These are basic procedures. Maybe check the manual?"

He laughed, that practiced, hollow sound that probably took years of private school to perfect. "Come on, help a friend out. We're all on the same team here, right?"

"Friends? Is that what we are?"

"Well, colleagues then." He shifted closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Look, I know we got off on the wrong foot with the Yamamoto thing, but I'm trying here. Besides, it's good to have friends in high places. Never know when you might need a favor."

The implied threat wasn't subtle. Neither was the reminder of his position — daddy's little prince, untouchable in his tailored suit and borrowed authority.

"I'm busy," you said flatly, gathering your papers into a hasty pile. "Try Google."

"Google?" Chad's perfectly shaped eyebrows shot up like this was the most outrageous suggestion he'd ever heard. "Come on, don't be like that. I just need—"

Then the door opened and Higurama walked in, his usual stack of files tucked under his arm. His eyes flickered between you and Chad, taking in the scene — you half-standing, clearly trying to escape, Chad still perched on his desk like he owned the place.

"Ah, Mr. Kusakabe," Higurama said dryly. "I wasn't aware my office had become the new break room."

Chad slid off the desk, his corporate smile switching on like a well-oiled machine. "Mr. Higurama, I was just discussing the Nakamura case with—"

"I'm sure you were." Higurama set his files down with a pointed thud that made Chad flinch. "Don't you have that meeting with your father in ten minutes?"

You had to bite back a smile at how quickly Chad's perfectly composed expression crumbled. "Of course, you're right. I should get going." He straightened his already straight tie and headed for the door, but not before throwing you one last look that promised this wasn't over. Like a spoiled child who'd had his favorite toy taken away.

After he left, Higurama settled into his chair with a weary sigh that seemed to age him ten years. "Giving you trouble again?"

"It's fine," you said, straightening the papers Chad had disturbed. "Same as always."

"You know," Higurama began, studying you over his reading glasses with that paternal concern that always made you feel grateful and guilty at the same time, "you can tell me if he's making things difficult. His father may be a partner, but that doesn't give him the right to—"

"Really, it's okay." You managed what you hoped was a convincing smile. "I can handle Chad—I mean, Kusakabe."

Higurama's lips twitched slightly at your slip, the closest thing to a smile you'd seen from him all week. "I'm sure you can. Still." He pulled his reading glasses off and polished them with his handkerchief. "My door is always open. Well, except when it's closed. Or when I'm in court. Or meeting with clients. Or—"

"I get it," you laughed, feeling some of the tension ease from your shoulders. Sometimes it was easy to forget that underneath all his gruffness, Higurama actually cared. "Thank you."

He nodded, then let out a heavy sigh and sank lower in his chair, the leather creaking under his weight.

"What's wrong?" you asked, settling into the chair opposite his desk. You'd seen that look before — it usually preceded either a massive case breakthrough or an equally massive headache.

"These idiots are giving me grey hair," Higurama muttered, shuffling through a stack of papers.

You bit back the urge to point out that his hair was already pretty grey — had been since you'd started your internship. Some truths were better left unsaid, especially when your mentor looked like he was one case file away from a breakdown.

"Dr. Gojo and Dr. Geto?" The names slipped out before you could stop them, and you immediately wished you could take them back when Higurama looked up.

"Funny how you immediately knew who I was referring to." His lips twitched slightly. "Though I suppose they have quite the reputation around here."

"Well, they are our biggest clients from the hospital, right?" You fought back a blush, suddenly very interested in organizing the papers on the desk. "Are they in trouble?"

"Let's just say medical ethics and hospital politics don't always play nice together." He set down his reading glasses and rubbed his eyes. "And certain people seem determined to make my job as difficult as possible."

You fiddled with the corner of a document, fighting the urge to ask more direct questions. Like whether Suguru was okay. Whether this had anything to do with that phone call at the gallery, or the tension you'd sensed between him and Dr. Gojo lately.

"Is it serious?" you asked anyway.

Higurama gave you a long look over his desk. "Well, let's just say I'd rather defend a yakuza boss than deal with hospital board politics. At least with yakuza, you know where you stand." He paused, then added, "But that's not something you need to worry about."

You hesitated, then asked the question that had been nagging at you for weeks. "Why do you even handle their cases? I mean, not to sound rude, but medical law isn't even your specialty."

Higurama was quiet for a moment, his fingers drumming absently on his desk. Then he leaned back, a distant look crossing his face. "Did I ever tell you about my brain aneurysm?"

"Your what?"

"Eight years ago. Was sitting right here, actually, working on some antitrust lawsuit." He tapped the spot on his desk where Chad had been perched earlier. "Started getting the worst headache of my life. Next thing I know, I'm in the ER, and this arrogant young neurosurgeon is telling me he's going to crack open my skull."

Your eyes widened. "Dr. Gojo?"

"Mmhm." A wry smile tugged at his lips. "Every other surgeon took one look at my scans and basically started writing my obituary. But this kid?" He scoffed, but there was something almost fond in the sound. "Struts in like he owns the place, probably fresh out of whatever dumpster he got his medical license from, and said he's going to save my life. Had Geto with him too, back when they were both still residents and marginally less of a pain in my ass."

You tried not to smile at the image. "And he saved your life?"

"Unfortunately." Higurama's expression was sour. "Would've been easier if he'd just let me die. Instead, I'm stuck here, playing babysitter to two overgrown children."

He tapped his pen against the files on his desk, the sound sharp in the quiet office. "And somehow they just wouldn't go away. Keep showing up with their problems and their drama and their 'just one more favor.'" He mimicked Gojo's voice with startling accuracy. "And now I'm stuck cleaning up after two idiots who think hospital rules are more like friendly suggestions."

He glared at the pen in his hand. Then, almost grudgingly, he added, "But I suppose they've grown on me." His eyes snapped up to yours. "Don't you dare tell them I said that."

You couldn't help but smile at his grumbling. There was something oddly wholesome about it — this grouchy corporate lawyer secretly looking out for two chaotic surgeons.

"Stop grinning like that," Higurama snapped, but without real heat. Then his expression shifted, turning serious. "But listen, keep your distance from them outside of work. They're nothing but trouble in private."

Your smile froze, heart skipping a beat. Did he know about the bar? The art gallery? The way Suguru's finger's had felt inside of you? "Of course," you managed, voice carefully neutral despite the sudden tightness in your throat. "Why would I—"

"Good." He cut you off, already reaching for another file as if he hadn't just made your world tilt sideways. "Now, about the Matsuda case, I need you to look into their import documentation from 2018 to 2020. Something's not adding up with their customs declarations."

"Right, the trade dispute." God, you needed to get it together. "I actually noticed some discrepancies in their shipping lists—"

But even as you dove into the familiar world of legal documents and corporate regulations, you couldn't quite shake the pointed look in Higurama's eyes. Nothing but trouble in private, he'd said.

Yeah. With every flutter of your heart when you thought of Suguru, you were starting to figure that out.

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

The apartment of your parents sat squeezed into a worn building at Tokyo's edges, where the city's gleam began to fade. But as soon as you stepped inside, your mom's baking enveloped you in familiar warmth, making even the tiny space feel like home.

At the kitchen table that doubled as his desk, your dad hunched over a stack of bills, squinting through reading glasses he stubbornly refused to admit needing. The table wobbled on its uneven leg, your mom's latest fix—a stack of paper towels—proving no more effective than her dozen previous attempts.

"What's all this nonsense?" you heard your dad say.

"Here, let me look at those," you said, dropping your work bag and settling into the chair beside him. The wood creaked in that old familiar way, bringing back memories of homework sessions at this very spot — your dad's calloused fingers pointing out math problems while your mom hummed by the stove.

Your dad slid the forms your way. "Tell me what all this government gibberish means."

"Just pension forms, Dad. Nothing major." You'd barely started explaining when your mom appeared, wielding a plate of cake that effectively derailed any serious discussion.

"Are you eating good?" she asked, setting down a slice big enough for three. "You're not working too hard, are you?"

"I eat plenty, Mom. Don't worry."

She brushed your cheek. "Convenience store food don't count. These fancy law firms are working you to death."

"It's just a busy period," you assured her, failing to suppress a yawn.

"With you, it's always a busy period." Your dad set aside his papers, fixing you with that penetrating look that still made you feel twelve years old. "You're young. You should be out living life, not buried in work like us."

Even at 26, your parents still fussed over you like you were a child. Some things never change, you suppose.

"Actually, I'm heading to a party tonight with friends."

Your mom's face lit up like you'd announced world peace. "A party! Oh, that's wonderful!" Her expression quickly shifted to concern. "But the lights there won't be too flashy, will they? You know how they can trigger—"

"Mom," you cut in gently, all too familiar with that worried look from years of school trips and sleepovers. "The medication Dr. Gojo prescribed works really well. I'm fine now."

"Just take care of yourself," your dad said softly.

"The medication's been great," you assured them. "Really. No seizures in months. Plus Megumi will be there, he knows exactly what to do if anything happens."

Your mom's face still held that familiar uncertainty, years of midnight hospital runs and frightened vigils etched in her expression. You crossed to her, wrapping her in a quick hug. "I'll be careful, I promise. No strobe lights, no excessive drinking, no late nights."

"Alright, alright," she conceded, but couldn't resist adding, "You know, there might be some nice young men there—"

"Mom!"

"What? I'm only asking! Mrs. Kenji from the convenience store was just telling me her son's studying medicine—"

"Please stop." You stuffed a generous forkful of cake into your mouth, the same recipe she'd used for every birthday since you could remember.

"Leave her be," your dad chuckled, then paused. "Though a doctor wouldn't be such a bad match."

You nearly choked on your cake. "Doctors are the absolute worst," you blurted, words tumbling out before you can think twice. "They're completely married to their work, walking around like they're god's gift to medicine with their fancy degrees and perfect hair—"

Your parents exchanged looks as you continued your unexpected rant.

"—acting all mysterious and professional one minute, then totally unprofessional the next. Sure, they show up late because of emergencies, which okay, fine, lives are at stake, but still—"

Your mom set down her coffee cup slowly. "Sweetie—"

"—and don't even get me started on their god complexes. Strutting around in those white coats like they own the place, being all tall and handsome and brooding—"

"Handsome and brooding?" your dad cut in, eyebrows rising toward his hairline.

Heat flooded your cheeks. "I meant hypothetically. You know, doctors in general. Not anyone specific."

"Right." Your dad set his papers aside completely, barely suppressing a grin. "Well then, how about a nice accountant instead?"

"Oh, an accountant would be perfect," your mom jumped in, eyes twinkling. "Nice stable hours. No emergencies. Definitely no god complexes."

"And absolutely no perfect hair," your dad added.

You buried your face in the stack of pension forms. "I hate you both."

"No you don't," your mom sang, already cutting another generous slice of cake. "But somebody certainly has strong feelings about doctors. In a very theoretical way, of course."

"Can we please just focus on the pension paperwork?"

"Oh, speaking of work," your mom settled into her chair with that expression that meant you weren't getting away easily, "how's the law firm treating you? Is Mr. Higurama still taking good care of you?"

A familiar heaviness settled in your chest — the same one that appeared whenever they asked about the firm. You pulled on your well-practiced smile. "It's going well. Busy, but I'm learning lots."

Your dad's face lit up with pride, and something twisted inside you. How could you tell them that each morning, you walked into that gleaming tower feeling like an imposter? That your days were spent drowning in work you couldn't bring yourself to care about, surrounded by people like Chad who seemed born for this world in a way you'd never be?

"Our daughter at Nishimura and Asahi," your mom repeated, the same way she'd probably told everyone at the market, the same way she'd mentioned it to Mrs. Tanaka at the convenience store countless times. Their daughter, the lawyer. Their golden ticket to a better life.

You thought about the half-finished paintings hidden under your bed in the dormitory, the art supplies you only dared touch in the dead of night. The way your heart had raced at the gallery with Suguru, feeling truly alive for the first time in months.

How strange that you could feel both so seen and so invisible at the same time.

"Yeah." You took another bite of cake, which now tasted like sawdust in your mouth. "It's... great. Really great."

They'd sacrificed everything. Dad's double shifts, Mom's weekend cleaning jobs, their dreams abandoned so you could chase what they thought was yours.

How could you tell them their vision of success was slowly suffocating you? That those gleaming office towers felt more like prison walls with each passing day? That this path you'd convinced yourself to follow was turning into a nightmare? That you'd been wrong?

"Should we look at those pension forms now?" you asked, desperate to escape before the guilt could completely overwhelm you.

Sometimes love could be its own kind of cage, you realized. Your parents' dedication, their unwavering support. It was both a blessing and a burden. They'd given up so much to give you a better life, never realizing they might be pushing you toward a life that wasn't better at all, just different. More prestigious. More stable. More suffocating.

The most painful part was knowing they'd done everything right. They'd loved you, supported you, sacrificed for you — all the things good parents were supposed to do. There was no one to blame, no villain in this story. Just well-meaning parents who wanted the best for their child, never realizing that their dreams for you might not align with your own.

It was a special kind of heartbreak, being unable to disappoint people who had never disappointed you.

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

"If you poke my eye out, I swear—" You squirmed in the backseat, trying to escape as Nobara wielded the mascara wand right in front of your nose.

"Stop squirming then!" She grabbed your chin, fingers surprisingly gentle despite her commanding tone.

"Kind of hard when you're coming at me with that thing!"

From the driver's seat, Megumi let out a long sigh. "Could we maybe not cause an accident? I'd rather not explain that to the police."

"Oh please," Nobara scoffed, never taking her eyes off her work. "I know what I'm doing."

"Since when?" you challenged.

"Since forever. Now shut up and close your eyes."

You complied, though not without a dramatic eye roll first. The car hit a pothole, making Nobara curse as the mascara wand nearly went up your nose.

"Megumi!" She smacked the back of his seat. "A little warning next time?"

"Sure thing," he deadpanned. "Would you like me to narrate every bump in the road? Maybe add some mood music while I'm at it?"

In the passenger seat, Yuji twisted around to watch, grinning like this was the best entertainment he'd seen all week. "Can I try too?"

"Less commentary, more navigation," Megumi cut in. "Where exactly is this place?"

"Right, um..." Yuji squinted at his phone. "Take the next right. Should be the big house at the end—can't miss it."

"I still can't believe we're going to a med student party," you muttered, trying to keep still as Nobara started on your other eye. "Seriously, they'll probably spend all night talking about cadavers."

"Which is exactly why—" Nobara leaned back to examine her work, "—we need to make sure you look absolutely killer."

"I don't need to look killer," you protested. "I'm not trying to impress anyone."

Nobara lowered the mascara wand, fixing you with a long look. "Right. And I'm just going for the thrilling discussions about gross anatomy."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, I think you know." She reached into her makeup bag, emerging with a tube of lip gloss. "Especially since a certain someone might be there."

Your stomach did an unwelcome flip. "Who told you that?"

"Aha!" Nobara's eyes lit up like she'd just won the lottery. "So there is someone! I knew it. Spill. Now."

"There's nothing to spill," you said, but the heat creeping up your neck betrayed you. "And I definitely don't need lip gloss."

"Too late!" She was already uncapping the tube. "Open up!"

"Nobara, I swear to god—"

The car swerved suddenly, sending Nobara's carefully aimed lip gloss streaking across your cheek.

"Megumi!" she screeched.

"My bad," he said, his tone suggesting it was anything but accidental. "Must've been a pothole."

"And this," Yuji announced from the front seat, "is why I never let you drive anymore," earning himself a death glare from Megumi.

You tried to wipe at your cheek, but the sticky gloss refusing to budge. "Great."

"Don't move!" Nobara was already armed with a makeup wipe. "I can fix this!"

"No more fixing! I look fine!"

"We haven't even started on your eyeshadow!"

You looked desperately at Megumi in the rearview mirror. "Help me."

"Sorry," he said, barely suppressing a smile. "I'm just the chauffeur."

"Traitor."

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

The first thing that hit you was the noise.

Music throbbed through massive speakers, the bass so heavy you could feel it in your bones, while voices rose and fell in uneven waves, trying and failing to outmatch the music that echoed off the marble floors and high ceilings.

The second thing was the sheer excess of it all.

"Holy shit," Yuji said, voicing what you were all thinking.

The house—if you could even call it that—was more like something out of a movie. A crystal chandelier hung from the vaulted ceiling, casting prismatic light across the sea of bodies below. The furniture had been pushed aside to create some sort of dance floor, where people were already dancing like the party had been going for hours.

"Is that a—?" Nobara pointed, mouth agape, at what appeared to be a massive human heart, currently serving as an elaborate vodka luge for a group of laughing students.

"There's two," Megumi corrected, nodding toward another one shaped like some kind of organ. "But I'm not quite sure what's that supposed to look like."

You stood frozen in the entrance, your senses on overload. Strobe lights sliced through the darkness in rapid pulses, bouncing off mirrored walls and making your head spin. The air was thick with fog machine haze and enough designer perfume to stock a department store.

"Hey." Megumi's hand found your elbow. When you turned, his expression was pure concerned-best-friend. "You good? With the..." He gestured vaguely, but you knew what he meant.

You took a deep breath, mentally checking in with yourself as the bass thundered through your chest. "Yeah, think so. Just... don't abandon me for any hot med students?"

He smiled, shifting slightly to block some of the strobing lights. "Please. As if anyone here is interesting enough to make me ditch you."

Suddenly, a burst of cheers drew your attention to what looked like a Vegas-style bartending show. Some guy in a vest was juggling bottles and literally setting drinks on fire, because apparently regular cocktails weren't fancy enough for this crowd.

"Oh. My. God." Nobara's squeal could probably shatter glass. "Is that a chocolate fountain? That's it, forget becoming a pharmacist—I'm marrying whoever owns this place."

"That would be me."

The voice came from behind, smooth as expensive whiskey. You turned to face a tall, striking man. Designer clothes, top buttons undone and sleeves rolled up, artfully tousled dark hair, and the kind of smile that's definitely practiced in mirrors.

"Naoya Zenin," he introduced himself, managing to sound both bored and smugly pleased at the same time. "Welcome to my humble abode."

Humble. Right. Through an archway, you could see the party spilled out to a pool area that belonged in a luxury home magazine, complete with more people than your entire apartment building.

"Don't think I've seen you around campus."

Before you could fumble for an explanation, Nobara glided forward like she was born for this moment. "Oh, we're med students too," she lied smoothly, her smile pure sugar. "Exchange program. From Kyoto University."

You barely contained your surprise, but then Nobara's heel found your toes.

"Kyoto?" Naoya's eyebrow arched. "Really? What's your focus?"

"Neurology," Nobara replied without missing a beat, then she gestured toward Megumi. "He's in cardiology. Absolute genius with hearts. Top of our class."

Megumi's face remained admirably blank, though you could practically see his soul leaving his body.

"And you?" Naoya's attention moved to Yuji, who froze like someone had hit his pause button.

"Sports medicine!" Nobara swooped in, slinging an arm around Yuji's shoulders. "You wouldn't believe what he did for our university volleyball team last semester. Practically gave them all new knees."

"Yeah, uh," Yuji managed, looking slightly green. "Knees are... really something."

You had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from losing it as Nobara continued to spin her elaborate tale. She was in full swing now, crafting backstories with enough detail to make you almost believe them yourself.

"—which is exactly why Tokyo was the perfect choice," she concluded with a theatrical wave of her hand. "The selection process was brutal, but once they saw our research proposals—"

"Research?" Naoya interrupted, looking more intrigued now. "What kind?"

"Oh!" Nobara's eyes lit up with what you knew only meant trouble. She glanced around frantically before her gaze landed on the slowly melting ice heart. "We're actually studying crystallization patterns in organic tissue preservation."

You nearly choked on air.

"Is that so? And what have you found?"

"Well," Nobara continued, smooth as butter, "the molecular structure of ice formation in cellular matrices shows fascinating parallels to..." She jabbed an elbow into your ribs.

"Crystalline lattice networks!" you squeaked, mentally thanking every god that you'd actually opened one of Megumi's chemistry books that one time.

"Precisely." Nobara beamed like you'd just discovered penicillin. "The implications for long-term tissue storage are absolutely groundbreaking."

Naoya's eyes narrowed slightly. "And you're all involved in this research?"

"Interdisciplinary approach," Megumi cut in, his poker face giving away nothing. "We each bring our own perspective to the project."

"How intriguing," Naoya drawled, and you couldn't tell if he was actually buying it or just playing along. "We'll have to discuss it further over drinks. I have some excellent imported vodka over here."

"Perfect!" Nobara practically sang, already dragging a shocked Yuji towards the bar before Naoya could start asking about actual medical terms.

The moment Naoya turned away, you released a breath that felt like you'd been holding it since freshman year. "Crystallization patterns?" You glanced at Nobara. "Seriously?"

"I panicked, okay?" she whispered back, still maintaining her beauty-queen smile. "The ice sculpture was right there! What was I supposed to say?"

"Maybe something that won't get us exposed as frauds when he starts asking about actual medical stuff?"

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

It was remarkable how quickly your ridiculous pretense took on a life of its own. Your virgin mojito had long since grown warm, forgotten in the excitement of your increasingly elaborate charade. You'd tried to back out earlier, but Nobara wouldn't hear of it.

Now, surprisingly, you were having too much fun to care.

Nobara charmed her way through the room like always, her tales of revolutionary research getting more outlandish by the minute. Yet somehow, these future doctors were eating it up. Her theatrical gestures and infectious confidence made even the most absurd claims sound plausible.

You found yourself caught up in the performance, adding details to your fictional research with surprising ease. Every half-remembered phrase from Megumi's textbooks, every medical drama you'd ever watched, became fodder for your improvised deception.

"Exactly!" Nobara said, turning over to you. "Show them that diagram you were working on."

Without missing a beat, you grabbed a cocktail napkin and began sketching what you hoped looked like scientific diagrams but were actually just random shapes you remembered from Megumi's chemistry textbooks. The small crowd leaned in.

"This is brilliant," someone said, peering at your doodles. "The way you've mapped the molecular bonds—"

"Groundbreaking," another agreed, though you were pretty sure your drawing made no sense.

Even Megumi, usually allergic to fun, had embraced the absurdity. His natural stoicism translated perfectly into the role of a serious researcher. In fact, he seemed genuinely in his element. For once, he could talk about molecular structures and reaction mechanisms without your eyes glazing over.

Yuji, meanwhile, had found his stride discussing sports injuries with a group of actual athletes. His enthusiasm for sports made up for any medical knowledge he lacked, and he'd managed to deflect every technical question with "Yeah, but you should see what this does to your knees!"

It was strangely freeing, this slipping into another life.

You hadn't actually needed to pretend to be med students — there were plenty of other students at the party too, from engineering to literature. But somehow, making up this stupid story was surprisingly enjoyable.

For once, you weren't thinking about law school, your parents' expectations, or your complicated feelings about certain doctors. Instead, you were just... playing, creating a fantasy world where you could be anyone you wanted to be.

And maybe that was the real breakthrough of all.

Later that night, you and Nobara made your way to the bar to get new drinks, still laughing about your successful deception. Naoya was already there, lounging against the bar with the kind of casual elegance that suggested he'd never had an awkward moment in his life.

His eyes lit up when he spotted you, that boyish smile spreading across his face. He straightened up, abandoning whatever conversation he'd been having with his friends.

"Ah, our brilliant researchers," he drawled, gesturing to the bartender. "Let me make you something special."

The way he said it made you wonder if he'd seen through your act, but his smile remained playful, almost conspiratorial. He leaned over the bar himself, selecting a few bottles. His movements were smooth, casual, like everything else about him.

"Oh, she doesn't drink," Nobara said, pulling you closer as she watched him mix the drinks. "Medical condition."

"Come on, one won't hurt," Naoya insisted, his smile never wavering. "This is a celebration." He slid two glasses towards you both, the liquid an impossible shade of blue that seemed to glow. "My own creation. Like your groundbreaking research, it's one of a kind."

Nobara reached for the drink, but you hesitated, knowing it was a bad idea to drink with your medication. But then you reached for it anyway. It seemed rude not to.

Naoya raised his own glass for a toast, but before either of you could react, a group of boisterous athletes in varsity jackets crashed into your circle

"Yo, Naoya! Stop flirting and get your ass over here!"

Naoya's casual composure cracked slightly as his friends practically manhandled him away and dragged him backwards. "Ladies, excuse me. Duty calls. Save that drink for me?"

Once he was gone, Nobara nudged you with her elbow. "Well, he was subtle."

"Please don't start."

"What? I'm just saying, the guy couldn't take his eyes off you."

You rolled your eyes. "He's literally your type. Rich, handsome, probably going to inherit a hospital or three. Why don't you go for it?"

"Because he wasn't looking at me?" Nobara raised an eyebrow. "Besides, since when do you turn down good-looking guys?"

"Since they started looking like they've never heard the word 'no' in their lives. I mean, look at this place. These people probably vacation in countries I can't even spell."

"Right, because that's totally the reason." Nobara's voice was dripping with sarcasm. "Nothing to do with a certain someone who you won't talk about?"

You groaned, dropping your head onto the bar. "Can we go back to pretending to be brilliant researchers? That was way more fun than this conversation."

"Don't be like that!" Nobara suddenly perked up, grabbing your arm. "Come on, let's go dance. Fresh air will do you good, and maybe clear whatever, or whoever, is on your mind."

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

You followed Nobara into the backyard, still carrying your untouched drink more for show than anything else. The night had transformed the perfect garden into something between a music festival and a medical conference gone wild.

Fairy lights twinkled in the trees, casting everything in a dreamy glow, while the pool glowed an artificial blue that matched your drink. In the water, people splashed around, their pretense of sophistication long abandoned as music pulsed through the air.

Near an absurdly big fire pit, you spotted Megumi and Yuji sitting with a couple of female med students. Even from a distance, you could tell that Yuji was trying to impress them in his own unique way of doing—whatever it was he was doing there—while Megumi watched with his usual quiet amusement.

Then, the music shifted to something with a heavy beat, and before you could protest, Nobara grabbed your hands, pulling you both into a dance circle. Even Megumi got dragged in, though his version of dancing mostly involved standing there while the rest of you moved around him. His deadpan expression only made everything funnier.

You found yourself laughing, really laughing, as Yuji attempted to coordinate a group choreography that absolutely no one could follow. Nobara twirled you around, both of you giggling as you nearly crashed into Megumi, who caught you with an eye roll that couldn't quite hide his smile.

For a moment, everything else faded away. None of it mattered — not law school, not your internship, not any of it. You were just four friends being young and stupid together, pretending to be something you weren't and having more fun than you'd had in months.

Across the yard, you kept catching glimpses of Naoya, who remained stationed at the beer pong table, surrounded by his athletic friends. His smile would flash in your direction whenever your eyes met, and something about the attention felt... nice. Not him specifically. Maybe you just liked being seen. By someone. Anyone.

That's when someone burst through the backyard doors, nearly colliding with you. His shout cut through the music and chatter, "Professors incoming!"

The words rippled through the crowd like lightning. The party dissolved into instant chaos as someone killed the music, leaving only the telltale sound of glass bottles being hastily collected while future medical professionals scattered like startled teenagers.

Before you could process what was happening, someone crashed into you — literally crashed, sending your blue drink all over your shirt. The woman looked right through you, her eyes fixed on something behind your shoulders, face pale like she'd seen a ghost.

"I'm so so sorry," she managed.

"It's okay—" you started, but she was already moving past you, drawn to the front entrance like a magnet.

"What a bitch," Nobara said, eyeing your ruined shirt.

"At least I don't have to pretend to drink it anymore." You dabbed uselessly at your shirt, though you were oddly unfazed. After all, this wasn't the first time something like this had happened.

But Nobara wasn't listening anymore — her attention had shifted to the front entrance where a group of older, admittedly attractive men had just walked in. Your stomach dropped when you spotted him. No, them. Both of them.

Dr. Gojo and Dr. Geto, walking in like they owned the place. Which, you realized with growing horror, they kind of did — these were probably their students. And here you were, playing pretend medical researcher while your actual doctors just crashed the party.

But any panic about your blown cover vanished when you saw what happened next. The woman who'd run into you had frozen in place as Dr. Gojo spotted her. The look that passed between them was so intense, so heavy, that you felt like you were intruding just by witnessing it.

"What is that about?" Nobara whispered, gripping your arm as you both watched the scene unfold.

"I don't know." You couldn't tear your eyes away. Gojo had caught up to the woman now, and even from across the room, you could feel the tension between them as they exchanged what looked like a few terse words. Then, just as abruptly as it started, he strode off deeper into the house, leaving her standing there alone.

"Okay, that was weird," Nobara said, still clutching your arm.

You just nodded, feeling strangely unsettled. There was clearly a story there — several stories, probably — but you weren't sure you wanted to know any of them. Something about the whole interaction felt too private, like you'd stumbled onto a scene you weren't meant to witness.

Then Suguru moved towards the woman, the crowd parting before him. When he reached her, his hand came up to her face with a gentleness that felt like a knife between your ribs, thumb brushing against her cheek.

The pieces clicked together then with nauseating clarity. This was her. Dr. Gojo's girlfriend—student—or whatever she was. She was probably also the woman from the phone call at the art exhibition, the one whose voice had made Suguru drop everything.

Watching them, seeing how his fingers lingered on her skin, made something twist uncomfortably in your stomach.

It was ridiculous. You had no right to feel this way. He wasn't yours to want, wasn't yours to miss. Hell, he was barely more than your doctor, even if the memory of his hands on you in that bar bathroom still burned.

Then, as if pulled by the weight of your stare, his eyes met yours across the room. For one endless moment, the party dissolved into white noise. His hand dropped from the woman's face, and something unreadable flickered across his features before he tore his gaze away.

The moment shattered like glass, leaving you standing there with your stained shirt and a mess of feelings you didn't want to examine too closely. Nobara was saying something beside you, but her words seemed to come from very far away.

You couldn't look away as Suguru turned back to the woman, his posture now stiff and controlled. She kept glancing between him and Gojo with wounded eyes, and Suguru looked at her with such longing, and somehow that felt like a punch in the gut to witness.

"Hey," Nobara's voice cut through your spiral, her eyes falling to the stain on your shirt. "Want to try washing it out?"

You nodded.

─────── ౨ৎ ───────

Nobara steered you away from the scene, her grip on your arm somewhere between protective and worried. You let her guide you through the crowd, grateful for the excuse to escape. Behind you, you could still feel the weight of everything you'd witnessed pressing against your spine.

The bathroom was one of those stupidly luxurious ones rich people have in their houses. All marble counters and fancy hand towels. The lights were almost too bright, making you squint at your reflection in the stupidly large mirror.

"Okay, take it off," Nobara commanded, already wetting paper towels. "We'll see if we can save this thing."

You pulled your shirt over your head with shaky fingers, trying not to think about the last time you'd taken off clothing in a bathroom. Trying harder not to think about whose hands had helped you then.

"So," Nobara said, her tone deliberately casual as she worked on your shirt at the sink. "Want to talk about whatever that was back there?"

"What what was?"

She shot you a look that could have stripped paint. "Oh, I don't know, maybe the way you were looking at that guy from before like he'd personally betrayed you by touching another woman?"

"I wasn't—" you started, then stopped, because what could you say? That you weren't jealous? That seeing him with her hadn't felt like swallowing broken glass? "It's complicated."

"When isn't it?" Nobara said, scrubbing at the stain. "But seriously, what's going on?"

You sit up on the counter, wrapping your arms around yourself in your camisole, the marble cold against your skin. "Nothing's going on. He's my doctor, sort of. We went to an art exhibition. That's all."

Nobara's hands stilled on your shirt. "You went on a date with your doctor?"

"It wasn't a date," you protested weakly. "It was... I don't know what it was."

"Girl," she said, turning to face you fully. "Normal doctors don't take their patients to art shows. Or look at them the way he just looked at you out there."

"How did he look at me?"

"Like someone who's realizing he's in way over his head." She wrung out your shirt, frowning at the stubborn stain. "Which, by the way, seems to be a mutual problem."

You groaned, letting your head thunk against the wall behind you. "This is such a mess. I don't even know why I'm here. I hate parties. I hate med students. I hate—" You cut yourself off, because finishing that sentence with 'seeing him look at her like that' felt too honest.

"Could be worse," Nobara said, attacking your shirt with the fancy hand dryer mounted on the wall. "You could be the one out there in whatever that drama is." She paused, eyeing you. "Though maybe you already are."

"Can we just focus on the shirt?"

Between the two of you, you managed to get the shirt mostly dry, though the stain had settled into a weird bluish shadow. Better than nothing, you supposed.

"I need to fix my face," Nobara announced, pulling out what looked like an entire Sephora store from her tiny purse. "Want me to do yours too?"

"God, no." You shrugged your shirt back on. "I think I'll head downstairs, get some air or something. Meet you there?"

"Don't do anything stupid without me!" she called after you, already leaning close to the mirror.

You slipped out of the bathroom, heading downstairs the music growing louder with each step. The party had somehow gotten even more chaotic, if that was possible. You weaved through the crowd, trying to find Megumi or Yuji.

And then it happened.

You turned a corner and collided face-first into what felt like a brick wall. A brick wall that smelled like sandalwood cologne and cigarette smoke. Strong hands steadied you before you could stumble backward.

You knew those hands. Knew exactly how they felt against your skin, knew the calluses on those fingers, knew—

"Careful," Suguru's voice rumbled above you, too close and not close enough.

You looked up, immediately wishing you hadn't. But before you could even process the proximity, he tilted your chin up with his fingers — the same hands that had anothers woman's face in them just minutes ago — studying your eyes with sudden clinical intensity.

"You shouldn't be here," he said. "The lights, the noise—"

"What happened to 'hello'?" you interrupted, somewhere between amused and exasperated.

He blinked, his doctor act faltering. Something shifted in his expression, softening around the edges as his hand dropped from your chin but stayed resting lightly against your neck. "Hello," he said, the word carrying a warmth that made your chest tight.

"Hi," you managed, your voice embarrassingly breathy. He still had one hand on your arm. His thumb brushed against your bicep in what might have been an accident but felt like fire through your shirt.

"Are you leaving?"

"No, I just needed some air." You swallowed hard, too aware of how warm his fingers are against your skin. You should step back. Should put some distance between you and the intoxicating heat of him. Should definitely stop staring at his mouth.

"I didn't know you'd be here," you said, which was both true and completely beside the point.

"Neither did I." His eyes dropped to your shirt, narrowing slightly. "What happened?"

"Oh, just someone's drink. A friend of mine helped me clean it." You gestured vaguely upward, toward the bathroom. "Story of my life, really. Can't go anywhere without wearing half of it home."

"First sports bars, now this." A hint of the warmth you remembered crept into his voice. "At this rate, you'll need to start bringing spare clothes everywhere—"

"I haven't forgotten about your shirt!" you said quickly. "I have it washed at home, I just... with everything going on, I kept forgetting to bring it to your office."

"Keep it." His voice dropped lower. "It looked better on you anyway."

Heat rushed to your cheeks at the compliment, and you found yourself stumbling over your words. "I... that's not... I mean—" You stopped, painfully aware of how flustered you sounded.

His words stirred up memories you'd been trying to ignore. Skin against skin, the taste of beer on his lips, the way his fingers had felt inside you. From the way his jaw clenched, like he was physically biting back words, you knew he was remembering too.

"Have you been drinking?" he asked then. "With your medication—"

"No," you cut him off. "I'm being good, Dr. Geto. Just water and my endless talent for attracting stains."

The corner of his mouth twitched, almost a smile. "Good," he said, softer now. "That's... good." But he didn't let go, and you found yourself swaying slightly closer, drawn in by his warmth, by the lingering scent of cigarettes and that cologne that had haunted you since that bathroom.

You stayed suspended like that, neither of you speaking. Not about the woman from before. Not about that night at the bar. Not about how his thumbs were still tracing absent patterns on your skin like he couldn't quite help himself.

His breath ghosted across your face. This close, you could make out every detail — the faint shadow of stubble along his jawline, the tiny flecks of gold in his dark eyes. It would be so easy to just lean in, to close that last bit of distance and—

A burst of laughter from somewhere else shattered the moment. His hands dropped from your arms, leaving cold spots where his warmth had been. He took a step back, running a hand through his hair in a gesture that seemed more nervous than purposeful.

"I should check on—" he started.

"Yeah, of course," you said quickly, wrapping your arms around yourself to fight the urge to reach for him. "Go. I'm just going to..." you gestured vaguely toward nothing in particular.

"Be careful getting home," he said after a pause.

You nodded, not trusting your voice. You watched him disappear into the crowd, and only then did you let out the breath you'd been holding, sagging against the wall.

"So I was thinking—" Nobara's voice floated down the stairs, and you immediately lunged for her, catching her wrist before she could finish whatever mortifying observation was about to leave her mouth.

"Don't," you said, already trying to drag her toward the nearest exit. "Not a word. Not one single word."

"But I just saw—"

"Nope." You tightened your grip on her wrist. "We're not doing this. We're going to find Megumi and get out of here before—"

"Guys!" Yuji's voice cut through the crowd, and suddenly he was there. "Holy shit, you have to come to the backyard right now."

"Yuji, I swear to god if this is about another keg stand—" Nobara started.

"No, no, this is way better," he insisted, already herding you both toward the back door. "Just trust me." Yuji was already pushing through the crowd, leaving you and Nobara no choice but to follow. You stumbled after him, trying to ignore how your skin still tingled from Suguru's touch.

Meanwhile, the backyard had transformed into some kind of arena. As you pushed through the throng of drunk students, you saw why.

She was there — the woman who'd collided with you earlier, the one Suguru had touched with such tenderness. But she was different now, her earlier vulnerability replaced by something sharp as she lined up a shot at the beer pong table. And beside her, of all people, stood Megumi, looking simultaneously out of place and utterly captivated.

Across the table, Gojo made a show of rolling up his sleeves and crossing his arms over his chest. Next to him stood Naoya, practically radiating the kind of entitled confidence that came with old money and too much validation, you thought.

You squeezed through the crowd to get closer to Megumi, catching her mid-sentence as she spoke to him.

"—and honestly, the way you approached the protein degradation problem?" She gestured with her free hand while perfectly arcing a shot across the table. "Brilliant. Though I had questions about the temperature controls in the third trial—"

The ball landed with a soft 'plop' in Gojo's cup. She hadn't even looked.

"Wait," Megumi cut in, actually leaning forward. "You read my paper? The one about molecular preservation in organic compounds?"

"Read it? I've referenced it in my assignment." She lined up another shot. "Your approach could change how we handle long-term storage of biological materials. Though I did wonder about the crystallization patterns in the control group—"

You watched as Megumi's face did something you'd rarely seen. Because Megumi? Megumi was gone. Hook, line, and sinker. All it had taken was one beautiful woman who could discuss molecular restructuring while landing perfect beer pong shots.

You nudged him with your elbow. "Wrong place, wrong time?" you whispered, but he barely registered your existence.

His turn came, and oh god, it was painful to watch. The ball went wide, not even close to the cups. You had to suppress a laugh because you'd never seen Megumi look so unbothered by failing at something.

The woman spun back to him, completely ignoring Gojo's turn. "So what got you thinking about temperature-dependent structural integrity in the first place?" She aimed for another shot. "Because I have some ideas about stabilization methods that might—" Another perfect arc, another splash. "—actually complement what you're working on."

You watched your best friend — your brilliant, antisocial best friend who'd once spent forty minutes explaining why drinking games were "a fundamental degradation of human intelligence" — now hanging on every word from this woman.

And he was smiling. Megumi, the guy who'd rather solve complex equations than make small talk was actually smiling at her talking about molecular bonds between beer pong shots.

"You didn't get dragged into this at all, did you?" you said to him.

"Shut up," he muttered, but his ears were pink and his eyes never left her as she lined up another shot.

"Oh god," Nobara whispered beside you. "I think Megumi's in love."

Then you let your eyes wander, and through the crowd you saw him. Suguru stood between the two teams, hands in his pockets, looking like every ethical violation happening before him was physically paining him. His jaw was set, shoulders tense, desperately trying very hard to pretend none of this was happening.

You had to bite your lip to hold back a smile at how adorably stressed he looked, like a substitute teacher whose class had spiraled completely out of control, and somehow, as if sensing your amusement, his eyes found yours across the sea of people.

Your chest did that stupid flutter thing again, the one you really needed to stop happening every time he looked at you like that.

He shook his head slightly, a silent 'can you believe this?' that made the chaos around you fade for just a moment — the shouting crowd, Megumi's awkward academic flirting — all of it dimmed compared to the way Suguru was looking at you.

But then Megumi actually landed a shot, and the crowd erupted. When you looked back, Suguru had turned away, deep in conversation with another professor next to him. You tried to ignore those weird feelings in your stomach, especially when the woman he was clearly in love with stood just feet away. What right did you have to feel this way? To want his attention when she was right there? It was selfish. It really was.

You turned back to the game just as Megumi launched into another scientific discussion. "—if we adjust the temperature coefficient during the initial—" A ping pong ball sailed between them, deliberately catching Megumi's shoulder.

Gojo stood there, all fake innocence. "Are we really doing molecular whatever at a party? Really?"

Across the crowd, you watched Suguru pinch the bridge of his nose, looking like he was questioning every life choice that had led him to this moment. But then Naoya brought out the tequila and challenged them to drink more, and the playful atmosphere curdled into something else entirely. Something heavier.

More shots appeared. The laughter got louder, sharper, meaner.

Nobara pressed closer to your side. "This is about to go sideways."

The woman matched them drink for drink, but while others started swaying, her aim stayed deadly precise. It was almost unnerving — you wondered how any of them were still standing, let alone hitting targets.

Then it happened. When she sank another perfect shot into Gojo's cup and he drained it like water, something shifted in the air. She put one leg up on the edge of a beer crate, hiking up her skirt. The crowd went completely silent as she sprinkled cinnamon on her thigh, just above where her stockings ended.

The air felt suddenly thick, charged with something uncomfortable. Gojo stalked around the table toward her, and you wanted to look away but couldn't. It felt wrong to watch, invasive, like walking in on something raw and private that was never meant for an audience.

When Gojo dropped to his knees before her, you finally managed to tear your eyes away — only to catch Suguru's expression. God, you wished you hadn't. The raw hurt that flashed across his face felt like a punch to your gut. He turned away, disappearing into the dark garden beyond the fairy lights.

The crowd erupted in cheers and whistles, but all you could hear was static. Your skin felt too tight, your chest too hollow. The party pressed in from all sides, suffocating, while that image of Suguru's face played on loop in your head.

Next to you, Megumi had become intensely fascinated with his shoelaces, while Nobara looked like she'd witnessed a car crash in slow motion. Something had shifted, tilted off its axis. What had started as fun had twisted into something else entirely.

You needed air, space, anything to escape the sudden wrongness of it all. You murmured something about needing air to your friends and slipped away from the crowd, following the path Suguru had taken into the garden.

You found him in a shadowed corner, far from the main paths. His cigarette glowed like a firefly in the dark, smoke trailing upward as he exhaled toward the sky.

He must have heard you approach, but he didn't move. You stepped closer, careful to make your presence known, giving him every chance to tell you to leave. When he stayed silent, you settled beside him.

"You okay?" The words came out barely louder than a breath.

"I'm fine." His voice was rough, like the smoke had scraped it raw.

"Okay." You tipped your head back, studying the stars. They were clearer here, away from the party's glow. "Well, I'm just going to stand here and count stars for a bit."

"You don't have to do that."

"Do what?" You kept your eyes fixed upward, letting him have his privacy. "I'm just stargazing. You happened to find the best spot."

Silence fell. More smoke spiraled skyward. You stayed quiet, true to your word, as if watching stars was all you'd come out here to do. As if you hadn't followed him because seeing him hurt made something in your chest ache.

Just two people, looking up at the same sky, sharing the same quiet corner of a chaotic night. If he needed to pretend that's all it was, you could give him that.

"You know," you said, gazing up at the hazy Tokyo sky. "Van Gogh painted 'Starry Night' from an asylum window. Could only see Venus from his room, had to imagine the rest. Afterwards he wrote those frantic letters to his brother complaining that he made Venus way too big in the painting, he could never quite let go of that."

Suguru looked over at you. "Is that so?"

"Mhmm. Also, did you know that he used to eat yellow paint because he thought it would make him happy from the inside out?"

You caught the slight twitch of his lips in the darkness. "You're making that up."

"I swear I'm not! He also tried to drink turpentine once. His doctor had to physically stop him." You were fully animated now, warming to the subject. "Though considering this is the same guy who gave his severed ear to a prostitute as a Christmas gift, the paint-eating thing seems almost reasonable."

"Please tell me that's a joke."

"Oh no, for real! But there are even weirder stories about artists. Like there's this issue about whether Vermeer used some kind of prehistoric camera. Like talent wasn't enough of an explanation for his paintings." You rolled your eyes. "My personal favorite theory is that Vermeer was actually a fraud and his daughter did all the paintings. Oh, and don't get me started about the conspiracy that Salvador Dalí's mustache was actually fake."

"Now I know you're making this up."

"I swear I'm not! Art history is wild!"

Finally, a real laugh escaped him — just a quiet thing, but real, the sound startling in the quiet garden. You watched his shoulders finally relax, the tension leaving his face.

"Ah, there it is," you said quietly.

"There's what?"

"That smile. Been wondering if you'd lost it completely."

He shook his head, but the smile lingered. "You're something else, you know that?"

Your eyes drifted to the cigarette dangling from his fingers. "Those things will kill you, you know," you said. "I hear there's this really demanding profession called 'doctor' that keeps warning people about that."

"Is that so?" he mused. "Must have missed that particular lecture."

You studied him for a moment before saying, "Want to talk about it?"

He blew out a stream of smoke, watching it disappear into the darkness. "It's nothing."

"Right. Because all the cool doctors hang out alone in gardens, smoking and looking sad."

That got you another smile, smaller this time. "Careful, Attorney. Your sarcasm is showing."

"Better than your deflection."

Silence fell between you again. Music from the party drifted through the garden, muffled and dreamlike. You waited, letting him choose whether to fill the quiet or let it be.

Finally, he spoke, his voice rough. "It's just—" He crushed out his cigarette beneath his shoe, watching the ember die. "Watching them hurt each other, then somehow find their way back together. Over and over. Like they can't help themselves." His fingers twitched toward his pocket, probably for another cigarette, but he stopped himself.

He raked a hand through his hair, leaving it messier than before. "And I can't... I can't fix it. Any of it. I'm just standing there, watching it all fall apart."

You shifted closer until your shoulder brushed his, offering what comfort you could. "Maybe it's not yours to fix."

He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "That's the problem, isn't it? I've spent so long trying to fix things for him, for them both. And now—"

"Now you're caught between them," you said softly, "still trying to fix things while being left out."

"Something like that." He turned to look at you then, really look at you. "When did you get so wise about all this?"

You shrugged. "Oh, you know, all those stupid law books."

He huffed out a sound that might have been almost a laugh, then grew serious again. "They deserve better than this," he said quietly, almost to himself. "Both of them."

"So do you."

The words hung between you, weightier than intended. When he turned to look at you again, something in his expression made your heart stutter. The fairy lights caught in his eyes, turning them to liquid gold at the edges.

"Here," he murmured, voice dropping to that deep tone that seemed to vibrate through your chest. "You've got..." His hand moved toward your face, hovering for a heartbeat before his thumb brushed your cheek with impossible gentleness. "Eyelash."

You forgot how to breathe. "Gone?"

"Almost." He leaned closer, thumb tracing another whispered path across your cheekbone. "There."

But neither of you moved away. His gaze dropped to where his thumb had just been, lingering there as a shiver ran through you — from the night air or his proximity, you couldn't tell. Goosebumps raised along your arms, and his eyes caught it.

His fingers drifted down your arm, barely touching, following the trail of raised skin. That ghost of contact only made you shiver harder. You heard his sharp intake of breath, felt it in the charged space between you, and inhaled that faint cigarette smoke that still lingered on his lips.

"You taste like smoke," you whispered, immediately wanting to take the words back. Smell, not taste — as if you already knew.

"Sorry," he murmured, but instead of pulling away, he swayed closer, like you were both being pulled together by gravity itself. His free hand came up to cup your face, thumb brushing along your jaw in a way that made you dizzy.

"Don't be."

The moment hung suspended, everything beyond your small circle of garden fading to watercolor blurs. There was just his hands on your skin, the barely-there space between you, and then — his lips found yours.

He kissed you achingly gentle at first, as if afraid you might shatter. He tasted like smoke and wine and something underneath that was purely him. For a heartbeat, the world condensed to just this — the soft press of his mouth, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin, the night wrapping around you like silk.

But even as you melted into him, you could feel it — the shadow of her lingering between you, all his unspoken love for her. It was there in the slight trembling of his hands, the bitter edge beneath the sweetness of his kiss, the way he touched you like he was trying to convince himself of something.

Then his fingers slid into your hair, and rational thought scattered. This wasn't like that desperate night at the bar. This was slower, deeper, deliberate, like he was trying to memorize every sigh, every shiver, learning exactly how you wanted to be kissed.

You knew you should stop this. He was carrying a torch that burned too bright to ignore, loving someone who wasn't you. But his hands felt so right against your skin, his mouth moving against yours with a tenderness that made thinking impossible.

Instead of pulling away, you drew him closer, fingers curling into his jacket. He made a sound low in his throat, surprise or surrender, you weren't sure. Didn't want to know.

The kiss deepened, turned hungry. Your back hit something solid, a wall maybe, you didn't care enough to check. His hands cradled your face now, thumbs stroking your cheeks as he kissed you like he was trying to forget something, or someone.

Then suddenly he was gone, backing away so quickly you nearly stumbled. His breathing came ragged, matching your own. In the dim light, you could see the conflict written across his face.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have—"

You knew this was wrong. Everything about it screamed mistake — he was older, more experienced and he was your doctor, technically, and let's not forget he's clearly in love with someone else. Tomorrow, in the harsh light of day, you'd probably both regret this.

But right now? Right now you wanted to be selfish. Wanted to pretend, just for tonight, that his hands on your skin meant something more than escape. That when he looked at you with those dark eyes, he was seeing you and not her shadow.

And was it really that wrong to be selfish, just this once? To take something you wanted without overthinking every consequence? Everyone else seemed to do whatever they pleased, why shouldn't you?

You closed the distance between you, hands finding his jacket collar once more. "Don't think," you whispered, pulling him down to meet you. "Just... don't think."

For once in your life, you decided to take something you wanted, consequences be damned. Tomorrow could take care of itself.

He resisted for half a heartbeat, then surrendered with a groan that made your knees weak. This time when he kissed you, there was nothing gentle about it. He walked you backward until stone met your back again, one hand bracing against the wall beside your head.

Your fingers wound into his hair as he pressed closer, until you could feel every line of him against you. The solid weight of him made the world spin. When he lifted you, it felt natural to wrap your legs around his waist, letting him pin you more firmly against the wall.

His hand slid under your thigh, grip steady and sure. Every point of contact between you felt electric, dangerous, wrong — and yet too good to stop.

But god, the way he touched you made it impossible to think straight. Every rational argument dissolved under the heat of his hands, the pressure of his body against yours. You were playing with fire and you knew it. But maybe you wanted to burn.

When you broke apart for air, his eyes were dark enough to drown in. For a moment, you both stayed frozen like that, breathing hard, balanced on the knife's edge of something stupid.

"We shouldn't," he said, but his fingers only tightened their grip.

You leaned in, lips brushing his ear. "Maybe we should find somewhere more private," you breathed, feeling the shudder that ran through him. "Like a bedroom."

His grip on your thigh tightened. He pressed his forehead to the wall beside your head, harsh breaths hot against your neck. The hand by your head curled into a fist against the stone.

"My place isn't far," he said roughly. When he met your eyes again, there was something vulnerable in his gaze. "But are you sure about this?"

Instead of answering, you traced slow kisses along his jaw, feeling the scratch of stubble against your lips. The sound that escaped him was almost pained.

"I meant here."

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

author's note — thank you all for your continued patience and support with this slow update story :')) i've added a "previously" section at the beginning to help you keep track of the narrative, maybe? idk, i'd love to hear if you find this helpful.

sooo this chapter dove deeper into the growing complications between our characters as their lives start to tangle together. i had so much fun writing the crossover between the remedies and reasons and symptoms and causes storylines, even though handling two timelines of the same events nearly broke my brain.

also thank u to that one anon who reminded me that r&r reader still has suguru's shirt (would have totally forgotten about it).

& quick note about the alcohol consumption in this story: while it's serve the narrative of the story, please remember that alcohol is toxic to the body and brain, with no "safe" amount. please be mindful of your health and wellbeing.

and lastly, thank you so so much for reading. all your messages, comments, and reblogs mean the world to me, like really, seeing your theories and those long analysis messages absolutely makes my day !! i read every single one even if i don't always get to reply. thank you for supporting this story and being patient with my updates <3

ps: if you want to get notifications for future updates, you can join my taglist here !

tags — @sugurora @manhattanstrawberry @rosso-seta @shoruio @paolarox01

@depressedemosantaclaus @myahfig4 @starlightanyaaa @theelegantpotato @panteramarron

@saurondriell @starmapz

330 notes · View notes

lo1k-diamonds · 3 months ago

Text

Be as it must 💜 Part 1

“They think omegas are extinct, but that doesn’t stop them from looking.”

PAIRING: Alpha!Jungkook x Omega(f)reader

SUMMARY: It’s hard being an omega in a world where they've all but disappeared, but you're safe as long as you stay under the radar. You might be risking it a little bit by working for the Jeon Family, an alpha ruling family, but they have no idea about you. What happens when you're found and taken to your boss, CEO Jeon Jungkook?

WORD COUNT: 3.7 k

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

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: anxiety, kidnapping, tension, mentions of abuse

A.N. Alright, let's get this party on the road 💜 There are so many Easter eggs and details in this part to kickoff things with the right foot 👀 A huge thank you to @moonleeai for helping me with every little detail, which I appreciate so much!! 🥰

Masterlist | Masterpost | AO3 | Wattpad | Next Chapter >

“Good morning. I'd like ube bubble tea, please.”

“Name?”

You smiled, giving the barista your nickname instead before paying and moving away to wait.

It was not yet past 9 AM, but you couldn’t help grabbing your work phone and activating the mobile data. Even though you'd be in the office in ten minutes, it couldn't hurt to already have an idea of what awaited you.

There was no surprise with the amount of notifications popping up; so many so fast, the expensive device froze for a second. You smirked as you reviewed the messages sent through the office’s private chats, then scrunched up your nose at a few more serious emails. But as you dismissed one notification after the other, taking mental notes of what you should do first, one message made you topple all over yourself when you thumbed it away.

What was that?

CEO Jeon Jungkook is expecting you for a one-on-one call at 9:30 AM.

Your eyes widened impossibly, your perfectly manicured nails carding through your long hair for a moment. What did you just read?!

You opened a private chat with your team director, and your mentor, Yoon Minsik, and sent him a screenshot of the text message.

You scoffed in disbelief; you couldn’t believe this was on the table again. Still, what was baffling was that the CEO himself wanted to talk to you about it. It was so ludicrous; it was nonsensical.

You started typing furiously to tell your mentor that he should have handled your rejections to move away with more grace when someone called your nickname for what sounded like the hundredth time.

You turned around on your high heels, your perfectly styled hair falling in long dark waves behind your shoulder over a white silk blazer. The barista staggered, looking at you above her eyeglasses with parted lips, before she blinked and hurried to bow and extend your ube bubble tea.

You were about to smile and thank her for her service when she tripped and lounged forward, scaring you into instinctively grabbing her forearm to keep her steady. Fortunately, she was smaller than you, and since the drink was closed, your white suit was purple-stain free.

Still, the barista fell apart in apologies and bows that left you baffled.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. No harm done, see?” You wished the people around you would stop staring and making her feel bad; it made the air too pungent for your sensitive nose. She reminded you of a younger you, going through part-time jobs to push you through law school. “Thank you for your kindness.”

You made sure to bow and smile at her properly to put her at ease before heading to your office with a rushed pace. You couldn’t risk being late, even if you already knew your answer to the CEO’s proposal.

The expansion of the Jeon conglomerate into Seoul was but a small reflection of the success the company was finding overseas. It made it impossible not to expand to the capital and, naturally, most of the executive and legal teams followed.

Only you had said no at the time, and again just yesterday, when your mentor brought it up again. He should have known better than to go directly to the CEO about something like this. You had no special rapport with the CEO; you were just part of the team that handled multiple international agreements, and you represented the company whenever necessary. You had been told the CEO resented not having his top legal representative more “at hand”, but you doubted he was even aware of your existence. Your work gave prestige to the Busan branch, and you were proud of it. You had even suggested training someone to take functions similar to yours in Seoul. That was still your answer — you’d help out in any way, but there was nothing that could convince you to go to Seoul.

You admitted you never thought you’d sway on that decision, not in a million years. But you had also never imagined someone like CEO Jeon Jungkook, and just looking at him, you thought you could be convinced. When you entered the video call with him, you were expecting a short five-minute call in which anything could happen, from a dismissive “I thought I’d give it a shot”, to “You either do it or you’re fired.” You were ready for both, as adamant as you were about your position. Yet, neither happened.

He entered the call despite clearly needing time to finish a conversation with someone in the room, so you observed him while they talked on mute. His shoulders were wide, framed by a dark blazer that made him look the size of the world. His eyes were dark, introducing a harshness with his eyebrows as he debated something he clearly disagreed on with his interlocutor. His dark hair reached his eyes, falling on what you realized were soft features. CEO Jeon Jungkook was incredibly good-looking, making the blood rush to your cheeks in an instant.

You swallowed and tried looking away, grabbing a notebook and a pen just in case you needed to take notes. Unfortunately, it didn’t give you much reprieve; your eyes found their way to his neck, thick with a prominent Adam’s apple. As he craned his head to look at something behind the camera, your eyes trailed happily down his throat to his collar bone, where a couple of open buttons revealed perfectly bronzed skin—

You cleared your voice and started scribbling the date on the notebook; anything to keep you from staring. It didn’t last long; a deep voice invaded your ears through your AirPods, “I apologize for the delay. Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.”

Your mind blanked as you stared at the screen with currents of warm, ticklish electricity running down your spine.

That was his voice. You could barely pay attention to what he was saying, which was so exceptional, it was unthinkable. His looks weren’t the issue; your whole body was trying to pinpoint something, and not necessarily his figure. It was as though you were a radio, turning the knob to fine-tune the right frequency. One you knew was yours to attune to, you just needed a bit more—

“So I wanted your opinion on the matter quickly before we meet in twenty minutes.”

You straightened your shoulders, and nodded, shaking those thoughts away. Your boss had a work-related request, and you obliged immediately.

While you resumed the current status of the agreement with an American company looking to use Jeon facilities to carry out research and development of a few products the Jeon conglomerate wanted priority access to, CEO Jeon Jungkook listened intently. You were used to talking and being met with skepticism or even indifference, especially by older stakeholders, who didn’t always respect a young woman in such a pivotal role in your department. Yet, the CEO was listening to you with utmost seriousness, as if every word out of your mouth was worth his time and attention.

Because it was; he hadn't achieved his current level of success at such a young age without being highly skilled and intelligent, just like you. You gave him the run-down of the situation and brainstormed with him possibilities that could be included in the agreement with ease. It was frankly refreshing; not too often, you had to waste time reminding board members of concrete information, boundaries, and laws that they should be aware of. Jeon Jungkook wasn’t there to waste your time or to scoff at your input; he was there to obtain advice on the best course of action, and it tranquilized you.

It impressed you, also. For someone only two years younger than you, he was phenomenal. Though, you didn’t forget what he was. You wondered if the reason why you couldn’t take your eyes off him and nearly stopped breathing to hear him attentively was because he was an alpha. You could only guess; to your knowledge, no one at the company knew of him or the Jeon family, and you had no way of knowing if you should feel any type of way about him.

According to your mother, you should. When you first started working for the Jeon conglomerate, she had almost lost her mind, wailing about the sacrifices your ancestors made to keep your family safe, only for you to work right under one of the Families. At the time, you knew better than to scoff at her; after all, you had already presented. It was a hard period for you, having grown up with stories the world told you were make-belief, only to turn eighteen and suddenly feel unexplainable things. The worst was that your sense of smell had evolved, picking up on the faintest scent. If humans could make the air change so quickly based on their emotions, you could only imagine how an alpha could influence a whole room, especially for you.

In the end, your mother had to admit that the Jeon family was too prestigious and far away to ever come into contact with you. That meant that Jeon Jungkook had never met you until now, despite your extensive work at his company. You were the middle person, the worker behind the scenes, writing the proposals, discussing, and bringing things to life. Yoon Minsik or other Seoul-based lawyers would be the ones to appear at formal events when things were done, which you didn’t mind as long as you stayed in Busan. Safe.

So Jeon Jungkook had no idea about you.

Still, he sighed when you finished talking and leaned on his right side as he seemed to debate something with himself. “I must confess Yoon Minsik didn’t do you justice.”

“I’m sorry?”

You blinked, caught off guard. He had a meeting in five minutes; you were expecting him to say his farewells.

“I knew the Busan team was holding someone exceptional, but Yoon Minsik should have warned me sooner. No one in this office can synthesize, analyze, and keep a high level of scrutiny like you just did on such short notice and in so little time. Not with me, at least.”

You didn’t answer, opting for a silent moment to process what he just said. It was surely praise, but you were not about to belittle your Seoul colleagues by agreeing. You also didn’t want to sell yourself; you were happy where you were. Finally, you had to stop your chest from swelling with pride. CEO Jeon Jungkook was telling you in so many words that you matched him skillswise, which was incredibly validating. He was also incredible, if you could say so yourself.

He glanced at the edge of the screen, then leaned forward, “Your talents are wasted in the Busan office. Come work with me in Seoul.”

Your cheeks blushed furiously as your body overreacted to his request. Fortunately, your makeup was perfect that morning, and so you could trust he had no clue how much he affected you.

“I’m undoubtedly flattered by your incredible remarks and for such an amazing opportunity, but I must politely decline.”

Your answer was automatic, even though your eyes watered, and your voice didn’t hide a tinge of emotion. You were touched by the proposition, by the whole ordeal, really. But nothing could change your mind.

He pursed his lips, “Is there something about this office you dislike? Something you’d like to request? I’m listening.”

Your heart raced in your chest and you swallowed. Your mind whipped out an impossible thought while you glanced at the clock — 9:58 AM. When you looked back at him, you were almost shocked; he was at ease, just looking at you. As though he didn’t have another meeting in two minutes. As though you weren’t a replaceable piece in the system. As though he actually was willing to stay there with you and negotiate the conditions that would change your mind and bring you to his side.

You swallowed dryly again, “The office is great; like I said, it’s an amazing opportunity. I just don’t wish to be uprooted.”

A few seconds ticked by in silence while you waited for those soft features to twist into petulance or anger at the rejection.

But then his lips pulled in a crooked smile, and you just knew he was amused, maybe even impressed by your resilience.

“It’s a shame, and an incredible loss for this office. But I don’t plan on doing without you from here on out. Thank you for your time, talk soon.”

He bowed, and you hurried to do the same through your bewilderment, and in seconds the call was cut. You were left breathless and a little stupefied by CEO Jeon Jungkook.

You weren’t sure how to feel about today.

As you shut the front door of your apartment with your heart in your throat and disheveled hair from running, you leaned your back on it as if your weight could stop whoever was chasing you from breaking it down.

Your first instinct was to push the camera button to see outside your apartment and of your apartment building, but it was all normal and quiet. Slowly, your heart calmed as you stared endlessly into such a peaceful and unmoving image, you wondered if it had been hacked to play on a loop.

But then you scoffed and reasoned with yourself; that’s just an exaggeration. This whole thing was. This whole day was.

First, the CEO of your conglomerate all but interviewed you and tried to negotiate you changing offices to Seoul. Just that implausibility could have made that day already sound bonkers.

But then, because you had taken the metro that day, you had to walk a bit home, and you were almost snatched.

You swallowed, getting your heels off. That was exactly what it was — a car had stopped next to you on the street and two men had tried to grab you and push you inside. They must have been coordinated, because the men were following behind you, and the car knew exactly when and where to stop. Still, the nearing car alerted you, so as soon as you felt someone behind you, you were ready to fight. You struggled and managed to slip through their fingers, instantly running to a very busy street nearby. You knew no one would help you even if they saw it, but you were hoping it would deter them at least.

You ran straight home; you hoped they didn’t follow you.

You went all the way to your fridge, grabbed a soju bottle in your shaky hands, then turned on the TV to create background noise. You were nervous, trembling, and you needed normalcy to calm down. The familiar sound of a journalist reporting the news allowed you to down half a bottle in a go before heaving a long sigh straight from your soul.

Abductions weren’t common, but men or cults were known for unorthodox methods like those. You tried to shrug it off as being in the wrong place at the wrong time, but it wasn’t enough. The news wasn’t enough, either. So you grabbed your phone and called your mother.

“Hi, my butterfly. How’s my precious daughter?”

She instantly started going on about what she was doing and her day, and you finally closed your eyes with a sense of normalcy. You managed to switch clothes while she talked, then went over the small and less impactful moments of your day for obvious reasons — the Jeon alpha and the almost abduction situations would just worry her terribly.

But then the TV reporter started speaking on a piece about a series of attacks targeting women in Busan, and you reached for the remote to increase the volume. Your mother kept talking, none the wiser, while you listened to the piece and noticed the similarities to what happened to you: men followed them on the street, shoved them into a car, asked a bunch of questions, touched them inappropriately, and then let them go.

Your mind was going over the motive of such a weird event when your breath caught. On the screen, the interview of one of the victims shocked you — it was the barista from this morning, eyeglasses and all.

Your alarms went off. “Mom…” you interrupted. “I need to tell you something.”

You started by commenting on what the reporter was saying, talking about the events happening locally, and your mother scoffed bitterly, “I told you not to move to the city.”

“It’s just Busan,” you argued, tired of that same old discussion.

“Even Busan is too big! Big cities are hunting grounds for—”

“Do you think that’s what this is?” You asked more sternly, wanting her opinion without freaking her out.

“Yes,” she sighed, knowing her daughter was dismissive of the subject. “It sounds like they’re scenting people.”

“What?”

“Hunting for omegas.”

You bit your lip for a second, still hesitating, “And why do you think that is, all of a sudden?”

She hummed, “They think omegas are extinct, but that doesn’t stop them from looking.”

You sighed with exasperation; this was serious, “You think they’re hunting ghosts and risking lawsuits?”

“These Families don’t need to worry about petty things like lawsuits! You should know that!”

You groaned, rubbing your face. You had misstepped and given her even more reasons to be agitated, and she didn’t know the half of it yet.

“An omega is a powerful tool to exert control. Remember the legends? Seven great Families once controlled the nation—”

“Yeah, yeah, omegas disappeared and now there are only four families,” you wrapped up dismissively. You didn’t care about snobs or hierarchies, not even in what concerned your disconcerting CEO. You cared where that left you.

“Whether you want to bury your head in the sand or not, it’s still very much true. The four Families have four unmated alphas, it’s a wonder they didn’t start searching sooner.”

“You think this is them?” you probed, biting down your nail.

“Or someone who knows how valuable such a person can be.”

You scoffed, “How would they even know who is an omega?”

“Some are trained to pick up the rarest of scents. Don’t forget how invaluable—”

“Right, right,” you dismissed, hiding your eyes from the TV and the world. You could still see the barista giving her testimony to the journalist; there was no dismissing it anymore. Your mother was making too much sense, paranoia be damned.

“Whatever Family gets their hands on one will get the upper hand.”

“This is fucking ridiculous,” you burst in a low hiss, angry at the world. You were not a tool or bargaining chip.

“You say that because you don’t know. You don’t know what it’s like to be in a room full of alphas, the power that—”

“Nor do I want to,” you grumbled. “Do I have a reason to worry?”

Your mother’s tone was surprisingly calm, “No, I don’t think so. Our family is not in the registry, they have no way of tracking you down. Why?”

You went over the episode briefly so as not to shock her too much, though to no avail. “Mom…” you tried, but she didn’t stop her litany of I told you so. “There’s something else.”

You had to tell her about the barista because to you, that was the nail in the coffin. You were pragmatic and knew the law; regardless of the Families’ standing, you didn’t believe they were above it. Maybe they did hunt for omegas in order to gain advantage over each other, you couldn’t be certain. Realistically, alleging such things would get you nowhere, and you were living under the radar, staying away from the capital where most betas and alphas migrated decades ago. But the barista changed everything. Because you went to that café almost every day and this time, you had touched her. You could have left your scent behind.

It was just too much of a coincidence that the two things happened the same day.

“You need to leave.”

Your mom’s tone dropped, hinting at an incontestable seriousness. You still tried, “You said I’m not in the registry.”

“Yes, but we can’t risk it!”

You groaned, “What the hell will they do? Kidnap me?”

“Yes!” You pursed your lips this time. “You’ll be seen as a tool! And we don’t have the means to protect you!”

You rubbed your eyes but agreed, “I… I think I can go to Seoul for a while. For work. I know,” you continued, with a hint of frustration. “It’s the worst place to go, but I have my life, my work. I can't just disappear. Maybe if I leave for a week or so, it will be enough to throw them off.”

Your mother wasn’t convinced, but she was reasonable — you could leave tomorrow and ask for vacation as soon as possible to maybe travel and lay low for a while.

It was nerve-wracking, but you were willing to do anything to stay safe and hidden. To stay autonomous and live freely, to not be used as leverage in power games that deemed you a worthless pawn. You just wanted to live your life, regardless of your blood or status.

You had a plan, so after booking a flight and a hotel room, and messaging your mentor about the sudden change of plans, you were able to sleep a few hours. Because you wanted to work the next day, you had an early flight that allowed you to arrive and get ready before starting within normal working hours.

That was how you left, waiting for a taxi in front of your building when the sun wasn't even up. And that was how you were shoved inside a car when you were distracted, and finally taken.

345 notes · View notes

aethelwyneleigh27 · 3 months ago

Text

Our Throne of Ruin

Chapter One: Blood-Stained Hand of a Royal

Plus-size/Chubby afab! fem! Princess!Reader x Villain!Simon

Warnings and Disclaimers: Violence, Assault, and Attempted Sexual Assault?? (Not by Simon, it is disgusting and uncomfortable so please do not continue if you have a faint heart), Gore, Severed Body Parts, Decapitation.

Genres: Romance, x Reader Insert, Alternate Universe, Dark Fantasy, Fantasy AU, Royalty AU, Villain AU, Arranged Marriage, Dark Romance??

Throne Of Blood and Ruin Playlist <3

My CoD Masterlist and Series Masterlist <3

If you prefer to read it in Wattpad's format (Please leave comments) <3

Next Chapter

"My lady, these appear to be exceedingly valuable," Leticia, your young handmaiden, exclaimed breathlessly as she held up the ruby-encrusted silver earrings against your ears to see how they would look on you.

"I'm certain the lord who dispatched it desires a royal womb for their heirs," you said with a scoff, rolling your eyes, as you favored jewelry received as genuine gifts over bribes.

Leticia offered a simple smile, setting aside the jewelry she held into the untouched box, and instead, she searched for the ones you favored most… gold, diamonds, and pearls.

Earrings that match the pearls and gold details on the bodice of your dress perfectly, complemented by a crown crafted from the same materials as the jewels dangling from your ears.

Your senior handmaiden, Agatha, attempted to kneel and place your walking jewelry on your feet.

"Agatha! What are you doing?" you exclaimed, though the answer was clear to you. Before she could reply, you interjected, "No, please. I appreciate your willingness to serve, but don't kneel; it could injure you."

With a sigh, you stood from your vanity seat and helped her to her feet. She responded with a smile brimming with thankfulness.

"As kind and caring as ever, Your Highness," she said, lifting the small basin filled with rosewater to wash your hands, then gently wiping them with a white cloth dampened in the scented water.

The gods are aware that the woman has aged gracefully, yet there's concern she may injure herself with the relentless demanding tasks handmaidens endure. You slip on your shoes while Leticia unravels your hair from the curling cloths.

"What would you like done with your hair, my lady?"

"Pearls, Leticia…" you murmured, gazing into the mirror.

Once your handmaidens had finished preparing you, Leticia suggested a leisurely walk. She knew you might use this as the perfect opportunity to have an encounter with those vying for affection.

With a light melody on your lips, you wandered the castle's ramparts with an air of freedom.

You turn to a corner to find a man, only you could assume was a contender as well. Dressed in whatever garb their nation was to consider fashion, he had two knights along either side of him. The way he held himself, you could already tell. How arrogant.

You walked past him without much care to greet him, a test to see how he'd take rejection. He commands his knights to leave him be, striding next to you.

"I must admit I wasn't expecting to be graced with your presence so soon." He said you didn't respond verbally. Instead choosing to raise a brow at his statement, clearly not realizing that he's talking to you far too casually for your liking.

He scoffs, trying to wrap his arm around your shoulder to which you shrugged his hand off. "You reek of ale and brothels" you whispered to yourself as you subtly waved off the smell of his breath from your face.

You felt an almost cracking pain on your wrist as you were yanked back, your eyes widened, he had heard you.

You tried to free yourself but instead, he pulled the clasp and chain of your necklace, effectively choking you with the decorative metal against your skin. You pried your hands between it and your neck, desperately trying to claw his grip off.

The pain was unlike anything you had ever experienced, burning intensely. Your breaths were shallow and frantic. Tears welled up uncontrollably, spilling over.

It felt as though the muffled choking sounds were yours alone as your body convulsed. Your windpipe seemed to be caving under an unyielding grip, with every attempt to breathe met by an impenetrable barrier.

A wet, sloppy tongue dragged across your cheek, leaving a slimy trail that made your skin crawl. The unexpected touch was cold and clammy, like the lick of a serpent, and the stench of sour mixed with the pungent smell of fermented bitterness in his breath lingered in the air.

Your stomach churned with disgust as your body flinched away from his chest which he forcibly pressed against your back. Disgusting bastard, his chuckling fueled your nerves with more anger and fear.

"Pretty, defenseless little princess.." You attempted to protest, but it emerged as nothing more than a feeble whimper.

Someone, help me. Please...

You prayed for the air, for someone...

It wasn't until he was yanked away that you heard a thud, and you began to violently cough, the pressure on your throat finally easing. Collapsing to your knees, you groaned from the sudden pain, crawling away before turning to see what had transpired.

The man who just attempted to assault you on the ground and unconscious as an unrecognizable but broad figure retreated to the shadows out of the corner of your eye, just observing.

All your life, you've felt like s prey to the disgusting eyes of men older than your father, this wasn't new.

"My lady!" The scream of your handmaiden, Leticia, echoed as she rounded the corner in search of you. Panic etched her features, tears brimming at the sight of the redness on your neck.

You deemed it unwise to inform your king of the incident, especially since he was the one attempting to auction you off to a man who fancied himself a god among men.

You dusted your gown off as you instructed Leticia to ask for a tonic at the castle's apothecary, your throat nearly giving out at the soreness.

You had opted to seek solace at your place of worship before continuing through the not-so-exciting festivities your father arranged, despite your attempts to distract yourself, you cannot shake off the feeling of being watched.

Something waiting to pounce at you from within the shadows..

Prayer beads, it wasn't in your pockets.

You continue to pat around your body. "My lady, you seem troubled. Is something amiss?" Leticia asked, concern never leaving her tone since the events that transpired.

"My prayer beads, I must've misplaced or dropped them earlier," You mumbled.

"Oh.." was all she could respond, she knew how cherished that item was to you, being passed down from your mother.

"I'll make sure to find them later on, I swear that on my own mother," she lifted her palm, and a small smile broke from your lips at the promise.

You get up from your knees to set the candle you've lit down on the foot of the monument of the goddess of marriage and fertility, payers inclined to help you find a husband, unlike your father. Hoping your mother will also hear your prayers in the afterlife.

"Leticia, my shawl please" You sighed. She slipped the thin fabric over your exposed shoulders and replaced your colored veil with your earlier embellishments.

...

You composed yourself as well as possible, attempting to breathe steadily and keep your eyes open to avoid flashes of the experience from just a few hours before by picking the skin next to your nails.

Gripping your aching neck, you felt the imprints of the recent assault. As your gaze shifted to the entrance, the massive doors groaned, pushed open by the servants outside.

From the comfort of your cushioned throne, you surveyed the assembly, noting how the sound redirected their attention to the entrance, just as your eyes had done moments before.

The usual commotion and conversation that overlapped one another at such an event died out faster than poison could kill a rat, all sounds replaced by the clanking of metal... most can recognize the hollow sound of armor and the sharp end of a sword scratching the stone floor.

There a familiar broad man stood. You can't quite put your finger on it, but his face is like something out of your dreams, masked with a knight's great helm.

The silence was defending as he left the people speechless or much rather afraid to speak of anything, covered in blood and some flesh stood a stranger.

He made his way in, the crowds of nobles making a path for him as he did. The carpet beneath him somehow cushioning his heavily metal-cladded steps.

Your eyes widened at the sight of the stranger as he got closer, only now seeing what he had by his side while he hastily threw his great helm on the ground to pay his respect in court.

The severed head of the noble who tried to lay a hand on you, holding it by the fistful of hair as the blood from the neck stained the fur carpet below it.

You hear the king beside you as he chokes. He could not control his breathing, seeming to be on the verge of a heart attack.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?! YOU INSOLENT BASTARD, YOU'LL PAY FOR THIS!" One of the nobles in the crowd screamed with much anger, must be his father or a figure of some sort.

The man attempts to lunge at the man in armor but is held back by three of the palace knights. Loud clanking as the lord hit the armored men over and over.

Oddly enough, you weren't terrified after the initial shock. The man that stood before you severed the head of the same man who tried to commit an unforgivable act on you, it was almost poetic in its own way... satisfying even.

He knelt before you instead of your father, much to your surprise. Gasps and murmurs emulated from the nobles and royals present, apart from the screaming guardian of the beheaded suitor.

He had no respect for the head he held as he threw it on the side, having it roll to the king's feet who had no words of offense as he was too shocked to utter anything but silent stuttering.

On one knee the man with blood-soaked presumably light hair remained, his head down, eyes still on the floor. You stood up from your throne, head held high as you walked towards the armored fellow.

The intricate precious metal encrusted with priceless jewels hung on your ears and swayed along with the ones in your hair. The train of your silk gown flows effortlessly behind you.

Your eyes on him at every step, he lifted his gaze from down below onto you, his hand shifting. Uncertain of what to anticipate, you watched as he extended his hand toward you, palm open, the callouses on his fingers beckoning you closer.

You care not for the blood that stained his hand and caked under his nails, so you hesitantly slipped your fingers in his, heart pounding out of your chest as the stranger bathed in blood grinned at seeing your hand in his.

He gripped your hand in the most gentle way you've ever had anyone touch you. He lightly tugged on your arm and let you naturally step closer with his guidance as he brought the back of your hand up to his lips.

You felt his dry yet warm lips on your knuckles, eyes up on you as he looked for approval. You blinked, and for a moment your eyes drifted to the severed head.. its own open but soulless before you reverted your gaze back to the man who has your hand.

With another kiss on your ring, he releases your hand. You gaze at it, noticing how the blood has stained it in an effortlessly abstract pattern.

Breathlessly staring at your hand, now tainted with the filthy blood of one of the bastards who hurt and wronged you. Staring back at you, presenting an opportunity on a silver platter, all just for you...

A/n: I know this series will come more likely with backlash because of the reader's body description being so specific, the gore, and just the general dark fantasy aspect however I find it difficult to write for something I cannot insert myself in as it is where I build my ideas from. I know that the listed warnings are quite dark, but I am new to writing dark fantasy, I know that dark romance is very controversial, but I don't know if this counts as one of them. This is a very long one, and I hope you all enjoy it. Also new dividers from @/cafekitsune, as always 👀

Note: Comment to be in the taglist.

Series Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simping4konig @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @callsignsnowpunisher @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @connorsui @capuccino192 @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @the-second-sage @starryylies @duck-a-doodle @everlastingmoonlightsworld @keiva1000 @drewsmuse @sommii @sleep101 @blueladys-world @myspaceisra

274 notes · View notes

amkyor · 8 days ago

Text

K. BAKUGO SHORT STORY ᡣ𐭩

From Afar, With Love:

Bakugo Katsuki wasn’t the kind of man to wax poetic about his feelings.

He didn’t write long, sappy letters or make grand declarations of love. But when he was away on long hero missions, he found other ways to let you know you were always on his mind.

This particular trip was one of the longest he’d had in a while. He’d been sent overseas to assist with a high-stakes mission, and as much as he thrived in the chaos of hero work, being away from you gnawed at him.

So, he did what he could to bridge the distance.

It started with flowers. A bouquet of light pink tulips—your favorite—arrived at your office on the second day he was gone. Attached to it was a small note in his sharp handwriting:

“Don’t get too comfortable without me. - K.”

You smiled when you read it, already imagining the gruff tone he must’ve used while writing it.

The next day, a box of your favorite chocolates arrived at you and Bakugo's apartment. The delivery guy handed it to you with a slightly nervous expression; apparently, Bakugo’s no-nonsense instructions had made quite an impression.

Inside the box was another note:

“Don’t eat these all at once, dumbass.”

By the third day, you started to notice a pattern. A small velvet pouch appeared next, containing a delicate bracelet with tiny charms that reminded you of the little moments y'all shared—one shaped like a dumbbell for the gym dates, another like an explosion for his quirk.

The note this time was simple:

“So you don’t forget me.”

You laughed, shaking your head. As if you could forget him.

Throughout the week, the gifts kept coming: a book you'd mentioned wanting to read, a hoodie he’d worn and sprayed lightly with his cologne, and even a short video of him grumbling into the camera about how much he missed you.

“I ain’t good at this romantic crap,” he said in the video, scratching the back of his head, “but I miss your stupid face. Don’t let anyone piss you off while I’m gone, got it?”

By the time the mission was over and he returned home, you were already waiting for him at the airport.

When he stepped through the gate, his usual gruff demeanor softened as soon as he saw you. You ran up to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his lips before pulling back to look at him.

“Miss me, huh?” you teased.

He rolled his eyes, though the faint blush on his cheeks betrayed him. “Tch. Don’t get used to it.”

You laughed, leaning you forehead against his. “You’re such a liar. Admit it—you’re a big softie.”

Bakugo sighed, pulling you closer and nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck. “Whatever."

And as your laughter melted into a kiss, he decided that maybe being a little mushy wasn’t so bad—so long as it was for you.

FANFIC RECOMMENDATION ᡣ𐭩

Adult Bakugo x Female Reader

If the link does not work, use the user!!

Wattpad: amkyor

180 notes · View notes

nyctoaerah · 9 months ago

Text

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋

╰┈➤𝐒𝐘𝐏𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐒: Who would've known that the man you spent a night with was the very same man that you're planning to kill? It was a cruel twist of fate, cause as you spent more time with him, you found yourself growing attached-inlove even. But, you ended up knowing the truth about suguru’s death, and the thirst for justice and redemption for Suguru consumed you. The pursuit of absolution drove you to consider any means necessary, even if it meant risking your own well-being, your sanity, your very essence. You were willing to sacrifice everything just to obtain the revenge you so desperately craved, even going as far as to ignore your feelings for Satoru. After all, it doesn't really matter, because Gojo Satoru was yours, he was yours to play with, he was yours to manipulate, and yours to kill, and he’s not complaining about it.

╰┈➤𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: explicit smut, dub-con (kinda since they’re drunk) overstimulation, drunk sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (both m and f receiving), dirty talk, nasty shit all that. Virginity loss.

╰┈➤𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Yandere! Gojo Satoru x Fem! Op! Assassin! Suguru's adopted daughter! Reader

╰┈➤𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: This story is the revamped version of my previous fic “Devil in Disguise” it has the same plot, but this one just has a better story flow in my point of view;) also available in Wattpad and Quotev! Hearts and reblogs are greatly appreciated! I already posted this, but this time, i extended it and actually posted the full smut;33 Also, random fact; Gojo’s fingers are canonically 6 inches;)

╰┈➤𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Next chapter

YOU HAD SOUGHT REFUGE in the confines of a random club, craving the numbness that alcohol promised.

You were hoping that the pulsating music vibrating through your bones and swirling burn of alcohol would drown out the hollow emptiness you were feeling, you wanted to push all of your thoughts aside—to forget about Suguru’s death.

Just that, all you wanted was to drink and feel the buzz.

So how did you find yourself in this compromising position, your body entwined with a random man whose name you didn’t even knew?

How did you end up on his lap, on his bed, making out with him?

The kiss was feverish, your tongue sliding sensually against his, the taste of his mouth was reminiscent of the tangy sweetness of freshly ripened strawberries, yet there’s also this faint tang of alcohol, a flavor lingering from his previous indulgence, perhaps.

A needy whine escaped your lips as your hips undulated against his, seeking greater friction.

“So impatient...” He mumbled as one of his hands gripped your hip to keep you in place, while the other hiked the fabric of your dress up to your waist, exposing your bare skin to his heated touch.

“Can i?”

You whispered, your voice barely audible in the dimly lit room. His breath hitched as your fingers grazed the silk blindfold covering his eyes.

“Do as you please pretty girl. I’m all yours.”

You hooked your fingers beneath the bandages and slowly, reverently, lifted it away, revealing eyes half-lidded and swimming with lust.

Long, white lush lashes framed irises the deep, captivating blue of the ocean. Your breath caught in your throat—he looked so exquisitely, devastatingly beautiful without the concealing fabric—He was already pretty with the blindfold on, but gods was he smokin’ hot without it—You’re not sure if you’re just exaggerating things, but fuck, did he looked ethereal.

His snow-white hair tumbled down to veil his face in a curtain, softening the sharp spiky hairstyle he had when he was wearing a blindfold.

You bit your lip, watching as the rounded bump just under the skin in the front of his throat bobs ever so slightly at your intense gaze. A slight flush heats up on his skin, and you touched it, pressing the pads of your fingers on his skin.

You scarcely had a moment to bask in the sight before he took the discarded blindfold from your hand and let it fall to the floor, forgotten.

His mouth explored the sensitive column of your neck, tongue tracing lazy, meandering paths.

You arched into his touch slightly, wanting for more contact, craving the delicious friction that might ease the aching tension coiled low in your belly.

“You sure that this is what you want princess?” His silky baritone caressed your ear as he pressed open-mouthed kisses along your shoulders.

“I don’t wanna take advantage of you, not when you’re drunk.”

“Mhm.. m’ sure.”

Though the drink had clouded your mind, beneath the shallows of intoxication stirred a deeper craving—something you never felt before, you’re sure that you wanted him.

“I’m not drunk.”

His brows arched in doubt as his hand glides down your spine with practiced care, finding the clasp that holds your dress in place, the clasp yields to his deft fingers, baring your flesh to his exploring gaze.

“Your words say yea, angel, but i don’t want no dubious consent. I want full consent.”

“No, S’ not dubious, you have my full consent.” you murmur, trailing your hands along his neck, tracing the pulsing vein in it before your hands dipped down and slipped beneath the hem of his shirt. Your fingers trace slow circles over his taut abs, feeling the contours of hard muscle and flush skin.

His body was warm, and quite nice, comforting even.

He shivers at your delicate touch—which you found to be quite cute.

You found his words weird, however—It contrasts with his actions, that’s for sure.

“I want you, okay?” you breathed on his ear, eliciting a visible response upon his flesh as shivers caressed his form. He swallowed with effort, aroused yet wary, cognizant of the libations which dulled your inhibitions as his own.

Satoru was in no means a person who likes alcohol, he hates it, infact, however, he ended up drinking, just in hopes to forget about Suguru.

Very much like you so.

But he didn’t really expected that he would end up having a woman on his lap, not that he’s complaining, ofcourse. You’re quite beautiful after all.

“Hey...It’s still dubious, can be counted as non-consensual too. Cause you’re drunk. I don’t wanna take advantage of you, okay?” He said.

You fixated your gaze on him, a brief moment of silent observation passing between you. His movements, though tinged with a subtle languor, was filled with restraint, that surpassed your own faltering self-control.

“Nope.”

you insist softly.

“I’m not drunk.”

His eyes smolder as he considers your flushed cheeks and parted lips.

“Your speech is slurred.”

“Nope, S’just an effect from you,” You replied with a lopsided grin.

“You take my breath away.” You mumbled, prompting him to blink owlishly down at you.

“Random as fuck.” He chuckled.

“But, i’ll take it. Just tell me to stop and i’ll stop, yeah?”

Your heart fluttered rapidly at his words, and a faint blush crept onto your cheeks as you swallowed thickly, your throat suddenly felt too tight, too dry.

After all, You hadn’t expected such considerate behavior after everything, such genteel conduct took you aback.

“Safeword?” you asked, your voice slightly unsteady.

“hm.. Strawberry?” he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

“Wait...” you say, craving the taste of his name on your tongue, “I still don’t know your name”

His brow lifts in amusement.

“Would you scream it if i were to tell you?”

You shivered as his warm breath tickled the sensitive skin of your neck His lips hovered so tantalizingly close that you could almost feel his ghostly touch against your skin, tempting you to lean into it.

“Don’t worry. I won’t leave any marks, unless you want me to..?” His voice was velvety smooth, laced with a hint of lust, causing a flutter in the pit of your stomach.

“Do you want me to?” He murmurs, slowly withdrawing his touch from your skin.

You hesitantly lift your shoulders in response, shrugging.

“Speak, angel, use your words.”

“I’m fine with anything,” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper.

A pleasant hum escaped him. “Good girl.”

You looked at him, pupils dilating slightly.

“You never answered my question though. What’s your name?” you uttered softly, your fingertips caressing the contours of his abdominal musculature in delicate strokes, tracing upwards towards his pectorals. As your hands explored the topography of his torso, drawing sensual patterns across his flesh, his breathing became heavier. He let out a hum of approval, hooking his fingers beneath the hem of his garment and lifting it swiftly over his head in one fluid motion and discarding his shirt on the ground.

You lifted your gaze to meet his, your eyes instinctively drawn to the pale line bisecting his torso. The scar was long, yet its texture intrigued you. How did he got it, you wondered. The scar was long, begining from his throat towards his lower abdomen.

It fascinated you.

You swallowed thickly.

“Can i touch it...?”

“Do whatever you want. I’m all yours.”

Your fingers drifted slowly along its length.

“Satoru,”

“My name is Satoru.” he uttered the name, and for some reasons, each syllable was laced with a familiarity that tugged at the edges of your memory, muddling your thoughts with a sense of déjà vu.

But you were too loss in the moment, not even able to think clearly, thus, you were oblivious to the fact that...

He’s the person that you’re planning to assassinate.

“That’s a pretty name,” you breathed, your pulse quickening at his caress.

“I’m pretty sure yours is pretty too.” he replied with a soft smile, his blue eyes staring intensely at yours as his thumb swept slowly along your lower lip, parting them like the velvet petals of a rose. An intoxicating shiver ran through your body at his delicate touch.

“[Name],” You mumble and he sighs.

“Sounds like a good name to groan about.”

He murmured and lifted you off him and lied you amongst the silken pillows, your [H/c] tresses fanned out, forming a vivid halo around your flushed features. His eyes lingered over your form, his tongue swiping on his lower lip to moisten them.

“Alright, Just say the safeword, and i’ll stop, yeah?” He says, earning a nod from you.

“Speak.”

“M-mnh.. yes”

“Good girl.” He praised softly.

“I’ll do all the work, yeah? Just lay down there like a good girl n’ let me please you.”

Slowly, his lips brushed the skin of your neck, eliciting a sigh from you. his fingertips traced your spine down to the clasp of your bra, and a quiet flick of experient fingers released the barrier, freeing your chest to his hungry gaze.

“Beautiful.” He complimented.

His fingertips leisurely caress delicate circles around your nipples, coaxing a delicious ache of pleasure to ignite. He lavishes attentions on one nipple, drawing it into his mouth while his nimble digits continue their expert ministrations on its twin, evoking an unabashed moan to escape your quivering lips.

He lets go off your nipples with a pop.

Starting at the base of your sternum, he planted slow, sensuous kisses, inching ever lower towards regions still untouched. When he reached your stomach, he placed a gentle kiss on your belly button.

Moving away from the bed with graceful precision, he knelt before your quivering form and slid greedy hands along your thighs, grasping your hips to pull you on the edge of the bed, so that his head was completely positioned between your legs. A wanton moan escaped you then as he lifted one leg high, draping it over his broad shoulder.

“Relax, f’me pretty girl.” He said, after noticing how tense your body is.

You watched, enamoured as he pressed a line of searing kisses along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh—he looked so pretty while doing that.

He hummed as he saw the dampness in your underwear.

“Look at you,” he chuckled breathily.

“All we did was kiss, n’ you’re already soakin’ wet.”

His lips traced delicate patterns along your thigh, each fleeting caress like liquid fire on your fevered skin.

Fuck, who would’ve known that he’ll turn you in a whining mess with just his kisses?

Humiliation blooms in your throat as you realized how pathetic you are right now, You clasped a hand over your flushed visage, heart pounding erratically against your ribs.

Satoru seemed displeased with that though.

“Hey, none of ‘that” He scolds.

“Lemme see your pretty face.”

You took a ragged breath, though anticipation swirled within you, nervousness lingered at your edges. But then, this is what you wanted isn’t it?

“I-i don’t wanna.”

He scoffs and shifted his weight, pressing you further into the pillows.

“Do it.” He says.

You shook your head and he sighs.

“If y’don’t take your hands off your face, i’ll tie you up n’ fuck you till you can’t walk.”

“ S’ that what you want angel?”

“No..” You sighed, not wanting to get tied up, you slowly curled your fingers away from your flushed face.

“You’re so shameless...” You mumble.

“Yeah, no shame at all. Why would i be shameful of myself when I have a pretty lil’ thing like you under me? All soakin’ wet n’ pretty.”

“Besides... I know you like it anyways,” He mumbled.

Satoru’s tongue, hot and wet, darted out to leave a scorching trail against the tender flesh of your inner thighs.

You sighed, eyes fluttering shut at the sensation.

“Open your eyes n’ look at me, pretty.”

“I want you to look at me while i eat you out.”

This is so embarrassing and humiliating that it hurts, your throat constricts, his words makes you embarrassed, he was just so blunt, so shameless—he was all so sweet and using romantic words when you’re just kissing.

But fuck, did satoru changed once you gave him your consent, pressin’ you on the sheets like that and saying filthy words.

You reluctantly fluttered your lashes open to meet his stare, laying yourself bare as fingertips ghosted ever higher.

“See? That’s a good girl. Now just lie there princess, let me make you feel good.”

You felt yourself swallowing thickly as he hooked nimble fingers into the lacy edge of your undergarments, sliding the delicate fabric down your legs.

It was slow, agonizingly slow, too slow for your own liking.

Your body suddenly involuntarily jolted as a wave of his scorching breath caressed the intimate flesh between your legs.

“So pretty..” His words were a low murmur, infused with a hunger that made humiliation to bubble up your chest, feeling embarrassed.

“Don’t... don’t stare,” you murmur back, feeling self conscious, flush of embarrassment tinged your cheeks, your hips shifting involuntarily beneath his intense gaze.

“Don’t stare... S’ making me embarrassed.”

With a devilish smirk dancing on his lips, he gave another teasing lick on your thighs. Satoru wouldn’t lie, he wanted to bite your thigh so bad, sink his teeth on your plush thighs, and leave a mark, but he restrained himself from doing so.

“No, m’not staring love, just... studying, don’t be embarrassed” he murmured almost innocently, his words a stark contrast to the boldness of his actions.

“Besides... You’re so beautiful in here... You just can’t just expect me to not compliment it.” He says.

You shook your head. “It’s not that... It’s just.. i.. i haven’t done this before.” You mumble.

“Haven’t done oral before?” He questioned, watching as your face burned as you shook your head.

“I’m a virgin.” You confirmed.

His sapphire eyes widened at your confession and his throat constricts, adams apple bobbing in his throat.

The revelation caught him off guard, each breath he took feeling like a fleeting gasp of surprise. He had not expected this revelation, not from you. Your actions had spoken of confidence and skill, and, damn, you sure did like a seductress.

His hand twitched, the pads of his fingers pressing on your thighs slightly.

“No wonder you’re so shy...”

He pulled back slightly, a tinge of guilt creeping into his consciousness at the notion of overwhelming you. Aware that his dirty words may be foreign to your ears, he gazes upon you with a mixture of empathy and desire.

“We can stop this if you want.” he offers, his gaze intense and probing.

“Shit no.” you murmur.

“Don’t stop. I want you.” The words escape your lips in a breathy whisper, laden with lust, restraint flickers in his eyes, as he caught his lower lip on his teeth.

“If you say so. I have a thing for popping cherries anyways,” He says with a laugh.

Your breath suddenly caught in your throat as his thumb glided teasingly over your clit.

A playful chuckle escaped his lips at your sensitivity, before he leaned in once again, his warm breath ghosting over your heated skin as he kissed your clit.

“Sensitive, are we?” he chuckles softly before dipping down to give your throbbing clit yet another teasing lick, releasing a desperate whimper from your parted lips.

His fingers gently spread apart your folds, his face inches away as his tongue teases your slit, the wet muscles licks the slick trail that has gathered on your pussy, eliciting soft whimpers from you as your body instinctively responds with a slight arching of your hips.

“aah.. hnngh, satoru” You mewled.

“You taste so good... heavenly even.”

With another tantalizing lick, he savors the exquisite taste of your arousal. His hungry mouth then latches onto your pulsating clit, sucking on it gently. Moans escaped your parted lips as you clutch onto the sheets.

He devoured you as if starved, his hunger palpable in each expert lick and fervent suck, transforming you into a feast he couldn’t devour quickly enough—Your moans were like delicious music to his ears, and fuck, did it it make him hard. He whines, grinding against the edge of the bed, seeking friction.

“I can just eat you out everyday and not get tired of it...” he moaned shamelessly, his voice slightly muffled as your hips bucked involuntarily, a whimper of pleasure escaping your lips.

“Love your taste so much.”

Satoru’s tongue moved skillfully around your clit, softly brushing against it to send shivers down your spine. With deliberate movements, he gently licked it in distinct patterns, exploring your most sensitive spots.

His fingers grip tightly onto your hip, while he eagerly indulges in pleasuring and sucking on your bundle of nerves, causing a titillating sensation that makes your inner muscles contract and a surge of euphoria creates a swirling sensation in your stomach.

“Feels good, doesn’t it, pretty girl?” satoru whispers, his words muffled by his persistent oral ministrations. As he continues to pleasure you with unwavering determination, the pleasure he evokes from within you cannot be contained, escaping your lips in the form of unrestrained moans. The pleasure becomes so overwhelming that it threatens to engulf your vision, as though a curtain of stars is poised to blind you from the outside world.

“Fuck, Satoru, i-i’m.. haaah..” You panted, thighs shaking as your insides contracts, a tingling sensation radiating on your body.

“I know. C’mon. Cum for me, angel. Lemme taste you on my tongue,”

You let out a deep moan, succumbing to the intense climax as you cum hard. Radiating satisfaction, satoru hummed contentedly while skillfully lapping up every trace of your released essence.

“You taste like heaven itself, just like i thought...” he whispered, his voice filled with longing, as he withdrew from your pussy and stood up and pressed his lips against yours. The taste of your own cum lingered on his mouth, intoxicating and arousing, causing you to moan in pleasure before surrendering to his passionate kiss.

As the two of you kissed, his touch ventured lower, his hand finding its way to your puffy clit again, rubbing it, prompting a chorus of moans from you.

Your breath hitched when you felt his middle finger probing your hole gathering your slick before slowly pushing inside.

“Breathe.” He whispers.

“Hngnh, Satoru.” You whined on his mouth as he added another, his fingers were so long and thick, filling you so deliciously. The sensation of his fingers stretching you from within was intense and slightly painful, yet somehow enjoyable in its own way.

“You’re so tight, you gotta relax n’ let me in.”

You bit his tongue, causing him to let out a low moan.

“There.. you gotta adjust.. that’s it, good girl.” He murmurs, whispering sweet nothings into you.

Satoru’s cock throbbed painfully beneath his straining trousers, yet he focused solely on pleasuring you, expertly thrusting his fingers in and out of you. When he grazed upon a certain tender zone, an eyebrow arched knowingly as your riven flesh clenched tightly around his digits as he pulled away for a bit.

“Ahn.. hnn please,” You panted.

“Oh?” He purred slyly.

“Hm? Is something wrong?” He murmured, once more curling his finger upwards and pressing that spot within your pussy, drawing forth a lustrous moan as your arched your velvet back in pleasure.

“You tightened around me, did i hit a good spot?”

“this is where you’re weak, isn’t it?” His digits thrust rhythmically into your inner sanctum, coaxing ever more ardent moans of euphoria from your lips.

“How cute.”

A molten pool of desire gathered low in your belly, waves of euphoria washing over your trembling frame.

Satoru bit his lip as his hand slid stealthily down within his own constrained trousers, swiftly freeing his engorged member to pump smoothly within his curled fingers.

His thumb smeared the precum that was leaking on the tip, using it as a lube to slowly jerk off.

“Aahh... Fuck..” he moaned gutturally, his fingers, still buried deep within your moisture-slicked cunt, he withdrew his fingers sluggishly and raised it languidly to his lips, his tongue darting out to taste your essence.

“C’mere.” he says, sitting upright and patting his lap

His voice was ragged with want as he beckoned you closer. You rose from the rumpled bedsheets and moved to him, sitting on his lap, feeling the heat of his gaze as it roamed your naked form.

“Kiss me.” He commands.

You immediately kissed him, the taste of your essence still upon his mouth, and it made butterflies fluttering in your stomach. His cock pressed against your skin as he stroked himself.

“haah... Feel that princess? ’m so hard for you”

Breaking the kiss, you gazed down at satoru, drinking in his beauty as your fingers traced the lines of his chiselled abdomen, following each dip and swell. Your mouth followed the path of your hand, pressing feathery kisses along the scar that he had, revelling in each hitch of his breath and twitch of muscle beneath your ministrations.

Your gaze then lingered on his cock, admiring its size and girth. The tip was flushed red with arousal, and it twitched at your gaze, you pushed his hand away from it.

He seemed to be surprised at that—yet didn’t make a move to stop you.

“Ah, Ah? Did i told you that you can touch me?” He teased.

You nipped on your lower lip, as you tentatively wrapped your hand around his shaft, marveling at its sheer thickness that challenged your grip.

“No... But i wanted to touch you.” You mumbled, You ache for deeper intimacy, craving the solace of flesh against flesh in your drunken haze.

“Mmnh.. maybe if you’re really that desperate... Maybe i should just give it to you, hm?”

“Tell me what you want.” he says, his fingers entwining in your hair, tugging gently to lift your gaze to his. A moan escapes you.

“You,” you manage to breathe out, the craving evident in your eyes. His eyebrow quirks.

“Be specific.” he murmurs, his tone commanding and seductive.

“I wanna please you too,” you confess, your words laced with need—all the shyness from before leaving you, only lust remains. He exhales heavily, releasing his hold on your hair.

“So eager to please aren’t you? Such a good girl.”

He hums.

“Go on. Suck me off, show me what that pretty little mouth can do.”

As you followed his command, you delicately bent down and rested your head on his cock. Extending your tongue, you dragged the flat of your tongue and traced the vein that prominently bulged on the underside of his dick.

Your tongue slowly traced a path up his shaft, moving towards the tip. With anticipation, you opened your mouth to take him in, feeling a bit of discomfort as you adjusted to his size. It took some time for your jaw to accommodate the width of his girth as his tip brushed against the back of your throat.

You looked only to see that he was only half way in, and shit, you just realized how much he’s gonna hurt your throat.

“Ngh.. you gotta relax your throat if you want to take me in your mouth.” he moans, sensing your discomfort as you struggle not to gag. Following his instruction, you comply, feeling Satoru's sharp intake of breath as he nips his lip in pleasure.

Despite the sensation being pleasing, it's clear that he craves more.

“C’mon angel, take me deeper.” he urges softly, his fingers entangling on your [H/c] locks, his gaze fixated on your hollowed cheeks and watery eyes. The sight of your tears only serves to fuel his desire to push himself further into your mouth, relishing the idea of watching you Choke on him. The thought of you looking so enticing in that vulnerable state drives him to actually thrust himself deeper down your throat.

Satoru thrusts upwards, causing your throat to constrict as you struggled to breathe. Tears ran down your cheeks and saliva dripped onto his shaft.

“Breathe through your nose.” He instructs.

“That’s it,” he uttered with a sensual groan, his eyes half-closed as he guided your head to move back and forth on his dick. He licked his lips, observing you as you found it difficult to deepthroat him.

He hummed contentedly, the room filled with nasty squelching sounds. He savored the feeling of your throat tightening around his cock like a vice.

Such a poor thing, he thought, feeling your fingers dig into his thighs. He ran his fingers through your [H/c] tresses before slowly withdrawing from your mouth with an audible pop, a strand of viscous fluid on your lips cheeks flushed and eyes dewy.

“That’s enough, i don’t want you vomitting on my dick.”

Gingerly, he swept the disheveled locks from your face and captured your lips once more, not giving you a time to recover, humming as he tasted himself on you. When at last you broke for air, chests heaving in unison, he met your hooded gaze with a glint of intrigue.

“You suck at this.” A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth as his strong hands found your waist.

“M’ sorry,”

You shuddered involuntarily as his fingers delicately traced the contours of your neck, eliciting a chill that radiated through your trembling form. Soft whimpers escaped your quivering lips.

“Shhh..” he cooed in a velvet tenor, his palm softly gliding along your side before his digits pressed deeply into the plush of your ass. A small gasp passed through your slightly parted mouth at the fervent sensation of his fingernails gingerly clawing your supple skin.

“I know that y’wanna please me.”

“But there is no need to overexert yourself,” he said as if he wasn’t the one who practically shoved your face down on his dick.

“I enjoyed it,”

“D-did you?” you inquired.

“Fuck yes, your throat’s squeezin’ me so tight n’ it feels good.”

A swelling sensation arose within your thorax as elation is in your throat, though an acute pain seized your esophagus. Your larynx felt inflamed and raw, as if scoured by sandpaper. But despite the troubles afflicting your throat, you had performed admirably based on his praise, you felt proud.

“Maybe i should reward you for bein’ so good?” he purrs, his hand sliding from your stomach down to your lower abdomen, a low hum escaping his lips as he plunges his fingers into your hole. A sharp gasp escapes your lips as he begins to curl his fingers inside you, pressing against your g-spot and stretching you again. As moments pass, he withdraws his fingers, your slick coating them entirely.

“I think you’re more than ready.”

“Let’s get you on top, yeah?” he says lifting your form to straddle his hard cock.

He reveled in the sight of you nestled against his towering frame, a delicate contrast to his strong physique. Each ragged gasp you drew in, every flush on your face, and the smudged remnants of makeup only served to enhance your allure in his eyes.

“C’mon, take me in.” he says, kissing your cheek. “Just hold onto me”

Your response was a subtle bite to your lower lip, a silent surrender as you obediently placed your trembling hand on his firm neck, burying your heated countenance in the sanctuary of his shoulder.

“Hm...”

He hoists you up slightly, his firm hand wrapped around his cock, guiding it towards the heat between your thighs. The tip of his arousal brushes against your clit, eliciting a fervent sigh as you inadvertently dig your nails into his muscular back.

“Ready?”

A soft whimper escapes your parted lips as he slowly eases into you, the initial entrance is a searing burn, it burns deliciously as he splits you open.

You sunk your teeth into his shoulder, the searing sensation reverberating through you as his cock pressed against your cervix with a tantalizing ache. “Relax, let me in.” his whispered command brushed against your nape, his lips trailing kisses as his fingers drew deliberate circles upon your quivering skin.

“It’s... it's too much,” you gasped, the overwhelming fullness causing you to scrabble at his back, your nails digging into flesh as you felt the sting of tears welling in your eyes.

“T-too much, ‘Toru, please,” You writhe

“C’mon, You can handle it,” He remained motionless, allowing you the space to acclimate to the invasion, his warm breath ghosting over your ear as he urged you to yield.

“Relax, pretty, let me in.”

Your head swims with a dizzying blend of pleasure as you feel him deep inside you, his hand venturing downward to circle and massage your clit. Gradually, you begin to acclimate And he exhales in pleasure as he revels in the tight clench of your walls around him, the exquisite sensation coiling through him.

“Do you feel that?”

“You’re taking it so well,” he groans.

“It fits so perfectly well isn’t it? It’s like you were made for me.” he whispered.

“Alrighty, time to move okay ? Put your back into it.” he gripped your hips firmly, he guides your body to ebb and flow along his dick.

“Up, down.”

You couldn’t help but let out a loud moan as you felt the heat of his rigid cock gliding inside of you . His hips bucked, setting a quickened pace that had your breath hitching in pure ecstasy. Your eyes fluttered shut as each powerful thrust hit that sweet spot deep inside you, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through every fiber of your being.

“‘Toru, ‘Toru” You whined his name.

“Pl-please," you gasped, your voice laced with need, as you instinctively dug your nails into his muscular back, raking them down with a delicious sting.

“I need… I need you to… kiss me,” you managed to murmur.

“You want me in your mouth too, hm?” He teased before pressing his lips against yours, your teeths clashing together.

“Fuckk, that’s it...”

His soft expletive escaped his lips as he reluctantly withdrew from the intoxicating embrace of your mouth. His hands slid down the curves of your waist, mesmerized by the sight of his cock moving rhythmically within you.

“Your lips taste like ambrosia,” he murmured, his words accompanied by the clenching of your inner muscles around him.

Fuck, he was drunk in your sounds, drunk in the way you feel, you were just so heavenly.

“C’mon, cum. I know you want to.” he coaxed, a low moan escaping him as he felt your body shudder in ecstasy, tightening around him as you cum hard.

The sensation of your climax sent a jolt of pleasure through him, his own release building rapidly. His abdominal muscles clenched as he inhaled sharply, the intensity of the moment overwhelming him.

“Fuck.. can I... inside?” he asked in a whimpery voice, seeking your permission in a breathless whisper. You, lost in a haze of pleasure, simply nodded in acquiescence. With a guttural groan, he emptied himself into you.

Even as he already released, his pace did not falter, fucking you as if you’re his little human fleshlight. His grip on your waist tightened as he deftly shifted your positions, swiftly flipping you over so that you were beneath him.

“Let’s go for another.”

━━𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋

Your respiration came in uneven gasps as your tongue lolled delicately from your mouth. Your visage was flushed a deep scarlet and a sheen of perspiration coated your form. Your gaze, though half-lidded with lust, remained trained attentively upon him. Situated backwards upon his lap, your legs were parted widely as he nestled his face against your scapular region. Your hands clung desperately to his biceps.

One of his hands rested upon the slender column of your throat, while the other rests on your chest, playing with your nipples. His cock thrusts rhythmically into your inner sanctum the tip of his dick kissing your pretty little cervix, coaxing ever more ardent melodies of euphoria from your lips.

His hand slid down your body, a subtle pressure teasing the soft curve of your abdomen as he pressed against the small bulge on her abdomen.

“Haah... Fuck.. you feel me in there pretty? M’ so deep in you.”

He let out a low moan, his grip tightening around your hip as he intensified his rhythm.

Satoru’s respiration was labored, eyelids weighed down as his lips caressed your shoulders delicately. Crimson marks peppered your skin where his mouth had wandered voraciously. Your back met his chest in a slow slide, your skin kissing his.

The sound of heavy breathing, moans, and skin slapping against each other vibrated through the room.

Your thighs ached dully and muscles sore from prior exultations.

“mnhh.. ‘Toruu, please,” You mewled, squirming.

“M’ tired already, Please... S’ too much.”

You two have been going on it for some quite time now, how many times did he made you cum again? Was it six times? You can distinctly recall experiencing orgasm twice from his tongue, once from his fingers, and three times from his cock. The sensation of being stretched caused considerable discomfort, even though he took the time to prepare you, it still stung.

“Mnh.. my poor angel is tired, huh?” satoru uttered in a mellifluous tone, tracing the swirling contours of your auricle with the tip of his tongue before affixing an ardent kiss on the pulsing carotid beneath.

“Don’t worry.” Satoru says.

“I’ll take care of you after this... So, just be a good girl and take it all, okay?”

Satoru had already become enraptured in the way you tasted and sounded, drunk on the melodic chorus of gasps and moans that spilled wantonly from you. Though sobriety had returned to claim his clarity of mind once more, for you intoxication still lingered and he knew it.

He wanted to stop, but how could he? You were squeezin’ and taking him so good and deep, and he just needed this release after the suguru incident after all.

He was having too much fun in splitting you in half after all.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

AUTHORS NOTE:

I CAN'T BELIEVE I WROTE THIS SJKSKSJS, fun fact; i’m an asexual virgin. It's so funny writing this HAHHAHAHA, i literally CACKLED when i was writing “pussy, cunt, cock,” AHHSHSHAH MY IMMATURITY COULD NEVER😭 I WOULD KMS IF I EVER ADDED BALLS.💀

440 notes · View notes

theagstd · 2 months ago

Text

One Night Stand ; 39

➥ rundown ; as if the unexpected twist of a one-night stand turning out to be your CEO boss wasn't surreal enough, the situation takes a more challenging turn when both of you discover that you're expecting his child.

→ genre ; enemies to lovers | CEO au | pregnancy trope | slowburn

→ Jungkook x y/n

→ contains smut, fluff and angst

→ Chapter thirty nine ; wc | 5.8 k

primarily on Wattpad

index ⇢ next chapter

Jungkook watches the steady rise and fall of your chest, adored by the peaceful look on your sleeping face. He's seen you asleep countless times, yet this morning feels different—

you're glowing more than ever. He likes to think it's because of him, that he's responsible for both the afterglow and the glow of pregnancy. He's lost track of time, aware only that he's been lying here well past his work hours.

With the tension from your recent fight, he's missed Saturday at the office and hasn't checked his emails, too stressed to focus. He knows he should get up and work, but how can he pull himself away when you're so beautifully asleep on his chest?

his eyes move around your face, taking in your features. the length of your eyelashes, your perfectly sculpted nose and your pouty lips that part just slightly with each quiet breath. your hand rests on his naked chest under your cheek he knows will leave red imprints on your pale skin.

his fingertips reach to tuck the baby hair behind your ears, and slowly he allows himself to do this action. you hum at the contact of his warm skin on your cold face as you push yourself closer and deeper into him, even though that's impossible when you're already so close to him.

he smiles at that, it makes you look like a baby laying on him. he doesn't want to wake you up but his duties call for him, although he doesn't really give a damn about it since he's so caught up in this beautiful dream with you, he must go. "baby.." He whispers, hoping to wake you up nice and easy.

You hum a little, shifting around, your hand searching for something he can't quite figure out. He looks at you, a bit confused, as your fingers keep roaming across his chest. Gently, he rests his hand on your arm, and you grab it, tucking it under your neck like it's the most natural thing.

Jungkook can't help but laugh, totally charmed by how cute you are. "Baby....i've got to go." he murmurs and you whine like a child. "I don't want to leave you too but.. i have to." "stay.." you mumble and he pouts. he wishes he could, he wants to, so badly.

"I'll be back soon, I promise." he drapes his arm around you and caresses your naked back. your skin so smooth and soft, he loves touching you, he could do it all day. "promise?" you ask. you're still half asleep, you have no idea what you're mumbling but you know you're being a whiny mess. "I promise, darling."

he places a kiss on your temple, his nose touching yours, and he lets himself stay like that for some time. "when you get back..." " mm?" "can you get me some strawberry tanghulu?" you ask and he frowns as he detaches his face from yours to look at you. "tanghulu?" "mm hmm, I saw them in my dream."

"them?" "them...they were dancing tanghulu's- before you laugh at my face! I don't know why it came to life." you say, your tone growing sharper, almost defensive. But that only makes Jungkook laugh harder, especially since your voice went up an octave as you tried to sound serious even though you're sleepy.

"alright, i'll get them for you." your eyes flutter slowly as you open them wide to look at him. his galaxy orbs stare at you while he bites on the inside of his cheek, making that dimple you love more visible. you lift your head to see him, a small smile plays on your lips as your eyes slowly drift shut, the exhaustion pulling you back under.

You can barely fight it, wishing you could fast-forward to nightfall and sink into sleep all over again. "you're tired, sleep. I'll be back soon. you won't even feel it." "but i will. you're so warm-" you hug him tighter as you press your head inside his neck.

"and it will be so cold when you leave." you continue. you're being extra clingy and it's something he hasn't really seen. you're fond of touch and being around him but, this clingy? he thinks he's unlocked a different side of you and he loves it so much more. "i know baby. wait for me okay."

you nod as he places a kiss on your forehead and runs his fingers in your hair. "i think it's because i haven't slept well the past two days." he hums and says 'me too.' Jungkook forces himself to get off the bed, he's fully aware that if he spends another minute with you he's not gonna be able to pull away.

he takes a warm shower after he chooses his suit for the day. he walks out of the washroom with a towel draped around him and then puts on his shirt and trousers. you've wrapped your hands around his pillow still dozing off. he oils his hair then proceeds to button up his shirt and do his tie.

He can't take his eyes off you, wondering why he hadn't done this sooner—why he hadn't let you sleep next to him in his bed, in his room. You just look so right here, like you belong. He swears he's never seen anyone look so beautiful. It's like you're the light his darkroom was missing, like you complete it in a way he didn't even know he needed.

he walks over to you while he fastens the buttons on his wrist as he leans closer to your face. "i'm leaving baby. take care okay." "mm hmm." "have your meds and text me if you need anything." "okay.." he places a peck on your nose and smiles as he grabs his coat and walks out of the room, closing the door behind him.

This morning, Jungkook feels like an entirely new person, and it's all because of you. Arguing with you had drained the life out of him, and only now does he realize how weak he'd been over the past two days. The workload he's facing is intense, he should be feeling stressed and anxious.

Yet, as he sits in the back seat with his driver taking him to the office, he has a foolish grin on his face, replaying memories of last night and how beautiful you look today. he sighs as he leans his head back on the seat and he prepares himself to face the work that waits for him.

He also recalls the visit to your parent's place and makes a mental note to book the tickets this week.

;

You're woken by the restless, uncomfortable movements of your baby, who refuses to let you sleep on your left side. Turning to the right is a struggle too, with the weight of your belly, so you decide to get up. The pillows still carry Jungkook's scent, and for some reason, it makes you giggle like a lovesick girl.

Now and then, you take a small sniff, smiling as you relax. Maybe starting today, you'll see him try to love this baby as much as you do. You really hope he does. you pull yourself out of his soft bed and walk back to your room. you're greeted by Bam who sleeps on the bed, he lifts his head up when he senses you entering and immediately runs over to you.

"ohhh Bammie! i've missed you." you speak to the Doberman who twirls around your feet as if he's meeting you after weeks. "i'll be right back okay." he barks at you and you give him a little pat before you grab your outfit and walk into the washroom.

you freshen up and relax on your couch as Bam sits beside you waiting for his pets. Maya knocks on your door and you give her your brightest smile. "good morning y/n.." "morning Maya!" She walks over and gives you a quick pat on the head, taking a moment to notice the charming changes in your features.

Your smile is wider, your eyes are bright and full of excitement, and your voice is lively and high-pitched. the old woman knows everything has been settled and she couldn't have been happier about it. "I'm starving... could you maybe get me something sweet for breakfast?" you ask, and she clasps her hands together in delight.

"Absolutely! I'll be right back with something freshly made." Maya's over the moon that you've asked her for something sweet—her specialty. It's been a while since anyone has requested this; her children live far away, and she hasn't seen her grandchildren in a long time.

Living alone, she's thrilled to have someone to cook for again. Feeding people is her passion, and having the chance to prepare a meal for a pregnant woman feels like a true blessing. It's not like Maya hasn't been cooking for you, she makes something for you every day. But it's always savory, a wrap or a sandwich, never anything sweet.

You're finishing up a book, but after so much reading and TV, you're starting to feel restless. You want something fun to do, but you're also too tired to move around much. Your gaze drifts over to the baby clothes still in their plastic bag. You've only bought a few things so far; there's so much more to get, and the thought of going baby shopping again excites you.

Maybe this time Jungkook could come along? Although Hoseok was amazing, too. he was not only curious but also wildly enthusiastic. You realize you haven't texted him since last evening, so you check your phone. Sure enough, he's left you a bunch of messages, mostly asking you about how you're feeling.

he's a good friend, he checks up on you and the baby and always leaves you smiling. Hoseok's a true friend, and you know you should keep him forever. While replying to his texts, your mom's call comes through, so you answer. "Y/N! How are you, darling?"

she greets you warmly. "I'm feeling the best! How are you and Dad?" you reply. "Oh, we're doing well! I was thinking, when are you coming to visit us? You always say 'soon,' but you never tell us when." You hum, then answer, "Probably next week? I want to see you too."

She immediately responds, "Come, then! Oh, and I have something to tell you." You sense she's going to bring up someone. "What now, Mom?" "Jessica, your dad's cousin's daughter—remember her?" You can barely recall, but you go along.

"Yeah, what about her?" "She dropped by with gifts to celebrate her twins! She looks so beautiful in her pregnancy; she's glowing!" You stiffen, rolling your eyes at the thought of what they might say about you. "Wow... I'm so happy for her,"

you respond as she continues to talk about them and how your relatives are doing although you don't really bother about them at all. your responses go as a hum or a yeah or wow without indulging too much with it. you look over at Bam and he tilts his head with his round eyes and you copy him and mouth blah blah blah while patting the dog's body.

Maya walks in with a warm smile, carrying a plate decorated with something so delicious and beautifully presented. "Mom, I'll talk to you later—uh, I've got to catch up on something," you say, waiting until she declines the call.

You sit up, folding your feet underneath you, eagerly waiting for Maya to place the plate on the coffee table. "I hope you enjoy a well-done French toast and berry compote," she says. Your mouth parts in awe as you look at how elegantly she's decorated the plate—almost like a dish for MasterChef. "This looks so stunning! It's too perfect to eat!" you exclaim, marveling at the effort she put into the details.

"This makes me feel like it's Christmas!" you add, pouting in delight. Maya is thrilled by your reaction, thinking the time she spent on this dish was more than worth it. "Enjoy, dear!" she says happily. "Thanks, Maya, you remind me of my late grandmother..."

you whisper the last few words, but the old woman catches on. "She must've loved you so much," she says softly. You sigh, leaning back, memories of your beloved grandmother flooding your mind. She used to make her famous apple cinnamon rolls just for you, even though your mother would scold her for spoiling your teeth.

But you both would do it secretly when your parents were out at work, and it was just the two of you. Maya realizes that you share a special bond with your grandmother and expresses her hope of creating a meaningful connection with you as well.

She knows how deeply Jungkook loves you—she can feel it, understanding how hard it has been for him to open up and love again after years of guarding his heart. But with you, it's different. She can see the love you both share, and she eagerly awaits the day those feelings are fully confessed, believing that when that happens, the house will be filled with joy, warmth, and laughter.

"Oh darling, I'm honored that I remind you of your grandmother," Maya says softly. "Maybe you could tell me more about her and the food she used to make for you. I'm a grandmother too, you know. I love my grandkids, but they live so far away...." You find it sad that many grandchildren don't get to spend time with their grandparents. It feels like an essential part of growing up—the love, care, and cultural heritage that only grandparents can pass on.

It makes you reflect on your own family, realizing with a pang of sadness that your children might miss out on those special experiences once your parents are no longer around since you're settled in Korea and them in Canada. "Maybe I could share those experiences with you," Maya offers gently.

"You're like a child to me, too." Looking at her, you notice how beautiful she is, her gentle features and the way her sagging skin crinkles into a heartwarming smile. Her warmth and the kindness in her voice feel so grandmotherly, exactly what you need in this moment. "Thank you, Maya,"

you respond with a smile. "I'd love that!" she leaves after a moment of silence. You quickly grab your phone to snap a picture of the beautiful dish and the moment, adding a little heart to the image before posting it on Instagram. You smile at how adorable it looks. Then, you take a bite of the thick brioche French toast—nothing like the typical, thin slices.

The warm berry compote, creamy whipped cream, and delicate dusting of icing sugar send you straight to heaven. The softness of the toast, the perfect balance of sweetness and tartness from the compote, and the airy cream combine in a way that's even better than you expected. It's so delicious,

you know it's something you'll be craving again soon. Jungkook replies to your story and that's something that happened for the first time because you haven't posted anything for a long time.

Jungkook replied to your story ; you're eating all that without me?

you giggle at his reply. Somehow everything feels different today, you know why yet you like to keep it a mystery.

; you left me so you don't get any.

J ; i didn't leave you hun, i was forced to!

; anyway... you did so :(

J ; i like it when you're whiny

; i think i'm coming out of my character, i should go back to being annoying

J ; omfg NO.

he's so cute that he leaves you all giddy. you can't wait for him to come home, you miss him so much that it hurts. Jungkook, on the other hand, has been having a rough day and even weird that his staff gave him a look whenever he made eye contact with them, but every text you send him brings him a sense of calm.

You're his safe haven, the missing piece he didn't know he needed, and he feels it deeply. Work has been a struggle lately, adding to his stress. So, when he hears a knock on his door, he calls out, "Come in," without thinking. His eyes land on the man standing before him, and after a double take, he lets out an angry sigh. "What are you doing he—" "What are these pictures?"

the orange-haired man cuts Jungkook off, tossing an envelope of photos onto his desk. Jungkook grabs it, irritated, and opens it. As he pulls out the pictures, he realizes they're of moments he never knew were captured.

His eyes widen at the photos of him holding you at the picnic, kissing you, and even some from your trip to Paris—the greasy pizza he warned you not to eat, and shots from the business party he attended in France. "You're doing the exact same thing Taehyung was doing, and now it's fine with you?"

Yoongi questions, leaning against the table. Jungkook stares at the photos, alarmed and confused. Who could have taken these secret pictures of you both? Jungkook hadn't fully registered Yoongi's words, but when they finally sank in, his eyes snapped up, seething. "Say that again," he demanded.

Yoongi took a breath and repeated himself. With that, Jungkook rose from his seat, his glare icy. "Don't you dare compare me to that bastard!" "Kook, if you're doing the same thing, what difference is there between you two?" "I don't take advantage of women! You know me! How could you even—"

"How could you think so low of me?" he asked quietly, disappointment thick in his tone. Yoongi smiled bitterly, looking down. "You think I haven't heard the rumors? Don't you think I read the magazines? Think I don't read the magazines or keep up with what you do?" He took in the success surrounding him as he stepped closer to Jungkook.

"If you knew so much about me, why would you hide?" Jungkook shot back. "That's not the point, Jungkook! What matters is what you do now—" "I don't sleep around anymore!" Jungkook yelled, closing the distance between them until they were almost chest-to-chest. Yoongi held his ground, determined not to let this turn into a physical fight.

He knew Jungkook's strength and his temper; so he kept his voice steady, refusing to escalate things. "that's not what the pictures say? i can't believe you got some women pregnant when you were so against t-"

"It's my wife!" Jungkook snapped, the words cutting through the room.

Yoongi's frown deepened, studying Jungkook's expression, searching for any sign of truth in his words. Jungkook exhaled sharply, finally stepping back from Yoongi and sinking into his chair. He rested his elbows on the table, hiding his face in his hands. He hadn't meant to reveal it like this;

he knew he had to say something, but he hadn't expected it to come out in such a raw, exposed way. the older's lips part as he tries to take it in but he can't. he thinks he may have misheard it. "what?!" he asks and hears jungkook whine. "she's...not my wife but she's my- everything." Jungkook mutters under his breath, never expecting to admit this out loud, especially not to someone he'd looked up to for so long.

Yoongi takes a closer look at the pictures. He can't make out the woman's face clearly, but he notices how her bump grows in each photo. "When... when did this happen? How did you—" "It's... different now. I haven't been with anyone else since," Jungkook says quietly. Yoongi can hardly believe it.

After years of Jungkook being caught up in one scandal after another, he hadn't even realized that phase had come to an end. Spending time away, he'd only seen pictures of Jungkook and some pregnant woman circulating online, and he was worried Jungkook might've been making another mistake. He didn't want to see him go down that road.

"Kook..." Yoongi says softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. When he looks at Jungkook's face, he sees tears brimming in his eyes. "I was... worried when I saw these in the media." Yoongi turns back to the photos, feeling a bit relieved. Your face isn't visible in any of them—hidden by a kiss here, taken from behind there, or perfectly covered by a pizza slice.

Jungkook nods at the older words as he makes a mental note to check social media when he's free. Jungkook hadn't noticed anything was off, even though people in the building had given him strange looks as he walked to his office. "So... how is she?"

Yoongi asks, curious. Jungkook rarely talks about his relationships, so Yoongi wants to know if this is really something serious. Jungkook's face softens, and a faint smile appears as his eyes light up just thinking about you. "She's..." he trails off, mumbling, then gets quiet. Yoongi holds back a smile. "She's the one,"

Jungkook finally says, his voice low but certain. Yoongi takes a seat across from him, waiting for Jungkook to say more, but he doesn't. After a beat, he asks gently, "And... the pregnancy?" Jungkook shifts uncomfortably. The way he met you, and how things unfolded—it wasn't exactly a fairy tale.

"i met her at a club..." Yoongi senses he's touching on a sensitive topic when he notices Jungkook's hesitation, so he keeps his tone light. "How many months along is she?" Jungkook's pulse quickens, panic bubbling up—he doesn't actually know. He has no real details about his child, and that realization brings a wave of anger and sadness.

Yoongi frowns, noticing Jungkook gulp and crack his knuckles. "She's about... six months along," he answers quickly, making it clear he doesn't want more questions, and Yoongi catches the hint. "Great, I'm happy for you both," Yoongi nods, giving Jungkook a steady look before getting to his feet.

"I'll head out, then..." Jungkook nods, and as Yoongi heads to the door, he pauses. "I hope we can catch up again sometime. Start fresh, if you're open to it... things have changed. Maybe we can all be better, too."

He offers a tight smile, then steps out of the room. Jungkook lets out a deep breath, sinking into his chair as he covers his face with his hands. No matter what Yoongi says, he knows he could never go back to them. Things may have changed, but the past is still there, unerasable—and he isn't ready to let it go.

Yoongi's presence stirs up his frustrations, yet there's a part of him that misses seeing him, the familiarity of having him around, even with all the weight of old memories. he may have changed in some ways, but he still wears the same comfortable sweaters and shirts, and he still speaks with his usual wisdom.

Outwardly, nothing seems different, except for the relationship that no longer exists between them. He pauses to breathe, feeling the stress build as worries about his image and the latest rumors churn in his mind. He's especially concerned about what people might be saying about you.

When he picks up his phone and checks Twitter, he sees the same photos Yoongi had left on his desk now posted online, along with captions like:

"Is the CEO of Jeon Industries going to be a father?"

"Is CEO Jeon Jungkook involved in another affair?"

He tosses his phone aside and gulps, his heart sinking. Rumors are one thing, but rumors involving you? That's something he can't stand. He needs to protect you.

;

Your next appointment is in two weeks, marking your eighth month of pregnancy—so close to labor now. You still don't know the baby's gender, but you aren't too curious; whether it's a boy or a girl doesn't really matter to you. All you want is a healthy baby, and you feel confident that will be the case.

As you watch the clock tick, you browse baby clothing websites, filling your cart with favorite outfits to choose from later. You're pretty sure you've added over 250 items by now, but who can resist when everything is so cute? Regardless of gender, you don't plan to stick to traditional colors ;

blue isn't just for boys, and pink isn't only for girls. After all, color doesn't define gender. Bam has been in a playful mood ever since he laid eyes on you. He jumps around, circles you, and constantly licks you, overflowing with affection. Your love for this dog is indescribable, and you can't wait to see the bond that will form between him and your baby.

After Jungkook shared his fears and expressed his desire to try, you're convinced that this has a real chance. You're not alone in this, and neither is your child. If Jungkook wants to make this a family, you're ready to embrace it with open arms, it's what you want, too. So, when you come across videos of dogs bonding with babies, you watch in awe, dreaming of that special connection for your own child and Bam. "aren't you a good boy Bammie?"

The Doberman gets so excited when you call him by the nickname you chose that he practically demands your attention, even while you're already petting him and talking to him. "Oh, you're such a good boy!" you coo, "and me?" just then, you hear Jungkook's voice as he approaches, setting his bag down by the couch.

After shrugging off his coat and washing up, he heads toward you, a warm grin on his face. "What about you?" you tease, noticing how his presence sparks a surge of energy within you. He's home, and he's getting closer, his eyes fixed on you with that look you love. He glances at you sitting comfortably in a fitted vest, your chest and baby bump so prominent, it's a sight he can't get enough of.

He gives Bam a gentle pat, motioning for the dog to move, then settles beside you. "Am I a good boy?" he asks, dimples showing as he bites his lip, watching you with those soft, round eyes. After a long, stressful day, being here with you fills him with the peace he's been craving. "Hmm," you murmur, moving your face closer to his, studying his tired features;

his slightly droopy eyes show his fatigue, yet the way he looks at you and smiles reveals he's still present. "You're okay. Not amazing, but not terrible," you say, tracing his jawline with your fingers. His eyes stay locked on your lips as you speak. After last night, Jungkook senses that there's more between you both. "Is that so?" he whispers, leaning in. "Yes..."

you hum, surprised when he softly kisses your lips. The touch relaxes you, like you've waited for it for days, not hours. "I missed you," he murmurs, nudging his nose against yours. "Mm-hmm, me too..." you respond, fingers tapping on his smooth skin as you admire him. He gazes at you a moment, then clicks his tongue and looks away, asking,

"Which city do your parents live in?" "Toronto." "Thought so. I'll book the tickets then." You smile and nod, feeling slightly anxious. "For when?" "This Friday sound good?" he asks. "Yes." Jungkook picks up his phone, texting someone as he talks to you. "Let your parents know, then." "Okay..."

Your voice drops, and he notices, turning off his phone to look at you. "Nervous? Not sure what to expect?" he asks softly. You nod, eyes fixed on your bump, fingers tracing patterns on the couch fabric. "Hey..." he places a comforting hand over yours. "It'll be alright." You give him a tight smile and nod. "By the way... how far along is she?" he asks suddenly, surprising you.

"She's seven months now—almost eight in two weeks." Jungkook's eyes widen; it hits him just how close you are to the due date. "Wow..." he chuckles, realizing he'd guessed wrong when talking to Yoongi. Curious, you ask, "Why a 'she' now? Last night you called the baby a 'he.' What do you think the gender is?"

Instinctively, you feel it's a girl, but you want to know his thoughts. He hums, thinking aloud as he glances down at your bump, trying to decide. "I think... boy. But—" "But?" you prompt as he hesitates, his hand trembling as he reaches to place it on your bump, only to pull back and place it on your palm instead.

You guide his hand to rest over your bump, holding it there. He hesitates but eventually relaxes into the touch. "But...?" you ask again, watching him. He looks down, then smiles softly. "I want her." You blush at his words, the pink in your cheeks spreading across your face, making him smile.

He loves seeing you like this, and now that he's working on himself and the bond the three of you share, he realizes he's becoming a little obsessed with making you happy. "I want her too..." you murmur. "Looks like we're both on team girl, huh?" he replies, rubbing your bump and lingering, secretly hoping he'll feel a little kick. His gaze stays fixed on your belly, and you sense his wish, so you gently guide his hand lower.

"She's here. Just wait for her," you whisper, and he patiently focuses, waiting to feel something—anything at all. His brow furrows with concentration, but after a while, neither of you feel any movement. "Guess she's not in the mood for a kick," you say softly. He nods, smiling tightly as he pulls his hand away. "Maybe... she's just not ready for me either,"

he murmurs, his voice trailing off as he stands. Feeling a twinge of sadness, you stand as well, grabbing his coat while he picks up his bag, and the two of you head upstairs in silence. He takes a cold shower, then slips on his sweatpants and a black t-shirt before stepping out of the bathroom, and using a towel to dry his damp hair. You're sitting on the couch, watching him.

"What?" he asks, catching your gaze before turning to the mirror to apply his skincare. You walk up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. The bump presses into his back before the rest of you can it's a little awkward, but it works. You look up at him, meeting his eyes in the mirror's reflection.

"What's wrong?" you ask softly. He sighs, resting his hand over yours on his waist. "just had a bad day.." he murmurs. "you can tell me about it, if you want to." Jungkook's heart clenches at how soft you sound like you do not want to intrude but you also want him to know that you're always there for him. he loves the feeling of being cared for and you give him, so much that he feels so lucky. "work is getting stressful."

he says leaving out the rumors and the whole Yoongi mess from you because he does not want to worry you. "it will be fine. work is not work if it isn't stressful." You say this, and he chuckles, nodding.

Your hand rubs his stomach to comfort him, sending a flutter through him. He loves how gently you treat him, like he's someone precious, making him feel like a child in the best way. "Hey, you come here!" he says, grabbing your hand and turning you to face him, his tone playful. You can't help but smile as he relaxes. "I think you're forgetting something..."

he teases, watching you frown in thought. He bites his inner cheek, waiting for you to remember that silly dream you had. "What did I forget?" you ask, a bit lost. He groans, laughing. "Your dancing tanghulu dream!" "Ohhh!" you start to laugh, trying to hold it in, but it escapes, and he chuckles along with you.

"I got them for you," he says. "You did?!" you exclaim, eyes lighting up. He nods, leading you downstairs, where a brown paper bag sits on the counter. You open it to find a box with strawberries, grapes, and tomatoes coated in a glistening sugar syrup, skewered on sticks. your eyes sparkle at the fruits in front of you as you grab one and poke it into your mouth.

"careful bear, the edge might hurt you." He leans back against the counter, watching as you savor a mouthful of the crisp, sugar-coated fruits. A soft moan escapes you as you close your eyes, head tilted back in bliss. "My cravings are finally satisfied!" you declare. "Is that so?" he teases. "Mm-hmm, try one!"

You bring a piece to his lips, but he shakes his head, smiling. "Have one!" you insist, nudging him. He wraps his arms around your hips, opening his mouth as you press a strawberry to his lips. He bites into it, and your palm hovers beneath his chin to catch any sugar bits that fall, which you quickly pop into your mouth, licking your fingers. "Good, right?" you ask.

"Mm-hmm," he hums, satisfied. As you reach for a grape skewer, he gestures for you to stand between his legs, so you press your back to his chest, leaning into him as you munch on the rest of the fruit. Occasionally, you offer him a bite, though you end up eating most of it yourself. "Happy?"

he asks, and you nod eagerly. His heart swells as he watches you, delighted just to see you smile. Gently, he brushes his fingertips along your lips, collecting the little sugar crystals, then pops them into his mouth. When he reaches to get the last bit, you stick out your tongue, licking his finger clean.

His eyes darken slightly, watching you with a smirk. "You're quite the tease." you slowly nod with your lips still wrapping around his finger, your tongue rolling. "you taste good." you say after you let go of his finger with a pop sound. "you know what else tastes good..."

his voice raspy as he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. "what is?" you whisper innocently, like have no idea what he's gonna say next when you very well know what it is. "my dick, baby." your fingertip traces his chest and abs, you feel his nipple harden at your touch, he bites back a moan. "that i know."

you whisper as you lean closer to him, pressing your lips on his neck. "y/n.." he groans and grips your hips tighter. "yes babe..." the butterflies that he felt when you call him that. "call me that again."

you press your lips to his ear and suck on it as you whisper. "babe.."

"fuck"

"you like that?" you ask as you palm his bulge.

"fucking love it."

next chapter ⇢

#bts fanfic #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #one night stand #theagstd #jeon jungkook #btswritersclub #bts #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n

155 notes · View notes

dryams03 · 1 year ago

Text

▷Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 5

Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6

With his arms chained and a mask covering his mouth and nose to help him breathe, Evil is escorted by four guards to the White Palace, the central hub of the Fangs kingdom and home of their king. The individuals escorting the pale man looked like Sasha when he first met her; instead of legs, they had long shark tails. However, their skin had a grayish hue, and they had gills in the neck area. As they advanced, more beings with human-like features emerged, glaring at the prisoner. Eventually they reached an area filled with enormous buildings, bright lights and several aquatic creatures swimming around. It was like a grand underwater civilization, which they easily traversed as the inhabitants feared the guards and made way for them. At this point, Evil began to understand what the young man had told him earlier about the shape-shifting creatures; many of these beings were more advanced than he had initially believed.

After passing through the city, they stood before a massive silver castle with several watchtowers, covered by a spherical force field. With their arrival an opening was created in the force field for Evil and his captors to enter. After a series of protocols, they arrived before King Dand, a Fang measuring about 3 meters with impressive musculature. He had white skin in the front and black skin in the back, a dorsal fin, dark eyes, a long hair floating over his shoulders, a mouth full of sharp teeth, a blue crown atop his head, and the characteristic gills of his species. He sat on his grand throne, which matched the castle's color, and to his left was a massive black lance with a blade resembling an axe head.

—Your majesty, we have the criminal who has been attacking our citizens —One of the guards reported, bowing before the king and referring to Evil.

—So, this is him, huh? He doesn't seem very threatening —King Dand remarked. Descending from his throne and swimming toward Evil, the Fang grabbed the angel by the hair. —He looks like a mere human to me. —A statement he was about to take back as soon as he noticed Evil's pupil-less eyes. —No, not just a human, something else...- Dand smirked, chuckled and returned to his throne. -Take him away, execute him, and...

—Is there something wrong, my lord? —A guard asked upon seeing his king in total silence while staring intently at the prisoner. The soldier did not know it, but the king was receiving a telepathic message from Evil.

—Believe me, I can be of use to you. As you can see, I'm not just any human; I have abilities. If you spare my life, you'll have a new resource for whatever you might need. —Evil transfered, the monarch seemed reflective about this offer. —Change of plans, take him to the cells and leave him there. Perhaps he'll be useful to us in the future.

They quickly took him to a remote area deep within the kingdom, a complex of high-tech prison structures ensuring that those who entered could not escape, an almost perfect system. When they reached a cell, Evil was left there and a massive metal door covered the entrance, completely trapping him between four walls. Moments later, a device removed the water from the area and took off Evil's chains and breathing mask. After a couple of stretches, he used his powers to create a thick smoke cover and teleported back home. Unfortunately, his house was in ruins; furniture, decorations, books, and various items were destroyed and worst of all, Sasha was nowhere to be found. Evil let out an scream full of wrath and, using his powers, reappeared back in his cell.

Now in the Fang Kingdom's prison, the angel enveloped his body with white light energy, with his supernatural strength, he broke the cell and used the energy to move as fast as a bullet, going towards the castle. When he arrived, he collided with the force field and subsequently separated all the water outside the castle, creating an opening to the surface. Using a water whirlwind, he rose into the skies, where he floated near some clouds, compressing them into rain clouds that began to shoot lightnings. At this point, Evil himself was struck by the energy of the lightning as he stood at the center of the clouds. In an instant, he dispelled the clouds and his body was surrounded by electricity, resembling a walking thunderstorm. His face reflected an incredible rage over Sasha's loss and his suspicion of the Fangs. He was determined to eliminate them mercilessly. He extended his arm toward the castle and released all the energy from the lightning that coursed through his body. Though he couldn't shatter the force field, he left it cracked. Evil dove at high speed and delivered a powerful kick to the weakened area, ultimately shattering the barrier. He then descended into the throne room, destroying roofs and towers along his path. The inhabitants, and even several guards, fled in terror to save their lives far from the area. Finding himself in the king's hall, he saw the king on the floor struggling to breath.

The angel restored the sea, returning the waters to its place. The pale man held his breath and grabbed Dand by the neck. —Where is she? —Interrogating with his mental powers, he searched for Sasha's location in the Fang's memories. Why here? Why them? Evil was convinced it was them, given Sasha's fear. He suspected that they had a past connection and he did not have any other leads.

—I don't know who you're talking about! —Dand replied, confused, visibly angered, and somehow powerless after witnessing such a display of power.

—Don't play dumb with me! —Evil shouted, causing the waters to move violently, knocking down walls. Then, he placed both hands on Dand's face and entered his mind, seeking information. Unfortunately, he found nothing about Sasha. Instead, he discovered the location of the second king, Fog. To buy some time, he shattered Dand's mind, leaving him unconscious.

He quickly shot out of the water and flew towards a vast land of jungles and forests. Controlling the air, he propels himself to glide silently over a palace amidst the jungle, devoid of any signs of a city or villages, unlike the Fangs realm. Stealthily, he descends and hides among the trees. From the shadows, he observes guards with green scales and tails, carrying various weapons like shields, swords, and spears. He then looks into the distance, identifying King Fog, a two meters tall individual in gray clothes and a long cape, with a large tail, white scales, and hair of the same color covering his body. He had slit pupils in his eyes and a crown that complemented his cape. Beside him are scantily clad women, one of them being Sasha. As he witnessed this, he lunges at one of the guards, biting his neck and tearing it off. The king is surprised and rises from his throne. Meanwhile, a dozen guards arrive, surrounding Evil. He slowly stood up, and black lines appear all over his body; his blood had turned this color, and his veins had swollen. This was Evil's regenerative ability. When his blood and veins returned to normal, his large black wings extended from his back. All the guards were stunned, and the king seemed nervous. Evil, with a maniacal smile, dissipates into shadows and swiftly appears behind each guard, decapitating them one by one by cutting their necks with the strength of his hands. Blood jets cover the ground, leaving no time for them to react, bones, heads and vomit of those who were seconds away from dying decorate this gross puddle. The monarch remained calm, knowing that one wrong move could lead to his death, but internally, he was terrified by the scene. With the same speed, Evil stands in front of the king. By now, all the women had seized the moment to escape, while Sasha was lying on the ground, looking at Evil with great fear for what was happening before her. Fog steps aside, allowing Evil to take Sasha. The angel walked towards the girl and delivers a surprising kick to Fog, sending him kilometers into the jungle. He crouches in front of Sasha, embracing her and covering her with his wings, saying a phrase:

—Now everything will be fine, my mermaid.

#nɪx #af #comments as feedback are well appreciated!#next chapter already on wattpad #after five #after five chronicles #sander writings #drya art #oc #original world #original works #artists on tumblr #writers on tumblr

3 notes · View notes

randomshyperson · 10 months ago

Text

Old Yellow Bricks - Heart Shaped Series

Chapter Summary: The conclusion to the adventures of an international thief and an Avenger witch. Or the one where you stop skipping work, Valentina answers the phone and Wanda does an ultrasound.

Warnings: (+18), smut (wanda taking the lead ‘cause that’s hot), bl*wjob, unprotected s*x, creampie, more shapeshifting stuff, some supervillain drama, minor angst with a happy ending I promise. | Words: 7.094k

A/N-> Hey folks, yes, I know I disappeared for a long time but I was so busy and mentally exhausted that I couldn't keep writing anymore, and I used practically half of my vacation just to get a decent amount of sleep. This story was almost abandoned, but I decided to give it an ending, even if it was a bit hasty, out of affection for the plot and out of consideration for those who have followed it up until now. I hope you aren't too dissatisfied with the ending, I tried to address any loose ends and leave it open to the canon we already know. Good reading.

General Masterlist | Wattpad | AO3 | Series Masterlist

-&-

It shouldn't come as a surprise that you got caught. But you did, mainly because for the past weeks you've felt so comfortable around Wanda that for a moment, you weren't you. No international bounty for your head, not gangs or supervillains or big schemes.

Just you and Wanda.

Your small argument with the Black Widow was to blame for your distracted state, but fairly, those men were probably following you for a while now, just waiting for the right opportunity to show themselves.

They weren’t aggressive, despite everything. You're just walking a little further from the hotel and this Van - Strategically hidden with paintings from a pest control service - was parked next to the sidewalk and you immediately knew. The door opened and nobody came out.

It was an invitation.

You took a deep breath and a last glance at the street before getting in.

The face of one of Valentina's most trustworthy henchmen, Mrs. Cassian Camorra, came to focus in the poorly lit car. He was not alone, masked guards armed to the teeth took every other seat. The only vacant spot was for you.

With a discreet shift, there was no longer much difference between your muscles and theirs. The change made the white-collar man chuckle at you.

“There's no need for that, reaper.” Says Cassian with a smirk. “We're not here for a fight.”

You stare at him with an indifferent expression, lifting your chin a little.

“The Guns send a different message.” You say but he smiles again just before nodding to the others, who immediately relax their alarmed posture even though they continue to listen to the conversation. In that small space, it would be impossible to do anything else.

You don't let your guard down but sigh once your eyes meet Cassian’s again.

“I don't go by that name anymore, Cass, you know that.”

He chuckles. “Would you prefer shithead?” He teases but you roll your eyes, wishing this conversation would end soon. He laughs again at your expression. “I still don't understand why you would be ashamed of one of your greatest achievements. The Reaper was a goddamn legend! The name gave people the chills!” He recalls excitedly.

You swallow, shifting in your seat. “Just tell me what you are here for.” You cut his enthusiasm with a sharp demand, managing to make your voice deeper. The security guard next to him has this immediate reaction of touching his gun, but you offer him a cocky smirk before focusing on Cassian again.

He adjusts his suit, one of his hands moving to his jacket pocket to grab something. A small purple cart is extended to you but you don't move a muscle.

“I'm not looking for a job at the moment.” You tell him but he chuckles, flipping the card to show you the back of it.

You thought it was the traditional mission paper with a coding at the back, for you to find target information but instead of that habitual info, there's a written number there.

“The Countess asks to meet in person.”

You don't grab the card. “If that is what she wants, then why didn't she come here herself?”

The man chuckles, and without giving a damn about the concept of personal space, he moves his hands to find your pocket and shove the card inside.

“The Countess is a clever woman, child. Why on earth would she talk business with your new superhero friends around?”

“They are not my friends.” You mutter, pushing his hands away with a slap before pulling the card out of your pocket. “And if she really wished to see me, her face would be the one to welcome me into this car.”

But when you make mention of getting up, Cassian loses some of the calm facade he kept so far.

“Sit your spoiled ass back right now, kid.” The bodyguards in the two seats behind you grab you by the shoulders, but their hands move away once you are back at your spot so you don't try to start a new fight. “This is the problem with Valentina's little freaks. You all think you're special. She's too soft with your type, so you grow confident in your insignificance. Let me tell you what's going to happen if you don't take this cordial invitation seriously, Lady Fontaine. Every favor for your protection, every deal, is off. You won't be CIA protégée anymore, you'll be on your own. For once in your life. That might talk some sense into your head.”

The anger is burning in your chest because of the cruel words but it spreads around with shame and guilt. Tears beg their way to your eyes but you keep your cheeks dry.

“I've been alone my whole life, Cass. You don't know shit.”

But he laughs, truly, as if you're joking.

“Alone? You? Hydra's golden egg goose?” He mocked managing some chuckles from his colleagues. “You're the one who doesn't know shit, you brat. You have no idea what people like us would do to have the kind of protection you so proudly display without a second thought. The mansions, the travels, the luxury. All that money. And don’t get me started on the attitude. The rest of us living in the gutter, trying to survive out of crumbs while freaks like you get to walk around like you own the world.” He narrates with a trace of bitterness and contained hatred that makes you shudder. “How many times have you walked out of prison? Do you think it's the same for the rest of us? That we get those same privileges?”

Some redness escapes to your cheeks but you manage to keep your cool.

“I have no power over how things happen in our line of work, Cass. And I am hardly the one you should be angry at. Those privileges you say, believe me, they came at a very high price.”

But Cassian rolls his eyes, dismissing your words with a hand gesture. “Fragile. You always have been. Crybaby should be your next nickname.”

You sigh impatiently and this time, when you move to open the door and leave the car, they allow it without any fight. Standing on the sidewalk, you hear Cass hold the door open and look at him one last time.

He leans for one last warning. “If you ignore her invitation, she will have her answer. And we will be back, this time, not for a conversation.” He lets you know with a little smile that makes you shallow hard. The possibility of putting Wanda in danger makes your heart miss a beat. And when Cass lets out a small exclamation as if remembering something, you somehow know it's not a good thing. He searches in his other pocket only to take a small photo.

“Almost forgot. She asked me to give you this. A gesture of trust, she said.”

But that was nothing trustworthy about Valentina being aware of you and Wanda's relationship, especially for such a long time. The picture is from a security camera and is clear by the poor definition, but still, that day is still fresh in your mind as if it happened yesterday. The Avengers fair you once infiltrate to find Wanda, only for her to end any plan you might had or ever could by kissing you. Inside those tents you were safe but outside, the camera caught the last kiss you stole from her before your departure.

The fact that Valentina knew about this, for so long, makes you feel sick in your stomach.

You don't take the picture - it's a symbol of the false freedom you possessed under Valentina's wigs. You storm off and hear the agents giggling and muttering threats before the car is gone, and so are you when you make a curve that takes you back to the hotel parking lot.

The whole thing made your blood boil. How dare she? What was she even after, what did that photo even mean? Was it a treat? Or it could really be a gesture of trust? Something like, yes she knew and she never did anything about it, so maybe Valentina doesn't want your complete misery. But then again, you know her well enough to tell that every action she takes is a well-planned one. If she knew about your relationship with Wanda and allowed that with no fuss other than a small bait in the first weeks, telling you to read Avengers files in an attempt to get you away from Wanda, then for sure, Valentina had a bigger plan.

And for once in your life, you're done with being the pawn.

Wanda's asleep when you're back in your shared motel room so you do your best to keep it quiet on your way to the bathroom.

This will be painful but you're confident you can manage, with your powers help at least.

The small device hidden under your ribs is a high-tech tracker and it's your last physical connection to your old life. It doesn't work unless you want it to, because it answers to a biological stimulation only you can provide. Baron von Strucker gave this to you as a work tool, if you were ever captured, you could call for help without anyone being aware.

You haven't tried to use the device purposefully in years, but sometimes, when being too hurt, it would activate on its own. And because it's quite easy to forget a hidden object behind your ribs, it occurred to you that it has been active since you bled out in Greece, the same day Wanda called to tell you she was pregnant.

The realization that Valentina was aware of your location for so long, Wanda's and her friends especially, rips a sob to your throat. It’s more painful to know you’ve been putting her in danger than the open wound.

You muffle down your crying the second you hear the bed shifting. But luckily Wanda doesn't wake up. Taking a deep breath, your shaky hands keep doing the hard work - to cut open with a medical kit's scalpel your skin so you can remove the tracker.

It's painful of course but it ends quickly. You don't need a badge but it does take a lot of energy to heal on your own so when you're finally back at the bed, after destroying the little device with a squeeze, storing everything else, and getting clean, you're quite exhausted. Stumbling around, you do a poor job of laying down without much noise.

Your girlfriend only grumbles sleepy in return before her magic brings you closer to her body.

-&-

“Wake up.”

It's less gentle than previous attempts, but Wanda had to do it. You were really disturbed in your sleep - mumbling and sweating as if you were running.

Your restlessness and discomfort disturbed her greatly, but she gives you a tender smile as she sees all the tension ease when you meet her eyes.

Sleepily, you close your eyes again the next moment and Wanda takes the opportunity to move the sweaty hair away from your face.

"You were having a nightmare." She mumbles, and she's almost sitting on your lap so you think that it would be a waste to miss the opportunity. Your hands bring her into the position with ease, but Wanda has concern on her face. "Talk to me, detka."

A smile fills your lips, and you remain in a half-asleep state. "I love it when you call me that. You're so lovely, Wanda."

A faint blush fills your cheeks, but Wanda is determined to clarify a few things. "You came back late and as big as a bodyguard. I want to know what happened." She says, and seeing you sigh with your eyes closed, she frowns her heart racing. "Did you find trouble?"

"No, everything's fine." You retort quickly, stubbornly. And Wanda tilts her head incredulously at the clear lie. You finally look her in the eye, and she thinks it's unfair that you're such a pretty liar. Unable to hold her gaze, you look away, the flush on your face more from embarrassment than anything else. "It was nothing." You correct, annoyed, and Wanda sighs at the whole thing. She hopes that one day, your barriers won't have to be so raised all the time and you'll be able to trust her by instinct. But considering the kind of life you've led so far, maybe something like that is just impossible to achieve.

She moves one of her hands to your face, caressing the skin tenderly. "If you can't put it into words, let me see."

You close your eyes again, nodding, and the invasion is almost immediate. The whole thing happens very quickly - Wanda is getting better at it. Accessing last night's memories is easy, the hard part is dealing with their significance.

When she comes to her senses, the room comes into focus again and so does your turned-away face. Pure guilt and shame in your expression.

"I'm sorry." You say promptly, your voice a bit tearful. " I keep fucking things up. I brought them to us because I forgot the damn tracking, and I got everyone in danger. I understand if you're angry and want to shout at me."

Wanda sighs at the words, shaking her head. "No one's going to be yelling at anyone." She says, her hands moving lower to pull your shirt up a little. She traces the new scar, feeling some of the tension leave her shoulders as she sees that, apparently, you've healed fine.

"Don't ever do anything like this again." She says, and you sniffle.

"That was the only trace I had-"

"Not that." She cuts in seriously, waiting for you to look at her. Wanda looks more hurt than angry and that confuses you. "You can't just self-harm in the bathroom and sew yourself back up in silence. You have to tell me things. You should let me take care of you, all right?"

Aware that the warmth spreading through your chest is quickly creeping up your neck and ears, you give up on putting together a coherent sentence. You nod quickly, and Wanda gives a weak laugh.

"I'm not angry." She continues, adjusting your shirt again, although her hands remain underneath, drawing patterns on your skin as she speaks. "You're always so... jumpy. And you get into trouble like it's second nature. And you're so incredibly stubborn-"

"Thanks." You grumble ironically, but your annoyance turns into a choke when you feel Wanda shift in your lap. It's an intentional fit at your hips, she's probably noticed the bulge you'd forgotten you were even carrying now. And the fit takes the air out of your lungs and makes your body jerk gently, waking you up completely.

Wanda doesn't pay a second's attention to your reactions as she continues to talk. "You also have this habit of not letting me finish my sentences." She says with a little grin, her eyes dilating as your breathing starts to get heavy. "And I have to admit that you're hard work, but darling, you're worth every second of that effort. I wish I could take all the pain out of your past, but since I can't, I need you to understand that you're no longer dealing with things on your own. That I'm as devoted to you as you are to me."

These are romantic, intense, and considerate words. But Wanda is grinding slowly against your hips as she says them and you can only return a desperate nod, a deep moan tearing its way into your throat.

Wanda won't even let you lead - Your hands grab her barely covered ass through the oversized shirt she's stolen from you in an attempt to intensify the friction, but bright magic threads pull your wrists away in the next second.

With your hands pinned to the headboard, you can only squirm at the mercy of the woman on top of you.

"You feel bigger than last time, baby." She whispers, almost losing her train of thought during a particularly hard thrust against your hips. You struggle to breathe.

But Wanda stops, and you bite back a sigh of frustration as you stare at her in a mixture of desperation and curiosity. She works with a certain urgency on your underwear, but instead of rewarding you with her warm cunt, she moves away until she's between your legs, her nails scratching your thighs.

"W-wanda, what are you doing?" You ask, suddenly very shy, your eyes slightly wide. She giggles, as her magic removes your underwear completely, and she leans in, planting kisses on your thighs that make you shiver.

Her dominant hand finally grabs your length and it's not very gentle so you let out something between a moan and a whimper and Wanda looks at you with a certain regret.

"Sorry, babe." She says softly, still holding you now more carefully. "I've never done this before."

Your mouth is dry, and your eyes want to close and just enjoy the sensation, but you fight these instincts to speak. "Done what, Wanda?"

She giggles mischievously, and her hand moves slowly, giving a tentative squeeze that makes the muscles in your thigh twitch. "You know what." She says in return, although you both share the strong blush on the cheeks, Wanda seems more confident about what she's about to do. "It can't be that hard. And if I do something wrong, you can just tell me to stop."

"Wanda, you don’t have to-" But she leans in, and unceremoniously takes your member into her mouth. You break down in an aroused sob, arching up on the bed.

It's heaven, you're sure. Wanda Maximoff decided to wake you up with a blowjob, it’s a gift from the heavens that you must definitely don’t deserve but you won’t complain. You struggle against the magical chains just as you struggle to breathe and not to come immediately when Wanda continues to suck you off.

It's sloppy at first - as she mentioned, she had never done that before. But the lack of practice doesn't make the act any less deliriously enjoyable. You feel very close very quickly and have to use all your concentration when Wanda meets your gaze, mouth full.

"Jesus." You groan, your whole body vibrating. Wanda pulls back, licking the tip and your eyes roll back. "Fuck."

She revels in your moans as much as she does in the whole thing. She can feel her own core throbbing at seeing you so pathetically at her mercy, but she wants you to finish first. Her hand moves to help and with each lick of the head leaking pre-cum, your body jerks in a way that makes the bed shake.

"Come on, baby, you can cum." She encourages you firmly as she alternates between sucking and licking. "You need this. And I got you."

You cry out the warning, and Wanda takes your whole length so as not to waste a drop. Your back arches on the bed, and the hot shot is deep into her throat. Wanda moans in return, making a mess all around as you try to return to orbit, your chest heaving and your body jerking.

She kisses your now flaccid member, biting back a smile as she watches the final throbs. Taking advantage of your state, Wanda resumes her previous position on your lap. Her magic fades from your wrists.

Just the brief rubbing of her thick thighs against you is enough for Wanda to feel you harden again.

"Are you sure, babe? You're still shaking." She asks teasingly, but all you give in return is an affected chuckle, your hands helping her to settle into you. The invasion happens slowly, and Wanda groans satisfied at the proof that yes, you are bigger. The stretching is gentle, and it's not painful because she's soaked, but it's still there and she has to bite her lips as she slowly sinks down until you bottom up.

Panting together, you watch her adoringly, your hands on her hips helping her move.

Wanda doesn't rush things. She rides you leisurely, feeling every inch of your cock inside her warm walls until the slowness is too overwhelming.

Her hands rest on your shoulders, and you don't care that her nails are digging into your skin because Wanda feels too good for you to think of any other sensation than that tight pussy wrapping around you.

She holds your gaze, and between the grunts and moans she lets you know; "I love you." You can only nod, trying to gasp the same when Wanda suddenly bounces harder.

One of your hands grips with more strength, enough to mark the skin and she has to grab the headboard for a firmer support.

You groan at her nearly roughness; "Easy, woman." You try, even though she's grinding vigorously and the room has started to spin. "Wanda, damn it. Be more... ah... careful. You're pregnant...slow down… God."

She comes first, which is a surprise because you honestly don't know how you managed to hold it for so long.

You're still coming inside her when she collapses on top of you, falling down against your shoulder. But then there's satisfied laughter filling the room, and a joke about that being a very incredible way to start a day.

-&-

It's decided that you guys need to move as soon as you and Wanda are properly dressed and Wanda has encouraged you to be honest with the other Avengers.

And she also doesn't need to be a mind reader to know that there's something wrong with Natasha, who doesn't offer more than a mumble of agreement and doesn't say anything about you keeping a tracker jammed in your ribs all this time.

While Wanda goes out to buy breakfast for the team, you stay behind and busy yourself packing the bags. But she is recognized at the grocery store near the motel when she tries to buy breakfast. It's just a child and her older sister, wanting photos with an Avenger, but it still causes her so much anxiety that she goes back to the bedroom with something more than food: a box of hair dye.

"I thought I'd follow Natasha's idea." That's what she gives as an explanation, and you laugh confusedly but end up believing it until Wanda has bleached spots and ends up confessing what really made her late.

You're standing in the doorway, and she's focused on painting her hair, her eyes meeting yours through the reflection in the bathroom mirror.

"I'm sorry for not saying it right away. I just didn't want to worry you."

You let out a sigh before offering her a small smile. "No problem, love." You assure her, reaching over to pick up the empty box of the product and read some of the labeling on the back. "I'm more concerned about whether pregnant women can dye their hair."

Your comment makes Wanda giggle. Her magic continues the process of coloring the spots, and she busies herself with washing her hands at the sink.

"Well, most pregnant women can't manipulate energy and move things with their minds. I think I'll survive." She jokes back, sticking her tongue out at you when you smile. It ends up being a small grimace battle before you return the empty box to the garbage can and lean in to steal a kiss from her.

Wanda smiles through it, but her cold, wet hands reach under your blouse and make you jump. She laughs at the reaction, and you can barely notice the time passing as you play with each other and wait for the dye to finish settling on your locks.

When Wanda disappears back into the bathroom for a while, you wait for her to finish washing her hair and nothing really prepares you for the new look. Your girlfriend is slightly shy as she reappears, the towel still slung over her shoulders.

"So, what do you think?" She asks about the red hair and you swallow dry, speechless. Wanda blushes immediately, a nervous giggle escaping her lips. "What?"

"You look..." Your voice fails you and you have to clear your throat. "Really beautiful."

Wanda smiles, but then raises an eyebrow, gesturing gently in your direction. "It does seem that you truly like it, dear, I'm flattered."

You blink in confusion, before following her gaze and noticing your own body, and the bulge in your pants. Grinning in embarrassment, you quickly cover yourself with the nearest pillow. "Sorry." You mumble with your ears burning, but Wanda giggles, glancing quickly at the ajar door.

"I wonder if we still have time before we leave." She comments, scarlet threads appearing through the wood with the thought of closing it, but as if guessing the intentions of a delay, the door suddenly opens and Captain Rogers is practically pushed inside by Natasha.

"Nice change, Maximoff. But I hope your suitcases are ready." That's what the widow said, and she looked stressed, most likely because of all the stories about her adventures the night before. If your embarrassment over the tracker story wasn't enough, there was the other one you were trying to hide under your pillow. Wanda disguised it better than you, nodding quickly to the widow and gesturing toward the ready backpacks. "Steve can you take these to the quinjet please, I want to have a word with Romeo and Juliet."

The Captain sighed, trying to ignore being made a baggage handler - Muscles must be good for something - and offered you and Natasha a sympathetic look before leaving the room.

The widow closed the door but you spoke first. “Listen Nat, if this is a second scolding for the tracker, I've already made sure it can't be retraced and-"

"That's not it." She interrupts you with a certain determination, then a forced smile. "I've found a doctor for you. For Wanda, to be more exact."

The now red-haired woman gives Nat a surprised look and it's you who asks; "Are you sure it's safe? Risking a medical appointment in the situation we're in."

"You underestimate me."

"I didn't mean it like that."

But Nat smiles genuinely, shrugging. She checks her watch.

"We're actually going to meet her. Apart from Banner, she's the only doctor I trust."

You and Wanda exchange a look before nodding to Natasha in thanks. Your girlfriend then asks; "That's not all you wanted to talk about, is it Nat?"

The widow nods, seeming to get upset for a moment.

"I'm not saying this for the tracker story, I swear I'm not, but... maybe it's better if Y/N doesn't stay with us anymore."

Wanda snorts indignantly, ready to protest, especially as you lower your head.

"We stay together-"

"I know." Natasha cuts off Wanda's defensiveness with a sigh. "I wouldn't expect otherwise." She mutters, taking a deep breath to gather her courage. "Rogers doesn't agree, you know how protective he is over you. I mean, he was pretty indignant when Tony tried to ground you in the Tower. Anyway, that's not the point. Clint left. He accepted a decent deal until things settle down, and yes, they will settle down. I know it feels like our world has turned upside down overnight, but we need to remember why the Avengers were created in the first place. It's only a matter of time before they need us, all of us again, and maybe it's experience talking, but I've seen so many governments collapse and rise again. I have seen this movie before."

The widow vents and you and Wanda don't have the heart to interrupt her.

"What I mean is that Clint can make a deal for his family, and maybe you can do the same."

Wanda thinks for a moment until she swallows. "I'm not an agent with years of military service to my credit. General Ross would never offer me a deal."

"Not him. And not to you." Natasha retorts, turning her face towards you.

You sigh deeply as you understand exactly what she's implying. " Is there really no other option?"

Natasha gives you a sympathetic smile. "That's not an ultimatum, mercenary. Just think about it. None of us wants a pregnant woman in the life of a fugitive, and don't make that face Wanda, I know you don't want the baby to be in danger either." Your girlfriend begrudgingly shuts up, knowing that the widow is right. "Just give it a thought. Melina has agreed to do the prenatal care, so you have all this time to make a decision."

Natasha nods in farewell before heading out the door, and you turn to Wanda.

"Do you have any idea who Melina is?"

-&-

In the safety of the Quinjet and the untraceable lines of the Avengers, you call Contessa Fontaine.

The first thing Valentina says when she sees your face in the high-definition hologram is a scolding; "That tracker was worth a billion dollars."

You have to laugh, your back resting on the cold metal of the ship. "Can't say I'm sorry, boss. Having a tracker in the middle of your ribs doesn't scream work ethic."

She gives a short laugh, and you realize from the surroundings that she's in the private room of the Fontaine Mansion, a place you've been to countless times before.

"What can I do for you, my dear child?" She asks, slightly impatient. You swallow dry.

"Your people said you wanted to see me." You comment.

Valentina laughs wryly. "Oh, yes, in person. Not talking through an Avengers line. You must have lost your mind."

"There are no more Avengers, Val, you know that." You retort, and she smiles in satisfaction.

"Touche." She mutters before raising her bright eyes to you. "But let me guess, they're listening to this conversation."

You sigh impatiently. "What difference does it make? I've been with them for weeks. I could have told them all the secrets I know about your work, but I didn't. Just as you didn't inform General Ross of their location. So how about we stop playing games?"

Valentina gives another evil little laugh, nodding. "Oh, dear, I miss our conversations, you're always so direct and attentive. Yes, I didn't hand over Team America to Ross, because unlike that arrogant fool, I have no interest in seeing our heroes trapped in the Raft. Only someone like Ross and his ballistics background would think of something as stupid as taking out Earth's main line of defense for threats we have no means of dealing with." You remain silent at Val's words, and she takes a breath to continue. "You know me, Y/N. I like my... enhanced ones. I understand the grandeur of this new world, men like Ross, impressionable with colored rifles, don't."

"So... you've been trying to help the Avengers?"

She breaks into a laugh. "Help? Don't go that far." She retorts grinning. "Let's say we had allied objectives up to the present moment. And I have no reason to put them out of work, you know? In any case, perhaps a little time out of the spotlight and struggling will lower some of their egos. It's a shame that Mr. Stark always seems to shrug off the consequences of his actions, he could learn something without having billions to spare."

You sigh without patience for the speech, adjusting your body. "Val, speaking of money-"

"Oh, it's about time."

With a short laugh, you continue; "I need mine."

She looks at you for a moment, before smiling. "Your money has always been yours to use. Nothing has changed."

But you force a smile, not quite believing it. "Everything has changed, Val. I don't want Lady Fontaine's money. I don't want to be one of your pawns. I want a new account, a new life. With everything I've worked to earn."

"And what makes you think I can give it to you?"

You snort, rubbing a stress point on your forehead. "Please, Val, don't take me for someone naïve, who doesn't know the extent of your influence."

But Valentina sighs deeply, resting her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands, to look at you intently.

"In fact, I'm beginning to think that your naivety is indeed remarkable and, unfortunately, my responsibility." She comments, and you chuckle ironically and indignantly, but she doesn't let you question it. "There is no new beginning for you, Y/N. Not the way you're asking me, not the way you really want. You're deluding yourself if you think I can bring in false documents and billions of dollars without anyone ever finding out the truth. That's not how things work. The bill always comes, and a past so stained with red always catches up with people like us." She says and you swallow, not having the heart to interrupt when you know deep down that she's not lying. Despite her seriousness, Valentina's gaze softens: "I know it's not what you wanted to hear, but all is not lost. You've been walking around for weeks with someone who committed as many atrocities as you did, and yet have been allowed to experience the greatest version of freedom a criminal can get."

It takes a moment for you to realize that she's talking about Natasha. You glance quickly at the main area of the quinjet through the glass of the private room they got you to call Val, and your former boss uses this time to light a cigarette.

"I'm not a black widow."

Val chuckles. "Of course not, they fight much better." She comments and you grimace. Val takes a slow drag, blowing smoke against the camera before continuing to talk; "Speaking of them, you should thank your new friend sometime. The amount of black widows she's put on the market looking for work is what's given you so much time off. I'm not short-staffed, thanks to that."

"I'm glad the rescue of trafficked women has given you new employees, Contessa." You sneer in annoyance, stepping out of the way of the video and ignoring her confusion to tap lightly on the glass. The Avengers outside look up at the same time, but you wave for Natasha and Wanda to come inside.

"Where'd you go, little bird?" Val asks the wall, and ends up choking on her smoke as the faces of the two Avengers come into focus next to you. "Oh, hello. What an honor-"

"Cut it, Val." You interrupt annoyedly, squeezed between Natasha and Wanda on the seat in the room. "Make your proposal. I want Romanoff to tell me if it's true, because she's the only one with any real experience of these things, and well, Wanda's my partner and she should be up to speed."

Your former boss smiles impressed. "What a lovely thing, a thief and an Avenger, my eyes can hardly believe it."

You snort impatiently, but Valentina doesn't keep up the teasing. She nods, before turning her attention to the personal computer next to her phone. As she types, she repeats her earlier proposal. "I need to work on it first, dear. But I understand it will be something very similar to the agreements Miss Romanoff signed with Shield when she was hired as an Agent. Serving the American government entirely in exchange for freedom."

Natasha looks at you. "Is that what you want to do? Be an Agent?"

But you shake your head, offering her a sad smile. "There's no more Shield to recruit me. And I don't think I'm fit to be an Avenger anyway. But Val is director of the CIA. She could offer me something perfectly legal. And I could have an almost normal life."

"But what about the Sokovia agreements?" Wanda asks in concern. "You're an enhanced one."

Before you can answer, Val hums and grins. "Oh, I can see why you like that one, she's clever." You roll your eyes at the provocation, wishing you'd gone to see Val in person and could pull a gun on her to make her behave. Your boss stops typing and turns her full attention to the three of you. "Miss Maximoff has a very good point. If you wish to work with me at the moment, a CIA Agent contract, you would be legally obliged to sign the Sokovia Agreements."

You snort impatiently. "I'm not signing something that would force me to become a lab rat again! And certainly not something that says Wanda should be behind bars or-"

"Relax, I didn't say I was going to make you sign it." She cuts in. "And you're the one in a hurry for a new job after all. I don't understand the hesitation to do something that could be entirely bureaucratic if you stay out of the spotlight."

You hesitate, and exchange a quick glance with the two women next to you. Natasha shakes her head in the negative, but Wanda sighs.

"I'm pregnant."

Valentina chokes on her cigarette again, and Natasha covers her face with her hands. You don't know how to react, and Wanda keeps talking.

"Y/N is doing this for us, and if your partnership has meant anything other than work all these years, I know you'll help her."

But Valentina shakes her head, chuckling incredulously to herself. Wanda begins to worry.

"I don't want to appeal to sentimentality, I'm just asking you to be considerate. Job or not, no one is going to put my family at risk. I won't take it lightly if your people follow and threaten her again."

But Val gestures quickly. "A child, little bird? How can you keep this a secret from me?"

You sigh tiredly. "It wasn't exactly any of your business."

But Val leans over to pick something up from the table, and you frown as you recognize your old research file. "Except, well, it's entirely my business." Val retorts seriously, her eyes running over the pages she's leafing through. Until she lets out a small exclamation. "Yes, here it is. Strucker specifically wrote that you were infertile. And that was a disappointment of course, because everyone who gets an enhanced one, would love to make more of them."

Wanda looks at you with confusion, but you stand up as if you're going to choke on the attention, taking the cell phone with you to the other corner of the room.

"I know exactly what those pages say, you don't have to read them to me." You retort angrily. "Strucker had to believe that he couldn't have more of me, okay? I couldn't..." Your voice falters, but you control your emotions by swallowing hard. "I did what I had to do. The changes to my body so that he would never find out. So that no one would find out. But when I'm with Wanda, I just... I don't think about the past. I can breathe, Val. And it happened. And I'm asking you, if your mentoring has meant anything all these years, to give me a chance to be more than a goddamn puppet. Please."

Your boss remains silent, thoughtful, before sighing and offering you something like a sincere smile, however small.

"Ten years, little bird."

You frown in confusion. "What?"

"Ten years." She repeats. "That's the most I can offer you. Your money, a new identity, a fresh start. Think of it as extended maternity leave. The child will be old enough for boarding schools, and I'll charge you for the services."

"I-I..." You hesitate, looking at Wanda who has an expression that says she can't make this decision for you.

Valentina stands up, taking the phone with her. "I'll work on your contract carefully. Nick Fury is not a foolish man, little bird. He sees the world as I do, the dangers that surround us and that must come from the outside. I like the idea of a team working on my behalf, but it's too early for anything like that. Especially with everything that's happening with the first team." Val continues, and you swallow. She gives you a genuine smile. "And of course, all those years have meant something to me. You're the first person I'd trust with the job."

You want to tell her that this isn't the kind of meaning you'd like, but you think that work reliability is all Valentina can offer you. You nod and thank her and she says goodbye before hanging up.

Natasha thinks it best to leave you and Wanda alone for a moment, and when you sit down on the floor, Wanda sits down next to you. Silently, she holds your hand and rests her head on your shoulder.

"A lot can change in ten years." You murmur, and you don't need to explain for Wanda to understand your hope that you won't have to fulfill any contracts. She squeezes your hand tighter because the decision has already been made.

Your cell phone vibrates again, not with the CIA contract, but with your new documents and bank account filled with all the money you've earned as a mercenary. It makes your stomach turn with the feeling that you've just sold yourself again, and there's nothing you can do about it.

Wanda turns away to look at you and waits for you to do the same. Once your gazes are connected, she raises her hand to your face and pulls you in to kiss you softly on the lips.

"I'll always love you. Nothing will ever change that." She whispers against your lips, her forehead resting against yours. "I need you to promise that you'll always remember it."

You caress the wrist of the hand she holds to your cheek, and continue with your eyes closed. "I won't remember anything else."

She smiles, ending the distance again.

You kiss for a moment before you pull away to press your lips to her forehead and squeeze her hand.

"We'll be fine, Wanda. It's me and you, and just one baby. We can manage."

She smiles tenderly, nodding before hiding her face in the crook of your neck and sighing as she repeats the words. "You're right. Two of us, and a whole team of grumpy superheroes to handle one little baby. How hard can it be?"

Six hours later, Melina Vostokoff carried out Wanda's first ultrasound, which would reveal not one, but two little boys growing inside her womb. Both of them had a natural inclination towards superpowers.

But that's another story.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #heart shaped series #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagines

551 notes · View notes

yparkwrites · 6 months ago

Text

SON OF THE MOB SUNGHOON FF

Pairing: Mafia Sunghoon x Female reader (Y/N)

Content warnings: explicit content (smut), mentions of abuse, bruises, blood, etc.

Word count: 18k+

Synopsis: When Sunghoon, the son of Mr. Park meets a fearless girl everything will change around him as he tries to fight for his freedom from his father's nest.

Note: this is my first ever Enhypen ff, it is published on Wattpad as a complete story.

Part 1 - 4

NO MINORS ALLOWED 18+ ONLY

CHAPTER 1: The First Encounter

The clock was ticking inside the training room where Minjun’s son, Sunghoon, was being trained before his eyes. Minjun, a heartless mobster in a small village, was feared by everyone for his dangerous nature.

Sunghoon was already bruised, bloody, and drenched in sweat, yet his training continued. They were not finished punishing his already weakened body with the relentless punches and kicks from his father's assistant and Minjun himself.

Minjun laughed derisively at his son, muttering, "You’re fucking weak; you can’t even handle this."

Sunghoon's nightmare began when he was 12, following his mother's death. His father's behavior had changed drastically—he drowned himself in alcohol and drugs and started beating his son mercilessly.

This was Sunghoon's daily life.

After the grueling session, or perhaps torture, he returned to his room. He cleaned his wounds, took a bath, and got ready for his first day of classes.

Sunghoon was forced to take business classes. He didn't protest because nothing interested him anymore.

Upon entering the university, murmurs began. The son of Minjun was here. Everyone stared, not just because he was the son of the most dangerous man in the village, but because of his appearance—bruised face and split lip.

Despite his battered appearance, Sunghoon was an attractive guy, and many wanted to date him. However, he rejected every brave girl's confession, including that of the popular girl, Yura.

In the midst of the whispers, a new girl entered, unaware of everything. She looked around, confused as to why everyone was making way for this one guy. Who is he? Why is he so special? These questions lingered in her mind until the bell rang, breaking her thoughts.

As the bell rang, students rushed to their classes, not wanting to be late on the first day.

Y/n, the new girl, looked around, unfamiliar with the university. She needed to ask someone for directions. Should I ask that special guy? she wondered.

She was about to approach him when another guy tapped her shoulder. “Do you need anything?” she asked. He shook his head in response. “Then why did you tap my shoulder if you don’t need anything?” Y/n retorted, annoyed. When she looked back, the special guy was gone. “Great, now I’m late to class, thanks to you, mister,” Y/n said, exasperated.

Sunghoon walked to his class and took his seat in the last row, avoiding any interaction. He put his head down on his desk and chuckled at the scene he witnessed in the hallway.

“Will you stop following me?” Y/n asked the same guy who had tapped her shoulder earlier.

“I’m not following you; we’re in the same class, business class. And don’t even think about talking to that guy if you don’t want trouble, miss,” the guy responded.

“Can you not call me miss? I’m not that old,” she retorted.

“You called me mister, and I didn’t say anything,” he argued back, making Y/n stomp her feet as he chuckled.

“I’m Jake. Now stop stomping your foot like a madman, and I'll tell you who that guy is,” Jake said.

Y/n glared at Jake, annoyed.

They entered the class just in time, but the only available seat was in the last row, next to Sunghoon. The murmurs started again, making Y/n roll her eyes.

“Remember, don’t talk to him,” Jake whispered, loud enough for her to hear. Jake led Y/n to the last row.

“You saved a seat for us? Sweet,” Jake said, greeting Sunghoon. “I can’t talk to him, but you can?” Y/n retorted. “Let me at least sit beside Mr. Special Guy,” Y/n whispered loud enough for Jake and Sunghoon to hear. “No,” Jake said, earning an annoyed groan from Y/n. “It’s fine,” Sunghoon said quietly, surprising everyone and making Y/n smile.

The class started five minutes later, and everyone became busy.

“Why is everyone looking at you?” Y/n asked Sunghoon as they walked to the convenience store to buy lunch.

“They’re not staring at Sunghoon; they’re staring at you, the first girl he’s ever been seen with,” Jake said, pulling her away from Sunghoon.

“So that makes me special then,” Y/n said, moving back beside Sunghoon and grabbing his arm, making both Sunghoon and Jake widen their eyes.

“Yeah, you’re also the first girl his father will put in the torture room if you don’t let go of his arm right now,” Jake said, pulling her away again.

“What?” Y/n asked.

As they entered the convenience store, the murmurs started again. “Hey, Ma,” Y/n greeted her mom at the register. “I brought some friends,” she added. Her mother bowed as soon as she saw Sunghoon enter the store. “Why are you bowing? They’re my friends,” Y/n said, shocked at her mom’s behavior. “Don’t make eye contact,” her mom whispered loud enough for her to hear.

“Oh, come on,” Y/n said, clinging to Sunghoon's arm again, causing him to widen his eyes once more. Her mom was shocked too, grabbing her daughter and apologizing to Sunghoon. “Ma, he’s my friend,” Y/n insisted, earning a smack from her mom as Sunghoon chuckled. “It’s fine, it’s her first day,” Sunghoon said.

After lunch, Jake and Y/n didn’t have classes with Sunghoon. “What do you mean by torture room?” Y/n asked Jake, who was busy copying the lecture.

Jake looked at her and asked, “When did you arrive?”

Y/n looked confused. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“When did you arrive here? In this place, the city, village, or town—whatever you want to call it?” Jake repeated.

“A week ago,” Y/n responded. “Your mom didn’t tell you about the Parks?” Jake asked. Seeing her confused expression, he continued, “She just told me to be careful at night, and that’s it,” Y/n said.

“I’ll explain everything later, after class. I’ll take you home, because there’s no way no one saw you clinging to Sunghoon like that.”

“Does he have a girlfriend?” Y/n asked.

“No, it’s not that. It’s a long story,” Jake said. “I’ll tell you everything later.”

After their classes, Y/n didn’t see Sunghoon again until school was over. She saw him walking to his motorcycle, hoping he would see her, and he did. They made brief eye contact; she waved goodbye, and he nodded, mouthing "see you," which made her smile.

She kept waiting for Jake until she saw him exit the school. “What took you so long?” she asked.

“I was looking for Sunghoon, but I guess he left already. I was going to give him a ride,” Jake responded.

“Yeah, he just left. I saw him. I waved goodbye, and he mouthed ‘see you.’ He was riding a cool motorcycle,” Y/n told Jake.

“He must’ve gotten his motorcycle fixed. And he mouthed ‘see you’? He’s never done that. You’re really special,” Jake said, earning a giggle from Y/n before they got into his car.

“You have a nice car too,” Y/n complimented Jake.

“Thanks,” Jake responded, starting the car.

“So who is Sunghoon?” Y/n asked.

“Sunghoon is the son of the most notorious man in the village—actually, the whole country. I’m surprised you don’t know him. Mr. Park has an assistant, Tristan. He’s tall, but not as tall as Sunghoon. If Tristan tries to mess with you, Sunghoon will beat him up like a pulp,” Jake explained.

“Beat him up like a pulp? What does that even mean?” Y/n asked, chuckling.

“It means if someone tries to touch you, he’ll kill them. Like me—if I try hitting on you, he’ll end me, even though I’m his friend. What’s his is his, and whoever messes with what’s his is dead, just like his father. His father owns him. If Tristan can’t get to you, his father will. So don’t cling to him like that in public. He’s not even allowed to have emotions, yet here you are, making him go crazy,” Jake responded.

“So I��m his?” Y/n asked again.

“Yeah, and congratulations on winning the heart of the mobster’s son,” Jake said, making Y/n laugh.

“Well, we’re here. Take care,” Jake said.

“Thank you. I would appreciate it if you picked me up tomorrow morning,” Y/n joked.

“Yeah, wear jeans tomorrow,” Jake said before waving goodbye.

CHAPTER 2: Morning clashes and new bonds

The next morning, Y/n woke up earlier than usual, unable to fall back asleep after a particularly vivid nightmare.

"I should start buying sleeping pills again," she mumbled to herself as she headed into the bathroom for a bath. Y/n had been suffering from insomnia due to stress ever since she lost her father a few months ago. Since then, restful sleep had eluded her, replaced by relentless nightmares.

Meanwhile, in Jake’s household, his parents were engaged in yet another heated argument about his friendship with Sunghoon. Jake's father was supportive, but his mother viewed Sunghoon as a monster.

"You know it’s your fault they’re fighting," his sister Yura said, entering his room.

"Shut up. Mom will lose her mind if she finds out you go crazy over him. We're in the same boat here, only I can get close to him, and you can't," Jake retorted, smirking. Yura stomped her feet in frustration and left his room.

As Jake emerged from his room, his parents' argument grew louder.

"Did you forget that Sunghoon almost killed a student last year?" his mother shouted.

"Oh, come on, the guy was fine," his father argued back.

"He spent two months recovering from being beaten to a pulp by Sunghoon!" his mother yelled.

"I’m leaving!" Jake shouted, not wanting to hear more of their morning disputes.

When Y/n came downstairs for breakfast, the house was already empty. "Mom must’ve left early to open the store," she mumbled to herself, seeing lunch money on the table along with a note: *Sorry, had to leave early. Here’s lunch money. Please avoid Sunghoon if you don’t want trouble.*

Y/n sighed at the last sentence. "Sunghoon isn’t that bad of a person," she mumbled, grabbing a strawberry milk from the fridge as she lacked the appetite to eat.

After locking the door, Y/n turned around to see an unexpected visitor.

"Hey, Jake sent me," Sunghoon said with a broad grin.

Y/n smiled widely. "No wonder he told me to wear jeans."

"Yeah, he mentioned how much you liked my motorcycle," Sunghoon replied, grinning.

"That little snitch," Y/n said.

"You’re smaller than him," Sunghoon teased, earning a playful smack from Y/n as he handed her a helmet he had bought the previous day.

Y/n put on the helmet and hopped on the motorcycle. "Hold tight," Sunghoon said, starting the engine. Y/n yelped and held on tightly as they sped off.

When they arrived at school, students started whispering as Y/n hopped off the motorcycle. She received glares from several girls, especially Yura, the popular girl.

"They’ll never mind their own business, will they?" Y/n said loudly enough for everyone to hear. The students quickly looked away, avoiding Sunghoon’s gaze. Jake was right: whatever's his is his, and whoever tries to mess with what's his is dead, she thought.

At their lockers, Jake was already waiting, grinning. "You’re early," Sunghoon said, grabbing his books.

"Yeah," Jake replied.

"You know you don’t have to be friends with me if your parents keep fighting about it," Sunghoon said.

"It’s fine. Not your fault," Jake replied.

"We don’t have any classes together today," Y/n said, comparing her schedule with Sunghoon’s.

"Nope, I only have special classes today," Sunghoon replied.

"Good luck handling my sister. She woke up on the wrong side of the bed today," Jake said.

"Ugh, I don’t like her," Sunghoon muttered.

"Who is she?" Y/n asked.

"I’m his sister," came a voice from behind her.

"I’m Yura, the popular girl," Yura said, extending her hand for a handshake.

"I’m Y/n," Y/n replied, ignoring the hand.

"Did you not hear me?" Yura asked.

"I did," Y/n replied.

"And yet you ignore my hand for a handshake?" Yura pressed.

"Do you see any bats flying around the school?" Y/n asked.

"No," Yura replied, confused.

"That’s the amount of fucks I give about you offering a handshake," Y/n said, earning gasps from the students and Yura.

"Hey, that was savage. Tiny one, let’s get to class before we’re late," Jake said, dragging her and Sunghoon away.

"Damn, you’re the first person to ever talk to her like that. I should bring you to dinner with my family so you can tell my mom the same thing," Jake said, laughing.

"I’m not telling your mom that," Y/n said.

"Why not?" Sunghoon asked.

"Because she’s his mom and older than me," Y/n replied. "And my mom would kill me."

"Well, tonight at dinner, I’m going to tell our parents how you shut her down," Jake said, grinning.

At lunch, they decided to eat at the convenience store again. When they arrived, Y/n’s mom smacked her, earning a chuckle from Sunghoon and surprising everyone in the store.

No one had ever seen Sunghoon smile, not even a small one. He had been told to suppress his emotions ever since his father started his dirty business. Smiling, laughing, crying, or getting mad were all forbidden.

"See, I’m funny," Y/n told her mom as she saw Sunghoon chuckling.

"Please let me apologize for my daughter’s behavior. She’s always been stubborn," Y/n’s mom said.

"No, it’s fine," Sunghoon replied, giving her a small smile, shocking everyone again.

After lunch, they headed back to class. Y/n rolled her eyes as Yura entered the room. "We have the same class as her," Y/n said to Jake.

"Yeah, and you can just shut her down again," Jake said, grinning.

"We meet again," Yura said, sitting beside Y/n. Jake was loving it.

"What a coincidence. You're not stalking me, are you?" Y/n retorted.

"Why would I stalk you? Who are you?" Yura replied.

Y/n turned to Jake and said, "You didn’t tell me your sister has a bad memory," earning gasps from everyone again. Jake tried to control his laughter but failed when he saw his sister stomp away in annoyance.

"I hope you don’t mind me bad-mouthing your sister," Y/n said.

"Not at all. I’m enjoying it," Jake replied, grinning widely.

CHAPTER 3: HIS NIGHTMARE

Sunghoon's nightmare had always been his father discovering that he was hanging out with someone, especially girls. His father constantly warned him that having girlfriends would be a distraction, which is why Sunghoon never had one.

Sunghoon and Jake met during high school and had been hanging out behind his father's back ever since. Although his father didn't mind him spending time with Jake because he was a guy, what he would mind was Sunghoon not suppressing his emotions.

When Sunghoon arrived home from university, his father was already at the dinner table.

"You're later than usual," his father remarked, taking a sip of his wine.

Sunghoon sat down at the dinner table and replied, "Sorry, got caught up in traffic." He was served dinner as soon as he sat down.

His father gestured for the maids to leave the dining area. "You know I hate it when people lie to my face, son," his father said, looking directly at him.

Sunghoon sighed and continued eating, uninterested in conversing with his father.

His father smirked at his son's behavior. "Y/n," he said, making Sunghoon look up. "Yes, that's how we get your attention," his father said. "Stop hanging out with her, or next time, you'll find her dead body in your room. Finish your dinner and go to the training room," his father added before leaving for his office.

The next day, Sunghoon didn't go to class, making Y/n worried.

"Do you think Sunghoon's alright?" Y/n asked Jake as they sat in front of her mom's convenience store.

"No, his father found out about you, and he's doing everything he can to protect you from getting into trouble," Jake responded, eating the ramen he had bought.

"But he's not hurt, right?" Y/n asked anxiously.

"I have no idea. His father probably trained him all night, and he's just tired. Don't worry; he'll be here tomorrow," Jake said, trying to ease Y/n's mind.

After their lunch, Y/n couldn't stop worrying about Sunghoon and couldn't focus in class.

"I know you're worried, but if you keep zoning out, you'll miss the announcement about the ball next month," Jake said, breaking her thoughts.

"What?" Y/n asked, surprised.

"See, you missed it," Jake said, chuckling. "There's a ball next month."

"Oh, I've never been to one," Y/n responded with a small smile.

"Well, that sucks," Jake said, earning a playful smack from Y/n.

The next day, Sunghoon still didn't come to class, making Jake worried too, as he wasn't answering any phone calls or texts.

During lunch, Y/n, Jake, and surprisingly Yura sat together in the cafeteria.

"I haven't seen Sunghoon since yesterday," Yura said while eating her sandwich.

"Do you think we have?" Y/n retorted, rolling her eyes.

"Don't start a fight, you two. Let's talk about the ball. I'll try calling him again later," Jake said.

Yura smiled, putting down her sandwich. "So, you've never been to a ball?" Yura asked Y/n.

"Nope, too poor to afford that," Y/n responded.

"Your mom owns a convenience store," Yura stated.

"Yeah, and my dad was sick during the time there was a senior and junior prom, so I couldn't attend," Y/n explained.

"Was? So he's fine now?" Jake asked.

"No, I came here to live with my mom because he passed away a few months ago," Y/n said, looking down at her strawberry milk.

"Sorry," Jake apologized.

"It's fine, don't worry about it," Y/n said, smiling. Jake then earned a smack from Yura, making Y/n laugh.

"What the hell!?" Jake exclaimed, trying to smack his sister back, only to receive another smack from Y/n.

"You're not allowed to hit your sister," Y/n said firmly.

"Are you seriously taking her side?" Jake asked, wide-eyed.

"Yes, and we're here to talk about the ball," Y/n said before turning to Yura. "So, what do we wear for that occasion?"

"Brother, move aside. We have to discuss this," Yura said, pushing her brother away from Y/n and sitting beside her.

"Traitors," Jake muttered with wide eyes as he munched on his sandwich.

Two weeks passed, and Sunghoon still hadn't returned to the university.

Yura and Y/n had grown close, while Jake became the third wheel to their friendship.

"We haven't heard from Sunghoon in the last two weeks," Yura said as she sat down beside Y/n.

"No, and he hasn't answered any calls or read any of Jake's messages," Y/n replied.

"Don't worry, he's fine," Jake said, trying to reassure Y/n again.

"The ball is in two weeks, and since it's Friday and we got off early today, how about a little shopping? I'll ask your mom for permission," Yura said, grinning widely.

"Good luck getting my mom to agree to let me go shopping," Y/n said skeptically.

"I know you're worried about your loverboy, but trust me, he'll be there at the ball," Yura assured Y/n.

"I can't believe you made my mom say yes," Y/n said as they walked through the mall, looking for makeup.

"You know I'm good at it," Yura said confidently.

"Yura, you already have a lot of makeup," Jake said, trailing behind them like a bodyguard.

"Not for me, for Y/n. She needs to look pretty at the ball because that loverboy won't miss it," Yura said, grinning at Y/n before pulling her into Sephora.

"I don't know how to use this stuff," Y/n said, trying to break free from Yura's grip.

"I'll put it on you," Yura said, smiling.

Jake just laughed at the two of them, amazed at how well they got along. Just then, his phone started ringing.

"Sunghoon, where the hell are you?" Jake asked as soon as he answered the call.

"Sorry, got busy," Sunghoon replied with a raspy voice.

"Are you alright?" Jake asked.

"Yeah. When's the ball?" Sunghoon responded.

"You know about it? Damn, Yura was right. It's in two weeks," Jake answered.

"Okay, I'll be there," Sunghoon said.

"Do you want Y/n's number?" Jake offered.

"No, I better not have it. I'm hanging up now. Tell Y/n I miss her and not to worry about me," Sunghoon said before ending the call.

"Who were you talking to?" Yura asked, startling Jake.

"Jesus, you scared me," Jake said, holding his chest.

"So, who was it?" Y/n asked eagerly.

"Sunghoon. He said he misses you and you shouldn't worry. Come on, let's get something to eat; I'm starving," Jake said, pulling the two along, while Y/n kept asking about Sunghoon.

CHAPTER 4: THE BALL

“You don’t look excited for the ball,” Yura remarked, examining a selection of ball gowns on sale in the store.

Yura had decided to take Y/n out to buy their outfits for the ball, which was only a week away. However, Y/n’s mind had been preoccupied with thoughts of Sunghoon ever since the night he called Jake. They hadn't heard from him since.

“Earth to Y/n!” Yura exclaimed, waving a hand in front of Y/n’s face.

“What?” Y/n asked, snapping out of her reverie.

“How about this dress? Isn’t it gorgeous?” Yura asked, grinning as she held up a stunning red gown.

“It looks nice, but isn’t it too revealing?” Y/n responded, hesitating.

“Oh, come on! You’re grown up now, and Sunghoon will probably go crazy when he sees you in this,” Yura stated with excitement.

“I’m not really into red. I prefer brown, dark green, or maybe pastel colors,” Y/n said, glancing at the other dresses.

“Alright, I’ll take this one for myself. Let’s find something in brown or green for you. Not pastel, though—you don’t want to wear something like that to a ball,” Yura said, leading Y/n to the other side of the store.

“You know, ever since I met Jake and Sunghoon, my life has changed,” Y/n mused, looking at the dresses Yura had picked out for her.

“How so?” Yura asked.

“I didn’t have any friends to spend time with back at my old school. Everyone there was only focused on their grades. It was a very weird place,” Y/n said, admiring an emerald green dress Yura handed her.

“You like that one,” Yura said, grinning.

“Yeah, I’ll try this on,” Y/n responded, smiling.

“You know, Sunghoon was a happy kid until he lost his mom. After that, he started coming to school with bruises and wounds on his face,” Yura said as Y/n changed into the dress.

Y/n stepped out of the dressing room, leaving Yura in awe. “Girl, I didn’t know you had such nice curves. Damn, I’m jealous!” Yura exclaimed, making Y/n laugh.

“Thanks. Jake never mentioned it,” Y/n said before returning to the dressing room to change back.

“Well, Sunghoon doesn’t like it when Jake talks about it, so maybe that’s why,” Yura explained.

Yura and Y/n both paid for their dresses.

“Thank you for taking me dress shopping,” Y/n said as she stepped out of Yura’s car.

“No worries, and I’ll do your makeup. So, the night before the ball, I’ll sleep over at your place,” Yura said, grinning.

“Or I could stay at yours,” Y/n joked.

“I’d love that, but my parents don’t like visitors. Besides, your mom has been asking for a sleepover here,” Yura told her.

“She loves you more than she loves me,” Y/n said, laughing before waving goodbye to Yura.

The next day, rumors about Sunghoon’s absence spread throughout the school, coinciding with the buzz about the upcoming ball.

“Has Sunghoon texted you?” Yura asked her brother, who was looking at his phone.

“No, but he’s seen my texts,” Jake replied.

“I’m sorry,” Y/n suddenly said, catching the siblings’ attention.

“What are you sorry for?” Jake asked.

“Maybe it’s because of me that he’s been absent and hasn’t attended any classes,” Y/n said, looking down, trying not to cry.

“It’s not your fault, and who told you it’s you?” Yura responded, looking at her.

“Everyone’s talking about it. They’re saying that ever since I started hanging out with Sunghoon, he’s been in trouble with his father. Maybe they’re right,” Y/n said, finally letting her tears fall.

Jake hugged her, trying to comfort her. “Stop crying. Sunghoon is fine,” Jake said.

“He’s not okay. He’s been absent for three weeks now,” Y/n said, her voice rising slightly as she stood up and walked away.

“What should we do about her?” Yura asked.

“I don’t know, but I know Sunghoon will be mad once he finds out,” Jake responded.

Time dragged on inside the training room, where Sunghoon’s father had been putting him through grueling training sessions for three weeks straight.

Sunghoon spat blood after receiving a harsh kick to his stomach.

“You don’t talk back to me, Sunghoon,” Mr. Park said, kicking him again in the stomach, making him wince in pain.

Sunghoon tried to stand but couldn’t, due to the relentless kicks from his father.

“Man up, Sunghoon!” his father yelled, delivering another kick.

“Park, I think that’s enough. You’re going to kill him,” Tristan said, entering the training room.

“Fine,” Mr. Park said, giving one last kick before leaving the room with Tristan.

Sunghoon struggled to stand up. “They might as well just kill me,” he mumbled, spitting more blood on the floor before finally managing to stand.

He collapsed onto his bed, grabbing his phone and seeing another text from Jake: “They’re talking about your absence now and blaming it on Y/n.” Reading the message, his blood started to boil. “It’s not her fault,” he muttered before passing out from exhaustion.

The day of the ball arrived. Yura had been applying makeup to Y/n’s face for the past 30 minutes.

“Does it really take this long to put on makeup?” Y/n asked, chuckling.

“Yeah,” Yura replied with a chuckle of her own.

“When will you finish?” Y/n asked, still smiling.

“Soon,” Yura said.

After Yura finished Y/n’s makeup, she started fixing her hair.

“Do you think Sunghoon will really come?” Y/n asked.

“Of course. He’s not going to miss seeing you,” Yura said, grinning.

“What if he doesn’t come?” Y/n asked.

“He will. Trust me,” Yura reassured her.

“Kids, Jake is here!” Y/n’s mom yelled, making the two girls laugh.

Yura and Y/n carefully descended the stairs, trying not to trip, as Jake looked at them, mesmerized.

“Damn, who are you?” Jake said, making Y/n’s mom laugh.

“Shut up,” Y/n responded, rolling her eyes.

“Come on, let’s go. We’ll be late,” Yura said excitedly.

“Jake, take care of my daughter,” Y/n’s mom said, waving them off.

Y/n, Jake, and Yura arrived at the ball. Everyone was dressed beautifully, and Yura had been right—no one was wearing pastel colors.

Y/n scanned the crowd, searching for a specific person, but he wasn’t there. She looked down, trying not to cry. He’s okay, right?

“I really thought he’d show up,” Yura whispered to Y/n.

“It’s fine,” Y/n said, trying to sound convincing.

As the night wore on, there was still no sign of Sunghoon. Y/n began to lose hope of seeing him.

“I’m going to get some fresh air,” Y/n said, leaving the venue.

Outside, Y/n stared at the stars, finding some solace in their beauty.

“It’s cold,” someone said from behind her, placing a coat over her shoulders.

She turned around and finally saw the person she had been longing to see.

“Sunghoon,” Y/n whispered.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Sunghoon said, looking into her eyes.

“You’re just on time,” Y/n said before hugging him tightly.

Sunghoon hugged her back, holding her close. “I’m so thankful I met you. We’ve spent so little time together, but I’m grateful for every moment,” Sunghoon said before breaking the hug. He took off his necklace and placed it around Y/n’s neck.

Sunghoon pressed his forehead against hers, holding her cheeks with his shaky hands, and kissed her. Their lips moved in sync as Sunghoon pulled her closer, tears streaming down his cheeks.

He pulled away from the kiss. “I’m sorry. Please keep my necklace for now,” he said, stepping back.

He turned to leave, but Y/n grabbed him in a back hug. “Where are you going?” Y/n asked, her voice trembling.

“Away, to protect you,” Sunghoon said, attempting to remove her arms from his waist, but she held on tighter.

“Please don’t go,” Y/n cried.

“I’m sorry,” Sunghoon said, gently but firmly removing her arms and walking away as Y/n continued to beg him to stay.

Jake approached Y/n as she collapsed to the ground, sobbing. He hugged her, having witnessed the entire scene. He knew Sunghoon was leaving but hadn’t expected him to show up for Y/n.

“What happened?” Yura asked, running over upon seeing the scene.

“And that’s the last time I saw him,” Y/n said, looking at Jungwon, Jay, Yura, and Jake.

“Do you miss him?” Jay asked.

“Every day,” Y/n replied just as the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch.

#enhypen #books #amreading #wattpad #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen jake #sunghoonff #sunghoon #jungwon #lee heeseung #enhypen smut #jay enhypen #park sunghoon #jakeff #sim jaeyun #enhypen jaeyun

242 notes · View notes

duachai · 4 days ago

Text

HANA, DUL, SET : 101 - PARK SUNGHOON

Just hit a 5th of the bottle and I'm in for it, I'm in for it

♱ PAIRING : PARK SUNGHOON X MALE READER

♱ SYNOPSIS : After a match and some banter, a party becomes the setting for a darker plot against M/n, fueled by jealousy from his own team. Sunghoon, Enha's captain, initially reluctant, steps in to protect M/n from a dangerous situation, leading to an unexpected moment of connection between the two amidst the rivalry.

♱ CONTENT WARNING : This writing contains explicit sexual content and mature themes.

♱ AUTHOR'S NOTE : Hey my lovelies!!! First of all, Happy New Year!!!!! Thank you guys so much for supporting me last year and I promise you we're about to go in this year! As for changes in this chapter from the old vers, I added more scenes and more clarity. And yes, Heejake is an official secondary couple in the story because why not lol they won't drown out Sunghoon and M/n so don't worry because I've gotten some dms about that lol. Ofc gimme your feedback & questions, let me know how you're feeling and I will see you guys next Wednesday!!!! P.S I'm using Lim Sungjin as a face claim for M/n just because I personally need to put a face to the character.

LINKS : Wattpad | Kofi | Book Link | Masterlist

The bus stop was a battleground for the Enha and Fifty-forty volleyball teams, though it seemed the conflict was more about claiming over the street than any real animosity. The two schools, only a short distance apart, could have easily shared the cramped space and the same bus, but instead, they faced off across the street, each side glaring at the other.

On one side stood the Enha students in their black and red uniforms; on the other, the Fifty-forty students in their bright yellow and white. In the middle of this colorful divide, two students sat close together on the sidewalk, a contrast to the tension around them. Kim Sunoo, in his Enha black, leaned his head on Shin M/n's shoulder, who wore the Fifty-forty yellow.

They were the bestfriends despite their schools' rivalry, and of course, everyone hated that. Always going out, studying together, and even leaving matches together after the Fifty-forty team absolutely decimates the Enhas. Sunoo didn't seem to care though. He claims to just be playing for fun but everyone knows he only joined so he could see M/n sweaty up close.

Sunoo was the Enha team's middle blocker, and had a knack for making the least glamorous position look effortless. His sister, however, was not a fan of his mingling with the Fifty-forty crowd, especially after the last night's game.

"Yah, Kim Sunoo!" His sister's voice cut through the tension. Sunoo lifted his head with a start, and M/n's eyes flashed with a brief, he swore he saw a flash of disgust in her coffee-brown eyes.

Turning to M/n with an apologetic pout, Sunoo said, "Sorry, she's got this thing about us hanging around Fifty-forty after... well, last night."

M/n chuckled, placing a comforting hand on Sunoo's thigh. "Don't worry about it. I'll see you tonight at the party."

With a reassuring smile, Sunoo headed towards his sister, who quickly grabbed his arm and pulled him away. M/n dusted off his slacks, exchanging a grin with Wonbin, who had approached.

"I don't get why you hang out with him. Are you pinning him or something?" Wonbin asked, curiosity piqued.

M/n shook his head, a playful smile on his lips. "Oh no, Wonbin. My pin is already stuck deep into someone else." He nodded toward Park Sunghoon, who stood across the street, glaring back with a brooding expression

🏐

The bus ride to the schools was chaotic. Some students had to push up together in the seats and there was endless bickering. One of these days a full blown out brawl is going to happen.

After school, Sunghoon, perched atop a cafeteria table, stared at his phone, figuring out the best way he could tell his teammate they were in a crisis.

caphoon. We need to have a serious convo. Meeting in 5 mins

noonoo. de there soon!!!

heeso. Gimme 10, gotta do something first

caphoon. This is important

heeso. I get that but I can't be there right this moment, Sung

caphoon. Wth is more important?

j. def just saw him and Jake walk in the bathroom together lol

nik. yucky

Sunghoon groaned aloud. Things were a mess with their team. Morale was at an all-time low, and some members were starting to lose interest in volleyball altogether. Some had found distractions in each other, and others just didn't care anymore. Senior year was supposed to be their year to shine, but volleyball wasn't even the focus now. The cracks were starting to show, and it was making Sunghoon anxious.

"Captain~"

Sunghoon whipped his head around to see Jungwon and Sunoo heading into the empty cafeteria, throwing their bags onto a nearby table. Jungwon, always perceptive, immediately noticed the tension in Sunghoon's posture and placed a hand on his shoulder, the gesture both comforting and grounding.

"You alright, Hoon?" Jungwon asked, his voice soft but filled with concern.

Sunghoon took a deep breath and leaned his back onto the table. "I don't know. This team... it's falling apart. I just... I don't know how to fix it." He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, feeling the weight of responsibility pressing down on him.

Sunoo, now kneeled on top of the table with his hands in his lap next to Sunghoon, head hanging over his own, his usual playful demeanor replaced by something more serious. "Whatever it is don't stress, we got it."

Sunghoon was lost in thought when the sound of approaching footsteps caught his attention. He looked up just as Jay and Niki strolled into the cafeteria, their usual carefree attitudes contrasting with the serious atmosphere. Jay, with his ever-present smirk, tossed a glance toward Sunghoon and gave a quick nod before flopping down onto an empty seat. Niki, a little more worried, followed, but his eyes quickly flickered over to the group, sensing the tension.

"What's going on?" Niki asked, his voice dripping with concern.

Jay tilted his head, eyeing Sunghoon's furrowed brows and the way his fingers drummed on the table. "This isn't gonna be good." He said quietly, his voice uncharacteristically serious.

Sunghoon sighed, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the conversation he'd been avoiding. "People are dropping out, losing focus, doing... other things. We can't even get everyone to show up on time now." He leaned back and looked at his friends, his eyes tired. "We've got a lot to fix, but I'm not sure where to start."

Jay threw his legs up onto the chair, relaxing as he leaned back with an exaggerated sigh. "Sounds like typical senior year shit. People get distracted, forget what matters." He shrugged his shoulders. "We can't let the whole team go down in the shits though. We have a reputation to uphold and a serious ass whooping."

Niki didn't seem to find Jay's usual nonchalance comforting. He narrowed his eyes at Sunghoon. "We will listen if you tell us what we can do."

Sunghoon was about to ease into the momentary relief when the seriousness of the situation hit him once again. He cleared his throat, gathering the attention of the group. "That's not all," he started, his tone more solemn. "We're at risk of being kicked out of the league if we don't find an 8th member soon."

The room went silent at his words. Jungwon's hand paused on Sunghoon's shoulder, and even Jay stopped smirking, the weight of Sunghoon's words settling on the table.

"We need a full roster to keep competing. If we can't get someone on the team before the next match, they'll pull us from the league," Sunghoon explained, his voice low but serious. "That's the reality. If we don't act fast, all of this... all the effort we've put into this year, gone."

The group exchanged glances, a sense of urgency creeping into the air. Niki broke the silence, his usual joking demeanor replaced with determination. "So we find someone. Fast."

Jay leaned forward, his brow furrowing in thought. "We've got options. Maybe we can recruit someone from outside the team?"

Before Sunghoon could respond, the door to the cafeteria swung open, and in walked Jake and Heesung, their appearances anything but typical. Their uniforms were disheveled, hair a mess, and both of them were trying, rather unsuccessfully, to act casual as they walked toward the table.

Hickeys, Heesung's lip gloss all over Jake's face, Jake's fly unzipped. It wasn't hard to tell where they'd just been.

Sunghoon shot them an exasperated look, one eyebrow raised as Heesung tried to smooth his shirt, but the wrinkles from their activities was way too obvious. Jake was the first to speak, though his tone was unusually high-pitched for someone trying to play it cool. "What's going all. Why does everyone look pissed?"

Niki, trying to suppress his grin, shot them a look. "Oh, you know, just a conversation about how you two might be the reason our team is going to shit."

Jake chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. "We were just... uh... tutoring."

Sunghoon exhaled through his nose, holding his head in his hands. "I can't believe you two right now." His frustration was evident, but his gaze softened as he met their eyes. "Do you know how close we are to getting kicked out of the league?"

Heesung, looking a little guilty, spoke up, his voice apologetic. "We know, Hoon. We were just... needed a moment to—"

"To fuck?" Sunghoon interrupted, his voice rising just slightly. "I'm trying to figure out how we're gonna make it to nationals and to can't keep your hands to yourself. And a bathroom? Seriously? Have some fucking decorum. Lee Heesung. Whore looks really bad on you."

Jay leaned back in his chair, his grin finally showing as he sung, "Someone needs to get laid..."

Niki lightly shoved Jay and spoke up. "We're on the verge of losing the team if we can't find someone to fill that 8th spot. Hyung, we really can't afford any distractions."

Heesung and Jake exchanged a quick look, the weight of the situation finally setting in. Heesung sighed, his usual cheeky grin faltering. "You're right. We can do better. We'll do better."

Jake straightened up, "We get it now... and we'll do what it takes to help fix this."

Sunghoon gave a sharp nod, his frustration still simmering beneath the surface, but the understanding in his teammates' eyes was enough to cool his temper. "Alright, we need to focus. We're a team, and we're gonna get through this. We find that 8th player, or we find a way to make it work with who we've got. No more distractions."

The group nodded in unison, the weight of their captain's words sinking in. For the first time that afternoon, Sunghoon felt like maybe, just maybe, they were ready to face whatever came next.

New notification from Instagram

New post from fffshinsgirl

♡ 37.9k 💬 349 ➤ 20

ffshinsgirl wtfff just got news m/n got kicked out of fifty-forty for mistreatment of the other teammates!! wtf kinda bullshit is this omg. if this is true, i'll tear my eyes out, i can't look at him the same!!! @munchsshin you bitch!!!!! the mixer is still on tonight, can't go, but if you see that bitch JUMP HIM!!!!!!!! View all comments

1009shinie your a troll this isn't real bye

Luve5040 FIFITY-FORTY IS 8 STOP PLAYING

Enhadreamin Enhypen could never. I've been saying M/n is a cheater. He targets Sunghoon every game. He's a loser, guys, BLOCK HIS ASS.

🏐

Sunghoon shuffled his foot over a rock, his cherry-colored lips pressed into a pout. He'd been standing outside the event house for a few minutes now, mentally bracing himself.

Parties weren't his scene, especially not a Fifty-Forty party. He'd heard about these events: the PTA's presence for the first hour, then their departure to lounge on graham crackers and pizza. Twenty minutes later, the real party began. That's when the booze flowed, drugs made their rounds, and girls were whisked away upstairs by guys who wanted to hump on the gross, deteriorating couches.

Sunghoon wanted nothing to do with any of that, but he'd promised his team he'd do whatever it took to keep them together. So, he swallowed his discomfort and decided to brave it for the Enha team tonight. He kicked his "purity rock" aside and approached the event house doors, where a few people lounged on the banister.

Taking a deep breath-one, two, three-he walked inside. The moment he entered, his senses were overwhelmed. The air was thick with the stench of cologne and the sound of pop music marred by bleeped-out curse words. With every step, someone shouted his name or patted him on the back.

Stay cool, stay cool, he chanted in his head, forcing himself to relax as he responded with nods and brief greetings

Navigating through the crowd, he made his way to the main ballroom, scanning for someone who wouldn't demand more than a quick hello. Then he saw his teammate Jake and Heesung, the team's outside hitter and setter, respectively. They were also the only openly gay couple in the sports department, and they usually didn't shy away from flaunting it.

But tonight they were separated. They seemed talking about something intense because Heesung's hands flung around as he looked like he was trying to explain something to Jake he didn't really understand.

"Can I talk to you for a moment? Alone?" Heesung's tone was off, but he was quick to see Sunghoon and immediately request to be alone, suggesting something was bothering him. Sunghoon nodded, leading him to a quieter corner as he left Jake to drink a lone. As they walked away, he could feel the weight of the Fifty-Forty students' stares on them.

In the secluded corner, Heesung's usual carefree demeanor had vanished, replaced by a deep, concerned frown. His eyes were grave, and the tension in the air was palpable.

"Okay, what's going on?" Sunghoon asked, his voice barely above a whisper as he leaned in closer.

"There's something seriously wrong with Shin M/n," Heesung said, his tone heavy with urgency.

Sunghoon's head snapped up. "What do you mean?"

"There's a rumor," Heesung explained. "Coach Sian is M/n's father."

"Coach Sian?" Sunghoon asked in disbelief, struggling to process the information.

Heesung nodded. "Yeah. And right now, M/n is puking in the upstairs bathroom but everyone is too chicken shit to help!"

Sunghoon's shock was evident. "I don't understand. It's known M/n doesn't drink, that health detox bullshit. Why... why is he puking and why does the team sound guilty?"

Heesung's expression grew more somber. "They said it was reported Coach Sian spent a lot of money on Fifty-Forty freshman year. Nepo baby crap, I don't know but can you check on him? Jake is too squeamish and those shots are getting to my head."

"Fine."

Now, Sunghoon stood outside the bathroom door, trying to steady his breathing. He pushed it open slowly, the harsh fluorescent light casting a pale glow on the figure slumped near the toilet.

M/n was on his knees, his face pale, sweat clinging to the strands of hair on his forehead as he hunched over, gagging into the porcelain bowl. His ragged breaths filled the room, and Sunghoon could tell this wasn't just from too much alcohol, it was the kind of breakdown that came from something much deeper.

Sunghoon hesitated for a moment, glancing back at the hallway. He didn't like to give someone like M/n the day of light, but he didn't deserve whatever was going on.

"M/n?" Sunghoon finally spoke, crouching down beside him. "Hey, it's Sunghoon. You need some water or something?"

M/n groaned but didn't lift his head. "Don't... don't need help. Go away."

"Yeah, no," Sunghoon replied, his voice firm but calm. He reached for a towel hanging by the sink and ran it under cold water before gently pressing it against M/n's neck. "I'm not leaving you like this."

For a moment, M/n didn't respond, but eventually, his tense shoulders relaxed slightly under Sunghoon's steady presence.

"Why are you even here?" M/n croaked, his voice hoarse.

"Because Heesung and Jake found you like this and thought I'd know what to do," Sunghoon admitted with a small shrug. "And maybe because I'm the captain, and I'm supposed to care about people, even when they're from the other team."

M/n let out a bitter laugh, though it quickly dissolved into a cough. "Captain Sunghoon, the perfect golden boy. You must think I'm pathetic."

Sunghoon frowned, leaning back against the bathroom wall. "I don't think that at all," he said softly. "But I do think you need someone in your corner right now."

M/n finally lifted his head, his tired eyes meeting Sunghoon's in a gaze confused with comfort and terror. Before either of them could say more, the door burst open.

Wonbin stood there, his expression dark as his gaze flicked between M/n and Sunghoon. "What the hell are you doing in here?" he demanded, stepping into the small space.

"Trying to help him," Sunghoon replied, standing up to face him.

Wonbin ignored him, grabbing M/n's arm and yanking him to his feet. "You're coming with me. The team needs to talk to you."

M/n winced but didn't resist, his exhausted body too weak to fight back.

"Wait," Sunghoon said, stepping forward. "He's not in any shape to—"

"This isn't your business," Wonbin snapped, cutting him off. "Stay out of it."

Sunghoon clenched his fists but didn't argue as Wonbin dragged M/n out of the bathroom. He could hear M/n muttering protests, but they quickly faded into the noise of the party.

Gritting his teeth, Sunghoon stormed out of the bathroom and made a beeline for his teammates. Jungwon, Heesung, Jake, and Niki were gathered in a corner, watching him approach with concern.

"What happened?" Heesung asked, his brows furrowing.

"Wonbin took M/n," Sunghoon said, his voice tight with frustration. "Something's going on with their team, and it's bad. We need to do something."

Jungwon's eyes narrowed. "Do you think they'll hurt him?"

Sunghoon ran a hand through his hair, trying to think. "I don't know, but I'm not risking it. We're going to find him and make sure he's okay."

"This isn't right, we can't sit here and watch. Let's try... plan XO."

Heesung's eyes widened slightly. "Plan XO? Are you sure?"

Sunghoon's resolve hardened. "I may not like him, but I can't sit and watch him be roofied like this."

Sunghoon, Jay, and Heesung reached the bedroom door and exchanged a glance. The muffled sounds of yelling and the occasional thud sent a rush of adrenaline through Sunghoon. He placed a hand on the doorknob, nodding to his teammates.

"Go?" Jay whispered, his lips curling into a small smirk.

Sunghoon nodded. "Go."

With that, Sunghoon shoved the door open. The scene inside was worse than he'd expected. M/n was on his hands and knees, his face flushed and bruised, struggling to shield himself as one of the Fifty-Forty players hurled insults and threats, his fist raised. Anton, the captain of the Fifty-Forty team stood nearby, arms crossed, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

"Stop!" Sunghoon's voice boomed, freezing everyone in the room. All eyes turned toward him.

"Stay out of this, Sunghoon," Anton sneered. "This doesn't concern you."

"It does now," Sunghoon snapped, stepping further inside with Jay and Heesung flanking him. "You've crossed the line."

Wonbin took a step forward, his stance aggressive. "He's one of us. You don't get it, you-"

"He's a person," Sunghoon interrupted, his voice sharp. "And you don't get to treat him like this."

"You're outnumbered," one of the Fifty-Forty players said with a laugh.

' The room was thick with tension as Sunghoon stepped in, Jay and Heesung close behind him. M/n was crumpled against the far wall, his lip split and his breath ragged. Wonbin stood over him, his fists clenched, while three other Fifty-Forty teammates blocked the exit now.

"I told you to back off, Sunghoon," Anton growled. "This doesn't concern you."

Sunghoon's jaw tightened, his eyes darting to M/n. He was barely holding himself up, his gaze glassy. "It concerns me now," Sunghoon said firmly. "Get away from him."

Wonbin sneered and gestured to his teammates. "Take care of them."

The first guy lunged at Sunghoon, but Sunghoon was ready. He shifted his weight to his back foot and pivoted, delivering a front kick to the attacker's chest, sending him stumbling backward into a dresser.

The second guy charged in, throwing a sloppy punch. Sunghoon ducked, his movements fluid, and countered with a spinning hook kick that connected with the side of the guy's head. He crumpled to the floor, groaning.

Jay and Heesung handled the third teammate, keeping him occupied with a mix of grapples and strikes, while Sunghoon turned his attention to Anton.

Anton smirked, cracking his knuckles. "You think you're tough, huh?"

Sunghoon didn't respond. He simply raised his hands.

Anton swung a heavy punch, but Sunghoon sidestepped effortlessly, grabbing Anton's wrist and twisting it. With a swift motion, Sunghoon delivered a side kick to Anton's ribs, making him stagger back.

Enraged, Anton charged again, aiming a wild haymaker. Sunghoon ducked under it, spun, and unleashed a powerful spinning back kick to Anton's stomach. The impact sent him sprawling onto the floor, gasping for air.

Sunghoon stood over him, his breathing steady. "You're done," he said coldly.

He turned to Jay and Heesung, who had subdued the third teammate. "Help me get M/n out of here."

"Let's go," Sunghoon said, guiding him out of the room.

He guided M/n through the crowd, carefully avoiding the gaze of the Fifty-Forty students now fully engaged in the distraction Jake and Sunoo had orchestrated. They weaved through the crowd, and Sunghoon's heart pounded with both fear and determination.

Finally, they reached the back door, which led to a dimly lit alley behind the event house. Sunghoon pushed it open and ushered M/n outside. The cool night air was a sharp contrast to the stifling heat of the party inside.

M/n leaned against the wall, swaying slightly. "I don't understand. Why are we outside?"

Sunghoon looked around to ensure they weren't being followed. Satisfied, he turned back to M/n. "You were in danger. I don't know the full details, but it's clear your teammates were planning something tonight."

M/n's eyes softened with gratitude. "Thank you for getting me out. I knew...something was wrong."

Sunghoon took a deep breath, his own anxiety slowly ebbing away. "It's not safe to stay here. We should get you somewhere secure."

M/n nodded, but there was a lingering sadness in his eyes. "I don't know what to say. This is all so overwhelming."

Sunghoon's gaze softened as he stepped closer. He reached out, gently placing his hands on M/n's shoulders. "You don't have to say anything. Just know that you're safe."

For a moment, their eyes locked, and Sunghoon saw a flicker of something in M/n's gaze, a mixture of relief and vulnerability. Without thinking, he leaned in slightly, their faces mere inches apart.

M/n's breath hitched, and Sunghoon could feel the warmth radiating between them. His gaze flickered to M/n's lips, then back to his eyes.

But he stopped himself.

Clearing his throat, Sunghoon stepped back, his cheeks flushing. "Let's... let's get going."

M/n blinked, looking momentarily dazed before nodding. "Yeah. Okay."

🏐

The faint glow of the desk lamp cast long shadows across Sunghoon's room. He sat slouched at his desk, his elbows resting on the polished wood, his head cradled in his hands. His phone lay in front of him, M/n's name and number glowing softly on the screen. His thumb hovered over the call button, trembling with hesitation.

His mind was a whirlwind of emotions, replaying the events of the night.

The alley outside the party had been quiet except for the distant hum of traffic. M/n had leaned against the wall, his face pale, his lips slightly parted as he caught his breath. They had been so close. Too close.

Sunghoon had felt the tension crackle between them, his gaze locked onto M/n's. The moment stretched, heavy with unspoken words and emotions. He'd leaned in slightly, just enough to feel M/n's breath against his skin.

For a heartbeat, it seemed like their lips might meet. But Sunghoon had pulled back at the last second, his heart pounding so loudly he thought M/n could hear it.

The memory made his chest ache and his fingers curl into fists. What was wrong with him? Why would he do something like that?

A soft knock on the door jolted him out of his thoughts. Before he could answer, the door creaked open, and his dad stepped inside.

"Still awake?" his dad asked, his voice warm but tinged with concern. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.

Sunghoon straightened in his chair, quickly locking his phone. "Yeah. Just... thinking."

His dad chuckled, stepping further into the room. "About the game? Or something else?"

Sunghoon hesitated, unsure how much he wanted to share. "A little bit of both."

His dad took a seat on the edge of the bed, studying him carefully. "You know, Sunghoon, I've noticed you've been a little... preoccupied lately. You can't find that 8th person can you?"

Sunghoon hesitated again, then sighed. "There's this guy. He might be a good fit, but he's got... a temper and such an awful way of life. He's damn good though, dad."

His dad nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. "Sounds like he's a fit."

"I don't know about that," Sunghoon muttered. "I just... I feel like I need to do more. I can't settle for him, but he's so perfect."

His dad's lips curved into a small smile as Sunghoon gushed over M/n. "Bring him to my office Monday then."

Sunghoon blinked, taken aback by the suggestion. "You think I should invite him to join the team? After everything that's happened?"

His dad shrugged. "Why not? If he's as strong as you say he is, and if he means something to you, it might be the best thing for both of you. Just think about it." With that, his dad stood, patting Sunghoon's shoulder before heading toward the door. "You're a good kid, Sunghoon. Trust your instincts."

The door clicked shut, leaving Sunghoon alone with his thoughts once more. He stared at his phone, M/n's name still glowing on the screen.

caphoon Will you join my team?

#kpop x male reader #kpopidol #kpop fanfic #kpop x reader #kpop bg #kpop #enhypen x male reader #sunghoon #sunghoon x male reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen #enha #enha x reader #enha imagines #enha fluff #heejake

80 notes · View notes

lostfracturess · 1 year ago

Text

symptoms and causes | ch. 01

ღ pairing professor gojo x med student reader

ღ summary he's arrogant, self-centered, and he's your professor. renowned for his brilliance in neurosurgery and infamous for his allure. too bad you have to work with him on this research team. now you're stuck with dr. satoru gojo, delving into the complexities of both the brain and the heart—and of how far you'd go for a love that could destroy not only him but you as well.

ღ wc 13.1 k

ღ warnings [18+] this story contains substance abuse/addiction, (rough) smut, mature themes, self-destructive behavior, (heavy) angst, mentions of death / illness / blood / abuse, graphic medical procedures. reader discretion is advised.

ღ author's note so exited to start this series!! dive in and let me know what you think—i love hearing your thoughts! & pls like or repost if you enjoyed, it means the world !! ♡ (fanart in the header)

series masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad

next chapter ->

"Who's that?"

Every gaze in the room turned towards you.

"She's my student—," Dr. Geto responded, a trace of amusement twisting his lip. He didn't have to follow Dr. Gojo's stare to know its target. "—a first-year medical student."

A murmur rippled through the group of students, their eyes stinging like needles in your neck. You were acutely aware of your position—the youngest, the least experienced, an outsider among those who had studied for years.

"What?" Gojo's voice sliced through the air. He turned his scrutinizing gaze towards Geto. "You brought a fucking first-year into my operating room?"

Ouch.

Geto chuckled. "Relax, Satoru. She's good."

Gojo's expression tightened. He turned back to you, those unnervingly bright blue eyes raking over you from behind his surgical glasses. It made your skin crawl. "You, first-year. Bypass, endovascular, or direct microsurgical approach?"

The air in the operating room was thick.

Dr. Geto and Dr. Gojo had been circling the issue for at least half an hour, dissecting strategies as if the patient weren't laid skull open before them, the aneurysm a ticking time bomb in the patient's brain.

None of the students dared to move, too terrified to even breathe. It was a test. But hesitation wasn't in your vocabulary.

"You should do a hybrid approach. Start with endovascular coiling to reduce the risk of rupture. Parallel prep for a bypass, using intraoperative Doppler for flow assessment. Stabilize, then microsurgical clipping. Definitive closure."

Silence filled the room. Somehow the eyes of the other students stinging even more now. Your boldness given such a complex situation was either brilliance or audacity—perhaps both.

Geto's laughter broke the tension. "I might've forgotten to mention—she's my best student."

Gojo's gaze lingered on you, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. "That's some complex shit you suggest. The endovascular coiling has to be precise to reduce the risk of aneurysm rupture, and then we switch to microsurgery in an already compromised field."

"Complex, yes, but you have no other choice. The endovascular phase provides stabilization, making the surgical field less treacherous for clipping," you countered.

"And the risk of thrombosis?" Gojo pressed.

"Could happen."

"Could happen?" Gojo repeated. "That's your statement on that?"

"It's either the hybrid approach, or the patient is dead anyway," you said, maintaining his unyielding gaze.

"Is this woman serious?" Gojo murmured, almost inaudibly. His gaze shifted to Geto, seeking perhaps a silent judgment or agreement. Geto, following the exchange with an unreadable smile, seemed more amused than concerned.

"So?" Geto prompted.

Gojo's gaze snapped back to you, his eyes raking over you as if searching for a flaw in your logic. His silence stretched taut between you, a wordless evaluation. Finally, the verdict, "Let's proceed with the hybrid approach."

You exhaled sharply, only then realizing you'd been holding your breath.

A flurry of activity erupted as the nurses prepared for the surgery you'd proposed. You watched closely as the surgeons moved with practiced precision around the patient's exposed brain tissue—both undoubtedly the best neurosurgeons in the country.

"Your name," Dr. Gojo demanded, his focus still on the task at hand. "What is it?"

You gave your name in response.

He repeated your name, as if testing how the name felt. "Do you always approach problems with such boldness?"

"If the situation demands it."

Something in his masked face shifted, a subtle expression that might have been a smile. Whatever it was, it seemed out of place.

"Interesting."

─── ·✧· ───

The corridors of Tokyo Medical University were bustling with life, echoing the footsteps and chatter of students. Lost in a sea of unfamiliar faces, you stood somewhat disoriented in front of the map of the University. Finding your way to your anatomy class felt like an impossible task, especially with less than four minutes on the clock.

It was your first day.

And already the middle of the semester.

Definitely not a good start to come late.

The university you used to attend was half this size, and somehow you already missed it. But who would turn down the opportunity to study at the country's most prestigious medical university? Especially with the chance to learn from the most renowned neurosurgeons teaching there?

So here you were.

Two minutes left.

All of a sudden, someone ran into you, causing you to fall to the ground.

"Whoa, sorry! I'm so sorry!" You looked up to see a guy with tousled black hair and noticeable dark circles under his eyes. He quickly extended a hand to help you up. "Are you okay?"

Brushing off your clothes, you nodded and accepted his hand, feeling a surprising strength as he easily pulled you back to your feet.

"You new here?" he asked, studying your face. "You seem a bit lost."

The subtle irony in his comment almost coaxed a smile out of you, especially considering his own worn-out look. "Yeah, it's my first day, and I'm already running late. I'm trying to find Dr. Ieiri's anatomy class."

"No way, that's my class too! Come on, I'll show you, but we need to make it quick," he responded, already moving ahead with a sense of urgency. You hastened to keep pace with his swift strides.

"I'm Yuta Okkotsu, by the way," he introduced himself as you weaved through the bustling corridors. "So, what's the story behind your mid-semester transfer?"

"I was at a different medical school, but then got this offer to transfer here."

Yuta's eyes widened slightly. "An offer to transfer? That's pretty impressive. You must be quite talented."

"I'm not so sure about that, I think I just got lucky."

Yuta led the way through the bustling corridors, his familiarity with the campus evident in every confident turn he took. Finally, you arrived at the large doors of the auditorium where Dr. Ieiri's anatomy class was supposed to be held. Pushing the doors open, you both slipped inside, but there was no sign of the professor yet.

"Made it," Yuta gasped, a grin spreading across his face despite the shortness of breath. "With, uh, time to spare!" He glanced at his watch. "Okay, maybe not."

Yuta, still catching his breath, gestured towards a group sitting near the back. "Come on, you can sit with us. My friends are cool, I promise."

As you followed, you noticed a girl with striking green hair. She was leafing through a thick textbook with an expression that suggested she found the content less than challenging. "That's Maki," Yuta whispered to you. "Don't let her scare you—she's actually really nice."

Maki looked up as you approached. "New student?"

"Transfer student actually," Yuta corrected. "Is Inumaki also running late?"

Before Maki could respond, the doors swung open. But instead of Dr. Ieiri, Dr. Satoru Gojo stepped in, his presence as commanding as when you first saw him.

No way.

The room fell into an instant hush. Dr. Gojo sauntered to the front of the auditorium, his silver hair gleaming in the gentle sun.

"Good morning, class," he began, his voice effortlessly filling the hall. "Dr. Ieiri is unavailable today, so I'll be taking you through the nervous system."

He scribbled his name on the board, one hand nonchalantly tucked into his trouser pocket. Turning back to face the class, he rolled up his sleeves, his captivating blue eyes even more striking without the barrier of surgical glasses.

As his gaze swept across the students, it abruptly landed on you. For a split second, his confident demeanor wavered, replaced by a flicker of surprise crossing his features.

"The first-year?"

Following his gaze, all heads turned towards you—dozens of stabbing eyes.

Fantastic, center stage yet again.

You locked eyes with Gojo for a heartbeat, maybe a minute, maybe a year. Heat spread all over your skin. His lips parted slightly, as if he was about to say something, but then he cleared his throat and regained his professional poise.

"As I was saying," he turned his attention back to the class, "—since Dr. Ieiri isn't here, we'll dive deeper into the nervous system. So listen well."

His eyes met yours one more time before he launched into the lecture.

─── ·✧· ───

As the lecture came to an end, the students began to gather their belongings. You also began to pack up your notes, still processing the intense lecture Dr. Gojo had just given. It was clear—he was not a professor who took it easy on his students.

"Should we grab a bite? We've got a few minutes before the next class," Yuta suggested, glancing at both you and Maki as you made your way towards the exit. But just as you were about to step out, Dr. Gojo's voice halted you in your tracks.

"Not you, first-year."

The remaining students cast curious glances your way as they continued to file out of the auditorium. Yuta paused, his gaze shifting between you and Dr. Gojo.

"I'll catch up later," you said to him. He nodded before disappearing with the last of the students.

Turning back, you found Dr. Gojo leaning nonchalantly against his desk with his arms crossed. His intense gaze was focused on you. The room quickly emptied, leaving only the two of you.

"I'm curious, what brings a first-year into an operating room?" he finally broke the silence.

"Dr. Geto invited me to observe."

"Dr. Geto?" he echoed, pushing himself off from the desk and taking a few steps closer. "How did you come to know him?"

"He invited me to transfer here," you explained. "He's overseeing a research project that I'm a part of."

"You what? You mean you're working with him on the neuroprosthetics?"

"Yes," you simply said.

He paused for a moment, then let out a chuff before taking a few deliberate steps closer. "Tell me, what did it take for you to get into this university? To become part of Suguru's team as a mere first-year student?"

Your brows furrowed slightly. "Are you insinuating something, Dr. Gojo?"

His lips curled into a half-smile, his approach halting just a breath away from you. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of suggesting anything untoward, like a student getting ahead by... unconventional means. That'd be highly inappropriate, wouldn't it?"

The air around you seemed to thicken as he loomed closer, his tall frame nearly casting a shadow over you against the backdrop of the window.

"I didn't know you were even Suguru's type," he continued.

Was he for real?

He knew nothing.

Nothing about the countless hours you'd poured into your studies. Nothing about the sleepless nights spent devouring research papers. Nothing about the relentless drive that had earned you recognition in the scientific community despite your young age. And here he was, accusing you of fucking your way up the ladder.

"Why? Are you jealous?" The words slipped out before you could think.

Gojo's eyes narrowed. His jaw clenched. "I can see why Suguru took an interest."

The intensity of his gaze was unnerving, yet you found yourself unable to look away. It was as if he was trying to read your very thoughts, peeling back layers with nothing but his piercing blue eyes.

For a moment, his gaze drifted downward, lingering on your lips. Your pulse quickened, a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins. "Too bad, I'm on the neuroprosthetics team too," he remarked. "We'll be seeing quite a bit of each other, it seems."

Suddenly, he stepped back, breaking the intensity of the moment. "Make sure you live up to the expectations, first-year. I won't go easy on you just because you're a rookie."

With those final words, he turned away, leaving you standing in the midst of the empty auditorium, your mind racing.

Was he for real real?

─── ·✧· ───

"Ugh, I hate that guy!"

Geto looked up from his desk, a single eyebrow raised in response to your dramatic entrance into his office. "That guy?"

"I mean Dr. Gojo," you clarified, pacing the room. "I can't keep up with his arrogance."

He leaned back in his chair, regarding you with a calm, measured gaze. "He's not as bad as you think. You just need to get to know him better."

Know him better?

Yeah, that was the least you wanted to do.

"He just accused me of sleeping with you to get into this university!"

The words tumbled out of your mouth, more bluntly than you intended. Your relationship with Geto had always been somewhat informal, feeling more like a friendship. But this level of frankness was a step further than usual. But the anger and frustration boiling inside you made it impossible to hold back.

Geto couldn't suppress a laugh. "Sounds like something he would say," he mused, interlacing his fingers behind his head.

You stopped pacing the room and turned to face him. "Ha?"

"Listen," Geto began. "Gojo is a good man. He's always worked hard, so it might be a little irritating for him to see someone new get the recognition he's worked for years to get."

"But I've worked hard too," you countered.

"I know," Geto leaned forward, his elbows resting on the desk. "That's why I invited you here, to be part of my research team. He'll see your potential sooner or later." A warm smile played on his lips.

"So I just have to wait for his approval?"

"It looks like it," Geto shrugged.

Great.

"Besides we need him on this project, so it's best if you two find a way to get along. You'll learn a lot working with Gojo," he added.

You sighed. "I'm not so sure about that."

"Gojo is not easily impressed. But I have a feeling that you made quite an impression on him with your boldness in the operating room the other day. Not many students would suggest such an approach as you did."

"Is that a compliment?"

"You can take it as one, yes," he replied with a chuckle. He then stood up and began packing his bag. "Oh, and also, we're starting work on the project tomorrow, right after your last class."

Fantastic.

"Tomorrow?"

"Yes," he confirmed, nodding. "I think it's best we dive right in. Gojo will be there too, of course. It'll be a good opportunity for both of you to start fresh." His smile widened, a glint of amusement in his eyes.

You couldn't help but feel he was somewhat enjoying the situation.

─── ·✧· ───

The air was filled with the sterile scent of preservatives.

Anatomy class was in full swing, the only sound being the quiet murmur of focused students. You stood at your desk next to Yuta, Maki, and Toge, each of you meticulously dissecting and examining organs under the microscope. But your mind was elsewhere, lost in a blur of thoughts about the research project starting later that day.

As you sliced an organ in half with a practiced hand, your gaze drifted unfocused, the image under the microscope blurring. A wave of nausea washed over you. Perhaps it was the onset of the flu, or perhaps it was a convenient excuse to avoid facing Gojo later.

"Hey, you okay?" Yuta's voice pulled you back to the present. You realized you had been staring blankly at the tissue sample for longer than necessary.

"Yeah, just thinking about the project later."

Maki glanced over, her eyes sharp behind her safety glasses. "With Dr. Gojo, right? That's going to be—interesting."

You paused. "What do you mean?"

"Dr. Gojo, well, he's notorious for being an ass," Maki said, her focus still on her own dissection. "He's undeniably a genius, but he's also—brutal. He has a way of pushing students to their limits, often too far."

Fantastic.

Just what you needed to hear.

Your stomach churned. "I had a feeling about that."

"His standards are high, and he's not exactly gentle in his criticism. If you don't meet his expectations, he'll let you know, and not kindly," she continued. "He's made more than a few students question their life choices."

"Yeah, I've heard similar stories. You either meet his expectations or you're pretty much done," Yuta added.

The thought of working with Dr. Gojo was getting more fun by the minute.

Maybe you should call in sick.

Toge contributed his one-word insight, "God complex," which seemed to perfectly sum up the mood of the conversation about Dr. Gojo.

"But—," Maki interjected, finally looking up, "—he's still the best in his field. If you can handle the pressure, he's undoubtedly the one to learn from."

Yeah, but what was the price for that?

You let out a tired sigh.

Returning to your task, you carefully aligned the organ under the microscope. Gojo was intimidating, no doubt, but you had worked your ass off to reach this point. You weren't going to back down just because he was a dick. After all, Geto was also working on the project, so how bad could it possibly be then?

You glanced up from the microscope to adjust its focus. However, you couldn't help but notice Yuta. He glanced at Maki over his microscope with this look—that certain look.

Interesting.

─── ·✧· ───

"Your idea is just ridiculous!"

"Oh really? Yours is just shit!"

You didn't know how it ended up like this. It was barely two minutes into the discussion about a critical aspect of the research project, and here you were, shouting at each other. The entire lab had gone silent, all eyes glued to the heated exchange. Geto, leaning against a counter, watched the scene unfold with an amused smile playing on his lips.

"Your approach could compromise the entire neural interface integration," you argued. "It's too aggressive and doesn't take into account the potential for neural tissue damage."

Gojo was standing so close, that you could see the flecks of color in his eyes, feel the heat radiating off him. And could probably spit in his face.

Maybe you should do that.

His approach was risky—dangerous even. How could he not see that?

"It's necessary," Gojo countered. "—playing it safe doesn't always work."

Yeah, you know that. But not in this case, not with this patient. It was borderline reckless.

"There's a fine line between a breakthrough and recklessness," you shot back.

"You're so naive," he retorted, stepping even closer. "You don't understand when it's time to take some risks."

You stared at him. "Taking risks? No, you're just being insane!"

"You—" he started but Geto quickly intervened.

"Alright, that's enough for now," he said, placing a hand on each of your shoulders, physically creating space between you and Gojo. "Let's take a break."

But Gojo's eyes never left yours, unbroken even as Geto gently shoved him backwards. You stood there, your breath ragged, your heart racing. Around you, the lab slowly came back to life as the others resumed their tasks, occasionally stealing glances in your direction.

"Could you get us some coffee?" Geto asked, pressing a few bills into your hand.

Yeah. Sure.

You nodded. The unexpected surge of adrenaline that had coursed through your veins didn't leave you needing caffeine, but hell, you took anything that would get you away from him. As you made your way out of the lab, you could still feel his gaze on you.

Taking your time, you wandered to the cafeteria. Okay, maybe you just didn't find the way. But you didn't really care. The university was already empty at this hour. The moonlight streamed through the windows, casting long shadows that danced along the walls.

By the time you returned to the lab, the coffee had grown cold in your hands. Geto immediately perked up at your return, pushing himself away from his desk and walking over to you. "Ah, great," he said with a smile, taking a cup from your hands. "Thanks."

Your gaze shifted to Gojo, who hadn't moved an inch, his attention seemingly absorbed by the computer screen in front of him. Without a word, you placed his cup on his desk.

The rest of the evening was a blur of lab work, discussions, and planning.

You were focused on analyzing a blood sample to identify specific markers and genetic predispositions to determine if a patient was eligible for research. Normally an easy task, but your concentration began to waver.

Glancing at the clock, you noticed that it was well past midnight. The lab was quiet, most of the equipment was turned off, and the only light was the dim glow of a few workstations. Geto had left some time ago, urging you to do the same, but you stayed. It would take longer to continue your work tomorrow than to finish it now.

However, each test you ran seemed to produce inconclusive or erratic results. You rechecked the protocols, ran the tests again, but the results were still the same. Exhaustion was clouding your judgment, leading you to make mistakes you wouldn't normally make.

After yet another failed attempt, you let out a sigh and rubbed your tired eyes.

How was this so fucking hard all of a sudden?

"Let me help you," said a voice from behind you. It was Gojo. You thought he had already left, or maybe you were just so focused on your own task. You felt his presence close behind you as he leaned in to examine the blood sample results on the screen.

"See here," he said, so close you could feel the warmth of his breath. He reached around you to steer the controls, his arms encircling you. Your skin heated. "The centrifugation speed and time must be precisely calibrated. It affects the separation of cellular components, which is critical for accurate marker identification."

You nodded slightly, even though you already knew that. Somehow, you were now a bit ashamed of your own sudden stupidity. As the sample was prepared and placed for analysis, his presence remained close, his body heat and the soft cadence of his breathing a constant distraction. The results started to display on the screen, this time showing the definitive patterns you had been seeking.

"No need to thank me," Gojo said, straightening up—giving you some much-needed air to breathe. "You should go home, it's late."

You glanced at the clock on the wall. Yeah, you should really go home.

As Gojo moved towards the door, he paused briefly, his hand resting on the handle. "Burning out won't do you, or the project, any good."

You watched him for a moment. Somehow, in the dim light, his features softened the usually sharp lines of his face. "Are you concerned?"

"Concerned that you mess this project up," he said with a grin on his lips.

You let out a tired sigh. "Of course."

─── ·✧· ───

Another day. Another fight.

The tension in the lab was palpable as you and Gojo stood across from each other. The issue had resurfaced. So had the friction between your methods. Your opposing views seemed like an insurmountable chasm.

"You're not considering the long-term implications of your approach," you insisted, your voice tinged with frustration. "We need to think about patient recovery, not just the immediate results."

"The primary goal is to ensure the success of the procedure. Your 'cautious' tactics might compromise the project's objectives," Gojo retorted.

You bristled at his words. "It's not about being cautious—it's about being thorough and responsible. We can't afford to overlook potential complications."

The debate intensified, each point you made met with a sharp rebuttal from Gojo. As the argument escalated, he took a step closer, his blue eyes locked on yours. "Your method will not work, first-year. Playing it safe will kill this patient."

His proximity was overwhelming, and for a moment, you lost your train of thought, caught up in the intensity of his gaze. "My method will keep him alive," you managed to say, trying to regain your composure.

Before he could respond, you glanced at the clock on the wall and realized with a start that you were late for your class. "I have to go," you said abruptly, the urgency of the situation breaking the tension.

"We're not done with this discussion," Gojo snapped.

"Yeah, whatever," you said as you hurried out of the lab and rushed to your class.

Gojo let out a low hiss under his breath. As you left the lab, Geto approached him, his expression serious despite the hint of a smile on his lips. Some might say he looked scary.

"Satoru," Geto began. "Can we talk for a minute?"

Gojo turned, his posture stiffening. "About what?"

Geto crossed his arms, leaning back against a lab table. "Could you please stop pissing off my precious student?"

"Ha?" he said, raking a hand through his hair. "Are you seriously siding with her?"

"I am," Geto confirmed. "I wanted her on this project because she and I are on the same page."

"Of course you are."

"Satoru, I don't want to throw you off this project, so please try to find a middle ground with her. Give her a chance."

Gojo exhaled sharply, the lines on his face softening slightly. "Your approach is too cautious. It won't work."

Geto maintained his calm demeanor. "We'll see."

"Fine," Gojo finally conceded. "I'll try to—work with her. On one condition."

"And what's that?" Geto asked, raising an eyebrow.

"We do it my way if your approach doesn't work," Gojo said.

"Fair enough."

Gojo looked away, his gaze settling on the empty space where you had stood moments before. There was a brief pause, his mind racing.

"Suguru, what exactly do you see in her?" Gojo asked after a while.

"Hm?" Geto looked at Gojo thoughtfully. "She has potential, wouldn't you say?"

"Yeah, potential," Gojo echoed, his voice trailing off slightly.

Geto tilted his head.

─── ·✧· ───

The sun streamed through the windows of the anatomy classroom, casting a warm glow across the rows of desks. Despite the bright light, your eyelids felt heavy, the endless fights with Gojo replaying in your mind and robbing you of much-needed energy.

You sat beside Yuta, Maki, and Toge, struggling to focus on the lecturer's words.

"Rough day?" Yuta whispered.

You propped your head up with one hand, blinking rapidly in a vain attempt to clear the fog of fatigue. "More like a rough week."

"You look like shit," Maki remarked.

"Thanks."

As the lecturer continued discussing the intricacies of human anatomy, your thoughts drifted back to Gojo. Despite all the arguments you had with him, all you could think about was the memory of his intense gaze, his closeness, his soft voice, even his scent. It made it impossible to concentrate on the lecture.

Yuta nudged you gently when you almost nodded off, your head dipping forward. "You really should get some rest after this."

Suddenly, an announcement woke you up in an instant.

"Now we'll do a quick test." Dr. Ieiri announced. "It's crucial for your upcoming exams."

A collective groan echoed through the class. You froze, your heart sinking. A test was the last thing you needed right now.

Yuta turned to you. "You got this," he said, trying to offer some encouragement.

You weren't so sure.

As the test papers were distributed, you stared blankly at the questions. Your mind, usually sharp and focused during exams, felt sluggish and unresponsive. One by one, you read through the questions, trying to recall the knowledge you knew was hopefully buried somewhere in your tired brain.

Fuck.

It was all questions about something like skin, bones and that shit. You could recall every little detail about the brain, but bones? Fuck, you really should have paid attention in that class.

Panic set in as you realized that you might actually fail this test.

─── ·✧· ───

1:07 AM.

You were still wide awake.

Tossing and turning, you found sleep elusive. Everything that had happened lately was replaying in your mind. You had barely been in Tokyo for a few weeks and your life was already so different. You barely had time to fix up your apartment, the moving boxes still there, waiting to be opened. And then the anatomy test—

You needed a distraction, something to focus on that wasn't your own disappointment.

So you decided to head back to the university lab. Maybe immersing yourself in work would help clear your head. The quiet, empty streets at this hour were oddly comforting as you drove to the campus. Upon arriving at the lab, you were surprised to see the lights already on. You pushed the door open, stepping into the familiar space.

No way.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, unable to hide your surprise.

Gojo hunched over a microscope, deeply engrossed in his work. He looked up, his expression one of mild annoyance. "I could ask you the same," he replied.

Nice.

Even in the lab, it seemed you couldn't escape his presence. He was always there, haunting both your mind and your reality.

"You shouldn't work so late. You're still a student," Gojo remarked.

You glanced at him. "Yeah, you've already told me that. But I want this project to work just as much as you."

Gojo looked your way, his striking blue eyes catching the dim lab light. "Don't you ever take a break? Go out? Maybe party or so?"

You observed him for a moment. His hair was disheveled, giving him a more relaxed, approachable look than usual. "I'm not really into the party scene," you admitted.

"I guessed as much," he responded, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he returned his focus back to his work.

"What's that supposed to mean?" you asked, somewhat hurt.

"It's not a criticism, just an observation."

Setting up at a nearby workstation, you began reviewing some data on a patient you were about to perform surgery on. He was the first to receive a transplant directly into his cerebral cortex, hoping to bypass the damaged spinal cord and allow direct brain control of a prosthetic limb.

It was the first time such an operation had ever been performed. And Geto would be the one to do the surgery. Gojo would have normally, but he refused. He was still convinced it was the wrong approach. Even though all the data showed otherwise.

Sipping from your coffee, you glanced over at Gojo, finding a strange comfort in his presence. He worked with a focus and intensity that was almost mesmerizing.

3:23 AM.

Exhaustion weighed heavily on your eyelids as you completed the final analysis. Now all you had to do was wait for the results. You rested your head on your hand, sinking lower and lower until your head touched the cool surface of the desk. Maybe a short nap wouldn't hurt.

Time passed unnoticed until a gentle touch caressed your cheek. It jolted you from sleep. You flinched slightly, your eyes fluttering open. Your gaze slowly traveled up, finally locking with Gojo's eyes. He stood beside you, his thumb lingering just a moment longer on your skin, stroking lightly over your cheek.

"You hungry?"

You straightened up, pulling back a little. Suddenly conscious of the close proximity. A warm flush spread across your cheeks.

Gojo pulled up a chair, turned it backwards and faced you. He unwrapped a small meal he had brought from a nearby bakery, the scent of fresh pastries filling the air.

There was a casual ease to his movements. Like everything he did. Whether he was slicing through a brain or just existing. He always seemed so unbothered. As if he knew he would never fail at anything anyway.

Blinking tiredly, you rubbed your eyes, trying to shake off the lingering veil of sleep. As you moved, a jacket slipped from your shoulders. His jacket. He must have draped it over your shoulders while you slept. It smelled like him.

"Keep it," he said before you could part your lips. "The body cools down after sleep."

"Always the doctor, aren't you?" you replied with a hint of a smile, pulling the jacket back around your shoulders. "Thank you."

Reaching for the pastry he had brought, you became acutely aware of his gaze. The intensity in his eyes that sent shivers down your spine.

"Tell me something about yourself."

"What do you want to know?" you asked, taking a bite of the pastry.

"Everything."

You chuckled. "That would take a while."

"I've got time."

You hesitated for a moment, feeling his gaze still intently on you.

"Tell me how Suguru found you," he continued.

"Back in my hometown, I was already in medical university, working on a research project about a specific type of brain tumor called glioblastoma multiforme. My mentor at the time encouraged me to publish a paper on my findings. It seems that Geto stumbled upon my work. That's how I ended up here."

"Impressive," he said. "Why this specific type of brain tumor?"

A lump formed in your throat. "Because my father died of it."

Gojo paused, his eyes searching yours, as if trying to read your thoughts.

"My father was a neurosurgeon, too. I practically grew up in operating rooms," you continued.

"Why did he die?"

The directness of his question caught you slightly off guard. You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts.

"The tumor was too aggressive. The surgery was useless, he knew that, but he wanted it anyway. They tried a radical surgery to remove as much of the tumor as possible while preserving vital brain function. But it failed. My father was just dead meat breathing after the surgery. My mother never got over that loss. I think she lost her mind."

The gruesome edge of your words surprised him, his eyes widening slightly. You looked away, unable to maintain eye contact with Gojo as his stupidly handsome blue eyes seemed to pierce your soul.

Silence stretched between you two.

"I'm sorry," Gojo said eventually.

"It's okay. He's long gone," your eyes lingered on the pastry. "It's what drove me to neurology," you continued, gathering the courage to look up at him. "I wanted to contribute to something that might change outcomes for people like my father."

"Is that why you want to go for the safe approach with the patient in our neuroprosthetics project?"

You thought about it. But it wouldn't help to lie anyway. "Yeah, that's probably it."

Gojo ran his fingers through his hair, releasing a weary exhale.

"Tell me about you now," you said, changing the subject.

He paused, then offered a brief, wry smile. "Not married, no girlfriend, no kids."

"That's not really what I meant."

"Sure?" he teased, the corners of his mouth turning up in a playful smile.

"Why not?" you asked him. This was indeed interesting. He was handsome. Tall. Barely in his thirties. A famous neurosurgeon. He was basically the whole package. Except—

"No time, I guess," he said.

"What a lame excuse," you retorted, leaning back in your chair. You stretched your arms above your head, trying to relieve the tension that had built up in your muscles. A slight smile lingered on your lips as you added, "I guess you're just too much ego for any woman to handle."

"Oh, sweetheart," Gojo replied, the nickname rolling off his tongue with a natural ease. "I suspect you have just as much ego as me."

Suddenly, Gojo stood up and closed the distance between you. You remained seated, looking up at him, your heart rate quickening. For a moment, he just stood there, looking down at you. The intensity in his gaze was palpable, and you found yourself caught in it, unable to look away. The room seemed to shrink, the space between you charged.

Then, leaning in, Gojo brought his face close to yours, his breath a whisper against your ear. The proximity sent a shiver down your spine. "Bad for you," he murmured softly, his voice a low rumble, "I do like arrogant woman."

Before you could respond, he straightened up. "Good night," he said. "You should get some sleep."

With that, he turned and walked out of the lab, leaving you sitting there. The air seemed to shift back to normal as the door closed behind him.

─── ·✧· ───

Your legs hurt. Your back hurt. Your hips hurt. Your neck hurt.

Everything hurt.

You stood on the sidelines of the operating room for nearly 6 hours. Standing still on the same spot. You'll never get used to that. It's the worst part of the job. But it was still a privilege to witness Geto and Gojo in surgery, right?

The room was filled with the sound of beeping monitors and the low murmur of the assisting surgical team. From your vantage point, you had a clear view of the procedure and the surgeons. They worked together with a quiet efficiency that was fascinating.

However, as you watched, something about Gojo caught your attention. His movements seemed slightly off. You started noticing it about an hour ago. But no one said anything. His hair was drenched in sweat and clung to his forehead. You could see the slight trembling in his hands, almost imperceptible.

Something was definitely off.

Your gaze lingered on him, studying his every move.

"First-year."

Gojo suddenly paused and looked up, his eyes meeting yours. You flinched slightly, as he caught you starring at him. "You want to try the next part?" he asked, his voice cutting through the hum of the operating room.

Was he serious?

Before you could reply, Geto interjected, "Satoru, are you joking? She's still a student."

Gojo's gaze didn't waver from you. "I know. But you said she's your best student," he replied his lips twitching with a smile. "I want to test that."

"You've done aneurysm surgery before, back in your hometown, right?" Gojo asked you.

Did he google you or what?

"Yes," you replied.

"Then step forward," he said.

You hesitated. Your gaze drifted to Geto for confirmation. Geto hesitated, then gave a slight nod.

Heart pounding, you stepped forward to the operating table. A rush of adrenaline surged through you. You took the offered surgical tools with a steady hand from Gojo, his eyes locked with yours. "We're going to work on clipping the aneurysm now. You've done it before, right?"

"Yes," you replied, your voice steady despite the racing of your heart.

"Good." He moved closer, positioning himself so he could guide you while still giving you control. "Start with an incision here," he instructed, pointing to a specific area on the patient's brain with his own instrument.

You could feel his gaze over your shoulder; the warmth of his body near yours. As you made the initial incision, Gojo moved even closer. "Now, carefully dissect the tissue to expose the aneurysm," he continued.

Your hands worked around the fragile brain. You did surgery before. Yes. But this was another level. Every eye of every nurse and doctor in the room was on you. Geto was monitoring the patient's data. He glanced at you from time to time, his expression unreadable. But you were at least three inches deep into a human brain, so there was no way out anyway.

After that, you would certainly have to vomit from the adrenaline.

At one critical point, your hands hesitated. Your heart almost exploded. In that moment, you could either kill this patient or save him. "Calm down," Gojo said, so low and close to your ear that only you could hear it. Gojo's hand cupped yours gently. "You're doing fine. Trust yourself," he murmured. His touch was brief, but it was enough to ground you for a moment.

Sweat trickled down your forehead as you isolated the aneurysm and prepared it for clipping.

"Good," he whispered.

Finally, as you placed the clip on the aneurysm and secured it, a wave of accomplishment washed over you. Hell, you really did it.

"Congratulations, an excellent clipping," Gojo said, his lips forming a smile. "You can step back now."

"Thank you, Dr. Gojo," you whispered. As you stepped back, a wide smile spread across your face, hidden beneath the mask but undeniable in the sparkle of your eyes.

Gojo took the lead again to close up the patient. But his gaze shifted to you every now and then.

Geto's eyes narrowed.

─── ·✧· ───

"You did a good job in there."

Gojo glanced in your direction as you both washed up in the scrub room after the operation.

"Thanks," you replied, meeting his eyes.

"I may have underestimated you," he said, his lips curving into a teasing smile.

Wait? Was that a compliment? From him?

Before you could respond, the door to the scrub room burst open. Geto stormed in, his face flushed with anger. He tore off his scrubs and threw them into the trash with a thud that made you flinch.

"We need to talk, Satoru," he said sharply. His intense gaze was fixed solely on Gojo, as if you weren't even there.

Shit.

Gojo calmly turned off the tap and reached for a towel, drying his hands with deliberate slowness. His face was an unreadable mask. He gave you a brief glance before following Geto out of the room.

"Don't you dare fuck my student," Geto hissed before the door had even fully closed behind them. But it didn't matter anyway, you could hear their voices through the thin walls.

Gojo leaned back against a table. His arms crossed over his chest. "What are you getting at?"

"Don't try to fuck with me, Satoru. I've seen the way you look at her."

"I supervised her, so that she wouldn't kill the patient. That's all you saw."

"Supervision?" Geto's voice was sharp. "Since when do you let a student handle such a crucial part of a surgery? What's gotten into you? What if she had screwed up?"

Gojo's eyes narrowed. "What's your problem? She's proven herself capable, and she performed brilliantly today, don't you think?"

Geto advanced a step, closing the distance between them. His frustration palpable. "This isn't like you, Satoru. You're blurring lines that should remain clear. She's a student. You're supposed to be her mentor, not—not whatever you're turning this into."

The room went silent.

"Your concern is noted, but misplaced," Gojo said. "My interest in her is purely professional. She has potential, real potential, and it's my job to support that."

Geto's expression hardened. "That's right, she has potential, and you're risking that if you can't keep your hands off her."

"What?" Gojo pushed away from the table. "Because you want her for yourself?"

"I can't believe you'd go there," Geto snapped back. "I brought her here because she's damn good at what she does, not for any other reason."

Gojo's face tightened, a muscle twitching in his jaw. "You should know me better, Suguru. I was giving her a shot to show her skills, that's all."

In a sudden move, Geto closed the distance and grasped Gojo's shirt, pulling him forward. Their faces were just inches apart. "Listen, Satoru," Geto said. "I'm dead serious. One wrong step, one slip, and you could ruin everything—her career, the project, your own reputation. Don't think I'll stand by and watch that happen."

Gojo's eyes met Geto's, unflinching. He placed his hands on Geto's to release his grip. "I hear you, Suguru," he said. "But you're wrong. My interest in her is purely professional."

"Make sure it stays that way," Geto warned. He released his grip and stepped back.

Geto then turned and left the room. Gojo turned his head to look at you through the small window in the door that separated you. Your eyes briefly met his before he also left, his footsteps echoing down the corridor.

Great.

─── ·✧· ───

This day couldn't get any better.

You stood at the exit of the hospital. It was pouring.

Resigned, you decided to wait near the exit, hoping the rain would stop soon. Minutes passed, but the rain showed no signs of stopping.

"Waiting out the rain?" a familiar voice called out from behind.

You turned to see Gojo appeared. He had changed out of his surgical scrubs and was now in his regular clothes. His muscular arms and broad shoulders visible even under his loose button-down.

"Yeah, it looks like I'm stuck here for a while."

Gojo opened his umbrella. "Come on, I'll walk you to your car."

You hesitated for a moment.

"Suguru already left, don't worry," he added, as if reading your thoughts.

You frowned slightly. "That's not what I was concerned about."

"Then why are you hesitating?" He took a step closer, the umbrella now over you both. He stood at least a head taller than you, looking down at you with heavy eyes. You studied the tired lines in his face, the slight dark circles under his eyes.

"You look tired."

"Do I?" Gojo's voice was deep, his gaze lingering shamelessly on your lips. "Perhaps I am. I've been thinking about you all night."

"Bold statement, especially after Geto's warning."

"I'm not afraid of Suguru."

"Is that why you let me operate today? To piss him off?"

He leaned forward. "I let you operate because you can operate. Suguru is hesitant. He likes to play safe. With me, you'll have more challenge—more fun."

"Are we still talking about surgery?"

"Of course, sweetheart," he replied with a grin. "Come on, It's been a long day. I insist."

"Okay," you finally relented. "Thank you."

You stepped out into the rain together. The umbrella shielded you both as you walked side by side. You walked in silence, the only sound being the gentle drumming of raindrops. Gojo subtly shifted the umbrella, ensuring you were completely covered. His shoulder got wet.

When you reached your car, you turned to him. Somehow you stood so close now. His breath hot against you skin. Your stomach turned slightly, but you tried to brush the feeling off. "Thank you," you said softly, "—for everything today."

"Can I ask you for a favor?" He asked suddenly.

"Sure."

"Can you help me with a project?"

"Another project? Besides the neuroprosthetics?" you asked.

"It's a private one. I could use your assistance with processing data."

"Let me know when and where."

He smiled. "Perfect."

Gojo smoothly opened the car door for you, still holding the umbrella over your head. "Take care," he said gently, his gaze lingering on you a moment longer than necessary. You both remained frozen. The world outside the umbrella a blur.

"You too," you finally replied, breaking the moment. As you got into your car, you were acutely aware of his eyes still on you.

He closed the door for you and turned.

─── ·✧· ───

"Sorry in advance if this hurts."

You tried to insert the needle, your hand less steady than usual. The needle missed the vein, making Yuta wince. "Sorry," you wiped sweat from your forehead. Then tried again, quickly changing the needle.

A week had passed since the fight between Geto and Gojo. Since then, Gojo hadn't visited the lab. You didn't know what to make of it. But perhaps it was for the better. Less fighting after all. Gojo still didn't approve of your approach.

Still, you couldn't force your mind to stop racing. Perhaps it was the immense workload you had. The research project, not to mention Gojo's personal research project, and inevitably, Gojo himself.

You were in practical class, sitting with Maki, Yuta, and Toge, focusing on a seemingly simple task—practicing drawing blood. But you failed every time.

Yuta gave you a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, you've done this a hundred times."

Yeah. Not really, but you should probably not tell him that right now.

You took a deep breath and tried again. Failed.

"It's alright, give it another go," Yuta said, even after you had stabbed his arm too many times to be comfortable.

The needle slipped again and missed the mark. "I'm sorry, Yuta. I don't know what's wrong with me today."

"Pressure?" Toge asked.

"Yeah, I guess it's a lot lately."

Suddenly, Dr. Kento, the instructor for this practical lesson, appeared behind you. His stoic demeanor sent a shiver down your spine without you having to see it.

"You're really not good at this," he commented bluntly, not really befitting a professor. But it was true.

Forcing a smile, you turned to face him. "Just a bit off my game today."

Dr. Kento's expression remained impassive. "Drawing blood is a basic skill. You should be able to do it in your sleep," he lectured. "But you look like you're torturing your patient."

"Ehh—," you began, turning back to Yuta and only then noticing his pained expression. All color had drained from his face.

Oops.

Dr. Kento's gaze then swept across the room, capturing the attention of the entire class. "Everyone needs to master this," he continued. "I expect you to be able to do this by the end of the week."

You kidding, right?

It was already Thursday. He basically meant tomorrow.

As if on cue, the bell rang.

You and your friends began to gather your belongings. As the room buzzed with the chatter of students packing up, Yuta brought up a topic that immediately drew everyone's interest.

"Hey, about the sports festival, which team should we join?"

"Sports festival?" you echoed, feeling slightly out of the loop. Your focus on the lab work had left you missing everything else that happened on campus.

Yuta nodded. "Yeah, it's a big event. Every year there's a sports festival in the summer with a bunch of team sports events and competitions."

Toge, usually reserved, showed a flicker of excitement. "Basketball."

"Yeah, the professors usually form a basketball team against the students. Should we join?" Yuta asked.

Maki already scrolled through her phone, looking up the festival details. "We should register then, hmm ... oh the professor team is already full, and .. oh Dr. Gojo and Dr. Geto are in the team."

"I bet they are just as competitive on the court as they are in the OR," Yuta added.

"Join?" Toge asked.

"Sure," Maki commented, scrolling through her phone for more details.

Out of curiosity, you asked, "Does anyone here even play basketball?"

Yuta, scratching his chin thoughtfully, replied, "Well, I've played a bit. And Maki's naturally good at anything, so—" he paused, seemingly realizing what he just said. His face turned a shade redder. "Ehh, I mean, you've played basketball before, right, Maki?"

Maki just shrugged, a confident smirk on her face. "He's not wrong."

"So, are we doing this?" you asked.

Everyone nodded in agreement.

Great.

Now you had to learn how to play basketball too.

─── ·✧· ───

Later that day, you found yourself outside Gojo's office, clutching the stack of papers you had prepared for his research project. Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you knocked softly before entering.

"Dr. Gojo, I've finished the analysis you requested," you said, placing the papers on his desk.

"Thank you. I'll check these later," he said, not looking up from his computer.

You turned to leave. But just as you reached the door, Gojo's voice halted you.

"Wait."

You paused, turning back to face him.

"Wash your hands. There are syringes and needles in the drawer on the bottom right."

"What?" you asked, not sure what he wanted from you.

He looked up from his computer. "You're embarrassing me," he said bluntly. "You know what Kento said to me earlier? He said, and I quote, 'Are you stupid? How can you let a student operate on the brain who can barely get a needle through skin?'"

You felt a knot forming in your stomach.

"It was just not my day, really," you stammered, trying to defend yourself, though your voice lacked conviction.

"How many times have you done that before?" he asked, his gaze intimidating.

You were lost for words.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," he said, more to himself than to you. He stood up from his desk and rolled up his sleeves.

Before you knew it, you found yourself sitting next to him, wearing gloves and poised with a needle in hand. Gojo's arm was outstretched towards you, the veins visible beneath his skin. You stared at his arm. Somehow your mind now completely blank.

"Aren't you going to tie a band around my arm to make my veins more visible first?" he asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Oh, right," you muttered, your cheeks flushing. You wrapped the band around his arm and secured it tightly. Your fingers trembled slightly as they touched his firm skin. The contact felt unexpectedly intimate. It made your heart race.

He watched you, his expression softening slightly. "Easy now," he said in a more encouraging tone. "It's not hard. Just focus."

Taking a deep breath, you tried to steady your trembling hands. The needle hovered over his vein, and for a moment, you were acutely aware of the silence in the room, punctuated only by the sound of your own erratic heartbeat.

You hesitated.

"Use your little finger against my arm to anchor your hand," he said.

Following his advice, you rested your finger against his skin, feeling a surprising steadiness in your hand.

"And angle the needle slightly," he added. "It's about finding the right entry point—not too steep, not too shallow."

You adjusted the angle of the needle accordingly, aiming for the vein. The tip pierced the skin, and this time, it slid into the vein smoothly. You let out a heavy exhale.

"Good," he said. "Now, draw the blood gently."

As you carefully drew the blood, you could feel Gojo's eyes on your hands, monitoring your technique. Once the procedure was complete and you carefully removed the needle. "Much better," he rolled down his sleeve, a slight arch of his eyebrow. "How is it that you've never really done that before?"

"I don't need to draw blood if I'm operating on the brain," you said with a shrug.

Gojo watched you, a stunned expression flickering across his face.

"The nurses usually handle that anyway," you added, hoping to clarify your point.

There was a moment of silence as he processed what you just said. Finally, he shook his head slightly. "I'm just going to ignore what you just said," he replied.

Changing the subject, he leaned back in his chair. "By the way, I saw your name on the list for the students' basketball team for the upcoming sports festival."

You raised your eyebrows, peeling off your gloves. "Oh, you did?"

"Yeah," he said, a playful glint appearing in his eyes. "I didn't know you played basketball. But I have to admit, I'm curious to see if you're as good at basketball as you are at clipping aneurysms."

"I haven't really played much before, so you might want to lower your expectations," a small smile tugged at your lips. "Have you played before?"

"I used to play pretty regularly when I was in universtiy," he said.

Great.

If he was anywhere near as good at basketball as he was at surgery, you were fucked.

"You should teach me then," you quipped, not quite meeting his gaze. As the words left your lips, you immediately realized the implication. You turned to him, a blush coloring your cheeks. "It's just a joke."

His smile widened. "Oh really? Too bad, I'd have liked that."

The room fell into silence.

You found yourself staring at him, and he returned your gaze.

His silver hair had a few strands that were slightly out of place. Your eyes studied his face as if seeing it for the first time. The typical intensity in his blue eyes had softened, replaced by an almost gentle expression. His sharp jawline moved slightly, as if he were pondering something.

Breaking the silence, you finally spoke, your voice softer than intended. "I wonder what you were like back in your university days."

"Why do you ask?"

"It's hard to imagine you not being the controlled surgeon you are now."

"You think I'm controlled?"

"No, that's not what I meant," you hurried to clarify. "I mean, you're always so focused, so—precise, and—"

Before you could finish, he leaned in closer, his intense gaze holding you captive. The world around you seemed to fade into a blur, leaving only the two of you in sharp focus. You could feel the warmth of his breath, barely a whisper away from your skin.

Gojo reached out, his hand gently cupping your chin. He lifted your face slightly, ensuring your eyes met directly.

"If you keep looking at me like that, I might lose my control sooner than you'd expect," he said, his thumb lightly brushing your jawline.

After a moment that seemed to stretch on, he slowly withdrew his hand and stepped back, breaking the connection. He turned away from you and walked back to his desk. "Thank you for your work. You can leave now."

─── ·✧· ───

The late afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the university's outdoor basketball court. Maki, Toge, Yuta, and you had gathered for practice, despite the lingering summer heat.

"I can't believe we're actually doing this," you said, dribbling the basketball on the sun-baked concrete. "None of us are exactly pros."

Maki, tying her hair back, grinned. "Speak for yourself. I've got some hidden talents." She effortlessly caught the ball and shot it toward the hoop, scoring a basket. "See?"

Yuta laughed and retrieved the ball. "That's just beginner's luck, Maki. Watch and learn." He took a shot, but the ball bounced off the rim.

"Practice," Toge said.

"Yeah, we really need more practice," you finished his sentence.

"Hey, watch this!" Yuta called out, attempting a fancy dribble move, only to lose control of the ball. It rolled away, and Toge scooped it up and passed it back with a short, "Focus."

"You're one to talk," Maki teased, swiping the ball from Toge and lobbing it towards the basket. It swished through the net effortlessly. "I still got it!"

You caught the ball and wiped the sweat from your brow. "I never thought we'd be practicing basketball as medical students."

Maki turned to you with a curious look. "Speaking of training, how's the research going? You've been spending a lot of time with Geto and Gojo."

You began to dribble the ball, more or less. "It's intense, but I'm learning a lot. Dr. Geto is incredibly intelligent, and well, working with Dr. Gojo is—an experience."

"An experience, huh?" Maki said with a grin "Is that code for 'Dr. Handsome has some unique ways of teaching me'?"

You flinched. Yuta quickly snatched the ball from your unfocused grip and shot it through the net.

"Dr. Handsome?" you echoed.

Maki opened a bottle of water. "Don't tell me he's not good-looking—they both are."

"I mean, they both definitely have their—charm, I guess."

"Charm, huh?" Maki teased, taking a sip of her water. "I've seen the way Dr. Gojo looks at you. There's definitely something."

"It's not like that," you protested, though your defensive tone might have suggested otherwise. "He's just an incredible surgeon to work with, that's all."

"He did let you operate with him, though. That's all I'm saying," Maki added.

"Aneurisym," Toge chimed in.

Yuta, bouncing the ball beside you, added, "Yeah, he let you operate on an aneurysm with him, which is pretty crazy."

You rolled your eyes. "Can we focus on the festival game instead of me?"

Maki laughed. "Alright, alright, we'll drop it. But seriously, how's the project going? I mean, besides the whole Dr. Handsome thing."

Yeah, where to start on that.

Taking a deep breath, you told them more about the research project.

─── ·✧· ───

As the sun began to sink lower in the sky, painting the horizon in shades of orange and pink. You were still on the basketball court, practicing your shots. The others had already left. The court was quiet, except for the rhythmic bounce of the basketball and the occasional swish of the net.

Suddenly, a familiar voice cut through. "Hey, First-year."

Startled, you turned to see Gojo approaching the court. He was dressed in athletic attire—a black, skin-tight t-shirt and shorts that looked criminally good on him.

"Dr. Gojo," you said, a bit surprised to see him there. "I didn't expect to see you practicing."

He picked up a basketball and began dribbling with ease. "I like to keep my skills sharp," he said, shooting a casual glance in your direction. "And I heard there was a new challenger on the students team."

You let out a tired sigh. "I'm just trying to make sure I don't embarrass myself too much at the festival," you admitted.

"Have more confidence in yourself, first-year. You're operating on brains, there's no room for doubts." Gojo shot the ball towards the hoop, scoring effortlessly. "And by the way, stop calling me Dr., just Gojo is fine."

"Alright, Gojo," you said.

Gojo passed the ball to you with a casual flick of his wrist. "Come on, first-year. Show me what you've got."

A cold shiver ran down your skin. Oddly, having to demonstrate your non-existent basketball skills felt more intimidating than clipping an aneurysm in front of him.

You positioned yourself at the three-point line, bouncing the ball a few times to find your rhythm. With a deep breath, you aimed and threw the ball, but it bounced off the rim and rolled away.

Gojo walked over to retrieve the ball. "Yeah, you'll definitely embarrass yourself if you play like that."

Ouch.

"Can you do anything besides brain surgery?" he probed further.

Ouch.

"You know that hurts," you said.

"It's all about posture and precision," he said, closing the distance between you two. He halted just before you. "May I?"

With a nod, you consented. He moved in closer, positioning himself directly behind you. His presence enveloping you in a comforting warmth. He smelled like sweat, but oddly, you found it rather attractive.

You could feel the light touch of his hands as they gently guided your shoulders, aligning your stance with the hoop. His closeness was suffocating, and you found yourself acutely aware of every movement he made.

"Bend your knees a bit more," he advised, his voice a soothing whisper near your ear. You could feel his breath, warm and steady, against the side of your neck, causing your heart to beat faster. His hands moved down to adjust your arms. His touch warm against your skin.

You tried to focus on his instructions. But the closeness of his body, the gentle pressure of his hands on your arms, made it damn hard to concentrate on anything other than him.

"Now, when you shoot, focus on a fluid motion," he added.

As you prepared to take the shot, Gojo's hands rested lightly on your hips, steadying you. You should have pushed them away. Touching you like that was far beyond appropriate. But you didn't. You wanted him to touch you even more in that moment.

With his guidance, you took the shot, and this time the ball sailed through the net with a satisfying thud.

"You see? You have it in you," Gojo said, leaning back slightly but still close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him.

You turned to face him, meeting his gaze. Your heart immediately dropped.

Even in the waning light you could see it clearly.

"Are you high?" you asked, a slight frown creasing your forehead.

For a moment, Gojo seemed taken aback by your question. He quickly masked his expression with a casual smile and stepped back, creating some distance between you. He began to dribble the basketball, his movements fluid and practiced, yet there was a hint of unease in his actions.

"It's nothing," he said, focusing intently on the ball rather than meeting your eyes. "Just a small injury during practice."

"And you decided to what? Throw in an opioid for that small injury?" you pressed.

He stopped dribbling and faced you, his expression becoming more serious. "No, of course not," he replied with a hint of defensiveness. "It's just a minor strain. I didn't take anything strong for it."

You couldn't believe what he just said. He—a surgeon—a doctor—out of all people.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, it's been a long day, and I might have pushed myself a bit too hard. But I'm fine, really."

You studied him closely. "You expect me to believe that?" you took another step closer. "What did you really take? Codeine? Morphine?"

A flicker of something undefinable passing through his eyes. "You're crossing a line," he replied, his tone firmer this time.

"Me? Crossing a line?" you countered. "Since the first day we met, you've been pushing boundaries, and now you say I'm the one overstepping?"

Gojo's expression hardened. "I appreciate your concern, but I assure you, I am perfectly fine." His words were steady, but the slight tightness in his jaw suggested otherwise.

You didn't buy anything he just said. The feeling that something was off clung to you, refusing to be dispelled. His usual clarity seemed clouded, his sharpness dulled. His eyes slightly red. His skin paler than usual. It was unsettling to see him like this.

After a brief pause, he picked up the basketball and held it loosely at his side. "I think we're done here," he said. "You should go home."

You watched him for a moment longer. But then you decided to turn and walk away, leaving him alone on the court. As you made your way, his words replayed over and over in your mind.

Was something wrong with him?

Should you be worried?

After all, you worked together. And also—naturally—you were worried about him, right? Like any student would be worried about his professor, right?

The evening air suddenly felt so cold.

─── ·✧· ───

The lab was quiet except for the occasional hum of machinery and the soft clinking of your tools as you worked. You were deep in concentration, analyzing data for the upcoming neuroprosthetics project, when the door opened with a soft click.

"Ah, there you are," Geto said as he stepped in. "I've been searching for you. We've finally got the green light for our surgery. Everything's lined up and ready to go."

You straightened up, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. "Really? That's great. When?"

Geto walked over to your workstation, a subtle smile on his face. "In two weeks. Are you excited?"

"More like nervous."

"Ah, that's natural. But don't worry, it will work. You've done an excellent job."

You felt a swell of pride at his words. "Thank you. I'm glad I could help."

Still, there was a question on the tip of your tongue, something you had been pondering since last week. Hesitantly, you opened your mouth, but then stopped. Words failed you.

"What is it?" Geto asked, knowing you too well.

"Is something wrong with Gojo?"

He leaned against the table and crossed his arms. His expression shifted slightly. "Don't worry about him. He's just stressed lately."

Somehow you didn't buy it.

"Even so, you shouldn't get that close to him."

"I'm not—" you wanted to interject, but he cut you off.

"I'm not blind," he said firmly. "You have a bright future in science. Don't risk it by getting too involved with him. Satoru is a brilliant surgeon, but his personal life is a mess."

What should that mean?

You looked away, unsure how to respond.

Geto then changed the subject. "By the way, I have some more news for you—good and bad. Which would you like to hear first?"

"The good news, of course," you replied.

"Here," Geto said, handing you a journal. As you took it, the bold lettering on the cover immediately caught your eye. It featured an article written by Gojo.

You opened the journal, your heart racing as you skimmed the pages to find the article. And there it was—a comprehensive meta-analysis that you, too, had worked on.

"No way," you murmured, your eyes scanning the text in disbelief.

Below the article was your name, listed alongside Gojo's, credited for your pivotal role in the data analysis and interpretation.

"He mentioned me."

Geto nodded, a hint of pride in his expression. "That's a pretty big deal."

You were momentarily speechless. Being credited alongside someone as renowned as Gojo was insane.

"Now for the not-so-good news," Geto began.

You looked up at him from the Journal, your eyes still sparkling.

"You failed your anatomy exam."

─── ·✧· ───

The sports festival was in full swing.

Cheers and laughter filled the university campus. The summer heat beat down relentlessly. You already felt a little nauseous that day, and the sun only made it worse. Yeah, you weren't really cut for the heat. At least the bleachers were partly shaded.

You sat quietly besides with Maki, Yuta, and Toge, watching various events unfold on the field. Despite the lively atmosphere, you couldn't bring yourself into the festive spirit. Your mind was elsewhere.

Maki nudged you gently. "Still thinking about the exam?"

You sighed. "Yeah, I have to pass the next one, or I'll have to do this year again."

Yuta leaned over. "You'll go it, I'm sure. Plus, you got mentioned in Dr. Gojo's paper—that's huge!"

"Huge," Toge said again to underline it even more.

You managed a small smile. "I hope you're right."

Maki patted your back. "Dr. Handsome will sure put in a good word for you."

You sighed again. "Not this topic again."

Suddenly, the announcer's voice boomed over the loudspeakers, announcing that the basketball match between students and professors will begin shortly.

Yuta turned to you and the others. "Looks like it's our turn. Let's start getting ready."

You nodded, through a wave of nausea washed over you. The heat of the sun was merciless, more intense than you'd expected, and it seemed to be draining your strength by the minute.

Maki stood up. "Alright, team, let's show them what we've got!"

Should you vomit now, or later—or both?

Having changed into your sports attire, you joined your teammates on the basketball court. You began to warm up your muscles, even though the heat made that almost unnecessary. You felt your face burn. Nausea churned in your stomach.

You paused, closing your eyes for a moment, hoping it would pass.

Then, the professors' team made their entrance onto the court. Among them were Geto and Gojo. They began dribbling and passing the ball between them, occasionally doing stretches that showcased their well-built bodies.

They looked confident.

You calculated the odds of how badly this match might go for your team.

Why did you even sign up for this?

Your gaze inadvertently met Gojo's across the court. For a fleeting second, your eyes locked, sending a wave of unease through you. You haven't spoken to him since. Quickly, you averted your gaze and focused back on your stretches.

As Gojo and another professor continued their warm-up, they passed the ball back and forth, aiming for the net. Then a shot from Gojo missed its mark, sending the ball rolling your way.

As if he ever missed a shot.

The ball stopped at your feet, and before you could react, Gojo was there, sprinting up to retrieve it. He halted right in front of you. "You don't look good," he said, his voice so low that only you could hear it.

"I'm fine," you said. "I think it's just the heat."

Gojo reached out, his hand cool against your forehead. "You're overheating."

You quickly pushed his hand aside. "You might want to keep a professional distance, don't you think?" The words came out sharper than intended.

Gojo frowned slightly. "You should sit this one out."

"I appreciate your concern, but I assure you, I am perfectly fine," you responded, mirroring his words back at him.

He took a step closer. "You're stupid, you know that?"

Before you could respond, Geto's voice called out from across the court. Gojo turned at the sound. "Coming!" He gave you a last look before quickly walking away. You watched them do a stupid boyish handshake as Gojo rejoined Geto.

At least he was not high today, you thought.

The crowd was already roaring with cheers and applause as both teams lined up. They all here to witness my downfall, you thought, struggling against the nausea that threatened your focus.

Right off the bat, Gojo weaved through your team's defense, fluid and precise. He flicked the ball to Geto, who faked left and then took a clear shot, scoring the first basket of the game. The crowd erupted.

Yuta sprinted down the court and dribbled past Gojo. He passed the ball to you, and you took your chance at a three-pointer. The ball arced beautifully, but it rimmed out at the last second.

At least you tried, right?

Not missing a beat, Toge snagged a pass from a professor and pivoted into a counterattack. He found Maki open. She didn't disappoint, scoring a layup to tie the game. Your team was holding up surprisingly well, mostly thanks to your friends' efforts.

Then, Geto feinted, passing to an open Gojo. With a swift move, Gojo scored another point, eliciting a fresh wave of cheers from the spectators. But Yuta was quick to follow, dribbling down the court. He passed to Maki, who nailed another crucial basket, closing the score gap.

In the final minutes, the game was deadlocked. Gojo had the ball, expertly evading your teammates defensive efforts. He made a break for the basket. Yuta, determined to block him, overreached and stumbled backwards, heading straight for you.

You barely had time to brace yourself.

The collision was inevitable.

Yuta crashed into you, and both of you went tumbling to the ground. The game halting abruptly to the sound of a sharp whistle.

"Are you okay?" Yuta blurted out.

Why was Yuta always running you over?

You rolled over to your side, feeling the heat of the ground beneath you. Everything spun, nausea swirling with pain. "I might need a minute," you managed to say, the world tilting around you.

Almost instantly, Gojo was there, kneeling beside you. "Don't move." He began to examine you for any immediate injuries, his hands tenderly scanning your exposed skin. "You feeling dizzy?"

Your response was a pained sound, a clear sign that you were far from okay. "You might have a concussion. We need to get you checked right away," Gojo said.

"I'm fine," you started to protest, but Gojo had already lifted you into his arms in one fluid motion. He held you close to him. Instinctively, you clung to his neck, feeling the pounding of his heart against your own. It made your stomach clench.

"I'm fine, really," you said again as he carried you off the court.

"Ah shut up, I know you're not." His eyes fixed on you, as if you were the only person who mattered at that moment. "You're really stressing me, you know that?"

─── ·✧· ───

The room felt so small.

His presence filled the whole space.

"There," Gojo said softly as he inserted the needle into your arm. "This should help with hydration and ease any nausea."

You watched as he secured the needle in place. He adjusted the flow of saline, his eyes meeting yours, a playful smile on his lips. "So much for not needing to handle a needle, huh?"

You rolled your eyes.

Then he cupped your chin and tilted your head back slightly. "Watch the light," he instructed, flicking a small penlight on and off before your eyes. His fingers warm against your skin. "Good," he said, his gaze lingering on yours for a moment longer than necessary.

"Maybe you should stick to brains, instead of sports," he added.

You smiled weakly. "I'll never touch a basketball again in my life, I guess."

His smile widened.

"Thank you," you said quietly.

"No need to," he replied. "Just do me a favor and stop making me worry about you all the time. It's draining."

Your stomach tightened. Gojo turned away and removed his gloves, tossing them into the trash. As the saline drip worked its magic, you began to feel better, the nausea and dizziness slowly receding.

"You mentioned me in your paper," you spoke up, breaking the silence.

Gojo turned to face you, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "I did."

"Why?"

"Why wouldn't I? You've done most of the analysis."

"You could have done it without me."

"I know, but I wanted you to be a part of it."

Knowing that the analysis of such an important issue would get a lot of recognition, he should have added.

"Why?" you asked again, already knowing the answer.

"Because I want to support you."

"But I'm just a student, and you're—" You trailed off, feeling a sudden tightness in your chest. His crystal blue eyes seem to pierce right through you.

"And I'm what?"

He stood up and closed the distance between you, his hands coming to rest on either side of you on the bed. The nearness of his body made your breathing hitch in your throat. The warmth of his presence enveloped you, the subtle scent of his cologne blending with the sterile air.

His face was so close, his lips almost grazing yours. Your heart raced, pounding so loudly in your chest you were sure he could hear it.

You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. "—my professor."

"Too bad, isn't it?" he whispered hoarsely, his voice a velvet caress that sent shivers down your spine.

Your mind raced with a thousand thoughts, a thousand reasons why this shouldn't happen, why you should push him away. But your body betrayed you, leaning into him, closing the distance, seeking the touch of his lips against yours.

"We shouldn't be doing this," you whispered.

"Tell me to stop, and I will."

Your core heated, turning molten. Your lips parted slightly, surrendering to the moment.

You could tell how much self-control it took for him to not kiss you. You could see it in the way his jaw was set, his brow subtly furrowed, his eyes glued to your lips. Yet, he waited for your consent.

His lips were a mere breath from yours—so cruelly close. Every fiber of your being yearned for him to close the gap, for him to lose against his self-control.

Suddenly you heard your name and a knock at the door.

The door swung open abruptly. Gojo flinched back, the spell between you broken. Regaining his composure, he stepped back, putting a professional distance between you two. You straightened quickly, trying to hide your flushed face.

You wished desperately that he'd kissed you.

Geto stood in the doorway, his eyes flickering between Gojo and you.

You could tell what he was thinking.

next chapter ->

author's note: thanks for reading and feel free to leave your thoughts !! if you want to be added to the taglist, pls comment on the series masterlist ♡

#gojo saturo #saturo gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x female reader #jjk x reader #alternative universe #professor satoru gojo

2K notes · View notes

lo1k-diamonds · 2 months 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.”

239 notes · View notes